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The Model By Bobbie Peters The peace and quiet of a summer Sunday afternoon was broken by the shrill voice of my sister, Jean, as she walked through the living room. "I need a head to work on and I need it now," she said to Mom. "Dear, I just don't have the time or patience to spare." Sis was persistent. "I need practice rolling hair or I'll never pass tomorrow's test." "Practice on the wig," Mom suggested as she prepared lunch for the family. Squiggling up her face, Sis persisted, "Maaaa, you know that cheap wig keeps coming off the stand everytime I try to comb it. Anyway, the test is on a real person." "Sweetheart, I was your subject one time and nearly caught my death of cold while you worked for two hours to set my wet hair. Remember, dear?" "But Mom, you know how much you paid for this semester of beauty college, so if I fail, it'll be all your fault," my sister cried. But Mom was unmoveable. This was one time it seemed that my sister wouldn't get her way. Unfortunately for me, my father was in the family room, which was next to the kitchen, and overheard the conversation. "Robert, come hear." Damn, I thought. "Robert," was the name my parents used when giving me orders. "Robert, come here," Dad called again but with a sense of urgency. Don't make me chase all over for you." Reluctantly I walked over to where he was seated in his favorite Easy Back Chair reading the paper. "Robert, your sister needs practice for a test she's taking. Will you PLEASE be her model for this one time?" Dad said in pleading tone of voice. "Of course I will... then... I just couldn't help it, but I burst out laughing. Like sure; ya really," I chuckled and walked away. Now Dad is a calm type of guy but he can be stern if he wants to and he was this time. "Robert, give you sister a break and help her... us... out," he said. "It's not as if you have anything better to do and we paid... your mom and I have been after you for years get your hair cut... so you might as well put your hair to good use." "Ok, Ok !" I reluctantly agreed. For some reason my father has to lecture everytime he tells me to do some thing. With a gleeful smile on her face, my sister said to follow her as she walked to the bathroom, glancing over her shoulder to be sure I was following. I'm sure she would have loved to see me get another lecture from Father. "First I have to brush your hair." Sis ordered, "Here, you sit on the stool." I sat down on the metal legged stool and Sis sat on another one behind me. In front of us was a double basin counter and a mirror the length of the counter. "I can do that," I protested as she pulled off the band around my ponytail and began to brush my hair. "You be quiet," she said. With long strokes Sis brushed my hair for several minutes. Mom had done this once or twice but this was sort of, well unsettling, having a girl, my sister, brush it. What made it even more weird was watching the whole business in a mirror. Sis had a smile on her face as she pulled the brushed through my hair, gathered it in each hand and brushed the sides, and then lifted it up and brushed the bottom side. "I have to wash your hair, so kneel down by the side of the tub. Better take off the T-shirt cause it'll get wet." So I did, but to my amazement Sis did the same, that is she took off her white blouse, saying that she didn't want to get it wet. This was no big deal because she was always walking in and out of the bathroom and kitchen in her bra; anyway it covered more than her bathing suit, but still I'd never seen her in her bra this close. We moved the 4 feet or so across the room to the tub, a Jacuzzi really, where I rested on my arms on the rim. When I was settled, Sis wet my hair using a hand shower massager and lathered it with shampoo. To my surprise I enjoyed the aromatic smell of the shampoo, the sudsing sound of the lather, and soothing feel of the warm water. Her nails moved over my scalp and her fingers pulled through my long wet lathered hair, starting at the crown and down to the nape and finally to the ends of the hair, where she scrunched the hair real well. Then she rinsed, lathered, and rinsed again, applied conditioner, and rinsed a final time. My hair was long enough to almost reach the bottom of the tub so she had enough to practice with. "Most girls would die to have hair like yours," she said as she finished me off with a towel wrapped turban-like around my head. I probably should have protested more than I did, but it kinda fun. In fact, I couldn't help but almost drift off into a sleep; it felt so relaxing. Now my 22 year old Sis is a real good looking babe with mid-back light brown hair, a great face, and a fantastic bod. Most 16 year old guys would die to have a doll like her hovering over them; and I'd swear her boobs poked me a couple of times. Being placed so close to her bod gave me some wicked thoughts, I have to admit. "Now for the cut," she said. "You mean there's more? You know, girl, you didn't say anything about a hair cut." I protested. "Of course silly, I sure didn't need you to practice washing hair; anyone can do that and I sure can't roll uneven hair; I'd be wasting my time," Sis answered back. Back on our stools, Sis covered me with a sheet and handed me a magazine of girls' hairdos. "This is going to be you in just a little while," she said pointing to a picture of a girl in shoulder length waves and curls. As I stared at the picture, I felt a wide toothed comb sliding through my wet hair. "Ouch!" I cried. "Oh, shut up, you little sissy," Sis snapped at me. "I'm not killing you; it's only a snag. Now I'm going to cut your hair for the style." "Your hair is long and thick but easy to work with," Sis said sweetly. "Be sure to gently comb your hair because wet hair stretches and is easily broken," she said like she was reading a book. I felt the small toothed comb run through my hair as she sectioned it off and then she pinned it up. I felt the tug of each section of hair and the clicking of the scissors as she cut the back underneath first. She sectioned, cut, and pinned over and over again. "If you use one of Mom's big scissors, you'd get done a lot sooner," I said. "If I used Mom's scissors, you'd be missing an ear by this time," she answered me. I didn't laugh cause I believed it. Of course Mom and Dad had to come in and out all the time and interrupt her with their stares. "See," Sis said. "I'm only cutting a little off, to even out the length. I was relieved to see only small pieces of wet hair drop on the sheet. I'd fought Mom for ever, it seems, to let my hair grow and enjoyed this little bit of rebellion. Anyway, I think my parents and I talked about me getting a hair cut more than any other subject so I didn't want my sister to ruin it for me. "Finished! Sis exclaimed. "Now comes the hard part, but we have to go to the living room for this. My back can't take this stool. I was uncomfortable also, so I didn't disagree with her. Sis sat on the living room couch and I sat on a hassock in front of her. She brought with her all kinds of stuff, including a plastic cover which she spread over me and tied in back of my neck. "Here hold these," she said as she dropped lots of pink hair rollers into my lap. "We start at the front, then the sides, and finally the back," Sis said, talking like a textbook. "I'm combing smoothly a section of hair about an inch deep and half an inch shorter than the roller. Now I'm combing it straight out up from your scalp, spraying setting lotion on it, wrapping an end paper over the hair, sliding it to the ends, and holding it. Hand me a roller." I did, gingerly picking up one with two fingers and handing it to her over my shoulder. "Now I'm placing the roller next to the end paper, and smoothly and tautly winding a section of hair around the roller." she