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Opening Doors by Dawna Tompson In retrospect, I should have seen it coming sooner than I did. I should have caught on sooner. I can explain, but it would be best to back up and start at the beginning? I was frustrated and maybe a little bored by my job. I wanted something newer and more challenging. I had been working at the same job for almost twenty years and I wanted a change. Maybe it was the divorce. I needed a change of pace. No, that's not the truth. It wasn't maybe. It was the divorce. And the pressure cooker of a job I had for the last 19 and a half years. I went through hell the past eight months and I needed to restart my life. My ex-wife had cleaned me out. The house, the bank account, and even most of my retirement. In the middle of the divorce I ended up in a major power struggle at work. Technically I quit my job, but that's just because I managed to scream "I quit" a second before my boss said, "You're fired." That meant I forfeited all of my severance pay too. So I went job hunting. At least I did when I wasn't drinking. For the first six months that meant that I didn't really look for a job at all. I still had my old car and a few dollars from one small savings account that my ex had forgotten to clean out before filing for the divorce. As it was, the judge had only allowed me half of it. That lasted until February. I suppose it would have lasted longer if I hadn't spent so much of it on scotch. So I started to get serious in late February. I was getting pretty desperate. Eventually, I found an ad for a procurement specialist, something I thought I could do. Besides, I couldn't find a job in my field. Maybe I had been blackballed. I answered the ad and obtained an interview. It was at a branch office of a major company located downtown, in one of those large glass office towers. I reported to the personnel section. They sent me up twenty- five floors to interview with the head of the service contract section. I was more than a little apprehensive as I went up in the elevator for the interview. I was looking for a new job in a cosmopolitan city, far from my old environs. I was alone and worried. I was also broke. I wound my way through a maze of fabric cubicles and carpeted hallways. The office I was looking for was one of the few with walls. The sign on the door stated, "Mr. Richard Humphrey, Service Contracts Head." The door was open. Humphrey was on the phone. He motioned me in. I walked in, sat down and began listening to half of a conversation. "He must be negotiating a contract." I thought, for I could hear him saying things like "You've got to give me a couple of points." And "I'll give you 100 to cover the losses, but I've got to have some leeway here." This was a different world than the engineering firm I used to work at. He was probably 15 years my junior, dressed sharply, and built like the former football player I suspected that he had been. He was sitting in his chair with his legs up on the desk. He made me acutely aware of my 42 years, my graying beard, protruding stomach, and thinning hair. He also looked very much at ease, where I was not. "Okay, that's North Carolina and three, then." I suddenly realized what was going on. This was March. The NCAA playoffs were starting this week. He was placing bets on the college games from his office. He was talking to his bookie, not a corporate chief. He seemed unconcerned that I might have figured out what was going on. This was a different world. Mr. Humphrey did nothing to put me at ease. In fact, he seemed unaware that he was supposed to be interviewing me. Maybe he thought that Personnel had already selected me. He kept talking about himself and how he was moving up the corporate ladder through hard work and how people didn't appreciate what he was doing for the company. I listened politely. I didn't care. I needed this job. He had a condescending way about him. He thought he was superior. I put it down to having too much authority at too young an age. He seemed not to care about my previous work experience. Of course that didn't concern me. After all I was trading a job as a senior engineer for a starting job in procurement. But he reminded me of my divorce lawyer. Jeez, what an incompetent crud he had been. After twenty minutes I felt the interview was coming to an end. Good thing, because he was really annoying me. Finally he made a call, "Alice come in here and take our new hire?What's your name again?" "Don", I replied. "?..Dawn to pick up a time card and the personnel action forms or whatever." I breathed a sigh of relief. The rent was already overdue and this had been my only serious job nibble in months. It looks like I'm going to be a contract specialist. "I can do that, at least for a while." I thought. Alice arrived in a few seconds. She was pretty with dark hair, cut to just above her shoulders, trim, and cordial. She was dressed in a business suit and greeted me warmly. She certainly gave me a much better impression than Humphrey did. "Who have you met so far?" She inquired as we left Humphrey's office. "Only Mr. Humphrey", I replied. You know that his complete title is "Mr. Richard Humphrey, Service Contract Section Head?" She said, somewhat stiffly. "But", she changed to a warmer tone. "We usually just shorten it to dick head." I laughed heartily. I liked her already. Next she introduced me to my co-workers. I felt even more out of place than I expected. Not only was I older than all of them, but they were all women! Five women ranging in age from maybe twenty to about thirty-five. Yet they all treated me nice and warmly. Alice had picked up Humphrey's pronunciation of my name as "Dawn", so all of the girls picked it up as well. But I figured I wouldn't correct them just yet. I wanted to have a smooth start at my new job. By late in the afternoon I was pretty well settled. Alice, the oldest of my co- worker's, and Humphrey's stand-in, had me settled in a cubicle with all the essentials, a desk, a phone, file cabinets, etc. Susan brought a few other things to "make me feel at home". She added a plant and a coffee mug. I was beginning to feel a little more comfortable, although I was certain that getting used to working with a group of beautiful women would be a big change from my old engineering job, where the only woman around was Betty, sixty years old, overweight, and permanently bitchy. Later that afternoon I finally found myself alone in my new cubicle. I busied myself with the obligatory company policy manuals. I had read similar ones at my old company. I drifted a little and started staring out the window at a large office tower down the street. It looked as if they were taking it apart, removing the windows and knocking holes in the brickwork. "Opposite of my life." I thought to myself. For I was hoping that things were now coming together for me. Maybe I had just started to end the worst period of my life. I thought about the girls Alice had introduced me to. I had only just met them, but I already had a pretty good idea of their personalities. Alice was the oldest and clearly the mother hen. It was obvious that she ran this office for Humphrey. She was probably thirty-five, but short and trim. She was married and had a teenage boy just learning to drive. Susan was the next oldest. Very pretty and very blonde. She was in her late twenties and also married. She had a toddler in day care. Susan was the "nurturer" of the group. Always making sure everyone felt good. I looked at the coffee cup she had given me. It was captioned "Hang in There", with a picture of a cat hanging by his paws. She wanted everyone to feel good. Then there was Barbara. She was black and gorgeous. I wondered why she was working here instead of a modeling agency. She had piles of curls on