Alexs Story

Alex's Story

by Lisa Paige

That I as a Junior should be going to Seniors Night at the biggest amusement park in the state was something of a miracle - or even a collection of miracles. I had volunteered for the "Social Committee" as a way of meeting new kids at the high school. It seemed like a pretty lame idea at first: I did all the grunt work for Heather, the senior girl who was planning the all the graduation activities. She and the others on the committee treated me pretty much like dirt and loaded all the work on me. They sat around and chatted while I made all the calls, struck all the bargains and pretty much did everything.

The first real miracle came when Heather came down with Mono just two weeks before the big bash. I was the only one who knew the contacts and the arrangements, so I had to go along as the representative for my school. Enter the second miracle - a couple of "angels," you might say. Word got around that I could get people into the bash as "helpers" - and I definitely needed help. The other girls on the social committee had served notice that this was their night to party, and they had no intention of helping a lowly underclass boy. Pat and Jennifer were Juniors who went to the ritzy private school on the West Side, and they weren't a part of the Bash. To make it more interesting, their boyfriends were already gone - to some football training camp run by the Ivy League school they had signed with. When Pat and Jennifer volunteered to be my personal helpers for the night, I didn't think twice, even though I had most of the work delegated out already. Did I mention that Pat and Jennifer were the foxiest girls I had ever seen?

The only real hitch was the car. I had to have the car to get me and the girls to the park and back, and Mom already had plans for the night. We had a custom, Mom and me, of making deals for things like this. "Tit for Tat" sort of. I had to come up with something big for this one, and after a little pondering, I hit on a deal I knew she wouldn't refuse. I'm not sure which of us came up with the final wording, but it went something like this: I would get unlimited use of the car (with gas supplied) for the evening, and Mom would get my unquestioned obedience for one month thereafter. Yes, it was a pretty open-ended bargain on her part, but I really needed that car. Being the savvy dealer I was, I did put in one exception clause. Mom had been trying to get me to cut my hair for the last year, and I had resisted. I made her agree that my "obedience" would not include cutting my hair. The final miracle happened - Mom agreed to the deal.

Senior's night itself turned out to be a mix between miracle and curse. The first couple of hours I had to stand at the gate with the other school reps and resolve multiple cases of "lost my ticket" and the usual assortment of dodges used by gatecrashers from other places. Then there were the assorted cases of "drunk and disorderly" and other eviction crimes that I had to log when a student from our school was involved. We were only able to steal away a few minutes at a time to enjoy the amusements, but what we had, Jennifer and Pat made the most of. Not only did they really help when there was work to do, they treated me in a VERY friendly manner whenever we had a few minutes for the amusements. It was all for laughs, of course - how could they really go for a shortstop like me? But I took what I could get, and we all three had some good laughs. We enjoyed ourselves so much, in fact, that someone, somewhere in the night, took the time to warn me that their boyfriends would not approve of the "friendliness" they were showing. Of course, their boyfriends were a thousand miles away, and their school wasn't participating - how would they ever know?

Reality has a way of paying you back for pretty much every miracle in your life, I guess. My payback started the first day of vacation - just two days after the Bash. Mom phoned from work and told me to clean up and meet her at the curb when she got home - we had some things to do downtown. That's all she would tell me over the phone, so I reluctantly got myself cleaned up (I hadn't quite started my summer job search by then) and was waiting as she instructed.

She drove up to the curb and waited for me to get in, then she drove out toward the boulevard that led to the other side of town. I asked her where we were going, and she gave me a glance, then started to talk.

"Alex, I've been thinking a lot about the arguments we've had over the past few months. I know it's been hard on you - the divorce, moving to a new place, trying to make new friends in a new school. I think I haven't been very fair to you."

Wow, this seemed to be the old mellow Mom talking - not the one that had been riding me on pretty much every topic under the sun since the divorce proceedings began. I began to get suspicious.

"In thinking about it the last few weeks, I've realized how much of the conflict is my fault."

Immediately my senses went on active alert: when Mom started out by admitting a fault, you could be sure that she had something up her sleeve.

"It's not so much your having long hair that's been bothering me, it's that you seem not to keep it as neat as I feel you should."

Aha! She was going to try some technicality to get me to cut my hair. But I had an ironclad agreement with her, so I let her continue without interrupting.

"I guess I've just been expecting you to know what to do to keep your hair neat, then to get it done, and that's probably not reasonable on my part. When I was your age I spent a lot of time with my mom learning how to do that. She taught me how often to wash it and how to manage it afterward: how to set it and style it and keep it looking nice. We used to spend hours some times brushing out each other's hair and thinking up new ways to wear it and manage it. It was fun -- a lot better than the arguments and hassles we've had -- and I see no reason why we shouldn't have fun with this as well."

Hmm, this was sounding a little too reasonable. But I couldn't see anything to object to so far.

"Anyway, I'd like to change the way I've been approaching this -- to take more responsibility to teach you what you need to know -- and to make it an enjoyable thing for both of us. Do you think that would be okay with you?"

I had to agree that our conflicts on this had been no fun, and I liked the fact that she had acknowledged that part of it was her fault. It was also true that I really didn't know how to manage my hair very well. As it got longer it seemed to be greasy all the time. Every time I washed it though, it got real wispy and I couldn't do anything with it. Tangles were beginning to be a major problem too. I had actually wanted to ask Mom for her help, but I was afraid she'd just use that as a reason to hassle me even more. Now here she was offering the help I'd been wanting -- how could I say no?

"Actually, Mom, I've had some real problems with tangles lately, and I was going to ask if you knew how I could avoid them -- I just didn't want you to hassle me or try and make me cut my hair, that's all."

"Sweetheart, I appreciate you sharing those feelings with me. I've decided that, with the changing styles and all, if you really want to wear your hair long there's really no good reason for me to object -- provided that you keep it looking nice. Would you let me help you do that?"

"Sure. I'd like that a lot."

"Then the only real problem is that, with my job demanding more and more of my time, I may not be able to spend all the time it takes at first. I mean, after a while you'll be able to do most things on your own, but at first I think you'll need more help than I might be able to give you."

"What can be that hard? Your hair is long, but you seem to spend just a few minutes a day on it."

"Well, this is a particularly easy style to manage, but I'm not sure you'd like to wear your hair the same way." We both chuckled at this little joke. "But even the 'simple' styles take a lot more time than you might think. You may not realize the amount of time I spend at the salon, or the time at night before I go to bed. Make no mistake, you really will have to spend some time on this -- especially since your hair is getting longer than mine. Are you willing to spend the time and effort that it takes?"

"I guess I am, but if you're already spending time on yours, will you have the time to help me on mine?" I had no idea that I was digging myself deeper and deeper into Mom's trap.

"Well, as I said before, at first you're probably going to need more help than I can give you. That's why I've made arrangements with Betty to help you get started -- that's where we're going now."

Betty was one of the first people -- one of the few -- who had befriended us when we moved in. Someone at her new job had referred Mom to Betty's beauty salon when we first moved. Betty had not only done a great job on Mom's hair, she had become a good friend and kind of helped both of us find our way around. Unlike many adults, Betty had gone out of her way to pay some attention to me, and seemed actually interested in my friendship as well as Mom's.

"Gee, that's really nice of her to be willing to help -- I don't think I've ever been to her house before."

"Betty really is a good friend, but I wouldn't feel right taking advantage of her professional knowledge, or imposing on her hospitality, so I made this sort of a business deal. I made an appointment for you at Betty's salon every Monday night this month. Tonight is your first appointment."

"Mom, there's no way I'm going into a salon with all those women around. I know you used to take me with you some times, but I'm not a little kid any more. Besides, someone I know might see me."

"Calm down, sweetheart. I'm not totally insensitive to your feelings, and neither is Betty. Her salon closes early on Monday night, but Betty has agreed to stay late for these appointments just so you wouldn't have to worry about other people being there. Not only that, she's giving us a half-price discount on everything she does and everything we buy."

"Wow, that really is nice of her. I'm sorry, Mom, I didn't mean to get upset." She had me on the defensive now, and I still had no clue of the trap she laid.

"You're forgiven, my dear. I do think that I've done everything I could to consider your feelings as well as my own. I want us to have fun with this, so I've tried to keep the rules to an absolute minimum -- just two in fact."

My suspicions were suddenly aroused again. "What do you mean, 'rules'?"

"Well, this is, after all, your part of the agreement -- that you'd follow all my wishes for the month after you got the use of the car -- right? Well, my wishes are these: that for the next month you keep your hair clean and well-groomed at all times, and up off your collar when I'm around. That's not too much to ask, is it?"

"Mom, YOUR part of the agreement was that you wouldn't make me cut my hair. Wasn't this whole conversation about how I was going to learn to manage my hair LONG?"

"Absolutely, dear, I said nothing about cutting your hair."

"Mom, how can I keep my hair 'off my collar' if I don't cut it. You took that phrase right out of the old high school dress code."

"This has nothing to do with the old dress codes, and long hair is going to be acceptable in the high school this Fall again, anyway. I want you to keep it off your collar as a way of learning how to truly manage your hair at that length. Betty can help you learn any number of ways to arrange it so that it's off your collar."

"Arrange it? You mean 'put it up' -- like a girl's? Mom, you can't be serious."

"You're yelling again, sweetheart. I mean 'put it up' like you-have-all-the-skills-you-need-to-keep-long-hair-neat-and-attractive. Once you've done that for a month I'll be sure that you can handle it on your own, no matter what length or style you decide to wear it. And, as I said, I'll help you as much as I can, in addition to what you learn from Betty."

Now I saw the clever trap she had laid. Technically, I had agreed to follow any demand she made, though I never dreamed she'd come up with anything like this. "There's no way you're going to get me to wear my hair like a girl's for the next month. I couldn't leave the house. I just won't do it."

"That's your choice, my dear. If that's the way you feel, just have Betty give you a regular boy's cut, and the whole thing will be over. If you really believe those arguments you've been feeding me, though, wearing your hair 'up' shouldn't be considered any more 'girlish' than wearing it long. And another thing: you can wear your hair any way you like when I'm not around -- I can't control that. It's just when we're at home together that I want to see it up. If you really show that you've learned how to manage it before the month is over, I might ease off on the requirements. Now here's Betty's shop, and we're already a few minutes late, so hurry inside. I'll be back about the time you're finished -- I have some errands to run."

I looked around furtively and saw no one near who might recognize me, so I jumped out of the car, slammed the door and raced inside. I was fuming, but Betty pretended not to mind as she greeted me warmly and had me sit down in the chair farthest from the windows. "From your mood I'd guess that your mom has filled you in on her rules? She told me about her plan over the phone yesterday. I guess you're pretty upset, huh?"

"She's laid her clever little trap for me, Betty, and she thinks she's going to win this one and get me to cut my hair, but I'll figure some way out of this."

"Well, Alex, I really don't want to take sides -- you and your mother are both such good friends -- but there is a little bit of a middle ground here, if you have the patience for it, and are really determined to keep your long hair."

"I'm even more determined now than I was before."

Betty chuckled. "I think you're every bit as stubborn as your mother. That's one of the things I like about you both: you know what you want and are willing to hang in there 'til you get it. Well then, down to business I don't think you've had much practice with arranging your hair or using curlers, have you?"

I looked at her sideways. "You've got to be kidding."

"I didn't think so, but I just wanted to make sure." Her tone made it sound as if she would have preferred it if I had said yes. "If you'd had practice before, we could settle for a simple French Roll or something that you could let down and put up whenever you wanted. You'll get good enough to do that over the next couple of weeks, but for now I think you'll need a style that will stay pretty much in place for the next few days. Friday morning is my only slack time this week: I won't be able to help you with the next step until then. What we can do is put your hair up in a style that we can pretty well "cement" in place - something that you'll be able to maintain with just some hairspray and pins every morning. Friday morning after your mom leaves for work you can take it down and wash it. Then if you have trouble putting it up again you can call me and I'll help you. How does that sound?"

I didn't mean to, but I probably sounded pretty whiny as I replied. "You mean I'd have my hair up like a girl's until Friday morning? I wouldn't be able to leave the house. I'd go stir crazy."

Betty kept her voice down, but there was a firmness in it that told me I was near the end of her tolerance. "I know that may seem hard for you, but it's the only way I see to help you. If you'd rather, we can just call it quits and give you a regular boy's cut."

Besides being embarrassed at having angered Betty, I realized I was cornered now, and I was determined to fight back. "No. I'm not going to give in - just tell me what you want me to do."

Betty smiled and gave me a friendly hug. "Now, now, it really won't be that bad. I'll bet you a milkshake that when this month is over you're going to look back on this and wonder what the big deal was."

I grinned in spite of myself. "You have a bet, lady. Plan on a double chocolate malted."

"Okay, wise guy, you're on." Betty selected two picture albums from a nearby shelf. "Now look through these books and pick a style that you like. I think pretty much any one of these will fit our needs. Meanwhile, I'll get my stuff arranged.

As I began to page through the albums my spirits sank further and further. Every model had hair piled way on top of their heads, most of them fixed up with ribbons or curls or decorated combs. Some even had flowers woven into the style. There was obviously no way I was going to get through the next few days with my dignity intact: I was going to be getting a girl's hairdo.

For a moment, I seriously thought of just giving in and asking for a boy's cut. As I thought it over, I pictured all my hair lying on Betty's floor, and a shiver went through me. I had fought for the right to wear my hair long: not only with Mom and the principal at my old school, but with several guys who found out that long hair doesn't mean you're a sissy. I really felt I had a lot of myself invested in it. The last straw was when I pictured the triumphant smile that would be on Mom's face if she returned to find me with my hair cut short.

I swallowed hard, then took the album over to Betty. With grim determination I pointed to one of the styles Betty suggested as being the easiest. I had seen it on several of my female classmates the day of the Prom: all the hair swept up to the crown, then arranged in two tiers of ringlets, one on top of the other.

