INTRODUCTION
This is the first of four interrelated recollections by a man in the late summer of life, recalling the events of some unusual summers, and the members of the female persuasion who made them so unusual and worth remembering.
My Summer in Wonderland
By: Zylux
It was a summer vacation filled with adventure, discovery, and wonder. The time was the late 1950's. The place was a resort island in the Pacific Northwest accessible by car ferry. The island was large enough to sport a few small farms and a couple of tourist towns that had a look and charm right out of a storybook. Still there were enough somewhat wild areas in-between with forests, meadows, and crystal clear streams filled with fish and secret swimming holes. The coastline had a couple of small beaches but was mostly rocky coves and all were covered in driftwood. At low tide there were tidal pools and access to mini islands. In short, there was everything needed to satisfy the adventurous spirit of a young lad of eleven, except for one thing, no one my age to play with, at least where we were.
For the first two weeks this was more of a disappointment than a problem, as I wanted to spend time with my dad anyway. We were staying in a cabin in a small campground well outside of any town. Dad, Mom, and I used this cabin as a base to explore the island either by hiking or driving. We took a lot of great day trips, two of which really standout in my memory. One was a trip to a small beach where I was able to dig a hole in the sand next to a large driftwood log. I had leaned long pieces of driftwood against the log and over the hole creating a shelter. I fantasized being shipwrecked on an uninhabited island, a victim of a battle at sea between tall ships. A fantasy created with inspiration drawn from the pages of C.S. Forester's Horatio Hornblower series combined with Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe.
The other trip was up a stream that ran by the campground. We hiked at least a mile upstream to a sizable sandbar. Dad and I carried our fishing gear and other supplies; Mom brought a small stockpot and a cast iron fry pan. After setting things up for the preparation of dinner, Dad and I continued upstream with our fishing gear, while mom started digging in the sand. We hiked about a quarter mile and came to a small three-foot high waterfall. At the base of the falls was a large, deep, well-shaded pool, a perfect fishing hole. We found a ready supply of insects in the underbrush and leaf litter along the stream to use as bait. As soon as either of us found one, we would thread the hook through it and drop our line into the pool. The fish were eager to snap up our seemingly free offerings and we quickly caught enough pan size trout for dinner.
Gathering up our gear and the fish, we returned to the sandbar where we found Mom with a pile of freshwater clams. Dad made a fire pit, and then joined me in the search for wood for the fire. The Pacific Northwest is a wet environment and finding wood dry enough to burn took some doing. We eventually came across a somewhat sheltered, old rotting stump and were able to extract enough dry solid wood from the core of it to cook our dinner. We also gathered some damp wood to be dried by the fire for use after dinner. After Dad got the fire going, he and I turned our attentions to cleaning the fish, while Mom put the fry pan and the stockpot with some water from the stream on the fire. She put a layer of rocks in the bottom of the stock pot and then put the clams and some corn on the cob on top of the rocks to steam. The fish, with some butter, were added to the hot fry pan.
It didn't take long for everything to cook up and we were all serving ourselves from the pot and pan. The cool, crisp open air seemed to make everything taste so much better and we all made trips back to the pot and pan until there was nothing left. It was the best dinner ever. After we cleaned up, we sat around the fire taking in the natural beauty that surrounded us. Just before it got dark, we called it a day and hiked back to camp. I remember how much I wanted to do that again but with a friend along.
At the end of two weeks Dad had to return home and go back to work. Mom and I were to stay for most of the summer as our house was being remodeled and we really couldn't stay there during construction. So we rented a house on the very edge of the main town. Dad would join us on the weekends, which was a lot of fun. The rest of the week was the pits as there were only teenagers around and they didn't want to play with a kid.
One day feeling lonely, instead of going outside, I just sat by the front window looking out. There was nothing moving, all was still. Suddenly from behind the house across the road there appeared a boy about my size and age. He ran off towards a muddy ditch. I called out to Mom that I was going outside and ran for the door. I quickly scanned the road for any traffic and hurried across making a beeline for the ditch. The boy was occupied with throwing rocks into the mud, but turned when he heard me coming. I was in for a surprise.
"Hi, I'm Tom. I saw you from the house across the road and thought you might like to play."
"Yeah, I'd like that. My name is Sam."
"Sam? But, but wait a minute, you’re a girl!"
Horror of horrors, a gross, slimy, disgusting girl!
"It's short for Samantha, but what, you don't want to play with me because I'm a girl? That’s not very nice."
"I'm sorry. It's just that I've been hoping to find a boy my age to play with for the last three weeks."
"Hey, I can do anything you BOYS can do, and maybe even better. In fact, I'll show you that I can right now. I know a really neat secret place, follow me. Oh, and see if you can keep up!"
With that, Sam took off running along the ditch, dogging around bushes and rocks. I took up the challenge and ran off in pursuit, but it took all I had just to stay with her. We followed the ditch to where it joined a small creek that over countless years had cut deep into the earth. Sam more slid down the muddy bank rather than step down and was quickly at the bottom. I followed, gingerly making my way down the bank, coming to stand facing Sam. With a smug look on her face, she turned away and headed upstream, away from town.
We ran along the creek for about a quarter mile to a place where there were a few large rocks in the water. Sam didn't even slow down, she jumped from rock to rock with amazing agility and scampered up the opposite bank. I did my best to match her, but slipped on the last rock and slammed into the bank, getting covered in dirt and mud. Mom was not going to be happy. I managed to reach the top of the bank in time to see Sam running up a steep hill and disappear into the undergrowth. The brush was tall and thick and the trail was narrow and very twisted. I didn't see Sam until I almost ran into her at a wall of bushes and trees.
Sam just looked at me and smiled. Fortunately she didn't say anything, instead she suddenly dropped to the ground and started to crawl on all fours through a small hole in the brush. I was right behind her. After a short way the tunnel opened up enough that we could get up off our hands and knees but still had to bend over. This shortly ended at a clearing, and what a clearing it was. It was roughly circular, about a hundred and fifty feet in diameter, covered in long grass with several large boulders scattered about. The trees and bushes were so dense around the edge that there was no other way in or out. A genuine secret place. I couldn't believe Sam was sharing this special place with me; perhaps girls weren't so bad after all.
"How did you find this place? It's so hidden I can't imagine any one else knowing about it."
"I just happened to be following a rabbit a couple of weeks ago. He disappeared into that hole we crawled through, it looked big enough for me to follow him, so I did."
"A rabbit? It wasn't white by any chance was it?"
"No, why would you think it was white?"
"Oh, nothing, I was just thinking of a movie my Mom took me to see"
We played for a couple of hours climbing and jumping off the rocks, running around the clearing engaged in typical kid games. Soon I began to think of Mom calling me in for lunch.
"Sam, it must be getting close to lunch, we had better head back before our mothers start looking for us."
"Not yet, I've got one last thing to show you, come on."
Sam took off running, scampered up a large rock, and leaped across to a much larger and taller rock. She jumped straight up, grabbed an overhanging tree branch and pulled herself up. I followed suit, although with a little more caution. We climbed as high up as the limbs would support our weight. From our vantage point we could just look out over the treetops and see our houses and part of the town beyond. Way off in the distance we could make out the shoreline of that part of the island. It was one of the most magical moments I had ever experienced; one of several Sam would introduce me to. We briefly enjoyed the view before climbing back down and heading back for home. On the way, I invited Sam to join me for lunch, she quickly said yes. Of course she had to stop off at home and tell her mom where she would be. That gave me some time to run home and get cleaned up. I burst into the house filled with an enthusiasm I couldn't explain.
"Mom, Mom, where are you?"
"In the kitchen dear. Good Lord, just look at you! What am I going to do with you? Oh well, you had better march yourself up stairs and change those filthy clothes and take a bath while you're at it."
"No time for a bath, I asked my friend over for lunch. I'll just run up and change. She'll be here any minute."
"SHE?!"
I changed clothes as fast as I could and ran back down the stairs. Sam was in the living room with my mother who turned and looked at me in surprise. Me, befriending a girl? I have a feeling that she didn't know whether to hug me in joy, or take me to the nearest doctor. The three of us had lunch in the kitchen. Mother seemed to like Sam, but I suspect she was disappointed that Sam was so much of a tomboy. She probably figured it was a start anyway. After lunch, Sam and I went to her house and met her mom, then back outside to continue our explorations of the countryside.
From that point on, Sam and I were inseparable. We played together every day, except on the weekends, as Sam and her mom had to spend most of the weekend off the island. We became fast friends and it wasn't long before I began to think of Sam more as a girl than a tomboy. Of course, at the time, I didn't know why I had those thoughts, I just did. These thoughts were at their strongest when we visited the secret clearing, especially when Sam crawled into the entrance tunnel. Images from the animated movie Mom had taken me to see kept filling my mind, until one day they got the better of me. Before I could stop myself I blurted out something that would end up having a profound effect on my life.
"Sam, I've been wondering, ummm, how come you never wear a dress? I mean, you being a girl and all."
"A DRESS?! Why would I want to wear a dress? I can't play as hard in a dress as in pants."
"Sure you can, I see girls playing outside all the time, and they're running, climbing, and sitting on the ground."
At the time, I had been thinking of the girl in that animated movie, who was pretty, bright, proper, and could go anywhere and do anything without getting so much as a spot of dirt on herself or her clothing. She was the perfect girl and I thought all girls should be like her. Sam had a different opinion.
"But do you see them sitting in the dirt, or running through the mud? Are they splashing in a stream or climbing up the bank? Are they sitting in a tree? No, because girls are supposed to be prim and proper and do girl things, like tea parties and play silly girl games. Also, they're expected to stay clean. Boys get to play in the mud, splash through streams, run into the bushes, and climb trees. Boys can get as dirty as they want, AND have fun doing it! They don't even get into trouble. Their parents just see it as part of being a boy. It's not fair; boys have it so much better than girls."
"Well, maybe girls don't get to do everything that boys get to do, but I'm sure they can do most things, and still have as much fun as boys. Besides they get to dress up and get to look really nice."
"Sooooo, you think it's so great to wear a dress, think you can do anything and go anywhere. You should wear one and then we'll see just how great you think it is."
"ME?! I can't do that, I'm a boy, and boys don't wear dresses, girls do. You’re a girl, why don't you wear one and show me how awful it is."
"No way, I hate dresses, besides, the only way you're going to find out what it's like, is try it for yourself. Come on, I DARE you to do it."
"How can I? I can't just ask my mom if I can wear a dress."
"I can ask my mom if you and me can eat lunch in the forest and sneak one out in the picnic bag."
"What, wear it outdoors? Someone might see me."
"Of course outdoors, what have we been talking about? Besides, no one is going to see you. We've been playing out here for a couple of weeks and haven't seen anyone yet."
"Well, I don't know, what if…"
"No more excuses, or are you chicken. I DOUBLE dare you to do it."
"All right, I'll do it, but you can't tell anyone, ever, okay?"
"Agreed, we'll do it tomorrow."
As I recall, I didn't sleep very well that night. There was an overwhelming since of excitement that couldn't be explained, countered by a healthy dose of trepidation that could. The fateful morning arrived with the rising sun and the promise of a bright, warm day. I had chores to do but once those were done I was free to go out and play. Sam was waiting for me beside her house with a well-stuffed picnic bag.
"There you are. I was beginning to think you had backed out."
"I just had some chores to do first. So, you've got everything?"
"Yep, everything. Let's go."
We headed off toward the creek. Upon reaching the creek, we quickly descended down the bank to the creek bed. I followed Sam as she headed downstream for about a hundred yards, and then started back up the bank. She paused just before the top, stuck her head up over the edge and looked around.
"OK, the coast is clear, let's go."
Sam made for an old shed that was out of sight of any nearby housing. She spread apart a couple of loose end boards and motioned me inside. Once I was inside she passed the picnic bag in to me, and then she entered and put the boards back in place. The interior of the shed was barely lit by a pair of very dirty windows flanking a door centered on the front wall, but it was enough that I was able to look around.
"Wow, there's some neat stuff in here, but it doesn't look like anyone has been in here in years."
"Yep, it's the perfect place for you to change, so, take your clothes off."
Now there's a phrase that would take on a whole different meaning in several years. Sam rummaged around in the bottom of the bag and pulled out a bundle of red and white checked cloth. She took hold of it in each hand and let the bundle fall open revealing a girl's dress, a little nicer than a typical dress of the time. It had a full skirt with some stiffness to give it a bit of a flared look. The sleeves were white, short, and puffed with white lace trim. The collar was of stiff white cloth with white lace trim. The front had a white bib like panel outlined in wide white lace that went from the neck almost to the waist. At the waist, on each side, was an attached strip of red cloth that hung down loose. Closure was by buttons up the back. My first thoughts were not of how Sam would look wearing it, although I would have liked to have seen Sam wear it, but what it was going to be like for me to wear it. It was a feeling, a curiosity, which I never came to fully understand.
I unfastened my pants and pull each pant leg off over my shoes and put them on top of the picnic bag. I then pulled my shirt off over my head and dropped it on my pants. I started to pull off my undershirt but Sam stopped me. Instead she told me to put my arms out in front of me. I complied. She took the dress by the hem in back and slipped it onto my arms, working the sleeves on over my hands. She ordered me to raise my arms up over my head. I willingly complied. Sam pulled the dress down on to me and fussed a little with the skirt. I looked down to watch what she was doing, and was greeted by a sea of red and white checked cloth that just hid my shoes. I wondered what it would look like if I had a petticoat on as well. It was magical. Sam ordered me to turn around. I quickly complied. She adjusted the dress on my shoulders and buttoned it up. She tied the strips of red cloth into a bow behind my waist and fussed with its shape.
"That should do it. Now turn around and let's see how you look. Hey, you look kinda cute, and you seem to be enjoying it."
"What?! NO! You take that back, I'm only doing this only because you dared me to!"
"Shhhhh, not so loud, someone might hear and come looking. I don't think you'll like that. We better go."
Sam stuffed my shirt and pants into the picnic bag and moved to the end wall. She pushed the end boards apart, stuck her head out and looked around. The coast was clear. She stepped out and held the boards apart for me. I tossed the picnic bag out and prepared to step out. That was the big moment; could I leave the safety of the shed and step out into the open wearing a dress? What if someone should see me? The thought that someone might have heard us and was coming to investigate was the push I had needed and stepped out. Sam put the boards back in place, picked up the bag and headed for the creek. I was close behind trying to use bushes and trees as cover. At the creek Sam stopped and turned to face me.
"Remember one thing; if the dress gets dirty or damaged, YOU are the one who will have to explain to my mom how it happened."
And with that warning, she slid down the bank to the water's edge and headed up stream. I had to follow her from the top of the bank until I came to a rock outcropping that could be used like a stairway down to where Sam was. Even then, I had to be careful not to slip and fall onto the bank or worse yet, the mud at the bottom. As we worked our way up stream, Sam would have to periodically stop and let me catch-up to her. The thought of standing in front of Sam's mom holding (or worse, wearing) Sam's dirty dress had a profound effect on just how aggressively I followed her. I was not having fun.
We eventually came to the spot with the large rocks in the stream. Sam, as usual, turned and crossed the creek by jumping from rock to rock without breaking stride. I had to step from rock to rock, pausing at each rock to press the skirt down so I could see my feet before making the next move. As I crossed, a breeze came down the creek bed, lifting the skirt a bit. It felt so cool on my upper legs. I can still remember the wonderful sensation of trying to hold the skirt down against the air trying to push it up. Of course that created another problem; I couldn't see the next rock and had to stand in place waiting for the breeze to die down before proceeding. Sam was sitting on top of the bank looking down at me, and having a giggle at my expense. I managed to safely cross the creek, although it seemingly took forever.
The next obstacle was the bank, and I quickly decided that it would be best scaled on hands and feet, kicking footholds as I climbed. As I neared the top, Sam extended her hand down to me and helped me up. As I gained the top of the bank, she let go of me, turned away and went off running and weaving her way through the bushes. I had to follow at a slower pace, taking care that the dress didn't catch and tear on the dense undergrowth.
Since entering the clearing would require me to get down on my hands and knees I had to stop and think about how to proceed. Back then hemlines were well below the knee, making crawling on one's hands and knees in dirt not as simple as that little blond girl in that animated movie made it seem. It took awhile but I managed to enter the clearing without damage, at least none that couldn't be brushed off. No snags or tears anyway.
"Well there you are, still think a girl wearing a dress can do anything a boy wearing pants can do?"
"Sure, after all, here I am and still clean. So what if it took me longer than you."
"Ahhhhh, but did you enjoy it?"
"No, but then, I was trying to keep up with you. Now, if you were also wearing a dress, then we would have been moving at the same pace and I wouldn't have been so worried about getting dirty. I might even have enjoyed it."
"Fair enough. Let's see just what else you can and can't do."
We played as we usually did, except I took things easier and shied away from taking risks. Still, I did have fun, and wearing a dress wasn't so bad. There were moments when I actually liked it. Like when the skirt would rise up with the breeze, or after jumping off a rock. I really liked it when we sat down to lunch and I had to spread the skirt out around me so it wouldn't get pinned underneath me and possibly get stained by the grass. It was a mesmerizing effect as it seemed to be floating around me, being puffed up a bit by the grass, grass that was trying to right itself after having been bent over and trampled down by all our play. I had always been curious about girls sitting on the floor at a party laughing with each other with their fancy dresses and petticoats spread out around them. I was sort of experiencing that, and liking it. I didn't know why at the time (and still don't totally today), I just did. It was yet another magical moment.
We continued to play after lunch until it was almost time for us to head for home. That's when Sam suddenly scampered up the rocks and leaped up into the lookout tree. I followed, but stopped on top of the large rock under the tree branch.
"What's the matter, can't you make it?"
"You know I can't climb up there without damaging this dress. That was a mean thing to do."
"I just wanted you to realize that there are some really neat things that girls have to miss out on that boys don't."
"Yeah, well, there are some pretty neat things boys have to miss out on too."
"Like what?"
"Things."
"So tell me about them."
"No way, you'll just have to wear a dress and find out for yourself."
"Nice try, but you can forget that."
"What's the matter, chicken?"
"Oh no, I'm not going to fall for that. It's going to take more than that to get me into a dress. Now, as for you, I think you can change clothes now and then join me up here. I'll come down and help you."
Once back on the ground, Sam untied and unbuttoned the dress, then helped me pull it off. I retrieved my clothes from the picnic bag and put them on as Sam bundled up the dress and stuffed it back into the bag. We then headed up into the lookout tree. We quietly sat there taking in the view of the landscape. Sam was the first to break the silence.
"You handled yourself really well; I think you'd make a convincing girl."
"What, NO! I'm a boy and boys don't look like girls."
"When you first saw me you thought I was a boy."
"From a distance, yeah, but closer up I could see by your hair that you were a girl."
"So, if a boy had a girl's haircut, he'd look like a girl?"
"No, don't forget about the face, boys and girls just don't look the same."
"I think they do, at our age anyway, besides, you have a very soft face. I'll bet that with a girl's haircut you would be mistaken for a girl."
"No way. I can never look like a girl."
"Are you so sure that you're willing to bet on it?"
"What kind of a bet?"
"If I'm right you have to spend most of a day as a girl."
"And if you're wrong, what are you willing to do?"
"Well, since you'd like to see me wear a dress, and even though I hate dresses, I'll wear one for a day."
"That's not much of a bet. I have much more to lose than you."
"Okay, what if you get to decide which dress I will wear for the day, AND which one I'll wear for the following day, AND the day after that. Have we got a bet?"
"Three days to one, all right, you've got a bet, except how can we do it?"
"Easy, next week my mom starts working all day in town. She's going to ask your mom if she can watch me while she's away. We will spend the day together playing alone at my house. We'll just call your mom to let her know what we're doing from time to time, well, not quite everything we're doing."
"OK, but I have short hair, and girls have much longer hair, how are you going to change that?"
"Just leave that to me."
We climbed down from the tree and made our way home. The rest of the week went as usual. We didn't talk about the bet, but it was clear that neither of us forgot about it. As the week progressed, I became excited one moment and scared the next. It became increasingly difficult to keep my emotions under control.
Monday morning arrived bright and warm, but with no change to my state of mind. Part of me wanted to get over to Sam's as fast as possible, the rest of me wanted to find an excuse to stay home all day. I got up out of bed, got dressed and headed downstairs. I ate breakfast and in spite of the struggle within me, managed to walk over to Sam's house. Sam's mom greeted me at the door.
"Good morning Tom, Samantha is in her room upstairs putting on her costume. You can wait for her in the front room upstairs. Oh, and will you do me a little favor?"
"Sure Mrs. H_____, what is it?"
"I'd like Samantha to be more like a girl, so can you say some nice things to her about how she looks?"
"I'll do my best."
"Thank you dear, you two have fun and I'll see you both this evening."
Sam's mom headed out the door to her car and I headed up the stairs. It was a long and lonely climb. My heart was beating fast and hard. I was scared but a powerful curiosity was in control. I just had to find out; could I really look like a girl? At the top of the stairs I turned and walked to the front room. Sam was there. She was dressed the same as any other day and was just sitting in front of the window watching her mom drive off. I was puzzled but didn't have time to figure it out. Sam suddenly jumped up, and rushed toward me. She grabbed me by the wrist as she headed out of the room, dragging me along with her.
"She's gone, come on; we've got work to do."
"OK, but what's the rush?"
"I've waited days for this and I don't want to wait another minute!"
We entered Sam's bedroom, upon which she let go of my wrist and moved to the far side of her bed. On the bed was a large flat box that Sam began caressing with her hands. She looked up at me and grinned like the Cheshire cat in that animated movie.
"What are you waiting for? Take your clothes off!"
I stripped to my shorts and socks.
"Those too, everything!"
"I'm not going to wear girl's underpants, I'll just wear mine."
"Nothing doing. The bet was you were going to spend most of the day as a girl and that means wearing what girl's wear."
"That was only if I look like a girl, and I don't."
"Not yet, but you will. All you need is in this box."
"I'll be the judge of that, open it up and let's see."
"Not yet, first you have to get your underwear on."
Sam pulled open a drawer of her dresser and pulled out a pair of underpants and a full slip. These she tossed to the side of the bed I was on. After some protesting, I sat down on the floor beside the bed, out of Sam's view and slid off my socks and then my shorts. I reached up and took the underpants from the bed and pulled them on. They didn't feel much different from my shorts, just thinner and didn't seem to cover as much. I reached up once again and retrieved the slip. I put it on just like I'd put on an undershirt, a very long undershirt. It was smooth and felt very cool against my skin, something I had not expected. I couldn't help running my hands up and down it as I got up off the floor.
Sam was busy too. She had removed the box lid, turned it vertical, and tucked it onto the long side of the box, hiding its contents from me. She pulled out a full petticoat and came toward me holding it by the waist and giving it a shake. It made a rustling sound that, well, I'd now call seductive, for something in me wanted to experience wearing it. Sam held it open and down low. I stepped into it without hesitation. She pulled it up my legs and let go of the waist. It had an elastic waistband and snapped itself in place. There was some weight to it and it felt strange hanging from my waist. I ran my hands over it, pushing, pulling, and moving it around taking in all the new sensations it had to offer. But the best was yet to come.
Looking up, I found Sam holding a full skirt blue dress with short puffed sleeves by the hem. I knew the routine. I raised my arms up in front of me and she slipped the dress on to my arms, working the sleeves over my hands and up my arms. I raised my arms over my head and she pulled the dress down into place. After turning around, she pulled the zipper up the back, securing me in. It was a little tight but it fit pretty well. Once again my hands started to play, only this time with the skirt. I was so absorbed with the skirt that I didn't notice Sam slipping an apron over my head. She moved behind me and tied the apron behind my waist in a big bow. She fussed with the bow then fussed with the petticoat, skirt, and apron until she was satisfied with the look.
Sam told me to sit on the corner of the bed while she disappeared toward her closet. I ran my hands down the back of the skirt as I sat, mimicking what I had seen girls do. She returned with a pair of shiny black shoes that buckled on the side with a strap, and a pair of knee length white stockings. She rolled up one of the stockings, bent down and slipped it onto my foot and unrolled it up my leg. She did the same with the other one. The shoes were next, and then it was back to the box.
Sam returned and stood before me holding a long blond wig. The bottom dropped out of my stomach. With that wig I knew that I was in serious danger of losing the bet. Sam knew it too and was sporting a devilish grin that went from ear to ear. She slowly moved the wig behind me, as if to tease me, and pulled it onto my head, making adjustments until she was happy with the fit. She took a hairbrush from her nearby dressing table and went to work smoothing out the wig. A thin black ribbon materialized from her pocket. She slipped it between the back of my neck and the wig, and then brought the ends up behind my ears, tying them in a bow on top of my head.
Sam took me by the hands and pulled me to my feet. With her left arm bent across her abdomen, she rested the elbow of her right arm in her left hand, bent her fingers under her chin and gave me a good looking over. She motioned with her head toward a standing full-length mirror just beyond her dressing table. I was scared stiff but my old nemesis, curiosity, got the better of me and I moved to the mirror. In front of me stood a girl in a very pretty blue dress with a white apron. But not just any girl, it was the most perfect girl ever, right out of the movie. It was Alice, and I had just stepped into Wonderland. I was so absorbed with the image in front of me that I didn't notice Sam had come up behind me and was about to whisper into my ear.
"I win."
"This can't be. It's not possible. That can't be me, that’s a, aaa."
"A girl?"
I was spellbound, staring at the mirror in disbelief. I reached up and touched my face and the girl in front of me did the same. I made a quick turn to the side and the girl did likewise, the action of her skirt mimicking mine. She did everything I did, when I did. There was just no denying it, Sam was right, I could look like a girl. I DID look like a girl. Did she know this would be the result before making the bet? Is that why she put up three times what I had to put up?
"How did you manage to get all this, the costume, the wig, and in so little time?"
"It was easy. The local school loans out costumes in hopes of stirring up interest in kids to be in school plays. My mom has been trying all year to get me to take part, and thinks if she could get me interested in being in a play that I might like to dress up and do it more often. All I had to do was give in and choose a costume. The Alice in Wonderland costume came with a wig and that made it perfect for our bet."
"So you knew you could win even before you made the bet."
"Yeah."
"That's not fair; I shouldn't have to pay up."
"Hey, a bet's a bet; of course you have to pay up. So, let's play."
From the bottom of the box, Sam retrieved a script for Alice in Wonderland. I was of course Alice, and Sam was everyone else. We acted out scenes from the play the rest of the morning. I quickly came to enjoy the experience, immersing myself in every new sensation, and took many an opportunity to check my self in the mirror. I was having the time of my life.
Just before noon the phone rang and Sam answered it. It was my mom asking how we were doing and if we were ready for lunch. Sam replied that her mom had left us a lunch and she was heating it up. Perfect, that meant I didn't have to change back to a boy, a thought that caused me to pause. I was enjoying being a girl, but why? It was yet another question to be partially answered latter in life.
It was decided we should have a tea party with lunch, a mad tea party of course. We had a ball and lunch got stretched out well over an hour. As we cleaned up a rather large mess, I reflected on the morning's activities, Sam was wrong about one thing; girls could have just as much fun as boys could, just in a different way.
After lunch Sam taught me how to act, play, and talk in the manner of a girl. I got pretty good at it, so good that we started to speculate on whom I could fool into thinking I was a girl and who I couldn't. Our debate quickly turned into a conundrum that we couldn't really solve short of actually going out in public, not something I wanted to do. In the end, we decided that our parents would most likely be able to tell, also not something that I actually wanted to find out. We then turned our attentions back to playing.
All too soon, the day came to an end, and I had to step back through the looking glass before Sam's mom returned home. I really didn't want to, but knew I had to. We retreated back to Sam's room where she helped me strip to the panties, and then left me to put my clothes on by myself. I finished up and joined Sam in the upstairs front room just as her mom's car came into view. We watched in silence as her mom pulled into the driveway, bringing the day to an end. It had been both an eventful and confusing day, and tomorrow would be back to normal.
The next day started out the same as the previous. I met Sam's mom as she was headed out the door. After we exchanged greetings, I went into the house and up the stairs to find Sam in the front room. That's when the day took a left turn. She was standing, with a slouch, next to the front window, half facing the window and half facing me. She had both hands on her hips and a sour, angry look on her face. Sam was wearing a dress. It was a blue denim jumper over a white, ¾ sleeve blouse. I told her that she looked really nice, but she ignored me, and just watched her mom drive off and disappear. Suddenly, Sam rushed toward me, and grabbed me by the wrist as she had before. She dragged me to her room.
"Take your clothes off."
"Why? The bets over."
"So, I don’t want to wear a dress and you do!"
"What do ya mean I do? I only did it because of the bet."
"You enjoyed it! Admit it, you liked it!"
"Okay, I had some fun but that doesn't mean I want to do it from now on."
"I saw you yesterday, you were at the mirror every chance you could get, and I know you didn't want to stop at the end of the day either. I could see it in your face. So stop with the protest and get your clothes off."
"How come you're wearing a dress anyway?"
"Because my mom wants me too, and she says that if I wear one long enough I'll get used to it."
"Why don't you just put on some pants? I won't tell your mom."
"Because my mom took away my pants, so I'm going to wear yours."
I started to feel that Sam's predicament was all my fault. If I hadn't spoke without thinking, if I hadn't taken the dare or agreed to the bet, then this would not have happened. On the other hand I wouldn't have had the adventure of my life either, so I guessed I owed her one. I took off my pants and shirt, tossing them onto the bed. Sam had already taken off her dress and blouse and quickly snatched up my clothes and put them on. She was finally starting to smile. I put on her clothes and turned around so she could zip me up. Turning back around, I found Sam looking me over with a Cheshire cat grin.
"You're right, that does look nice, on you anyway. There's one last thing to do and then we can go play."
Sam picked up her hairbrush and restyled her hair to look more like mine, and then she came at me.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?"
"I'm just going to make your hair look more like mine did. That way if someone sees us when we're outside playing, they will just think that I'm you and you're me."
"OUTSIDE!? I can't go outside like this."
"Why not? You did the first time. I'm not about to stay in this house all day, there's too much to see and do outside, so let's go out and have some fun. Oh, and this time you won't have to worry about getting dirty."
I was scared but the idea of being outside looking like a girl seemed thrilling and it wasn't long before Sam and I burst out the back door into the open air. We spent most of the day visiting our favorite spots, staying away from any populated places. Still we did come across a couple walking in a meadow, but they were a little too far away to tell who we were, or better still, what we weren't. And I did have a lot more fun then the first time, not having to worry about getting dirty made a big difference, and I did get a little dirty. Still, there were a couple of things Sam could do that I couldn't, but it was okay, as there were things I could experience that Sam couldn't, at least not when wearing pants. Things just seem to have a way of balancing out.
Before Sam's mom returned home, we retreated to Sam's room to exchanged clothes and combed our hair. As we waited in the upstairs front room I kept thinking how nice and how pretty Samantha could be if she wanted to. That ended when her mom arrived, signaling that it was time for me to head for home.
