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Season of Terror By Tigger Copyright 2002 All Right Reserved Introduction: A Moment of Crisis Her lips set into a fine, hard line against the emotion burning in her throat, Victoria Denato started to stride out of her pastel-and-chintz-decorated bedroom only to catch herself at the last moment. If her plan was to have any chance of success, she had to have Jane Thompson's full cooperation - and she was absolutely certain that cooperation would not be forthcoming if she failed to be ladylike in any way. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she stepped across her room's threshold and walked with carefully measured gait down the hall that led to the main staircase. *Maybe I should have worn the taller heels,* she thought, *They would have made my walk more ladylike, but they don't go with the outfit. Remember, toe-to-heel, toe-to-heel... * she mentally repeated like a marching cadence. New and hard-learned habit had her checking her appearance one last time before venturing down to the main floor of the huge old house. The floor-to-ceiling mirror that dominated the second floor landing revealed no flaws to her now-experienced eyes - as should only be expected for Victoria had selected this outfit and dressed with equal care. After all, this Laura Ashley skirt and sweater set, combined with the opaque, white stockings had actually been praised by Marie, and barely commented upon by Ms. Thompson the previous time she'd worn it. *Although I can't think of any other girls who'd actually dressed in this kind of stuff, unless they were going to church or something,* she mused at her reflection. Her hair and makeup were as close to perfect as she could manage - though like her outfit they were too formal for morning. But Marie hadn't shown her how to cope with some of the color effects yet. Victoria resisted the urge to pat her hair to see if it was real. The bright golden shade clashed with the olive skin tones that were a legacy her Mediterranean ancestors. Sandy, drat her, had actually cooed over the look, assuring Victoria that it made her look 'exotically sexy'. With a sigh, Victoria squared her shoulders and headed down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, Victoria headed for Jane's study, the plush Persian carpet muting any sound from her modest heels. She was surprised to find the thick door slightly ajar as she approached it. A small sound caught her notice as she raised her fist to knock. Surprised, Victoria hesitated and listened, not sure if she believed the evidence of her ears - and then she heard it again. It was a noise with which she had become only too personally familiar in her months living at Seasons House. Someone was crying - except this time, it was someone other than Victoria Denato doing the crying. Cautiously, Victoria peeked around the edge of the door, not sure what to expect, and was utterly shocked to see that it was the indomitable Jane Thompson herself who was in tears, the receiver of her old fashioned phone held shakily in a white- knuckled fist. Some dark, malicious part of Victoria wanted to revel in whatever had driven her tormentor to display such emotion, wanted to savor the older woman's pain. Well, didn't the woman deserve some payback for all the humiliation she'd inflicted on Vic Denato? The part of Victoria that was still that rebellious hooligan - that rebellious MALE hooligan - wanted to shout aloud in the affirmative, wanted to relish in full measure this woman's grief. But for some reason, she just couldn't do it. *Whatever is bothering her must be pretty awful for her to break down like that,* Victoria thought. *Heck, she didn't even make sure the door was closed so she could cry in privacy. Now what do I do?* She thought for a moment and recalled her determination to see her plan through. Before she could change her mind, Victoria knocked sharply on the doorjamb and stepped into the room without waiting for permission. "Is there anything I can do to help, Ms. Jane?" she asked softly. Jane's head came up with an almost-audible snap, her eyes going wide as she saw her latest student standing in the open doorway. "Vic... Victoria," Jane stammered even as she tried to bat away the evidence of her crying, almost hitting herself in the face with the telephone. "What are you doing here?" the older woman managed as she carefully settled the phone back in its delicately scrolled gilded cradle. Her 'high-heel marching cadence' still playing in her head, Victoria stepped carefully into Jane's sanctum. "That's why," she said, pointing to the televised scene of devastation as she moved toward Jane's desk. "I need to talk to you about something I heard on the radio." Jane seemed to consider that for a few moments before moving to her desk. "Sit down, Victoria, and tell me what you want," she ordered as she took her own seat, although with something less than her usual brusque authority. Victoria took her seat, doing her best to perform that maneuver precisely the way she'd been taught, and turned to face her guardian. "The radio said the Red Cross needs blood donations," Victoria began quietly, "They especially need O- negative - the Universal Donor blood-type because of the emergency stuff they're having to do at...at... the, well, at the Towers." She actually shook herself to keep from babbling and forced her eyes to meet Jane's own violet ones. "I'm O- negative and I would like to give." Jane literally gaped at Victoria, momentarily stunned. *Obviously,* Victoria thought, *Whatever she had expected to be on her student's mind, donating blood had not been it.* "I see," and then she finally managed was to ask, "Why?" "Because they need the blood," Victoria repeated, again pointing back to the television, "for them." Reflexively, Jane's eyes followed Victoria's gesture and then closed as tears started to gather once again at the sights, this time of the Pentagon, she saw on the glowing screen. "It really hurts you," Victoria noted, "What's on the television. Did you... I mean," she faltered as she realized who she was talking to and what she was about to ask. "Did I what?" Jane asked. "Know someone who might... might be in there?" The older woman considered Victoria for several long moments. For her part, Victoria struggled not to fidget under that steely gaze; an effort that brought the momentary and unnoticed twitch of a smile to Jane's lips. "One of my gir... uh, students, works in the Pentagon," she finally admitted. "I haven't been able to reach he... him or... his family. The phone circuits are overloaded and I couldn't get through. Now they're asking non-essential calls to New York and Washington be curtailed." Victoria considered that and then remembered something she'd heard on the radio. "They said that the part of the Pentagon that was damaged was mostly empty - on account of it being renovated," she offered hopefully. "I hadn't heard that," Jane admitted, too focused on her worries to notice, let alone correct Victoria's grammatical error. "Are you certain of that?" "As much as I can be. I know I heard that at least twice on the radio." Jane nodded and Victoria wondered if who this student was - another of Ms. Thompson's manners projects? "Was... your student, that is, in the Army?" "No," Jane answered with a shake of her head. "Marines, actually." "There's a difference?" Victor asked suspiciously, only remembering to use Victoria's voice for the last few syllables. "According to the Marines, there is a world of difference, child," Jane replied, a single brow lifted to show she had not missed THAT verbal gaff. However, she did not specifically call the girl on it. Silence grew between the two as the repetitious and unchanging reports of destruction, terror and growing anger sounded from the television. After several minutes, Victoria could wait no longer. "Ms. Jane? About