I thought I could see just a bit of sympathy in Betty's eyes, but she smiled cheerfully and patted the salon chair where I was to sit. Strangely enough, now that I had made the decision I began to relax. Betty's easy chatter soon had me actually smiling and enjoying myself. As she began to wash my hair, my memory drifted back to the times when I had gone with Mom to her beauty appointments. I would usually sit in the front with a toy or comic book while the strange smells and the chatter of female voices filled my senses. Sometimes I would look over the divider and watch as Mom and the other women subjected themselves to the indignity of curlers and other strange gadgets. The women had always been nice to me, and had sometimes teased me about coming back and getting my hair done. I got butterflies in my stomach as I realized that those memories were now taking on a strange and current reality.

That funny feeling in my stomach grew stronger and was joined by a tightness in my chest as Betty combed out my wet hair, separated the first strand, and wound a curler into it.

"But I don't want curls in my hair, Betty. Can't I just keep it straight?"

"You curl your hair every time you wash it, Alex, whether you wear it curly or straight. Large curlers like the ones we're using give you just a little body and control. If you decide you really want curls we'll use the smaller ones." She didn't wait for my retort. "I'll just give you a set of these larger ones to take with you tonight, so you'll have them on hand Friday morning. I'll be around to help if you forget what I'm about to show you

As she put each curler in she had me hand her the hairpins that secured them in place. After the first few, she handed me the comb. "Since you're eventually going to have to do this for yourself, you might as well start learning now, I guess."

It took almost an hour, and my arms were aching, but I finally began to get the hang of things: sectioning out a strand of hair, winding the curler down and pinning it in place. Betty taught me a little about which way to wind the curlers and where to position them to get the effect we were trying for. When we were finally finished, Betty wrapped my head with a net and led me to one of her dryers. I looked ridiculous, but no more so than any female I had seen under the same circumstance. Betty sat me under the dryer, then before she turned on the air she asked if I would like for her to give me a manicure while my hair dried.

"No way are you going to paint my nails, Lady."

Betty giggled. "Getting a manicure doesn't mean you have to get your nails painted, silly. I have some very good male clients who get regular manicures to keep their hands looking nice -- Mayor Frost among them."

The thought of Mayor Frost sitting in one of Betty's chairs made me giggle, but Betty finally convinced me that it was okay - and it seemed preferable to browsing through the countless women's magazines lying around.

When my hair was finally dry I followed Betty back to the styling chair. My chest began to get strangely tight again as I watched her remove the curlers from my hair. In spite of her assurances that large curlers would produce straight hair, each strand came out with a bouncy curl at the end. I wanted to complain, but somehow I was too fascinated to say anything: ...all those curls in my hair...in some strange way it was exciting to me - almost like the feelings I had when I had swiped some of Mom's things to try on... Here I stopped myself abruptly. It had been several weeks since I had decided to end that nonsense. I was a guy, after all, and too grown up now to do such things. Still, I could not fully repress the feelings that continued as Betty began to comb out each section, tease it and spritz it with hair spray, then pile it on top of my head. She used several large hairpins to keep the strands in place until she had piled it up all around, then she used an elastic fastener to pull the whole mass together. Next she took a curling iron and began to form little flat curls that she pinned in a circle around the crown of my head. When she had completed a full circle she was pretty much out of hair. She told me she'd be back in just a second, then she disappeared into the back of the shop.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a long time. There was no mistaking the femininity of this hairstyle, nor the effect that it had on my overall appearance. My resistance to the excitement within was quickly evaporating. On an impulse I brought my newly manicured fingers up under my chin, smiled at myself and struck a girlish pose. For an instant I even regretted not having accepted Betty's offer of clear polish for my nails. It was at that moment that Betty came back into the room. I quickly dropped my pose and sat back in my seat. Betty said nothing, but she seemed to have a slight knowing smile as she went back to work. She had found a small hairpiece that matched my shade, and proceeded to fashion it into a second tier of curls, which she pinned atop the first.

"Betty, that's not really necessary, is it?" I asked half-heartedly.

"Not really, but would you deny an artist the pleasure of finishing her creation?" She gave me a broad smile and a wink, and I smiled in spite of myself. Betty really was a good friend, and I surely didn't want to get on her bad side - not now when I really needed her.

When Betty was finished with the hairpiece she had me cover my face, then she coated the whole construction with what seemed to be half a can of hair spray. I was just uncovering my face when Mom walked into the shop.

"Oh, Betty, he's beaut...I mean, his hair is perfect!"

Immediately my anger returned. On the one hand, I was fascinated to see myself with an honest-to-gosh hairstyle, but on he other hand, I was furious with Mom for having forced me into this predicament. I didn't even respond when Mom greeted me, and I pretended not to pay attention as Betty put several things into a bag and explained what I'd have to do for the next few days.

The next few days were really hell. I refused to speak to Mom, number one. She would leave long lists of chores for me to do, including having dinner fixed every night when she came home. I was so determined not to speak to her that I didn't even argue. Of course, it was all part of my agreed month of "obedience" any way, so arguing would have been useless. With my hair up I wasn't about to go outside - not even in my own yard - for fear the neighbors might see me. My hairdo was the cause of all sorts of problems - not just the confinement. It took extra time every evening to spray my hair all over and wrap it in a net so it would survive the night There was no comfortable way to put my head as I tried to sleep, either, so I tossed and turned all night long. I had to get up early every morning, unwrap my hair, pin all the strands that had come loose, spray it, then present myself to Mom at breakfast. She was very cheerful every morning, and very complimentary, but I was having none of it.

There were times during the day when I would take time out from my chores and relax. It was usually at these times that old urges would hit me, and I'd spend long moments sitting at Mom's dressing table, staring at myself in the mirror. I was trying to see myself "from the outside": wondering what others would think if they saw me like this. For the most part, though, those first days were just chores and silence.

Thursday morning after Mom left I decided that I couldn't stand another day of that sticky, sagging mass on top of my head. I was almost to the point of shaving myself bald just to get a decent night's sleep and to get away from the house for a while. Maybe I could do the curling and brushing out by myself - how hard could it be? I practically tore the pins out of my hair, then took a long hot shower, washing and conditioning my hair as Betty had instructed.

After I had relaxing for a while I got out all the stuff Betty had sold us that first night, laid it out at Mom's dresser, then began to put curlers in my hair. It was a disaster from the start. No sooner had I put a few curlers in, but one would fall out. As I leaned over to pick the curler off the floor, the others would loosen and flop around. After about fifteen minutes of this I was in tears. I phoned Betty at her shop, and fortunately she was there. The day was slower than she had expected, and she offered to come right over. I readily accepted.

Betty greeted me cheerily at the door, and immediately I felt my spirits lift. Within a few minutes she had me sectioning off my hair and putting curlers in place like I had done it all my life. Not only that, but she had me laughing and chatting with her to boot. It seemed like no time 'till my hair was dry and Betty was helping me brush it out. She showed me how to put it up in a simple bun at the back of my head. She had me practice a few times to be sure I could do it myself, then produced a couple of items from her handbag. She called them "chignon covers" and showed me how to pin them over the bun, explaining that they would hold in all the loose end that might otherwise stick out. I didn't think they were really necessary, but Betty reminded me that Mom was going to awfully picky about such things, and would demand that my hair look perfect whenever she was around.

When she felt comfortable enough with my ability to manage the bun and the covers, she asked if she could drop me anywhere on her way back to work. I was completely stir crazy by this time, and eagerly accepted. She suggested that I could walk around the mall across from her shop, then she would drive me back home when I was finished. This seemed great, and I was soon waving good-bye to her as I strolled toward the mall entrance. I caught my reflection in the doorway to the mall, and saw with satisfaction that my hair was hanging almost straight by now. It was certainly cleaner than I was used to wearing it, and maybe a little fuller than before, but it pretty much looked like it did a week ago. I strolled around a little while, then stopped at a music store and began browsing through the racks of tapes.

"May I help you, Miss?" The voice was near me, but I paid it no attention at first. Then I saw the clerk out of the corner of my eye, and he was looking straight at me. "Excuse me, Miss, but are you looking for something in particular?" He was actually speaking to me! I thought of something sarcastic to say, but then I caught my breath as the realization hit me that he was sincere. I shook my head and walked quickly out of the store As I approached the entrance to one of the department stores, a girl held up an atomizer and pointed it toward me. "Try a little of Linvin's new perfume, Miss?" I quickened my pace a little more and ignored the girl as I passed her. My head felt a little light and my heart was beating faster now, and as I came to the first department I stepped out of the aisle to catch my breath and think for a moment.

"These are brand new today, aren't they just darling?" I looked up to see that I was in the Junior's Department, standing among the dress racks. Yes, the sales clerk was talking to me. "You look to be about a 5 or a 7 Do you prefer a particular color?"

I opened my mouth to tell her I was definitely NOT interested in a dress, but nothing came out except a hoarse croak. My throat felt like cotton.

"Oh, those summer colds are the WORST, aren't they? I could get you a glass of water while you try something on?"

I turned and almost ran out of the store, leaving the saleslady staring after me. I didn't stop till I found a secluded bench in one of the back corners of the mall. It took a long time to get my breathing and heart rate back to normal. What was going on? It was true that I had often been mistaken for a girl as I grew up, especially when I wore a hood or cap, but that was mostly in the past. Relatives still called me "babyface" sometimes, but only the grownups who ignored my reactions to the name. It was true that I had been teased several times since I started letting my hair grow long, but that quickly stopped after the first couple of fights. I was small and thin for my age, but I was very wiry, and I had developed a reputation for having a quick temper and an ability to back it up. This was different, though. These people weren't teasing, they were being polite. For some reason, three people had just mistaken a teenage boy for a girl!

I carefully examined my reflection in a nearby store window. I was wearing loose jeans, a baggy shirt and white tennis shoes, so that wasn't much of a factor one way or the other. It had to be my hair. Maybe it did turn up a little at the ends, and it did feel a little fuller, but was that enough to make a difference? Somehow, with the subtle effect of the washing and conditioning and the curling, something had change. It was like I had crossed over some invisible line that changed the way people saw me. I had to talk to someone about this, and Betty was just across the street.

I saw Betty chatting with one her clients, so I walked quickly past the desk without speaking to the receptionist. "Excuse me, Miss, but you can't go in there without---"

"Betty, I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I HAVE to talk to you right now!" I whispered. Betty excused herself and led me into her office, closing the door behind us.

"Alex, you look like you've seen a ghost. What on Earth is wrong?"

I quickly explained my experiences of the past few minutes.

"Well, I guess I can understand your feelings, but I must say I'm not really surprised. I know how sensitive you are about this, Alex, but you have very fine features, and a really pretty face. With your hair as long as it is, and now looking so nice and well-kept, it's only natural that people see you that way."

I took a moment to digest this. In so many tactful words, Betty had just told me "You look like a girl." These were the same words that had caused more than one bloody nose among my peers, but Betty was a grownup, and what's more, I knew that she was sincere.

"But, Betty, what can I do about it?"

"What do you want to do about it?"

I was totally confused by now, and frustrated. Betty seemed to understand, but she wasn't being very helpful. I just sat there with a blank look on my face. What could I do? I could cut my hair, but that would be surrender - out of the question. More than that, I really did like wearing it long. I liked the way it swung back and forth as I walked, and I liked the way it felt when I ran my hands through it, as I was doing now. When all this was over, I could go back to keeping it unwashed and stringy, but that didn't seem like much of an option either.

Betty waited and watched me for a few moments, then she smiled. "There is one simple solution that I can see." Here I perked up a little and looked at her hopefully. "You could just play along with the situation, and let people think what they want. We could make it sort of a game --- or an experiment --- see how much you can get away with."

It took me a couple of seconds to realize what Betty was talking about. "You mean, pretend I really am a girl? Get serious, Betty."

"Why not, Alex? It might be fun, seeing how many fools you could fool."

"Yeah, until the first fool figured it out and told everyone else. Then where would I be?"

"Well, there is that risk, I suppose, but I think it's rather slim. Especially since you know so few people around here anyway." I just looked at her skeptically. "I tell you what, let's try a little experiment. I'll bet you that I can take you out shopping right now, as my niece or something, and that not one person will guess our secret."

"Oh, come on, Betty. All I have to do is open my mouth or just stand the wrong way, and anyone will be able to tell."

"You may not believe me, but there are thousands of girls your age that have a deeper voice than you. Anyway, you can let me do all the talking, if you like. What do you say? Shall we lay another double chocolate malted on the line?"

At first I couldn't believe that Betty was really serious, but the more I thought about it, the more curious I became. I had always wondered what I would look like as a girl, and now it seemed like I was going to find out. Why not let Betty help? Besides, she had challenged me - I always liked a friendly wager.

"Okay, Betty, you're on! But I don't have to wear a dress or anything, do I?"

"Not if you don't want to, dear." She paused, as if I needed to respond to her implication. "I will need to do just a little fixing up, though. Sit over here at my desk and I'll be right back." Betty stepped out of her office for an instant, then came back with a brush and some other things.

"Now, I'm just going to put your hair up like we had it this morning .." she began to brush my hair back, talking as she worked. " ... but we'll brush it back over your ears, to soften the look a little more." When she finished she opened her purse and then took my chin in her hand. "Now look down for a moment, that's it, now look at the ceiling - try not to blink. Very good, now look down again." I felt little strokes at my lashes and over my eyelids, and figured out that she was putting some of her makeup on me! I started to pull back, but she tightened her grip on my chin. "Not yet, Alex. Let me finish, then you can see what you think. Now part your lips a little, that's it ..." A heavy sweet taste filled my mouth as she ran a brush around my lips, then filled in. "Now rub your lips together, mmm, that's it. Now blot. Now part your lips again."

The taste was almost like raspberries, and for some reason it set off a powerful surge within me. My chest got so tight I could hardly breathe, and there were other feelings I didn't even want to think about. Memories of those salon trips and visions of Mom's lingerie drawer began to pass quickly through my mind. It was all I could do to bring myself back to reality.