The rest of the week went pretty much the same. I ended up wearing almost every dress she had, and with each time it became easier to do. And as the week progressed, the dresses became less practical and more girlish. Each one triggered its own special reaction in me, but it was the one on Friday that caused a reaction in me that I did not see coming. On that day, I had found Sam in the upstairs front room, standing next to the front window as usual. She was wearing the very same red and white checked dress that I had first worn. At first, I thrilled at finally getting to see her in it. She looked really cute, even with her usual sour face. Then, for reasons I couldn't explain, I became jealous and couldn't wait for Sam to take it off so I could put it on. It was a feeling that would pay me a visit again and again latter in life. It was an interesting way to wrap up a successful week of helping Sam avoid wear a dress. But then there was the weekend, how to help Sam then.
Dad was coming up to take mom and me back home. It looked like Sam would have to wear a dress after all. Dad arrived Friday night and announced that the house wasn't ready. There had been a delay caused by an unforeseen problem and we would have to stay a couple of extra days. Dad was going to stay with us until the house was ready. Perfect, I quickly formed a plan.
"Dad, you remember that beach with all the driftwood? Can we go there Saturday, and on Sunday can we hike up the stream where we had dinner on the sand bar?"
"Sure, we can go there again if you want."
"And can Sam and her mom come with us?"
"We'll ask and see if they can join us. You seem quite taken with Samantha, are you starting to take an interest in girls?"
"Yeah, sorta. Thanks Dad."
Saturday morning came filled with promise of a perfect day. Sam and her mom were delighted to join us; what ever they usually did on the weekend, could wait. Everyone packed for lunch and a day at the beach. Sam was very happy as the beach meant a bathing suit, not a dress. We all piled into our car and got underway.
We arrived at the beach after a pleasant drive across the island. As soon as everything was unpacked and mostly setup, Sam and I took off to explore. We did everything I had done on my first visit only this time it was far more fun with Sam joining in. Our parents had a hard time getting us to stop playing long enough to eat lunch. We rushed through lunch and went back to playing until the sun went down. Sam and I dragged ourselves off the beach and wearily climbed into the car. Both of us fell asleep on the way home.
Sunday started off foggy. The fog lifted by noon but only to reveal an overcast sky. Sam and her mom joined us after lunch. Sam was wearing pants; her mom thought it best after seeing how hard we played the day before. Part one of my plan had worked, now for part two.
We had packed and got underway about an hour later. I was so excited that it seemed to take forever to get to the campground. Dad drove past the campground to a dirt road heading in the direction of the stream. It was still overcast when we arrived at the stream and it didn't look like it was going to clear. It didn't matter; Sam and I were going to have fun any way.
The car was unpacked and everyone picked up a share of all we had brought. After making sure nothing had been left behind, we started hiking upstream. Sam and I were so excited that we kept running ahead and had to be called back by our parents. We got to the sandbar in due time and started to set everything up. Dad noticed how eager Sam and I were to go explore and gave in.
"I think we can set up the rest of this, so if you and Samantha would like to catch some fish for dinner, you can go ahead, just be back by 5:00."
"WOW! Thanks Dad. Come on Sam, grab a pole and let's go."
"Can I Mom?"
"Oh, all right Samantha, just try not to get dirty."
"Thanks Mom, I'll try, I promise."
And with that, we were off. It took us a lot longer to get to the fishing hole then when I went with my dad. Anything along the way that looked the least bit interesting merited an immediate detour. At the falls, we left our fishing gear and continued up stream, just to see what was there. We found a lot of neat things as we worked our way upstream. Eventually the forest gave way to a waterlogged meadow, forcing us to turn around and work our way back to the fishing hole.
At the top of the falls, we waded out into the water and turned over the rocks looking for insects and larvae for bait. It didn't take long to find all we needed. The fish didn't waste any time either; it seemed like they took our baited hooks as soon as they hit the water. All too soon it was time to head back, but first I had to put part two of my plan in motion.
"Sam, I think I have an idea as to how to get your mom to stop trying to make you wear a dress. First we need to roll in the dirt a little, but not too much, we don't want to make your mom cry."
"Right, I did promise to try to stay clean. How's this?"
"That should do it. Now mess up your hair a little and I'll stick this leaf and a twig in it. And lastly, some mud on the arms, hands, shoes, and a couple drops on the face."
"Mom is not going to like this, we've gone too far."
"No no, it's perfect. When we get back we'll run in and with as much excitement as we can produce we'll tell of our adventures. After they calm us down you will say to your mom, 'I want to be a nature scientist when I grow up'."
"I get it. She'll think that from now on I'll be spending most of my time climbing and crawling over everything, and a dress won't be practical. It's brilliant, I could kiss you."
And she did. We gathered up the fishing gear and the fish and head back to put my plan in motion. We burst into camp chattering a mile a minute. Sam's Mom was disappointed at the sight of Sam, but not upset. She seemed to warm up to Sam's announcement, perhaps she thought a scientist in the family would be a good thing. Of course we did pay a price for our makeup job as our moms dragged us to the stream and gave us a good scrubbing with a wash cloth (more than we really needed), along with a scolding. It was worth it.
Dinner was soon ready, and it was even better this time. There was a lot to eat which was a good thing as Sam and I had worked up quite an appetite. After dinner and a quick cleanup, we all sat around the fire and talked until just before it started to get dark. We packed up and hiked back to the car, arriving just as the sun began to set. We couldn't have been on the road five minutes before Sam and I were asleep.
Monday morning didn't get off to a good start. It was still overcast and there was a feeling that something was amiss. I ate breakfast and went over to Sam's house, meeting her mom just as she was leaving. We talked a little about the weekend and then she was off to town. As usual I went up stairs to the front room. I found Sam sitting by the window, dejected, and staring out the window. She was wearing a dress, a plaid jumper over a white blouse with short puffed sleeves. My plan had failed.
I felt terrible for Sam; I didn't know what to say. Suddenly she jumped up and grabbed me by the wrist. I knew the routine. Oh well, if I could help her fend off the inevitable for one more day, then I should be happy to do it. Besides I didn't know then if I would ever have an opportunity to dress again.
In Sam's room I quickly stripped to my shorts and tossed my shirt and pants to her side of the bed. She tossed back a full slip and a petticoat. That caught me by surprise as I had thought it was going to be the same as the previous week. No argument came from me, as I thrilled at the chance to wear them again after my first experience a week before. After slipping the undergarments on, I started to play with them when it suddenly hit me; the jumper Sam was wearing had a straight skirt not a full, and wouldn't fit over a petticoat. Something wasn't right. I looked up and found her wearing her jumper and a Cheshire cat's grin. She was holding the red and white check dress by the hem, waiting.
"Sam, you hate to wear a dress, how come you aren’t changing into my pants?"
"Because, I have my own."
"Isn't your mom making you wear that?"
"No, I put it on as she was leaving."
"You mean the plan worked? Then why am I wearing this, and you that?"
"Because I think you want to, and I have a surprise for you. Since you were so sweet to let me wear your pants last week, and helped me out with my mom, I thought I would give you a chance to experience a real girl's day."
And so we did. After she helped me put on the dress along with a pair of white stockings and shoes, we started to play games that girls played, engaged in girl type conversations, had a tea party (formal, not mad), and so on and so on. I really liked it all, especially the part when I sat on the floor and spread my skirt and petticoat out as far as they would go. It was wondrous, as was the day. But as before, it came to an end all too soon. I reluctantly changed clothes and went back to our temporary home for dinner as Sam's mom returned.
Tuesday arrived with the sun deciding to put in an appearance. But even a sunny day wouldn't help matters; it was still going to be a sad day. It would be Sam's and my last day together. We had decided to spend the morning revisiting all our favorite places with lunch in our secret clearing. We ran around everywhere and tried to have fun, but our hearts just weren't in it. Not even the charm of our secret clearing could cheer us up and we ate our lunch mostly in silence. We spent the rest of our day in town with my mom and dad, exploring all the little shops and the dock area one last time. Tomorrow, I would head for home.
Wednesday morning began with a light fog creeping across the landscape. Dad had wanted to get an early start for home so we had done most of the packing and house cleaning the night before. We finished loading the car and were about to get in, when Sam and her mom came and exchanged good-byes before they headed for town. We climbed in the car and with tears in my eyes, headed for home.
It was a few years before we visited the island again. We rented a house in the same town we had before, only this time it was on the other side and down on the coast. I had little hope of finding Sam still living on the island as my parents had said something about them possibly having to move to the mainland. Still I tried. I walked around as much of the town as I could in the morning and evening, hoping to see Mrs. H_____'s car as she went to and came from work, but with no luck. I posted a note on the community bulletin board in the town square, but it went unanswered. In desperation, I rented a bicycle and road out to the house Sam had lived in, but as I approached it, I saw a woman sitting on the porch steps watching her two young children play. Without stopping, I continued on to the ditch where I first met Sam.
Walking along the ditch with the bike, I made my way to the stream and then to the rock crossing. There, I left the bike, crossed the stream, and made for our secret clearing. The path seemed narrower and not as well defined as I had remembered it. The entrance seemed smaller and I had to somewhat force my way in. The grass in the clearing was tall and thick, clearly no one had visited in a long time.
The clearing seemed to welcome me, inviting me to explore all it had to offer once again. As I walked around, each rock and patch of grass brought to mind a memory of a more magical time. I climbed up on a large rock that offered a view of most of the clearing and reflected on just what Sam had meant to me. It was through her that I got to experience a world that was reserved just for girls, and I had enjoyed it. I had wanted more, but it would be a long time before I could once again enter that world.
The more I thought about Sam the more I missed her, and sadness started to take hold of me. The clearing had lost its magic. It wasn't the same without Sam. I slid down off the rock and made for the exit. Before leaving I turned and said goodbye out loud, I don't know why, I just did. Perhaps it was because at the time I didn't think I would ever return or would want to without Sam.
I worked my way back to where I had left the bike and walked it back to the main road. At the road, I paused for a moment, looking at the house we had stayed at on my first visit. It didn't seem to be occupied, but appeared to be well maintained. Of course, memories of my stay there came flooding back, bringing with them first happiness and then sadness. It was time for me to go. I got on the bike and peddled it back to town.
I never did come across Sam again, or anyone like her. But at least I still have my memories, memories of my summer in wonderland.
INTRODUCTION
This is the second of four interrelated recollections by a man in the late summer of life, recalling the events of some unusual summers, and the members of the female persuasion who made them so unusual and worth remembering.
My Summer In The Big City
By: Zylux
The time was the late sixty's and my friends and I had managed to survive our first year at a small university on the east coast. We had lived in on campus dorm rooms, which were cramped, noisy, and usually lacking in conditions for gainful study. But as bad as it was, none of us had thought about off campus housing until several graduating seniors in a campus social group we had joined announced that they would no longer need the houses they were renting. The current third years already had off campus housing and didn't want to move. But there was a lot of interest among the soon to be second and third years, so it was decided that a lottery would be held. Ed, one of my friends, and I were lucky enough to be among those drawn. With the departing seniors vouching for our character, the landlord accepted our applications. There was one problem for both of us though, money. Housing near the campus was very expensive to rent. Our parents would help out but made it clear that we would have to get summer jobs and earmark most of what we made to the payment of the rent to which we agreed.
Jobs in a small college town were hard to come by and didn't pay all that well. Ed and I decided we would try a bigger city, New York City. Mark, one of the graduating seniors, had secured a loft there and invited us to join him for the summer as long as we contributed toward the expenses. The loft was located in an area populated mostly by artists and actors. It was perfect for Mark as his course of study throughout his college years was anything connected with theatrical production. He described the neighborhood as a bit seedy, but not nearly as bad as New York can get. At any rate, it was affordable, if we could find work. We would also have to sub-rent the house, and found some first years that wanted to remain in the college town over summer and needed a place to stay. With that problem solved, there was nothing left to hold us back. The three of us packed our bags and made for the bus depot. Little did I know that for the second time in my young life, I was about to embark on a very unusual adventure I would not forget.
The adventure began, innocently enough, with an eight to nine hour uneventful bus ride to New York City. We passed through some beautiful country and some not so beautiful cityscapes. Overall it was a pleasant trip, but we were much relieved when the bus finally pulled into the New York City terminal late in the afternoon. The terminal was located next to a subway station and from there, it was but a short train ride to a station within walking distance of Mark's loft.
The loft was located on the fifth floor of a converted and renovated old brick factory building. We hit the small lobby and discovered that it was walkup only, but being young and full of dreams of riches that would soon be ours, we practically flew up the stairs. Mark unlocked the door to the loft and proceeded Ed and I inside. It was roomy but sparse. That would change once Mark started to earn an income. Sleeping arrangements were just as sparse, Mark would sleep in the only bedroom on an old rickety bed, and Ed and I would sleep on the living room floor in sleeping bags on air mattresses that we had brought with us. Still, when compared to the dorms, we would be living well. With the day approaching night we decided to hunt up some eats and call it a day. Job-hunting would start in the morning.
Morning came warm and humid. Mark had the promise of some kind of work with different theatrical groups through contacts he had made while in college. There wasn't much hope of any of them paying much, but at least he had his foot in the door and it was one of the main reasons he was able to rent the loft. He headed off to meet up with the rest of the group at a prearranged place, leaving Ed and I to clean up after breakfast before going out to hunt for jobs.
We soon hit the streets of New York filled with confidence, but that would change quickly. The surrounding neighborhood didn't offer much, and what was offered didn't pay more than minimum wage for jobs that were filthy and very labor intensive. By the end of the day I was thoroughly dejected. Ed didn't fair any better. It was a pattern that would repeat seemingly without end. The climb up the stairs at the end of each day got harder and harder.
By the end of the week I had become desperate and took a late afternoon job at a midsize restaurant washing dishes. I wouldn't get off work until after midnight, but that was workable, as it was only a couple of subway stations away from the loft. I would be able to continue searching for a decent job and still have time for sleep. The only real bad point was the boss. He seemed all right at first, a bit crude and a little harsh, but I just chalked that up to having to survive amongst the big flashy restaurants. He didn't show his true nature until after I got the job. Half the time he was barely tolerable, the rest of the time he was a rectal orifice, a fitting description considering what usually came out of his mouth. Oh well, at least I was making money, but not much.
Things continued the same for the next couple of weeks. Ed did manage to land a decent, but low paying job, and while I wasn't finding other work, I was gaining knowledge of the layout of the City's financial and business districts. My young memory was forming a mental map for a good part of the city. I could read an address in the help wanted ads and usually find it without consulting a paper map. It was a skill that was about to pay off.
It was late morning on an already hot and muggy day in New York's financial district. I was crossing the street at a major intersection, when out of nowhere a guy on a bicycle wearing a baseball cap and a small backpack shot through the crowd in the crosswalk. He made a left turn and forced his way into the cross traffic amidst a chorus of horns from irate taxi drivers. I had managed to jump back in time and keep my balance. An old woman next to me wasn't so fortunate. She stumbled back and ended up sitting on the pavement. As I helped her up she started cursing at the long gone cyclist.
"Are you all right?"
"I'll live, no thanks to that messenger. THERE OUGHT TO BE LAWS, THE COPS SHOULD ARREST THE LOT OF YA! YA HEAR ME!"
"He didn't stop for anything, not for the red light, people, or even cars. Why? He could hurt someone or get himself killed, it doesn't make sense."
"It's all about money. The faster he makes a delivery the faster he can get another run, and the more runs he makes the more he earns."
"I would think his life is worth more than a few bucks."
"That's just it; they are paid well as they are the fastest and sometimes the only way that anything can get through the jammed streets. It's probably the best paying job around for a young man who doesn't mind taking risks."
"Here comes another one, where are they coming from?"
"There's a service a couple of blocks up the street here. Well, thank you for your kindness, young man."
And with those last words, the old lady moved on and was quickly absorbed into the crowd. Her words went to work on my mind, especially "paid well". I consider myself a top-notch bike rider having spent most of my youth on one, both on and off road, and with my newly acquired knowledge of the street layout, I figured to have an excellent chance of getting a job with a messenger service. It was certainly worth a try so I turned and headed up the street.
The service was easy to find. I spotted a bike rider coming down the street wearing the same cap as the other two. He suddenly made a hard turn to his right and disappeared into the front of a building. When I reach the spot of disappearance, I found an entrance to a parking garage with a bicycle rack inside next to an office door. Next to the entrance on the outside of the building, was a glass door with the messenger services name on it. The receptionist greeted me upon entry and asked how she might be of service. I told her that I would like to apply for a job as a messenger. She pulled some forms and a clipboard from her desk drawer and handed them to me. In short order, I had them filled in and gave them back to her. She took them to a nearby office, and then came back to her desk. A few minutes later a man emerged from the office, called my name and motioned me to come.
"Have a seat Tom. So, just what makes you think you can be a messenger?"
"I used to ride bicycles off road competitively back home. I also know the streets around here well enough to find just about any address you can throw at me. Try me."
He did. He gave an address on the extreme fringe of the financial district. I thought for a moment, then shot back with the nearest cross street and the route I would take to get there. He rattled off a couple more places covering a sizable area of the main part of the city. They didn't give me any trouble. He was impressed.
"Your in luck, one of my top riders was in an accident a couple of days ago. He's out for the rest of the summer and we're coming into one of the busiest times of the year. You're the only one I've interviewed so far who I feel can do the job. But there's one thing I have to caution you on. We work on a seniority system not a rotational one. The guy in the dispatch room with the most seniority gets first pick of any run that comes in. So, the only way you're going to be making a run is if you're the only guy in the room, or nobody else wants it. If you still want the job, it's yours."
"I do want it, and I can start now if you can use me."
"Done deal. Sign this form and fill out this one for the Gov. and then we'll fix you up with a company hat and get you over to dispatch."
Once outfitted, I was introduced around the dispatch room. The dispatcher was a stout man of Italian decent by the name of Antonio, business like but friendly. I took an instant liking to him. The guys seemed friendly enough, I guess it was because I wasn't any threat to their livelihood, being low man on the totem poll.
Most of the day was spent listening to the guys tell of their most hair-raising runs. I did make a couple of runs that day and it was on one hand a thrill I shall not forget, and on the other, the scariest thing I've ever done. Cars get real big when one tries to thread between them on a frail bicycle. It was to be the pattern for the next month and I soon slipped into the routine until one fateful day.
That particular day had been a miserably slow one, and the heat wasn't helping matters. The end of the work day was fast approaching and the room was crowed. My chances of a run were virtually nil. A few of the guys came to the same conclusion and decided to call it a day. They decided to hit the local watering hole before heading home. The thought of a cold beer, as opposed to sitting in that hot room, was quite seductive and I made a motion to join them, but for reasons unknown, decided to stay. That left just three of us in the room. That's when things got interesting.
Two orders came in quick succession and suddenly I was the only one left in the room. Now if only the phone would ring. I thought "ring damn it". It worked. It rang.
Antonio picked up the receiver, gave a grunt, and started scribbling on the work order pad. That's when one of the guys who had been on a run dragged him self in. My hopes sank. He looked at the ticket but just shook his head. It would turn out to be a long, hard run and he was evidently too tired and hot to do it so close to the end of the day. The run was mine.
"You're up. Go to this address, it's about here on the map, go around to the back to the shipping dock. You'll see a desk with an old man wearing an even older beret. He's got two packages that need to be taken to this address in the garment district. Report to the rear entrance. They need it yesterday, capisci?"
I took the work order, gave the map a quick look see and headed for the bike rack in the parking garage. I mounted up and headed out the garage onto the street. Traffic was jammed. I had to squeeze in and out between cars and weave through pedestrians on the sidewalk. I wasn't going to be making any friends this trip.
I didn't have any trouble finding the pick up point, it just took a lot longer than I would have liked. After being shown the work order, the old man pointed to two long, flat boxes lying nearby on the loading dock. They were a bit wider than the bike's handlebars, which would make weaving through traffic more problematic then usual. I strapped them to my back and adjusted them until they rested on the rear wheel fender. I was off. All things considered, I made good time and most likely made the hit list of more than a few drivers and pedestrians.
The garment district was like nothing I had ever seen before. Delivery trucks would stop in traffic and disgorge packages and racks of clothing, all of which was maneuvered across traffic, and made to disappear into large doorways or down narrow side passageways. Any vehicle trying to pass had to run a slalom course from one side of the street to the other and back. Workmen, carrying clothing and packages of every description, crowed both sides of the street, spilling out into traffic. Motor scooters tried to thread their way through it all, adding to the bedlam.
I some how found the address I was looking for. Coming around to the back of the building, I was confronted by a steel double door with a security camera mounted above. In the middle of the left hand door was a sign that read "ALL DELIVERIES HERE". On the wall to the right of the doors was a white square with a button and the word "ring". I had no sooner pushed the button when one of the doors flew open. A large man in some kind of security uniform filled the opening. He looked down at me but on seeing the packages, stepped back and motioned me in. I leaned my bike against the wall next to the guard's desk while he picked up the phone and dialed a couple of numbers.
"Their here. Right. Okay, go straight ahead to the end of this rack of scenery props and go left. Go to the far wall and turn right 'til ya come to a large cuttin' table. Give the goods to Edna. Got it? Good, don't touch anything, and most importantly, don't get in the way."
Simple enough, but getting there wasn't. It was like trying to negotiate a minefield while playing dodge ball. People, theatrical material, boxes, crates, racks of clothing, and loose clothing of all kinds were everywhere and half of it was in motion, some without a body attached. I managed to survive the gauntlet and found Edna.
"At last! Took ya long enough."
"Sorry, all the lights were green and I didn't know what to do."
"Funny, just give me your ticket so I can sign it. Here, show it to the guard on your way out, he'll take care of the tip."
She turned away and started to rip open the boxes, barking out orders to those around her as she did so. I started to leave the way I had come when I noticed that the models dressing area was adjacent occupying the center area of the building. An aisle way ran along the edge of it leading back towards the other side of the building where I came in at. Curiosity got the better of me, and besides, it looked a lot safer than the way I had come, at least that's what I'd say to anyone objecting to my being there. Of course we all know the real reason for my taking that route.
Now, let me just say that I wasn't some hormone-crazed young male and I had seen a half naked girl or two. But this was different; they were everywhere and in plain view of everyone, male or female. The models seemed to be oblivious to all the people around them, not noticing if anyone was looking at them. Come to think of it, no one was looking, outside of those assisting the models in dressing and undressing. Everyone else just went about doing whatever job they had to do.
As I started out I noticed that the dressing area was divided by type of clothing, like evening, casual, etc. and not so much by male and female. I made it about half way across when a young woman fifteen feet to my left front stopped me cold in my tracks. She was cute as all get out. She had an upturned button nose and short blond hair in a pixy cut. Her skin was the smoothest, softest looking I had ever seen. As I starred, she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. I watched it slip down her silken arms reveling her perfectly proportioned breasts. Suddenly she stopped what she was doing, turned, and looked straight at me. She cooked her head, raised one eyebrow and shot me a reproaching gaze. I instantly felt the blood rush to my face. I must have been as red as a stop sign. I turned away, bowed my head, and resumed my journey, very much embarrassed. But I was not to get off so easily, for she let out a loud wolf whistle that caused everybody around us to stop and look… at me. Not good. She then said something that got some oohs from those around her. I didn't really hear her as I was too busy looking for a dark hole to crawl into.
As my little drama unfolded, an authoritative, high class, middle aged woman wearing an expensive, custom tailored, brown pinstripe skirt suit, approached from the opposite direction with a small entourage. She was very upset and was loudly letting everyone in the building know it. I became frozen with fear. Had she seen what had just happened? Man, if she had, then I was really going to catch it.
"Has that model shown up yet? Has anyone called the agency?"
"I called them, Miss T. They can't find her, don't know where she is. They said that her roommate thinks she skipped…"
"GREAT, that’s just flippin' great. Have they got a replacement?"
"No, Miss T, no one who comes even close to your specifications."
"What about the other agencies?"
"Sorry, Miss T, no one has anyone who could get here today."
"This just keeps getting better and better. Have we got anyone in the building I can draft into service."
"No, Miss T, I've checked every department."
"So just what am I supposed to…. YOU THERE! COME HERE!"
Miss T was starring and pointing at ME. I was so scared that I still don't know to this day how I managed to get my feet to move. They just did, mostly on their own.
"You I haven't seen around here before, what are you doing here?"
"I'm a messenger, Miss, um, T, just delivering a couple of packages. I'm on my way out."
"Messenger, huh, let's see…"
Miss T stared at me with her left arm bent across her body, resting her right elbow in her left hand and pinching her chin with her right thumb and fore finger. One of Miss T's assistants made a motion for me to stand straight with shoulders back. Miss T then indicated for me to turn my head to the right then back and to the left with the first two fingers of her right hand. At that point in time I still was fair of face. I was shaving, but I could skip a few days before it would be noticed. I also liked having my hair on the long side, although it was considerably longer than usual as I hadn't gotten a haircut since I came to New York, not really having the money to spend on such a luxury. I must have been quite a sight.
"Tell me, do you make good money?"
"Well, yeah, that is when I can get a run. I'm on the bottom of the seniority list, so…"
"Yes, yes, how would you like to make some serious money?"
"Sure, what do I have to do?"
"Spend a few hours modeling a new line of teen clothing. The model we spent weeks searching for is a no show. You are the only one in this entire building with the attributes required and close enough in size to model this new line. This way."
It was more of a command, than a request. I was engulfed by Miss T's entourage and swept deep into the models dressing area.
"Miss T, please tell me the model is here, we're running out of time."
"She's not coming Angela, but I may have found a replacement. Think the clothes will fit him?"
"Let's see, some might be tight in the waist but I don’t think that will be a problem, for the review anyway. Here hold this up against him."
Angela had taken a short purple paisley dress from a rack of clothes next to her and had given it to one of Miss T's assistants, who held it up against me. With her hands, Angela smoothed the dress around to my sides under my arms and checked both sides. She repeated the procedure all the way down past my hips. I was too shocked to immediately say anything.
"It's a pretty good fit, I'll take him."
"Hey wait a minute Miss T, I can't wear this. I'm not a girl."
"Susan will take care of that. Just think of yourself as an actor wearing a costume. Besides, no one will be looking at you specifically, their interested in the clothes and the overall look."
"Okay, so why not get a girl to do the modeling, after all, it's for girls, right?"
"Yes, and if I could find the right one I certainly would, but the look we need is a boyish, flat chested one. With your fair face and slender body shape you fit the bill as well as, if not better than, the model we had contracted for."
"But I don't know of any girl who wants to be flat chested and look like a boy, well, maybe one, but still."
"It's the fashion look that’s become hot due to a skinny model that goes by the name of Twiggy, who has taken the London fashion scene by storm. The rest of the fashion world is scrambling to jump on board the band wagon before it runs out of gas."
"But I'm not a model; I don't know what to do."
"I can help him out there, Miss T. Hi, I'm Tia."
That voice had come from behind me. Turning to meet it I came face to face with the young woman I had stared at earlier. She had a grin on her face, a grin like one I had last seen nearly ten years prior. A Cheshire cats grin last worn by a special little girl by the name of Sam. It looked like I hadn't finished paying for my earlier indiscretion.
"All right, Tia, the job's yours. Now, as for you, let's get you down to Susan."
Things were starting to move too fast. Before I could comprehend and deal with one situation, I was being coerced into another. Just what had I gotten my self into? Just when did I actually agree to do this?
Miss T led me, surrounded by her entourage, down through the models dressing area to the makeup area. There was a long counter with an equally long mirror behind it. It was broken into individual stations by vertical columns of high intensity lights. Each station had a swivel top stool and makeup items of every imaginable kind. Almost every stool was occupied by a model, both male and female, working on their look. There were also a few workstations like one would find in a barbershop, each with a makeup artist and a hair stylist. A model in varying stages of preparedness occupied a couple of the chairs. We approached one of the empty ones.
"Susan, Diane, I need the two of you to make him up for the new teen girls line. Can you do it, and in time for the review?"
Susan reached out and took hold of my chin. She turned my head to the left then all the way back to the right, staring intently at me all the while. She glanced at Diane who gave a quick nod.
"No problem, and it won't take long, he's two thirds of the way there all ready. Should make a convincing girl. You want this one neutered as well?"
"No, not just yet. Besides I suspect that Tia has designs on him."
"Ooooh, she's cute, but she'll eat him alive, probably right after mating. You might want to start looking for a replacement if you intend to keep him on for the premier."
I don't know if it was fright or shock that prevented me from uttering a word of protest. All I could do was stand there with my mouth and eyes wide open. I started looking for an escape route. Then from behind me came a snicker, and that set everyone off. I found myself surrounded by laughter. It was a joke. Of course it was a joke. I knew that.
"Have a seat, uh… What's your name?"
"Tom."
"Well Tom, in a little bit you can say hello to Tommie with an 'ie'."
"Well, that's settled, you're hired. Susan, Diane, I'll leave him in your hands then. Raul, put him on the day's payroll and help him fill out and sign the proper forms, keep us square with the government. Come people we've got a lot more work to do. Now, has anyone thought of a name for this new teen line yet?"
"I have a thought, Miss T. What do you think …?"
Miss T and all had quickly moved off and given the noise level in that building, out of hearing range. Suddenly Miss T's authoritative voice came booming through the bedlam.
"I LIKE IT! JACK… I NEED A NEW PLACARD STAT!"
If I had thought things were moving fast before, it was nothing compared to what was about to happen. It's all a blur that has only gotten cloudier with time.
Raul had remained behind fumbling through one of the folders he was carrying. He pulled out a couple of forms and started asking me questions, writing down my answers as a circle of paper was placed around my neck, covering my shoulders. Susan started to smear some thick makeup on my face, while Diane rubbed some kind of cream or gel into my hair. For the second time in my life I was being turned into a girl and for reasons unknown I was accepting it. That is, until Diane picked up a pair of scissors. I pulled back away from her and was about to utter some words of protest when she cut me off.
"Relax, you needed a hair cut anyway, and I'm not going to do anything I can't fix later. I promise you won't leave here looking like a girl, unless you want to. You do seem to be at ease with spending the next few hours as a girl, perhaps this isn't new to you."
"WHAT, NO! I'm only doing this because I really need the money."
"Whatever you say, hun, now hold still and we'll get on with our work."
Scissors and comb danced through my hair, many different brushes, and what looked like pencils of different colors, flew across my face. Raul's Q&A didn't take very long and was wrapped up with me signing each form. The transformation, on the other hand, took some time. Diane finished with my hair and then went to work on my fingernails, giving each a coat of bright red paint. Just as she was applying polish to the last nail, Susan finished with my makeup and turned the chair toward the mirror. I starred into the mirror and a teenage girl who I didn't know, starred back. She had light smooth skin with a minimal makeup look, although a lot more work had been done than met the eye. Her hair was styled in the manor of the classic bob, but instead of bangs, it sweep across most of the forehead to the side. The sides hung straighter with only part of the curl characteristic of the bob and there was an overall touch of shagginess. It struck me as being perfect for that rebellious teen look. I knew it was me, but I was hard pressed to actually see me in that mirror.
"You make a cute girl. I think your own mother wouldn't know it's you, unless she was intently looking for you, and even then she would have to have a good reason to do so."
"That's really me? That can't be, I mean that's a, a…"
"Trust me, that's you, but you don't have time to work it out, you had better get back to wardrobe and change clothes."
I worked my way back to Angela, who greeted me with much delight.
"You’re here at last, where have you been? I'll have to find that boy and tell … him ... wait, nooo, you're HIM!"
"Yeah, it's me, Susan just finished…."
"She has out done herself. I wouldn't be surprised if Susan will want to put your picture up on her trophy wall. You're exactly what we need, just perfect. Well, hurry up and take your clothes off, here, I'll help you."