her head, a knockout body, and beautiful white teeth that flashed when she smiled. The whiteness of her teeth were amplified by the contrast with her light brown smooth skin. She spoke with a slight Caribbean accent. She was also the quietest one of the girls. It seemed as if she always checked first to see if what she was about to say was not only correct but also agreeable to all. Nancy was the lusty one. She was in her early twenties and single. She was also boy crazy. Nearly everything that anyone said she re-interpreted as a risque or sexual comment. Alice had sent Barbara across the hall to find Nancy so she could introduce me to her. Apparently she had been down there flirting with some guys. She was also the plainest of the girls. Maybe that was a little unfair. Anywhere else she would have turned heads, for she was a very pretty girl. It was just that the others were so stunningly attractive that she seemed plain by comparison. The last was Carmen. She was Hispanic or Puerto Rican. She had long dark hair to almost her waist. She was the most serious of the girls. She was every bit as pretty as Barbara. She wore a low cut silk blouse, a tight black skirt, gold bracelets, and large looped earrings. To me, she was the most sexual, although she carried it in a way that seemed almost na?ve. It was as if she didn't realize how dressing the way she did might affect a man. Yes, this was going to be different. Far different that working with a bunch of middle aged white guys at an engineering plant. Maybe it was time for a new career and a new life. Working with different people. Besides, my old life wasn't all that good anyway. At least not recently. Things went well at the job. I was too busy learning all of the details to absorb much else of what was going on around me. At least at work I could set aside my personal problems. At times I could almost forget about the pain of the divorce and the loss of my old job. I had enjoyed my job. It was a demanding and pressure filled job. But I had done it for over nineteen years. It wasn't just the work but the camaraderie of the men I worked and played with. I missed that. We had formed an after-work-softball team. We worked hard, we played hard, and then drank beer after the games. These days I had only one friend, Johnny Walker. Within a few days I fell into a routine. Get up, drive to the train station, ride downtown, go to work, come home, and drink scotch until I fell asleep. Then start all over again the next day. The only difference was that now I went to work during the day at least. Before, I just drank scotch and passed out. But it kept the pain manageable. Walking into work one Monday morning a week later I was surprised when an older man opened the glass doors of the office building for me, smiled and wished me a good day. I guess that big city people are not so rude after all. At lunchtime, Alice asked me to join the girls at a pub down the street. Actually, it had been a standing invitation, but I hadn't felt part of the group enough to join. Besides, what would I have to talk about with a bunch of girls half my age? But today seemed different. Maybe that man had put me in a good mood, or more likely, I was just feeling a bit lonely. Maybe I could be the fatherly figure in this group. Or maybe it would turn out that one of them had a good looking single aunt my age. I parked my fantasies at the door and as we walked toward the pub. Walking down 7th Ave. at lunchtime with five beautiful women made for an interesting experience. I was curious to watch the effect it had on the pedestrians, so I walked behind and watched. Old retired men, young businessmen, and blue-collar workers all seemed to perk up, suck in their guts, smile, and crane their necks as we walked down the street. I guess I had never noticed how unbecoming the rude stares from some of the men could be. I ashamedly admitted to myself that I had done the same thing on more than one occasion. I made a small mental note to be a little more discrete when I was admiring women from afar. Despite my misgivings I had a wonderful lunch. The girls seemed to accept me and talk as if we had known each other for a long time. They seemed not the least bit bashful around me while they spoke of relationships, boyfriends, and even sex! Now that was something I would have never thought I would be privy too. I admit I was more than mildly interested as Nancy described how her new boyfriend looked as he undressed and the things he did to turn her on. The lunches I was used to at my old job always seemed to revolve around bits and bytes and computer glitches, and maybe a few obscene but well guarded comments about the waitress's boobs. I even managed to drink just iced tea, and I actually enjoyed it. Walking back I felt even better than I had this morning. It was a good idea to switch into a new field at my age. I was meeting new people and that opened my eyes to a new and different world. We arrived a half an hour late to be met at the door to our office by a steaming Mr. Humphrey. "You girls are to have only one hour for lunch. By my watch you were gone almost an hour and a half." He stormed out and we all started to giggle at him. Alice said, "Well, actually it was more than an hour and a half, but he didn't even know what time we left." We laughed some more and I started to feel more a part of this group. We had been naughty and caught by the boss. I felt like I was with a little band of conspirators. Later that afternoon I went over our lunch in my mind again. Something seemed wrong with the waitress. Maybe I was just sore that she hadn't flirted with me. She seemed to flirt with all of the other businessmen in the pub. She was only slightly younger than me, good looking, and had no rings on her fingers. Did I look that bad to her? Had I lost that much sex appeal? Maybe it was because I was with a group of women. Anyway who cares. But come to think of it, she didn't even give the bill to me. I thought that she would have presented it to the only man in the group. Instead she gave it to Alice and she figured out what each of us owed. A couple of weeks later something else happened. I needed to get a copy made and our machine was broke. I walked across the hall and into another office filled with cubes. Two men were standing outside and I had to make my way past them. They both smiled and one said, "Are you trying to pretend your machine is broke just so you can come see us?" Now I've seen men flirt before and I was certain that this was a flirt. I'm 42 years old and have never been approached by a gay man before. I was a little uncertain what I should do. What came out of my mouth surprised me. "Oh yes, I couldn't wait to see you." As I stood at the machine I was embarrassed. Instead of telling the guy off, what came out of my mouth sounded as stupid and flirtatious as what he had said. What ever made me think to say something so stupid? I sure hope he didn't get the wrong idea. I was disgusted with him and myself as I walk back to my office. What made it worse was knowing that those two gay guys were watching my back all of the way down that long hallway and ogling me. "Is this what women have to put up with from straight guys?" I wondered. This had ruined my day. I was still upset when I got to my cubicle. Barbara was there, looking for a contract in my file cabinet. I was too embarrassed to say anything, but she seemed to sense my feelings. How are women so sensitive in that way? Barbara apparently had a knack for it. "What's wrong Dawn?" She asked. "Do you know those two guys across the hall?" I blurted. "Oh Dave and Fred in Admin Services? They are a couple of jerks, pay no attention to them. Lucky for us we only have to see them when our copier is down. Why, did they say something?" "No, it was nothing," I