Betty flicked the brush across my cheeks, then smudged at them with her fingertips. "There, now you can take a look in the mirror. What do you think?" She wheeled the chair around so it was facing the full length mirror behind her door. When I stood up I was so dizzy I had to hold onto Betty's arm to keep from falling over. The body in the mirror was definitely mine, but there were subtle differences in the face. The darker eyes, the pink cheeks and lips, It was still my face, I guess, only --- pretty.

"Wow." It was all I could say while I tried to make myself breathe normally again.

"Well, young lady, are you ready to loose that bet?"

I made a wry face at her, but I couldn't get my legs to move. Betty took my hand, interlacing my fingers with hers, and led me out the door. "Come on, this is going to be FUN."

"Grace, I'll be out for an hour or two, but I'll be back before Mrs. Valles comes in for her appointment." The receptionist nodded at Betty, then made a face at me when Betty looked away. I couldn't resist making a face back, and for some reason that gave me a little more courage for what I was about to do.

I lost the bet. During those two hours we visited almost every Lady's shop and department in the mall, and no one even hinted that I might be a boy. At the first couple of places we just walked through, and Betty talked about the latest fashions and styles, color combinations and good accessories. I realized later that she was giving me time to adjust to the situation. No one we passed had anything more than a smile for me, though a few people recognized Betty and said hello. I began to believe that I was actually passing as a girl! Betty quietly pointed this out to me several times, reassuring me that this was going to be a breeze - and a lot of fun.

At the next shop we stopped to browse among the racks of women's clothes. Betty held out several things that she liked and asked my opinion on them. Subtly, she drew me into the swing of things, and soon I was laughing and chatting along with her. Several times Betty complimented me on my taste and my eye for fashion, and I began sharing my opinion on everything from fabrics to jewelry.

We went into some shops where Betty was well-known, and she introduced me as her niece from out of town. The ladies were all very nice to me, and I began to really enjoy myself. It was intoxicating, looking through the racks of vibrant colors and soft fabrics, admiring the beautiful jewelry, smelling the scent of perfumes and makeup. Betty was careful not to go too far, I think, and never suggested that I try anything on, but she did get me to sample some eye shadow and a couple of lipsticks at one of the makeup counters.

When it was time to leave I realized how tired I was, but I was almost reluctant to have it all end. Betty took me back to her shop and helped me remove the makeup, then she drove me home. I thanked her for a wonderful afternoon, and she gave me a big hug before I got out of the car. "Maybe we can do this again next week, and you can buy me that double malted you owe me." I laughingly acknowledged that I had lost the bet, and readily agreed to another shopping date.

I had a hard time throwing dinner together before Mom got home, but the good mood I was in survived even that. Strangely, Mom didn't comment on the chores I hadn't done, and she even complimented me on the meal. In a conversational tone she asked me what I had done that day, and I told her that I had gone browsing with Betty in the mall. I held my breath, trying to think of what Mom might ask, and how I would respond. Thankfully, she just commented on how nice Betty was to be so helpful, then she began talking about how busy she was going to be in the next few days. It was the first normal conversation we'd had in days. That, and a good night's sleep, became a turning point for me. I actually found myself humming a little tune the next morning as I brushed my hair back above my ears and fastened it into a Chignon. Over breakfast I apologized to Mom for being so surly, and she apologized to me for being so hard-nosed about our deal. She didn't offer to change any of her rules, of course, but she did ease up on the list of chores. We shared a real hug and a kiss, our first in ages, before she had to rush off.

After she left I went into her room and sat at her dresser to take my hair down. As I was brushing it out I glanced down and saw a tube of her lipstick. A powerful urge seemed to sweep over me, and I opened the tube and looked into the mirror. I parted my lips as I had the day before, and spread the pomade over my upper lip. As I rubbed my lips together that strong, sweet taste, a little different than before, flooded my senses. I dashed a little on my cheeks, then smudged them just as Betty had done. Looking down again, I found one of Mom's eye shadows and wiped the pad across each eyelid in turn. Next I decided to be really brave, and I opened Mom's mascara. I poked my eye twice and had to clean up several smears, but I kept at it until both lashes were coated black. Betty had used brown on me the day before, but I couldn't be picky. Satisfied with my makeup job, I swept my hair back and held it up to the crown, making a kissing face at the mirror. Then I smiled at myself as I realized that I could really do this. I brushed my hair back over my ears, wrapped it in an elastic , then twisted it and replaced the chignon cover I had removed only minutes before. Betty's niece was back - almost. A thought flashed through my mind: what if Betty had suggested I try something on yesterday? Would I have done it? Would she suggest it next week when we went shopping again? Would I be brave enough to say yes? How could I wait until then?

Now I was almost like a robot. I didn't let myself think about past promises as I began opening Mom's drawers and searching through her lingerie. I found one of her half-slips and rubbed it against my face as I had done so many times before. Still not allowing myself to think about what I was doing, I took off all my clothes and dropped them in a pile. I took out a pair of Mom's panties and pulled then on, then stepped into the half slip. Trying to put on a bra was very frustrating, but I told myself I had all day if necessary. Finally I got it snapped behind my back and adjusted pretty well.

Not allowing myself to look in the mirror yet, I went to Mom's closet. I had the run of the house and it was several hours till Mom came home! I felt so free and light! I selected a gray pleated skirt and a white blouse with ruffled sleeves. Even though the buttons were in the front, I realized they were on the wrong side, and they took a couple of extra minutes to fasten. Now I examined myself in the mirror, wondering if I looked as good as I felt. I hugged myself and felt the wonderful silky fabric against my skin.

When I put my arms down I noticed that the blouse didn't look that good with the empty brassiere underneath. I went to Mom's lingerie drawer again and found several pair of stockings to stuff into the bra cups. I rebuttoned my blouse, then held up one of the pairs of pantyhose. As I stood there wonder if I dared risk it, the doorbell rang.

I froze in my tracks. What could I do? Someone would see me! The bell rang again before I realized that this was my house and all I had to do was to wait until they left. I tiptoed out to the front door and peeked th rough a side window. There was a delivery boy standing there balancing a package and a clipboard. I waited for him to leave, but he rang the bell again and just stood there, then knocked loudly. I waited impatiently, almost angrily for a few more seconds. Why didn't the dummy just leave? Then a devilish thought entered my mind. I had fooled a bunch of women yesterday: could I pass myself off on this young guy? I stepped back to the doorway, and as he knocked the second time I swung open the door. A breeze hit my bare legs and found itself up my skirt, giving me goose bumps all over. I put my hand over my chest, feigning a hoarse voice, and whispered "Yes?" I think the door handle was the only thing preventing me from falling down in a faint at this point.

"Mrs. Anderson?" the boy asked. Now maybe I looked like a girl, but there was no way I looked like a "Mrs." This guy must be really dumb. I looked at the package that he held up and saw the street number on the label.

"Three doors down." I whispered.

"Huh?"

How could I get so irritated by a person in such a short amount of time? I cleared my throat and used my real voice. "The Andersons live three doors down." I said loudly, then shut the door in his face as he dropped his clipboard.

Had he realized I was a guy, or had he just been clumsy? I peeked out the window again to see him picking up his clipboard. As he turned and started down the steps he muttered what sounded like "Nice Pillows." It took me a couple of seconds, then I looked down at my chest and burst into a fit of giggles. I had been a little too generous with the stockings in my bra cups: I must have looked like a double "D" to that delivery boy. I went back into Mom's room and adjusted my bustline, then decided against actually wearing Mom's pantyhose - too risky to chance a run or a snag.

I spent the rest of the day in Mom's clothes, doing my chores and freshening my makeup and hairdo from time to time. About an hour before she was due back I carefully replaced all her clothes, then scrubbed my face for several minutes to remove all the makeup. Giving in to my impulses one more time, I returned to Mom's room and retrieved an old babydoll nightie from the back of her lingerie drawer. I hid it under my pillow then went in and made dinner.

Mom again complimented me on dinner, then commented on how well I was doing with my hair. We talked about some of the tricks Betty had shown me, and it turned into a really pleasant conversation on hairstyles and fashion.

That night after Mom went to bed I took off my pajamas and replaced them with the Babydolls. I had no idea what I was doing or why, but it felt really good - maybe like I was closer to my Mom in some way. I thought about the conversation we'd had, and how good it was to be on speaking terms again. I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

Saturday and Sunday were both full of chores, it seemed. Somewhere our conversation turned again to hairstyles, and Mom asked me if I had chosen another style for Monday's appointment. Before I realized how odd it was, I found us sitting on the sofa together looking through one of Mom's magazines. First we talked about hairstyles, then the conversation turned to fashion, then women's issues. Mom told me some of the things she had gone through at her past job. We even talked a little about the divorce. Sunday night I fell asleep thinking that Mom's new rules were turning out better than I could have ever imagined.

Alex's Second "Do"

Monday afternoon I had my hair up in the now-familiar chignon, and I was waiting for Mom on our porch when she drove up. This time Mom came into Betty's shop with me.

"Hi, Alex, hi, Liz. It's good to see you both. Does this mean you're back on speaking terms?" Betty's good-natured smile showed she was teasing both of us. She took one of the albums off her shelf. "Here, Alex, why don't you look through this and see if you can find a style you like."

"Oh, we've already taken care of that, haven't we, Alex?" Mom interjected.

I blushed a little as I nodded in response and pointed to the picture in the magazine I had brought.

"Oh, the Gibson Girl! That will be perfect! Very sophisticated, but also very easy to put up and take down."

"Do you think you'll need to give him a body perm, Betty?"

Mom had said nothing about that when we had selected the style. I crinkled my nose at Betty.

"Hmm, it could be, but we'll try it first with a little extra setting gel and see how that works, okay?"

"Okay, then, I'll leave him in your hands, and I'll see you in a while."

As Mom walked out the door I settled into the shampoo chair and Betty began her routine. Again she had me do most of the curlers, and by this time I was pretty good at it. She just had to explain the setting pattern to me, and I was able to do most of the rest. She was very impressed. Betty gave me another manicure while I was under the dryer, and this time I accepted her offer of a clear coat of polish on my nails. When my hair was dry Betty combed it out and began the process of back-combing each section, then pinning it up until it was all pinned together at the top of my head. We had a few minutes to chat here and there, but Betty took most of the time teaching. She demonstrated how to get just the right fullness around the sides and form a smooth bun of the remaining hair. As I was admiring our handiwork in the mirror, Betty took a little hook and began pulling out strands of hair at my temples and the nape of my neck.

"Betty, we really don't have to go that far, do we?" I asked half-heartedly. "I'm not planning to show this off anywhere, you know." I realized that she was doing those wispy little curled tendrils that were a part of the hairdo in the magazine photo.

"Oh, I'm just trying to give you and your Mom your money's worth, Alex. It's these little finishing touches that set off a professional hairdo from a homemade job." She smiled and winked at me in the mirror. "Besides, I thought maybe you'd want to do a little showing off when we go shopping together this week."

Her reference to our upcoming shopping trip caused my stomach to do a flip-flop. Last week had been so much fun just browsing through the Woman's departments, but how far would she expect me to go this time? The thoughts of what we might be doing caused me to fall silent for the few moments it took Betty to finish curling the tendrils. The result was very professional-looking indeed, and we took several minutes to admire the finished product in the mirror. A little voice in the back of my mind told me I shouldn't be getting this much enjoyment out of making my hair look so feminine, but I couldn't help myself.

Next Betty had me practice twice taking the whole thing down, brushing it out, then back-combing the sections and reconstructing the style from the beginning. She was very complimentary of my abilities, and the second time she was satisfied enough to call it quits. Mom walked in just as I was putting the final gust of spray on my hair. Betty insisted that I do the tendrils again. While Mom and she watched, I used the small hook to pull out two strands at each temple then curled them with my little finger and spritzed them with hair spray. I repeated the process at the nape of my neck as well. I was embarrassed for Mom to see me adding such a feminine touch to my hairdo, and to make it worse, she noticed the clear polish on my fingers.

"I see you did his nails too. Betty, you do such a professional job, and it really does make his hands look nice. I'll have to come in and let you do mine some time soon." As she talked, she was looking around at all the changes in Betty's salon. "My, you really have expanded, haven't you? What is that table next to your manicure station?"

"Oh, that's my cosmetology setup. I was telling Alex that I've just finished my last class in cosmetology. All I have to do for certification is ten hours of practical work. I'm going to offer ten of my customers a free makeover with any cosmetics purchase. That should do the trick, and it will start to bring in a lot of extra revenue."

"I could really use some help on updating my look. Maybe I'll come back when you have some time and try to be one of the lucky ten."

"Actually, I have some time right now, if you'd like. And for my two favorite people, I'll not only do your makeovers free, I'll give you two for the price of one on all your makeup."

"Betty, that's so sweet of you! What do you think, Alex? We don't have anything else planned for tonight, do we?" She asked it casually as she patted an imaginary hair into place above my ear. I had been so absorbed looking at my new hairdo in the mirror that I hadn't actually been listening. Was she actually suggesting that I get my makeup done along with hers? I glanced at Betty and she was looking right at me with a knowing smile. After our adventure the previous week I couldn't very well pretend that I wasn't interested in wearing makeup. On top of that, it was actually Mom who was suggesting it --but did she really mean that she wanted me to get a real makeover? I swallowed real hard and tried to be non-committal: "Uh, I can't think of anything we had planned."

Both women broke into big smiles. Mom grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze as Betty led us to her makeup table. Over my half-hearted protest, they decided that I should go first. Betty put one of her pink smocks around my neck and pinned the tendrils of hair away from my face. "We start with the eyebrows first - they help frame the face and define everything else we do. Liz, to move a little faster we'll each do a side. You take these tweezers and follow what I do over here on the left."

I was certainly not expecting to get my eyebrows plucked, but I figured they'd only be doing a few stray hairs. Betty started out that way, by doing a little, then Mom would follow. I began to get concerned, though, because they kept at it. When it seemed as if they were finally through, Betty would tweeze just a little more "to get it even." Then Mom would have to do a little on the other side. When they finally finished and sat back to take a look, I gasped.