continued. "Jean, it's too tight," I whined as she secured the roller with a bobby pin. But I was ignored. My sister was in one of her trances. "Now I'm pinning the roller on the bottom, attaching the first roller with a pin at the base of the roller, not the top or you'll leave a mark on the finished hairdo." Section by section she combed, sprayed, and rolled, attaching the second roller to the first one and so on and so on. Finally she was behind me rolling the hair in back and I was surprised to find that I was starting to enjoy it, all these sensations. I mean, the combing, the winding, and tightness was sexually exciting. I don't know why but it was. In fact, I had to place my hands over my growing erection to keep from having to run to my room to satisfy myself. Maybe it was because I like pretty hair. Sometimes I think my favorite style is lots of tight curls or those long Shirley Temple curls; but other times, I'd like the sleek look, the one where the hair is slicked back and worn in a bun or twist. One time in like 8th grade on the way home I asked a girl class mate, Judy, I think her name was, if I could touch her hair but she just gave a dirty look so I laughed, saying I was only kidding. She had come to class with a head full of curls for the class picture and I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. Anyway, having my hair set wasn't as horrible as I would have thought it would be, and I spent the time thinking about the beautiful girl with the beautiful hair in the magazine. And then a new thought came to mind: I tried but couldn't think of anything quite so daring that I'd ever done; and this made it all that much more exciting. "How's your model?" Dad asked when he came in to see us. "Is he behaving?" "Yes," Sis replied. "He's very cooperative. "I'm being tortured," I protested to Dad, but he just smiled and said to endure it for the sake of the family. But this was too daring, having to be seen this way by anyone, especially my father, with a head full of pink rollers. "Tortured, you're the one who tortures us with you moping around the house or staying in your room all day reading. You hardly ever go out. " Dad said, inspecting Sis' work and patting the rollers in my hair. I was relieved that Dad didn't laugh at me. If he had, I'm pretty sure, I'd walked away right then and there. "See how good, I'm getting, Dad," Sis said proudly. "All the curlers are tight and in line like little solders." Dad smiled at her and said, "They're supposed to be taunt, not necessarily tight." "That's it. All done," Sis exclaimed and then sprayed the setting lotion all over my hair, especially at the roots. I shivered as the cold wetness ran off my scalp and trickled down my neck. "Now you can sit under Mom's hair dryer for a few hours or you can let it dry naturally?" I hardly had a minute to think about her question, when she ran to answer the doorbell. Geez, I thought, what if it's someone I know, so I ran to the bathroom. There in the mirror I saw rows of curlers, taunt and smooth, straight down the middle, and row after row on the sides and back. I had seen Mom and Sis this way many times and remembered their curlers being transformed into fluffy waves and curls, like caterpillars changed into butterflies. Mom and Sis were always fixing each others hair and Dad was forever saying how pretty they looked. Now I figured I would get some attention. For a minute I imagined how I'd look when they were combed out... "Robert, your mother wants to see your sister's handiwork," Dad called. "Ahhh , doesn't he look darling," Mom shrieked when she saw me. "How do you feel, son, about having your hair in rollers?" She said in a mocking way. "Now, dear," Dad said to Mom, "for once he's helping his sister and us. Let's not spoil it." With that Mom was silent. "Did Sis leave?" I asked. "Yes, she's out with Bill," Mom answered. "When she coming home to take these out?". "Who knows? But those rollers come out when your sister says they come out," Dad said sternly. "You don't want to ruin her creation, do you?" "They hurt," I complained. "Don't be silly! Mom said. Now you can appreciation the time and trouble women take to look attractive." As we sat down for dinner, I could hardly believe what was happening: I was eating dinner with a head full of pink curlers and Mom and Dad were ignoring me, like their son in hair rollers was an everyday thing. "Doesn't Robert look like Jean when she was his age, dear," Mother said to Dad. "You know, dear, I was thinking the same thing," he replied. On and on they talked about when Jean worn her first beauty contest, for Miss 10 Year Old, or something like that, and her first perm, when it came out real frizzy. On and on they went. Like when Jean was homecoming queen in high school and was a contestant in the State Pageant. You would think Jean was Miss America considering how often they talked about her. I couldn't help but chime in, "But she didn't win cause she's got no talent, like a reading from Shakespeare is talent." I'm sure that was the last thing my parents wanted to hear but at least it stopped them from talking about my sister, at least for a while. "Aren't you hungry, son?" Mom asked. "Na, it's...it's hard to eat thinking about how I look. "It doesn't bother us, does it dear?" Mom asked Dad. "No, not at all, dear," Dad said smiling to me. After a long sign, Dad declared, "Robert, you look like a little girl in hair rollers!" "What do you think, dear?" He asked Mom. Mom hesitated the answered, "I agree. He looks just like a young teen aged girl with his big brown eyes and fine delicate features and his perky little nose." Being only 5'7" and small boned, I wish I could be called a hunk of a football player, but at least they were giving me a compliment, even if it was more for a girl than a guy. "Help me with the dishes," Mom said to me after we finished eating. "If you're going to look like your sister, you might as well help me out the way she did when she was your age." "Do as your mother says," Dad added and got up and left. I helped Mom with the dishes and putting away the left overs. She talked about how much work it was to be a woman, how much time it took to fix her hair and do her makeup and that being a woman was more than looking pretty, that there was a lot of responsibility involved. Oh, brother, I thought, I hope Mom doesn't talk like those feminists about how oppressed women are. Like women oppress men more than the other way around, I thought to myself. Anyway, I thought, Mom didn't do much with her hair and didn't wear much makeup and wasn't a fancy dresser, so she never took very long to get ready to go out. "Mom, I know; I know you work hard. You don't need to convince me that being a woman isn't easy." "Geez," I thought, "what's gotten into Mom?" I was feeling kind of down when Dad came in to ask how his girls were doing. Without thinking I said "fine." After helping in the kitchen, I went to my room to watch TV but had a hard time concentrating on the movie. About all I could think about was the tightness of the rollers on my head and the feeling of the plastic rollers against my scalp. They were constant reminders of my daring new look. A dozen times I sneaked into one of the bathrooms to look in a mirror. I never looked so often in a mirror in my whole life, I don't think. I'd look at the front and with a hand mirror looked at the sides and back. I was glad Jean wasn't home because I could look and pat the rollers on my head the rest of the evening. I stayed up until past ten, until Mom and Dad came by to say that I might as well go to bed because Jean surely wouldn't do the comb out so late. "But the rollers, I can't sleep. "Don't whine like a sissy," my father said with a laugh. That's one word I used to hate being called. "Sissy" was about the worst name you could call a guy in my