I went to work removing my shoes and socks with Angela helping to steady me. I unhooked my belt then unzipped my jeans and slid them down and off. Angela took hold of my shirt and carefully pulled it up over my head. "We'll have to do something with those legs. White stockings, yes, that should do it."
She quickly disappeared behind a rack of clothes and almost as quickly reappeared, ripping open a package of long white stockings. She rolled one up and held it for me to slip my foot into, then unrolled it up my leg to my thigh. She repeated the procedure with the other stocking, and then turned to the rack of clothing.
Angela disassembled a skirt, blouse, and jacket outfit that was hanging at the front of the rack. She picked up the short sleeve white blouse and held it behind me. I slipped my arms into the sleeves as she pulled it up onto my shoulders. I went to work on the buttons, fumbling a bit as they were opposite of my shirts. She then handed me the skirt. It was a flared mini skirt with bold black, white, and tan diagonal stripes that formed an inverted "v" pattern front and back, really accentuating the flare of the skirt. I stepped into it and pulled it up, tucking in the blouse. Angela zipped it up behind me and fiddled with the waistband.
Suddenly she moved off to a rack of shoes in a lot of different styles and sizes, returning with a pair of brightly colored platform shoes, which she placed on the floor before me. I slipped one foot into the corresponding shoe, and then tried to slip my other foot into its shoe while trying to balance on the other foot in the unfamiliar foot wear. It wasn't easy, but after no small amount of stumbling about, managed to get both shoes on.
Angela presented the ¾ length sleeve jacket that matched the skirt except the stripes formed a "V" pattern that slopped up and out instead of down and out. I put it on and took a look in a nearby mirror. It was a bold, but cute outfit, to short for my tastes, but then I was supposed to be a 60's teenage girl. She handed me a few bright, multicolored plastic bracelets. These I slipped over my hands onto my wrists as she clipped similar earrings to my earlobes.
"We're finished with this outfit, get on down to the staging area. Oh, and stop by makeup for any needed touchup."
"Tom, is that you? You look amazing; you make a cute girl. Watch out, you're going to be hit on by all the guys around here."
"Very funny Tia. And I seemed to have been christened Tommie, with an 'ie'."
"Okay Tommie with an 'ie', let's begin your training. This deserted area next to makeup will do fine. Now, this is just a review to fine-tune the designs and overall look, so you can get by with basic modeling techniques. If Miss T wants to keep you for the premiere, then you'll need some serious training and lots of practice. First, the walk is everything; it draws attention to you and then the outfit. Try walking as if you are on a narrow beam and place one foot directly in front of the other."
I did as instructed. It went pretty well, although the unfamiliar shoes made it more difficult than it probably was. After all, I never had to walk around on my toes before. Thank goodness the shoes had large heels that weren't too high. I never would have been able to walk in the high spike heels that most of the female models were wearing. It took a few passes, but I managed to get the hang of it. It was on to makeup.
Susan spotted me coming and motioned me to her. She stopped work on a model in her chair long enough to take a brush, rub it in a dish of face powder, and brush over a couple of spots on my face while Diane touched up my hair. Susan gave me a final look over, then gave Tia a touchup. As she did, I moved over to a standing full-length mirror. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It wasn't just that I had been transformed into a very convincing girl, but that I had allowed it to be done, and with so many strangers around. Granted, only a few knew I wasn't a girl, and everyone was too busy to even look at me. Still, it was a strange feeling to be wearing girl's clothes with so many people around. Tia had finished and came over to check herself out in the mirror.
"You ready Tommie? Let's work on your walk on the way down to the staging area. You have nice hip action but I want you to exaggerate it. As you take a step, force your hips to swing more than they want to go naturally, and turn your body into the step. Like this. See what I'm trying to say? Try it."
It wasn't easy and it took a lot of hands on help, literally, from Tia. I eventually did manage to add enough swing and sass to my walk to adequately present the line of clothing I was to model. It was clear that there needed to be a lot more training if I was to be in the premiere show, assuming I wanted to be.
We finished up just as the staging director started to arrange the models in groups. I was in the middle of the second group to go on stage; Tia was in the first group. The director gave us our instructions on how to proceed. It seemed simple enough. Only half of the stage would be used and the runway not at all. We were to enter stage left and walk toward the center of the stage stopping on our mark indicated by tape on the stage floor, turn to face the audience, and strike our pose. We would be prompted to walk to the front of the stage, stop and hold our pose for a three count, then turn 180, hold for a three count, then take a half step, turn back to the audience and wait for further instructions. Unless otherwise directed, we were to return to our mark and turn to face the audience. We were to remain until dismissed, then turn and exit the way we had come. As we returned back stage we were to bear to the outside and come in behind the next group waiting to go on stage.
The director then arranged the first group into a line up and then walked up the line to the head end, inspecting each model and altering his or her pose as needed to get the look he wanted. He completed his inspection and sent the first group out on stage. He then turned his attention to my group. He did the same procedure as he had done with the first group, and then began his inspection, working up the line, coming to stand before me. He looked me over from head to toe and back with a critical eye. Not knowing how to pose, I had copied the model next to me. The director didn't like it.
"No, no, that’s not what I want; show me something less formal with a touch of tomboy."
Yeah, right. I had no clue as what to do. This charade was about to come to an end and there was a chance that I would be unmasked in front of a lot of young men and women. I had to think and fast.
It was Sam who came to the rescue. I suddenly remembered how she looked and acted when her mom had forced her to wear a dress about a decade prior. I altered the pose to less from the front and more from the side; put both hands on my hips and added a bit of a slouch. I then put a devilish look on my face. I don't why, I just did. It worked.
"That's it; just move this hand down to your thigh. Perfect, you must have some tomboy in you, miss."
I can't begin to relate just how happy I was that there was no one around who knew my real identity as they wouldn't have been able to hold their laughter. The director moved on, finishing his inspection just as the first group was returning. He motioned us to the ready line, and then as the last of the first group left the stage, the cue was given for us to enter.
That was the defining moment, and I remember it all too well. I was nervous as all get out and with good reason. I was about to appear in front of an unknown audience in disguise, under a humongous bright spotlight, and be scrutinized to the nth degree. Of course, it wouldn't be that bad, but my mind wouldn't accept anything less. I was quickly convincing myself that I couldn't do it, when Tia passed behind me.
"Break a leg Tommie."
She gave me a look of total confidence and moved on. But why did she have to call me Tommie in front of everyone? Even with a written 'ie' it was still a boy's name. I was becoming embarrassed and wishing I had been given or had taking a more feminine stage name. But there wasn't time to fret over it as I was about to take my first step on stage under the big lights.
Exiting the dark side chamber onto the brightly lit stage took everything I could muster. I was becoming so overwhelmed that I nearly forgot I had a task to perform. The models in front of me started to stop and turn to the stage front. That refocused my mind; there was a mark to find. I nearly overshot it, but saved myself by making a much sharper turn than the other models, causing the addition of some attitude to the tomboy pose I quickly assumed. The audience was very small and all were visible, and they were starring at me. With the state I was in, my only thought was that something had gone wrong and I had been exposed as a boy, but all eyes quickly moved on, all except Miss T's. She was smiling and beaming with a look of satisfaction. She gave me an almost imperceptible nod, then moved on resuming her authoritative look.
I held my pose until I was called forward. I remembered my instructions and carried them out to the letter. Someone called out:
"Thank you, next."
I returned to my spot and assumed my pose until we were dismissed. Once backstage, I slipped into a daze; I couldn't believe what had just taken place. It didn't seem real, nothing seemed real, and I had to be dreaming. I was jolted awake by a hand on my shoulder. It was one of the female models.
"Nice job, Tommie is it? You really sold that outfit, way to go girl."
Before I could utter some kind of reply, she had hurried off in the direction of wardrobe; in fact, all the models were doing the same. I got the idea that I should follow suit. As the other models came to their respective dressing area, they started to strip out of the clothes and toss them wherever it was out of the way. I took my cue from them and was stepping out of the skirt as I came up to Angela. I removed the jacket as Angela unbuttoned the blouse with astonishing speed. In short order I was standing before her in only the stockings and my shorts, boy shorts that is. That's when it struck me that it would be a strange sight for anyone who happened to glance my way. Of course, exchanging my shorts for something more fitting, exposing my "identity" (for no matter how short a period of time) was out of the question. I was just going to have to muck through it and hope for the best.
Angela retrieved from the rack a sleeveless, black and white checkerboard, plastic looking mini dress and held it in front of me by the hem. I knew the routine from my experiences ten years prior and extended my arms out in front of me. She slid the dress up my arms, over my head, and into place as I raised my arms up.
"I see you've done this before. Good, that will make things easier and faster."
What? NO! I haven't, I'm just copying what the others around us are doing. That's all."
"If that be the case, then I must say that you're a fast learner and most observant."
She shot me a bit of a smile, and then presented me with a wide, white vinyl belt with an oversized black buckle. She hooked it around me, way down on my hips. Black canvas shoes, black and white plastic earrings and bracelets, and a black and white checkered beret, placed on an angle on my head, completed the look. A quick stop at Susan's and it was off to the staging area once more.
For the next couple of hours, this scenario repeated it's self over and over. Events were moving so fast, that I quickly lost track of how many outfits I modeled. It is difficult to remember individual outfits, as one just merges into the other. Except for the last one. It was destined for me to remember that one forever.
It was innocent enough, just a plain yellow velvet sheath with a cowl neckline. The hem was two inches above the knees, short, but not a mini. A gold chain encircled me low down on my hips with gold hoop earrings clipped to my ears. Long white vinyl boots with side zippers completed the outfit. I really liked that outfit (and still do).
When I came off stage, I didn't want to return to wardrobe. I just wanted to spend some time in my outfit. I don't know why, I just did. Just then, the director pulled me from the group.
"They want you over in photography. It's on the other side of staging."
He put his hand in the small of my back and gave me a little push in the right direction. It looked like I was going to get to wear the dress a little longer after all.
The photographer was busy with another model, so I stood off to the side and watched. The model was moving without much direction. She would strike a pose and would then change the placement of her hands, feet, and head. The photographer was snapping off shots almost non-stop.
"Okay, that should do it." He then looked at me, "Your up. Now, show me what ya got."
I noticed a mark on the seamless background that came down from behind and onto the floor. I moved to the indicated spot and struck my pose. The photographer was on his knees pointing his camera up at me.
"Excellent, now stare down at the camera. I like it, now run with it."
Run? Run where? I had no idea what to do. In desperation I started to imitate the other model. It guessed it was what was wanted as the camera was going off like a machine-gun. The shoot lasted but a minute.
"That should do it, that 'll be all miss."
As I moved out of the bright lights I spotted Tia in an otherwise deserted staging area looking at me, wearing her street clothes and a big grin. I figured that I was in for some ribbing. Hoping to lessen the attack, I rushed past her and headed for the dressing area. She followed right behind me.
"'That 'll be all, MISS!' Oooh, you still got the walk, shake it girl."
I resisted responding, so she altered her attack.
"You know, you did really well, and you do make a cute girl, you just might consider a career as a female impersonator."
That did it. I turned on Tia and was about to unload on her when I realized that we were then in an area populated by people who didn't know who I was, or what I wasn't. With a big sigh, I relaxed and put my hand up in front of me.
"Oh no you don't, nice try, but you're not going to prod me into an embarrassing situation."
"Spoil sport. Besides, I think red is a good color for you, especially your face."
I again resisted taking the bait and resumed my trek toward Angela. It had been a tiring but interesting, and a little disturbing, day. I had done things that I never would have believed I was capable of doing and kind of liked it. It had been an adventure that still remains mostly a blur, but unforgettable none the less. But, I had had enough and it was time for Tommie to fade into retirement.
Coming into Angela's, Tia unzipped me and I peeled off the dress. I was back in my street clothes in short order. Then it was off to see Susan.
Susan saw me coming and pulled a Polaroid camera out of a drawer. Angela had been right; I was going to be added to Susan's trophy wall. Oh well, she deserved it. Thanks to her skills, I had passed as a teenage girl. Just for the fun of it, I gave her my Tommie look and she snapped off a head shot. After the picture finished developing she pined it to an open spot at dead center of the trophy wall. I felt honored, and still do.
I took a seat and Susan went to work removing the makeup and nail polish. Diane shampooed the gunk out of my hair, followed by an attack with a blow dryer. She restyled my hair to look close to a shorter version what I had come in with, but still had a slight feminine undertone. That didn't exactly please me, and I was trying to think of a tactful way of complaining when Miss T paid us a visit.
"Tom, well done! You exceeded my expectations in both looks and performance."
"Thank you Miss T, but all the credit belongs to these three and the director."
"Well done all, but Tom, I think you are giving away too much of the credit. Your actions and overall impression were more like a girl's than you could have picked up in a few minutes. Either you have a natural talent or you've had prior training. No matter, you're in for the premiere showing in two weeks. Now, you're going to need more training before the first rehearsal, check with my secretary, she can pull a few strings and get you into some private lessons at one of the modeling schools on the quick."
"Thank you, Miss T, but I don't think I want to…"
"Nonsense, you said you could use the money. You think you've made good money today, just wait until you get paid for the show. Diane, I see you haven't completely restyled his hair yet, excellent, that cut you came up with was perfect for this line."
"I anticipated your need. I trimmed just enough to remove most of the feminine look. There's a little left, but I think Tom can put up with it for a couple weeks. Shouldn't have any trouble recreating the look on show day."
"Excellent, and Tom, I expect you to call me in the next day or two to confirm your being in the show."
And with that, Miss T was off, headed for parts unknown. Looking around, the building, that just a couple of hours ago, was pure bedlam was now nearly silent. Only a handful of people were left, finishing up their assigned tasks. Tia and I headed off for the back entrance and found Raul waiting for us near the guard's desk. He handed each of us an envelope and wished us a goodnight. I folded the envelope in half and slipped it into my back pocket. As we came to the guard he gave me an inquisitive look.
"There you are, took you long enough to make one simple delivery. Don't tell me you got lost, or maybe you decided to hang around and ogle the girls."
"Neither, I got shanghaied."
"A likely story. Let's see your ticket. Okay, here ya go."
I fetched my bike and exited the building as Tia held the door open. The scene outside had calmed down considerably. Tired and ready to head home, I was about to bid Tia a goodnight when she spoke first.
"Neither? Sure you weren't 'ogling' me?"
"Look, I'm really sorry about that, it's just that you're, uh, so…"
"Relax, it's Okay, I didn't mind. So, did you see anything you liked?"
I tried to reply, but all I could do was stammer and turn bright red.
"You know, I can train you for the show, and I'll be a lot more affordable, should save you some embarrassment too."
"Since it doesn't look like Miss T is going to take no for an answer, I just may have to take you up on that."
"Great, we can get started tonight, we'll just go back to my…"
"TONIGHT? Wait, what time is it? Oh great! Sorry, I can't, I work nights at a restaurant, and I'm going to be way late as it is."
"Tom, think for a moment, you're going to make more money in one day than in several months at that restaurant. You can afford to quit."
"I'm not sure about the show; besides, I would still have to give notice. I'll get with you in a day or two and we'll go from there. Thanks for everything you've done for me, I owe you. I gota run."
"Wait, here's my card, it has a number on it that you can reach me at."
With a hasty goodnight, I stuffed the card in my back pocket, mounted the bike and was off as Tia headed off to the main street to flag down a taxi. The traffic was heavy but wasn't a problem. A street vendor provided me with a well-stuffed sandwich to eat on the run. New York City has some of the best places to eat in the world, and many of them don't have walls. I came to the back of the restaurant and entered through the delivery door. I leaned the bike against the wall and went to punch in. I was more than just a little late.
The boss intercepted me at the time clock. He laid into me using language I wouldn't repeat in a room full of drunken reprobates. He finally exhausted himself out and stormed off, questioning my spices of origin. Everyone around turned away from me, avoiding eye contact. It was going to be a lonely night.
I stood in front of the time clock thinking to myself, "if only I had a ticket out of here". Then Tia's words came back to me. Maybe I did have a ticket. Pulling the envelope from my back pocket, I opened it up, and pulled out a check. It had numbers on it that caused me to stagger. To say the pay was better than anything I could make washing dishes would be the understatement of the year. And that was for just a few hours, and I wasn't even an amateur, let alone a professional model.
Without hesitation, I hunted up the boss and gave notice. He fired me on the spot, after some more colorful language. I smiled at him and said "thank you", and told him to mail me my last check. I headed for the back door, retrieving the bike on the way, and exited the building into the warm, humid, evening air. Thoughts of hooking up with Tia and celebrating my newfound freedom lost out to being just plain overwhelmed by the unbelievable events of the day. It was off to Mark's loft.
Mark and Ed were surprised to see me, as they knew I usually went from the messenger service straight to the restaurant. I, of course, had to explain that I had been fired, but had secured a far better job in the garment district. I evaded their attempts to gain details about the new job by diverting their attention to Tia and added that I would be seeing her in the evenings. They first congratulated me, then became jealous and wanted me to fix them up with models. I promised to try, but cautioned them to not to get their hopes up as I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. All perfectly true, I just didn't get into details, especially about why I would be seeing Tia.
The next morning arrived warm and humid with the promise of it going to be much hotter. Ed and Mark went off to their respective jobs while I stayed behind to call Miss T. She wasn't surprised at all that I had decided to accept the job, although I think I detected a slight note of relief in her voice. She was about to transfer me back to her secretary to get set up with training, when I told her that that had been taken care of. She just cautioned me to be ready for the rehearsal, said something I took to mean goodbye and hung up. I was off to work at my day job.
Upon arrival, I checked in with Antonio and turned in the ticket from the day before, then took a seat with the guys. During the course of the day, I did get to make a couple of routine runs, nothing to write home about. They didn't add up to much of a paycheck, but it was still better then nothing. Toward the end of the day I called Tia and accepted her offer to train me for the premiere showing. She seemed to be overly delighted and I kind of got the impression that she was up to something. Flashbacks involving a girl named Sam kept filling my head for the rest of the shift.
When my shift ended I made my way over to Tia's apartment. Surprisingly, it was located not too far from Mark's loft. It was in a nicer neighborhood but still on the fringe of the artist district. For me, it was perfect, as I could stop at the loft and get cleaned up before seeing her.
I entered the building into a small lobby and took the elevator up to the third floor. Signs pointed me in the right direction and I found Tia's apartment, just a couple of doors down the hall. She greeted me at her door with a big grin and all but physically pulled me inside. She was eager to get started.
The apartment was very contemporary with bright colors everywhere. There was a minimalist approach to furnishings with abstract art adorning the walls. It was an interesting place to visit, but I don't think I could live there for long.
We quickly got to work. The basics went all right; it was when we progressed toward the more extreme aspects of modeling that things started to fall apart. I wasn't even doing as well as I had at the review. Something was amiss, and neither of us could figure it out. Finally, after Tia had tried every teaching technique she knew, she said:
"Maybe we need a change in attitude, come with me."
She led me into her bedroom and told me to take off my clothes while she opened up her closet. She pulled out a white, mini flip skirt with side zipper and a bright red sleeveless silk blouse. Without so much as a single word of protest, I stripped to my shorts, then took the blouse and slipped it on. I started on the top buttons while Tia tied the lower half in a knot. She then held the skirt for me to step into. She hooked and zipped me in. White shoes with wide, two-inch high heels that were one size to small completed the outfit. Tia then went to work on my hair with a brush. When she finished, I moved to her full-length mirror. The transformation wasn't as complete as before without makeup, but was still startling. It was me, but I could pass as my sister, if I had one. I stood there not believing what I was seeing when something inside of me kicked in, and I suddenly struck my modeling pose. Tia indicated her approval with a round of applause.
"Welcome back Tommie. Come, we have work to do."
It wasn't a miracle cure, but it did make a difference. I progressed steadily for the rest of the session. Tia called a halt around 8:00pm. I retreated back into her bedroom and changed back into my clothes. Tia was disappointed.
"I was hoping you'd stay dressed so we could have a girl's night out. I've got training in makeup art and can do well enough that no one would suspect you're not a girl."
"No thanks. I'm going to have a hard enough time just doing the show, there's no way I can bring myself to go out in the general public as a girl."
"Then don't you think you should change your hair style? It looks rather feminine that way."
It was back to the bedroom with Tia following. While I combed my hair, She changed into the outfit I had been wearing, then made some adjustments to her makeup. She turned to me and posed with a big grin on her face. She looked way too hot and fast for me. A thought occurred to me: Susan may not have been teasing; Tia could indeed eat me alive. We exited the apartment to the elevator, lobby, and then out the building into the warm, humid, summer evening that was descending into twilight.
She led me to a café in the artiest district that had an old beatnik atmosphere about it. About a third of the clientele were musicians and most of them had their instruments with them. Music would spring up from anywhere at any time. The food was basic, nothing special. Still, over all, it was a fascinating joint that would be worth occasionally visiting. It was one of Tia's favorite places.
After we had dinner, she suggested another of her favorite places. It was a rock club that was a block and a half away, a very loud, noisy, and crowded club. Tia seemed to know everyone there and wasted no time getting into the swing of things. It quickly became apparent that she was a party girl.
As she dragged me around the club, she or one of her friends would regale me with tales of her wild escapades. I was disappointed that Tia was so extroverted, but there was something else going on that had me far more concerned, for each time she introduced me to someone, they greeted me with an odd look. I was trying to figure out why when it a likely reason dawned on me. I wanted to confront Tia about it, but couldn't do it there, just the same, all I wanted to do was leave.
"Tia, I think I'm going to call it a night, I have to get up in the morning. I'll call you tomorrow after work."
"Wait, I'll join you. We need to talk privately anyway. Say, at my place?"
"Well, Okay, but I can't stay long."
"It won't take long; we just need to talk about compensation for services rendered."
We left the club and headed back to her place. We walked back to her apartment for the most part in silence as my thoughts had consumed me. I again wanted to confront her, but decided to wait until we got back to the privacy of her place. A short time later she was unlocking her door and ushering me in. I didn't waste any more time.
"Tia, your friends were giving me some odd looks tonight. You haven't been talking about what happened at the fashion house, have you?"
"No, of course not! I wouldn't do that to you, although it wouldn't matter much. They're a liberal bunch and would be fascinated rather than shocked. You'd probably become a celebrity of sorts and get invited to all the big A-list parties."
"Okay, let's try to stay somewhat close to reality here. Anyway, it's not something I would want to become known beyond those few that already know. I do have a life to return to at the end of summer, and if family and friends were to learn of how I really earned money during summer, it would be, well, awkward."
"Your secret life is safe. And as for my friends odd looks, it was only because you are totally opposite of the men I usually date."
"But we're not exactly dating; you're teaching me how to perform for the upcoming fashion show."
"And that brings up the little matter of paying your teacher. But first, I can use your help with something. Can you come with me for a minute?"
She led me back to her bedroom and once inside, closed the door behind me with a bit of authority. That surprised me and I turned to face her. Tia had her back against the door with her arms slightly spread out and pressed against the door. She was grinning from ear to ear.
"Take off your clothes."
So that was it, payment was to be made in sex. While I wasn't a virgin, I also wasn't very experienced, and let her know it. The effect was one of great delight in Tia. She quickly came at me, grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled me to her. As she kissed me hard, she leaned into me and I willingly fell back onto the bed with her coming down on top of me. Something told me I was about to gain a different kind of education, the details of which I shall skip over. Let's just say, Tia proved to be as wild in bed as the life she led, and leave it at that.
The remaining days prior to the start of rehearsal for the show went pretty much the same way, with the differences being in what I had to learn. There's a lot more to modeling than how to walk. I got lessons in poise, attitude, and how to move and pose for the purpose of showing off the features and design innovations of the outfit being modeled. It didn't matter what I thought of the clothes, I had to act like I loved to be wearing them to the point of flaunting that fact. It was as if I were saying, "look what I’M wearing and you're NOT!" All of it was for the purpose of getting the target consumer to want to buy the clothes, to want to wear the clothes, to want to act like the model in the clothes, and unwittingly entice others to want to buy the clothes as well. It means really big bucks for the fashion house and is why the models that are really good at it are paid so much and are kept constantly in the public's face.
It was a lot of work and quickly took on the feel of being much more than I really needed. Tia's excuse was she didn't know what would be required of me, so I should be prepared for anything. Valid, but I think she just liked to dress me in her clothes, and have me model them for her. It was okay with me as I was kind of enjoying that part of it, even if her things were more risqué than I would have liked.
One thing did happen during that time that became an instant mystery. It was a letter from the fashion house that was addressed to me and sent to Mark's loft. It contained a sizable check with a notation about some kind of royalty payment. I couldn't think of any reason for it, but being in needed of the money, I didn't question it.
The first day of the rehearsal was scheduled to begin in the late morning. It wouldn't be worth putting in a couple of hours at the messenger service, so I called in sick. Besides, Tia wanted me to be at her place well in advance of when we would have to leave to arrive at the show site on time. I didn't think much about it; she probably wanted to run through a couple of things. Tia greeted me at the door of her apartment and ushered me off to her bedroom.
"Take your clothes off."
"Uh, we don't have time for that, do we?"
"It's not for that, lover boy. You need to hit the shower for some hair removal. You don't have much body hair and it can't be readily seen, but it has to go all the same."
"Why? It didn't have to when I was drafted into service for the review."
"Miss T gave me the word last night. You are officially in the show and registered as Tommie, with an "ie", a young woman, not a young man portraying a teenage girl. In addition, this is a combined show, several fashion houses will be there. The fashion world is cutthroat, and each house will have their own spies present, and their jobs are to uncover something that can be used with advantage against the other houses. If it were to be discovered that Tommie is not a girl, then the consequences would be high, not just for you, but for a lot of people starting with Miss T. So, if you want to keep things a secret and Miss T happy, then you will have to arrive in the most convincing manner as Tommie and maintain that attitude until we get back here sometime tonight. That means no body hair, a complete makeup job, and having to wear my clothes with these panties and shoes I bought for you."
"You mean I have to move through public, in broad daylight, as a girl? And on top of that, I have to keep from being discovered at the auditorium. No, I can't do this; I'm just not going to be able to. This is far more than I bargained for, I'm out. I don't care how much they're paying, I quit."
"You have to do it, you made a commitment, remember? And if you don't follow through, Miss T will make your life a living hell. She may even pursue you all the way back home, and I don't think you want that."
"But, the crowed streets, the subway…"
"We'll take a cab. That will eliminate almost all-public exposure. Don't worry, you can do it, and believe me, you will not be found out. Tell you what, wait until I'm finished with you, and then tell me somebody can tell you're not a girl."
Even if I didn't like the end result it wouldn't matter, I was stuck. She was right, I had made a commitment. Even in those days, there was still an honor code that meant something. I had to see this through, anxiety attack or not.
We got to work. Tia instructed me in the use of the hair removal lotion. Simple enough, nothing I couldn't handle, I just didn't want to. I some how forced myself to do it, and the end result was a bit startling. As I dried off, the towel easily slipped across my skin which felt very smooth, and the air felt a lot cooler than it had before. I stepped out of the shower and found a stack of clothing Tia had left for me.
I picked up the panties and slipped them on. They were heavy weight and very elastic, the combination of which helped to smooth out the bulge of my "true identity". There wasn't a bra, so I didn't have to figure out how to put that on. I guess being flat chested has its advantages, or could that be disadvantages? A stiff white shirt was next, followed by red Capri pants that fit tightly to my legs. The shoes Tia had bought on my behalf, a pair of white hi-heeled pumps in my size, was also there along with an odd pair of stockings that only covered the toes, heal, and bottom part of the foot. I donned these items and exited the bathroom.
Tia was finishing up getting ready. She then turned her attentions toward me. As she had alluded to at the end of our first training session, she, being a professional model, had training in the art of makeup. She wasn't Susan, but she was good enough. The end result was nearly as convincing as it had been at the review. From that point on, I was a girl and would have to act as such at all times. As I got up from the chair in front of her vanity, Tia handed me a red pocketbook. I looked inside and found it contained the things one would expect a young woman to carry with her. The only addition I made was to transfer my money to the pocketbook. It was time to go.
It wasn't easy to step out of Tia's apartment, but somehow I managed. Tia motioned toward the stairs next to the elevator. Clever girl, there would be far less of a chance of meeting someone on the stairs than in the elevator. We descended a couple of flights to the small ground floor lobby. There was a man looking at the directory, but he was too preoccupied to take notice of us as we rushed past him. We exited the building and I found myself on the street in broad daylight. Luck was still with me as the few people who were out and about were either too far away or too busy to cause concern.
Tia motioned for a cab that was parked up the street. The driver pulled away from the curb and quickly came down to pick us up. Tia opened the door and as she climbed in, gave the driver our destination. He was already checking for traffic as I climbed in. We were off.
After an uneventful trip through the hustle and bustle of New York City, we arrived at the backdoor of the auditorium. I paid the driver and we exited the cab. The door was open and a guard with a clipboard was standing just inside. Tia mentioned the fashion house and then her name as the guard moved a finger down the clipboard. He came to a stop, made a check mark, and gave her a nod. I then gave him my name (with the "ie") in as close to a female voice as I could and he repeated the process. I once again took myself to task for not having taken a real girl's name. He gave me a nod without so much as a second glance.
We worked our way across a very crowded building to where Miss T, the director, and most of the other models were. Within a few minutes the rest of the models had arrived. Miss T gave a pep talk, then turned things over to the director. He went over the choreography for the show, pointing out where we would form up, where we would go, what we would do, and so on, with a big emphasis on timing. He put us through some of the things we would be doing as we waited for our turn to use the stage. It was during this time that each model would be called away to have his or her picture taken, a mystery at the time.
Our reserved block of stage time finally came, and the rehearsal really kicked into gear. Everyone, including myself, quickly got with the program. The training I had gotten from Tia was paying off; I actually knew what I was doing. That is, until my first turn on the runway. That's when I noticed just how big the auditorium was, and it hit me that this wasn't for some small group, oh no, the audience was going to be huge, with buyers, reporters, photographers, and fashion fans from all over the world, and I would be strutting out into the middle of them… alone. Anxiety reared it ugly head and I completely forgot what I was doing. The director was not happy. Some how I regained control and got through the rehearsal without further incident.
Subsequent rehearsals went well. The biggest problems were in trying to coordinate what we had to do backstage with the stage hands that were removing scenery and those who were setting up for the next group. As we progressed, the time needed for rehearsal grew shorter until we were left with just a couple of hours of stage time in the evenings. That suited me just fine as I could get in a full day at the messenger service before I had to be at the auditorium. Of course that also meant I was leading a double life: a messenger boy by day, and a teenage girl model by night.
After what had to be the most exhausting week of my life, the time for the big show finally came. It was an evening affair which gave me a fair amount of time to prepare at Tia's place after my day job as well as chow down on a large bowl of soup. That would suffice as dinner, hearty, but easily digested, something that was very important considering all the stress we would be subjected to at the show. A trick of the trade as Tia put it.
After our quick meal, it was off to Tia's bedroom to change and prepare for the show. Unbeknownst to me, Tia had spent the morning with Susan, learning how to apply the base makeup to my face to eliminate all traces of my being a young male. It was a wise precaution, as there was an even higher degree that any flaw in my looks or actions would lead to my being discovered. It was something she reinforced by first handing me an id. badge with Tommie's name and picture on it (mystery solved), then reminding me that I had to maintain my cover at all costs as we made ready to leave her apartment. We grabbed a taxi out front of the building and soon entered into the congested traffic of a typical New York City evening.