Where my rather full eyebrows used to be, there were now two very thin arched lines high above my eyes. It seemed to have changed my face completely, and I was hit with the exciting and terrible realization that I had very clearly crossed a line. Without even a touch of makeup I now had a girl's face. I was suddenly sure that, until my eyebrows grew back, I didn't have to worry about passing as a girl: I probably couldn't pass as a BOY. I probably should have gotten angry, or at least protested a little, but I was too stunned. Besides, it was already done, and a part of me was really excited by what I was seeing in the mirror.

Mom and Betty seemed not to notice my surprise and didn't even ask me what I thought. Betty stroked a pencil across what was left of my eyebrows. "Now we'd be very conservative on the makeup for daytime, especially for Alex, but let's do a full "nighttime" makeover for each of you - then you'll see the full effect of the colors we chose." Without waiting for a response from either of us, Betty selected a dark shade of brown to line both my upper and lower lids, extending the line out past the corners in kind of a delta. They began selecting the colors for my eye shadow and they drew me into the conversation as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I tried to go along with the mood and I expressed some preferences, but every time the mirror caught my eye my chest would draw a little tighter. With every stroke of those makeup brushes I was becoming a different person - a different and very pretty person.

They did my eyelids in three colors of shadow, then applied a cream blush to my cheeks and a red pencil and brush to my lips. By the time they had finished with my lipstick I could hardly breathe. They leaned back to give me a full view of the mirror and asked me what I thought. In truth, what I saw in the mirror was beautiful - but how could that delightfully pretty feminine face belong to me? I hesitated for a moment and put my hand to my face, just to be sure it really was me. I finally picked what I thought was a comment that covered my real thoughts: "Uh, maybe just a shade lighter lipstick, don't you think?" Betty agreed with this observation, so I wiped off my lips with a tissue, and Betty lined and brushed my lips a second time. Betty pulled the hairpins from the tendrils and adjusted them over my forehead, then the two ladies spent several minutes turning me back and forth, admiring their handiwork and paying me all sorts of compliments on my appearance. I was too fascinated with my own image to know how to respond, so to draw the focus away from me I guided Mom to the makeup stool. "Your turn now, Mom, and I get to help Betty this time."

That seemed to be all it took, and we were soon gaily conspiring over color selections for Mom's eyes and lips. It surprised me that they took some of my suggestions on colors and shades, and it seemed to make a difference. When we were finished, Mom looked ten years younger! It had been a long time since I had paid her a compliment, and when I told her how pretty she looked she got tears in her eyes and gave me a big hug. "So do you, sweetheart." She whispered sincerely. I suppose I should have been appalled, or at least offended, but somehow I was pleased instead: my appearance seemed to be affecting all my reactions.

Betty put all our samples in two little zippered cosmetics bags, then rang up the extra lipsticks and shadows Mom had purchased. I couldn't help noticing that at least some of those colors were my shades and not hers. What did that mean, exactly? Or did she like them so much that she was just planning to try them out on herself? We both thanked Betty and went out to the car. In the darkness of the late evening it never occurred to me to be concerned about my appearance until Mom suggested that we stop at a drive-in for dinner.

"Mom, I can't go anywhere looking like this. What would people say? What if I saw someone I knew?" As I said this, I remembered my outing with Betty just a few days before. That feeling of excitement was back, but I had done that with Betty, not with my own Mom.

"My dear, at a drive-in people will only see your face and the top of your shirt. The way you look right now, the only notice you will attract will be as a very pretty young lady. And as for meeting any of the snobs at that school, I'd be surprised if they would notice anyone but themselves. Really, though, sweetheart, if you get to feeling the least bit uncomfortable, we'll leave right away, I promise." That assurance made me feel more comfortable and let the excitement take over. What did I have to lose?

"What can I get you ladies tonight?" The cheery greeting sent a feeling of relief and a little thrill through me. The carhop, at least, had not the slightest confusion over my appearance. We ordered our burgers and malts and the guy left. "How are you feeling so far?" Mom asked.

"Pretty good, I guess. We sure fooled him."

"I think you'll find that a common experience. Not to change the subject, but I think you were right about your lipstick. That shade gives you just the right look, even in these neon lights." I blushed and was trying to think of an offhand response, but she went on. "You were right about my eye shadow too. I think you have a real eye for this sort of thing."

Now I knew she was teasing. "Oh, cut it out, Mom."

"I'm not teasing, sweetheart, I'm serious, and Betty said the same thing. Some people just have an eye for colors and textures, and you're one of them. It's simply a talent that you have. And while we're on the subject, you seem to be doing pretty well on your hairstyling also. That's almost a professional job you have there."

She seemed to be sincere, and I was somehow both pleased and embarrassed at the compliment. "Uh, thanks, Mom, I guess Betty's a pretty good teacher - she makes everything so easy and fun."

"Well, she tells me that you've been a very good student. By the way, I found another magazine tonight that has some good hairstyles, would you like to look at it while we're waiting for our food?"

We spent the next few minutes looking through the magazine and comparing our views on hairstyles and makeup. Somewhere along the way I realized that I was really kind of interested in this stuff, and that I did seem to have a knack for it. Our conversation was fun, and it continued as we ate our food. I got a little thrill when I looked down and saw my straw and my napkin marked with traces of lipstick, just like Mom's. When we had finished, Mom wiped her lips and then took out a new tube of lipstick. I watched fascinated as she opened a compact mirror and began to apply the color. She noticed that I was staring at her, and she nodded toward my makeup bag. "Go ahead, sweetheart, yours needs a little touch up too."

As she spoke, she twisted the rear view mirror so that I could see my face in it. It was an electrifying moment for me. I selected a tube from my makeup bag and took the top off. As I twisted the base I looked into the mirror, then lifted the tube to my lips. As that full, fragrant taste entered my senses for now the fourth time, I knew that I wanted to do this all the time. I loved the smell and the taste and the velvety smooth feel of the pomade, and I loved seeing the bright color on my lips. Mom seemed to sense the feelings I was having, and she smiled and gave me a quick hug.

"It is kind of fun, isn't it!"

All my inhibitions were defeated for the moment. I smiled at her and nodded my agreement. As I took a second look in the mirror, I suddenly froze. There was a car pulling in next to ours, and who should be driving but Pat, with Jennifer in the front seat!

I sank down as low as I could in my seat and pleaded with Mom to get us out of there. Fortunately, the carhop had just come up to take the tray, so Mom started the engine immediately and hurried out of the parking lot. The way I was sitting, I couldn't tell whether Pat and Jennifer had seen me or not, and I didn't dare sit up to take a look. How foolish could I have been? Probably the only two girls in the whole town who had even given me the time of day, and now that might all be ruined. Those girls didn't exactly have a reputation for discretion, either. This could get all over town in a hurry. Whatever small hope I might have had for a normal existence in this town was now ruined. I was disgusted with myself and angry at Mom for forcing me into all this.

Mom made a couple of tries at conversation while she was driving, but I made no reply. Suddenly she pulled to the side of the road and turned off the engine.

"Look, Alex," She said, turning in the seat to face me, "I know you're very upset, but I think it's time to get a few things out in the open. First, you need to know that I've been aware of your, uh, interest in my lingerie for quite some time."

My jaw must have dropped a couple of feet. How could she have known? Had I left some things out, or had she seen me? It had been months - well, at least weeks since I had - well, except for this week, of course. What was she going to do to me?

"Now don't be frightened. I'm not angry with you or anything. As I said, I've known about it for quite some time, but I figured if I had asked you about it you'd just deny it. Am I right?" I looked at the floor and nodded my head. "Anyway, I talked to my counselor about it ...."

I almost fainted. She had told other people about this? Especially that goofball of a shrink she called her 'counselor.'

"... and she said it was not that rare for a boy to be interested in feminine things. Granted, it's not the most common thing in the world, but you aren't the only one with these feelings by a long shot. Anyway, Betty and I talked about it for a while, then..."

Suddenly I felt physically ill. Betty knew about my ...interest? But then, she seemed to ... the light suddenly dawned. "Wait a minute, Mother. You mean you set me up? You and Betty and that goofball shrink of yours set me up!?"

"Calm down, sweetheart. As for Doctor Harris, I haven't really talked to her since we moved, but yes, Betty and I did sort of plan this as a ... well, we wanted to see how far you'd be willing to go. I was pretty sure you wouldn't have agreed or even admitted anything if we had just ... if we hadn't devised this little 'incentive.' But admit it, now, it has been sort of fun, hasn't it?"

"Fun!!!?" I yelled "You ..." Mom held up her hand - her special signal to me that I needed to lower my voice and think hard before I spoke. I swallowed my words and just sat glaring at her for a couple of minutes. How could she have tricked me like this?

Then I began to think about last week's outing with Betty, and the last couple of days talking with Mom, and tonight's session at the Salon. I had to admit to myself that I really had been enjoying myself. There was a peace, and a friendship even, that I hadn't felt in a long time, maybe never before. It was all very confusing. On the one hand I was very ashamed of what I'd been doing, and I knew I should be angry with Mom for her tricks. On the other hand, I really couldn't deny the feelings of fun and friendship I was having with Betty and with Mom, and I desperately didn't want to loose those feelings. Suddenly I just broke down in big sobs and hid my face in my hands.

Mom put her arms around me and hugged me. For a long time, as I sobbed, she just held and stroked me and whispered comforting words to me. Finally I returned to some kind of control, and Mom handed me several tissues to clean myself up. As I blew my nose and wiped my eyes, she began to speak.

"I know this is very hard for you sweetheart: it's difficult for me too. But I think that this can be a very important and enjoyable time for both of us. Your feelings are out in the open, now, and I need to lay mine out also. I was very concerned when I first began to suspect your---- interests, but I've done a lot of thinking and reading, as well as my talks with Betty and Doctor Harris, and now I see some real positive things that we might explore."

Suddenly I felt something other than shame or confusion, and I looked up at my Mom to see her smiling at me.

"Our activity at Betty's tonight, and your little trip with her last week - yes, she told me all about it - shows me that you have a real interest in --- feminine things. Am I right?"

I swallowed hard and nodded.

"We've had so much fun over these last few days, and seeing you tonight as a --- as pretty as you look with your hair styled your makeup done --- I see that you really have a lot of potential. If you want to explore that side of yourself, Sweetheart, I want to help you. Do you think it's something we can share?"

I wasn't sure what she meant, exactly, but it felt really good to hear her say it. "Mom, I really don't know what this is all about or what I really want, but it feels good to think that you might help me---. I'm so confused ---." I couldn't find the words, but Mom interceded.

"I know you have a lot of feelings to sort out, and I hope you will let me help you do that, too - I'll listen any time you want to just talk. But at the same time, I don't see why we shouldn't have some fun with this. Whenever you feel you want to look pretty, whether it's hair or clothes or makeup, let's just do it, and we can talk about it along the way. We have the whole summer to use if we want it, and it won't be hurting anyone that I can see. It would be a special joy for me to share some 'girl things' with you. Besides," she chuckled, "I've always thought you were too cute to be 'just another guy'."

She hugged me again as she said this, and I chuckled along with her. When I looked into her eyes, I could see that she had been crying as well. We dabbed at the each other's eyes in a vain attempt to clean the mascara off our faces and ended up laughing and crying at the same time.

The rest of the way home we talked about what we'd do if Jennifer and Pat had seen me. Mom pointed out that if they were true friends, things would work themselves out. If not, it would be up to her and me to face things together, and deal with any gossip or other problems as they came up. It felt so good to be able to talk to Mom about everything. I determined right then to be fully honest and open with all my feelings from then on.

When we got home Mom told me to go and change into my robe, then we'd meet in her bedroom to clean off the rest of our makeup. I took off my clothes and began to step into my pajamas, then caught myself. I quickly put my PJ's back in my drawer and took the nightie from under my pillow: it was time for the first big test of our new "openness." Taking a few deep breaths for courage, I put my robe over my arm and walked into Mom's bedroom wearing her nightie.

Mom didn't seem to hesitate at all as a smile played across her lips. "I thought I was missing something out of my drawers. You look very nice in that, sweetheart, even if it is a little old and worn. Tomorrow during lunch I could buy you a nightgown of your own if you like?"

A little thrill passes through me as I nodded my head. With that Mom had me sit beside her at her vanity and she showed me how to use her special creams to remove the makeup and moisturize my face. She combed out my hair and helped me put it up for the night, then I did the same for her. It was one of the best nights of my life.

Pat and Jennifer

I was exhausted by the emotions I had experienced, and I slept very soundly that night. By the time I got out of bed the next morning I could already hear Mom moving around in the kitchen. I hurried to take the curlers out of my hair and get my hair styled before breakfast, but I only had two sections pinned up before Mom knocked on my door.

"You don't have to bother putting your hair up this morning, sweetheart. I just remembered I have to be at work early today, so I'm headed out the door. You'll have to get your own breakfast. Just do your regular chores, and I'll see you tonight."

Just as I was opening my door to give Mom a hug, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it on my way out, honey. You go ahead and get dressed."

On my way to my closet I hesitated in front of my mirror for a moment. A part of me still wanted to put my hair up and try some of my new makeup. As I stood there I heard Mom open the front door.

"Hi, Mrs. Howell. Is Alex here? We need to talk to him."

My heart almost stopped as I recognized Pat's voice. Surely Mom would figure out some story and send them away - she was pretty quick on her mental feet.

"Hi, Pat. Hi, Jennifer, come on in - he's just getting dressed. I have to go, but he'll be out in just a minute. Alex, honey," she called, "Pat and Jennifer are here."

With that I heard the front door close. I couldn't believe Mom would do this to me - make me face Pat and Jen so soon after last night! I grabbed my pants off the bed and put them on, then threw a shirt over my nightie and tucked it all in. As I was trying desperately to button the shirt, I glanced in my mirror and realized I still had the back of my hair pinned up. Meanwhile, the girls weren't content to wait for me in the living room. They pushed open my door just as I pulled the last pin out of my hair.

"Hey, Alex, we can't wait all day for you. We have a real situation we need to tell you about --- ." As Pat caught sight of me she stopped speaking and just looked me up and down. Jennifer pushed past her and came over to where I was standing by the mirror.