neighborhood. But for me a sissy was something I was beginning to think wasn't so horrible. That night I tossed and turned, not only because I was trying to find a find a comfortable position but also because I was thinking about how I'd look with a head full of curls, and I thought about Judy, the mean little girl with the beautiful hair. Finally I settled on the side of my face on a pillow and fell asleep. The next morning I was up early. "Mom, where's Jean?" "She's already gone to class, but don't worry, I'll take out the rollers." We had just sat down on the living room couch, when the door bell ring and Mom went to answer it. I recognized Mike's voice. He was my best friend. "Come on in boys," I heard Mom say. Then to my horror, in walked Mike and his older brother, Ed. "God, what happened to you?" Mike asked when he saw me. "My...my sister," I stammered, "used me for her beauty class, to practice on." For a minute both guys just stood looking at me with their mouths open. "Hey, sorry to bother you two, but my brother, you remember Ed? Captain of Central winningest football team," Mike say beaming with pride. "He just wanted to say hello to your mother." "Sit down, boys; we'll be through in a minute, but we can talk while I work," Mom said gesturing to the love seat and chair. "Please stay so I can catch up on what's happening with you boys." Carefully Mom gently removed the hairpins and rollers, unwinding each one to the end of the strand before pulling them out. And as she removed the rollers, she and Ed and Mike talked. I was so uncomfortable being watched by my best friend and his brother that I didn't pick up much of their conversation. And I was much more occupied with what Mom was doing. I felt my hair being unraveled and bouncing back, Mom's fingers moving silently over my head, and rollers dropping in my lap. In a few minutes she was finished and ran her fingers through my hair, shaking the stiff deep brown curls. With Mom holding a mirror up to my face, all I saw was curls, lots of uncombed curls. I was so excited that I forgot that two guys were staring at me in amazement. Suddenly I came back to reality. It was bad enough being seen with a head full of girlish curls by my best friend but I was also seen by Ed, who was 23 years old and a really cool looking, macho guy. It seems that Ed was back for his high school reunion and he was still thankful for the time my father got him a summer job. "What do you think, boys? Isn't his hair lovely? Isn't he the prettiest boy you've ever seen," Mom blurted out. "I'll let your sister do the brushout. Poor Robert, she said to Ed and Mike, "he had to sleep last night in his hair rollers." Ed and Mike looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, cocked their heads, and smiled. Finally they excused themselves, saying they had to run. I was so tongue tied that I don't think I even say "good-bye." I was really upset by my mother. "Mom, did you have to go on and on like that? If anyone calls for me, say I'm not home," I said angrily and went to my room. In no time at all I was in the bathroom looking at myself, at my curls: curls that dangled sensuously over my ears, fluttered off my cheeks, and twisted on my forehead to my eyebrows. Strands of hair wound like mattress coil springs, catching the light and hiding in the shadows of my face. Stiff curls that tempted me to touch them. I careful tugged at them, shook my head to see them dance against my face, and carefully touched them with my finger tips to feel their hardness. I look wicked, I thought, lusciously wicked. I fantasized all that day about how I would look with my hair combed out until being interrupted by a call from the living room. "Where's my model?" Sis called out. Geez, I thought, what am I in for now? "Mom, Mom, I passed my test but now I've another assignment," she shouted. "Now I have to practice my makeup. Where's my baby brother?" she called out as she bounded up the stairs and into my room where I was lying on my bed half way watching a video. "Where's Mom?" Sis asked. "Don't you ever knock?" Sis looked startled when she saw me."My don't you look sexy, my little boy-girl brother." For a minute she stared at me until she came back to reality."Come on, brother," she ordered. "I have to practice putting makeup a person." "I'm not a person, remember, I'm your brother." On and on she keep it up about me being a model. "Don't you have any girlfriends to practice on?" I asked. "You brat. You know none of the girls like me because I've stolen their boyfriends. "Too bad for you... Wait... fix me up with your friend's sister, Wendy, and I'll do it," I said. "Wendy... Wendy," she repeated. "Oh, I know, Wendy big boobs. Let me tell you, I'm in better shape than she'll ever be. I saw you looking at mine when I washed your hair. Anyway, Maria and I aren't on speaking terms at this time. Wait, if you let me makeup your face, I'll show you my boobs. Honest." "Sure, ok," I said. "Show me them." I was stunned, caught entirely off guard when even before I could entirely sit up, Sis had unbuttoned her white blouse and was seated on the edge of the bed. For a minute she hesitated. I guess my insult and her need for a model overcame whatever little modesty she had. Unhook me" she said turning around with her back towards me. Geez, did my hands tremble as I fumbled with the 3 little hooks. "Come on, come on," she urged, "this isn't a porno movie where they have two hours to kill." With the last clasp released, she turned around, facing me. Geez, I almost went in my pants, and the growing bulge was obvious enough to put a smile on Sis' face. "I see that my little brother likes what he sees. Now do I get my model?" "Well...Maybe... I...," I stammered. "What!!" she shouted. What the hell do you want?" "Let me touch em," I blurted out without thinking. I don't know what got into me. Maybe it was this wicked looking hair style. "Ok, Ok but quickly." Closing her eyes, she stiffened herself like a prisoner in the movies who is about to be shot by a firing squad. My fingers trembled as I first cautiously touched her nipples with both hands and then rolled them between my thumbs and forefingers. They stiffened and grew larger, and Sis breathed deeply, her breasts rhythmically rising and falling; carrying along with them my hands as I clung to her nipples. She began to breath through her mouth, with lips slightly parted-- long deep breaths, and then short fast ones. God, I thought, in a minute I'm going to shoot my load in my shorts. "That's it," she gasped but made no movement to pull away. "That's all. That's all. We ... better quit... before ... we get ... carried away." She struggled to get up and finally gaining her senses, stood up and walked away. In a minute she became her old self. "In 10 minutes, you're mine for the rest of the day, my brat model." Geez, I thought this hardon isn't going to go away for a while and was I dying to relieve myself but Jean's constantly calling forced me to join her in the family room where we were surrounded by trays of cosmetics, and brushes, and lots of other things. "You sit her and I'm sit right in front of you. With tweezers in hand, she said, "first I'm going to shape your eyebrows to make them more feminine." "Ouch," I cried, "that hurt." "It did not," she scolded me. "These are wayward hairs and you won't miss them." "Hell, I won't; if they belong to me, I'll miss them." On she went, plucking away. "I have to give your brows more of an arch. And now for a little artwork with an brown eyebrow pencil." "Now I'm applying a foundation. With your yellow undertones, this one is perfect," she said showing me the cosmetic. "What do you mean, yellow !" "Most people have yellow undertones, silly," Sis shot back. "Notice how I'm blending in the foundation," she said, and I felt the brush flickering over my face. "Now I'm