said, trying to cover my embarrassment. I had been working here for over almost four weeks now and I was still having trouble. It wasn't the work, which was largely clerical and I could easily handle it. For one thing people kept calling me "Dawn", or at least to my ears it sounded that way. Humphrey was clearly an idiot and I didn't like him much. And I felt like shit today. I had a headache, which was unusual, and I felt more than a little irritable. By late afternoon my feet were swollen and hurting. I also had an ache in my lower gut. Again I was surprised at my co-workers. This time it was Susan, the big sister of our group. "What's the matter?" She asked, in a concerned tone. "Ah, I feel like shit and I hate Humphrey, he's getting on my nerves. Do you have any aspirin?" "Oh, I get like that too, Dawn. Listen, I don't have any aspirin, but take a couple of these, I think they have aspirin in them." I shook a couple of pills out of the box she had pulled from her purse and started for the water cooler. "Wait Dawn, I've got some herbal tea in my desk drawer, why don't you wait a minute while I brew some? She had a point. I needed a break. I joined her in her cubby, took the pills and shared some tea. In a half an hour I felt better. On the train on the way home I found a little box in my pocket with a note. "Here's a little something for those bad days like today." It was signed simply "Your friend, Susan". It was the box of pills and two tea bags. The pills were those that relieve women's cramping and waterlogging, but by golly, they seemed to work! And Susan, what a dear friend. She was truly concerned about me and that made me feel good. So good it brought tears to my eyes when I thought about it. I blinked rapidly to get rid of the salty feeling, but no one on the train seemed to care that a grown man might be crying for joy. Except maybe the teenage punk sitting three seats back that seemed unable to take his eyes off of me. When I got off at my stop the kid did also. I was certain that he was going to mug me. He didn't look that big and I was sure I could handle him if it came to that. Instead I turned and ran quickly down the platform. A wave of fear like I've never experienced came over me. I felt alone and vulnerable. I didn't want to go to my car. I was afraid he'd follow me home. I turned several corners until I thought I lost him. I ducked into a restroom, partly to give him time to leave but mostly to give me a breather while I calmed my nerves. I ran for a stall and sat down. "What the hell was that all about?" I wondered. I was pulled out of my stupor by the sounds of voices in the bathroom. They were women's voices! "Shit", in my terror, I must have ducked into the Ladies room by mistake. I waited until the voices disappeared and quickly unlatched the stall. I was hoping to make it out before anyone else came in. No such luck. A woman of about seventy was tottering in on a cane, blocking the exit and leaving me standing there for everyone to see. I muttered an apology, but she just looked up at me and smiled and said, "You're so sweet." Thank God for old ladies. Sitting alone in my apartment I thought about the day's events. I don't know what the hell came over me. What I did didn't seem rational. Why was I so afraid of that punk? Is this an effect of a mid-life crisis? Oh I forgot, the counselor had termed it a "mid-life review" when my wife had it. Women! They all stick together. I thought I finished my crisis last year when I signed my divorce papers giving away almost every possession I owned along with most of my life up to that point. Still I felt feelings today with an intensity I had never experienced before. Fear, and warmth of a good friendship, and even irritation at Humphrey. "Maybe that's what happens when you begin to rebuild your life," I mused. Most of the time, after six scotches alone in my apartment I just sat in a feelingless void. But today was different; I was entering a different kind of stupor. "No", I thought, "my mind is racing tonight", like the way my heart was racing in the train station today. Thoughts crept into and out of my head. "Susan, does she like me? Nah, she's too young?and married. Besides, I feel more like a father, no, that's not right, like a brother, no that's not it either. Maybe like a sister." I woke up with a start: "What the hell was that that just crossed my mind? Am I going crazy? But the idea was correct. I think what we experienced today must be what two sisters or two good girlfriends might experience together. It wasn't like anything I've ever felt with any of the guys on my old softball team. All we ever did was get drunk together. No, girls must bond differently. And I was lucky enough to peer into that relationship for a while this afternoon. How interesting, I had never thought about friendship with a woman before, especially one so young, but Susan had all of the markings of a good friend. My new life in the big city began to settle down. In May I was able to move from my cramped apartment on the sixth floor to a ground floor apartment that had been rented for many years by a widowed woman. I was delighted to have a small patio outside of the sliding glass door. I inherited the woman's flower garden too. I had a bit of panic that I might accidentally kill off these flowers, since I was never a green thumb around my old suburban house. But I found that after a couple of weeks they were all doing well. I really enjoyed coming home after a long day at work and sitting in the garden and taking in the fragrance of these flowers. They were something that I had nurtured and it made me proud. I'd built lots of things at my engineering firm, but I had never really nurtured a living thing before. They say that the pollution in the city kills off your sense of smell, but I found just the opposite. It seemed like this spring was filled with wonderful fragrances that I was just oblivious to before. Like the deli, and the bread shop, and even Mr. Humphrey's after shave and Alice's flowery perfume. Walking through the perfume department of the major department stores became a treat, and I confess to lingering, just so that I could take in the mix of smells. I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. After only two month's on the job I had to take a day of sick leave. It started late on a Tuesday with me feeling irritable again, with a headache. By evening I was sure that I was going to come down with something. I had the worst feeling in my lower gut. It was sort of like a stomachache at first but lower down. "No, maybe it was more like when?. Well I don't know." By morning I was feeling so bad I knew I had to skip work and see a doctor. Four hours later I finally saw a doctor at the "urgent" care center. He was overworked and clearly not interested as I described these vague and unusual symptoms. He mumbled something about giving me a prescription to get my regular cycle going again. It seemed stupid to me; I wasn't bothered by constipation. As I picked up the pills at the prescription the woman at the counter said, "These work well, I have to take them myself when I feel like that, but they will have you feeling better again soon. But be sure to take one each day for twenty-five days, then skip the next three days." Well, whatever. On the way home I stopped by the liquor store to replenish my supply of scotch. I was going through a bottle a week, down from almost a bottle a day right after my divorce. But I didn't make it to the scotch section. I found myself craving a frozen margarita instead. "That's odd," I used to think they were too sweet for me. I bought a bottle of tequila, a tub of salt, and a can of powered mix. On the way out of the store I paused in front of a display of glasses. Drinking margaritas from a tumbler wouldn't