"I told you that was Alex last night!" She exclaimed. "Look, he still has traces of mascara on his lashes - and look at his eyebrows!" She was almost shouting.

I collapsed onto the bed and hid my face in my hands. I knew the rest of my life was over at this point. Pat sat beside me on the bed and took my hands in hers. "I'm sure there's some kind of explanation for all this, Jennifer. It's not really any of our business, I suppose, but - - - do you want to tell us about it, Alex?"

I took some comfort in Pat's mild tone, and I tried my best over the next few minutes to explain to the girls about my bargain with Mom and the trick she had played on me. Pat seemed to understand, but Jennifer just stood there with a sarcastic look on her face the whole time.

When I fell silent for a moment she let out a disgusted sound. "That all sounds soooo innocent, but how do you explain this?" She pulled at a piece of pink ruffle that was peeking out from under my shirt. "I think our little friend is a queer, Pat. After the friendliness we showed him at Seniors Night, too. We'll never live it down. Are you a queer, Alex?"

Strangely, Pat came to my defense. "Jennifer, just back off a little, would you? How Alex dresses for bed is his own business after all - - - unless you're planning to add him to your list of conquests?" I was stung a little by the irony in her tone, though I sensed it was directed at Jennifer and not at me. "Besides, we need his help right now - or did you forget?"

Jennifer took a step back from me and sat down on a convenient chair. Pat continued to talk. "Alex, we just got word that our boyfriends found out about Seniors' Night at the park." This was not good news, but my mind brought back images of that night that almost made me smile despite myself. Jennifer, in particular, had been drinking a little, I think, and had become particularly "friendly" in the later evening.

"You remember on the boat, just before the tunnel when I looked back and thought I saw someone I knew? Well, the next day one of the girls from our school, Alice is her name, and she's Bill's sister..." Ouch! Bill was Jennifer's Neanderthal boyfriend, and the thought of his jealousy wiped away any inclination to smile. "...anyway, she called Jennifer and mentioned that she was at Seniors' Night and started hinting around about 'didn't she see us there' and 'who got us in' and stuff like that. She was a little confused about the details, but she must have gotten your name from somewhere, because she mentioned 'a kid named Alex. Jennifer tried to cover it up, but I think Alice was still suspicious. So Saturday we got a call from the boys and they were fuming. They said they'd be coming back to town this weekend and they wanted to see 'this kid Alex.' If it's anything like the last time they caught us, we're all in for a beating, but you most of all, Alex."

As scared as I was, a part of me was really angry. "Why do you let those guys treat you like that, Pat? If they're so rotten, why do you keep seeing them? Why don't you just tell them to take a hike?"

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Sissy." Jennifer shot back. "Why don't you tell them to take a hike and see what you get for your trouble?"

Again Pat seemed to be defending me. "Jennifer, back off. But she's right, Alex. We've tried to get rid of them before. They have everyone buffaloed on our side of town. They're these 'Great Sports Gods' to all the adults, with perfect manners and Ivy League recruiters beating down their doors - even Pro recruiters. Meanwhile they threaten us and they beat any guy that even looks twice at us. We hate them, but we don't know what to do. They left school early for their college training camps, and we haven't had a date since. They put the word out that we were still their girls, and that's all it took. Then we heard about Senior's Night, and we heard you were this brain and this wheeler-dealer, and we just thought it would be fun - - - . Well, I know it was really our fault that we got you into this, but - - - well, we were hoping you'd come up with some ideas - - - ."

She seemed on the verge of tears and it was probably genuine, but I could see how they had manipulated me - were still using me, in fact. I began to see that they had pretty much set me up for a fall. They had used me to get into Seniors' Night not really caring what might happen later - to them or to me. Of course, I knew at the time that they were going with me only because they couldn't get in any other way. They had offered to help, and I had needed help, so all in all it was really not much more than a simple business relationship. On the other hand, both of them had been very friendly the whole night, and we'd had a lot of laughs. There had even been some cuddling and kissing involved, though it had been done amid laughter and teasing. At any rate, by the end of the evening I had thought we had a pretty good friendship going. The girls had even tried to phone me a couple of times over the last week, but I was going through the hair thing with Mom and had ignored the messages they left. I guess now it was time to "pay the piper" for the good times.

It took me a couple of minutes to work all this through in my mind, and it was pretty quiet in the room. Pat was just sitting there with a frown on her face, while Jennifer paced back and forth in front of us. The more I thought about "the boys", the warmer the room seemed to get. Suddenly Pat spoke up.

"Would the two of you quit it? I'm trying to think and you're both driving me crazy." Jennifer stopped pacing and glance at me. I had been running my hands through my hair and pulling my hair back and up off my neck, then letting it fall. When Pat spoke I sort of froze with my hands behind my head. Pat's eyes narrowed and her frown began to change into a thin smile. Jennifer and I just looked at her for a couple of minutes. Without saying a word, Pat jumped up and walked into the living room with us following behind her. It was obvious she'd had some kind of bright idea, but she seemed so focussed that she couldn't even hear our questions. She picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello, Alice? This is Pat. Hi. I'm doing okay, but Alice, we got a phone call from the boys Saturday and they were very upset about the Seniors Night thing. Alice, what did you tell them about this kid Alex?" There was a pause, then Pat began to laugh. The laugh was convincing in a way but there didn't seem to be much humor behind it. "Alice, where do you know Alex from?" Another pause. "That's what I thought. Alice, if I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to get Jen and me in trouble. Either that or you need to have your eye presecription changed. Alex will be a little upset when SHE finds out you mistook HER for a guy. I don't think the boys will find it too funny either."

Pat glanced up at me when she said that. I had no idea what was going through Pat's mind, but I didn't like what I was hearing.

"That's right, Alice, that was a girl you saw with us on Seniors' Night." She paused to listen for a minute and her smile turned to a frown. "Are you serious? Look, even if we weren't already spoken for, do you think we'd both be dating the same guy at the same time? ... Yes she was wearing a tie and blazer, but that was because she was one of the officials."

Actually, all the other officials had been pretty casually dressed, but I had wanted to make a good impression on my "dates."

"Alice, you sound like you don't believe me. ... Well, maybe we'll just have to do that, Missy, but meanwhile I think you'd better call your brother and straighten the whole thing out." She had raised her voice a couple of notches on that last sentence, and she slammed the receiver down as she finished speaking. The fact that she still had a frown on her face indicated that things hadn't gone as she'd planned. "Okay, so 'Plan A' didn't work, then maybe 'Plan B' will."

From what I'd heard of the converation I was too afraid to ask what was going on in her mind, but Jennifer was impatient. "All right, Pat. I think you need to explain what that was all about."

Pat put her hands to her head and began to speak rapidly. "Okay, here it is. Alice saw us with Alex, but mostly from behind. Just as we got off the boat, someone called to Alex, and that's how she got the name - but she didn't get a real good look at his face - only his clothes and his long hair. So with the clothes and the name, she assumed Alex was a boy that night. I tried to convince her that Alex was really a girl, but I don't think she bought it. But look at him now!" She grabbed my face between both her hands. "With his hair done up and makeup ... like last night ... and with the right clothes, Alex becomes our 'girlfriend' Alexandra! What do you think!?"

Jennifer looked from one to the other of us a couple of times. "I think you're stark raving mad. Fooling a few people might work, but to think that we could fool Bill and Bob - who know EVERYTHING about girls - there's no chance."

"Oh yeah? How about last night? You should have seen us, Alex - after you and your Mom drove away, that is. We knew your car, of course, and we recognized your Mom, but it took us a full fifteen minutes to figure out who the 'girl' in the passenger seat was. Jennifer was the one who came up with it, but it took her quite a while. I didn't believe it myself until this morning when we saw you."

"Okay, but last night was last night." Jennifer interjected. "It was dark and we only saw his head and shoulders. Think about Bill and Bob looking him over up close and personal from head to toe in broad daylight. We don't stand a chance in a thousand."

"Look," said Pat, "We'll get him made up and dressed up and then see how we feel. If it looks promising we have until Saturday to practice and get everything worked out. It doesn't seem like much time, I admit, but unless either of you can come up with a better idea, we don't stand a chance at all. I think we can pull it off! We get him made up like last night, we pad him a little and dress him just right - -- and we have until Saturday to work on him. What do you say, Alex? Are you willing to help us out here?"

I was stunned as I realized what Pat was proposing. She wanted me to masquerade as a girl in front of those boys. I couldn't even get enough breath to voice an objection. I looked at Jennifer hoping she would continue to object, but she actually seemed to be considering the idea. Suddenly the memory of my first experience in the mall came into my mind. Then I remebered my experiences with Betty, then the delivery boy, and then last night. There was no doubt that I could pass myself off as a girl in some situations, and I actually became a little excited at the thought of playing the part more completely. On the other hand, the thought of what Bill and Bob might do to me if they figured it out----. I began to shake my head as fear overruled my fantasies. "Can you imagine the beating I'd get if Bill and Bob weren't fooled?"

Pat threw in the clincher. "It's a sure thing if you don't try that we'll all get a beating, so what have you got to loose?"

She was right, of course. Left unspoken was the risk that if I didn't go along with them they would tell the tale of my hair and makeup all over town. Finally I just shrugged and asked them what they wanted me to do.

Pat broke into a big grin. "Can you do your hair and your makeup just like you had it last night?"

"Sure - uh - I think so."

"Then you get busy with that. Jen and I have some things to pick up , and we'll be back as soon as we can. Don't go anywhere."

She said this with a wink as she grabbed Jennifer's arm and led her out. I waited a few minutes after they were gone - giving myself some time to think. How had I got myself into this awful mess? Resigned to my fate, yet still a little excited to think about dressing up all the way as a girl, I went into Mom's room and sat down at her vanity. I took extra time and care with my hair and my makeup. Part of me was scared and ashamed of having to show myself to the girls this way, but part of me was excited too - it seemed like such an adventure!

I had almost an hour to sit and stew even after my hair and makeup were done. I tried to do some chores, but my nervous stomach made me spend most of the time in the bathroom. Suddenly, with a perfunctory knock at the door, Pat and Jen barged in carrying several bags. I wasn't sure what to think at first, because when they saw me they just stopped and stared. It was Jen who finally spoke first. "You know, we may have more of a chance here than I thought. Alex, you make a beautiful girl." When she said that my ears began to roar and I blushed beet red all over my body. "And your hair - do you think you can help me put mine up like that?"

"Uh, well, yes, yours is a little longer than mine...we might need to set it first to give it some body ... " as I lifted a lock of Jennifer's hair I caught sight of Pat's sly smile, and I realized that I had suddenly slipped into a completely different frame of mind - a different role. Pat realized it too, obviously, but she wasn't in the mood for teasing just then.

"Come on, Jennifer. We can worry about your hair after we get our little 'girlfriend' here all taken care of." The girls quickly emptied the bags on my bed, and it looked like they had brough everything I would need to dress completely like a girl. There was lingerie of every description, a dress, two skirt and blouse sets, shoes, belts, some jewelry and several other things. We brought a little of everything to see which sizes fit and how things would look on you. We'll have to be real careful with the shoes because some of them belong to our Moms.

Jennifer opened her purse and handed me an electric razor. "First things first: go to the bathroom and shave your legs. Make sure they're completely smooth. Then put this on..." she handed me a pair of white nylon panties. "Oh, and don't forget to do under your arms as well, then come back in here." I knew I was blushing again as I turned and walked into the bathroom.

Both of them were smiling when I returned wearing nothing but the panties and my shirt. Now they seemed to be in a much more playful mood. As I stepped over to the bed Pat ran her hand down my thigh. "My, my, my, aren't we soft and smooth." There was suddenly a very prominint reaction to Pat's playfulness, and it wasn't only blushing. "Well!" Said Jennifer, looking down at my panties, "at least one of us is going to enjoy this a little. Pat, our new girlfriend seems to have a very unladylike problem here. What can we do about that?" My embarrassment was enough to make the "problem" subside immediately, but the girls had obviously planned this whole thing for a purpose. Pat opened her purse and handed me a sanitary napkin and a thin elastic belt. She showed me how to fix the ends of the napkin into the fasteners, then she made me return to the bathroom with instructions on how to position the napkin and tuck my privates away.

Once I had the napkin and my panties back in place the girls showed me how to put on a bra ( I acted like I this was my first time) then padded it with a set of falsies. A garter belt was next, then I experienced the fantastic feel of stockings being drawn over my baby-smooth legs. I was grateful at that moment for the sanitary napkin that was hiding and restraining another reaction. Next came a half slip and camisole, then a white blouse and a tan pleated skirt with a wide belt that cinched in until I could hardly breathe. A pair of white sandals with one-inch heels completed the outfit. Somewhere in the excitement of dressing up I forgot all about any shame I ought to be feeling, and just let my enthusiasm take over. I think I was begining to feel like "just one of the girls," but suddenly there I was dressed completely like a girl for the first time. I had to put my hand to my face to prove to myself that it was really me that I was seeing in the mirror. Then I had to grab Pat's hand to steady myself as I almost fainted.

We spent some time looking me over in the mirror, then comparing makeup and hairstyling tips. I was feeling more and more comfortable as both girls complimented me on my developing skills and my eye for style. Pat eventually called us back to reality, however, and my "girl lessons" began in earnest. For the next two hours they drilled me incessantly on speaking, walking, standing and sitting like a lady. We took a break for sodas, and then Jennifer insisted I put her hair up in a Gibson Girl like mine. This led to some discussion of what I had been learning at Betty's, and before long we were trading more makeup tips and putting Pat's hair up into a French Roll.

Eventually we all realized how hungry we were, and the girls had no trouble talking me into lunch at our local Mall. The girls were from the other side of town, so it was apretty safe bet that they wouldn't be spotted, and by this time I was feeling pretty confident that no one would recognize the "old Alex" behind my new and beautiful disguise. We spent the rest of the afternoon going from one trendy store to another. Along the way Jennifer used her dad's credit card to buy a few extras she though I'd need - a purse and some more shoes, some jewelry and other accessories.