applying a charcoal colored powder eyeliner and am smudging it in just outside the lash line. "Look at me," she said as she ran the mascara brush over my eyelashes, once, twice, three times. Then she used an eyelash curler to curl my eyelashes. Wow, this is really giving you a dramatic look," Sis squealed. "Really," I said "isn't a girl's hairdo dramatic enough look for a guy?" "I'm now applying a rosy brown shade of lipliner and topping it with Maybelline Moisture Whip Gloss in Red Raisin." With that Jean positioned herself in front of me and slide the tip of the lipstick over my lips. Pucker," she said. On and on she went, doing what she called "blending" and "shading," which she did with all kind of brushes. All this beauty treatment was beginning to get to me; that is, ...it was entertaining. Sure, Sis was kinda pushing me around; but I liked to look at beautiful women so I guess I should like to look at myself, I thought to myself. "Now for the comb out," Jean announced. "I'm starting at the hairline, brushing straight back in long strokes." Then she leaned over and whispering in my ear, "I'm using long, vigorous strokes, stroking and stroking... using full brush strokes the full length of the strand of hair... Now, I'm guiding the hair into the lines defined by the setting". Then she used what she called a "rat tail" comb to shape and lift, all the time using hairspray. "All done," she announced. "Now go look at yourself." Looking in the bath mirror, I couldn't believe what I saw. I looked bad, I mean, I looked really cute, as cute as that nasty Judy except her hair was longer than mine. I thought to myself, if someone asked to touch my hair, I'd say, "Get lost, creep." If I didn't know better, I wouldn't have known the person in the mirror. At my forehead a rolling wave of hair was high on one side and dipped to the other side. Along the sides my of my face fluffy brown curls of hair rested against my white cheeks and then cascaded down my neck and bounced off my shoulders; in the back the hair was a v-shaped waterfall of waves, ending in billows of curls. I looked like one of the girls in Mom's magazines; like a living doll, like a girl that guys like me worship from afar. Being a definite non-jock type, I was in love with every gorgeous girl in school and now I was kind of in love with myself. Now I was one of those unattainable females, the ones that cause guys to become mush mouths when they try talking to them. My sister knew I liked the way I looked even though I tried to hid it from her. She was all smiles of wickedness. "I guess I should wash my face, now that you're done," I half heatedly said to Sis. But Sis said to wait until Mom and Dad saw me. For the rest of the day I walked around the house, stopping to look in the mirror at least 50 times. Everytime I saw myself I tossed my head and blew kisses to myself. And I'd talk to myself. "Why Robert, you are such a handsome guy. Of course I would love to go out with you. Then I'd pucker up and blow myself a kiss. Mom couldn't hide her reaction. "My God, don't you look just lovely!" she said fussing over me. "Your sister did a wonderful job on you. Just wonderful." "Mom, it's me, Robert, your son, in case you don't remember," I said. "Now, I finally get to wash it all off !" Mom agreed but Sis interrupted her. "No, Mom. Dad told me before he left that he wanted to see my handiwork. He'd be really disappointed if Robert ruined everything." Dad was also surprised at my appearance. He said I looked as petty as any girl he knew, which I know was an exaggeration but I liked to hear it anyway. "Honey," Mom said to Dad. "Why don't you and Robert have your talk in the family room now while I fix dinner. Geez, I thought what am I in for it now. Dad sat in his chair and I sat on the couch next to it. "Now, son," he said turning to face me. Don't be worried, I'm not angry at look. I just want to ... to tell you... that I ... I mean your mother and I... like the way you look, that is, we think it's wonderful that you're helping your sister like you are. And dressing like a girl and wearing makeup, well, it's...it's, well, nice that you did this for your sister. But don't take it too serious, that is, remember who you are." With that Dad ended out talk and seemed satisfied that he said what had to be said, but I didn't get whatever he was trying to say. What could I say? Like my father was almost crying in front of me "I don't mind once in a while, helping her out, I guess." And then without thinking, I blurted out, "Anyway, I kinda like looking so pretty." Damn it! What DID I say! This caused Dad to smile and he seemed relieved. I tried to say what I meant but it still came out wrong. "It's not like you're making me do this; it's kinda fun to have my hair fixed an wear makeup like a girl," I said. Damn, I said it again. Dad and Sis and I, and Mom, too, I guess, had lots of fun at the dinner table. It just seems like I cheered every one up, looking the way I did. "Brother, tomorrow you and I are going to go shopping for some new clothes for you," My sister announced. "Great," I said. I saw a jacket at the mall that I really like." "No, brother, we're going shopping for some girl clothes." I was speechless. "What kind of clothes does he need, dear?" Mom asked my sister. But that wasn't what was on my mind. In amazement, I said "Are you crazy!" Sis then explained. "Dad, Mom, there's this Makeup and Hair Contest that a lot of the girls at the different beauty schools are competing in." "No way, Jose!" I shot out. "Yes, little brother, I want to use you for my model. The winner gets two thousand dollars, and if we win you get half. Just think, all you have to do is let me practice a few more times on you and take one brief walk down a runway next Sunday, and you could have a thousand dollars." "Walk? Stage?" I'd be terrified to appear on stage as a boy much less as a girl. "Don't worry, I have it all planned out," Sis said reassuringly. "No way are we ever going to win," I exclaimed. Sis then went on to explain that the contest was for hair and makeup and the model was not that important and that since I had great hair and a flawless complexion, I would be in the running. She said that I would need to pick out a dress for the contest and other girl clothes to let me get the feel for walking and acting in women's clothing. She said that for the next 5 days she wanted me to look and act as much as I could like a girl so I could get into the right "mind set," as she called it. Everyone looked at each other. Dad spoke first, "Jean, honey, isn't this a bit extreme? Your poor brother will be seen by people dressed as a female. Consider his reputation." Mom agreed with Dad. But my sister was very persuasive, talking about the prize money and that the event wasn't likely to be attended by anyone outside the hair and makeup business. "What about it, brother," Jean asked. I looked at Mom, at Dad, at Sis; looking for someone to make me decide one way or the other. "Let me think about it," I said, "until tomorrow; then I'll tell you." Everyone agreed to that. That night I washed off my makeup with some reluctance, thinking that this would probably be the last time I'd ever wear it. All that night I tossed and turned, thinking about what I would be like to be a girl for 5 days. It was a scary thought, being a girl for 5 days. What if I made a horrible girl? Or worse, What if I was a really cute girl? I thought about it for a long time until I finally made up my mind that being a girl for 5 days was just too scary and fell asleep exhausted from over working my brain. The next morning before I was even out of my room the phone rang and to my surprise it was Ed, my best friend's older brother. I couldn't believe my ears. Ed said that he liked the way I looked. He said, "I mean I know you're really smart and now you're