my request?" "To give blood? I must ask you again, why do you want to do that? Is this some scheme to get out of your skirts, Victoria?" The steady gaze that answered her question surprised Jane. "No," her student replied firmly. "It's not a scheme or anything else. I just need to... to do... SOMEthing!" "Really? Well, I am sorry, but I'm afraid that is out of the question," Jane replied sharply. "But the newscasters said they really need the blood!" Victoria slipped and it was Victor's voice that protested. "As I told you after our little trip to the mall, you're in skirts until I decide you've earned the privilege of trousers." The vivid blush on her pupil's cheeks spoke volumes about just how clearly Victor/Victoria remembered that recent experience. "A stipulation, I hasten to add, to which you agreed quite readily just this very Saturday, in fact." "I know that, Ma'am," the girl said softly. "That's why I dressed so carefully. I don't think anyone would question me dressed like this. We could go and give blood right now. No one would have to know that I'm...that I'm anything other than what I appear to be." "I see," Jane said in what Victoria thought was a very odd tone, "but I don't think that will work. I'm fairly certain that they, that is, the people who would be taking and using your blood, would need to know you are really a boy under that girlish finery. When they will test your blood, they'll find male hormones instead of the female ones they expect. The Red Cross might well have to discard otherwise perfectly acceptable blood. That would be a sad waste." "So?" Victor's voice cracked through again, but he pressed on as Victoria. "We just tell them who and what I really am once we're inside the clinic where they take the blood. I can do that. I WILL do that, Ms. Jane!" Shaking her head, Jane replied, "No, you will not. I do not choose to have it become general knowledge that some of my students are... 'troubled.' That would cast unwarranted aspersions on prior students and those to come after you. We must solve your problems without harming others in the process. And I believe your experiences this previous weekend demonstrated the futility of you trying to appear masculine?" Victoria felt her hackles rise and glared at the woman seated across the desk from her. "If that's what I have to do, Ms. Jane, then that's what I'll do!" At Jane's challengingly lifted brow, Victoria continued. "I'll go to a clinic, dressed just like I am right now. I'll tell them I am a really a boy who's being punished by being made to wear girl's clothes, but..." "But?" "Well, I sort of figured you must know someone in the medical field - in case I got hurt or sick, you know? Someone who could take my blood, fill out the paperwork correctly, but not give away my secret?" A thoughtful look crossed Jane's drawn features, but "I'm not sure that would work," was all she said. "Couldn't you at least check, please? And if that won't work, then I still want to donate the blood they need, Ma'am, even if it means admitting to...," and despite the best will in the world, Victoria had to swallow hard before continuing, "to being a boy who likes to wear girl's clothes and stuff... or to being a boy who's being punished by being made to dress up like a girl." "You'd break your cover just to donate blood? Again, I have to ask why?" For the first time since she'd stepped into the room, the emotion that Victoria had been fighting since staring in mute shock at those first televised images started to roil up out of control. Swallowing hard, she fought the tears, but knew it was a losing battle. "Because... because..." "Because why, child?" Jane prompted as she handed the girl a tissue. "BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE THE ONES WHO DID THAT!!" she burst out and then bolted from the room, slamming the door behind her. Chapter 1: The Beginning - Again *Lord above, but I am glad women don't wear feathered hats anymore. The plumage would definitely be drooping right now,* Jane mused as she once again stood upon the train station platform. The oppressively humid heat of late July in New England beat down on her and Jane's black 'power-suit' only made it worse. *It's a wonder I'm not drooping, and of course, this is the day the infernal train is late, too,* she thought as she cast her eyes down the track in hopes of seeing the electric locomotive appear in the heatwave-distorted distance. She was alone today because there was no other student in residence at her little school. That meant that Marie would be pressed into the 'good cop' role against Jane's 'bad cop' persona with this student. That was not optimal for the student or Jane's program, of course. Marie had other duties that would get in the way of her becoming the new resident's confidante, but using the deeply caring French Canadian had worked out well enough in the past and should serve again this time. *Perhaps, given this student's particularly belligerent history, the lack of a 'big sister' might be all to the good. Marie and I can take care of ourselves, well enough. Besides, we will know not to turn our backs on a teenager with a tendency toward violence, particularly when we've pushed him to the very edge of his emotional control. Another student, no matter how well we prepared her for her role, might get hurt.* The sound of the train's whistle sounded in the distance. Jane checked her appearance in the station's plate glass window, and then moved purposefully to the center of the platform. It was show time! Most of the train's passengers were obviously headed for Providence or Boston, and few of those wanted to leave the air- conditioned comfort of the passenger cars so Jane's new student stood out immediately. His Italian ancestry showed clearly in his dark hair and olive-toned skin. She studied him with professional objectivity as he gathered his bags from the porter. He was short, even shorter than she'd pictured from his file description, and while he wasn't slight of build, he wasn't bulky either. *Good skin,* she thought, *and no sign of any significant beard growth yet. Smooth facial features, too. We'll have to select his garments carefully, and a good corsetting will do wonders for _her_ figure, but we'll have no trouble getting him out into public en femme.* With that confirmed in her own mind, Jane moved to intercept her quarry. "Victor Denato?" she said in her sharpest tones. "Yeah, I'm Vic Denato," was the sneeringly insolent reply. "I suppose you're the warden here?" "I am," Jane said in icy tones, "Jane Thompson, your court- appointed guardian for an as-yet indeterminate period of time. *YOU* may call me Ms. Thompson." Something akin to humor, but darker and unpleasant, glinted in the boy's dark eyes. "Sure thing, Mizzz Thompson," he said flippantly. "Whatever you say." Jane knew better than to allow a confrontation between them to escalate in public, so she changed the subject. "Is that all of your things?" she demanded. A head movement that might have been a nod was all the answer she received. "Come along, then. It is nearly noon and we have much to accomplish today." "Yeah, sure. Get one of those porters over here for my stuff, then." "I beg your pardon," Jane retorted. "Were you speaking to me, young man?" "Who else, bit..., I mean, Mizzz Thompson?" Raw anger pulsed through Jane's heat-frayed self-control, but she managed to hold her composure. "From your record, I understand you are QUITE the, uh, physical young man, Mr. Denato. I think you can and WILL handle your own baggage. You will ALSO treat me and anyone with whom I direct you to work with absolute courtesy and respect or you can get back on that bloody train right now. You might make it to Boston before the police show up to cart you off to that reformatory. Your choice, Mr. Denato." If anger was sparking from Jane's violet eyes, violent fury was blazing in Victor Denato's. For just an instant, Jane thought the boy was going to try to strike her and prepared to deflect him. However, he backed off under her steel-hard glare. Slowly, with ill-concealed dislike, the boy reached down to gather his three large bags. Straightening unsteadily beneath their weight, he scowled up at the taller Jane. "Lead on, Mizzz Thompson." She did, thinking as she walked, *A bully, indeed, but I can handle that. Like all bullies, beneath all that male braggadocio he's also a coward. Well, young man, I will have no compunction at all pulling out the big guns with you! In fact, I am going to enjoy making you squirm and cry.