It was early in the evening when we finished and the girls decided that it was time for another test. I phoned Mom at work and got her permission to go to Pat's house for dinner. Mom was genuinely happy that I had worked things out with the girls, though she didn't ask for any details and I certainly didn't mention how I was dressed.

I couldn't believe that we could fool a woman as sophisticated as Pat's mom, and we worked out a careful plan to explain things to her if she figured me out. Somehow it worked out and we didn't need the plan at all. Both Pat's mom and dad seemed perfectly accepting of me as Pat's new girlfriend. Mrs. Simms even suggested that I accompany them on their next weekend visit to their lakeside cabin. Jennifer had a hard time keeping a straight face as we talked about that one. A few minutes after dinner we were in Pat's bedroom excitedly giggling and teasing about my first day as a "real girl," and my success with Pat's parents. Somewhere in the distance I heard the doorbell ring, and Pat's mother called up that we had visitors. Both girls jumped up and headed for the front door, dragging me with them. When they opened the door there were three tall guys standing there, and Pat invited them in as if she had been expecting them.

"Hi, guys, you're just in time. Let us grab our purses and we'll be ready to go. Oh, by the way, this is the friend we told you about. Alli, meet Paul, David and Jim."

They all said "Helloooo" in unison, and I blushed and only managed a feeble "Hi." My knees were so week I barely made it back to the bedroom.

"Pat, Jennifer, what are you doing to me? You never said anything about this. What's going on here?"

"Oh, calm down, Alex. We're just going out for burgers and a movie. We'll be home long before your curfew."

"A movie??? We're going out??? You can't be serious!"

"Stifle it, Alex." Jennifer said rudely. "You have very little time before you meet Bill and Bob, and you have to be one hundred percent believable to pull anything over on them. Tonight will give you some experience in acting like a girl around guys - you can watch us and follow our lead. Besides, we have to know how you're going to hold up under pressure. Now get your purse and let's go."

I just stood there with my mouth open and my knees knocking together. Jennifer grabbed me by the arm and began pulling me out the door. Before I knew it I was getting into the back seat of David's car. Jennifer was in the front seat next to David, and Pat had maneuvered so that I was in the middle with her and Jim on the right, and Paul on my left. It was obvious that I was to be Paul's date for the night! We went to the same burger place where Pat and Jennifer had spotted me the previous night. Just last night! So much had happened since the that it seemed like a year. The girls started right in talking and they kept the conversation fast and light through the meal and on our way to the movie. They pulled me in from time to time, and after I got the hang of boy-girl talking from the other side, I began to chime in on my own.

I thought Paul was a little more intelligent than the other two, and he made me laugh more than once with his dry wit. As we got nearer to our destination I began to realize that we were headed for the Drive In Movie at the end of town!

As we went through the gate and found a parking place near the back row of the drive-in I began to panic. Knowing the girls' reputation, particularly Jennifer's, I knew there was going to be more activity in the car than just watching the movie. When Jennifer glanced back to say something to Pat I gave her a desperate "help me" look, only to receive a smile and a wink in return. "Follow our lead" they had told me, but I was pretty sure I didn't want to go where these girls might be headed.

As the lights dimmed and the advertisements began to appear on the screen I saw Jennifer scoot closer to David in the front seat. It was already a tight squeeze with four of us in the back seat, but I felt Jim moving over to get even closer to Pat. I was pretty well frozen in place, and Paul seemed to sense my nervousness because he didn't move at all. Mercifully, the conversation kept up through the advertisements and previews, and I began to relax a little. The boys started cracking jokes at some of the dialogue on the screen, and they really were quite clever.

The mood was still light and fun, but as the main feature began all three boys shifted their arms up over the back of the seat, as if to get more comfortable. Even in the dark I could see the subtle movements as first Jennifer and then Pat leaned into their dates and allowed the boy's arm to slide down onto their shoulders. Seconds later I felt the warmth of Paul's hand on my shoulder through the thin material of my blouse. I had planned to just relax and let things happen, but I was sure Paul noticed as I immediately tensed up. I knew then that I just wasn't mentally prepared for this - everything was coming too fast. I think Pat may have sensed that things weren't going to well. She noticed someone walking by the car carrying popcorn and drinks, and casually mentioned that we had forgotten to buy some before the movie started. Within a couple of minutes she and Jen had all three boys trooping off to the snackbar for treats, and the three of us were left alone.

"Okay, Alex, what's wrong? Things seemed to be going pretty well until the feature started."

"I'm just not ready to have a guy's arm around me. I don't know what to do or how to handle the situation."

"Alex, you handle it just like any other situation with a boy. You let him go so far, then you back him off a little. When you're comfortable with that, you let him get a little farther. If he goes too far, you send him farther back than he was. Simple."

"Simple. Right." For the next few minutes the girls initiated me into the sorority of "how to manage men." By the time the boys got back my head was spinning, but the girls assured me they'd take care of the situation.

When the boys got back into the car we all assumed our former positions - me with Paul's arm around my shoulders. I was able to relax a little, knowing the girls weren't going to let me get into a situation I - or at least they - couldn't handle. Not only was I able to relax and enjoy the movie, but I began to understand what the girls had tried to explain to me. The rest of the evening was a real education for me as I watched the girls play with these guys. Fortunately, Paul was much more of a gentleman than the others and didn't try to go too far - we cuddled a little bit and ended up holding hands during the ride home. By the time we got back to Pat's house I was congratulating myself on having survived such a delicate situation. I didn't even think about how I was going to handle "saying good night" until David turned the engine off.

Paul took my hand to help me out of the car, then held on to it as he shut the door, interlacing his fingers with mine. There was a tree that sheltered some of the yard from the nearby streetlight, and Jennifer and David had stepped under the tree and deeper into the shadows. Pat and Bob lingered by the car as Paul walked me up the sidewalk to the porch. As we got to the door, Paul put his arm around my waist. I guess I knew what was coming, but my mind was blank as to what I could do about it. He was very strong, and as he pulled me to him my head went back and my eyes closed reflexively. My lips parted in a light gasp and I suddenly felt a firm, soft pressure against them. Then I felt the warmth of his breath within me and I knew he was kissing me! My head began to spin, my knees went limp and I put my hands on his arms to steady myself. He must have taken this as a sign of permission, because he pulled me tighter to him. After what seemed like an eternity he broke the embrace and looked into my eyes. I was now more confused than ever, and as he lowered his lips to mine a second time, I automatically closed my eyes and opened my lips to him. This time it was not only his warm breath that invaded me, but his tongue as well! That brought me back to my senses and I realized what was going on. Somehow my hand found the door handle and pushed the latch. I broke away from him and stepped backward through the door, almost catching his hand as I closed it in front of me. I leaned my head on the door for a long time, trying to catch my breath and regain my bearings, then I just put my back to the wall and let myself slide to the floor. I was still sitting there staring straight ahead when Pat and Jennifer came in some minutes later.

"Alex, you were wonderful! What was it like?"

"Wow, what a sexy kiss! You liked it, didn't you? Did he give you tongue?"

They were both chattering at me at the same time, and my mind was in a whirl. I couldn't believe that I had kissed a guy - twice. I knew, though, that I had passed an important test in our plan to fool Bill and Bob. As the girls drove me home we talked some more about handling guys, and I took them to task for manipulating our dates the way they had.

"Welcome to the real world, Alex. If they weren't such jerks about seeing how far they could get, maybe things would be different."

"We aren't all jerks, are we?" I asked.

Jen just gave me her most sarcastic look. "The answer is mostly 'yes,' but you've GOT to stop thinking about yourself as a guy for the next few days. You've got to be the sexiest little babe on the block by the time Bill and Bob get home. Think that over while Pat and I get things going for the next couple of days."

As we neared my house, I realized I had a couple of problems: Mom had never seen me fully dressed as a girl. Not only that, but I was sure she had been expecting me home much earlier. I had left my guy clothes at home, so it wasn't like I could go back to Pat's and change. I guess it was time to see how far Mom was really willing to let her son go with his "interests." I drew a deep breath and, with all the femininity I could muster, I walked through our front door and into the living room. Mom was on the sofa, and she was speaking as she turned toward me.

"Hi, sweetheart. You're home a little late: did you and the girls have a ----." She stopped in mid-sentence as she realized how I was dressed. "Oh, my." she gasped, and then tears came to her eyes. I thought I had really blown it and that my short career as a girl was at an abrupt end. Then she came to me and took me in her arms. As she gave me a tight hug she said "Oh, sweetheart, you're so beautiful. I'm sorry for the tears, it's just that I didn't think to see you all dressed up like that."

"You're not angry with me, are you, Mom?"

"Oh, not at all, my sweet. It's just a bit of a surprise, that's all - I - guess I was expecting to be with you when you bought your first dress."

Tears came to my eyes then, and when we finally stepped back and looked at each other, we burst into laughter: our mascara was running again. We dabbed each other's eyes, then we sat down on the sofa. I told Mom everything that had happened, though I glossed over the real reason for Jennifer and Pat's interest in dressing me up. When I got to the part about Paul and I on the porch, I hesitated for a moment, then decided that I needed Mom's help in understanding what was going on. I gave her all the details.

"You shouldn't feel bad about the kisses, sweetheart. You said you wanted to experience how it feels to be a girl, and kisses are a natural part of a young girl's growing up. You were smart to stop it where you did, however. Boys can be easy to encourage, but difficult to stop if you let them go too far." I just nodded. "There's one other thing, sweetie. That skirt you're wearing is just a little short, don't you think?"

"If you think this skirt is short you should have seen what Pat and Jennifer were wearing, especially Jennifer. We could see her hose tops when she sat down."

"Well, I don't want to downgrade your friends, Dear, but they may not be the best gauge of what's normal for a young girl your age. You above all people should know the effect that such a length can have on the young men."

She was right, of course, and I admitted that to her. Just then the phone rang, and Mom picked it up.

"Hello? Yes, this is the Howell residence. Who is calling please?" Here Mom glanced at me briefly. "Well, Paul, we usually don't allow phone calls this late at night ... Yes, I understand."

PAUL! How had he got my number? Jennifer, of course.

"Yes, that's all right. SHE's right here." Mom looked at me with a smile as she emphasized that word, and I blushed as she handed me the phone. As she did, I realized that I was going to have to use my newly-developed feminine voice in front of my Mom. But this was no time for backing out.

"Hello?"

"Alli, this is Paul."

"Hi, Paul." I glanced at Mom and she still had that sly smile on her face.

"I really had a nice time tonight, and I wanted to apologize for the way I acted."

"Oh, Paul, there's no need to apologize . .."

"Well, after we got home Pat phoned me and really laid into us for our conduct - and she was right - I guess we all got a little too aggressive."

"That's okay, Paul ..."

"Well, I ..., we'd like to make it up to you girls. Would you have dinner with us Thursday night at the Elms. Real formal and everything. We'll wear coats and ties and be on our best behavior. Please say yes - the other girls said that it would be up to you."

Well, it seemed that Pat and Jen had indeed got things going for the next couple of days. "Thursday night?" I looked at Mom and she nodded her assent. What was I getting myself into? But how could I refuse?

"Uh, I guess that would be all right, Paul."

"GREAT! Uh, I mean, thanks so much - I promise we'll behave. Seven O'Clock, then?"

"Yes, seven will be fine."

"Goodnight, Alli."

"Goodnight, Paul"

When I told Mom they had asked us to the Elms she got very excited. "We'll shop tomorrow after I finish work and find you just the right dress to wear. Hurry and change for bed, then come into my room - we'll do each other's hair and talk about our plans."

Her obvious excitement was just a little too much for me. "Mother, how can you be so excited about your son dressing up like a girl and going on dates? I mean, I'm not complaining, exactly, but don't you feel like this is all a little too wierd?"

"Well, sweetheart, it was you who chose to accept the invitation, wasn't it?" I nodded my head. "Of your own free will, right?" I blushed and nodded my head again. For some reason I was beginning to feel more than a little ashamed of myself.

"Well then, since you've made up your mind, I see no reason to do anything but enjoy the situation. Ever since I began to suspect your interests I've been thinking about what it would be like to have a daughter to go shopping with and do these other fun things. Now I get to find out."

I just shook my head and walked down the hall, wondering again why I was doing all these strange things. When I looked into my room, though, I suddenly forgot all about being confused or ashamed. Mom had been as good as her word: laid out on the bed was a complete peignoir set all in white ruffles and lace. There was a nightgown, panties, a full-length robe, and slippers to match. My heart skipped a beat as I stared at that beautiful lingerie. It was gorgeous, and it really was MINE! I hurried as best I could to undress myself and put my new possessions neatly away, then revelled in the luxury of pulling on those beautiful night things. When I skipped into Mom's room there was another surprise waiting for me: she was wearing exactly the same peignior! As we stood together at her full-length mirror, we really did look like Mother and Daughter.

It was my turn first, and I sat at Mom's vanity while she brushed out my hair and curled it. Then she sat while I did the same for her. She helped quite a bit with the curlers, of course, but I felt that I was getting the hang of it by the time we finished. All the while we talked more about what the boys were like, what the other girls wore, and how they manipulated the boys all evening.

"Well, you're getting quite a little insight into these relationships, aren't you? I hope it doesn't make you too cynical about girls from now on - they aren't all like Jennifer, you know."

"I can tell that, Mom. Pat seems very different, although she goes along with Jen up to a point. But it seems mostly the guys' fault anyway. If they had more interest in us as people, and not just as the next conquest, they'd see through these little games. We wouldn't have to manipulate them at all, really, and we still could have a great time."

"Well, sweetheart, if you can just remember that when the shoe is back on the other foot, this whole experience will have been worthwhile."

Her comments made sense, and I began to think of myself on my next date as a guy. For some reason, the thought made me vaguely uneasy: would I remember these things well enough to act differently? Exactly when would I go out again as a guy?