be right. I picked up four delicate long stemmed bowl shaped glasses. "Margaritas have to be drunk from the proper glass", I thought. At home I salted down the glasses, crushed some ice, and mixed up a frozen margarita. I drank two with a salad for supper. When I woke in the morning I felt better. I wasn't sure if it was the pills or the margaritas but I didn't hurt. I was surprised that two margaritas had quenched my need for alcohol. Normally I'd have drunk a lot more. I had a pretty good day at work, or at least most of it was. We were having a meeting about the Brittley contract. Several of the big players came downtown. Humphrey wanted me in the meeting because I had handled most of the administrative details for the contract. Or at least that's what he said. Actually, I think it was because he didn't have a clue as to what was going on and he needed someone to help him get through it. The meeting went well, although I felt a bit overwhelmed by the end of the day. A couple of odd things transpired at this meeting. One was when Humphrey introduced me to Bob Larson from the legal department. When I held out my hand to shake it he grabbed just my fingers and part of my palm. He clasped my palm lightly. Instead of a firm handshake, I had a limp greeting. He shook hands like a girl. I thought I had held my hand out in a normal way, but maybe I didn't. Or maybe he never learned how to shake hands like a man. For some reason I didn't speak up like I would have at my old engineering firm. Maybe because I was sick of Humphrey, making obscure references to sports trivia to cover for his lack of ability. Maybe it was Bob. I kept catching him looking at me throughout the meeting, but he'd turn his head as soon as we'd make eye contact. During a break he came over to make small talk and he sat next to me at lunch. While the rest of the guys talked sports, he asked me about my job. "How do you like it? "How long have you worked here?" etc. By the afternoon I was kind of flustered by his attention. Finally, I twisted my body a half turn, placed my knees together, and bent my legs back, tucking my ankles up near the base of my chair. I placed my folded hands in my lap. That seemed to be the only comfortable position I could get into. It also hoped it would say, "I'm not interested" with my body language. Strange thoughts came flitting into my mind. I wonder if Bob is married. I glanced over and saw a ring. Now why the hell would I wonder that? At home that night I was celebrating by myself. I had finally been able to afford to reconnect the cable TV. This was my first night in months I could stare at the tube. I poured my first drink of the night and then began channel surfing. I paused at the Women's Lifetime Network. My eye caught Farrah Fawcett and I thought I'd see how she had aged. Not too badly. Oddly, I found myself being caught up in the story. She was playing an abused wife. I saw her struggling for her sanity, and in the end, her life. Her husband tried to dominate everything she did. But she was strong. The movie gripped me. I felt for her and what she was going through. I ended up watching the entire movie and then an "Intimate Portrait" of Sally Field. I found it odd that I would get caught up in a B movie like that. Or that biography. I never used to watch that stuff. I was so engrossed that I left my margarita untouched on the lamp stand next to the couch. The next morning I awoke without the alarm. Maybe it was the lack of alcohol in my system. As I stared at the ceiling a dream came back to me. It wasn't really a dream, more like an image. It was just a picture of my old heartthrob Susie Rigel, sitting on the back of an open convertible. Susie was the homecoming queen at my high school. I was in love with her, but she didn't even know I existed. I had the impression that Farrah Fawcett was driving the car with Sally Field sitting next to her. Funny how your brain picks up residual from the day's events and weaves them into dreams. Odd that I would recall any dream. I hadn't recalled one in many years. In fact I couldn't think of any other. This had been a point of contention with my "Loss" counselor. I hadn't gone to see her voluntarily. The judge had agreed to dismiss the assault charges against my ex's boyfriend and the stalking incident if I would agree to get help. But it didn't work out. She kept asking me about my dreams and I never could recall any. After a while she dropped me, saying that " I wasn't being a co-operative client and that it would be better for both of us if we severed our relationship." Well, severing that relationship was a whole lot less painful than severing the one I had with Beth. I thought we had a pretty good marriage. She worked part-time but was always home in time to make supper. She did the cooking and cleaning, I did yard work and drank scotch on the weekends. She was pretty old-fashioned and I liked it that way. Except maybe when it came to sex. I always thought that she was pretty square. I mean I think she only climbed on top of me once or twice the whole time we were married. Mostly just the missionary position. It seemed so out of character for her to start a relationship with another man. He was six years younger than me and four years younger than Beth. Maybe it would have been easier if I had seen it coming. It was quite a surprise to find them naked in bed together, her sucking his dick. In my own bed. Sucking his dick. She never did that for me. That Friday Mr.Burke, our senior division manager made a personal visit to our department to congratulate Humphrey and "all the girls" for their help in securing the contract. So I guess I was just one of the girls to him? Oh well, I didn't care if I didn't get noticed. In the past couple of months I had become so comfortable here that I wouldn't care to move up the corporate ladder. Besides, I'd have to leave all of my friends. He handed out a little present to each of us to acknowledge our efforts. Or rather, he left a plastic bag with Alice as he hurried to his next appointment. This must have been a big contract. Burke had given each of the girls a beautiful pearl necklace on a gold chain. I hung back wondering what my present would be, but Alice simply handed me an identical box. There were six in all, one for each of us. Maybe I was supposed to give it to my girlfriend or wife. I didn't have the former and I damn well had given enough to the latter! I slipped the box in my overcoat pocket and wondered when I'd meet the woman that would wear this necklace. Then I got a caught up in the excitement as the girls "oohed" and" aahed" as they tried on their necklaces. That night Carmen and I walked to the train station together. Carmen was the youngest of the girls that I worked with, only twenty-one. She had just broken up with her live-in boyfriend and was going through some hard times. I suggested that we stop in a little cafe along the way. She didn't want to go home to an empty apartment and neither did I. We ended up having dinner together while she poured out her heart to me. Funny, only a couple of months ago I would have been bored to death by all of this talk about her relationship. But I was keenly interested. I guess working with these woman had broadened my interests. Or perhaps it was just the friendship we had. I felt badly for her and shared her misery for a couple of hours. On the way to the station we got caught in a terrible thunderstorm and got completely soaked. Carmen's train stop came way before mine and she prevailed on me to stop by her apartment so we could dry off. Now ordinarily I probably wouldn't accompany a twenty-one year old girl to her apartment. But this was no ordinary time. She was hurting and needed me. Besides, if she didn't care what the neighbors thought, then I wouldn't