Upon arrival at the auditorium we found a much higher level of security then we had previously met with. Not only were our badges checked, but we had to be vouched for by Raul before security would allow us in. Once through security, we headed for a prearranged spot to check in with Miss T. Tia then went off to her assigned dressing spot and I headed for mine. Angela was waiting for me and I wasted no time stripping to my panties. She pulled the first outfit from the staging rack and took it off the hanger. It wasn't the outfit I had started with at the rehearsals, and in looking over the staging rack, I noticed other changes in the order in which the outfits were to be presented to the audience. That meant there would be other changes in the program that I would have to adapt to. Easy for a professional model, but for me, it meant an extra layer of worry.
The new first outfit to be modeled was a maroon mini dress with a cowl neckline and hidden back zipper. The bodice was form fitting and was decorated with a narrow stream of gold sequins, starting at the right shoulder and sweeping across the body, slightly opening and spreading out as it progressed to just above the left side of the waist. It progressed around back to just below the right side of the waist, wrapping around to the front. That’s when the stream exploded open, spreading out to cover two thirds of the skirt front.
The skirt portion of the dress was more than a full circle and without any petticoats, hung with drape like folds but with a considerable degree of flared shape. It was also had a weighted hem, and on a quick turn, would really flair out with light reflecting everywhere off the sequins. It was quite an attention grabber and I could understand why it was moved up to the front of the queue. Matching high heeled shoes, large gold hoop earrings, and at least eight gold bracelets of different widths and designs encircling my left wrist completed the outfit. It was time to check in with Susan and Diane.
My timing was nearly perfect as they were finishing up with another model and I had but a short wait. The model looked in the mirror in front of her and nodded her approval. She got up from the chair as Susan removed the paper circle from around her neck. She moved off to check herself in the full length mirror as I took her place in the chair.
Diane picked up a comb and a pair of scissors and began sculpting my hair into the classic bob. Susan got to work applying makeup to my face. For my part, I settled back into the chair, resigned to accepting being turned into even more of a teen girl than I already was. That is up until Diane came at me with a curling iron with a large roller on the end of it. I saw it as an attack on any last vestiges of my being a male. But even before I could form any protests, Tia's words to me before we left her apartment came rushing to the forefront crushing any protests. I was undercover as a girl and had to act as such at all times even if that meant letting Diane do what ever she wanted with my hair. That would add yet another layer of worry that was slowly building into an anxiety attack.
Susan and Diane finished with me rather quickly since Tia had done most of the prep work. I looked into the mirror and Tommie looked back at me. She still had a shaggy bob cut but with just a little more shape and volume to it, more along the lines of a classic bob but still falling short. Nodding my approval, I got up from the chair as Susan removed the paper circle from around my neck, and moved over to the full length mirror. I checked myself out like any other female model, then moved on down to staging and checked in with the director.
Everything progressed as it had at the final rehearsal and my anxiety was dissipating, that is until I spotted a couple of the models looking through some peepholes at the events taking place on stage. My old nemesis, curiosity, got the better of me and I just had to take a look. What I saw was not just the stage but also a small part of a very large audience. That’s when the reality of what I was about to do smacked me in the face. My anxiety was quickly returning.
Remembering the high stakes involved, I forced control upon my anxiety attack long enough to make my first turn on the runway. It was an experience that can't be adequately described. After waiting in the queue for what seemed like forever, I finally got the signal to enter from stage left. I slipped into a daze as I maneuvered out onto the stage and headed for the runway, passing within inches of models on the return.
Turning onto the runway, I was assaulted by bright lights attacking from every direction. A sea of staring eyes that stretched back into the darkest regions of the hall, watched me intently, looking for any vulnerability as a battle between the announcer and the loud rock background music raged. At the end of the runway, I momentarily struck my signature pose, defiantly giving the enemy my all, as a squad of photographers let loose volley after volley of brilliant flashes as they snapped off photo after photo. I was scared as all get out, but I was determined to not let the enemy know it, and so with a stuck-up kind of stare, I made a hard, forced turn away from them, causing the hem of the dress to fly outward, teasing the enemy, and then arrogantly strutted back to the safety of backstage using a mild version of the crossover step that reeked of feminine sex, amidst the clamor of whistles and applause. It was but the first campaign of many more leading up to the final outcome.
And so it went, with each turn becoming easier to the point where I found my inner self not wanting it to end. But end it had to, and after modeling the last outfit, and returning to my assigned dressing spot for the last time, I changed back into the clothes Tia had lent to me to wear. Looking over at where Tia was supposed to be, I failed to spot her and figured she was making her last turn. I went over to the stage entrance to see if I could intercept her despite the bedlam all around me. She spotted me as she entered backstage and rushed towards me. Tia greeted me with the kind of hug and peck on the cheek that girls in show biz would give each other, at least that was what I was thinking, and then proceeded me to her dressing area.
As we came to her assigned spot, I reach up and unzipped her dress. She pulled off the dress, tossing it aside, and stripped off everything else that wasn't hers. Just as she finished putting on her street clothes, a group of models approached us to ask if we would like to go out on the town and celebrate. Tia was, of course, up for it, and I was intrigued by the idea until reality set in. While I may have looked and acted the part, I didn't think I could talk the part. They would undoubtedly engage me in conversation and my voice would give me away and that would not be good. Acting weary, I whispered "too tired" and shook my head no. Tia tried to prod me into it, but quickly gave up. It would be an adventure that would have to wait for another day.
The models offer got me to thinking. Each time I had been dressed and made-up as a teenage girl, everyone that I came across thought I actually was a teenage girl. The first part of a conundrum that Sam and I had speculated over nearly ten years prior had just been answered: I could fool everyone into thinking I was a girl. In fact, I HAD fooled a whole auditorium of fashion world experts. That, I found exciting. But there was more to it, for there was something deep inside me that loved it all and wanted more. That, I found disturbing. At any rate, it was time for Tommie to fade back into retirement, this time for good. At least that's what I thought at the time.
Things were wrapping up for everyone else as well. All of the models from our small fashion house had finished their last turn on stage and were either changing back into their street clothes or gathering in a prearranged spot. Once the last of the models had joined the group, Miss T put in an appearance. She expressed her satisfaction with everyone's performance and gave her views on the success of the show. At any rate, our part in the show was done and we were free to leave or stay and watch the rest of the show. Miss T officially dismissed all with her thanks. As I started to move off with the others, I caught Miss T's eye. She gave me a slight smile and another of her almost imperceptible nods. A thrill shot through me, and for some reason, found my self wanting more as Tommie. And more there would be, because I couldn't change back into Tom until I was safely inside Tia's apartment.
We exited out the back of the stage into the twilight of a late summers evening that was descending into night. At high northern latitudes, at that time of the year, the sun stays up quite late. There was a crowd of men and women, mostly models and stage hands that were either jostling for position to grab one of the few cabs or walking to the end of the ally to points unknown. That wasn't good, as the longer we stood around, the greater the chance that someone would approach us and startup a conversation, something I didn't want. There was but one other option, and while I didn’t like it, something inside me did and I found myself leaning over to Tia to quietly suggest it to her.
"It's going to be awhile before we can get a cab. What do you say we walk to the nearest subway station and take the train back?"
"What, are you sure? The streets are full of people and the train will be also, you really want to do that?"
"Yeah, I can handle it, I sort of want to."
"Well, well, this IS a surprise, girl!"
Tia shot me a Cheshire cats grin, and then turned to escort me past the crowd and up the ally to a major street. The station wasn't to far off, but was far enough to give me the thrill that something inside me seemed to be craving. But I didn't really enjoy it, as the fear of being found out was forefront in my mind. The foot traffic was heavy and in a hurry to get somewhere, translating into everyone being too preoccupied to even take notice of me as we merged in and moved with the flow. It was both a relief and a disappointment.
We found the station entrance and descended the stairs down to a mildly crowded platform to wait for the next train to arrive. The train arrived in due course and we quickly got on board. It wasn't as crowded as I had expected it to be from the scene up top, but it was still standing room only. Something inside me seemed to want a man to offer me his seat, but none did, hey, it's New York City.
The trip was uneventful except for being bumped and jostled about a bit at each station as passengers got off and on and we did have to change trains once to put us on a route that would take us to the station nearest Tia's apartment, and Mark's loft. I handled it pretty well, and by the time we arrived at our destination, was feeling rather proud of myself. We exited the train onto a station platform that was deserted, lending a feeling of being exposed and vulnerable and we wasted no time in getting out of there. Our feelings didn't change any as we exited the stairwell into an evening that had turned to night. The streets were not that entirely well lit, and we wasted no time grabbing a cab back to Tia's apartment.
Back at the apartment, we went straight to the bedroom and bath. I started to change when Tia stopped me.
"I hope you're not too 'tired' for some fun in the sack."
"I'm up for it, just as soon as I get rid of this female persona."
"Don't, I want you as you are, and I want you now!"
I shall leave the details to the reader's imagination without any hints. The next morning I headed off to work after a quick stop at the loft. I'd already given notice and the boss was sorry to see me leave as he felt I had the makings of a top runner. He added that if I wanted to return next summer, a job would be waiting for me and I would keep my seniority. It was a most tempting offer.
Summer was rapidly coming to an end and there were a couple of things to do before returning to college. One of which was to get Tia a gift as a thank you for all she had done, and to remember me by. Another was that Ed and I wanted to get Mark something in appreciation for letting us stay at his loft. Tia suggested a glass sculpture and knew of a starving artist who was very affordable. We found the perfect piece on display at the communal workshop she shared with other glass artists. It was a large clear crescent with a thick diameter in the middle, tapering and curving to conical points at both ends. There were streaks of color running through it that changed color as the viewing angle changed. It was mounted upright on a simple black Plexiglas pedestal and illuminated from a hidden light under it that gave it a mesmerizing glow. Mark loved it and would later design the loft interior around it.
The day of my departure came before Ed's, as I wanted to visit family before heading back to college. I would fly back as my parents home was on the other side of the country, making it just too far to go by bus, and besides, I could afford it. Tia, Ed, and Mark accompanied me to the airport. It was there that I gave Tia the gift I had come up with. It was a pendent I rough designed and had made by an artist whose studio wasn't far from the loft. I shan't describe the design as it has a symbolism understandable to just Tia and myself, and I'd like it to remain that way. Tia was overwhelmed and suddenly threw her arms around me. She kissed me hard and long. Mark and Ed had to pry us apart so I wouldn't miss my plane. It was a shame that Tia and I were so different and had no basis for a long relationship, still, neither of us really wanted to say goodbye. It had been an incredible adventure and something in me didn't want it to end. Reluctantly I boarded the plane.
I returned home to an end of summer family reunion. Of course I was that year's celebrity having spent my summer in the Big City. Try as I might, I wasn't able to downplay how I spent my time there. I was seen as an adventurer and had to recite tales about my wild experiences as a messenger. Of course all the stories were true, it was just that most of them happened to someone else; I sort of left that part out. And then there was the money, and how I may have made enough to pay for my tuition and housing for the rest of my stay at the small university I was attending. Mom didn't seem to be buying it. She had her doubts that anyone could make so much as a "delivery boy" as she put it. I tried to explain the differences and the hazards involved, but she just replied with "If you say so dear." and let it drop.
Things didn't change any up to or during the big feast. It was afterwards that things took a left turn. I was helping Dad clean up the grill and took the meat tray and tools to the kitchen. Half of the women folk were washing and putting away the dishes and leftovers. The other half, the ones who had prepared the dinner, were in the living room and I decided to look in before going back outside. They were chatting and flipping through woman's magazines. My thirteen-year-old cousin was particularly excited over some fashion news magazine that was hot off the press. She was gazing over a multi page center spread of some recent fashion show. Suddenly a chill ran up my spine as I realized that it was the very show that I had been in. Was I in any of those photos? If so, could anybody recognize me? I didn't dare show any interest, I would have to wait until later when no one was around to see if there was any damming evidence.
My opportunity came toward sunset. The entire family had collected outside, with the children roasting marshmallows and the adults chatting. Mom had sent me into the house on an errand. Once inside, I went straight to the living room and found my cousin's magazine. I quickly flipped through to the multi page center spread and scrutinize each photo. There were two that I was in, but they were taken at distance and not even I could recognize me, it was the outfits that were recognizable. I was safe.
Then, for some reason I can't explain, I started to flip through the rest of the magazine. It was toward the back when I suddenly stopped and stirred in disbelief. It was a full-page ad for a new line of teenage girl's clothing. Stirring down at me was a boyish teenage girl with her hair in a classic bob with a bit of sass, wearing a yellow cowl neck sheath with a chain belt low on the hips and white vinyl boots. It was me. But it got worse, for arched under the upper left corner and undulating across the top in bold hippie styled lettering of the day, was the new lines name: "Tommie Girl".
"You make a cute girl, dear."
It was Mom, and the second part of that decade old conundrum had just been confirmed. I will leave the ensuing discussion to the reader's imagination.
INTRODUCTION
This is the third of four interrelated recollections by a man in the late summer of life, recalling the events of some unusual summers, and the members of the female persuasion who made them so unusual and worth remembering.
My Summer In Europe
By: Zylux
The time was the early seventies and I had some how graduated from collage. I was about to embark on a career as a stockbroker but wanted to establish contacts in the European exchanges first. My interest in investing had come about a few years prior when I had returned from a summer working in New York City with a hefty bank account. I was looking for something that would give me a better return than a bank's saving account. I figured I could put half of it at risk and still be able to pay the rent on my off campus housing. I had also secured an after school job, so paying for collage wouldn't be at much of a risk either. To that end, I enrolled in classes on economics, types of equities, and the stock market. I was quickly hooked.
One of my professors took notice of my newfound enthusiasm and took me under his wing. With his mentoring, I researched a number of investment possibilities and decided on one that had promise of a fair return but was relatively safe. I don't think I shall ever forget that moment when my small investment paid off just as my research said it would. That's when I decided on a career as a stockbroker, and my thirst for knowledge accelerated. I quickly learned all that was available on the workings of the US markets. But I knew that if I wanted to make it as a trusted advisor and not an order writer, I needed an edge, I needed something more.
The equities market is world wide and complexly interconnected. Knowledge of how other markets worked and interacted with the US market along with contacts in those markets could give me the edge I needed. I could be ahead of changing events helping my clients make or save money. But I needed to get inside those markets and I had an idea as to how.
With the help of my professor, I arranged interviews with officials of major investment firms at three of Europe's major exchanges. I decided to travel by cruise ship, as I wanted time to study up on the three exchanges, figuring that I could pack a lot more learning into the short time I would have at each exchange if I came prepared. My strategy would prove invaluable and would bring to light several questions that I might not have thought of during the interviews. With my plan of attack in place, and a newly acquired passport in hand, it was time to pack and go.
The plane was late coming into the airport in New York City, but I still had enough time to get to the dock and board the ship. While the cab ride to the dock was uneventful, the scene at the ship was a different story. It was something right out of a vintage Hollywood movie. There was confetti and streamers floating down from the upper decks, which were lined with bunting that reflected the British ownership of the cruse line. The dock was crowded with people shouting and waving at the ship, and everyone on board was waving and shouting back. Who knew that this actually still happened in real life? Well, on this occasion it did anyway.
Carrying a suitcase in each hand, I checked in with the officer at the gangplank and boarded. Finding my cabin was no problem as I had committed a layout of the ship to memory. Once in my cabin, I unpacked my two suitcases and quickly squared away my personal effects, picked up one of the books I brought and headed back up on deck.
The bedlam on deck hadn't waned, but that wouldn't last long, as the ship was about to get underway. I went in search of a secluded and quite spot to read my book. I found an ideal place on the other side of the ship away from the dock and settled into a deck chair. Some time after that the mooring lines were cast off and the ship was towed out of its berth and released to the open sea. The bedlam quickly dissipated.
Late in the afternoon the peace and quit was broken when a steward came round, striking a small bell with an even smaller hammer, announcing the first call to dinner. I closed my book and headed for my cabin to change into more formal attire. Back then, dinner on board a cruise ship was still an event and people dressed accordingly. I arrived at the dinning hall only to find that all of the small tables for one or two persons were taken. That left just the larger group tables. It looked like I would have to wait for the next call. I started to move towards the bar when an elderly English couple intercepted me.
"I say there young man, can't find a table, what?"
"I guess I took too long in getting here. It has filled up far faster than I had anticipated."
"So it has, so it has. First cruise I'll wager, ah yes, I thought so. Never you mind, you'll catch on to how things work. Now, you just come and join our group, plenty of room, the more the merrier."
"That's most kind of you sir, but…"
"Just call me Major, served in the India Corps, you know. And this is my dear wife, Penelope, (we're not too big on formality, doesn't make for good friends, you know) and you are…?"
"Tom, but I wouldn't want to intrude on you and your friends."
"Friends? Don't know a thing about any of them yet, just met them today. Meeting new people is what a cruise is all about. So do come along."
I followed the Major and his wife to a large table in the center of the hall. The Major seated his wife, then started looking around and waving to others, who came to join us. With the exception of a young couple from India and an American couple, the guests were middle-aged British couples. As we started to introduce ourselves, three single English women my age came to join us. My attention quickly focused on one in particular.
Her name was Barbara, a stunning and stately brunet, with an air of British formality. Her hair was short and styled in a formal manner that said she had social status. That was also reflected in her choice of attire for the evening, a tight emerald green dress that descended to her ankles with a slit up the left side to the knee. It had a low sweetheart neckline that revealed a more ample bosom than the majority of American women have. She wore a simple, slender emerald necklace that mimicked the neckline. The overall look was sexy, but with class. She was traveling with several girl friends, two of which had accepted the Major's invitation to dinner.
As to the Major, he was a real gem. His speech, mannerisms, and looks were something I thought only existed in mystery novels. His wife was more subdued, but easily held her own in any discussion, and together they were unbeatable at getting conversation among so many strangers started. One by one we were all prodded into reviling our reasons for being on a cruise ship. When my turn came, I touch on my pending career as a stockbroker, but wanting to study in Europe first, and using the time afforded by a cruise to better prepare myself. I had hoped that my drive and ambition would impress Barbara, but it didn't seem to.
As the dinner progressed, everyone dropped their shyness and talked more freely about themselves. It was a mixed bag, for while I was able to gain much desired information about Barbara, it also became clear that she was a woman of means and social status and consequently, way out of my league. It also became apparent that she was looking to put some excitement and adventure into her life. Let's face it, those are not the qualities that come to mind when one thinks of a stockbroker. I realized that I was facing a hopeless cause and decided to retire for the evening. I made up a story that I was expecting a communique from Paris, excused myself, and wished everyone a good night.
The next day as I made my way to lunch, I came across Barbara and her friends in an open part of the main deck. She spotted me and called me over. She then introduced me to her friends that I hadn’t already met. As we talked she seemed to take more interest in me. That didn’t go unnoticed by a group of four young men standing near by, who were dressed virtually identical, right down to the pullover sweater and school tie. They barged in on the conversation and collectively crowded me out. I got the distinct impression that they didn't like someone of my lowly stature talking with Barbara. Not wanting to create a scene in front of Barbara and her friends, I opt to excuse myself and move on. Barbara surprised me with a parting flirt.
"See you at the Major's table tonight, Tom?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
The gang of four shot me a look that said they did not approve but I didn't care as they couldn't do anything about it, having not been invited. After lunch, I continued my studies in what had become my favorite spot on deck until dinner time. I returned to my cabin to change clothes then headed for the dining hall for dinner with the Major and his wife. I spotted them in the center of the room along with some new people they had gotten to join the group. The evening’s conversation for the most part revolved around the new comers, which suited me just fine. Our evening eventually came to an end without any apparent change in Barbara's interest in me. We split up and I headed back to my cabin. I tried to get in some reading but my mind kept drifting to thoughts of Barbara. Eventually, I gave up and turned in.
The following day started out ominously, as a storm was racing down upon us. The morning went as usual, but by lunch the storm had nearly caught up with us. Spending the rest of the day on deck was out of the question. As I made my way to my cabin, I came out to the open area on the main deck. The four men from the day before happened to be standing off to the side talking to a couple of Barbara's friends. They spotted me and moved to block my path. Their leader let me know that they didn’t like my interest in Barbara and said so in more words than necessary, ending with a veiled threat.
"I'll leave you with a word of advice: life is a limousine, there’s a front seat, a back seat, and a window in between. You just stick to driving and we’ll tell you where to go."
"I can tell you where to go but you wouldn’t like it."
"Don't get smart with me. You just associate with your own kind."
"Who Barbara chooses to associate with is up to her, not you. If you have a problem with that, then I suggest that you take up you objections with Barbara."
He didn't like that, and with one hand grabbed me by the front of my shirt. I didn't wait to find out what he intended. Before he could blink, I had applied a judo thumb squeeze to his offending hand. Pain shot across his face and he grudgingly let go. Before his buddies could join in the assault, one of the ship's officers and a couple of deck hands came running up from just out of my attackers view. I released my adversary, but he renewed his attack, this time with both hands. The officer ordered him to release me. I thanked the officer, made my apologies for the disturbance, and said to him that if there was nothing further then I would continue my journey, hopefully unhindered. The officer had seen enough to know that the altercation was not of my doing and allowed me to leave. As I departed, I glanced up at an overhanging deck and spotted Barbara among the onlookers. She looked furious and was staring at the four men. Man, were they going to catch it. The thought of what Barbara would say to those four overstuffed shirts gave me an almost perverted pleasure as I worked my back to my cabin. But that didn't last long as the storm chose that point in time to dampen my pleasures.
That evening I decided not to join the Majors group. I didn't want to cause Barbara any more trouble, and besides, we didn't have anything going between us. We were just part of an informal dinner group, nothing more. I entered the dinning hall and took a small out of the way table. I quickly finished my meal and retreated back to my cabin by the route that best afforded cover from the storm and hit the books.
The following day, the halfway point in our trip was reached with the storm still in command, but by late afternoon it had moved past us and the sun was busy drying everything up. It was an opportunity to get in some sun, sans books as I had had enough reading for a while. As I made my way to my usual spot on deck, I came across Barbara and her girl friends seated by a folding tray set up in front of Barbara. On the tray was a deck of playing cards arranged in some sort of a solitaire pattern. She shot me a seductive look and called out to me.
"I say, Tom, would you care to take the challenge?"
"What challenge would that be?"
"You have to solve this puzzle in fewer moves than I did to win. Think you're up to it?"
"I don't know yet. I'm not familiar with this game, how does one play?"
"The game is a new version of eight's off called Baker's version. Are you acquainted with eight's off? Oh, I see your not. No matter, the play is simplicity in and of itself. Please, do have a seat while I explain."
I took the only available chair, which just happened to be in front of the table, directly across from Barbara. She quickly went over the rules and was right, it was a simple game. It appeared to be a forerunner of the solitaire game called free cell that’s so popular at the time of this writing. She had added a twist by making it a competition.
"That is simple. Okay, I'll take on your challenge."
"Very good. Now this is the number of moves you have to beat."
I looked over the layout of the cards and plotted my attack. The play proceeded smoothly, with only a couple of rough spots that were solved without much difficulty. In fact it was going too easy, and I was becoming suspicious. My suspicions were reinforced as I neared the end of the game. Barbara's friends around us began to whisper to each other. I was only able to catch bits and pieces, things like: "really going…" and "…with HIM?" I was being setup, but for what?
I decided on a new strategy, I would lose. The only question was how to lose without being obvious. The solution was in the cards. There were two lines of play that would bring the game to a successful end. By playing fast, I could legitimately take the obvious but slightly longer line and lose to Barbara by just one move. I went for it. One of Barbara's friends was the first to respond.
"Too bad, you got a little careless there at the end and it's going to cost you the match. Pity, as you were doing so well."
"What, wait, what did I do? Oh damn, I meant to unblock the other column first… Barbara, can I get another try at it or maybe a rematch?"
"I'm afraid Trudy's right, you lose, and that means… you're… MINE."
Barbara rose from her chair and ran her fingers up my arm, to my neck, and up under my chin. She applied gentle upward pressure, and stared down at me authoritatively with a bit of seduction.
"Come."
"Come? Come where? What, um, what do you…?"
"To my cabin, I will have you now!"
Her friends let go with a barrage of oohs, ahs, hoots and hollers, much to my embarrassment. Encouraged by her fingers under my chin, I rose from my chair and let her lead me away. Barbara took her fingers from my chin and slipped her arm around mine. As she led me away, I spotted the gang of four. They had witnessed the proceeding from a nearby vantage point along the railing. She steered me toward them, and as we passed close by them, she snuggled up against me. They stood there staring at us in disbelief, and that's all they did. I guessed that Barbara had put the fear in them but good.
In short order we came to her cabin. The gang of four had followed us, stopping to watch us from the end of the hallway. She unlocked and opened the door, then, grabbing me with both hands, roughly pulled me inside. She hit the door with a sideways thrust of her hip causing it to loudly slam shut. With very deliberate moves, she locked and chained the door all the while staring lustfully at me. Suddenly, she burst out in suppressed laughter. I quickly caught on. It was the gang of four that was being setup, not me.
"That was brilliant, I mean, the look on their faces, it was priceless."
"The look on their faces? You should have seen the look on your face."
"Well, yeah, gees, you could've let me in on the joke. You scared the living… daylights, out of me. So, how long do we wait before reemerging?"
"I'll let you know. First, I think we need to find a suitable penalty for throwing the game."
"What, no, I didn't throw the game. I just played too fast and got careless, that's all."
"Nice try, but I saw you listening to the whispering around us and I noticed your becoming suspicious about you wining. Of course you've now add lying to your offense, so the penalty is going to have to be increased accordingly. Let's see if there's something in the ships social calendar. Ah, here we go. You can be my entry in the ships beauty contest."
"Beauty, contest?"
"Yes, it says here that wives and girlfriends can dress and makeup their man as a woman and enter him in the ships beauty contest. It sounds like it would be good for a couple of laughs."
"WHAT? There is no way I'm going to do that. And you're nuts if you think you can sweet talk me into it, so don't even try."
"What's the big deal? There's no harm intended and everybody has a good laugh and a good time."
"It must be a British thing and if it's all the same, I'll pass on it. Besides, what if those four rectal orifices get wind of it? Man, they would have a field day with that, and we still have half a cruse to go."
"You could be right there. I guess I'll just have to put it on hold, to be called up at a later time."
"That doesn't sound much better but I guess I'll have to take it. So, what shall we do now?"
"Take off your clothes."
"What? Um, you're starting to scare me again."
"You heard me. You seem to be forgetting, that for the time being, you are mine and I will have you when I want, and the 'when' is now. So, I say again, take off your clothes."
"Wow, I never figured you to be 'that kind' of a woman."
"Well, I'm not really. You see, my friends dared me to put some excitement in my life by having sex with a stranger."
"That's rather risky, don't you think?"
"Yes, of course. That's one of the reasons why I chose to do it with you. I felt that I would be fairly safe even with you doing what you wanted with me."
"Wait, what I wanted?"
"Well, yes, after all, the original plan was for you to win and I was to be yours. Your intentionally losing the game has forced the formulation of a new plan, one with me in charge, and I think I rather like it over the original plan."
"Look, you are a very attractive and desirable woman, and I do want to sleep with you. But I'd prefer we got to know each other a whole lot better before becoming so, intimate."
"Yes, well, that doesn't fit very well with the concept of sex with a stranger, does it?"
"I wouldn't think so, no."
"Right, shall we have it off then?"
A British phrase I guessed to mean sex and nothing more. We both stripped off our clothes and got onto the bed. I felt a little excited, and a lot embarrassed, at being naked with a woman I didn't really know. That quickly changed as we got more and more into it. It also became evident that Barbara had had a fairly ordinary sex life, something I could change thanks to an education I received a few years prior from a young woman during an unusual summer vacation. Even though I was Barbara's and had to submit to what she wanted, I was able to introduce a few things that I thought she might want to explore, and she did.
Our session in the sack lasted a lot longer then either of us anticipated. One look at the clock showed that the first call to dinner had pasted and the second call would soon be approaching. I got dressed and while Barbara was getting dressed for dinner, I would return to my cabin to change into formal attire for dinner as well.
I finished getting ready and went to pick up Barbara. Upon reaching her cabin, I gently knocked on the door. The door opened reveling Barbara, she was simply stunning. She stood framed by the doorway in a slim fitting, dark blue satin gown with a plunging neckline. It was floor length on the sides and longer in the back, giving the effect of a very short train behind her. The front hem came down to her ankle, revealing a pair of matching high heel pumps. In her hand was a matching clutch purse. A single strand pearl necklace with matching earrings completed the elegant and sophisticated look. She took my offered arm and we made our way to the dinning hall.
We found a table for two on the far edge of the dance floor. The waiter took our orders and moved on to another table. Barbara was listening to the band and watching some couples dancing. She looked at me playfully and tilted her head toward the dancers. I got the distinct impression that she wanted to dance. There was a wee bit of a problem.
"I'd ask you to dance but I'm not very good at it. I don't think you'd enjoy it."
"I would love the opportunity to teach you something, especially after what you just taught me. I must admit that I'm rather curious as to how one so young could have acquired such advanced love making skills. Perhaps there's a story you can regale me with, without breaking any personal confidences of course, after our dinner comes. For now, let's dance."
Barbara proved to be an excellent dancer and a rather good teacher as well. I improved steadily throughout the evening and surmised that by the end of the cruse, I could very well become just as good a dancer. It was a valuable social skill and well worth pursuing. At the very least, it would give me a good reason to continue seeing Barbara.
During dinner I did touch upon how I acquired my sex education. I mentioned to Barbara that it was a wild young fashion model she could thank. Naturally, I left out the real reason I had been seeing her. Of course I then had to explain how an average, conservative guy could score a free spirit model. That meant relating how I was drafted into modeling at a small fashion house, leaving out exactly what I was modeling while employed there. Before Barbara could pin me down and ask me some questions that I didn't want to have to answer, I quickly got into how I came to be there in the first place. The ploy worked as she became fascinated and wanted to hear of my hair-raising tales from my time in the messenger service.
"Well, it would seem that there's a lot more to you than meets the eye. Indeed, you have led a far more adventurous life for one just out of collage then I could have ever imagined. I find you to be more and more fascinating with each passing minute, and I do believe I've taken a shine to you as well, good sir."
"Cute, but I hardly think that a few weeks out of one summer… I see now, your teasing me, how do you say, having a bit of a jolly? It would seem that there's more to you than meets the eye as well, and I like it."
"Then perhaps I can get you to escort me to my cabin, kind sir."
"It would be my pleasure, fair lady."
We rose from the table and I offered Barbara my arm. She made a bit of a curtsy and with a big smile, put her arm in mine. We started off toward her cabin but had only taken a dozen steps before we both broke out laughing; we just couldn't hold it in. Of course everyone around us thought we were drunk, and in a sense I was, for I was really becoming intoxicated with her charm. We reached Barbara's cabin in due course. She unlocked the door and motioned me in. She closed and secured the door, then embraced and kissed me hard. I moved my hand up her back until I found the zipper of her dress. I slowly pulled it down as we kissed even more deeply. When the zipper bottomed out, she backed away from me and started to remove her dress. I began to undress as well. When I got to my shorts, she stopped me, then picked up the dress by the hem and came at me.