* Chapter 2: Vignettes - A Program in Disarray Jane tapped her finger on her calendar as she dialed a familiar phone number. *I'll need to change that to August tomorrow,* she thought. "Marisha Chalet. Carolyn Beale speaking." "Caro! Jane here. Ready for another opportunity to excel, dear?" "So this newbie didn't take you up on your offer to leave in one of your frilly nighties, either?" Good humored satisfaction colored Jane's tones. "Not hardly, dear. He caved and gave his word to follow the rules, just like they all do eventually." "And you think she is ready to venture out into the cold, cruel world? What are you calling him...her?" "I think she's suitably cowed now, and we named her Victoria - what else? I don't have the imagination some of my students do when it comes to naming. Besides, I think there is additional impact to a girl's name that sounds like his real one." "Well, you'd know, Jane. So, what's the plan? Actually, I sort of thought you'd be bringing her in earlier. He's been with you, what, a week already?" "The usual first day at the salon experience with you and Sandy." "How does SHE look? How are her girl-skills? "Adequate, I think. After one week in the program, she's well into the initial indoctrination phase." "Any issues with behavior?" Jane paused noticeably. "I don't think so, at least for this trip. The removal of his male clothing and their replacement with the very frilly, exaggeratedly feminine wardrobe I use during the first weeks of a rehabilitation did result in an angry confrontation between Victor and I." "How angry?" Carolyn demanded. "He attempted to become physical with me," Jane admitted equably. "Without any success and to the detriment of his ego, I might add. You won't have any trouble with THIS one, I'm sure." ~-~ Carolyn examined the figure seated at her station with a professional eye. Like Jane, she saw both the flaws and the possibilities in the face and form of her subject. That her subject was a genetic male was not a significant issue - she had transformed far more masculine boys into passable young girls. Most were even attractive - once she relented and allowed them to be, that is. The little monsters had to *earn* that privilege first. Until they had, Carolyn and Sandy followed Jane's orders which required that the students be caricatures. *Oh, my, but has Sandy done a job on you, Victoria,* Caro thought as she considered frizzy blond ponytails, more suited to an eight year old girl than an adolescent woman-child. *I'll have to brush it out before the girls arrive for class, but even so, she's going to have more curl and body than any of the others. And those nails - she'll poke her eyes out before she learns to manage them. You must have really pissed her off, Victoria.* "Well," she said finally. "Aren't you the pretty child, Victoria. Having fun, dear?" Caro had expected to see the boy-girl's face color with embarrassment, or at most lighten with fear. Victoria's face did flush, but what she saw in those eyes was anger, perhaps even rage. *Well, it is not the usual reaction, but nothing I haven't seen and dealt with before with one of Jane's girls.* "Ah, ah, ah, dearie," she chided in a soft, barely audible sing-song. "Don't want to lose your temper and blow your masquerade. Unless you want all my customers and consultants to know that you are a pretty little sissyboy under that pretty school uniform." She saw his struggle to school his features and control his anger. *Have to watch this one,* she mused. *Jane was right about that temper of his.* "That's better. Now, Jane tells me you've been given basic training by Marie in cosmetics. She is good, but I'm better. What I want now is for you to do up your own face so I can see what you know, and what you don't. Then, I will use you as the demonstration model for my girls' club." Shocked, he sat up and stared at Carolyn, his eyes wide. "You'll what? What girls' club? Me?" *Gotcha!* "Didn't Jane tell you?" Carolyn asked with a sly smile. "She said I could use you to demonstrate make-up tricks to a group of girls I work with every Wednesday." "But, I can't, I mean, they'll figure out that I'm a...No, that's just not going to work!" "As I understand it, you've agreed to follow Jane's orders, and her orders were that you're supposed to follow mine. You'll do what I say or the whole deal is off, Missie!" "But all those girls... " "Will not notice a thing, other than that you are the 'new girl' and more than a little shy. Just do as I say, and play along and nothing will go wrong," she ordered as she began to undo ties holding the pigtails in place. "But I'm a boy!" Victoria hissed out as Caro began to brush out the expertly installed hair-extensions Sandy had woven into Victor's own locks. With a jerk, Carolyn spun the salon chair so that Victoria was facing the mirrored wall. She gripped her subject's cheeks between strong fingers so that Victoria had no choice but to stare at her own reflection. "But dear, you don't LOOK like a boy. In fact, you look nothing LIKE a boy, and so long as you don't ACT anything like a boy, no one is going to know you're a boy. So unless you WANT that fact to become common knowledge, you will be a good little girl - keep your mouth shut, do what you're told and SMILE!! Got it, sissy boy?" In the mirror, she could see Victoria swallow hard, then close her eyes and nod. "Excellent. Now, make up your face for me. All my girls are supposed to show up for class with their faces already done up so that I can critique their efforts and show them a few tricks to correct any errors. You, I suspect, will make a lot of errors which is why you'll be my model today." *And so that I can keep you out of TOO close a contact with the girls before you are really ready.* ~-~ Marie accepted the glass of sherry Jane offered. "Well, I must say that Caro continues to impress me with her artistry. Victoria's face was lovely." "Yes," Jane smiled. "And our little girl was VERY ready to run home to Seasons House after the make-up club meeting was over. All in all, a very successful first outing, I think." "Sandy got carried away," Marie said frowning. "I've seen dustmops with less bulk than that hair-do she foisted off on Victoria." Jane shrugged. "It's what she does, and very well." "I just think we should keep an eye on her, is all. That hairdo is not going to be easy for us to deal with and it certainly doesn't send the message we usually want our girls to get." "I see your point. Well, I think we will hold off on Brenda Franson's shop for a few more days - let Victoria learn a few more hard lessons before she has to keep her cool in her silky undies in Betty's changing room." ~-~ There was a wicked grin on Jane's lips as she listened to the phone ring on the other end of the connection. That grin only grew wider when she heard the line pick up followed by "This is Mrs. Edith White speaking, how may I help you," in the old lady's Brahman accents. "Edith, dear, this is Jane - Jane Thompson. How are you today?" "Quite well, thank you. Dare I hope that this call heralds the debut of another of your delightful young ladies to our little social set?" "In a way, Edith. I do have a new student in residence, but I'm afraid she not very