either. "Now the first thing we have to do is to get you some dry clothes", she said as we walked in the door. She threw me a towel, a clean tee shirt and a pair of her black jeans. I started to protest, but I was shivering and wet. I went to the bathroom and took off my clothes and dried off. "Are you wet down to you underwear", she called through the door. Thinking that she wasn't going to have a pair of man's briefs around and I wasn't about to put on a pair of her panties, I lied and said no. As it was, I wasn't sure I'd fit in these jeans. The jeans did fit, although they were tight enough to be a second skin, especially around my hips and butt. The tee shirt was fine, except it wasn't long enough to cover my navel. But what the heck, I was warm and dry. After she dried off we sat in her nearly barren living room . Her boyfriend had pretty much cleaned her out and taken most of the furniture. All that remained was a couch and a lamp. As I sat down Carmen turned toward me, looking at my head and cried, "Gawd, your hair is a mess." It was true. The rain had really soaked it and I had just toweled it off. I hadn't had a haircut since I moved into the city. It had grown long enough to wear in a ponytail, although I was much too conservative to do so. I'd been meaning to find a hair stylist. "Here let me help you comb it for you." Before I could protest she had me sitting in a kitchen chair running a comb through it. "You really need a trim, do you see all of these split ends?", she asked. "I can trim it for you. I went to hair stylist school in Puerto Rico and even worked as a stylist until I moved here", she said proudly. Since she was correct, and she was also exactly what I needed, I quickly agreed. When she had finished she held a mirror to my face. I wasn't sure what she had done with my hair. It wasn't much shorter but it looked well groomed. She must have never cut a man's hair before. She had evened it out and layered it. It was stylish, but how can I put it? Feminine. "Its beautiful" I exclaimed, and I meant it. I wasn't just being nice. But what I was really complimenting was the effort she had put into it. I could always go home and comb it out to more my usual way before Monday morning. We ended up talking all night about what I would call "girl stuff." But it wasn't boring at all. I felt bad for her situation. By the end of the evening she was all cried out and we hugged and fell asleep on her couch. She at one end and me at the other, both of us curled into a fetal position. When I awoke I found Carmen was already awake and making breakfast. She had placed a warm blanket over me during the night. Actually, it was a red quilt. The kind with lace around the edges. One of those cozy items you would only find in a woman's house. "Good morning", Carmen said, as she poked her head from the kitchen. "That's one of my things that the asshole didn't take, I thought it would keep you warm". "That's so kind, I'm glad he left it. Its very thoughtful", I bubbled, not sure I was really expressing what I felt. The warmth of the blanket and the smell of breakfast made me feel closer to Carmen. She was the first Puerto Rican woman I really ever knew. My only previous contact with Puerto Ricans had been the janitor's at the plant I worked at. I never conversed with them, only listened to them speak Spanish to one another. But Carmen wasn't foreign. She was just like any other girl who was hurting from a relationship gone sour. I knew a little about what that felt like. All of the girls at work had been good friends to me, but this was the first time since my divorce that I could say that I felt like I was in a warm home with a person who cared for me. I had been missing that human touch. Trying to be Mr. Macho and all, toughing out the divorce, but the stress had obviously taken its toll on me, and now, almost a year later it was catching up. At the train station on the way home I saw an old friend. Tony, one of my old drinking buddies from the firm. He didn't see me though. I recognized him while he stood on the opposite platform but I couldn't get his attention. He looked my way, trying to see who was calling his name, but he turned before he saw me. I knew exactly why Tony was downtown. He was still up to his old tricks. He used to brag to us about how he would arrange for an engineering review late on Friday at the downtown office. He'd talk the boss into springing for a hotel room "in case the meeting runs late." Of course it always did, at least that's what he told his wife and boss. He'd spend all Friday night fucking the daylights out of his girlfriend in a company paid hotel room, then head for home on Saturday morning. We all thought it was funny. To think I used to admire him. My divorce taught me a thing or two about those kinds of games, except I was on the receiving end. Come to think of it, I was glad he didn't see me. What a shit he really was. I got home feeling refreshed. I felt better than I had in months. I hadn't touched a drop of alcohol last night, maybe that was part of it, but it was also the good feelings of spending a night with a true friend. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I walked into the bathroom. "No wonder Tony didn't recognize me", I laughed to myself. I looked like some kind of refugee. I was still wearing Carmen's jeans and the short tee shirt, with my long hair still combed in a feminine bob. The jeans didn't cover my bare ankles either. Besides the clothes and the haircut, I weighed a lot less. I would guess that I had lost 20 maybe even thirty pounds in the last couple of months. All of those salads I've been eating with the girls must have done me a lot of good. I stripped off the tee shirt and closed the bathroom door. There was a full- length mirror on the back of the door and I wanted to take a good look at myself. I hadn't really looked at myself for many months now. Oh, I mean I did when I shaved my neck under my beard, or when I brushed my teeth. What I meant was that I hadn't examined my body critically. I hadn't really cared how I looked. The last time I remember seeing myself in a mirror was when my wife's boyfriend heaved the one I bought her for Christmas one year in my direction as he chased me out of the door of my own house. I didn't need to see that kind of image again soon. But what I saw now pleased me. My gut was smaller. Smaller, hell, I really didn't have a gut at all. I had noticed my clothes fitting more loosely, but I hadn't realized how much weight I had lost. I was thinner than anytime since high school. At least around my waist. Like many middle-aged men I had put on a few pounds on around my gut and it had spread to my chest over the years. I had lost the gut but instead of the firm chest muscles I now had a flabby chest. That hadn't gone away. And I seemed to have a small bulge below my stomach that I'd never had before. It didn't feel flabby, but firm, and round. But overall, I looked pretty good. But my beard was gray and it made me look old. Besides, it seemed to have gotten thinner. I pulled out the electric beard trimmer and set the length on the minimum. It looked better, but maybe I should just shave the thing off? Impulsively, I took the beard trimmer adapter off and turned the shaver loose on my face. I paused for a moment before taking the mustache off, but figured what the heck, I could always grow it back. When I was done I stood back from the sink. I was amazed at the change. I sure looked different after twenty years with a full beard. I hadn't seen my face in that long. What struck me were my lips. They seemed much larger than I remembered them. I guess I would have to get used to seeing them again, instead of being covered by that drooping mustache. My skin felt as smooth as I could ever remember it. Maybe all those