really pretty. Since I saw your mom doing your hair, you've been on my mind; because you must really be brave to let her do this to you. And I thought we could do something together, something casual." "You mean you ...you... like the way I looked and you want us to do something together?" I asked him. For some reason, even good looking guys made me as nervous as cute girls but in a different way. Ya, I like your look, it's unique; you have a unique look. And yes, let's go some place together," Ed replied. "I can't Ed, cause I have to go shopping for clothes, girl's clothes, but later on, or tomorrow, we can do something together, if you want". "Hey, that's cool," he answered. Can I call you tonight to see if we can do something together tomorrow?" "Sure," I said. "By." Geez, I thought, what a deal! One of the most handsome and coolest guys I've even met wanted to be my friend. The girls must be crazy about him and he likes me. How could I resist being with him? I hadn't gone out but a few times on a real date and never did have much fun on them. But now I was going to hang out with a real hunk of a guy that girls would die to go out with. "Sis," I called outside her door. "Can we go shopping for my clothes now? I guess I'm in the contest." "Sure, brother. Come on in," she called back in a happy voice. Inside her room she said that she needed to make me more passable. "The jeans look fine but here, put this on," she said, handing me one of her blouses. "It's the smallest one I have. "And now this, " handing me her old high school cheerleader jacket that was long enough to hang down past my waist. She looked me over and announced, "As soon as we buy you a bra, you'll need to put it on to give you some shape." In no time at all Jean was combing my hair into a ponytail and applying a bit of lipstick and powder. Brother... no, I better call you Roberta, for your sake. Roberta, you look very nice. We better leave early, Roberta, in order to avoid as many people as we can. After all this is your first time shopping, Roberta." "Sis, if you call me that name one more time, I'm backing out of our deal." "Ok, Ok; let's go, Robert. We have lots to buy: a bra, panties, pantyhose, dresses, skirts, blouses, nightgowns, slips, and of course shoes and some cosmetics of your own panties, skit, blouses, bras, socks, shoes, and lots of other things." "What! What do we need all those things for?" I said in disbelief. "Or are you just crazy for shopping? No," she replied. "Like I said, you have to dress every minute of the day as a female until the contest so you can present yourself as one in the pageant." I began to realize that I was getting into something more than I bargained for. I looked at myself in her mirror and protested. "Jean, I don't have any shape. No boobs. I'll never pass as a girl." But Sis insisted that I would pass so I gave in. All the way driving to the store, Sis talked to me about how girls talk and walk and behave but I wasn't listening very closely. Thank goodness there weren't many girls in the Intimate Apparel department of Good's Young Miss Store. Sis looked over the bras--thinking and looking. I could tell that she enjoyed making me squirm. "Sis, can't we hurry this up?" I begged. "Find me a bra." I couldn't believe that I was anxious to put on a bra but I really felt self-conscious about being flat chested. "Let's try these on," she said taking my hand like I was a baby and leading me to the dressing room. In the dressing room, she helped me take off the jacket and unbuttoned the blouse. "Watch the door?" I said, nervous that someone would walk in on us. I slid my arms through the openings as she directed and Sis fastened the clasps in back and adjusted the straps, pulling here and adjusting there until she was satisfied. "Ok, we'll take this one. Now turn around and see yourself in the mirror in your first bra. Of course, when I saw myself the bra didn't fill out so I didn't have much of a shape, but Sis said she would take care of that. "Now try on this one." "Jean, one more?" I said in disbelief. "You think one bra is enough for a girl? Please, I know about bras! And I know girls." Jean left me for a few minutes while she said she explained to the sales lady that I would be wearing the bra. After taking off the tags, I put it back on. Wearing a bra, I felt a lot more at ease. At this place there weren't many sales people and none of them looked at me in a funny way. Most of the people just glanced at me like they would any other teenage girl. There was a group of guys who stared a while but Jean said they just thought I was cute. When she said that, I looked around to see them, hoping to give them a smile but they were gone. As I pushed the cart, my sister piled the stuff into it: panties, all kinds and colors; a nightgown, tops and matching shorts, skirts, blouses, and several really pretty dresses, which I tried on and really liked, a jacket, and lots of other things like a quick curling kit and my own rollers, hair bands, and my own comb and brush. I was getting tired but was also beginning to enjoying myself. As a guy, I never liked to shop so shopping fun was new to me. Of course all the time I was thinking about what I would wear to go out with Ed. "And I'll need some causal stuff." I said to Sis. "Girls need lots of things to look beautiful," Sis responded. So we bought tons of things. "Ah," Sis exclaimed "almost forgot, jeans." So into the girl's jeans section we went. Now there were lots of sizes and names to chose from. While I held open my jacket, Sis held pair after pair next to me. We must have carried into the dressing room a dozen pairs. Inside the dressing room I had to try on each pair. "Sis, can you wait outside?" "Don't be silly, I've got to see if they fit you." "Go ahead, go change. Turn your back to me" she said . "But it shouldn't bother you, now that you're my little sister. I liked what she said so I just changed in front of her. I hung up my jacket, sat on the bench, and slid out of my jeans and into the new pair. I struggled so hard getting into the jeans that Sis started giggling and couldn't quit. I know I must have looked funny with my boy shorts and sagging bra, fighting to get into tight straight legged girl jeans. "Quiet, Sis. This isn't easy, you know," I said. The problem is that the more I tried on each pair of jeans, the more excited I got until finally my penis was half in and half out of my jockey shorts. "I can't get into these. "I can see that," Jean snickered. "We certainly can't have you walk around with that thing in your pants." "But, I can't help it; all this dressing up and looking at girl's clothes has gotten to me." "Can't you make it go down?" "Are you kidding?" I answered. "Anyway, I'm getting too uncomfortable to go on shopping," I pleaded. "Let's go home." "Hurry up, do something. We've got more shopping to do," my sister demanded. "Like what. You think my dick takes orders from me!" "There's only one thing I can think of... relieve yourself." With that she fumbled in her purse and removed two hankies. "Here, use this. Just shoot your load in the hanky and then we can continue our shopping," Jean said nonchalantly. "Sis, I can't," I begged. "I just can't. I'm not used to doing it this way." "Ok, I'll help you," and with that she knelt in front of me and stroked my penis with her right hand while cupping the hanky with the other. "Come on little brother, you can come; come on, shoot your load." Her fingers smeared the wetness at the tips and spread it down the shaft, greasing it all over. "Come on brother, let me see you shoot you load." "I'm coming, I'm coming," I moaned and with that she steadied her hand and directed the hanky in front of my dick. My body shook as I relieved my self; once, twice, I shot streams of white liquid into the eagerly awaiting handkerchief. "Ahhhhh," I sighed