ladylike. Why do all the children nowadays seem so... coarse and crude?" "Overly permissive parents, my dear, which is why ladies such as you and I must set proper examples and maintain certain standards." Jane struggled not to giggle at that bit of pompous foolishness, but could not quite repress the smile. "True, Edith, sad but oh-so-very true. In any case, I could surely use just such an example of impeccable manners for this one's benefit, and of course, I thought immediately of you. Could you come over for tea tomorrow?" "Tomorrow?" Edith responded, sounding uncertain. "Let me check my calendar... let's see, tomorrow is Friday, the tenth of August? Yes, I could make tea tomorrow afternoon. What time?" "Three p.m.?" "That will be fine. You do recall we are having a bit of a musicale on Sunday at the country club. A little food, some socializing, a bit of proper ballroom dancing for the young people. If your student performs adequately tomorrow, perhaps we could reward her with an invitation to the gathering." "Thank you, Edith - I'm sure that will do the trick, and oh, I almost forgot - it will be a formal tea. I'll have her wearing the right clothes, at least. Together, I'm sure we can teach her proper manners." ~-~ "She did WHAT?" Marie demanded. "She spilled hot tea in Edith's lap - all over that antique crocheted shawl the woman is so proud of. And Marie? It was on purpose." "On purpose?" "She mocked us every minute we were there. Aping mannerly behavior, mimicking Edith's accent to the point of hyperbole, putting lemon AND cream into the same cup of tea so that the cream curdled." Jane shook her head. "It was as if she was TRYING to infuriate me. Then she 'tripped' and spilled the tea on Edith. Thank God there had been time for it to cool a bit." "That's never happened before. Edith is a very scary lady. Now what?" "Keep trying. She starts dance lessons tomorrow. We'll see how that works." ~-~ "Ms. Thompson?" "Yes, this is Jane Thompson." "This is Allison, the dance mistress?" "Yes, dear. What can I do for you?" There was silence on the other end of the line, and Jane could practically feel the woman gathering herself for something unpleasant. *And since there is only one thing we have in common that is likely to be unpleasant...* "Is this call about Victoria, Allison?" The woman's sigh of relief was audible, even across the phone line. "Yes, Ma'am." "That bad, eh?" "She just doesn't want to be here, and frankly, it's affecting the rest of the corps. She doesn't pay attention, and so she makes mistakes. On the dance floor, mistakes can get other dancers hurt." "Other students have been injured?!" Jane was aghast. *She was probably afraid to bring it to my attention since I underwrite a significant portion of her operating budget. DAMN!* "Not badly, Ms. Thompson. A couple of ankle sprains and a pulled hamstring. The problem is that puts three of my five male dancers out of commission and with a performance coming up, I just can't afford to lose male leads for any length of rehearsal time. Besides, no one wants to partner her anymore." *Precisely her intention, the nasty little bitch!* Jane's mind snarled. "You don't...the injuries... they were really accidents, weren't they?" "Carelessness and inattentiveness, Ms. Thompson," Allison responded with a hard edge in her voice. "Ma'am, until Victoria learns some discipline, well, I just can't have her in the class. It's not fair to the ones who come and give me their all. I'm sorry, and I know you do a lot for the troupe, but... " "But nothing, dear," Jane interrupted. "I understand, and I will continue to support your efforts. It is not your fault my niece refuses to be accountable for her actions. Thank you for your call. Yes, good bye." Jane set the phone down on it's cradle, very, very carefully. And then pounded her desk with both hands in frustrated anger. It was becoming clear that unless the girl was watched like a hawk, nasty little 'accidents' tended to happen to those around her. *Oh god, and tomorrow is the big Labor Day picnic in town. And I *HAVE* to attend.* ~-~ "Go to your room, Miss!" Jane snarled as she herded her student into the front foyer of Seasons House, "And don't leave until I personally permit it!" "Yes, Mizzz Jane," Victoria replied in a sing-song voice before sauntering up the grand stairway toward her room. "I just want to THROTTLE that girl!" Jane fumed to Marie as they both went into the music room. "Get in line," Marie growled as she beat Jane to the brandy decanter, pouring generous portions of the fragrant amber liquid into two crystal balloon snifters. "You should have known better than to force her into the egg toss." Jane sighed as she accepted her share of the distilled wine. "I'll replace that blouse, dear. Even you can't get dried egg out of silk. I just wish I could prove it was intentional so I could really lay into her for THAT. Unfortunately, as she has so often, her visible behavior was impeccable until we were two miles down the road on our way home." "And then the little... bitch went snotty on us yet again. "And there is no reason to believe her compliance with any orders we give her here will be any less maliciously precise than it has been in the previous six weeks. I must tell you, Marie, I am getting bloody tired of doing in-depth rhetorical analysis on any order I decide to give this one." "She has me doubting my instincts, too." "Join the club, Marie. Heavens, I don't know why I bother to use feminine pronouns with this one. I just wish I understood what was behind that dichotomy. It isn't courage - I'm very sure of that. Thus far, I've seen nothing to indicate she possesses that virtue, and besides, if the boy really doesn't fear my games, why would going to the beauty parlor or to any other public venue have any effect on his behavior?" "If I knew, I'd tell you, Jane. And you know I've tried to get her to talk to me about it, with very little success. The only thing she's let slip is that, for some reason she wouldn't share with me, she has concluded that so long as nothing happens outside of this house to reveal his true nature, whatever happens inside Seasons House doesn't really matter. "So we must conclude that it isn't so much Sandy, Caro and their antics that reach Victoria, but the public nature of the trips to encounter those women. Victoria is clearly more careful with her behaviors and mannerisms when she knows she is going to be on display or in public - with her cosmetics and dress, too." "At least she's learned those lessons well enough not to endanger the program when she's out in public," Marie sighed. "She's learned to be rather attractive when her attitude isn't getting in your face." "Unfortunately, the outings are only a threat, a bluff, as you will know. We can't permit a break in the student's feminine persona while we're out - only while we're at home - and we need such 'failures' on her part. They provide us with the psychic wedges we use to break down the resistant male ego." "So where does that leave us? With a student who has somehow figured out that he really is safe?" Jane nodded morosely. "How he has reached that conclusion, I have no idea. Unfortunately, the fact that he is correct only makes my problem more difficult." "Difficult?" Marie snorted "Try impossible, Jane. That attitude can not continue or we will never make any progress with the boy. In fact, you and I both know we're *that close* to having to give up and return him to the juvenile criminal justice system. "Like Hell we will!" Jane snapped furiously, and then blushed. "Sorry, dear." "That's all right, Jane. I hate the idea, too." "Somehow," Jane thought aloud, "we have to shake his certainty that he is safe so long as he doesn't break cover outside the house. The problem with that is that it necessitates putting him squarely in the public eye and breaking the masquerade in front of