"Whoa, just a minute, what are you doing?"
"Well, you talked me out of entering you in the ships beauty contest, so I’ve decided to have a private contest here."
"If it's all the same, I'll pass on this one as well."
"You can forget that as you are still mine remember?"
"So, just how long am I yours?"
"I'll let you know. Now put your arms out."
Normally, I would have turned tail and gotten out of there, writing her off in the process. But something in the back of my mind kept telling me that this was a test, perhaps for some event that would take place after the cruise. It was a slim chance to continue seeing Barbara, and I took it. I submitted with a smile and a hint of a bow.
I knew the routine, and in short order was standing before Barbara in her dress and high-heeled shoes. Surprisingly, her dress fit me fairly well, well enough to wake up feelings inside me that I had experience a couple of years earlier and thought I had buried for good. She picked up her hairbrush, but after looking over my hair, put it back down. My hair was just too short to do anything with. She pulled open a drawer and brought out what looked like a hatbox. Inside was a short black wig that was puffed up a bit in the upper back with a bit of curl all over giving it an overall sophisticated look to it. She fitted it in place on my head and then fussed with it a bit. She removed her necklace and fastened it around my neck. Her earrings turned out to be of the clip-on type and she transferred them to my ears. Next came bright red lipstick, some heavy makeup around the eyes, and rouge on the cheeks. I had the feeling that things were not going well, and boy was I right. The end result came off as a parody of a certain 50's TV comic.
"This is horrid, what's with the clown makeup?"
"It's not so bad, besides it's supposed to be like that."
"Well, harmless fun or not, you would not get me to strut around on stage like this."
"What, you're so stuffy that you can't let your hair down and suffer a little embarrassment?"
"I'm just saying that I might, and I do mean might, be more willing to wear a costume and participate in a little more public way as long as it doesn't mean having to make a complete spectacle of myself for the sole amusement of others."
I must have passed the test for Barbara took a couple of very sultry steps toward me. She slid her arms around my waist and drew me tightly to her. We kissed deeply. She moved one hand to the wig and pulled it off. We broke the kiss and she reached for some tissues. She used them to remove the bulk of the makeup. She slipped her hands behind my neck and unhooked the necklace. She set it on top of the dresser next to us as I pulled off the earrings, adding them to the necklace. Barbara then took me back in her arms and kissed me once again. I could feel her slide her hand up my back and take hold of the zipper. She slowly pulled it down sending a wave of ecstasy through me. I picked her up in my arms and carried her to the bed. I placed her on the bed with a little bit of a toss which she seem to enjoy. Barbara rolled onto her side propping up her head with her right hand. She stared up at me seductively capturing my full attention as I peeled off the dress and shoes before joining her on the bed. Both of us were worn out from our earlier session in bed as well as from all the dancing. We engaged in some intense snuggling for a bit, ending with an ordinary round of intimacy before drifting off to sleep snuggled together with my arm holding her to me.
The next morning, I rose before Barbara and cleaned off the last remains of that horrid makeup job. I got dressed and then looked in on Barbara. She stirred a bit and I gently kissed her awake.
"You ready for some breakfast?"
"You go ahead. I'm going to sleep in a little while longer."
I went back to my cabin to change into something more suitable for breakfast, and then headed for the dinning hall. Over breakfast I reflected on the previous day (and night). It had been wondrous, and I didn't want it to stop. I guess Barbara didn't either, for we continued to see each other for the rest of the cruise. Our little shipboard fling was quickly evolving into much more.
On the eighth day of our cruise we came in sight of the UK. The ship sailed up the English Channel into the Strait of Dover. It was an amazing sight with France on the right and England on the left. Yet another reason to be glad I had taken the ship instead of the plane. At the end of the channel, the ship rounded the point and headed for the mouth of the Thames. Barbara and I had moved to the bow. There we had the best view of our trip up the river to the berth in London with Barbara pointing out points of interest. It was a magical moment I didn't want to end, but end it did when the ship reached its destination. We each returned to our cabins to gather up our luggage and disembark. We were to meet up for one last time at a prearranged spot on the dock. I got to the spot ahead of Barbara, and soon spotted her coming down the gang plank.
Sadly, it was time to say goodbye to Barbara. For days, I had been composing in my mind what I would say to her, expressing my feelings, and saying just how much I would like to continue seeing her. But I didn't get the chance as Barbara beat me to it.
"This coming Saturday there's a costume party at Lord W____’s manor that I and a guest have been invited to. It's a very popular and lavish party and hard to get an invite to. It's also a little on the unusual side and takes a special kind of person to engage in the evenings festivities. I think you would be perfect and would like very much for you to be my guest."
"Well, it sounds intriguing and possibly fun. I would be happy to attend with you."
"Splendid, now you'll need to read this book before the party."
She pulled a book from her shoulder bag and handed it to me.
"Pride and Prejudice?"
"Right, you see, it's a theme party based on this book. You will need to be familiar with all the main characters so you can interact with everyone else and discuss the book."
"Sounds rather high brow and boring, I would rather explore the sights of London with you."
"We may be able to do that afterwards, and besides, I think you will find that it won't be your usual run of the mill literary discussion group. Well, that is if you can peel off your stuffy exterior and let yourself go."
"That sounds like your making yet another challenge."
"I am, think you're up to it?"
"Yeah, and you're on."
"Splendid, then I'll see you Saturday afternoon. Here's my phone number. I have a cottage well outside of London and the train is the best way to get there. I will pick you up at the station. Oh, one last thing, it's an overnight affair so pack accordingly. May things go well for you at the London Exchange."
Barbara gave me a quick kiss and then turned and walked away. She gave me something to look at as she did so. I couldn't help thinking that with a little more hip action, she could be a fashion model. I watched Barbara disappear from sight, no longer providing me with a reason to stand around. The hotel I was to stay at had a shuttle service, so I made my way to the pickup point. I got on board the hotel's van and took a seat in the first passenger row. While we waited for other hotel guests, I struck up a conversation with the driver.
"You wouldn’t happen to know how close the London Exchange is to the hotel, by any chance."
"Sure do gov'ner, it’s just a couple of blocks. Tell ya what; I’ll take a little detour up Threadneedle Street on the way to the hotel and point it out."
"Most kind, but I wouldn’t want to be any trouble."
"No trouble a 'tall gov'ner. It’s a tourist spot along with the Bank of England and the Baltic exchange which we’ll be a passin’ as well."
He turned out to be right, and it would be an easy walk for me. At the hotel I checked in and got squared away in my room. A walk around the area and a light dinner at a small restaurant pretty much completed the day.
Morning came by way of a wake up phone call. I got dressed, stuck a note pad and pen in my coat pocket, picked up a paper bag with twine handles containing a heavy box, and headed down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. With breakfast out of the way, I exited the hotel and walked along a couple of very busy streets to the London Exchange.
The Exchange was an impressive and stately old building just reeking of tradition. Inside, I checked in with security and was greeted by my host. Mr. C_____ was everything I had imagined an English financier would be like, right down to the gold watch chain looping out of his vest pocket. In his oak-paneled office, I presented him with the paper bag I had carried with me. It contained a gift, a small bronze copy of the bull and bear statue that, at that time, stood in front of the Lunch Club at the New York exchange. He seemed genuinely pleased and placed it in a prominent spot on his desk.
Mr. C_____ gave me an overview of the market workings, and then took me to a balcony overlooking the trading floor where we waited for the opening bell. When the bell rang the place erupted in what looked like chaos, but was actually a well-structured system as my host pointed out. We then moved down to the floor where Mr. C_____ walked me through how trades were actually made between posts. It was most informative, but lunch would prove to be even more so.
Mr. C_____ insisted on taking me to lunch. There he introduced me to several of the top traders from the firm he was associated with. They freely explained the inner workings of the market and how seemingly unrelated events can combine to influence specific parts. Forget theory, this was how things really worked.
After lunch my host placed me in the care of Jack, one of the top traders on the floor. Jack gave me hands on in actual trades. He also showed me how their news service worked and the extent of their information gathering network. It would be a valuable resource with the right contacts.
At market end, Mr. C_____ came down and joined me and a group of traders and together we headed for a local pub. It was a typical English pub filled with the friendliest people one could ask for. The first and last rounds were on me, and by the time everyone was ready to head home, I had established the contacts I would need to give me an edge in the US market. I returned to the hotel, where I had dinner and then retired to my room. There, my thoughts turned to Barbara, and I pulled out the book she had given me. Great, another book to read. It wasn’t much to my liking and being tired, I found myself drifting off to sleep after several chapters. I would have to finish the book the next day if I wanted to be ready for Saturday.
Saturday arrived with a threat of rain, but not even that could dampen my spirits. After breakfast, I rearranged my suitcases, transferring everything I would need for the trip into one and the rest into the other which I would leave at Barbara’s. I checked out of the hotel and exited onto the street. I then hailed a cab and took it to the railway station. Barbara's note listed which trains would get me there. I chose one that was the most convenient and purchased a ticket. I then called Barbara and let her know which train I would arrive on. She seemed anxious to see me, too anxious. I had flashbacks to similar events in my past and hoped things would turnout differently.
As the train pulled into the station, I spotted Barbara standing on the platform, almost alone. She looked like someone out of a 40's movie. She wore a gray, calf length hound's-tooth pencil skirt, with a matching form fitting, double breasted jacket with attached self belt. On her head was a matching pillbox hat trimmed with a black ribbon. Around her neck was an ivory scarf, tied in an ascot. She was holding a gray purse with both of her gray gloved hands in front of her. The only thing missing was escaping steam from a locomotive’s cylinder wafting up around her. The male passengers around me spotted Barbara as well, and the ones not traveling with their better half crowed the windows. They were making some, interesting, comments. I thought of responding, but decided to let things slide.
I stepped down off the train and quickly found myself in Barbara's out stretched arms. We hugged and kissed, and then she put her arm in mine and started to lead me off. I could feel the stares of envy from the guys on the train as we left the platform, headed for the parking area where her car awaited us.
Barbara's car was a vintage, red MG Midget convertible with cream interior, one sweet little car. In spite of the threat of rain, the top was down. Barbara opened the boot and I stowed the suitcase I was taking to the party on top of her suitcase. I guessed that she had decided to go straight to the party. The suitcase I thought I would be leaving at Barbara’s was strapped to the boot’s lid. We got in the car and Barbara blasted out of the parking area, trailing a cloud of dust and flying gravel.
She stuck to the country roads, which seemed to be barely a lane and a half wide at best. The scenery was spectacular, or at least what wasn't a blur, for we were traveling at what seemed like high velocity and many a curve was blind. It was a white-knuckle ride all the way.
After what was probably a couple hours, Barbara suddenly hit the brakes and pulled a hard right through a brick archway into a country estate. We had arrived at our destination, and it was a good thing, for it had started to rain.
The grounds were immaculate, dominated by a huge lawn with a large fountain in the middle. The road was flanked by tall, sculpted hedges that looked to be hundreds of years old, and led to a formal English garden that begged to be explored. Just past the garden was an enormous, stone block house perched atop a knoll that overlooked the countryside for miles. It was a real English manor in the grand style. We came to an abrupt halt at the entrance.
A pair of valets opened the car doors for us. Barbara gave the car keys to one of the valets who opened the boot. The other valet removed the luggage and placed it next to the door. The suitcase I didn’t need was left in the boot. The valet with the keys got in the car and drove it off out of sight. Probably best, as it was covered in dust and mud, although that seemed to be fitting for the little MG. The butler greeted us at the door calling Barbara by name.
"Ah, Miss L_____, so good of you to join us once again. I have personally seen to it that the accommodations are as you requested."
"Thank you Brentwood, and may I present my guest, Thomas A_____."
"Welcome Sir, I will be at your service during you’re stay with us. If the two of you will follow me, I will show you to your room."
Brentwood picked up our luggage and led us inside. The receiving hall was as big as a small house and reeked of history. It was filled with antiques and art objects from the far corners of the British Empire. We were led up an old ornate, English oak, staircase to a room just off the main upstairs hallway. It was a cozy room with a Victorian feel to it. The dominating feature was a huge four poster canopy bed with curtains all the way around it. Brentwood showed us a few features of the room and then prepared to depart.
"Will you require anything more, Sir, Madam?"
"No, I can't think of anything, how about you Barbara."
"No, not a thing. Thank you Brentwood."
"Very good then, I will inform His Lordship of your arrival. I will return with your costumes after the last of the guests have arrived."
"Ah, Brentwood, how is it determined who receives which costume?"
"It is the luck of the draw Sir, an idea of His Lordship’s. He feels that it adds a bit more fun to the festivities. I do hope you will enjoy the evening. Sir, Madam."
Brentwood left us closing the door behind him. "Luck of the draw" I had the impression that I had once again been setup. I turned to Barbara who was trying to look innocent but just couldn't hide the makings of a Cheshire cat’s grin. That grin had never bode well for me and I was starting to despise it.
"Let me guess, there's a good chance that I could end up with a female character, and you knew it when you roped me into this."
"Yes and, ooooh yes."
"So, that little dress up session in your cabin onboard the ship, was to see if I could participate in this party and not screw up any possible future invites for you."
"Right again."
"OK, just what did I do to you to deserve this horrid treatment?"
“Oh, I don't think you're being treat so bad, you're getting off rather well considering that insult you made back when we first had it off."
"What insult? I don't remember having insulted you, and if I somehow did, I certainly didn't mean to. Perhaps there was a misunderstanding in the translation from American to English."
"Hmmm, I'll ignore that one for now. Let me refresh your memory, does, 'it must be a British thing' bring anything to mind?"
"Ah yes, I can explain that. It seems that every time I watch an imported British show, someone usually ends up in drag and making a spectacle of himself, and there we were, on a British cruse ship, with you going on about a drag contest. So, what was I to think? Anyway, I didn't mean anything by it. I don't suppose there is anyway I can get out of this?"
"None, you'll just have to tough it out. Besides, there is a chance that you won't draw a female part. Although, considering the book chosen, I'm afraid that the odds just aren’t in your favor. Never the less, it should be a fun evening, at least for me anyway."
"Nice, now, what's up with one room? We're not married you know."
"No, but I have become rather accustomed to falling asleep in your embrace. As for now, I do believe we have time for what you Americans call necking."
I wasn't about to argue with that. We sat down on the edge of the bed and started kissing. We had gotten pretty well into it when there came a rather stately knock upon the door. We disengaged and got up from the bed. Barbara straightened herself out as I walked to the door. It was Brentwood with two large flat boxes.
"Sir, Madam, your costumes. Oh, and trading is not allowed Sir."
"Thank you Brentwood. We wouldn't think of trading, it simply wouldn't be in the spirit of the evening."
"Very good Sir, I'm sure that His Lordship will be pleased. If you will excuse me."
Brentwood departed pushing a cart piled with many more large flat boxes. I brought the boxes to the bed and pushed the one with Barbara’s name taped to it towards her. I was afraid to open mine, but curiosity, as always, got the better of me. The first thing to greet me was a name tag on which was written in calligraphy, Miss Webbs. I couldn’t recall the name as I had concentrated on the main characters while reading the book. I figured that the discussions would be centered on the major characters so not being able to remember who I was supposed to be shouldn’t be a problem.
The next item to catch my attention was, of course, the dress. I removed it from the box holding it by the shoulders. It was pale green in color and made of a very light weight material with tiny white embroidered flowers over it. The neckline, trimmed in small white lace, was square and wide, creating a one inch strap between it and the short, slightly puffed sleeves. The empire waist was accented with a pencil thin dark green ribbon tied in a small bow in the center. The skirt was long and I guessed that it would be ankle length on me. All in all, it looked more like a nightgown then something to wear to a formal party. Strangely, I had feelings of disappointment.
Barbara fared better. She had drawn a more prominent character, Miss Charlotte Lucas. Her dress was nearly the same except that it was blue with thin vertical white stripes and a bit more ornate. The empire waist had an attached half inch wide white ribbon to be tied in the back.
We helped each other put on our costumes. Barbara looked me over and then motioned me to a chair. From her suitcase she produced a makeup kit. I gave her a stern look but she reassured me that it wasn’t going to be like before and it wasn’t. This time the look was minimal, just enough to soften the male look and add a few female touches. She placed the supplied wig on my head. It was styled in a manor appropriate to the time depicted in the book. From the side of the forehead to back behind the ears were ringlets hanging down, the rest of the hair was pulled back in an elaborate bun, trimmed in lace and faux pearls. Barbara donned a similarly styled wig. We were all set and exited the room.
Stepping out into the hallway looking the way I did was really difficult. This wasn’t like the last time I was dressed in a public setting. At that time I had been made up to pass as a teenage girl, this time I was clearly a man dressed in a costume one would usually find being worn by a woman. Barbara had taken my arm and was gently leading me down the hall and down the stairs. With her encouragement we entered the ballroom.
The ballroom was a magnificent sight for the eyes. It was everything I had ever seen in the movies and pictures and then some. It had been decorated to reflect the book’s 1796-1813 setting. In one corner, there was a man sitting at a pianoforte, playing classical works of that era. Barbara had been right; this was indeed going to be a lavish affair.
We joined a group of other guests. At first I was teased but that quickly turned into curiosity. Many were surprised at just how well I was accepting having to portray a woman character, seeing as how I had never attended this kind of party before. Soon afterward the conversation fell in line with the intention of the party. Any awkwardness I had been feeling was quickly melting away. Barbara, seeing that I was starting to fit in, figured that I could manage without her support. We split in order to interact as our characters would have.
I soon noticed a portly man dressed as a military officer moving among the guests. I figured he was our host as he was quickly going from guest to guest and not engaging in any in-depth conversation. When my turn came, he greeted me as Miss Webbs. I took my queue from watching others and in turn greeted my host as my character would have. He seemed pleased, bowed, and then moved on. Barbara saw what happened and was trying to hide a big grin. She was indeed having fun at my expense. I decided to have some fun myself and shied away from her in a very feminine manor, bringing a hand up as if to hide my face. I then dismissed her with a slight wave of said hand. She nearly lost it and had to move off to compose herself. Those around me joined me in a laugh at Barbara’s expense.
As the evening moved on, groups would form and break up, then new groups would form. One group I was asked to join was discussing how turn of the century British society was viewed today. They welcomed an American viewpoint. His Lordship caught ear and joined in on the discussion. I was quickly impressed by his cultural historical knowledge and his debating skills. Our discussion became quite spirited, ending only when we were called to dinner.
A woman dressed as a young military man asked if "he" could escort me to the table. I accepted by taking "his" arm. After a bit of a search, we found a place card with Miss Webbs written on it. My escort held my chair for me, and I thanked "him" with a big smile and a bit of a flirt. Glancing around, I noticed that the seating seemed to be more for character interactions than keeping spouses and friends together. The conversations continued alone the lines of the book and by then everyone was talking in the style of high society at the turn of the 19th century. We were served dishes that would have been served during that time as well. Combined with the costumes, music, and the decor, it was as if we had been transported back in time. It had become an incredible evening that I was honored to be part of.
The party continued for a couple of hours after dinner when it started to break up. Barbara and I were among the first to depart and returned to our room. Back in our room she was so happy she seemed to glow. She was evidently pleased with me, and she showed it with some spirited necking before we retired for the night.
The next morning we rose and packed our things. We then descended to an informal buffet breakfast, during which, we engaged in parting conversations with the other guest. With breakfast behind us, it was time for us to go. As we made our way to the front door, Brentwood came up to us.
"Sir, Madam, His Lordship wonders if he might have a moment of your time and join him in the library."
"Yes, of course."
"Very good, it’s this way."
Brentwood opened the double doors to the library and announced us. Lord W____ rose from a well worn, overstuffed leather chair and greeted Barbara with out stretched arms. She put her hands in his then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.
"My dear Barbara, it’s so good to see again."
"The pleasure, as always, is mine my lord. May I present my gentleman friend, Thomas A____."
"Welcome Thomas. If memory serves, you are the first American to join our little literary group. I sincerely hope you found the evening’s activities to your liking."
"I did indeed your Lordship. It was a magical evening I will remember the rest of my life and well into the next. I am most grateful to you for allowing me to attend."
Lord W____ seemed quite pleased and the three of us continued conversing for some time longer. He was a fascinating man and there was much I would have liked to have been able to ask him. But that would have to wait for another time as I had a plane to catch in London. We rose to leave and His Lordship moved close to Barbara and whispered:
"I say Barbara, if I’m any judge of character, I’d advise you to hang on to this one."
Barbara just smiled then kissed Lord W____ on the cheek. Farewells were exchanged and we left the library for the reception hall. Brentwood, upon see us, picked up our luggage and followed us out the front door. Barbara’s MG had been brought up and was waiting for us. It had been washed and polished but if the trip back was going to be anything like the trip up, then that wouldn’t last long. The luggage was stowed in and on the boot as we got in the car. We waved goodbye and were off.
The trip back was indeed as thrilling as the trip up and the little MG was soon splattered in mud. Barbara took me straight to London. She bypassed the airport and entered the city proper, slowing to a crawl near a small fish-and-chip stall, outside of which was a line half a block long. Her timing, or luck, couldn’t have been better as a car just a couple of car lengths ahead of her pull out from the curb. She parked the MG and we made our way to the end of the line.
"I think you will enjoy this Tom. You wouldn’t think it by its looks, but this place is considered to have the best fish-and-chips in all London and is one of the last to still serve it wrapped in newspaper."
"Judging by the line it must be good."
"This is nothing, during the week we wouldn’t get near the place."
"I can imagine. During the summer I spent in New York City I found that the best places to eat were just holes-in-the-wall or didn’t have walls at all. Perhaps the next time you’re in New York I can show them to you."
"I’d love it. So, will you be spending any time in Paris before heading on to Frankfurt?"
"Some, my appointment in Frankfurt is on Thursday so I’d like to get there on Wednesday."
"You haven’t left yourself much time to see more than the major tourist spots, which of course you simply must see, seeing as how this is your first trip to Europe. A shame though, you’ve come all this way and won’t have time for some real adventures."
"I think the party at Lord W____’s is enough adventure for this trip. Besides, this trip will be pushing three weeks as it is, with the cruse taking up more than a week by its self."
"A thought occurs to me, I have a friend who is currently in Paris. I’m sure that she could come up with a suitable adventure for you, before you leave for Frankfurt. I could call her and see if she can show you around Paris."
"That’s very nice, but I really don’t think I’ll have time for it."
Barbara didn’t say anything, she just smiled at me. I could almost see the proverbial wheels turning in her mind. She was up to something. The line moved fairly fast and we were able to buy lunch without having to wait overly long. We moved to a park that was near by where we were able to find seating under some trees overlooking a large lawn. It was a pleasant spot filled with couples, both young and old, and children at play.
After lunch we headed for the airport where I would take a shuttle flight to Paris. Barbara and I parted but we still had one more chance to be together as I had a one day layover in London on my return home from Germany.
It was a quick and uneventful flight to Paris. I retrieved my luggage and passed through customs without any problems. A taxi took me to the small hotel I was booked at. After checking in I followed the same routine as I had in London, a walk around the area, a late dinner at a café, and bed.
The next morning I rose and readied myself for the day. I assembled breakfast from a couple of street vendors. I ate while continuing my foot tour of the area, then took a taxi to the Exchange. There things went pretty much the same as at the London Exchange, except that I didn’t seem to be making any lasting friendships that I could later tap into for advanced information. That changed after the market close when a young man came up to me as I was about to hail a cab to return to the hotel.
He introduced himself as Claude. He, like me, was just starting in the profession, and worked at the news and research desk. He also recognized the advantage of having contacts in other major world exchanges. We became instant friends. We talked for a bit then exchanged contact information and as he left, I hailed a cab.
I returned to the hotel to change into something more casual. I stopped off at the desk for my room key and the clerk handed me a note written in broken English. It said that a person unknown would be waiting for me in the lobby within the hour to discuss a mater of extreme importance. I was not to be late for any reason. On the way to my room I tried to figure out who this mystery person could be. Everyone at the exchange was quickly ruled out. There was one last possibility, Barbara’s friend.
I changed clothes and returned to the lobby where I took a position in front of a large column with a large potted plant next to it. A survey of the lobby revealed a man of Eastern European origin standing at the corner of the lobby desk peering over a newspaper. As I looked him over there came a disturbance in the plant next to me. I started to turn but was checked by a whispered warning. The voice was a low female one with a thick Russian accent.
"Do not turn around. Do not say anything. We must talk but not here. To your left is small out of sight alcove, we talk there. Move, but do not attract attention. No heroics, my associate covers you."
As we moved towards the alcove together I couldn’t help thinking that this was some sort of game. It was too corny, like a 50’s spy movie. When we entered the alcove I was grabbed by the back of the collar and dragged behind another potted plant and pushed up against a wall. A round, heavy metallic tube was jabbed into my side. If it was a gun barrel then the possibility of this being a game was quickly diminishing.
"It has come to my superior’s attention that you are prying into area we have interest in. He does not like that. Our organization has worked too long to gain advantage in Western financial centers to have efforts compromised by such an insignificant being as you. You will cease your activities at once and sever all ties. You will return home at once and forget everything. Failing to immediately comply without question carries severe consequences."
"Who are you? And how can my making friends in my profession…"
"Enough."
I was grabbed by one shoulder and spun around. The metal barrel like object was thrust into my stomach and pointed upward. And then it happened. It was swift and deadly silent. A hot feeling ripped through my body. Unbelievably, I had just been... kissed! It was Barbara.
"You! You damn near…oh my…I…I swear… I will get even with you if it’s last thing I do."
"Perhaps, but not today. Come we have much to see and do."
"So, who’s your friend at the end of the desk?"
"I say, what? Oh I see. He looks like a tourist or maybe the house detective. I say, he does fit in with my little ruse rather well, don't you think?"
Barbara took me on a tour of Paris saving the best sights until the sun set. Paris at night is something I defy anyone to be able to forget. We had a late dinner at an outdoor café, and then just walked around for a while. Eventually we returned to the hotel and retired to my room.
An early morning arrived with Barbara playfully stroking my ear. She was already dressed and was encouraging me into doing the same. She was going on about how she and her friend were going to treat me to something uniquely French. Curiosity got the better of me yet again and I did as she asked of me.
We left the hotel and Barbara started toward a distant café. I redirected her toward a group of street vendors. As I had done the day before I assembled breakfast from several different vendors, this time for both of us. Barbara was intrigued as this was something she had not done before. We walked around taking in the busy street scene eating as we did so.
Having finished breakfast we hailed a cab. One cut across traffic and screeched to a stop beside us amidst a chorus of horns and language I didn’t need a translator for to know what was being said. Against better judgment, we got in with Barbara giving the driver directions. On the way she filled me in on her friend, Jane.
She and Jane had been best friends all through school. They remained friends after college having a common interest in the theater. Barbara’s interest was in the production of plays and some acting. Jane had a talent as a makeup artist and was soon in demand by theatrical productions in both London and Paris and was constantly rotating between the two cities.
The cab soon pulled up in front of a block of flats. I paid the driver and we exited the cab. We entered the tiny lobby and Barbara pushed a button under a mail box. It was answered by a buzz at a door to our right. I pulled the door open and together we ascended up the stairs to the third floor landing. Barbara knocked on the first door and was immediately greeted by Jane who invited us in.
Barbara and Jane could not be more different. While Barbara had an air of sophistication in manners and dress, Jane was more bohemian. Her hair was dyed a vibrant red and was styled as if a bowl had been placed on her head and used as a cutting guide. She was slim and dressed in non matching casual clothes.
"Hi, come in, come in."
"Jane, this is Tom. Tom, this is my best friend Jane."
"Nice to meet you Jane. Barbara has told me much about you. With your commutes between Paris and London I imagine you lead a fascinating as well as a fast paced life."
"Thank you, but I’m afraid it’s more stressful than fascinating. And Barbara has told me a great deal about you. I must say that you don’t quite fit the part I’ve imagined you in. Well, we shall soon see if you live up to your billing."
Jane offered us tea and biscuits. We conversed until Jane announced that it was time to get things rolling. As we left Jane’s apartment Barbara picked up a bag that had been sitting on the floor by the door. We hit the street and Jane led us up a couple of blocks and one street over to an office attached to a large old wood building that had seen better days. The sign over the door was in French with a smaller English translation underneath, "Ecole de danse classique" or "School of classical dance".
We entered the door and were greeted by the receptionist in English. Jane conversed with her in French then turned and whispered something to Barbara. Both of them opened their purses and took out some money. I reached for my wallet but Barbara stopped me saying something about "being her treat". She also was sporting a big smile that should have registered as a warning, but for some reason didn't. The receptionist pointed to a side door and said something to Jane that I assumed were directions.
Through the door, and down a short narrow hallway, we came to find ourselves back stage in an old 1800's theater. There, a painted woman dressed in period clothing of the late 1800's greeted us in English and introduced herself as Micheline. She led us to an area that had, amongst the theatrical clutter, a few makeup tables with various containers of theatrical makeup, and a couple racks of costumes. She spoke to Jane in French while pointing to this and that. As she made to leave us, she looked straight at me, then took hold of my chin and turned my head one way then back the other. She looked at Jane and said something in French. Then as she started to leave, she laughed, let go of my chin and gave me a pat on the cheek. The last time someone did something like that to me, I ended up modeling a line of teenage girls clothing in a large room filled with buyers and the press. I confronted Barbara.
"Oh no you don't. I know what you're up to and if you think for one minute…"
"I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice. You may recall that I agreed to put the penalty for throwing the card game and lying about it on hold to be called up at some future time. Well, the future has arrived, so strip to your shorts and pick out your dress."
There was no getting out of it, but then again, I didn't exactly want to. There was something about all those silk and satin dresses and their attached petticoats that drew me to them. I started to browse through them, but all were just too low-cut for me. Finally I found one with a square neckline that wasn't low enough to reveal my nonexistent cleavage and removed it from the rack.
"A bit conservative, but a nice choice. Now, you will need to slip these on."
From the bag she was carrying, Barbara produced a pair of frilly panties with ruffles on the backside.
"I think you're going a little too far with this. I do have limits as what I'll put up with."
"We are here to learn how to dance the Can-Can and I think you would rather flash any audience we may have with these on than those."
"I see your point. If you two will excuse me while I slip into something less comfortable."
I moved behind a scenery prop and changed into the panties. Peering out from the edge of the prop, I saw that Jane had her back to me as she changed into her costume. It was about as safe as it was going to get, so I came out from behind the prop and returned to where Barbara was. She smiled but didn't say anything. Instead, she presented me with a bra, which she slipped up my arms. I thought better of protesting and just turned around so she could hook the straps. Turning back to face her, I found that she was holding a pair of foam inserts. These she slipped into the bra's cups. Next, from a nearby table came an elastic belt with straps hanging from it. This was fastened around my waist. From the same table came a pair of black fishnet stockings with a seam running up the back. Barbara rolled one up, slipped it over my foot as I lifted it up, and then unrolled it up my leg securing it to those hanging straps. The other stocking got the same treatment. She then fussed with the seams in back until they were as straight as possible. Under the costume rack were several pairs of black high heel shoes. We tried a couple of pairs before finding one that fit my feet. The heel was maybe two inches high, and about twice as wide as the usual high heel shoes. It was nothing I couldn't handle, given my previous experiences of a few years back. With the foundation completed, it was time for the dress.