as a shiver went down my spine and I let out a long breath of air. In a minute, Sis was her old self, saying, "Hurry, up brat, we've got more things to buy. See you played with me and I played with you." Carefully, like she was handling a bomb, she tied together the ends of the hanky, leaving it to look like a sagging bundle of candy. "Here, you get rid of this." With that relief, I felt much better and Sis finally she picked out several pairs. After a few more items, Sis announced, "Shoes." "Geez, Sis, can't that wait until another day?" I said. "I bet not even Ed's coach made him practice as hard as we've shopped today." "I see you have Ed on your mind," she giggled. "Don't be silly," I replied. The shoe department was the scariest place of all. There were a lot of women and girls my age looking for shoes. First we walked around the department, looking for shoes that Sis liked. She said we needed a pair of pumps, sandals, and three inch heels. When she saw me stare at the heels, she said that she probably want me to wear the pumps for the pageant but wanted to buy both just in case she changed her mind. I didn't bother to ask why because I didn't want to slow her down or get into an explanation that other people might hear. I slipped on some pairs off the rack, just to learn the right size but we needed a sales person to get the right width. Having someone touch my foot was kinda weird. Like when I tried on the heels, I had bare feet and the sales lady helped fit my feet into the shoes. "How does it feel?" the lady asked. "Why not walk around in it for a minute," she suggested. But I had all I could do to stand up in them and had to lean the back of my legs against the chair to just stand up. "Fine," I said. Sis looked them over and felt the shoes and my feet and announced that we would take them. "Oh, yes, and we need a pair of tennis shoes." Finally we were finished shopping and was I worn out!. Our cart was full when we checked out and the bill was over six hundred dollars. When I asked who was paying for this she just answered, "a fairy godmother." I didn't continue the conversation because I just want to get home. With all of us seated in the living room, Sis made a big deal over every little thing we bought, holding up each piece for Mom and Dad to see. Then if you can believe it, she passed each piece for them to examine. "What's the big deal," I finally had to say, "it's only something to wear." But I really was enjoying all the attention I was getting. No one ever showed any excitement over any boy clothes that I ever bought. "Are you kidding," Jean shrieked. "Just something to wear!" "Now, Jean," Mom said calmly, "he's only a boy, remember." "Try them on," Dad suggested, "to be sure they fit, so you can take them back tomorrow, if they don't." "Good idea," Sis added and with a sparkle in her eye added, "Now he can practice modeling for you two before he makes his professional debut." I protested, saying I was tired of all this clothes business but in reality I was just dying to try them on. Sis and I left to change in her room. First she removed the old makeup and applied evening makeup as she called it. I was so excited thinking that this was my first real transformation-- hair, makeup, and clothes, all at the same time. I shivered with such anticipation that Sis asked me if I was cold. She drew in my brown eyebrows, brushed my eyelids with a chocolate color eyeshadow, flicked my upper and lower eyelids once with black mascara, lined my lips with a luscious dark brown color, and applied a nutmeg colored lipstick. Then with Sis' help, I put on my new white bra, the one with lace around all the edges and a flower pattern on the cups. It was very pretty. She handed my a pair of white panties, which I changed into in front of her without hesitation. With each outfit she fixed my hair differently. For the skirts and blouses Sis parted my hair in the middle, gathered the hair towards the back of the head, and twisted it into two braids that hung below my shoulders. I told Jean that I was too old for braids but she said she was making me look very young, teenage, and adult. For the blue jeans and oversize denim shirt, she combed my hair over to one side of my face and pulled it into a fluffy ponytail, which I swished back and forth across my face as I pranced barefooted in front of my admiring parents. For the yellow sun dress, Sis combed back the top and sides of my hair into a long wavy ponytail, leaving the rest of the hair to fall down my back. I was a little serious looking as I paraded in front of Mom and Dad, but broke into a smile when I heard them say, "isn't that just darling", "isn't that so sweet," "doesn't he make a cute girl," and "what a adorable outfit." There were even some chuckles from everyone that I wasn't sure about. Maybe because I never walked in a bra before and sort of pushed out my chest too much. I felt like those fashion models when they hurry down the walk way and then go back for a frantic change of clothes. Finally for the contest dress, she twisted my hair in back and pulled it to the top of my head and using a lot of pins teased the hair into a mass of curls. She worked so fast that she was done in minutes between each change of clothing. We were all having so much fun that I hated it to end. Mom was almost in tears and Dad kept saying over and over, "I can't believe how cute he looks." Finally when we were finished, Mom gave me a kiss on the cheek and would you believe it, Dad did the same but gave me a kiss and a big tight hug. I guess he just forgot for a minute that I was his son and not his daughter. It wasn't until past eleven at night that the show broke up and I walked upstairs to my bedroom. Sis caught me at the landing. "Here, use this to take off your makeup," handing me a squeeze bottle. "And here, here are you girl pj's and night gown when you get up in the morning; be sure to wear it. Remember, think girl thoughts. For 5 days you're a girl, all girl," she said repeated several times. "Thanks," I said, wrapping my arms around the boxes. "Did, you like what we did today," she whispered "you know in the dressing room?" I looked around. "Ya, sure... Did you?" "Yes, of course, I did," Sis whispered so softly that I wasn't sure I had heard her or just read her lips. "I could do it again for you, if you wanted me too. I don't mind. "Na, I'm too tired," I said and walked into my room. That night I squiggled and squirmed, not only because I was wearing my first pair of panties and first girl pajamas but because I thought a lot about what was happening to me and what might happen. Like, Ed said he would call, but would he? Was I beginning to like looking like a girl more than I should? Everyone was having so much fun with me dressed like a girl, would they would be disappointed with me as a boy, after the pageant. And what was this attraction Sis had for me all of a sudden? If I wasn't so tired I never would have gotten to sleep but I was soon in dreamland. That Wednesday morning, I slipped into new nightgown for the first time. I loved the feel of the cotton over my arms and body; and it was so pretty with lace around the collar and wrists, and rows of little blue flowers and an alternating stripped pattern that ran the length of the gown. Right away I felt more like a girl than a boy. Ed called as he said he would. He's very responsible, I thought to myself. I was so tongue-tied that I could hardly talk at first except to say "yes" and "really." I must have sounded retarded or something; I was so nervous. After some small talk, he finally got to what was on his mind. "Let's do something together?" He said. "Sure, what?" I asked. "Let's go to Great America in Jamestown. I haven't been there. They opened up after I moved away and I'm looking for someone to go with. Ever been there?" he asked. "No, but