years behind a beard kept it from aging? Who cares, it looked good. Wow, what a day! I looked younger and better than I had in years. Shaving my beard seemed to have also shaved 10 or 15 years off of my face. I liked what I saw in the glass. Looking closer, I noticed that the bald areas on the sides of my forehead were growing hair again! Twisting around it appeared to me that the bald spot on the back of my head had virtually disappeared. I had been squirting liquid Minoxidil on my head twice a day for a couple of years. But it didn't seem to work very well. I didn't grow any new hair although I did seem to stop losing it. Funny how it must have had a delayed effect. I quit using it months ago and now the hairs were coming in. If this kept up I would have the head of hair I had when I was 19 again soon. Then something really strange happened. I had pulled my hair up to examine my scalp. I was standing there looking at a girlish ponytail, with wisps of hair framing my smooth face. I started to feel sexually excited. I have no idea why or what set it off. I had just about given up on having that feeling again. I know I hadn't had sex since the day before I found my wife in bed with her boyfriend, and frankly I hadn't given it much thought. Maybe all the alcohol had dulled the urge, or it was just too painful. But today, standing in front of a mirror in my own apartment on a Saturday morning, I felt that old feeling. I appeared a little feminine in the mirror and maybe that's what set it off. I don't know. I was too wound up to think about it much. I mean, isn't it really bizarre to get turned on by an image of yourself? I suppressed such complex thoughts and pulled the zipper down on the jeans. With my penis half-erect I walked to the bedroom. I pulled out a handkerchief and tied my hair into ponytail, using the hanky as a bow. On the dresser was the jeweler's box where I had carelessly thrown it. Inside was the pearl necklace Burke had given me. I opened the box and held up the pearl to my neck. I was alone and excited. I needed to be near something feminine. The necklace looked too small for me. Curious, I fumbled with the latch and found it easily fit around my neck. "Ridiculous", I thought. And yet I was even more excited. Dumbfounded, I searched for something else to enhance the feeling. Buried deep in my dresser was a reminder of better days. My wife had given me a pair of silk pajamas one year for my birthday and I was sure I still had them. I dug them from the bottom drawer and slipped on the pajama tops. This was the closest thing to feminine attire I owned. Then I tied it into a sort of midriff arrangement and went to go see my handiwork in the bathroom. I was enjoying its effect. With my slender body, new haircut and silky midriff top, I looked positively sexy. What the heck, I'm alone and I'm old enough and mature enough not to worry about this behavior. I opened the medicine chest. I was pretty sure I had kept it. When I moved in I had found a tube of lipstick on the floor behind the bedroom curtains. The widow lady must have left it behind when she moved. I thought I had thrown it in the chest. Sure enough it was there. I pulled it out. It was that ugly bright red that old ladies wear, but it was all I had. I turned the tube and thought about how sensual a sliding tube of red wax can be. I applied the lipstick, smacked my lips together the way my wife used to, and lifted my head to the mirror. The effect was startling. I hadn't had time to get used to my uncovered lips yet and now here was a full set of bright red ones staring at me! They seemed to dominate and feminize my whole face. But wow, what a turn on! In just a few short minutes I had transformed myself into woman. Well, more like a man in drag, especially with the hair on my stomach and arms but I ignored it for the moment and went to work on the hair on my head. A few strokes from my hairbrush poofed up my hairdo. I was excited. My tool was fully erect now and throbbing. I started to pull and stroke it all of the while posing in the mirror. With the lights off in the bathroom and only the warm sunshine coming from the bedroom window I could pass, in my own mind, as a woman. And it turned me on! I wanted the feeling to last, so I slowed down my stroking. I wished that I had some lotion or creme, but it didn't seem to matter. My hands were smooth enough to feel good down the length of my extended organ. Pulling and stroking, I walked to the bedroom and lay on the bed. I was now wishing I had taken Carmen up her offer of a pair of panties last night. It would have added the sensation. I closed my eyes and drifted into a fantasy world while continuing with my pulling and stroking. Man, it's been a long time since I've had sex, I'd almost forgotten how good it felt. I tried to picture in my mind a woman to have. For a moment I thought I was going to lose the feeling. I couldn't think of anyone. It wouldn't seem right to fantasize about the girls at work, that would be like thinking about your sister! That thought gave me the shivers. How about the waitress at the restaurant Carmen and I ate at yesterday? She was cute and had a nice body, but there was something about her that didn't seem right. I didn't like the way her blouse fit her and her shoes were a turn off. Hell I could have dressed her better than that. No, she wouldn't do. I quickly went through a list of movie starlets, a checkout clerk at the grocery store, and a woman I saw at the Laundromat. Even Susie Rigel, and Farrah Fawcett. None of them would do. Then a weird thought jumped into my mind. During dinner last night I had accidentally bumped the table and spilled my water. A busboy came to clean up the mess. I remembered now what wasn't even conscious at the time. I could now smell his musky body and I was aware now that I had taken note of his hairy, muscular arms as he bent over to wipe the water. For some reason that made me lose it. I came all over my hands and spilled onto Carmen's jeans. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom to clean up, embarrassed by my own thoughts. I had barely started when the doorbell rang! "Shit, what a time for a visitor", I thought. I tore off the silk pajamas, ran a tissue over the stain on the jeans and grabbed the tee shirt from last night and pulled it over my head. Through the peephole I could see it was Mrs. Griswald, the apartment super. I opened the door. "Good Morning", she said, "Sorry, to bother you, but I wanted to let you know that the painter will be in Monday to touch up that spot on the kitchen wall". "That will be just fine", I replied, thankful that this was going to be a short conversation. As I started to close the door she added, "You look very pretty today." "Thank you", I replied almost mechanically. Whew, that was a close one. I ran back to the bathroom to finish cleaning up and then a chill went down my spine as I realized what had just happened. My hair was tied up in the handkerchief and I still had on the red lipstick! "Oh my God, Mrs Griswald must think that I'm a fag." I stood there in horror and shame berating myself for such stupidity. Getting caught was only the most embarrassing problem. What was really disturbing was the behavior itself. It was so, so? QUEER. How could I have gotten excited like that? Even as these thoughts rushed through my mind I quickly wiped off the lipstick and tore off the jeans. Imagine masturbating in one of my friend's jeans, wearing some old lady's lipstick. And then being caught at it. I know she couldn't have missed the lipstick. It wasn't as if I had applied a muted shade. I wonder if she saw the spot on my crotch? I'd barely had time to wipe it. Her comment stung all the worse because it sounded so sincere. I didn't know that she had that kind of subtle cruelty in her. I