I lay awake for a long time that night, experiencing all the sensations of the soft, silky clothes I was wearing, and thinking about the fun talk Mom and I had. Then my mind turned to my date with Paul, and what Thursday night might bring. When I finally fell asleep I had several dreams that I'd rather not discuss, but I slept really well.

Wednesday:

I woke up very excited for the plans of the next day. I showered quickly, being careful not to get my curlers wet, then I dressed and did my makeup. When I finally took my hair out of the curlers and brushed it out, I found that it was easy to put it up in the French roll I had practiced on Pat the day before. Pat phoned right after breakfast, and the three of us went out shopping again. It was another grueling day of learning how to be feminine, but I had to admit to myself that this was beginning to be a lot of fun.

They got me home just in time to meet Mom, and we began what turned out to be a marathon shopping experience. I quickly forgot my fatigue from the day's activity, as I began to try on dress after party dress in practically every store in town. Along the way, Mom bought me some more lingerie, a couple of skirts and blouses, and two pairs of shoes. When we weren't talking about clothes and shoes and makeup, Mom was critiquing my new feminine voice and mannerisms. We also discussed what my upcoming date with Paul would be like, and some of the things I should and shouldn't do. I found out that Mom was really smart about relationships, even if it had been a long time since she had been "out."

For my dinner dress we selected a shade of rose that Mom and the saleslady agreed was one of my best colors. The design of the dress was modest (for Mom), but sophisticated enough to satisfy me. I had the impression that I would be competing with some eye-catching fashions on Pat and Jennifer, and I didn't want Paul to feel like he'd gotten the wallflower among the roses. The dress had a draped neck and bodice, rather high, and a straight skirt with just a hint of a slit in the side. Mom bought me a pair of matching pumps with heels that were almost three inches high, and some clip-on earrings and a necklace. When she offered to buy me a set of lingerie that also matched, I readily agreed.

That night Mom had me model my purchases, then we curled each other's hair again. It was exciting and, at the same time, a little amazing to me that Mom was so ... what? ... so open to the idea that her only son was now dressing up and going out on a date with a guy. As I thought about it, I realized that, while I was still a little amazed at MYSELF, part of me was very excited with what I was doing.

Thursday:

Seven PM the next evening found me just finishing my makeup when the doorbell rang. Mom answered the door and invited Paul into the living room while I put on my finishing touches. My stomach was turning flip-flops, and I could see a very distinct flush under the foundation and blush on my cheeks. I couldn't even define the reason for my feelings: my mind was a complete blank to everything but the immediate task of finishing my beauty preparations. Fortunately, Mom was a good conversationalist and put Paul at ease for those last few minutes. Paul stood as I entered the room, and I could see he had a corsage that fortunately, matched my dress. Mom was prepared, and tactfully took the flower from Paul, relieving us all from the embarrassment and risk of having Paul try to pin it on the bodice of my dress. To my anguish, Mom insisted on taking several pictures of us standing together.

We finally got out of there, and to my chagrin, I found that David and Bob were waiting in Paul's car: they had decided to pick me up first! In my sweetest voice I apologized to them as Paul opened the door for me. Remembering my manners, I slid across the seat to unlock the door on the driver's side. Somehow it seemed like it would be too much of a negative signal if I had slid back to my side, so I stayed in the middle next to Paul. Jen and Pat did an intentional stall, and I was faced with the challenge of fifteen minutes of conversation with the three guys. Fortunately, Bob and David enjoyed talking about themselves and their sports exploits, and I think they were gratified to find a "girl" who seemed to understand what they were talking about. Paul didn't said very little about himself, but from reading between the lines I could tell that the other two had a healthy respect for his abilities too.

When the girls finally did waltz down the stairs, all of us just stared at them for a few silent seconds. The boys had promised to be on their best behavior, and Pat and Jennifer had obviously decided to put them to the test. Where my dress was sophisticated yet modest, theirs were selected to show it all. Jennifer, in particular, was wearing a little yellow halter-style shift that clung to her every ample curve. She was obviously wearing nothing underneath.

Aside from the stares and glares that Jen got, the night passed uneventfully. It was obvious, and a little funny, that the boys - even Paul - were having a very hard time keeping their eyes away from Jen's - - - features. I have to admit that I was torn between watching her, and watching the guys trying not to watch her. They were all so distracted that they never noticed the amused glances that Pat and I exchanged all night long. In my opinion, Pat in her black spaghetti-strap slip dress was at least as attractive as Jen, and I had to stop myself several times from looking at her in a very unladylike manner.

Somewhere during the evening I found out that Pat and Jennifer had already agreed to another date the next night, if the boys had successfully behaved. As they were driving us home we had to admit to them that they had been perfect gentlemen. Well, at least their hands had stayed in line, even if their eyes hadn't. We made plans for them to pick us all up at Jen's house on Friday night, and we'd go to the amusement park in the next town. When Paul walked me to my front door at the end of the evening, I was pleased that he had been more of a gentleman than the other two. At least he had made an effort at conversation with Pat and me during the evening, I decided that he had lived up to his promise to behave, and deserved a little reward. As he gave my hand a goodnight squeeze, I turned to him and raised my lips to his. He needed no more encouragement than that, but to my relief he only gave me a straight kiss and didn't try to go any farther.

Friday:

Friday morning Betty had arranged to take off work and take me on our second shopping trip. Mom had told her about my dates, and Betty was thrilled to be taking me out as a girl. I was beginning to really understand what girls got out of their shopping sprees: I enjoyed all the attention, and I really had fun talking over all the choices of colors and accessories, comparing creative ideas and seeing what would work. There was a companionship and an equality in all this that I hadn't felt in any of my boyish activities.

Betty drove for over an hour, taking us into the city to a special shop that she had heard about. It was called the Spotlight, and catered mainly to the theater industry. Betty explained to me that if I was going on dates I needed something more than regular falsies for my figure, and something better than a sanitary napkin to keep my "profile" in line. For some reason I wasn't the least embarrassed as she describe the "helps" we would be buying. As we walked in the door, we were greeted by a rather effeminate man who offered to help us find things. Betty asked him if he sold gaffs, and his response almost made us burst out laughing.

"Of course we have gaffs, honey, but if you girls are buying for your boyfriends, you really should bring them into the store to get the proper fit."

When I left the store I was the proud owner of three "caching" garments, and a set of small fake breasts that actually glued onto my chest and felt for all the world like they were real. It had been embarrassing at first to have Betty and the clerk both helping with such intimate fittings, but somewhere during my time in the shop I just stopped worrying about it and concentrated on learning how to position everything correctly. With my new "profile" I felt completely at ease trying on the shorts and top sets that Betty bought me.

On the way home the conversation turned to my plans for the summer. By this time I really didn't want to complain about what Mom had made me do, but I mentioned to Betty that the current "dress and grooming standards" had put a definite crimp in my job search plans.

"You know, Alli, your Mom mentioned her concern to me on that very topic, and I think I may have a solution." My ears perked up immediately. "Business at the salon has picked up quite a bit lately, and I need extra help. Trouble is, I need half of two people. The girls I interview to do shampooing and help with the beauty work won't stoop to doing the stocking and cleanup, but I don't have enough of either type of work to hire someone full-time. If you wouldn't mind doing both types of work I could offer you pretty much a full-time job all summer long."

"Wow, that would be great! But would your clients be uncomfortable with a 'shampoo boy' rather than a shampoo girl?"

"And who would tell them you were a boy?"

My mouth dropped open for a second. "You mean you want me to work at your salon all summer long as a girl?"

Betty chuckled. "I think everyone would feel more comfortable with that arrangement - including yourself. Besides, you still have two weeks to wear your hair up, don't you? And I need someone to start right away. I don't think you'd want to dress as a boy around the shop with your hair done up, would you?"

"Well no, but----."

"And you certainly couldn't start as a girl, then change back to a boy after two weeks, now could you?"

I fell silent as I realized what she was implying. If I accepted her job offer I would be dressing as a girl all Summer long. Till now I hadn't really thought about how long I was going to play this little charade. I guess I had expected it to somehow be over after the next two weeks of Mom's 'standards.' If Pat's plan worked, we'd be rid of the boys by Saturday night - and wouldn't the girls be expecting me to change back to a boy after that? Then I thought of my talks with Mom, my shopping trips and all the fun I'd had in the last few days. Clearly, Mom was perfectly happy with me dressing up - and I had not felt this close to her in several years. Accepting Betty's offer meant we might be able to keep that closeness all Summer long. Just then Betty broke into my thoughts with the deciding argument: "The job starts at a dollar above minimum wage, and you get to keep all the tips you get as a shampoo girl."

A little thrill went through me as I accepted Betty's offer, and she seemed genuinely pleased to have me as her new shampoo and stock girl. We agreed that I would start the next Monday.

As we drove toward home Betty told me that Jennifer had phoned her and asked if the three of us could come in for the works on Saturday morning. Apparently Jennifer wanted all three of us to look our best for the boys. Betty asked me all about our plan to fool the boys, and it was evident from her questions that she thought it was just a practical joke. I was relieved that Jen hadn't told her our real reasons. I knew that Betty would be sure to tell Mom, especially if she thought I would be in any danger.

I thanked Betty profusely as she dropped me off in front of my house, and she assured me that she'd had as much fun as I. She told me she'd have three very special hairdo's all picked out for us the next morning. I had just enough time to freshen up a little and shave my legs and get over to Jen's. They were really impressed to see my "new features" and my skimpy shorts and top outfit. I told them Betty and I had made some "special purchases" to help my figure. They asked me if I was feeling a "little sexy" and I had to admit that I was. The girls were obviously pleased, and they explained that the boys would be expecting a "reward" for their behavior on our dinner date. I didn't even have to ask what they meant, and I mentally prepared myself right then with the limits I would set for myself and Paul.

The boys were obviously pleased with the way we looked when they showed up. Following the lead of the other girls, I gave Paul a quick kiss to say hello, and I let him put his arm around me on the way to the amusement park. We held hands as the guys paid for the tickets, and we headed straight for the Ferris Wheel.

As the wheel started turning, we began to look out at the scenery around us. It was a little breathtaking at first to be going up that fast. I glanced back at Pat and Bob in the seat behind us and saw that they were already locked in a clinch, oblivious to what was around them. It almost made me a little jealous. I glanced forward, and Jennifer and David smiled and waved at us, then Jennifer turned her face to his and planted her lips firmly on his mouth. My stomach did a little flip-flop as I felt Paul's fingers on my chin and realized what I was about to do. Strangely, I actually wanted to kiss Paul: he had been a perfect gentleman the night before, as good as his word, and he deserved more of a reward than that little peck on the lips I had given him. To resist now, in front of the others, would be a real blow to his ego, and he didn't deserve that. As he turned my face to his, I smiled into his eyes and moistened my lips. His hand slid across my cheek and my eyes closed as he pressed his lips to mine. It was a soft, tender kiss, but it seemed to last forever. When we broke for a breath, I glanced around and realized that Jen and Pat and their dates were all watching us. I knew I was blushing, but I was determined not to act embarrassed. I smiled to no one in particular, then I reached up and ran my fingers through Paul's hair. Pulling his head down to me, I pressed my lips to his. His arm slid down to my waist and I let him pull me closer. This time when I felt his tongue I didn't pull back. I opened my lips wider and fully answered his kiss. His aftershave was mingling with my perfume, and the effect of the ferris wheel and the smells and feels and the realization of what I was doing was all too much for me. For several minutes I just abandoned myself to the feel of his warm breath, his soft lips and his gentle, probing tongue.

It all caught up to me when his hand moved from my waist over my hip to my bare thigh. I felt a little thrill go through me, but I suddenly realized I was past my limit. I broke our kiss and dropped my hand to his. I took his hand off my thigh, but not wanting to be too abrupt with him, I kept hold of it and interlaced our fingers. He sensed that he had gone too far, I think, and we separated ever so slightly and began to look at the scenery.

As soon as the wheel stopped the girls pulled me into the nearest restroom. We spent some time as the girls made me tell them every detail of what we did and how it felt. By the time we had freshened our lipstick and rejoined the boys I think they were a little miffed at us for taking so long. It didn't take much more than a squeeze of the hand and a little cajoling before we had them all smiling again, though.

Somewhere during the evening I forgot the strangeness of what I was doing and just began to enjoy my date. Back at Jen's house each couple found a private place in the yard and I spent several minutes enjoying the warmth of Paul's strong arms around me while we kissed tenderly. We finally said goodnight and Jen hearded Pat and me toward the basement where we could talk without waking her parents.

On the way down the stairs Jen and Pat began taking off their shoes, then theirs shorts and tops. By the time we got to her rec room the girls had nothing on but their panties! Pat disappeared into the bathroom, but Jen turned to me and gestured toward the phone. "Why don't you call your Mom and see if you can sleep over with us? That way we can all go straight to Betty's in the morning?" As Jen finished talking she noticed the look on my face and she put her hands around my neck and smiled slyly into my eyes. "Now, now, my little girlfriend. You need to save looks like that for your boyfriend Paul. Remeber that you're just one of the girls around here - at least until tomorrow night." Just then Pat emerged from the bathroom wearing a little blue nightie. She threw a yellow babydoll top at me and both girls watched as I slipped out of my shorts and top. For some reason I was feeling modest about my new breasts and started to pull the babydolls over my bra. The girls would have none of that, and they insisted that I strip and show them my "special purchases." I really should have refused, but I knew that this too was a part of perparing me for my role with "the boys." When the girls were satisfied that they had done all they could to mortify me, they had me phone my Mom. Somehow, I knew what she would say, but I had to give it my best shot.

"Hello, mom? It's Alli. Mom, we all have appointments first thing in the morning at Betty's salon, and the other girls have asked me to sleep over so we can go right there. Would that be okay with you?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone before Mom answered. "Sweetheart, I know you're really getting into your new experiences, and I'm all for that. It really is your choice, of course, but you might consider what the reaction would be if the 'other girls' parents found out about your true - uh - status."

"Yes, I guess your right, Mom. I'll be home in a little while."