The one I had chosen had a red satin full skirt with an attached white petticoat that peeked out from under the hem, which was well below the knee. The bodice was black satin, tight fitting, and sleeveless. There was a black ruffle around the openings for the arms. Barbara once again reached into the bag, this time pulling out a wig. It was the same one she had me wear on the cruse ship. Once again, she secured it in place on my head.
It was time for Barbara to change into her costume and for Jane to have a go at me. She motioned me to take a seat at one of the makeup tables. She wasted no time in applying the thick theatrical makeup. Halfway through, she stopped and stared at me.
"You look familiar for some reason."
"Ummm, I came here with Barbara."
"Ha ha, very funny. No, I've seen you before, I just can't place you. Maybe it will come to me later."
Jane got back to work, applying even more makeup. No minimal look this time. I received the whole nine yards, including false eyelashes. The end result was too much for the street but perfect for a stage performance. Jane was truly a master of her profession. There was no trace of me in the image looking back at me from the mirror. Not even my own mother would be able to pick me out this time, not that I wanted her to see me like that, mind you.
Barbara had finished changing and looked terrific and very sexy. Both she and Jane were wearing a costume identical to mine but with very reveling necklines. While Jane started on her own makeup, Barbara ushered me to a table covered in accessories. She picked out a black choker with a large red cut glass gem in the center surrounded by small white cut glass gems, and fastened it around my neck. Matching earrings were clipped to my earlobes. Next came a black and red lace garter. She told me to lift up my skirt and right foot, and then ran the garter up my leg to my thigh. The last item was a wide brim hat topped with a spray of three white ostrich feathers that she secured to the top of my wig.
Barbara then helped me learn how to walk in the high-heeled shoes. She was amazed at how fast I adapted. I came up with the explanation that my experience of riding a bicycle at high speeds through the crowed streets of New York City gave me a heightened sense of balance. I think she was skeptical, but accepted my explanation anyway. Jane had finished with her makeup and was ready for Barbara. I was left to practice walking, not that I actually needed to. Barbara and Jane finished up in short order and completed their look at the accessory table.
The three of us made our way through the backstage area with me in the middle. This seemed to be by design on the girls' part. Perhaps they considered me to be a flight risk, although I can't imagine where I would flee to dressed the way I was. Micheline materialized out of nowhere to guide us to the stage entrance. She was speaking to us in English until she realized who I was, or more accurately what I was. She clapped her hands together and brought the tips of her fingers up to her chin, and said what I assumed were either words of praise or astonishment in French. At the stage entrance, Micheline said something to me that I just as soon wished she hadn't. Barbara and Jane had a good laugh at my expense, and no, I’m not going to say what it was.
We emerged on stage from the side entrance and were greeted by Estelle, the dance teacher. Like Micheline, she was also dressed in period clothing. She wasted no time in putting us to work.
Estelle started off with the basic movements. Nothing was as simple as it seemed, for nearly every action was to be accompanied by an intentionally suggestive body movement. For example, to pick up the skirt, we were to bend low from the waist but keep our heads up so that the audience could get a good look at our cleavage. Even raising the skirt was to be done with a bit of a tease. Another example, the leg had to be raised and shaken side to side then let back down with the toe and heel striking the stage floor at the same time and with some authority. The resulting boom had to be audible from the back of the room. It was exhaustive work and after a couple of hours we were ready for a break. We retired to a small sitting area backstage, where we were met by Micheline.
"Ah, you are finding out that zee Can-Can is more hard work than glamour, no?"
The three of us nodded in agreement.
"I think you will have fun in zee end. Now, if you would like some coffee and pastries, I will have zee café across the street send some over."
Jane was the only one of who was still able to speak.
"Merci, that would be lovely."
Soon, a young man came dressed in a stereotype red and white horizontally stripped shirt, black paints, black beret, and a red bandanna tied around his neck. I had a feeling that it was solely for the benefit of the tourists. He carried a tray with our order that he placed on a coffee table in front of us. He looked the three of us over, removed his cap and in credible English, made a pass… at ME!
"Mademoiselle, perhaps after you have learned to dance zee Can-Can, you would like to learn zee art of making love as only zee French can do, no? I would be most happy to instruct you personally."
For reasons I can't explain, instead of becoming angry, I decided to play along, except I replied in my normal manly voice.
"Perhaps it is I who can teach you a few things."
He went into shock with his eyes and mouth wide open. Then he started to curse in French. Jane, who understood everything he said, gave it right back at him… in a deep manly voice! I didn't think it possible, but his eyes got even wider. Barbara then joined in the fun, also with a credible manly voice. Our poor waiter couldn't get away from us fast enough. Micheline, who had come to check on us, had witnessed most of what had transpired and joined us in a hardy laugh.
"Monsieur, you make zee most convincing woman in looks and manner. You are zee professional impersonator, no?"
"NO, definitely not. I'm just paying off a kind of debt owed. When this is over, what you see goes into hiding, never to see the light of day again."
"Oh, that is a pity, for I could offer you a job here. You would be most helpful in keeping our more amorous male visitors in check, no?"
Micheline started to chuckle and was joined by Barbara and Jane. She moved off when four middle-aged English women appeared backstage. She escorted them to the dressing area. We scarfed down the refreshments and headed back to the stage.
Peeking around the stage entrance, I spotted a photographer with a small view camera. It looked like I was to be immortalized for all posterity once again, something I did not want.
"You two enjoy, I'm going to watch from back here."
"You're coming with us; we're a threesome after all."
"Just the same, I really don't relish the idea of a photograph floating around somewhere that can come back and bite me at some future time."
"Tough crumpets. Now quit whining and come along or I'll rip that wig off your head exposing your real identity to all around us."
"You wouldn't, and I think you mean tough cookies."
"I would, wouldn't I Jane?"
"Oh yes, Barbara would. And if she didn't, then I would."
"Et tu, Jane?"
"Of course, I've put a lot of work into you, and I'd like to have a record of it. But not to worry, as no one will know who you are. And I promise, I will never tell, nor will Barbara, right?"
"Right, so, as we say, stiff upper lip. That's the spirit, and off we go."
Barbara and Jane each put an arm around my waist and marched me out on stage. In the audience were four middle-aged Englishmen seating themselves, undoubtedly the husbands of the four women that appeared backstage. A few French men had also taken seats. When they all spotted the three of us, they started whistling and hollering. I could see that the remaining hours were going to drag by, in more ways than one. The photographer had us take the classic Can-Can pose; that is to say, we held our skirt hems up high with our right leg up and bent, much to the delight of the lechers in the audience. I thought about holding my skirt in front of my face, but one look at Barbara put that idea out of my head fast.
With the photo out of the way, we went back to work. The four English women, having changed, joined us on stage. Micheline started them on the basics while Estelle had us put what we had already learned to music. It wasn’t Offenbach’s “Orpheus in the Underworld” that everyone thinks of when they hear Can-Can but another of his works, “La Vie Parisienne,” an interesting and lively piece.
It took time to coordinate the moves, nuances, and rhythm of the music into something resembling a dance. But, by the end of our lesson, we were doing a very credible Can-Can, judging by our audience's reaction anyway. I have to admit that I really enjoyed it. I also came to enjoy the audience’s reaction to what we were doing, and surprisingly, even when we turned around and threw our skirts high up over us revealing our ruffled covered derrieres. At any rate, my penalty had been paid, and it was time to head back to the dressing room.
I wanted to quickly change before anyone could walk in on us, but I needn't have worried as it was time for lunch and nearly everyone was leaving the building. We stripped off our makeup and costumes and were back in our street clothes in short order. I retreated to the sitting area leaving Barbara and Jane to put on their normal makeup.
When they finished, they joined me in the sitting room and together we made our way back to the office. There, the receptionist handed Jane a large rectangular envelope. I surmised that it held the incriminating evidence. Part of me wanted to have a look at the photo, while the rest of me wanted to seize and destroy the cursed thing. We exited the building and moved off to the side.
Across from us was the café that had supplied our refreshments. Seated there were the four English couples. The husbands were acting like dirty old men trying to pickup loose women. Their wives, still dressed in their costumes, were acting like turn of the century harlots, flirting and giggling with the men. They were pretty much making spectacles of themselves, but then again, they seemed to be having a whole lot of fun, and why not? The moment wasn't wasted on Jane.
"I think we were too quick to change out of our costumes. We could have remained dressed and had lunch at that café. What say Barbara?"
"That sounds like it could be good for a couple of laughs, especially if we can get the same waiter. Maybe we can rent the costumes for an hour."
"Capital idea, Barbara. Let's find out, and maybe we can get Micheline to parade us around, maybe even dance a little, like a show preview for the public."
"I say Jane, maybe they will pay us to do it."
"That's a thought, what do you think, Tom?"
Both of them glanced my way and started giggling. Looking very stern, I leaned in very close to Jane's face. With our foreheads almost touching, and using my best Daffy Duck impression complete with spit, I slowly said:
"You’re, disssspicable."
Jane quickly turned away displaying a sour face and waving her hand back and forth in front of my face. She moved out of range and broke out laughing. Barbara called me several 'endearing' English names and started to beat on me. I took off down the street with both of them in hot pursuit. We called it off after about half a block. We stood there awhile, laughing between deep breathes, and recalling the looks on each others face. In the end, they forced me to admit that I had had fun, but I cautioned them that it wasn't something that I wanted to do again. Well, I did want to, but I wasn't about to tell them that. It was time to find lunch.
Jane suggested a riverside outdoor restaurant. It sounded like a peaceful and romantic place, and it proved to be so to the point that it worked its charm on both Barbara and I. There was no doubt about it; I was falling in love, and I suspected Barbara was as well. We had had a wonderful, if not unusual, time together so far, and I didn't want it to end. The rest of the day found the three of us exploring the lesser known sights of Paris, well into the night.
The next day found me ready to board the train to Frankfurt Germany to keep my appointment at the Frankfurt stock exchange. Barbara would remain in Paris with Jane for a couple of days, and then would return to London to meet me when I returned from Frankfurt. Jane would be accompanying Barbara as she was needed at a play house in London for a few weeks. I had chosen the train as Frankfurt was only a few hours away and I wanted to see the countryside. I would arrive with plenty of time to check in at the hotel and prepare for my meeting first thing the following morning.
Things at the Frankfurt exchange went exactly as at the London exchange until after lunch. My host, Herr H____ took me to meet Dieter who was on market news watch. But introductions would have to wait as a group of stocks were taking a small hit and Dieter was furiously trying to find out why. Herr H____ translated the incoming information for me. All Dieter could find was a partial news story out of London. I spotted something else and with Herr H____’s blessing I called one of my London contracts.
I was able to get hold of Jerry and told him what I had spotted. He had access to more of the story but not all. The rest was out of his reach in Belgium. I gave him contact info for Claude in Paris and said that if anyone could get the story it would be him. Jerry put me on hold. Less than ten minutes latter we had the whole story.
Everyone had to act fast. Analyses of the combined information showed that a different but related group of stocks was going to be affected the most. Herr H____ instructed his brokers to warn all clients with investments in those stocks. Then he put out the buy signal on put options for those stocks. It was a scene repeated in Paris and London.
Trades were being wrapped up just as the full story hit the newswire. Barely half an hour had passed from when Jerry had given me the full info. The analyses had been spot on and a lot of money had been saved. Before the market closed the puts were sold into strength resulting in some nice profits and no worries about a reversal overnight. It was an incredible feeling to have been part of a coordinated effort between people at three major exchanges that resulted in us being ahead of breaking news. My resume had just become impressive.
Things were about to payoff in another way. Herr H____ voted me a generous commission ratified by all involved. My trip had just been paid for, but I instantly thought of another use for the money. Herr H____ became enthused with my idea and offered me the services of his secretary, Gretchen. I gratefully accepted as I was going to need all the help I could get to pull it off.
The first thing to be done was to move back the date I was to fly home. Gretchen called the Frankfurt office of the airline I was booked with. Day flights had waiting lists, but there were seats available on the red eyes. With people waiting to buy my ticket, the airline had no problem in changing my flight to the red eye two days beyond my original date. Next I had to cancel my flight from Frankfurt to London. That proved to be more difficult. Gretchen tossed around a few big names in the firm and the airline rep. caved in. I then reserved train passage from Frankfurt to Treviso, Italy leaving Friday noon. To be more accurate, reservations on three trains as I would have to change trains twice. The trip would take nearly a full day and I would arrive in Treviso Saturday morning.
For Barbara, a Saturday morning flight from Paris to Treviso was made in her name. Of course I had to send Barbara a telegram advising her of a change in plans and that a ticket was waiting for her at the airport will call. I then made reservations at a hotel in Venice, Italy. Finally I secured plane tickets for two from Treviso to London arriving the same day as my late night flight home. I thanked Gretchen for her invaluable help then left the exchange for a nearby beer garden to join the others in celebrating our success.
The next morning I rose and went searching of breakfast. After breakfast I returned to my room to pack up, putting a change of clothes and some personal care items in a carryon bag. I headed down to the hotel desk, checked out, and then exited the hotel to grab a cab to the train station. I purchased a ticket and checked my luggage through to Treviso.
The train pulled in on the advertised and I wasted no time climbing aboard, I found my seat and settled in for a much anticipated trip over the Alps.
The trip was a memorable one with excellent food and scenery that was off the scale, although I would have liked to have crossed the Alps in daylight, but seeing them at sunset is not to be missed either. No problems were encountered; even the changing of trains went off without a hitch. The last train was a sleeper, and I wasted no time boarding and finding my sleeping berth. Soon after the train pulled out I was cutting zees.
I was awakened in the morning by the conductor calling out for Treviso. I changed clothes, rolled out of my berth, and then made my way to the lavatory to freshen up. By the time I finished, the train had pulled into the station. I stepped off and went in search of my luggage. Having reclaimed my luggage, I moved off to a row of lockers and stashed it in one of them. It was time to find breakfast. I found a pleasant little café that overlooked a busy square. After a leisurely breakfast I embarked on a foot tour of the area as there was still a little while to go before Barbara would arrive.
As the time drew near I made my way to where the buses stop at the train station. Over the next half hour, I watch three buses pull in but none were the right one. Finally the bus from the airport pulled in and disgorged its passengers. I stood on a bench and looked over the crowd. There was no missing Barbara. She spotted me and worked her way through the crowd. I stepped off the bench just as she came up to me. She dropped her luggage and embraced me. We greeted each other like young lovers. I pulled back from her to get a better look. She was looking very Parisian in a full skirted black, side zip dress with a shoulder to shoulder round neckline that had a two inch wide, turned down continues collar. Around her waist was a matching four inch wide belt with a large silver two prong buckle. Black high heeled shoes and a single strand of pearls with matching earrings completed the simple and yet, oh so elegant look.
I picked up Barbara’s luggage and we headed for the locker where mine was stored, scoring a luggage cart on the way. After retrieving my luggage we headed for the ticket window to purchase passage to Venice. Shuttle trains to Venice departed regularly so we didn’t have long to wait. We climbed on board carrying our luggage which we stashed in a rack in the middle of the car. We took a couple of seats in the rear of the car and settled in for the twenty minute ride to the station in Venice via a viaduct.
We left the station and carried our luggage to a nearby dock. There we hired a water taxi to take us to our hotel. We checked into the hotel and were shown to our room. We deferred unpacking, opting to take in lunch first. To that end, we inquired at the front desk for the best place to eat in the area. The place was easy to find and we were soon enjoying two stuffed Panini sandwiches. We explored the sights and shops in the area well into the night. Sleep began to overtake us, so we returned to our hotel room.
The next morning found us sleeping in. We didn’t get up until after ten. Breakfast was skipped in favor of an early lunch at a restaurant along the lagoon with a view of the mainland. We explored this new area until we came across a local festival. There was plenty of music, dancing, entertainment, and of course, food vendors. As the sun went down, strings of colored lights lit up lending a magical feel. It was going to be another late night for us.
Monday morning, and the start of our last full day in Venice. We some how managed to rise at a more normal hour and had a light breakfast at the hotel. Near the Grand Canal we found a place where we could rent a motor scooter and in short order we were off to explore the parts of Venice we had yet to see. Barbara insisted on driving, but I finally succeeded in getting her to agree to taking turns. It was a lot of fun and we covered a lot of ground.
Late afternoon found us back at the scooter rental. From there we walked to the Grand Canal where we hired a gondolier to take us down the canal to the lagoon. His timing was perfect as we entered the lagoon looking out at the Adriatic Sea just as the sun was setting. It was a magnificent sight and a more romantic sight one could not wish for. Barbara and I kissed, and then she snuggled up against me as we enjoyed the developing night scene. Paris is called the city for lovers, but from our point of view, Venice can certainly give it a run for its money.
The next day after lunch we flew back to London, arriving late in the afternoon at the same airport I would be flying out of later that night. I put my luggage in a locker and so did Barbara as there was not much sense in lugging it all over London. We left the terminal and Barbara surprised me by hailing a cab. I had thought we would be making a quick tour of London, but Barbara explained that Jane was back at her London flat and she had invited us to a goodbye dinner for me before I had to fly back home. We soon were at Jane's flat a little ahead of the appointed hour. Dinner would soon be ready and the table was already set. We both offered to help but Jane wouldn’t hear of it, so we took seats in the living room, occasionally calling out to Jane to keep her company.
When dinner was ready, we move to the table as Jane brought out various dishes. The meal was an eclectic mix of English and French dishes and all were excellent. If Jane ever got tired of the theater, she could make it as a personal chef. During the meal Jane insisted we fill her in on all the sorted details of our time in Venice. Barbara obliged, up to a point that is. I had a feeling that she would fill in the rest once I was safely on my way home.
When we finished dinner Barbara offered to give Jane a hand clearing the table and was accepted. My offer was rejected as I was the ‘honored guest’. Barbara headed for the kitchen loaded with dishes, but something on the wall just before the kitchen caused her to pause and stare. I figured it was a new painting or something, or worse, the Can-Can photo. Jane noticed Barbara and came to investigate. Barbara had seen enough and resumed her trek to the kitchen. She had no sooner disappeared into the kitchen when Jane suddenly gasped.
"Oh my…is it possible? Can this be what I was trying to recall? Tom, can you come over here?"
I moved to join Jane and looked at the object of attention as Barbara emerged from the kitchen. I froze in disbelief. It couldn't be what I thought it was, not here, not now. But it was. We were staring at a large advertising placard. It was identical to a full page ad I had seen a few years ago in a fashion newsmagazine. Staring down at us was a boyish looking teen girl with short sassy hair that swept across the forehead. She was wearing a cowl neck, yellow velvet sheath, white vinyl boots, and an encircling chain down low on the hips. At the top was the name of what had been a few years prior, a new line of teenage girl’s clothing, Tommie Girl.
Jane garbed me by both shoulders, spun me around and slammed my back up against the wall next to the placard. She starred back and forth between the placard and me.
"It is you! Check it out Barbara, he's Tommie."
"Oh that can't be, I just don't see it, well… no I think not.”
"He's her all right, and I can prove it. Come with me Tom."
"That won't be necessary Jane. You are correct, I was Tommie Girl. I got pressed into service when the model to be disappeared and a suitable replacement girl couldn't be found. But how did you come by this? The line didn't do all that well in the US, and I can't imagine it even being heard of over here."
"It did fair over here, in fact my younger sister became obsessed with trying to look like Tommie to the point of wanting to be Tommie. It was for her that I nicked a pair of posters a couple of years ago. I pulled this one out of storage just before my last trip to Paris. Wait until I tell Judy that Tommie Girl wasn't a girl at all!"
"NO! You can't tell her or anyone else. The fashion industry is more cutthroat than the world of espionage. Even at this late date, if word got out, it would be catastrophic for a lot of people. The two of you will just have to be satisfied with being among a very small group who know Tommie's real identity."
"I'm sorry Tom, Jane, but I'm still not buying it. The model I saw on the telly…"
"Telly, you mean television? The show was televised? But I didn't see any TV crews. Well there was a guy with a large camera on his shoulder with a guy next to him talking into a hand mic… Oh great, I hope that doesn't come back to bite me as well."
"Yes, well, as I was saying, the model I saw walked and acted like a professional model. You just can't fake that."
"I didn't. You remember the young woman who educated me in the bedroom? She was actually teaching me what I needed to know for the show. The sex was sort of in payment for the modeling lessons."
"Well, I must say this is an interesting development, one which we will have to discuss later. Still, I'm just going to have to see it for myself before I'll believe it. Jane, you say you can prove it?"
"Easily, and it won't take long. Come along, Tommie."
Jane had put enough emphasis on the "ie" to tell me that I was going to be fully transformed into Tommie. I offered no resistance as Jane led me to her bedroom. She didn't need to say a word as I had been in this situation before and knew what to do. I stripped to my shorts. Jane handed me a pair of her panties and a pair of long white stockings. They weren't necessary to prove that I was Tommie, but I thought better of declining. I entered the bathroom and closed the door.
When I emerged form the bathroom, I saw that Jane had laid out an outfit on the bed. She picked up a brownish yellow knit pullover with a turtleneck. She slipped it over my outstretched arms, then pulled it over my head and down into place. I picked up a light brown suede, hip hugger skirt and stepped into it. I pulled it up, tucking in the pullover. Jane buttoned and zipped it in back. The hem was about three inches above the top of the knee. Too short for my liking, but then again, it was for Tommie. A matching suede Bolero jacket and high heel shoes completed the look.
Makeup was next, and Jane proved to be equal to Susan, who created Tommie a few years back. Jane then produced a wig that came reasonably close to the color of my hair, my hair being too short to do anything with. The style was a bob with bangs that completely covered my forehead. In front of my ears, it was cut like sideburns that came just below the top of the ears. Behind my ears, it swept in a big curve around my ears and up toward the sideburns, stopping at mid ear. The end result was really cute, but something was missing. Jane sensed it too, and gave me a good looking over. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers and went to her closet. From the top shelf, she pulled down a light brown beret. She secured it to the wig slightly off to the side. It was perfect. Tommie was back, and liking it.
"You wait here 'till I announce you."
Jane exited the bedroom for the living room, leaving the door open.
"Modeling the latest look for today's young woman, I give you Tommie."
That obviously was my cue and I came out of the bedroom in full runway strut, with the exaggerated crossover step turning my body into each step. There is a young woman who would've been very proud of her student right then, if she only knew. When Barbara saw me, she froze, starring at me. I walked right up to her, and struck the same pose as in the placard. Her chin fell into her lap. I turned and strutted toward Jane. I struck the same pose for her except I poised my head to look straight at her face since she was standing. Jane could only stare with her mouth wide open. I turned and moved to stand midway between them. I was having fun and was beginning to realize why.
Barbara was the first to act. She rose and moved to me, looking me over and circling me as she did so. On the second pass, she stopped and faced the bedroom.
"OK you three, I'm not buying it. Tom, you can come out now, and introduce me to your accomplice."
"It's just Jane and I, and I'm right behind you."
We both turned and faced each other. She stared into my eyes and then grabbed my crotch. I bent over and backed away.
"It IS you."
"Nice, but I think you could have found a better way to verify it."
"You toad. You mean to tell me that the protests over the ships beauty contest, and over Lord W____’s costume party, and at the dance school, all of it, has just been an act? You're a professional crossdresser and you couldn't tell me. You miserable toad, you are so going to pay for this."
"No, no, Barbara you don't understand. It was just the one time. I got drafted and I needed the money, and, well, let’s go sit down and I'll tell you everything."
"I think he should take us out for drinks at the very least. What do you think Jane?"
"Agreed, and I know just the place where we can have a girls night out."
"You’re both forgetting that I have a plane to catch, soon. We just don’t have time for it."
"So we don’t. Very well, I will just have to suspend sentence until a more opportune time."
"Oh come on Barbara, not again."
"I’m afraid so."
Barbara may be letting you off, but I have a couple of things you can do. First you can sign the poster to my sister, Judy."
"Agreed, you have a pen? Okay, what next?"
"Barbara, can you take a picture of us together? The camera is in the credenza."
"Oh no, this placard has caused me enough trouble over the last few years. I don’t need any more from a new photo."
"I’ll give you a choice, a picture with me here or a picture with my sister in Piccadilly square."
"We don’t have time for that, remember?"
“Then we’ll just have to change your flight. Hang on, if we do that then we can have a girl’s night out, and my sister can join us.”
"While I don’t think you can change my flight, I’m not going to risk it. So, where, in front of the poster?"
"Yes, that would be perfect, and we can strike the same pose as in the poster. Ok, ready Barbara."
"Will that be all, madam?"
"One last thing, you think you can teach us how to walk like you just did?"
They both tried their best, but without training in poise and posture as applied to modeling (which there just wasn’t time for) the lesson degenerated into silliness and laughter. Soon it was time to call a halt and for Tommie to slip back into retirement once again, although given Barbara's threat, I doubted for the last time. Jane and I went into the bedroom. She removed the makeup then left me to change back into my own clothes. I emerged from the bedroom with less than rave reviews. It was time to leave for the airport.
Being late at night, traffic was relatively light, making the trip to the airport routine. Even the airport was relatively free from the usual chaos. I retrieved my luggage from the locker and checked in at the flight desk. The three of us walked to the departure gate lounge. All too soon it was time to part. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Judging by the way Barbara hugged and kissed me, it was just as difficult for her. The call to board was made over the p.a. system. We broke our embrace and she slipped me a note with her address on it. I thanked Jane for the excellent dinner and said goodbye to both.
I turned away and headed for the portal to the plane. I didn’t want to enter and hesitated at the entrance but was swept inside and ushered onto the plane by a less than sympathetic crowd. I found my seat and settled in. A stewardess came by handing out blankets and seeing if anything else was needed. I put the blanket next to me. Soon the doors were closed and secured. The plane moved away from the terminal and taxied to the end of the runway. The pilot put the pedal to the metal and we blasted down the runway.
As the plane lifted off it hit me that after twenty-one days, the trip was coming to an end and I was less than a day away from home. As I reflected back on the trip I became astounded at just how much had taken place in so short a time. That’s when the physical toll of all that I had been through overtook me. I put the seat back and stretched out as best I could in the cramped seating. Wrapping myself in the thin blanket, and with Barbara’s name upon my lips, I drifted off to sleep, to dream of summertime adventures, yet to be.
INTRODUCTION
This is the last of four interrelated recollections by a man in the late summer of life, recalling the events of some unusual summers, and the members of the female persuasion who made them so unusual and worth remembering.
My Summer In Remembrance
By: Zylux
It was near the end of summer in 2006 on a resort island in the Pacific Northwest. The weather was cloudy but warm, a nice break from the week long rains. Most people would enjoy the respite before the next storm system slammed into us. But for me it’s just the end of a really bad week and it would take more than a sunny day to cheer me up.
I’d taken advantage of the break in the weather to seek out solace in a secret clearing with a single hidden entrance. I had climbed atop my favorite rock and looked around the clearing. It’s a magical place that had brought me joy and unusual adventures when I was a lad of eleven as well as now in the late summer of my life. If ever I needed this place to work its magic, it was now. For you see, I’m dying and there’s not much I can do about it.
A couple of days prior, I had received the test results from a follow up to a long overdo physical. The doctor had noticed something in the results from the first batch of tests and ordered new ones including a brain scan. It was in his office that I received the bad news. He started off by reassuring me that I didn’t have cancer, but I was dead anyway. Of course he didn’t put it that way, but he might just as well have. At that point I slipped into a daze as he proceeded to explain just what was wrong and what my options were.
The doctor had said something about the lymphatic system, benign tumors, and migration to the brain. Treatment consisted of brain surgery to remove tumors that could be and reduce those that couldn’t and regularly being pumped full of chemical poisons. That would give me a couple to a few years more than I currently had. The bottom line would be the same.
Once back home, I reflected on what my real options were. At a cost that would wipe out all of my savings and investments, I would get a few extra years at best, about half of which would be spent in hospitals. That would leave my family with nothing, while making a couple of doctors and their families rather well off. I didn’t need all my years as a stockbroker to see that that was a horrendously bad investment. I decided to take what I had and leave the extra years to someone else. Old investment adage: always leave something on the table.
My wife wasn’t thrilled with my decision and tried to hide her inner pain behind a typically British stiff upper lip posture. But I could see through it. After all, we’ve been together for too long to not know what the other is really feeling. We’ve been through the good and the occasionally bad, it’s been one heck of a ride, and I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.
It’s a ride that began on a cruse ship during the summer following my graduation from college. I was on a fact finding trip to Europe prior to my starting a career as a stockbroker. Barbara was returning from a holiday in the States to her home outside London. We were from very different worlds, culturally and socially, but somehow we hit it off and ended up spending almost my entire trip together. She, along with her best friend, tempted, coerced, and challenged me into some adventures that were definitely not of the usual kind. To say that I should have been scared off would be putting it mildly, but I wasn’t. Instead, I was drawn more and more to her. She had a charm and mystique about her that had a grip on me and had no intentions of letting go (and still hasn’t).
After returning home, I immediately started plotting ways of getting back to London to see her. But first I had to secure my job and income; after all, it takes money to fly across the Atlantic. This proved to be easier than I would have thought thanks to an information network I had setup with newly formed friends in three of Europe’s major stock exchanges. Word of my ability to be in on breaking events before anyone else spread fast and my list of clients as well as my reputation with the brokerage grew quickly. I was making money, but unlike the majority of those in the profession, I was keeping it, not spending it. No sports cars or boats, nor mini mansions as I was saving for something far more desirable: Barbara.
At first, I would utilize three and four day weekends to visit Barbara in England. I would come into work with a carry-on bag already packed and as soon as the market closed for the long weekend, I was out the door and headed for the airport. As my addiction to Barbara grew, I started to call in sick on the occasional Friday or Monday between holidays. I doubt that my employer bought that I was sick on those occasions, but since I was bringing a fair amount of money into the firm, nothing was said. To insure that nothing would be said, I kept my “illness” in check as best I could.
When we were able to get together, we did the things that young lovers usually do, and one that I doubt many knew took place. That being the book discussion and costume party at Lord W____’s manor. These were always mentally stimulating and lavish affairs, not to mention the chance to dress in period clothing, both male and female, depending on the luck of the draw.
On the occasions that I drew a female role, Barbara would do my makeup, if it could be called that. The range of make up exhibited by other male guests having to portray a female character was from none to something just short of clownish depending on the tastes of the man and his spouse and the spirit of the party. There was no attempt to make anyone pass as a woman. Barbara would apply just enough to soften the rough male edges I was finally developing. I wouldn’t look silly but could still fit in and have a good time.
There was one party that ended up bringing my relationship with Barbara into focus. The invitation announced that the book under scrutiny would be C.S. Forester’s Horatio Hornblower classic Flying Colours. I was very familiar with the book having read the entire Hornblower series over and over and over as a young teenage boy. There was one character in the book, along with the ending, that caused me to suspect that His Lordship was up to something.
Barbara had known Lord W____ for many years and had become one of His Lordship’s favorite guests. He also seemed to be quite interested in Barbara’s relationship with me. It didn’t matter if there was something a foot or not, I saw a possible opportunity to do something with Barbara that wasn’t likely to come again and prepared for it.
The party was to be on a Saturday in the summer of ’73, so I decided to fly to London Friday morning after watching the market opening. At that time, I was starting my second year with the firm and had accumulated enough vacation time to request Friday off as a vacation day. No more having to fake illness.