witnesses." "JANE! You're KIDDING!" "Not really, but that concept does pose several problems, not the least of which was that if it does not work, it's all over. If public unmasking, even though it's in the limited sense I'd dare attempt, fails, nothing else will have any beneficial outcome. Eventually, the terms of the court order that sent him here will force us to send him back, and let the juvenile detention system have its way with him." "You said there were problems - plural. What else?" "The second problem, of course, is that he has already been exposed to most of our fellow-conspirators as a cross-dressed male." Jane rose and went back to the sideboard for a bit more brandy. "There isn't anyone else we can use to set up a 'safe' - read that, not real - public unmasking. He is, by now, only too aware that Sandy, Caro and Betty Franson are in on the masquerade. I think he would very probably conclude that any other local establishment I try to use for that purpose were also in on the game. He has to believe that he really has been unmasked. That requires some truly public location." "Are you thinking of what you did to Michael?" Nodding, Jane resumed her seat. "Yes. It is chancy and it might as easily backfire as work, but for the life of me, I cannot think of any other choice." "How will you set that up? You usually do that far earlier in the program when the student still thinks you might actually let him go and while he is still reeling from the sudden change in his lifestyle. This one has already figured out too much." "And I don't have a big sister to tease him into it, either," Jane admitted. "I think there is a way, though. I just hope I understand his psyche now well enough to predict how he will react if his male pride is put on the line." "You're kidding," Marie burbled as she finally understood. When Jane only shook her head, the little French Canadian could only laugh. "Amazing. The only way to feminize him is to challenge him to prove his masculinity and then call upon his sense of male honor. All right, then, what's the first step?" "I call Caro. I will need her help, but she needs to know why first. We cannot forget that he does have a history of violence and we are about to push his buttons about as hard as we can." ~-~ "Caro? Jane, here. Is Sandy there? Are you two available for a quick conference call?" "Hi, Jane. Sure. Let me get her on the other phone. We're just about done for the day here, anyway. Just a sec... " Jane heard Caro's muffled yell for Sandy to pick up the phone, probably through the other woman's palm over the phone's mouthpiece. A click heralded Sandy's arrival. "Hey, Jane! What's up?" "Obviously, I need your help, ladies, but I must also warn you that the plan I have decided to follow is something that could really backfire on us." Sandy snort of disgust was plain, even across the New England phone lines. "Victoria still being a little piss-ant for you out there?" "Crudely put, Sandra, but unfortunately, also highly accurate - and we're running out of options with this one - running out of time, too. If we don't reach her soon, it's all over and she goes into the loss column." Carolyn's own husband was a Jane Thompson success and she didn't even like thinking about her life had Jane not been able to turn his life around for him. "What do you want to do? What do you want from us, Jane?" "I want to pull out all the stops," Jane said in a rush. "For what I have planned, I need to make it impossible for him to look at all masculine, regardless of how I permit him to dress." "Okay, I understand the goal. What have you got in mind?" "Oh, not much. Hair coloring, I think. Something audaciously brazen and utterly blatant." "More than we've already done with her?" Carolyn asked, surprised. "More than we've ever done - period. As I said, pull out all the stops." "We can do that," Sandy said confidently. "When I'm done with the little witch, her hair will light up a dark room. What else?" Jane let out a frustrated breath, and refocused herself. "What I'd *like* to do is inflict a big-hair hairdo on her that would embarrass Dolly Parton, but we can't do that. He has to agree to this ploy, and I'm sure he'd decide I was cheating if we augmented his coiffure more than we already have done. No, whatever we do, we're stuck working with just what he has now. Unfortunately, even with the current extensions, that collar length hair just won't cut it for big hair. Dammit!" "Wow, you are bedeviled if you're reduced to making bad puns and cursing, Jane," Caro chuckled. "Umm, Jane? I think I know what you're planning, and I may have an idea on that," Sandy put in. "Really? Let me hear it, please...oh, and before I forget. Sandy? Those new, special nail-tips you told me about a few weeks ago? Those, too." "They're expensive, Jane. Very expensive," Caro warned. "I can afford it, Carolyn, and I am afraid this might be our last chance. I won't be penny-wise and pound-foolish with a young man's future in the balance." "You're the customer, Jane. When do you want to come?" "Tomorrow's our regular day for the Chalet, and that's fine, but I think we might want to have the salon... well, the fewer real customers in the house, the better. Just in case." "I see," Caro said with a sigh. "Okay, I'll open an hour early just for you two." "Thanks, Carolyn, and Caro? I will be there for the entire appointment this time. Just in case. Now, then, Sandra, tell me what you had in mind." Chapter 3: A Student Challenged - The Laced Gauntlet Jane got out of her chair and walked over to the sideboard. She poured herself a glass of mineral water which she sipped contemplatively as she considered her student's intentionally inept heel-walking exercises. They'd just returned from the Marisa Chalet where Caro and Sandy had outdone themselves. Parade-polished Marine Corps brass didn't gleam like that hair, and then there had been a trick or two to that manicure as well. Jane had immediately started in with lessons as soon as they'd returned. As Jane had anticipated, the moment Victoria was back inside the house she had reverted to the obstreperous, obnoxious little snot she'd been since day one. Oh, she followed 'orders', to the letter, but that was all she'd do. After several failed attempts to gain some measure of compliance with the meaningless exercise, Jane gave an exaggerated sigh. "Victor," she began, intentionally addressing him by his real name for the first time in weeks, "this is not working, and it's because you're not trying to work with me - as you promised you would." "I am SO trying, Ms. Jane," Victor rejoined, with obvious insincerity, "but, well, I'm just too much of a man to look like a convincing girl. It's not my fault." Which was exactly the response Jane had anticipated from Marie's conversations with the student. "Oh? I think you do quite well if you'll just look in the mirror. It's only when you fail to put forth the necessary effort that your portrayal falls short of satisfactory." "No, Ms. Jane. It is the standing still part that does it, in these clothes that are clearly girl's clothes. "You're not going to give me that 'clothes do make the man' nonsense, are you?" Jane scoffed. Victor grinned at that. "No, but let's be honest. First, people see what they expect to see. Somebody sees a skirt, and they figure, so long as it isn't something really draggy, that's a girl wearing the skirt, right? Second, you, Marie and those two bit... errr... women at the salon are experts at this stuff. I think you could make the Rock look like a girl, provided he didn't move or talk. That's what I do when we're out, because I just don't want to deal with that, but I can guarantee you this - as soon as I do anything active, or if I wore pants, then I'd be all man and you know it," he finished with a hard nod of his head in emphasis. "And so would anyone looking at me." *An excellent