I'd love to go." This was a lie because I'd been there several times. But I lie every day of my life so it was easy lying to him. "What are you going to wear?" he asked. "I don't know yet. What would you like me to wear?" "Something cute, and wear makeup, of course." "Want me to wear my hair in any way special?" I asked him. Damn, I thought, why did I say that! "Anyway you want. Pick you up in half an hour." "Are you kidding!" I shrieked, my high pitched voice getting higher than it is. "I'll need two hours to get ready. Remember I have my hair, makeup, and girl's clothes to put on." "Oh, ya, that's right. Ok, let's make it in an hour and a half. See you." "Ok, Edward. I'll see you about 10:30 this morning. "Ahh..." I sighed a deep breath of relief. "Jean... Mom," I called several times. "Help me get ready to go out." My sister came over and asked what was up and I told her that Ed and I were going to Great America together, and I needed her to fix my hair and makeup and help me get dressed. "After all, this IS the first time I'm going out as a girl." "Mom, Mom," Sis yelled, "Robert's going out with Ed, you know Mike's OLDER brother. Sorry brother, I was just leaving. Mom'll have to help you get ready, like she did when I went out on dates. Be sure to remember every thing you two did so you can tell me later. And I mean EVERYTHING." "This ISN'T a date," I insisted. "Ed just never was at Great American and he wants company." "Mom, I need your help getting ready. Ed and I are going to Great America today," I called. Mom walked over to me not sure of what she heard. "Oh my, oh my, isn't that a pretty nightgown," she said as she put her hands on my shoulders and looked me over. "Mom, did you hear me? Ed and I are going to Great America today." A scowl came over Mom's face and her voice lost its cheerfulness. "Robert, do you think you might be carrying this too far, going out in public? I'm not sure I approve. No, I don't think I approve." "But Mom, you and dad had a great time with me dressing up, remember," I moaned to her. "Yes but that was in the privacy of our home, not in public; and well, your dad more than me," she answered back. In desperation, I said, "Ask Dad, go ahead and ask him." Mom went in the kitchen and called Dad at work. I couldn't hear what they were saying but I knew they were having a discussion, maybe an argument. Finally Mom hung up and walked over me. "Your father says it's all right for you to go out; but to be sure you talk, and act, and dress just as a girl would. He says that if he ever hears about you being spotted as a boy, you'll have the devil to pay, and you know what that means," she said in a stern tone of voice. With that decided on, Mom was really motivated to get me ready so I could pass as a girl. We went into the family room where the rest of my new clothes were folded in their boxes. Mom said she would put my clothes in my room for me after I left. Then she pulled my hair tightly back and twisted and twisted it into a bun, which she secured with lots of bobby pins. This way, she said it wouldn't get caught in anything. "And don't take it out," she warned. Mom said it looked nice on me because I had a small face and sharp features. Then she started on the makeup. Suddenly she stopped work and declared, "Better use your father's shaver, to get off the few soft blond hairs on your face." When I came back she inspected my face and said it was fine. "Now all you need is, a little foundation, a little eyebrow pencil, and a little pale lipstick." These she applied in no time at all. "What about the eyeliner and eyeshadow and all the other stuff Sis put on me?" I asked. "You don't need those for the morning and especially for an amusement park," she answered. "Now for your clothes. These look appropriate," Mom said as she picked out clothes from the boxes on the floor. She handed me a blue pleaded skirt that came just above my knees and a pair of panties. "And wear...wear... this," she said handing me a box containing an athletic supporter. "Put the panties over it and call me when you're dressed." Then Mom went into the kitchen. When I finished dressing, Mom looked me over and pulled at the sides of the skirt until satisfied with how it hung on me. "Keep your skirt here," she said. "Hips, that's one thing men don't have is hips but you do have a nice waist." Next she held out a bra-- a sports bra-- she called it. "Arms out," she said as I slid my arms into the openings. She then adjusted the straps, pulling here and there until it fit well, and clasped it in back. Then she startled me by pulling down the cups and stuffing pads in each one. "How does it feel, dear?" "Fine," I replied but it really felt tight and strange against my skin. But in one way, I liked the feeling-- the tight bra across my chest and my hair pulled back tight. Then Mom handed me a simple white blouse with a rounded collar. I thought my skirt and blouse looked kinda plain but I figured Mom knew what she was doing. After putting on a pair of my girl socks and gym shoes, Mom looked me over closely. "Hair...fine; makeup... fine; clothes... fine," she said, checking me over one more time. "Oh My God! Look at those nails," she exclaimed. Mom hurried to get a nail file and quickly shaped my nails. "When we get home young man, we've got to take care of these." "Geez, Mom. Don't get so excited. And ya, don't girls get fingernail polish?" I asked half jokingly. Mom quickly answered me, "Girls do but you don't." I don't Mom wanted to say that but it just came out. "That's another thing, Robert, or I should say Roberta, no more 'ya,' 'geez,' 'dunno,' or 'cause.' From now on you are to pronounce your words and speak slowly," Mom said carefully enunciating her words. "It's one thing for boys to talk that way, but it's not proper for girls; do you hear me, young lady?" "Yes, Mother," I replied. "And remember to say 'thank you' and 'you're welcome.' Your manners were never great as a boy, so they might as well be good as a girls." Over enunciating my words, I replied, "Yes, Mother, I understand." For some reason Mother was becoming upset and I didn't know why. She started off calm enough but was now loosing it. "And one more thing, try to show some interest in what your date has to say. Ask him questions. Let him talk about himself. Don't hog the conversation. Pretend he's smarter and wittier and more handsome than he really is, although...well, he is very handsome." "Yes, Mother, I will." Mom went on becoming more dramatic as she spoke. "And, Roberta, Robert... this is your first date... I mean as a girl, so you know, don't get... to... to involved with Edward. At your age, just have fun and well... be a good girl, that's all," Mom said stumbling over her words. "And here is a little shoulder purse with some money in it. Offer to pay for your ride, insist if you have to, and don't lose it. And remember you ARE a boy, I mean, remember to think that you're a girl but don't lose touch with reality that you are a male." "Yes, Mother," I replied. All Mom's talk made me even more apprehensive than I was, even though I'm not sure what she was trying to say. It's no big deal going to the amusement park, I thought. Like I did that with Mike last year, and it wasn't a date. What made me nervous was going out dressed as a girl and having to talk with a man a lot older than me. Like what would we have in common to talk about? All of a sudden I became so nervous that my legs quivered so much that I had to sit down on the living room couch. Mom all the while peeked out the window blinds, looking for Ed to arrive. When I saw Ed drive up, I opened the door, shouted "bye," and ran out. I didn't want this to look like a date, and if I walked, I worried that I just may faint or something. "Have fun," Mom called with a sniffle in her voice. Ed's car was a shiny black B&W. It was a