sat there trying to piece this all together. Weird stuff has been happening ever since I moved to the city. At first I thought is was just the adjustment of a new job in a new city. But I've been here for a while and I should be adjusting now. What the heck was going on? I'm having the weirdest feelings, and worse yet, I'm enjoying them. Its true, I'm not the man I was only a few months ago. I think my new friends at work opened my eyes to a different world. In fact, if I knew a year ago what I know now about a woman's needs, maybe I could have saved our marriage. "Oh fuck that thought", I hope she and her "boy-toy" rot in hell. Who needs her anyway? "The sex I just had with myself was probably better than he'll ever get from her," I thought angrily. And what about that fantasy? I had been so busy with Mrs. Griswald and then ashamed, that I hadn't had time to think about what happened. I can't remember ever thinking about a man sexually before. "Am I crazy? Am I turning into a homosexual?" said one voice. "But wasn't it a pretty weird and wonderful sensation, and enjoyable?" Said another. The rest of the afternoon I argued back and forth with myself. "You are a fag if you don't purge those thoughts", screamed the shrill voice of the censor. But the calmer voice reasoned, "You're mature enough to tolerate a few strange thoughts." What's wrong with enjoying a sensual experience in the privacy of your own home?" "Well it wasn't so private once Mrs. Griswald knocked on the door", countered the other voice. In the end I could tell that the voice of reason and calmness was winning this argument. As I went to sleep that night, I came to the conclusion that everyone probably harbors a few homosexual thoughts. It must be a delayed stress or the change in alcohol that brought them to the forefront today. Maybe I should cut back some more on my drinking? In the morning I recalled a dream again. The second one in recent, or even long term memory. This time I was standing at a door in a small room. I was pounding at the door. I could see my wife through the small window. "Let me out." I screamed. But she simply turned her back. Now why was I dreaming about that? I have no idea what it meant. I wasn't even sure that I believed it meant anything at all. Except that the feeling of being trapped was so real. "Shit. I had lingered too long in bed. Now I was going to be late. I'd have to rush to get out the door in time to catch the train." I dressed quickly and got halfway down the hall and had to turn back. I had forgotten to take my pill. They seemed to be working and I didn't want that ache back again. Today was number twenty-five, so I could skip the next three days. At work I was surprised that no one noticed my missing beard. I didn't want to bring up the subject, but to me I looked so different, why didn't anyone notice? But they did notice my new haircut. I got three compliments before I even reached my cubicle and took off my coat. In my rush this morning I had forgotten my resolve to try to flatten it out or brush it back into its old style. Besides, I was starting to like it, and it would have been a slap to Carmen if I had changed it so soon after she had fixed it for me. By 9:30 I was hard at work piecing together a messed up contract. I turned to the file cabinet to get a contract and banged my chest right into the open drawer. Ouch, right smack on my nipple and it hurt like the dickens. Within an hour it was sore and swollen. I must have banged the other side too, because it also seemed puffy. To make matters worse it was cold in the office. I'd noticed that I was more sensitive to the cold lately. Odd because it was already hot outside. Maybe they kept it cool in our office to help with the maintenance on the computers. I sat there shivering, thinking about how my skin seemed so sensitive lately. I guess I must have lost some insulation as I lost all of that weight. The only place I felt like I had any insulation was in my butt. Everywhere else my skin seemed so thin that it couldn't retain any heat. My skin was soft and sensitive, both to temperature and to the touch. Barbara came in and saw me shivering. "Are you cold? I have a sweater", she offered. I was mindful of what happened yesterday and I didn't want any more reminders of my shameful actions by putting on her sweater. But she insisted and I relented. For one thing I was cold, and for another it was just a plain green sweater. Barbara insisted on draping the sweater over my shoulders. I closed my arms on the edges of the sweater and huddled for a minute with my arms crossed at my waist. "Why don't you go to the bathroom and try to warm up", she suggested. That sounded like a good idea. In our office we had a single bathroom, rather than a men's room and a women's room. It was always a few degrees warmer in there than the rest of the office. I sat down on the toilet and shivered as I relieved myself. I had decided a month ago that standing up and peeing was being rude to the girls. It simply splattered toilet water all over. When I worked with all men I guess the thought wouldn't have ever entered my mind. But I was more sensitive to how the women in the office felt. It was a courteous thing to do. Of course, Humphrey always sprayed everywhere, but then he was a jerk. On top of everything else I could feel those gut pains coming on again. They came in waves and felt like a tightening or squeezing sensation. I wondered if that swelling below my stomach had something to do with it. That's where the pain was coming from. I tried to review what I learned in high school health class but could think of nothing in that area that would cause these pains. Maybe I needed to visit the doctor again. That afternoon Humphrey called me in for a job performance review. "I'm pleased with how well you've caught on to your new work, Dawn", he started. "That sounds encouraging", I thought. Of course I'd like to give you a raise, but I might have to require you to perform some additional duties. "Oh I think I can do that" I replied eagerly. "The work would be of a more personal nature", he said in somewhat circular fashion. "What do you mean?", I asked, truly puzzled. "I have certain needs, needs that wife can't always satisfy," he started. "Mr. Humphrey, what the heck are you getting at," I was getting little annoyed at his stammering manner and was more than a little confused. "Just come out and say what you mean." I want you to satisfy me whenever I need it. If you agree I'll go to bat for you. I'm sure I can get you at least a ten percent raise. "Satisfy you?" I asked quizzically. "Yes, sexually." He replied. "You've got to be kidding! Who?I mean?What, do you think I am?" I steamed. "Now don't get angry, It doesn't have to be real sex, just a blow job once in a while. Maybe I can do better than ten percent. Yes, I'm sure I could get you 20, maybe even a 25 percent increase", he pleaded. "You are absolutely full of shit", was the best response I come up with. I was sorry for that and certain that I could think of something better if he hadn't caught me so unprepared. "Look, it wouldn't have to be all the time, maybe only once a week". He was pleading now. "Or once a month." He didn't get it. "Look asshole, not now, not ever, you idiot." I was surprised at how loud that came out and wondered if the sound carried through the office door. I turned to leave, mad as hell at him. "Please don't tell anyone about our proposition", he pleaded pitifully. I turned and looked him directly in the eyes, "Fuck you", I said without any emotion in my voice. I was beat red I knew. I could feel the blood in my cheeks. I couldn't remember ever being so mad. As I passed through the hall I knew that at least Alice and Susan must have heard what had gone on. But they were both motionless at