I turned and shrugged at the girls, but they weren't quite ready to let me off so easily. They made me put on the nightie they had given me, and we sat around for another hour while Jen and Pat teased me and told dirty jokes. It was rather grotesque in a way, but they soon had me laughing along with them. I knew they were trying to prepare me even more for the role I was to be playing.

The Big Day

The girls didn't get me home until almost 4AM, but they were at my door again promptly at 8 for our appointment at Betty's salon. Fortunately, since we were going to have "the works" done at the salon, it only took me a few minutes to dress and brush my hair back into a pony tail. Jen had insisted I wear her red miniskirt and matching blouse, with red high heels sandals she had bought for me. The outfit had a gold chain for a belt, and Pat had brought a small gold chain necklace and two bracelets to complete the outfit. I thought Jen's skirts would be cut for her longer legs, but I still had trouble keeping my garter tabs from showing when I got into the car. I was so tired I didn't even have the energy to worry about how exposed I was, or to be nervous for what we were about to do.

Betty was waiting at the shop with two of her best operators and they started on us right away. They gave us each a shampoo and set, and while we were under the dryers we all got manicures. My nails were fairly long now, not having been cut for almost three weeks, and the girl who was doing my manicure filed them to a nice almond shape. When she asked me what color I wanted for my polish I didn't hesitate. I had already spotted a red polish that matched my skirt and shoes. Before they combed out our sets we sat around Betty's table and conspired on each others' makeup. They did the other girls first, and by the time my turn came we were all having great fun. Betty and her girls were fussing over all of us and telling us how good we would look for our boyfriends, but most of the compliments were sent in my direction. I'm not sure how much of that had been planned before hand, just to get my confidence up, but I loved every minute of the special attention. Was it just my imagination, or did Betty's operators think I was just one of the girls?

As I was about to get out of the makeup chair Jen put her hand on my shoulder. "Just a minute, Alli, I think there's just one thing missing from your 'look.' Betty, I want to treat her to something special this morning." I looked up and caught her gesture toward the sign in the window: special on ear piercing. I flushed red and my stomach did a flipflop. I knew I should protest such a permanent, feminizing change to my appearance, but I just couldn't. All week long I had been secretly admiring the earrings the other girls had been wearing, and wondering how it would feel to have my own. As it turned out, protesting wouldn't have worked anyway. Jen had obviously set this up with Betty beforehand: she already had the studs lying in a dish of alcohol next to me. As Betty marked my ears, Jen explained that the guys would be noticing every detail and this was just another way of insuring that our deception would be complete. I gave her a skeptical look, but my mouth was so dry I couldn't have said a word if I had wanted to. It was good that I was sitting down for this, because I almost fainted when I heard that little "pop" as the studs were driven into each lobe. Of all the changes I had gone through in the past few days, and all the experiences I'd had, this one seemed to have the most profound effect on me. As I examined the tiny diamonds now glistening at my ears, I really FELT like a girl.

When the stylists were through with us, Jen had a French Roll that was perfect, with little tendrils that curled down her forehead and the nape of her neck. Pat's style was even more sophisticated: they had pulled her hair straight back and pinned it in single curls descending from the crown to the nape. Even though I was feeling very girlish, I couldn't help but stare at her: she looked delicious.

They had parted my hair on the side and swept it back to the crown in a wave that covered the tops of my ears. With what was left of my hair and a little matching hairpiece, they had formed a bunch of sausage curls that bounced and tickled my neck at each movement of my head. Little tendrils curled down from each ear. Betty insisted that we pose for her camera, and she took several shots of us individually and in groups with her and her stylists. Then it was off to Jen's house for the big occasion.

As we were walking out the door of the salon, Betty gave me an extra hug and said "See you bright and early Monday morning, Hon." I flinched at that, hoping the girls wouldn't notice, but Betty went even further. When she saw Jen and Pat's puzzled look she said: "Didn't Alli tell you? SHE's starting as my new stock clerk and shampoo girl on Monday!"

Jen looked at me like I had just crawled from under a rock. She started to say something, but Pat gave her an elbow in the ribs. "I think it's great that Alli has found a job for the Summer. I'd like to see you try to hold down a regular job, Jen."

On the way back to Jen's house she shot a couple of verbal barbs at me, with Pat defending me all the way. Eventually Jen tried to cover her feelings about me dressing as a girl all Summer long, but she obviously had some bad opinions of a guy who would do such a thing. For my part, I felt strangely unaffected by the whole conversation. I thought Jen was being a little hypocritical: she had been a pretty forceful accomplice in my feminization all the way through. More than that, though, was my own feeling of --- comfort, I guess --- with my choice for the summer. The emotions and the experiences were all very new and unsettling, but it seemed like fate that had brought me this far.

We had about an hour before the boys were to arrive, and we spent it going over every detail of our plan as we did some last-minute primping and perfume selecting. When the doorbell rang I stayed in Jen's room as the other two went down to greet their men. I heard the whole conversation. The boys barely said hello before they began talking about "Alex" and demanding to see "him." The girls really built it up, trying to put them off and acting like they were real reluctant to do what the boys were asking. Finally they gave in and called for me to come downstairs.

I took several deep breaths, then slowly opened the door from Jen's room. My mouth felt like cotton and it took all my strength and concentration just to keep my knees from knocking as I started down the stairs. My eyes were fixed on my feet, but after the first couple of stairs I was able to force a smile to my lips and I raised my eyes to see "the boys" for the first time. These were two huge guys - each of them well over six feet tall and built like trucks. What saved the day for me was their expressions: they both had their mouths wide open and I swear I could almost see the drools. From where I was on the stairs I knew they could see all the way up my short skirt, and I could tell that their eyes were jumping from my (slightly padded) panties to my face and back again. A chill went through me as I realized how exposed I was, and I actually quickened my pace to get to the bottom of the stairs. It was obvious that the realistic jiggle at my bodice was a second focal point of the boys' attention. The chill I was feeling changed to a little thrill as I realized that it was already game over: I was the luscious bait for these fish, and they were ready to swallow me whole. The other girls were knockouts, it was true, and probably prettier than I was, but they were dressed much more modestly - and the boys seemed to be reacting as we had planned it. The rest of this little exercise was just a question of timing.

My smile became genuine as Jen introduced me to the two apes. I stood very close to Bill so he could smell my perfume. As Jen said his name I gave his hand a friendly squeeze and then stood on my tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. I did the same for Bob, saying that the girls had told me so much about them that I felt we were already good friends. You could have cut the silence with a knife.

Jen suggested we sit in the living room for a few minutes to get better acquainted. As we turned in that direction the boys actually ran into each other and Bill nearly fell over backward. Pat and Jen were biting their lips to keep from laughing out loud. I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my smile - I hadn't dreamed that my little masquerade could be so successful. The boys and their girls all squeezed together on the sofa, and I sat on an overstuffed chair directly opposite. With my legs crossed I knew they were getting another good shot of my stocking tops and panties and, sure enough, the boys were so distracted they could hardly hold the thread of the conversation. I'm sure they had wanted to question us about the night of the party, but they were feeling pretty foolish over their obvious "mistake" about now. Just at the right moment Jen's mom came in from the back yard and asked us to go to the store for a few last-minute things for the cookout.

Bob and Pat sat in the back seat of the car, but Jen maneuvered it so that I was between her and Bill in the front. We kept a racy conversation going, and I tried to fill my role as a fun-loving gal every bit as "experienced" as Jen and Pat. Following our plan, I took every opportunity to touch Bill and smile at him as often as possible. We kept this up when we got back to the house, and I could tell that the boys were getting ripe for the next part of our plot. Bill in particular had a reputation for daring and sudden conquests in dangerous places. That was one of the things that had attracted Jen to him at first, but she soon realized that Bill hadn't stopped with her "conquest." Now she and all of us were counting on Bill to stay true to form with his latest target: me.

Sure enough, just before we were about to sit down to eat to opportunity came up. Jen's mom asked her to go down to the basement pantry to get a second bottle of catsup. Jen and Pat pretended to be busy with a vegetable plate and asked if I could go down instead. I said I'd do it, and Bill volunteered to show me where the pantry was. I saw a signal pass between Bill and Bob, and as we headed downstairs I saw Bob sort of following us at a distance. Apparently he was going to be the "lookout." I began to feel a little queasy as I realized that they had obviously done this sort of thing several times before. Would the timing work out?

When we got to the pantry Bill turned on the light and stepped back to let me in. It seemed like a perfect gentleman's gesture, but now he was blocking to doorway, and he had full view of my rear as I stooped to look at the bottom shelves. The catsup was on the lowest shelf, of course. As I bent down to get the bottle I felt his hand on my thigh, just at the edge of my dress. I gave a little yelp, and as I straightened up he pushed my back against the wall and leaned into me, making it impossible for me to move. I gasped and he put his mouth over my lips and jammed his tongue into me. He really was an animal - no finesse at all - and I found myself comparing his incompetence to Paul's smooth and gentle embrace. I tried to fantasize that this WAS Paul, and that helped to calm me just a little. I was struggling for air at this point, and Bill had me pinned so hard against the wall that I couldn't move. I felt his hands pushing my dress up over my hips, and I thought for an instant that I would have to simply surrender and give him what he wanted. Then I realized that I COULDN'T give him what he wanted, and he was quickly approaching the point where he would discover that fact. Gathering all my willpower I forced myself to relax and I ran my hands over his huge arms and up into his hair. He took this as a sign of surrender and he broke the "liplock" to take a breath. Letting myself fantasize about Paul again, I smiled up into his eyes and brought my hand to his cheek. He shifted enough to give me some balance, and he began to run one of his hands up my side toward my breasts as he closed his eyes for another kiss. Just as our lips were about to meet for the second time, I drew a deep breath and screamed as loud as I could. At the same time I brought my knee up between his legs as hard as I could. Bill doubled over in pain and turned away from me, but as I tried to scoot around him to get out, he came back up and swung at me with the back of his hand, cursing me at the same time. My shoulder took most of the impact, but the force of the blow threw me against the open door like a rag doll. I seemed to just hang there for an instant as the inertia wore off, then I slid to the floor in a heap. Meanwhile, Bill had doubled back over and was groaning in pain.

Of course, everyone on the block had heard my scream, and in an instant Jen's father was in the room, followed by Bob and then the girls and Jen's mom. Walter assessed the situation in one glance, then grabbed Bill by his shirt and began to drag him from the room. On the way out he grabbed Bob by the ear and forced both of them up the stairs and out the front door. Each of the boys outweighed him by thirty pounds at least, but they offered no resistance. We could hear Walter yelling as he threw them out the door that if he ever caught them near any of "his girls" again, they'd find themselves dead or in jail. That was it - it was over.

Jen and her mom helped me off the floor and into a nearby chair. I was sobbing uncontrollably and had my face in my hands. Although all my (natural and artificial) body parts seemed to be in place, my body ached and my face burned where Bill had slapped me. But the physical pain was a secondary consideration: inside I was a real mess. It was a great relief that our plan seemed to have worked, but part of me felt really dirty for having enticed Bill and set him up that way. The word he had used on me, "slut," kept running through my mind.

Everyone gathered around me and offered their comfort. In a short time someone found some humor in the situation, talking about Bill's "wounded ape" look after I had kneed him. In a few minutes my sobs had changed to laughter, and I began to wipe away the tears and mascara with several tissues.

By this time, of course, the burgers were burned and the cookout was pretty well ruined. Jen's mom and dad suggested that they stay and clean up, but that maybe we girls would like to drive out to their beach house to sort of "pull ourselves together." I started to protest - I desperately wanted to be alone right then - but before I knew it the three of us were in the car headed for the beach. For an instant I wondered what Mom's reaction would be when Jen's mother phoned to explain everything to her. How would she respond when she heard that her "daughter" was on her way to a sleepover with two "other girls?"

But then, I had other things to be concerned about. I was between the two girls in the front seat of the car. Pat was driving, and Jen had her arm around me, still trying to reassure me. We weren't far down the road when the tone of the conversation changed, however. Jen put her hand on my knee and suggested to Pat that it was time to celebrate our victory over the boys. Pat agreed and, putting her hand on my other knee, she suggested that I deserved a special reward for my special part in the plot. They told me they had really enjoyed having "Alli" as a friend, but asked if I would let them treat my like "Alex" for the next few hours. How could I refuse?

We stayed at the beach house 'till late Sunday afternoon, and every minute of it was heaven. The girls spent the whole time teaching me EVERYTHING I never knew about boys and girls together. It almost seemed that they were competing to see which one could keep my interest up the longest and give me the most pleasure. There were a few catnaps along the way, and the girls even talked me into a quick swim and suntan session on Sunday morning, but the rest of the time was spent in an overpowering lesson in long-endurance pleasure. By the time they drove me up to my house, I was so spent I could hardly walk. Pat helped me carry my things to the front door, then gave me a long deep kiss.

"I guess with your new job starting tomorrow this is good-bye to 'Alex' for a while - but we'll drop by the salon this week and see how 'Alli' is getting along." With another quick kiss and a wink she was gone.

Mom met me just inside the door and helped me take my things into my room. She started out with a very stern look on her face, but I think she realized how emotionally and physically tired I was, and she kept the conversation light until after I had napped and eaten dinner.

That night we talked about all that had happened over the past weeks. It turned out that Mom had pretty well figured out everything, including our little plot with the boys, and what had gone on at the beach house. I knew she wasn't pleased with some of the things I had done, but surprisingly, she didn't seem to judge me at all. Instead, she expressed her concern for the physical and emotional dangers I had faced - and was still facing. We talked a lot about the implications of working all summer as a girl. I was still a little confused about where it all was leading, but it seemed that the job and the situation was just "right" for me, somehow. We agreed that we would be entirely honest with each other from that point on, and that we would talk about our feelings as often as possible. I was thrilled that we were becoming so close again, and it seemed to confirm my decision about the summer. By the end of the evening Mom seemed to feel exactly as I did: we weren't sure where they would lead, but we were both looking forward to the days ahead.

End of "Alex." The summer and following school year are "yet another story."