lot nicer than our Chevy. For twenty minutes we hardly said anything to each other. Then it hit me; I'm a boring person. Who in their right mind, especially a hunk like Ed, would want to be with me? And I was sure I was about the plainest girl he ever was with these stupid clothes and this stupid hairdo. I'm glad Ed began to talk about his school, Harvard, and what he wanted to be after he graduated, and his interests. I guess he felt he had to break the monotony. Then he asked me lots of questions about how my sister got me into a girl's hairdo, makeup, and girl's clothes. I told him she needed a model and that there was a prize of two thousand dollars and if we won, I would get half. He asked me what I would buy with a thousand dollars. That was an easy question; I made plans to spend the money as soon as I decided to be in the contest. "A motorcycle," I told him. And I told him Sis said I needed to practice behaving like a girl and looking like one so I would be comfortable the day of the pageant. He had lots of questions about me dressing up and I was getting a little bored answering them. I guess he ran out of question because for the next 15 or so minutes he was quiet. Then I knew for sure that I was the boringest person Ed ever knew. When we were almost there, he startled me by asking, "Are you wearing panties?" I hesitated. "Yes." "Let me see em," he asked. A few minutes pasted. I lifted up my skirt to reveal my white panties, the ones with the lace around the waist and leg openings. "Pretty, real pretty," he said sneaking a peak over his shoulder at them. "Thank you." "And now, can I see your bra?" With that I looked around for other cars and seeing none, turned towards him, unbuttoned my blouse and spread it apart, revealing my chest. "It's a sports bra, a comfortable one," I said with some embarrassment at its simplicity. "Nice," he said as he glanced at it. "Do you want to see my breast?" I asked and in a second pulled out a breast pad. "Here it is." Ed really laughed hard at that. Then he told me about a date he had, when he got his hands in her bra and the same thing fell out. It turned out that she was as flat chested as I was. I told him he shouldn't have had his hands there in the first place. "You never know what you get when you open a box of chocolate," he said just like Forest Gump, and we laughed and laughed. Somehow that finally got us off on the right foot. I was really glad Ed had a sense of humor. Ed insisted on paying for every thing even though I told him that mother wanted me to pay my share. I tried really hard to remember all the girl things Mom told me, but after a while, I just had fun. It's hard not to grow close to someone, a girl or guy, when you're screaming together on rollercoaster ride that's scaring you half to death. I even went on the Super Rollercoaster; when I first saw it with Mike, I said "no way." The Super was awesome. It went really high and stopped. The grinding of metal on metal made everyone realize that it was a mighty machine. It groaned like a hungry beast about to devour us, the passengers. Then it dropped so fast that I flew up out of the seat. I'm sure I would have sailed out of the car if a bar didn't hold us in. Then it flew over a bunch of little hills, turning really fast over on its side. Ed was squished next to me and then I was squished next to him. He was heavy next to me, even though he tried to keep his weight off me. A second time the Super went to the top. I closed my eyes this time and took a deep breath, and let it out as a scream as we fell from the sky. Not that I was scared, but it's more fun when you scream. Everyone was screaming, even Ed went "wooo..." all the way down; I guess he's had lots of experiences and isn't easily scared. When it came time for me to get out, my legs were mushy so Ed gave me his hand and helped me to the platform. I was a wreak with strands of hair streaked across my face, and with my blouse and skirt twisted up. If I were dressed like a boy, I'd just unbuckle, unzip, and tuck in my shirt. But as a girl I tried to be as inconspicuously as possible, slipping in my blouse and straightening my skirt. It was then when I realized I popped the top two buttons of my blouse; but without them, I felt more comfortable so I unbuttoned one more. "Ed, can we sit down so I can fix my hair," I said. He said "sure" and we sat down on one of the benches. I plucked out bobby pins until my hand was full. "Hold these," I said to him without thinking. He held up his palm and I dropped them into it. He kinda twitched, like they were hot, but I didn't say anything. As I picked the pins out of my hair, I dropped them in his hand. Then I wound my hair into a knot and repined it. Even as Robert, I didn't like hair on my neck. "No more fast rides, pleaseeeee..." I said in a little girl voice and with a little girl pout on my face. Ed just smiled. Ed and I seemed to have a lot in common after all. We both screamed, and laughed, and made all those silly sounds that people make at an amusement park. So even if he was older, we got along great. I had more fun at the Park than I ever can remember. We went on lots of rides. I wanted to go on the Ferris wheel but he said it was for "sis..." but stopped in mid-sentence. And we ate and ate and drank and drank. I'm sure glad I was prepared because my skirt was always flying up. I must have looked clumsy trying to keep it down and in place, but Ed got a kick out of seeing me struggle with it. When we first got to the Park, we just walked side by side, but after the Super I took his hand, without thinking. He let my hand slip until just our finger tips touched. For most of the rest of the day we walked hand in hand or really finger tip to finger tip. In the past I always felt icky touching any part of another guy's body, but dressed like a girl, I didn't feel uncomfortable at all holding Ed's hand; in fact, I liked it. Ed had strong hands. I could feel his strength in his fingers as he helped my to the platform. And he had strong legs. I even had to ask him to slow down because I couldn't keep up with him. "Being here with you is like reliving my adolescence," Ed said to me. "I feel like a kid again." "I like you as a kid," I said all smiles as I looked into his big blue eyes. Once he put his arm on my shoulder and I put mine around his waist, but it was uncomfortable, so he pulled away. I'm glad I wore my hair up because the day got hot and Ed liked it; and he liked to put his hand on the back of my neck and squeeze it, sometimes too hard, and he liked to smooth the back of my hair. He said my hair up in a bun made me looked older, which made me feel good. "Ed, I have to go to the bathroom," I said with a sense of urgency. I had waited until I thought my teeth were ready to float out of my mouth. "Me, too," he said. We'd been drinking coke and lemonade all day, and now I was just dying to pee. We made our way to the rest rooms and I just walked right into the girls because I really had to go. Once in a stall, I didn't know for sure how girls went. I never thought of this predicament. Should I take off my skirt or just lift it up? Finally I decided to take mine off and put it on a hook. I did know enough to sit down. When I rejoined Ed, I told him about my first trip to the ladies room and we laughed and laughed about it. Ed said I should ask my sister when I got home. I said I would and that I had lots of questions to ask her. When it got dark, I told Ed that I was really tired, and he reluctantly agreed to leave. The truth is, I was tired but I felt the night made things, too difficult, that is too... too romantic. The last thing we did was have our pictures taken where he was behind a cardboard cutout of a cowboy and I was behind one of a cowgirl. He gave me that picture in a cardboard frame, and I looked at it off and on until it got