analysis,* Jane thought. *And too close to the truth by half. Still, You've just offered me an opportunity if I play this correctly. "You think so?" Jane asked with heavy disbelief coloring her tones. Her student turned to the mirror and gave the reflection a quick look. One hand went up to the now-shoulder-length hair and palmed the curls flat before he turned back to face Jane. "Sure," he replied confidently. "A little of that mousse-stuff to slick down this wavy hair, a shirt that buttons down the right side, throw in a pair of jeans and some flat shoes and I *WOULD* look like that model guy Sandy mentioned yesterday. Heck, if it was a little longer, I'd look like a younger, better looking version of that Fabio-guy all the girls are goofy over." "Then how about a test?" Jane offered with studied nonchalance. Now suspicion flared in the dark eyes, "What kind of test? And why should I even try one of YOUR tests?" "Because you said you'd follow my program, and in fact, gave me your word on that score?" Jane replied off-handedly, "But perhaps being a MAN, you need more than that to give your best effort." "My word, MIZZ Thompson," Victor hissed, "WHEN it is freely and fairly given, is solid... *gold*! You have NO call to say OTHERWISE!" "So you say, young man. Forgive me if I believe you have given me cause to think otherwise. In any case, I am willing to accept your word, assuming we can reach an agreement." "An agreement? What kind of agreement?" Victor demanded, suspicion dripping from every word. "A very simple one, and one you should have no trouble at all winning - if you are correct and I am wrong, that is. You work with me for one day, tomorrow, that's Thursday, doing whatever I require to the very best of your abilities. On Friday, I will provide you with pants, a shirt and casual shoes and we'll go to a shopping mall. If you are sufficiently masculine, you will find the minor things I've had you do so far - plucking your eyebrows and so on - to be inconsequential. Surely, no fair and objective observer will see you in any way other than as you see yourself. In that case, I sign off on your release forms the moment we get back here, and you are on the next train back home - a free MAN. With me so far?" "Sounds great to me, but I have figured you out a bit in the past weeks, Ms. Jane. Nothing you do is what it seems to be at first glance. What's the catch?" "Well, if your appearance remains sufficiently feminine to be an issue, either for you or for the people we encounter at the mall, then will you agree that the problem is not your appearance, but your attitude? And agree to do your VERY best to comply not only with the letter of my program, but with what you very well know is the intent of that program." "Hah! Fat chance. It won't be any skin off my nose, but sure as you're standing here, one or more of your bit...buddies will be there to make it look like I failed." "My word of honor, Victor, that no one associated with me or my program will be involved except for you and me. We will even drive to a distant mall so that you can be assured no one associated with my program will be there." *And so that no one will recognize either of us and associate you with Victoria.* "So," Jane continued, direct challenge in her eyes, "Do you have the courage for such a public test? Do you have the personal honor to comply with my conditions, regardless of the outcome?" The jibe hit him squarely in his overblown male ego, just as Jane had intended. "I can do ANYthing, Ms. Jane. Anything *I* WANT to do, that is," he snarled belligerently. "No one will mistake me for a girl, not in pants and, well, other reasonable clothes." "Very well, then. Tomorrow we will redo the dressing exercises and you will show me what you have really learned." "No weird clothes!" he put in quickly. "None of those tricky things that change color when you wear them or anything like that." "What was it you said? Jeans, a shirt with buttons down the right side, by which I assume you mean not on the side a woman's blouse buttons? Oh yes, and some flat-heeled shoes? I can do that, but in return I expect you to be 'fair' with your voice." "Fair? What do you mean by that?" Victor asked, obviously dropping his voice into an artificially deep register. Jane smirked. "Just that," she retorted sardonically. "You need to speak with no attempt either to force a strongly masculine, deep voice, nor the feminine voice you have learned to use. That is not to be a factor in this challenge, since you have demonstrated an ability to speak either way and so it is not an unavoidable problem with a feminine portrayal. Agreed?" "How do I do that? I'll have to speak to someone," he insisted, still affecting the gruffly bass voice. "If it's required that you speak, you will use a normal tone of voice, but speak softly and politely. I will abide by the results of using your normal speaking voice, neither artificially deep and harsh, nor light and animated as a girl would use." "That it?" "I can't think of anything more just now. However, once you step out of my home, the game is on, and our agreement is in force, and regardless of the outcome, we agree to fairly and fully comply with the terms of the challenge, young man!" "Oh really? Like how, Mizz Jane?" "If you back out, or if you catch any grief at the mall, then you come back here, go straight into skirts and lose that idiotic macho-jerk attitude!" "If you say so, Ms. Jane," was the flippant, self-satisfied reply. "But *when* I win, we come back here, I get my own clothes back, along with my freedom and a ticket on the next train home." "Oh, I do say so, and you've agreed. As to the final outcome of our little wager, well, we'll just have to see, won't we? So, I will see you later at dinner. I need to tell Marie that for tomorrow, at least, you've graduated to... adult makeup products instead of the more youthful ones you've been exposed to thus far. She'll ensure that you have a complete assortment in addition to your more age-appropriate products. Perhaps the seemingly-overwhelming difficulty you have in behaving like an adult will be simplified if you can at least look the part," Jane paused to let the jibe sink in before continuing. "Yes, I think we'll try for that tomorrow, once we're certain you're complying with that part of our deal, as well." Jane watched the skirted teen leave the room and took a deep cleansing breath. He'd taken the bait. If she could just get him out of the house on Friday, she had a better than fifty-fifty chance of winning their bet. If he wouldn't leave the house after he saw how he looked, maybe she could make that work, too. "So, pants AREN'T enough, eh?" It wouldn't be optimum because one thing Jane had come to respect about this student was the value he put on keeping his word - at least the letter of his word. "I wonder if Marie knows who this Rock person is?" ~-~ The boy had done well, Jane admitted as she watched him stomp down the stairs from his room, given the tools she had provided him. *A bit TOO well!