their computer screens, pretending to be engrossed in deep thought. When I got back to my cubicle the anger subsided, largely replaced by confusion and doubt. This was just the wrong day for something like this to happen to me. I was already hurting with these gut pains and I was cold and sore, now this! Strange thoughts crossed my mind. "Maybe Mrs. Griswald called Humphrey and told him about yesterday? No, that was impossible. God, I only had one impure thought yesterday and today a man propositions me. Did I somehow transmit my thoughts to him? Is he telepathic? Him telepathic? You couldn't make him understand plain single syllable words. No, there was nothing I did, I'm certain of that." Alice appeared at the door sheepishly. "Was today your evaluation day?" she asked. I just nodded. "I guess one of us should have warned you in advance. Did he offer to get you a raise?" Again I nodded. "We've all been through the same speech. I thought it would have been different with you." "Me too", I replied. "Look Mary filed a harassment complaint against him only a month before you hired on. Upper management hushed it up and transferred her out. That's why he hired you, because she left. I really thought he had learned his lesson. I'm sorry we didn't warn you." "You couldn't have known", I blabbered. Tears were welling up in my eyes and I was starting to sob. "Come with me" she said and put her arm around me. Together we locked ourselves in the restroom. She cuddled me and I let go, sobbing like a schoolgirl. "This was just too much", and I meant it. Alice had no idea the conflicting thoughts I had had the last 48 hours "I know honey, it will be okay." Somehow, I believed her and it felt better. I was still upset on the way home, hurting emotionally, but also physically. I decided to stop at the urgent care again. This time the wait was shorter and a woman doctor was on duty. She was much more patient as I explained that I had been taking my pills and the pains had subsided but not gone away. "I think we can fix that. The dosage is probably too low." she said as she wrote out new prescription. "While you're at it, can you take a look at my chest?" I asked. I bumped it today on a file cabinet. "That's quite a bruise you have there. I don't think there is anything I can do about that, it will have to heal on its own. "But its really swollen", I answered. "Oh, I think these pills may be doing some of that. Your breasts may continue to be a little tender, especially with this higher dosage. Don't worry about it," she comforted. "And the swelling in my pubic area?" I inquired. "Oh yes, that too, don't worry about it, it's perfectly normal." Feeling better, I stopped at a large discount center to pick up the prescription and a few other things. I realized Saturday that I'd needed some better fitting clothes. Carmen's jeans had actually fit me pretty well, once I'd gotten used to the different cut of women's jeans and the tight fit around my butt. Now my clothes seemed baggy on me. I wandered around looking at slacks. I didn't even know my size. I'd never shopped for my own clothes before, my wife used to take care of all of that. There was so much to choose from and so many different sizes. Only half aware of what I was doing, I found myself in the women's lingerie section. Then that same strange feeling I had yesterday started again. Embarrassed, I grabbed a quick look around at the silky nightclothes and the panties. I imagined how smooth that nightgown would feel against my skin. "Buy it then," said a voice in my head. The screaming censor that usually countered such thoughts remained silent. I quickly picked out a red satin nightgown trimmed with white lace. For good measure I grabbed a couple of nylon French cut panties. I could always say it was an anniversary present for my wife. Who would know? I probably looked ridiculous carrying these through the store, but figured what the heck, this is such a big store, and I know no one in here. On my way to pick up my prescription, I stopped by and grabbed some lipstick and makeup. That shot my plan to claim these items as gifts for my wife. What man buys eyebrow pencils for his wife? I didn't even know what all of the stuff was called or what I needed; after the eyebrow pencil I grabbed some eye shadow, eyeliner, fingernail polish, and a package of nylons. No one was in the aisle with me and I wanted to be done before somebody showed up. I didn't even stop to check the size of the pantyhose. I was nervous, but thought, "If I am going to indulge in my fantasies, then I might as well do it the best way I can." The censor only whimpered as my sensual self laughed, "You worthless wimp, you aren't man enough to stop me!" As if the gods were mocking me, in walked no other than Mrs. Griswald. Maybe it was the censor's revenge. I didn't need her as a reminder of what I was doing Saturday. Fortunately, she didn't see me. My feelings of remorse passed as quickly as Mrs. Griswald had. "That will be $67.42 said the clerk." "Wow", I thought, "Women's clothes are expensive. "That's such a pretty nightgown," said the clerk as she carefully folded it. "Do you like that brand of pantyhose? I use the store brand and they seem to hold up just fine. They are cheaper too." I was hoping to get through the checkout counter without those kinds of comments. I'm sure she was mocking me, but I just smiled and thanked her. What else could I do? At home I went to work. First, I stripped down naked and ran the bath water. I threw in some bubble bath. Well, it was dish soap. It was all I had, but it foamed up nice and felt good. The warm bath felt so good. Even in spite of the "incident" today. I wondered when was the last time I had a bubble bath? Maybe when I was five or six. I recalled an argument with my mom. I was trying so hard to keep from taking a bath and she was determined put me in the tub. I cried and cried until my feet hit the warm water. It felt so good I quit crying. That cry in the bathroom with Alice felt so good. I bet I haven't cried like that since I was ten years old. It wasn't very manly, but I couldn't have picked a better person to share that unguarded moment with. It seemed to have expunged the ugly feelings I had. Right now I felt nothing but pity for Humphrey. Imagine him saying, "Please don't tell anyone about our proposition." I smiled thinking, "As if it had been a joint proposal." After my bath I dried off and went to work on my hair. Carmen had certainly trimmed it nicely and I was able to get an acceptable curl with just a round hairbrush and the hair blower. My hair was long enough to brush against my cheeks. That felt feminine. And it looked feminine as well. More so, now that I had curled it. It seemed fuller than it ever had been. I don't know how she had cut it but there was no hint of the thinness I once had. Then I tried on a little eyeshadow, and eyeliner. Wow, I was shaky and the lines were pretty crooked. But I got an acceptable result, despite not having a clue as to what I was doing. As I dragged the pencil across my eyebrows, I noticed an unusual effect. Something I hadn't expected. They seemed higher and further apart. I had the temptation to pluck them thinner, but then realized that it would be too noticeable. The higher eyebrows made my eyes look larger. I put a layer of eye shadow followed by another lighter shade. I was mimicking the way the girls at work applied their makeup. It seemed to work. A little mascara finished my eyes. They were large and beautiful. I was fascinated by what the makeup had done to my face. I could see now a truly feminine face. "Quite good looking." I thought. I slipped on the panties and pantyhose. The dark hose almost completely hid my hairy legs. I wished I had some high-heeled shoes, I'm sure I would have looked awesome. I had n