The trip via plane and train to a station near Barbara’s where she would pick me up, was as uneventful as usual. The car ride from the station to Lord W____’s manor was as, shall I say, exhilarating as usual. One would think that by then I would have been used to Barbara’s driving on England’s country roads, something she preferred to the motorway.
At the manor the routine was the same as on previous occasions. Brentwood, Lord W____’s butler, greeted us, took our bags, and showed us to our usual room. Once all the guests arrived, He distributed the costumes according to the draw. I opened the box containing my costume and was greeted by a name tag on which was written in a very elegant calligraphy, Captain Horatio Hornblower. The name tag in Barbara’s box read, Lady Barbara Wellesley. My suspicions were confirmed. Luck of the draw? Not bloody likely, at least not this time. I proceeded to change into my costume without saying anything about my suspicions to Barbara. While she was busy with her makeup, I retrieved an item from my bag and slipped it into a left side pocket of my costume.
Before we joined the others, Barbara wanted to apply some makeup to my face. I protested but she explained that it wasn’t to soften my features but accentuate them, and give me the weathered look of a British naval captain. When she was satisfied with her work, she commented on how dashing I looked and with a grand courtesy, said she would be honored if I were to escort her to the ball room. I removed my bicorn hat with a flourish, deeply bowed to her and proclaimed that the honor would be mine. We laughed a bit, then joined arms and exited the room.
As we entered the ballroom, Lord W____, dressed as a common British sailor, came scurrying up to us taking my hat and offering to bring us drink. I was startled until I noticed his name tag read, Seamen Brown, Coxswain. Brown was also Captain Hornblower’s aid. It was going to be an interesting night.
Maybe awkward would have been a better descriptor. My new look was drawing every woman, both real and portrayed, to come flirt with me. Barbara was becoming visibly jealous and I suspect was beginning to regret having embellished my looks. Brown was practicality hanging on my coat tails, I assumed to keep me out of trouble. Fortunately the flirting didn’t last long, and the evening moved into the more usual storyline and character discussions.
At the usual time, we were called to dinner. As the meal progressed I started to get far more attention then usual from the women characters. Even though it was done in a jokingly manner, I wasn’t used to it and became a little embarrassed. Barbara, having given up trying to fight it, joined in. She got in a good one drawing a few chuckles from those around us. That didn’t bother me half as much as her gloating over it. She was sitting across and down from me near the end of the table, sporting that annoying Cheshire cat’s grin. I was never happier then when everyone tired of their fun and moved on to a new target. But my relief was short lived as soon there after, the dessert course came, signaling that my aforementioned opportunity was rapidly approaching.
I was too nervous to do more than pick at my dessert. I fortified myself by drinking down the glass of black current cordial that accompanied the dessert. It was show time. I picked up the dessert spoon and began gently tapping on the side of the crystal wine glass. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked in my direction.
"My apologies for interrupting your evening, but there’s something I would like to say, and I fear if I wait any longer I may end up not saying it at all."
I rose from the table and moved down and around to Barbara. I stopped before her and bowed with all the Old World grace I could muster.
"Lady Barbara, you have captivated me from the moment I first laid eyes on you on board the ship we sailed together on some time ago. Since then, you have introduced and even coerced me into some thrilling and some, shall I say, awkward adventures. I do not regret for a moment having partaken in any of them, nor do I wish for the adventures with you to stop. To that end there is something I very much long to ask of you."
As I descended to one knee I pulled a small box from my left pocket and opened it.
"Lady Barbara L____, will you do me the supreme honor of marrying me and becoming my wife?"
At first Barbara thought I was just taking the book discussion beyond the end of the book but then it dawned on her that I had used her last name and not that of her character. She realized that this was for real and blurted out a loud yes. She leaned forward and threw her arms around me, almost causing me to fall over backwards. I managed to save myself and stood up with Barbara embracing and kissing me. His Lordship rose from the table and led everyone in a rousing British cheer ending with several rounds of huzzah. It was an emotional experience but I didn’t dwell on it as I still had one last act to perform, the ring.
One would think that being a woman of means Barbara would have some rather expensive pieces of jewelry, but in truth it was just the opposite. She had a few nice pieces but they were small and conservative. I was quite happy as it meant that I didn’t have to spend what I could afford (and then some, most likely) on a large impressive stone, but instead invest in a one-of-a-kind set of rings for both of us. To that end I had made a hasty trip to the artist district in New York City to have an artist I had worked with before, design and fabricate interlocking engagement and wedding rings for Barbara and a matching wedding band for me. She knew a hobbyist gem cutter who had fashioned a most unusual set of matched white and yellow diamonds and took me to see him.
Unusual wasn’t the right word for it. The individual stones were strangely shaped and didn’t seem appropriate for a wedding ring. It was when they were together in a certain pattern that the real shape became apparent. At a distance it looked like a bi-color rectangular diamond, but up close one could see that it was several small stones forming a loose faceted lover’s knot. It was ingenious and perfect for Barbara. They were also a bit pricey but affordable, and I sprang for it.
The artist designed the settings so that the design would only be apparent when the two rings were together. She designed my ring in gold and white gold that also featured a lover’s knot, smaller in size and shape, and upon close inspection, looking like individual pieces the same as the diamond set. She gave the project priority status and expressed mailed the rings to me before I had to leave for London.
Once Barbara had finished kissing me, she finally noticed that I was still holding the open box with the three rings. She stared at the rings with her eyes and mouth open. She covered her mouth with her right hand but instead of presenting her left hand to me, she seized the box and began moving around the table so that all could see the assembled set. Many came up to me after dinner to genuinely inquire as to where I had found such an unusual and exquisite set of rings.
When Barbara had shown it to the last person she looked back at me. I gave her a stern and impatient look. She slinked back to me looking like a naughty little girl, and proud of it. I took back the box, removed the engagement ring, and then closed the box as I slipped it back into my pocket. I took her left hand and slipped the ring onto her ring finger. Our engagement was official. More kissing, more cheers, and this time champagne. The servants had wheeled in a cart with a case of a very good vintage champagne that had obviously been on ice all evening long. Our host had indeed set us up hoping I would seize the moment, and I hadn’t disappointed him. Lord W____ approached us ready to shake my hand.
"Splendid, absolutely splendid. Well done Thomas, well done. You maybe an American but I defy anyone to say that you do not have the blood of an English gentleman."
"Thank you my lord, but the credit belongs to the authors of the books I’ve read for all of your parties I’ve been privileged to attend. It is from their words that I have drawn inspiration. I can only hope to be on the same cricket field as they."
"Very well put Thomas, but I think your being overly modest. No matter, congratulations to you my good man, you are getting one of England’s finest. And my dear Barbara, congratulations as well, I could not be more proud, and to think that I have been so privileged to have witnessed this moment in your life."
"Thank you my lord, I am most happy to be able to share this moment with you and so many friends. I could not wish for a better setting, and I wonder, do I detect your hand in this moment? Or perhaps Tom has talked you into this all too perfect setting."
Lord W____ didn’t answer. Instead, he just chuckled a bit then raised his glass in a toast, leaving Barbara to wonder. She looked at me, but I wasn’t about to tell her (and still haven’t). She kissed his Lordship on the cheek and resigned herself to possibly never knowing the truth, although I suspect she didn’t really want to know.
Winning over his Lordship was easy; Barbara’s family was going to take some doing. We of course announced our engagement to Barbara’s family prior to my returning home. Enthused is not a word I would use to describe their reaction. I was definitely not what they had wanted for their youngest daughter. Still, compared to the majority of men Barbara had dated prior to me, I came off looking pretty good, according to her sister anyway. It was still going to take a lot of work before being fully accepted into the family. By comparison, my family was going to be a breeze, even though they didn’t even know I was involved with Barbara. The tough part would be how and when to tell them.
A possible opportunity would come near the end of that summer when my family held its annual family reunion. That particular year it was to be at my parent’s home in the Pacific Northwest. I debated myself over inviting Barbara as she would be exposed to the vast majority of the clan all at once. I felt it might be a strain on her, but Barbara viewed it as a rare chance to experience Middle American culture and felt it was as good a time as any to announce our engagement. I gave in and agreed with her. Now I just had to get time off from the brokerage.
I returned home via the red eye Sunday night. Monday morning I dragged myself into work and hunted up my boss to ask for some vacation time at the end of summer. He wasn’t inclined to grant it on such short notice, until I explained that it was so that I could introduce my family to my fiancée. He quickly reversed himself and congratulated me, said I could schedule what ever vacation time I needed. With that out of the way I just had to wait a couple of weeks, and of course, make one little phone call.
That night I phoned home and informed Mom that I would attend the reunion and that I was bringing a female guest. She was very happy and anxious to see me, a little too anxious. I wondered if she had figured out what I was up to and came to the conclusion that she probably had, considering that I’ve never really been able to put one over on her. All was in place.
The intervening days dragged by but eventually passed. Barbara was to take an early morning flight to New York City a couple of days before the reunion. The reason was two fold, first it would allow her to adjust to the time difference in stages. Second, it would give me a chance to show her some of the Big Apple’s hidden gems unknown by the vast majority of tourists. I meet her at the airport and escorted her to the hotel where she had reserved a room. After she settled in, we took off on an explore of the surrounding area until the afternoon.
I wanted to take Barbara to some place special for a late lunch, a little café off the beaten path that a young woman had taken me to on my first trip to New York. Outside it was a small unassuming place known only to a select group. Inside it had an old beatnik and jazz atmosphere, filled with local musicians and their fans. Music would spontaneously popup from anywhere at anytime, and on this particular day, the joint was really jumpin’. We found a small vacant table off to the side, sat down and ordered lunch. Barbara was quickly swept up by the music and in no time was bobbing and swaying to the beat. This was something uniquely American that she had not experienced before and was determined to enjoy every last nuance.
It continued to get better and better as some of the more widely known names put in an appearance and started up a jam session. Barbara was having the time of her life, and I was glad to be along for the ride. It was perfect and I felt that nothing could spoil the moment. But as some wise and long dead Chinese guy has probably already said, "For every yin there is an equal and opposite yang". For me, that yang came in the form of a very familiar voice emanating from a very cute young woman, the very one who had introduced me to the cafe a few years prior.
"Tom! I can’t believe it. Imagine running into you, after all these years, and in here of all places."
"Tia, um, this is an unexpected surprise. Wow, um, it’s good to see again."
"You don’t sound too happy to see me. Perhaps you think I will create an awkward situation for you with your friend here."
"Friend, oh right, Tia I’d like you to meet Barbara, my um, fiancée. Barbara this is Tia, the young woman I have alluded to in past stories."
"Fiancée, wow, congrats. So, Tom has actually mentioned me to you."
"Thank you, and yes, I have heard quite a lot about you, although it appears that Tom seems to have left out a rather obvious detail."
The tone in Barbara's voice indicated that she had taken a jealous disliking to Tia. Tia's response and tone said that a cat fight was a brewing.
"There might be something else he hasn’t told you about, but it’s probably better if you don’t know."
"If you are referring to his training in the bedroom or on the runway, I am fully aware of both, and I must thank you for the former."
"Tom, you told her about Tommie? That’s wasn’t a wise thing to do."
"Actually, I didn’t, it was Barbara’s friend who discovered the connection. Not to worry, they are both sworn to secrecy."
"Not entirely Tom, you do remember that there is still the small matter of Jane’s and my price for silence."
"Oh Tom, what have you gotten yourself into? Barbara, I’m curious as to how your friend discovered Tom’s little secret, but I think it best if we move to some place more private first, say, my apartment?"
"I think that’s a good idea. Shall we go Tom?"
Like I had a choice. We left the cafe and walked to Tia’s apartment. On the way, both Barbara and Tia retracted their claws, a result of each knowing something about my "secret life" the other didn't and wanting to know just what the other did. We arrived at Tia’s apartment building and proceeded along a very familiar path to her apartment. But there the familiarity ended. Upon entering her apartment we were greeted by a stark white and chrome interior.
"This is quite a change from the last time I was here."
"Yeah, well, I’m working a lot more than I was back then and am constantly surrounded by wild, bold, colors and patterns so much that I needed a sanctuary where I could escape it all. This may seem like an opposite extreme, but is actually very calming for me. Come on in and have a seat. So, Barbara, It looks like we can swap stories about Tom’s secret life."
Tia began by filling Barbara in on most, but thankfully, not all of the sorted little details that I kind of left out of the tales I beguiled her with. Barbara reciprocated by telling of Jane’s discovery. She started with Jane’s suspicions of having seen me before when we visited her in Paris. She then followed with the discovery of the source of Jane’s suspicions in Jane’s London flat. She ended with my being forced to prove it all by way of a subsequent private modeling session. Judging by Tia reaction I was in for some teasing.
"Why Tom, have you been practicing your modeling skills? And to think I believed you when you said that it was a one time thing and only because you needed the money. Hey, we should pay Miss T a visit; she just might have some work for you."
"No thanks, I make an adequate living as a stockbroker as it is."
"I wonder if that is what you really want. With all the dress up you’ve been doing, it sounds to me that you are taking my suggestion of becoming a female impersonator to heart. Wouldn’t you say so Barbara?"
"Actually, he was offered just such a job at the dance school, but turned it down. As I recall, he tried to put up a stern protest, but just between us girls, I wasn’t buying it."
"Et tu, Barbara? And I thought you and Jane weren’t going to tell anyone about the dance school."
"Why not? You admitted to having had fun. Besides its no big deal, it’s a British thing as you pointed out once before."
"As I recall, that crack got me into trouble."
"Trouble you enjoyed and, I might add, still enjoy."
"Barbara, I can’t believed you got Tom to dance the can-can, and in front of an audience too. I would have loved to have seen that."
Tia turned toward me and let loose with some hoots and hollers, a loud wolf whistle, and an 'ooh baby'. Barbara enjoyed a good laugh. I stared at Tia then leaned in intending to give her my Daffy Duck impression, calling her disssspicable (complete with spit) but Barbara warned her off. I turned to Barbara and called her a spoilsport. She just looked at me sporting that damnable Cheshire cat's grin. I leaned towards her, but she fended me off and turned to Tia.
"Actually Tia, you can get a glimpse of it. Jane had a photo taken of the three of us posing on stage. I would be most happy to send you a copy. He makes a rather cute woman you know, at least back then."
"I'd love it, thank you Barbara. And I've got just the place to hang it. It's just around that corner next to something that I think will spark memories of Tom’s visits here."
I did not like the sound of that. Curiosity compelled me to investigate but Barbara beat me to it. She sprang up from the couch and practically raced around the corner. She stepped back from the wall in question with a look of surprise. She brought both hands together and up to her mouth. Then she turned and came at me with a big smile, trying to keep from laughing. I no longer needed to see what it was as there was only one thing that would cause Barbara to react as she had. I stopped and started to back away, but Barbara would have none of that. She took me by the wrist and dragged me around the corner.
It was as I had feared, "it" being an advertising poster that has caused me trouble on two continents. While I stared at that cursed poster, Barbara moved over to Tia and the two of them started to whisper. Thoughts of "No good from this, shall come." ran through my mind. They turned and started toward me, each sporting that cursed, damnable, Cheshire cat's grin.
"As I recall, the last time we saw this placard, you were to pay a penalty of sorts with a girl's night out, but it had to be put on hold due to time constraints."
"Come on Barbara, surely the statute of limitations has run out by now."
"No such luck I’m afraid."
"Well, I don’t see where you have any leverage to use against me this time."
"Your mistaken, for you see the alternative from back then is still in effect as well."
"You don’t mean . . ."
"I do indeed. Jane would be free to tell her Tommie obsessed sister all about the real Tommie Girl, and since we will undoubtedly run into Judy now and again, well, I shall leave the consequences to your imagination."
"So, it's come down to blackmail, has it?"
"Blackmail is such an ugly word, but essentially correct, yes. Now Tia has assured me that she can transform you into Tommie. Since it's going to take some time to do so, I’m going on a bit of an explore."
"You’re going to leave me alone with a stunningly cute young woman with whom I’ve spent a fair amount of sack time with in the past?"
"I say, what…? Oh I see. Yes, I suppose I am, but then again, I doubt if the two of you will have any time for that sort of thing."
Of course I wouldn’t dream of engaging Tia in "that sort of thing" and Barbara knew it. I was also feeling pretty smug about being transformed into Tommie. I was no longer as fair of face as I had been a few years back and I had also added a fair amount of mass as well. And, while Tia might be able to make me up as an older, less anorexic version of Tommie, there was no way I could fit into her clothes as I had in the past. If anything, Tia had gotten thinner over the last few years. I stood a better chance of fitting into Barbara’s things except all of her clothing was way too conservative for the Tommie look. Yep, Tommie was just not going to happen. Tia, not knowing that her efforts were going to be wasted, proceeded to lead me to her bedroom where she got to work.
Makeup was first and it went pretty much the same as on past sessions with Tia except she seemed to apply the base layer a little heavier this time. It also took a lot longer to achieve the effect Tia was trying to capture. It went different with my hair. Barbara liked my hair on the long side while the brokerage required that I keep it trimmed to a more normal length. I was constantly adjusting its length in an attempt to please both. Since I was going to be spending time with Barbara, I had allowed my hair to be on the long side. Tia looked it over and reached for the scissors.
After some trimming, a liberal application of hair gel, and some further styling, Tia pointed me to the mirror. The transformation was even more startling than anything before. The rough male edges I had finally developed had been reduced to a hint of boyishness. My hair was short and very feminine with only a slight boyish style. The sides had a flowing, curved look. The back came straight down ending in a little flip curl just above the collar line. The front had the Tommie signature look. It swept across the forehead but this time it wasn’t flat against it, but slightly angled out into space, looking like the turned down visor of a cap. There was no mistaking Tommie, but she was no longer a teen. She had become a young woman and she was hot.
Barbara had timed her return almost perfectly. I was still fixated with the mirror when the doorbell rang. Tia left me to let Barbara in, with me following a short time later. I entered the living room as Barbara was reaching into a fancy shopping bag. A chill ran up my spine. This was something I hadn’t counted on. Barbara had sized up the situation and had gone shopping ... for Tommie.
From the bag she pulled out a bright purple dress suit that had a silver metallic sheen. The jacket was short in the bolero style, with the sleeves coming just short of the wrists. The neckline had a wide turned down collar. The right side of the jacket over lapped the left and fastened with a single large button just under the left collar, and inline with the left side of the neck, through the middle of the right collar. The edge of the right side swept down across the body to the right side just above the waist. The left side was a mirror image with most of it hidden under the right side. The collar, jacket edges and the end of the sleeves were edged with silver piping.
The upper half of the dress was a square neck sheath with princess seams. The skirt portion was short and really flared. It had the same style overlap as the jacket with the hem mirroring the jacket edges and hem, and of course edged with the same piping. It was both youthful and cutting edge, yet it had an air of sophistication. Tommie couldn’t wait to try it on and strut her stuff, but it looked like she would have to fight Tia for it first. As Tia inspected the outfit, Barbara turned toward me. She stared at me, not believing her eyes. She was so fixed on me that she almost didn’t hear Tia.
"Wow, Barbara, I wouldn’t have thought that place to carry anything as classy looking as this."
"I’m sorry, what, oh yes. Well actually, they didn’t exactly. After purchasing it, I took it to a tailor shop that hadn’t closed yet. I was quite successful in persuading them to slightly alter the cut of the jacket and skirt overlap, and had the piping added as well, all while I waited."
"You’ve got to let me try it on. Hey, how about a modeling contest? We’ll each take turns modeling it for the other two."
"Let’s keep it between you and Tom. I’m just not up to either one of your skill levels."
"No no, it’s got to be all three of us. Besides, if I can teach Tom enough in the short time before an in-house review, I can teach you. Come on, it’ll be fun."
"Oh, all right, but you go first."
Tia snatched up the outfit and headed for her bedroom. Her experience as a professional model was very apparent as she emerged from the bedroom in just minutes. She could possibly change outfits faster than a NASCAR pit crew could change all four tires on a race car. She had also accessorized the outfit. Tia had left the jacket unbuttoned reveling that the dress was a couple of sizes to big for her. To compensate, she had tied a long silver print scarf around her waist, giving a slight baggy look to the dress. A cab drivers cap and a pair of sneakers fit in with the rough casual look.
The outfit was okay, but neither Barbara nor I felt that it really worked. Tia put her skills to work and managed to sell it enough for me to suggest to Barbara that her friend Jane would like it. She neither agreed nor disagreed. At any rate it was her turn and she followed Tia into the bedroom.
It was some time before Tia emerged from the bedroom and she was wearing a new outfit. She had on a tight red miniskirt with a side slit almost to the waist. This was topped by a black silk, Chinese style top with a red dragon wrapped around it. It had a Mandarin collar, and was tight, form fitting, and overlapped the upper half of the skirt. She was dressed for a night out, and I knew what that meant for me.
Barbara came out soon after modeling the dress suit. She had the stately poise of a woman of her social status superimposed over the strutting walk of a model. It was a dynamite combination. The shortness of the dress didn’t seem to cause her much discomfort; indeed, she seemed to be embracing the idea of breaking out of her conservative social mold. Tia and I let loose a barrage of whistles and applause.
Barbara ate it up and tried to up the ante by attempting the exaggerated crossover step I had tried to teach her once before. She did a fair job, clearly she had been practicing. But as before, it degenerated into silliness and laughter. She came to me, took me by the hand, and led me to the bedroom picking up the shopping bag on the way. It was my turn.
Barbara stripped off the dress suit while I removed my clothes. From the bag, she produced panties, silver stockings, shoes, and a silver pocketbook. She had thought of everything. While Barbara slipped into her street clothes, I started to get dressed as Tommie. I found that I didn’t need any assistance, even with the back zipper of the dress. I was getting used to donning feminine attire. Barbara looked me over and nodded her approval. She left the bedroom to join Tia and I got ready for my entrance.
But first I had to get one more look in the mirror. I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The total look was amazing and that outfit was, well, let’s just say that for the second time in my life I was wearing something feminine that I didn’t want to take off anytime soon. I could have stood there a lot longer but Tommie didn’t want to. She had once again come out of retirement and wanted to greet the world.
Tommie came out in full runway strut, pushing everything to the limit and with attitude. Tia was speechless. She just couldn’t believe that her student had exceeded her training. Tia, beaming with pride, turned to Barbara.
"I taught him that."
"Yes, I know, and I must say you did a splendid job of it."
"He seems to be enjoying himself and that outfit you created is perfect for the Tommie look."
"And you have done well turning him into a stunning young woman. I am of the opinion that we simply must show off our work."
"Oh, I agree, and I know just the club."
Tia whispered something to Barbara who nodded her head in agreement. Barbara turned to me.
"Right, shall we be off then Tommie?"
I didn’t need to be asked a second time. I wanted to go. I wanted to see if I could still fool people into thinking I was a girl. One little detail had been forgotten, but it didn’t matter as Tommie was in control and she wanted to have some fun. We left the apartment and made our way down to the street where a cab was hailed. We climbed in and Tia gave the cabby our destination.
It was about a half hour ride into the more upscale part of the city. Evening was taking over and the city was coming alive under bright lights. Tommie was becoming a little less sure of her self. We turned onto a busy street lined with upscale clubs and restaurants. The cab pulled up to the curb in the middle of it all. There were people everywhere, lots of people. Anxiety was taking hold, and I wondered if I could leave the relative safety of the cab. Actually, there wasn’t much choice as I had gotten in last and Tia and Barbara more or less forced me from the cab, that is, after I got stuck with the cab fare.
We paused for a moment and surveyed the club. It seemed to be made mostly of glass and bright lights. There were tables outside as well as inside with the glass walls making the two areas look like one. It was filled with young people, too many for my comfort. Anxiety now had a full grip on me. I was quickly convincing myself that I couldn't do it. But there was no turning back. Barbara and Tia ushered me through the doors.
Inside, I looked for a table in some out of the way corner. Then I spotted a couple of young women who looked familiar. They were models and I was remembering them from a fashion premier Tommie had been part of. Looking over the room, I spotted others that had the look of professional models, both male and female. Just then, a young woman spotted me from across the room and made a beeline for me.
"Oh my gosh! It's you! You're really her! Hey, everybody, It's TOMMIE GIRL!"
Instant panic. I backed towards the door only to find it blocked by Barbara and Tia. I turned my head looking at each in turn and found that both of them had big smiles on their faces. I had been set up and there was nothing I could do but face the onslaught and pray my secret wouldn't be exposed. But I had little to fear, as the Tommie Girl line wasn’t all that well known having come from a small fashion house. Still, there were enough fans to surround me and each was eager to tell me how much they had loved the clothes and look. That was good as it meant that I didn't have to do any talking, the one thing that I had forgotten about before starting the adventure. I was going to have to avoid conversation as I didn't think I could pull off a female voice.
I noticed that each young woman was sporting their version of the Tommie look and a few were even wearing actual clothes from the line. Of course Tommie's current look was given close scrutiny and received rave reviews. I have no doubt that the following day would see many of them trying to copy Tommie's new look. Someone produced a cartridge type camera and all of Tommie’s fans wanted their picture taken with her. I struck various poses, all based on the Tommie look and attitude. Barbara and Tia just had to get a picture with me and I had no doubt that a copy would end up in Judy’s hands.
The photo shoot went well, until a young man approached me wanting a picture with me. I was about to strike a pose next to him when he put his arm around my waist and forcefully pulled me to him. That I had not expected.
I was about to push myself away from him, when a familiar feeling swept over me. It was a felling I had last experienced in Paris when an amorous waiter propositioned me while I was dressed and made up as a Can-Can dancer. I turned toward him and pressed my upper body against his side. I ran my right hand up his back to the top of his near shoulder. I ran my left hand up the front of his chest and placed it on the far side of his face. I raise my lower left leg behind me, then turning my head to the camera. I gave my signature look and tried to add a bit of sultriness.
After the photo, the young man thanked me, and then tried to sneak a kiss! I started to play along, but then pushed him away, wagging no-no with my finger and head. I reinforced things by placing my left hand on my hip then pushed my hip toward him. With my nose high in the air, I turned away from him. The crowd teased and laughed at him. But I had the feeling that as I had in the past, I had gone too far. Other young men now wanted their picture taken with me. Fortunately, they all behaved themselves and there were no further incidents.
Things could have easily turned ugly as there were a couple of large strong looking men watching us. It was enough to make Barbara uneasy, and she decided that it was time to put an end to Tommie’s fun. On one hand, Tommie was having the time of her life and wanted to continue. On the other hand, the threat of exposure was a constant worry and I welcomed being rescued. Excuses were made for me and the three of us moved off to a vacant table in the back. I felt that I had to admonish them for their treacherous doings, dragging me to a club frequented by models and their fans. But it came out halfhearted, and I doubt if either of them took me seriously.
The evening continued with little incident. We had a light dinner and drinks. After which Tia moved off to socialize with people she knew. Outside of a few fans, Tommie was pretty much unknown, which suited me just fine. Still, now and then, a young woman would stop by and strike up a brief conversation. I gave a female voice my best shot and I guess I did alright as it didn’t seem to arouse any suspicions.
That gave me some new found confidence and Barbara and I hit the dance floor. A young man sort of joined us and I found myself dancing more with him than Barbara. Tommie asserted her self once again and got in a couple more dances with other young men during the evening. Tommie was having fun, but I managed to keep her under enough control to keep her out of trouble.
Eventually we called it a night and returned to Tia’s apartment where Tommie was forced back into retirement with Barbara’s help. She trimmed my hair so as to be less feminine, and did a good job of it, but I would still need to visit a barber before leaving New York as Mom liked my hair on the short side. We bid Tia a goodnight and headed back to the hotel.
We spent the next day and night exploring more of New York. Barbara was amazed at just how much had been hidden from her as a tourist. She especially liked the varied street food venders. We returned to the hotel after midnight, but somehow managed to get enough sleep to be able to get up for our morning flight to Seattle and the reunion at my parents house.
The family reunion went a lot better than I had expected. Mom had been the first to greet us and her eyes went straight to Barbara’s ring finger. She had indeed figured out what we were up to, although the ring’s strange shape caused her to pause and wonder. It didn’t matter as Mom had taken an instant liking to Barbara and spirited her away to introduce her to the rest of the family.
Barbara’s charm quickly won over the entire clan and it seemed that each member had a favorite (and usually embarrassing) story about my childhood that they wanted to regale her with. She had some good laughs at my expense. The stories finally ran out just as all gathered for the big feast.
It was when dinner was coming to an end that we sprang our engagement on the assembled family. Mom was the only one who wasn’t surprised and led everyone in welcoming Barbara into the family. At Barbara’s insistence I had brought the box with the remaining rings. I pulled it from my pocket and gave it to Barbara. She took off her engagement ring and put it back with the wedding ring. Then, as she had done at Lord W____’s, she showed the assembled set to all. She returned and handed the box back to me. I removed the engagement ring and put it on her finger for the second time. We embraced and kissed to a chorus of cheers and applause, and a couple of tears of joy from Mom.
Everyone wanted to know when and where the wedding would take place. We didn’t exactly have an answer for them. Setting a date was a bit of a problem as there was still the matter of Barbara’s family. Neither of us really felt we could get married until I was fully accepted by her family. We would just have to wait until that day came, no matter how long that would take. But for once, fate was on my side.
It was on one of my previous trip to London that Barbara had introduced me to the family financial manager, Simon S____, seeing as how we were in pretty much the same business. Simon and I struck a friendship and I made it a point to visit him and talk shop on each occasion that I was in London. It was a friendship that was about to get me in good with Barbara’s family.
It was about four months after our engagement that a seemingly minor political conflict spread through Eastern Europe. It didn’t look like it would have much of an impact on the obvious market sectors and that was confirmed by my connections at the Frankfurt exchange about an hour before the European markets closed. What wasn’t foreseen was its impact on an apparently unrelated sector; one that Barbara’s family had a goodly amount invested in. There wasn’t time to analyze why, I had to warn Simon before the real impact hit the London exchange.
Simon was able to take defensive action on his client’s accounts with very little loss, just before the London exchange closed. He gave a full account to Barbara’s family. From that day on, I was no longer just a stockbroker, but a man with worldly connections, adding a new level of power to the family. The last barrier had been breached. I was accepted into the family and we quickly set the wedding date. It would be in the summer of ’74.
Barbara’s parents wanted her to honor tradition and get married in the family chapel. She agreed as long as we could keep the wedding small. That suited me just fine, as the logistics of getting just the immediate family together, transported to London, affordably housed, and suitably entertained until the wedding promised to be more than I could handle. But handle it I did, with a lot of help from Mom.
The preparations and events leading up to the wedding went as the vast majority of weddings do. There were the usual last minute problems and chaos. While most of it is thankfully a blur, there were two events that have remained clear in my mind.
The first was Barbara’s bridal shower, hosted by Jane at her London flat. I escorted the womenfolk from my side of the family to Jane’s flat using a couple of taxis. I led them up and into Jane’s flat with me intending to stay only as long as it took to say hi to Jane. The flat was crowded and while I looked around for Jane, Mom spotted Barbara in the kitchen entrance and moved towards her. But she didn’t make it. When she got to the wall next to the kitchen, she stopped and stared at it. A cold chill ran up my spine. The poster, that cursed poster, I had forgotten all about it. Mom knew about Tommie Girl, having penetrated the disguise on her own, back before I even knew of the existence of a Tommie Girl ad. We had had an, interesting, conversation about it; during which I had a time of it trying to convince her that it was just a job and nothing more. It was one conversation that I did not want to repeat with other family members or with Barbara’s family and friends.