* "I think NOT, young man," Jane said sternly as she moved to block his way out the front door of Seasons House. "Huh? What?" he asked, his head down and angled away from Jane's accusing glare. "That!" Jane replied directly, running a finger down his cheek. "Using cosmetics to fake a beard you don't have falls outside of our agreement." "Hey, guys have beards," Victor told her in as off-handed a tone as he could manage knowing he'd probably already lost. "Some *men* do, but they are not created with dark makeup. This exercise is about the masculinity of your basic appearance. You will clean your face as thoroughly as you are able - an area, I might add, in which you seem not to have paid appropriate attention to your lessons. A *lady* always pays attention to the cleansing of her skin, and you *agreed* to follow those lessons completely. That *is* the agreed-upon basis for this test, correct?" "But... a beard is legitimate..." "Or, I am willing to put off our trip until tomorrow or even Sunday," Jane offered, all sweet reason in her voice, "Except that you will have to work just as hard for me today and up until the day of the trip as you did yesterday. Except I won't insist that you shave. Just to be fair, of course." Jane could see just how little the thought of one or two more days like the intentionally hellish one she'd put him through yesterday pleased her student. *Heavens, I am surprised he can walk without a limp after all that walking in heels practice,* she thought. Finally, his shoulders drooped and he turned back toward the stairs. "I'll go clean it off. I want to get out of this place as soon as possible," he mumbled before adding, "It was just a final 'make sure' thing anyway - the last straw." "I'm sure," Jane replied, her face deadpan. Then a thought struck her. "Oh, and Victor?" The boy stopped mid-step up the stairs and turned to look down at her. "Use the other powder- room facilities while you're cleaning up? I would consider you slipping into the men's restroom at the mall a cheating trick to make people THINK you were a boy." "But... but, what if I *have* to go?" "That's why I'm telling you to take care of that matter now. I don't imagine we will need to be there long, but if it becomes a REAL problem? Either find a unisex bathroom or concede our challenge." Anger flashed momentarily in the boy's dark eyes, and for a moment, Jane thought she might have pushed too hard. Then, Victor nodded, stiffened his spine, and headed back up the stairs. Only then did Jane think, "Oh lord, I hope Marie remembered to remove all those color-fast cosmetics last night. It would really make things difficult if he couldn't clean away that fake beard." Chapter 4: A Student Challenged - A Day at the Mall Fortunately, he had used the washable cosmetics in the creation of his beard, Jane mused an hour and a half later. She watched with satisfaction as Victor slipped out of her car. Everything, so far, had gone perfectly, at least from Jane's perspective. The clothes, which in the blatantly feminine background of Seasons House had seemed innocuous, no longer seemed so middle of the road. In fact, against the more gender neutral environment of the mall parking lot, the total package portrayed a subtle, yet clearly feminine image. The jeans were so tight through the groin as to emulate a dancer's gaff, thus giving the wearer a decidedly girlish profile front and back. The shirt was particularly devious. At first glance a pirate's shirt - regular collar but soft, top button fairly low in front, with wide sleeves that gathered down to tight cuffs - it was fitted rather tightly about the waist and lower rib cage, but just a little loose about the shoulders and chest. The brightly colored magenta fabric was opaque in direct natural or incandescent lighting, however in the harsher, fluorescent lighting of the mall's interior and stores, the fabric would appear sheer and would give subtle indications of a budding, pre-adolescent bosom. No particular feature was 'wrong' in that shirt sported a real collar, real cuffs and buttons on the 'male' side of the shirt (though they were hidden in the folds of the material), but the net effect was effeminate - VERY effeminate. When combined with androgynously styled 'penny-loafers' and scalloped white socks, well, Jane suspected that once Victor got a good look at himself inside the mall, he would no longer think his outfit met his definition of 'reasonable'. Unfortunately for her student, he had accepted them when they'd first been presented to him at the house. *Next time, he'll try wearing them on before making any snap judgments. If there is a next time.* However, even more important than the outfit was Victor's face and hair. The gel-like substance he'd used to slick his hair down before leaving Seasons House was not really styling mousse at all, but an alcohol-based product. Thanks to the heat of the Indian Summer day, that ersatz 'mousse' had completely evaporated away during the drive from Kingston to Providence. If anything, the permanent wave Sandy had applied was even 'fluffier' than it had been before Victor had applied the mousse. And his face, despite the ruthless scrubbings he'd inflicted upon himself in the vain attempt to remove the "adult" make-up, was still well and distinctly colored, emphasizing the delicacy of his feminized features. But la piece de resistance was Sandy's miracle-of-modern- science uncuttable manicure. Just during the short drive to Providence, Victor had already forgotten to keep those girl-claws hidden in his fists at least five times that Jane had seen. *It's going to work,* Jane thought relieved. *Taken as an integrated whole, Victor's presentation literally shouts 'GIRL' to any casual observer, except to the still-over-confident boy himself. I'll have him back at Seasons House and in skirts before tea time.* "To review our agreement, Victor," Jane said as she came around the car to join him. "You will make at least two full circuits of the mall on your own. I will follow, but at a distance so that you will face the world on your own. You must make two stops at stores and buy at least one thing with the money I've provided. No knives, male clothing or girlie magazines. Something simple, not associated with either sex. You may then leave the mall triumphant. If however, you are challenged, or questioned directly about your sex, then you will agree that I have won." "Yeah, yeah," he snapped, trying without success to hide his taloned fingers in the too-tight pockets of the jeans. "Let's do it." "All right, young man. Let's," Jane agreed. "Good luck," she called after him as he hurried away. *He doesn't believe I meant those good wishes,* Jane sighed inwardly. *It's just that our definitions of what 'good' luck would be in this case are diametrically opposed. Lord, please let him fail here so he can succeed later in my keeping.* ~-~ The mall was of an older style, essentially a strip-mall with a roof, and had few of the more-spacious amenities of the modern super-malls. The concourses were relatively narrow, and for the most part, ran in straight lines so Jane had no difficulty keeping an eye on her pupil as he bull-rushed his way through the first circuit of the mall. That strategy had the advantage of shortening his time in the mall, but the distinct if unrecognized disadvantage of drawing attention to the speeding teen. By the time he'd reached the far end of the mall, Victor was being examined, covertly by some and overtly by others, by nearly every shopper he encountered. The increasingly amused and wondering looks on each passerby's face assured Jane that her ploy was working. *Hmmm, I'd say my little program of studies has been more successful than I thought. Those are some rather effeminate mannerisms and postures he's exhibiting. Seems almost second nature to the boy, too. Excellent.* The first circuit of the mall, however, went without incident, but Jane was not worried. *At the rate he's going, he might just make it out of the mall without anyone challenging him,* she mused, *but I accounted for that in our negotiations. He cannot pass the test without going into at least two stores and he will have to stop completely in order to buy whatever it is he elects to purchase. That pause in his headlong charge should be his undoing. I hope.* Jane decided that his first loop of the mall was in the way of reconnaissance - looking for the least 'dangerous' place to make his required stops. 