As Mom looked at the wall, a smile appeared on her face. Then she turned toward the kitchen and engaged Barbara in conversation. Barbara laughed a little, and then playfully struck some sexy poses that had a familiar look to them, echoed by Jane further back in the kitchen. Curiosity took control, compelling me to examine the wall. I maneuvered around the crowded flat until I could see the wall without being seen from the kitchen.
What was hanging on the wall wasn’t the Tommie poster. But any relief was quickly overruled by a new wave of dread. The poster had been replaced by a large blowup of the can-can photo. I was in the process of working myself into a new panic when it dawned on me that Mom hadn’t turned to look at me, but had instead turned to Barbara. She hadn’t made the connection. For the first time in my life, I (with a lot of help from Jane) had put one past her.
I must have been strutting around like the proverbial roster in a hen house, feeling oh so proud of myself. Fortunately it quickly dawned on me that if Mom were to come out of the kitchen and spot me in such a state, she would figure out the real identity of the third woman in the photo. I adapted a low profile and slinked out of the flat.
The other event of note was, of course, Barbara coming down the aisle looking incredible in a vintage Victorian era wedding gown. It had been in her family for many generations and had been worn by most of the women on her mother’s side of the family. It was so elaborate, so ornate that it would take too many pages to describe. It shouted Old World elegance from the high buttoned collar of the lace upper bodice, down past the extensive bead work to the cinched waist, to the end of the very long lace flower covered train. In short take everything one has ever seen or desired in a Victorian wedding gown, combine it all into one dress, and one would have the beginnings of Barbara’s gown.
After the wedding, Barbara of course moved to the US, keeping her London house as a vacation and holiday house. She adapted quickly to life here and had no trouble making friends. One such friend happened to be involved in a community theatrical group and sponsored her membership. Barbara’s theatrical experience in London was recognized as a great asset to the group and she was unanimously accepted.
With Barbara as producer, the group enjoyed a new wave of success. Her abilities as a producer and actress did not go unnoticed. Soon, she was being approached to handle production of plays by theatrical groups in surrounding communities. I was proud of Barbara and gave her my full support even though it sometimes meant that we would have to be apart for awhile. What I didn’t know was that one play would end up launching me on my most intense adventure, but that was several years off.
In the mean time we got to work on our family. Our first born was a girl and she clearly took after Barbara. I insisted on naming her Samantha. Barbara was curious as to why, but I gave her only what I thought I could get away with, keeping an air of mystery. She wasn’t totally satisfied and I knew that I would pay for it, just not that day. Our second child, a boy, followed a couple of years later. He had many of my features and some from Barbara’s side of the family. Barbara chose the name of Tristan and it was her turn to play the mystery game. Over the years, neither of us has completely reveled the full reason for our choice in names and it’s probably for the best.
The kids proved to be a handful as they grew up. Barbara was amazing, she not only took care of the kids (with some help from me in the evening and weekends), she still found time for her theatrical passion. The kids also developed a thirst to explore and our summer vacations became more oriented to the kids needs than ours. The summer of ’83 gave us a chance to satisfy both their needs and ours.
That year, the family reunion was to be at my aunt and uncle’s farm in the Midwest. They wanted us to arrive a month early so the kids could fully experience being on the farm and Barbara and I could make a romantic side trip without the kids. It sounded good, but our plans got thrown for a loop when Barbara was asked to help out producing a rather different kind of play in a small city a couple hundred miles from us.
She fell in love with the play’s concept and wanted to do it. That meant that we couldn’t visit my aunt and uncle early, and might miss the reunion if the play ran more than a week. I called my aunt and let her know the change in plans. She, however, had an idea.
She suggested that we send the children to them just before work on the play started. That way they could spend most of the summer on the farm playing and working with their cousins, and we could devote our attention on the play and some on ourselves. Barbara liked the idea and we accepted the offer.
With help from the theatrical group, we found something similar to a boarding house where we could book a room on a weekly basis. A spinster great aunt of mine, who lived in a community that was on the way to the airport, enthusiastically volunteered to fly back to the farm with the "little dears" as she put it. With all arrangements made, we set forth on what would become yet another unusual summer adventure.
We saw my aunt and the kids off at the airport, and then drove on to our own destination. I took it easy and arrived late in the afternoon. The boarding house was a charming place with a feel like it was stuck in a different, simpler time. We settled in, and then joined the few other guests in a communal homemade dinner and some interesting conversation.
The next day we set off for the theater. We arrived backstage and were let in. What greeted us was the strangest assemblage of people I have ever witnessed. There were street performers who must have materialized out of some Twilight Zone Gong Show, including a couple of oddly dressed musicians with even odder instruments that one more or less wore. There was even royalty in the form of a man who proudly proclaimed to be the King of North America, and a woman who professed to be the Queen of Saturn complete with a hooded, caped, metallic cloth costume with a huge wide collar resembling the rings of Saturn. Rounding things off were several people who led totally bizarre lives. I was beginning to wonder just what kind of play Barbara had gotten roped into.
The woman, who let us in, escorted us to a place to check in and meet those who were trying to put on the play. Everyone introduced themselves in turn, then handed us a copy of the script. Barbara couldn’t wait to dig into it. I had a problem with the title.
The play was titled "A look at some of the screwballs of New England." I felt it was insensitive to those who were putting their life on public display. So what if they didn’t fit in with the norm, they still deserved to be treated with respect. I sought out and engaged the plays creator in what soon grew into a heated discussion. A woman, who was one of the stranger members of the cast, came over and wedged herself between us. She looked up at me and tried to calm me down.
"It’s all right, we don’t mind a bit. The vast majority of people think we are crazy and a few think we should be locked away. But we’re not really crazy, it’s just that none of us liked the reality everyone else lives in, so each of us created one of his or her own liking and moved in. If no one wants to join any of us, it doesn’t matter. We may be alone but we are still generally happy all the time. Can anyone in the so called normal reality say the same?"
She had me there. And, I guess if they didn’t have a problem with the title, then I certainty shouldn’t. Her speech also got me to look at these people in a new light and one in particular. I will call him Brian.
By day Brian was a common working stiff. He looked just like everyone else around him. There was nothing about him that would cause anyone to pick him out from the crowd. But come night and that would change dramatically. As soon as he got to his downtown apartment from work he would begin transforming himself into someone I shall call Brandy.
Brian was more than a cross-dresser, he was a street performer. And he usually took to the street imitating some female celebrity, past or present. The vast majority of onlookers knew it was a female impersonator. That didn’t bother him a bit, it just added to his fun while he played at the gender he really wanted to be. He was proud of his ability to become Brandy and that presented a problem.
The purpose of the play was to give each performer their fifteen minutes of fame, literally. During their brief time on stage, they would show the rest of us who they were and what they were about. The format fit everyone except Brian. For him, it wasn’t so much as looking and acting as a woman, but the transformation into a woman that was important. It was a process that often took up to two hours to complete. It just didn’t fit into the play. Still, no one wanted to drop him from the play. I joined those trying to put on the play and sat down to try and figure out an alternative. That’s when an idea hit me.
"I may have an idea. What if instead of giving Brian a solid block of ten to fifteen minutes to show a two hour process, why not break it up into many smaller pieces to be inserted between each of the other performers. It would be like checking back with him from time to time to see how far along he has come."
"That’s fine except for one thing. Changing the background and props for each performer is enough of a problem. Having to double that is just not only physically challenging, but will stretch out the play to the point where the audience is going to get bored and may even walk out."
"Actually, it could help you with that problem. Brian’s scene can be created at one side of the stage and partitioned off from the rest of the stage. When the play is on Brian, just light his scene leaving the rest of the stage dark or behind curtains. Do the reverse when the play is on someone else. It also gives you free time to set the stage for the next performer while the attention is on Brian."
"But, what about the noise from the stage hands?"
"What about it? Brian’s scenes are all visual, not verbal. But if the sound is objectionable, then we can overplay with street sounds. I understand that his real room overlooks the streets he performs on."
"It’s brilliant and it could work."
"There’s one last idea. At the end of Brian’s last scene, we can have him exit his room onto the street and be joined by all of the other performers, each doing what ever it is they do."
"Perfect, I’ll get to work on the script changes."
"Wait you two, I’ve got one question. How does he apply makeup in the dark? I don’t know about him, but I need a bank of lights to apply my makeup."
"Simple Gale, he doesn’t. When he isn’t on, he slips off stage via a light trap to an adjacent makeup table and continues his work there. Then slips back on stage just before the lights switch to him."
"Okay, but how does he get off stage without knocking over anything or injuring himself?"
"We place glow in the dark tape in strategic places out of view of the audience but easy spotted by Brian."
"That could work. We’ll have to rebuild the stage scenery a bit, but I think it’s doable."
The changes were voted on and approved. Brian got to work on adapting his routine to fit the revised script. I became fascinated with what Brian was doing and somewhat envious. Each time I had been made-up as a girl or woman, it had been at the hands of someone else and I didn’t see what was happening. He was able to do it himself and he was more than just good at it. It was mesmerizing, and I wanted to watch and learn, but I couldn’t just pull up a chair and stare. Engaging him in a conversation about how and why Brandy came about while he worked out his routine seemed to be the perfect excuse. It would prove to be useful in ways I could not have foreseen.
He would talk freely and at great lengths about Brandy, but would slam the door shut at the mere mention of Brian. He wasn’t even using his real names in the play. It was as if he wanted to keep Brian and Brandy complete strangers to each other, and didn’t want anyone to make the connection between the two. That I could relate to.
Our conversations came to an abrupt end when Brian failed to show up for a couple of rehearsals with no word as to why. He had been nursing a cold, but it hadn’t been sever enough to keep him home, although it hadn’t been getting any better. One of the group members took it upon herself to try and find him. She eventually located him at the local hospital, but couldn’t get any information over the phone. I volunteered to go to the hospital and see what was what.
At the hospital, after no small amount of effort, I located the ward Brian was in. He was weak and pale. When he realized I was standing beside him, he tried to raise his hand but had to let it fall back down. Clearly, he was in no condition to receive visitors. I passed word to the attending nurse that I wished to see the doctor if he was in the building. I pulled up a chair and sat down next to Brian to try and keep him company.
The doctor was in the building and upon receiving my message came to the ward. He motioned me to follow him to a place where we could talk in private. From him I learned that Brian had been admitted the previous evening with what was diagnosed as multiple viruses. It was something I hadn’t heard of before. The doctor explained that it was rare and usually found in patients with a weak or non existent immune system. Brian, it was discovered, had AIDS. The doctor said that his system was so weak that there was virtually no chance of recovery and all that could be done was to just keep him comfortable. Forget politics; forget morality; forget fair, this just plain wasn’t right.
I stormed from the hospital with anger welling up inside me. I had to walk it off before returning to the theater and let everyone else know what was happening. No one felt like working on the play for the rest of the day and the next. And when everyone did get back to work, there was a new problem waiting for them. What to do about Brian’s spot in the play?
None of the other performers wanted to drop Brian from the play. All felt his story should be told, even more so now. But the question was how to go about replacing him? Brian/Brandy was rather unique in that part of New England and he/she was the only cd. who wanted to be in the play. An actor would have to be brought in, but could one be found that had experience portraying a man becoming a woman? Barbara had an idea and approached me with it that evening back at our boarding house room.
"You know of course that there is only one man who can step in for Brian, you."
"Me? You’ve got to be kidding. There is no way I could do what he does in front of an audience."
"Why not? You’ve been studying him, so you know what to do. And look at what you have done, and in public I might add. You have been a convincing woman in both looks and action on more than one occasion."
"Yeah, but very few, if any, of those watching knew I wasn’t a woman. This audience is going to be watching me, the REAL me, change into a woman, which, by the way, I can’t do myself. That is more than I can handle. Besides, I’ve got a life to return to afterwards."
"Roxy, our makeup lady, can do the bulk of the work when your off stage, and can teach you what you need to know to portray Brian on stage. You can also be made up to look more like Brian before your first appearance on stage."
"This is one I have got to think about."
"Give it a go tomorrow, then think about it."
I knew there wasn’t any use in arguing with her, and I knew she was right. Still, it was a giant step and I just didn’t think that there was enough time to prepare for it. We retired for the night, but my mind was active with this new problem, and it was a long time before I could fall asleep.
The following morning came all to fast. Barbara had a time of it getting me out of bed. I headed for the bathroom and made with my morning routine, shaving extra close. Of course, come show time, I was going to have to do more than just beard removal. Completing my task, I got dressed and we headed to the playhouse.
Barbara sought out Roxy and filled her in on what "we" had come up with. Roxy liked the idea, a little too much if you ask me. She had me follow her to Brian’s on stage makeup table, and then had me take off my shirt. She picked up an ample fake breast that was on the table and indicated for me to do the same. I was shown how to apply the adhesive to the fake breast, and then how to position it on my chest. The adhesive worked fairly fast, but instead of moving on to my face, she began applying a thick makeup base to my chest, demonstrating how to blend the form into my surrounding chest.
While I worked on my chest, Roxy disappeared. She appeared a couple of minutes later carrying a few disks containing flesh colored power. She held the disks up to me and selected one. She had me take a large brush and rub it in the powder. Then she instructed me in how to lightly brush over the base makeup. The result was shocking. I had sprouted boobs. At that point the lights would be switched and I would be slipping off stage, so we moved to the off stage table.
Roxy started applying the base makeup to my face, then the powder over it, and finally the detail work. Every fifteen minutes we moved back on stage for a brief time where she instructed me in what to do next. Then it was back stage again and so on. The end result was the most surprising transformation yet, mostly because I had had a hand in doing it. I was thrilled beyond description. I no longer had to think about it, I was in and ready to start my "career" as a female impersonator. Tia's career "suggestion" back when I was first transformed into Tommie came rushing back to mind. Boy, if she could only have seen me then, but then again, if she had, I never would have heard the end of it.
In the short amount of time left before the play opened, I perfected my makeup technique, at least my small end of it. I was still a long ways from doing it all by myself. What I did know, was how to get dressed and how to strut my stuff. I was ready for the play to open and nothing was going to bring me down. But in life, things don’t always go the way we want. Two days before the play opened, we all got word that Brian had died during the night. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place. I felt like someone with a huge fist had landed a haymaker to my chest. Barbara turned to Paul, who was taking care of the printed mater for the play.
"I think we should add a line to the program indicating that this play is dedicated to the memory of Brandy."
"Yeah, we can do that. I’ll just go take care of that."
That seemed to stir everyone back into action. They had a new reason to be ready by opening night. I had work to do as well. Brian had chosen Marilyn Monroe as the celebrity he wanted to transform into. I would keep that choice and would try and portray her exactly as Brian had done in rehearsal. Brian was larger and taller than me which meant that the dress would have to be altered to fit me. I wasted no time in finding the wardrobe mistress. Soon I was standing before her in a white, full skirted halter dress in full view of anyone who came by, and it didn’t bother me a bit. By the next morning the alterations were complete.
Everyone was ready for opening night and there was an air of excitement back stage. We had a good turnout, roughly three quarters full. The play opened without a hitch and soon it was my turn. Roxy had done an excellent job in making me look like Brian, and it was just the thing needed to give me the confidence to override my anxiety and enter from stage left. The bright lights limited my view of the audience making things easier yet. I walked across the stage looking like any other working stiff to my room, opened the door and entered. I closed the door, walked over to the table, then stripped to just my panties. Yes, panties, Brian had a preference for wearing them all the time. I sat down at the table and began my transformation until the lights went out.
All went as rehearsed, no one had any problems. It was a seamless performance and the audience seemed to enjoy the show. Soon it was time for my last scene. When the lights came on I was making like I was applying the last touches to my makeup. Mimicking Brandy, I raised my hands a little more than breast high with the palms tilted up to my face, turning my head one way then the other to inspect "my" work. Rising from the chair, I then walked to where the dress was hanging adding some sass to my walk. This time, I didn’t have to worry about going to far as it was just what was needed to accurately portray Brandy.
I took the dress off the hanger and stepped into it with a little wiggling motion. I slipped the halter strap over my head, and then reached behind me to zip up the dress. Returning to the table, I took a bleached blond 50’s style wig from a wig stand off to the side of the table. I slipped it on to my head and gave it a couple of passes with a brush. I picked up a pair of long white gloves and slipped them on, then reached for a pair of white hi-heeled shoes that were on the floor next to the table. I gave a Marilyn type pose and blew a kiss to the mirror, and headed for the door.
Just before the door, I paused to put on one of the shoes. Reaching toward the door, I took hold of the doorknob and steadied myself in order to slip on the other shoe. I opened the door and exited onto the main part of the stage which had a background of a city street scene. The rest of the cast came out and we all intermingled for a bit before turning to the audience, joining hands, and bowing. We were well received.
After the show, we had a backstage party to celebrate our successful opening night. I attended as Brandy still dressed as Marilyn and freely intermingled, posing for pictures with anyone. It was a weird feeling being around so many people, all of whom knew who I was, but treated me as something I wasn’t.
The next night we were greeted by just half an audience, I was disappointed, but it didn’t seem to bother the rest of the cast. We were received just as well by that audience as the first. The third and forth nights were about the same. On the fifth night, the audience was so small that we barely broke even. The sixth night’s ticket sales were nearly nonexistent and it was decided to close the show.
It was known that the play would have limited appeal, but no one thought it would be that bad. I guess that either people just didn’t want to acknowledge that there are those among us who didn’t wish to fit in, or were too uncomfortable to be around them. Or may be they were just jealous, as the "screwballs" seemed to lead a much happier life then they did.
I felt sorry for the rest of the cast, but didn’t need to. They were quite happy with what they got. The world of normal had, for a brief moment, seen just who they were and in a way, took part in their enjoyment. Each one slipped back into his or her own little world and headed back for their little piece of New England. It was also time for Barbara and me to head for the Midwest to join the kids and visit family. All in all, it had been one of the most memorable summers that I have had.
Barbara and I enjoyed many more summer vacations, both here in the States, and in England and Europe. Usually with the kids, but occasionally without. There was one more fateful summer vacation that would set the stage for our future.
It happened near the end of summer in ‘86. I felt that Samantha and Tristan were old enough to fully experience the wonders of a certain resort island off the Pacific Northwest coast. It just happened that that summer the family reunion was to be at my parent’s house. It was perfect; we could head for the Pacific Northwest a week early and visit the island before joining the reunion. With our game plan set we packed our bags and headed for the airport.
We flew in to Seattle and rented a car at the airport. After a beautiful, leisurely drive, we arrived at a small coastal town. Access to the island was by car ferry and I found the queue at the end of the main road. I parked at the end of the line and turned off the engine. The boat wasn’t there but we didn’t have long to wait for its return, although it was long enough for the kids to get restless and start pestering me with questions, especially about why we were sitting in a parked car. I just told them to wait and see.
The kids started to settle down once they spotted the boat approaching the dock. They went completely silent as they watched vehicles being driven off the boat and pass us on the road. They stared in utter amazement as I fired up the car and, after paying the fare, drove onto the boat. Their enthusiasm couldn’t be contained in the car, so we got out and moved to the side of the boat up by the bow to watch the crossing. Samantha and Tristan couldn’t believe what was happening. They were having the time of their young lives, and the adventures were just beginning.
It took just over twenty minutes to make the crossing. As the boat docked, we returned to the car and made ready to off load. I drove off the boat and across town to a bed and breakfast we had booked for a week’s stay. We settled in then went out to explore the town. The real adventures would continue the following day.
During the next few days that followed, the kids had a ball as we visited all of the places I had explored on my first visit so many years before. All that is, except for one. That one I saved for last. There was just one day left before we had to leave for my parent’s home, and it was time to start the best adventure of all. Barbara packed a lunch with items we purchased the night before from the local farmers market, while I retrieved a pair of garden clippers from my luggage and rounded up the kids. We piled into the car and made the short drive out of town.
I pulled up just short of a muddy ditch just past a very familiar house. As I got out of the car, I looked across the road at a house that was barely recognizable. It was the house my parents had rented on my first visit. It was in horrible shape and clearly abandoned. Sadness swept over me and I turned away. Barbara noticed the sudden change in my mood and tried to inquire as to why. I just smiled and said I would tell her later. Forcing myself into a more joyous mood, I retrieved the picnic bag from the trunk. I rallied the troops and led them down a narrow path along side the ditch.
We came to, what for me, was a very familiar creek and made our way upstream to a point where there were a few large rocks in the water. Suddenly, I broke into a run, and then jumped onto a rock in the stream. I crossed by leaping from rock to rock and scampered up the far bank. The kids caught on and quickly followed with Barbara following at a more cautious pace. Without pausing, I dashed into a narrow and twisted trail through the bushes. In places it was too overgrown to pass without getting tore up. The clippers I was packing took care of that.
The path ended at a wall of trees and bushes. The kids looked at me with a puzzled look, but before they could complain, I pointed down at what looked like a large rabbit hole. Tristan’s face lit up and he quickly dropped to his hands and knees. He disappeared into the hole with astonishing speed. Samantha wasn’t about to be out done by her brother and she dropped to the ground and disappeared just as quickly. Barbara gave me a look that said "you’ve got to be kidding". I passed the picnic bag to her, then pulled out the clippers and got to work enlarging the opening and passageway just enough for us to crawl in. I hadn’t even gotten fully inside before we could hear the kids screaming with delight and encouraging us to come join them.
The sight that greeted me upon entering was as spellbinding as the first time I had entered it. Barbara came up beside me, brushing herself off and was about to complain. But she didn’t. Instead, she just stared in wonder. She quickly realized why we crawled through the tight opening. Barbara wrapped her arms around mine, snuggled up to me, and asked:
"So, where’s the white rabbit?"
We walked around and watched the kids play and trample down the tall grass, eventually getting them to stop long enough to eat lunch. Sometime after lunch I got hold of Samantha and whispered something in her ear. She looked at a couple of large rocks under a tall tree and made a beeline for them. She quickly worked out the way to get on top of the largest and was jumping up to grab hold of an overhanging branch when Tristan spotted her. He ran to join his sister and in no time both were near the top of the tree enjoying the amazing view.
"Mom, Dad, you’ve got to come up here and see this."
"We will, but first you’ll have to come down as I don’t think there is enough room for all of us that high up."
"Aw okay, we’ll be down in awhile."
It was indeed awhile before the kids tired of the view and descended to resume their play. It was then our turn and I helped Barbara up the rocks and into the tree. The view that greeted us was the same one that had first greeted me. It was as if time had stood still. But of course it hadn’t and it was time for us to return to base and make ready for the mornings departure. We descended from our lofty perch, gathered up the kids and belongings, and headed back to the car.
With everyone and everything we had brought on board, I started up the car and made a u-turn to head back to town. The road was narrow and I ended up in the front yard of the abandoned house. Something on the ground caught my eye. It looked like an old sign that had been blown over, face down. Something welled up inside of me, compelling me to exit the car and run around to the sign. I flipped it over and stared at it. It read "For sale" and listed a phone number. I was hunting for a pen and paper when a woman across the street called out to me.
"Excuse me, if you’re interested in the house, I can call the owner for you. It shouldn’t take her more than ten minutes to come out here."
"Yes, I would like that. That’s very kind of you, thank you."
"Tom, what are you up to? What’s with you and this house?"
"Back when I was around the kids’ age my Mom and I spent the summer in this house with Dad visiting on the weekends. It was the second best summer of my life."
"What was first?"
"Why, the summer I met you, of course."
"Of course. You’re trying to butter me up so you can buy this house aren’t you?"
"Yes, yes I am."
"It’s in pretty bad condition."
"You’re right there, at least on the outside. Still, if the frame and roof are in good shape, then it shouldn’t take too much to turn it into a vacation house, if the price is right."
"The children do like it here, and I do have to admit that I like it here as well."
I smiled at Barbara, then kissed her and said something sweet and sappy. Samantha and Tristan let forth a chorus of "ewwww". Soon after the owner drove up and after an exchange of introductions, proceeded to show us the inside of the house.
The inside was like something out of an old mystery movie. The furniture that was still in the house, was covered with sheets and everything had a thick layer of dust. Cobwebs were in every room and hallway. Clearly it had been a long time since anyone had lived in it.
The house turned out to be in good condition on the inside. The roof was another matter. There were enough bad spots to make replacing the entire roof a wise choice. The kitchen and bathrooms needed to be modernized and the plumbing would likely need to be replaced. Of course, doing all that, it would make sense to bring the wiring up to code as well. I suspected that the outer walls didn’t have any insulation in them. That would be easy to fix once the dilapidated outer siding was removed. I was starting to add up the costs when the owner made us an offer.
"With the islands economy down for so long, this place isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. You’re the only ones to look at the place in years. So, I’ll tell ya what. I’ll sell ya the house for the value of the land, but on one condition, ya must restore the house back to the way it looked in better times."
Barbara and I looked at each other and replied together.
"Deal."
We followed the owner back to town and signed the papers. Of course that night Barbara and I lay in bed trying to convince each other that we had made the right decision and that all would turn out well. I figured that Dad would be able to advise us as to how to handle the renovation. After all, he had been through it before. He might even offer to oversee the project for us, since we lived on the other side of the country, and indeed that was the case. Dad’s offer took a lot of worry off our shoulders, although I still had to make a couple of cross-country flights to stay on top of things.
During the time it took to renovate our vacation house, the environment at the brokerage I worked for changed, and not for the better. Management was pushing churning of clients accounts. They instructed their brokers to con their clients into buying stock in companies that weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Then after a few weeks, advise these same clients to sell these stagnant stocks for a new set of going nowhere stocks, and so on. This generated a lot of commissions for the firm.
But this wasn’t enough for management. They became involved with a shady investment group in hype and dump schemes. The investment group would slowly acquire a couple million shares of a small, thinly traded company with a "gee wiz" technology for small change per share. Then they would tout this technology as something that would save mankind or the environment from this or that. They would then pay brokerages to alert their clients to this "breaking technology" creating a buying frenzy which would cause the stock’s price to explode. The investment group would sell into the frenzy pocketing profits that bordered on the unimaginable. Those who bought the stock would find that there weren’t any more buyers to push the price higher and would try to get out. This would cause the price to plummet sticking a lot of naive investors with huge losses and a near worthless stock.
Today’s internet trading has virtually (but not totally) eliminated the scam with brokerages. But beware, the scam appears to be alive and well and has moved to financial newsletter promos. A note for those who receive these mailings, the warning signs are in the required small print disclaimer. If it contains phrases like "to increase awareness in the featured company" or "paid advertisement by third party (or featured company)" or "is a shareholder in featured company holding x million shares that can be traded at any time" or anything remotely resembling that, then it could very well be a hype and dump scheme. Don’t chance it; just put the advertisement in the shredder.
I wasn’t about to expose my clients to these schemes, after all, I worked hard to earn their trust and wasn’t about to jeopardize that. Management took the position that those who didn’t comply would no longer have a job. I considered jumping to a competing firm, taking my clients with me. But it didn’t take long to realize that corruption was rapidly spreading through the investment business. It sickened me and I found myself wanting to get as far away from the business as I could. It was time to retire. I warned my clients to what was happening and said goodbye to them. Then I told my employer where to put their new policy and where they could go afterwards.
Of course, a quick appraisal of my position in life was then in order. Retirement at a relative young age wouldn’t be a problem as I had savings and investments that would see us to the end of my days. The renovations to our house in the northwest would soon be completed. Our current house was in a desirable neighborhood and would sell quickly, so getting far away from the industry wouldn’t be a problem either. Barbara proved to be very supportive and proud of my decision.
She seemed to be happy about moving across the country even though it meant being farther from England. She said that it would be a better place to raise the children. She would be proven to be right. Tristan and Samantha were torn between having to leave their friends, and living in an island wonderland. In the end, the island’s promised adventures won out and they agreed to the move. We sold our house, put our worldly possessions in the care of a moving company, and headed for the Pacific Northwest.
The kids quickly adapted to our new home. New friends were made and they all set about exploring every square inch of the island. Samantha became spellbound by the wonders of the tidal zone. She quickly realigned her school classes and studies. Tristan was more interested in the island’s interior, particularly the many creeks and streams. He was never happier then when he would hike up a waterway to its source, taking note of how it interacted with the natural environment, farm lands, and towns. Like his sister, he realigned his school classes and studies.
I also had an exploration of sorts of my own in the first couple of years on the island. I wanted to find out what happened to a childhood friend, a young girl named Sam. She had discovered and introduced me to the hidden clearing. She had also set me off on what would become a series of unusual summertime adventures. A search of public records and interviews with people who might have known Sam and her mom yielded virtually nothing. They had moved to the mainland but no one knew where. I did do some searching in mainland cities and towns close to the coastline when the opportunity presented itself. It was always a long shot that never came in.
My efforts didn’t go unnoticed by Barbara. I explained it away as just looking for a childhood playmate without going into details. Fortunately I realized early on that the search was futile and didn’t let it become an obsession. After a couple of years I dropped the search completely. Still, there was one last possibility. The special clearing might work its magic and draw Sam back to the island for a visit. It hasn’t yet, it might still happen, but now it doesn’t look like I’ll be around to see it if it does.
As the years rolled by, Samantha’s and Tristan’s passions for nature grew and has carried both of them through many years of college and post grad studies. Of course the islands educational system could only take them so far. To continue their studies the kids had to attend college, and that meant leaving the island. They quickly adapted to being on their own and never really returned home. During the couple of summers that each did come home, it felt more like they were just visiting. Our kids had grown up.
Samantha is fast becoming a recognized name in the field of tidal zone exploration and protection. She now works for a university research group with various on going marine projects. It was there that she found that special someone and after a year of dating and occasionally working together, they married. They wasted no time starting on a family of their own.
Tristan has become an environmental engineer and works as a consultant to natural resource development companies who care about what they do to the environment. He found his wife to be at a small, but growing, mining company with operations scattered throughout the Southwest and Mexico. She is mostly of Original Native American heritage and possesses a stately beauty that has captivated Tristan. She has an even greater passion for the environment than he. They married within a year of meeting and about a year latter, got to work on their family.
Grandchildren, has anything better ever been invented? Barbara and I don’t think so and we have always looked forward to a summer with a house filled with boisterous, happy children that couldn’t seem to stand still long enough for us to see how much they’ve grown. With us and their parents, they explored all the wonders the island had to offer, save one that was always kept for last and at just the right time. The secret clearing, it has never ceased to captivate and hopefully never will.
As I look around this wondrous clearing, the adventures that I experienced here and elsewhere come flooding back to mind. All too soon they will be lost forever. There was something I felt I had to do, but I didn’t exactly know why, after all, my adventures are not exactly normal. To that end I had added a few extra items to a lunch bag before coming to the clearing. I knew it was going to take a while, and there were going to be long periods when I wouldn’t be able to work. Heck, I may not even be able to finish, but I had to try. And it was time. I reached into the bag and withdrew a comp book and a pen. I shifted to a more comfortable position on the rock, opened the book and with pen in hand began to write. The title was easy:
It was a summer vacation filled with adventure, discovery, and wonder. The time was the late 1950’s. The place was a resort island in the Pacific Northwest . . .