'Less danger', she was sure, meant few people in the area and in particular, no young people. Actually, there should not have been any young people at the mall - school was back in session and it was a Friday, after all, but Jane had accounted for that in her selection of this mall for her little test. The shopping center was located just a short distance from a local high school and was a favorite lunch stop for the older students who considered themselves too mature for their school's cafeteria. *And isn't it fortuitous that it is just about lunchtime,* Jane grinned to herself as she saw a large group of teens enter the mall's main concourse heading for the food court. Unfortunately for Victor, their point of entry was by then behind him so he did not see the newcomers until he turned to begin his second loop and found himself face to face with a cluster of rather boisterous teenaged males. Recognizing the threat at last, Jane watched as he tried to evade them by changing direction, but that only served to catch their full attention... . and whet their curiosity. In short order, Victor had at least half-a-dozen of the boys following him down the mall. *Full marks for strategy and quick thinking,* Jane chortled silently as he suddenly dove into a lingerie store - a maneuver that served satisfied half of his store-stop requirement while bringing his pursuers up short at the storefront door. *And that counts as his first stop. Too bad there's only one entrance to that store,* Jane thought. *Because unless he escapes soon, one of those under-employed sales ladies are going to attempt to sell him some frillies." As Jane predicted, Victor emerged from the store moments later with two of the sales staff bearing down on him. He tried to dodge the phalanx of still-waiting boys, but the exit was too narrow and he found himself quickly surrounded. Jane suddenly found herself in something of a quandary. If she closed the group to a distance she could hear what was being said, she might scare off the boys too soon. On the other hand, if she couldn't hear what was being said, she'd have only Victor's account for what happened. *Would that be enough?* she wondered. She had come to believe that this student possessed an innate honesty that would preclude him lying to her, but she wasn't one hundred percent sure. *And a boy's future hangs in the balance,* she reminded herself. She was close enough that she could make out voices, but not the words being exchanged. Victor said something to which the largest of the boys replied. *At least he's keeping his word about not using an artificially deep voice,* she thought. *I just wish I could understand what was being said!* It was the look of growing fear on the still-cornered Victor's face as the boys closed in on him that made up Jane's mind. *This is wrong,* she thought and then moved decisively to intervene. *I'll find another way to gain his cooperation, but this test just came to an end!* Regardless of the greater goal, she wasn't going to let one of HER boys be hurt or worse by this scheme. She'd just started to close when Victor suddenly gave a panicky squeal and bolted, knocking over one of the boys in his headlong flight. "VICTOR!" she called out to him, but he evidently did not hear her, or if he did, chose to ignore her. He ran past Jane before darting down one of the mall's side- halls. Following as best she could, all the while cursing her modestly-heeled shoes, Jane barely made it to the hall in time to see him slip into a restroom. A men's restroom. *Gotcha!* she thought in relief as she settled on a bench to await his return. *All I have to do is be here when he comes out.* Twenty minutes later, however, she was still waiting for her student to emerge and was beginning to grow anxious. *Is there a window in there? Or another door? Where IS he??!?* Another fifteen minutes passed with no sign of Victor and Jane was very worried. *Why isn't there ever a security person or reliable-looking male around when you need one?* she fumed, scanning the mall concourse, and only then did she realize that the boys who had frightened Victor so badly were still there - waiting. *Well, I can do something about THAT, by God!* Jane Thompson rose to her full height and strode purposefully over to the end of the hall where the six teens congregated. Her head high, Jane gave them each 'the look' before asking, "Isn't it time you gentlemen returned to your classes?" Three of the boys looked abashed while another two looked expectantly to the obvious leader of their group. Jane recognized the cocky air and smug grin even before he opened his mouth. "What do you care," he said with a dismissive smirk. A mental picture of that somewhat overweight, pimple-faced fool squeezed into one of her corsets and colored by Marie's cosmetic artistry brought a chilling smile to Jane's lips. Each boy literally took a step backwards. "Oh, I don't care," she assured him sweetly. "But I do enjoy my truant officer job with the school district. Did you know that every teen I catch cutting classes loses driving privileges for six months? Now, if I might check your id's, gentlemen? Just to make sure you're over eighteen, you understand?" Their hasty retreat did a great deal to lighten Jane's mood as she turned back toward the restroom. A man was just emerging from the door and Jane was wondering if she might ask him about Victor when the boy burst from the restroom, nearly bowling over an older woman in his flight. Relief poured through Jane as she hurried towards her student, only to pull up short as she realized the woman was busily berating Victor. "... The very idea," the white-haired woman fumed as Victor literally cowered from her wrath, "running about like that - heedless girl! And from the BOY'S bathroom. The very idea," she repeated, the 'finger of Mother' shaking furiously in Victor's face. *Wonder if she's related to Edith White?* Jane considered amused. After the outraged woman finally stormed away, Jane sidled up to the thoroughly shaken boy. When he didn't make any move to escape or continue the test, Jane knew she'd accomplished her objective - Victor was hers for the duration. Just to be sure, however, she asked "Do you want to try again?" as she approached. "Do you think you can make, say, four circuits without having any MORE people accost you for your, shall we say, unmasculine appearance?" "No... please, no more. You... you win," he told her in a thin, almost breathless voice. "You win, just please, get me out of here!" then he hiccupped out a sob, "Please." Nodding sternly, Jane offered him her hand as she would a small child and was surprised when he took it. "Very well. Let us leave, and don't worry about THOSE ruffians," she added. "Like all those who bully others weaker than themselves, they were decidedly lacking in any real fortitude and ran as soon as I challenged them." The allusion to bullies and their lack of personal courage also struck home, Jane saw, again precisely as she had intended. In the final analysis, and despite the uncertain moments, it had been a most successful excursion. Chapter 5: Recognition - Phase 1 Morning sunlight shone bright and clear through the old glass windows of his Seasons House bedroom when Victor sat down at the little vanity table to 'dress' for breakfast. And it had been 'Victor' who sat there in those private, early-morning moments before Ms. Thompson or Marie came to enforce their feminine tyrannies on him. Or at least, it always had been until this morning. Before when Victor Denato had looked at himself in that mirror, his mind's eye had seen what he'd wanted to see reflected there, regardless of how he was dressed or how he was made up by the women of this house. This morning, however, even he had to admit the reality of the very feminine picture that stared back at him from those silvered depths. He'd fallen into Ms. Thompson's trap so easily, he thought sadly. Fallen, hell, he'd jumped at her so-very-carefully-worded challenge without a second thought, so cocksure that he could handle anything she might dish up to him - because *he* was a *man*! Right. Memories, still painful and vivid, o