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Kate, Part 1 By Ricky The damn fool window was stuck. I whacked at it a few times, then strained my muscles against the painted wood, but it remained stubbornly in place. Since I had slid down the storm window last November I had been perfectly happy to have the thing firmly in the closed position while the wind and snow blew around the old house in the country, but Spring had made it's tentative arrival and I wanted to let it in the house. Stubborn thing. At last I went down in the basement to see what might be found among the odd tools and just plain junk that had been left by the previous tenants. A very rusty hammer hung on a rack and an old putty knife, crusted with dried glop of some kind, was buried in a box of disused tools. A few blows from the hammer and most of the glop cracked away from the blade. I returned upstairs and beat on the window for a minute and then pulled once more. Reluctantly it slid upward and the warm spring breeze pushed itself inside the old farmhouse. I repeated my physical violence on the other windows and soon the wonderful scent of warming earth filled the place. I gazed over the farmland that surrounded me and breathed a sigh of satisfaction. I had been incredibly fortunate to find this place to rent. It was an old cottage that appeared to be in the middle of nowhere, but in less than five minutes I could be at the Wegmans Supermarket or the Wal-mart. It had been the original building built by what grew to be a large farming family, back when family farms were viable and prosperous. Fifty feet to the left, as I sat on my back porch, was the vast old farmhouse with its great, faded red barn that had replaced the small cottage when times were good. The rambling old place had been added to whenever times got better and was typical of country homes of that era. The rotting ruins of two other family houses dotted the road a bit further down, having been abandoned as too expensive to keep up and too far from the city to be sold or rented when times got bad. Until a couple of years ago, when they had extended the 4-lane, Brockport had been pretty quiet except for the students at the venerable College where I had started working in the fall semester. Now it was 20 easy minutes from downtown Rochester and it was turning into a bedroom community. Which explained why my bedroom window looked out on the fields. I loved the old place and the rent was half what I would pay for some modern 'townhouse'. I dare you to show me a 'townhouse' with a couple of acres of land around it, let alone a garden. The living room of the cottage was filled with the pots in which my garden was starting, the porch held the new tools I had gotten from the garden center, and I finally had an excuse for driving the pickup I had owned for the past few years. The cottage now satisfactorily (and naturally!) air conditioned I couldn't wait any longer. I grabbed a rake from the porch and set forth with a will to clear winter's accumulation from the lawn and garden. I had amassed quite a pile and was starting to spade over some of the garden when my concentration was interrupted. "My, you are the ambitious one, aren't you? You're going to look like a lobster if you don't find a hat, you know. I would have thought a redhead would know better." It was Stephanie, my neighbor and landlady. She is a rather good looking woman and generously padded in all the right places. At about 5' 10" she was a tall and striking. She could look me straight in the eye without having to crane her neck, which was a shame because that would have emphasized her long, dark hair. With her gracious movements and regal bearing she was even more stunning than I had remembered. Since I had rented the place last fall she was invariably clad in warm, bulky sweaters and clothes that disguised her body. I guess the big, old farmhouse must have been expensive to heat, but from talking to her I gathered that wasn't the only reason she usually concealed her fine figure. This first warm day of spring must have lowered her inhibitions. I had gotten to know a little about her over the months. Whenever I dropped by with the rent check she would usually invite me in for a cup of coffee and whatever homemade goodies she had baked. We shared a passion for gardening and education. She taught the 2nd grade and I was a lowly adjunct professor of English, hoping someday to get tenured and stop moving around to someplace new every few years. She was easy to talk to and more than once we had sat gabbing at her kitchen table for several hours, thoroughly enjoying each other's company. With the sudden arrival of warm weather after a long, cold, dry spring I saw her for the first time without a bulky sweater. I had certainly been right about the figure, but I tried to behave as a gentleman should. "Well, I do know better, but it's such a beautiful day I couldn't wait to do something with the garden. I don't even own a hat." "Typical man, you typical man. Wait here a second." She took off for the big red barn and disappeared inside. A moment later she came out and before I knew it she had placed a hat on my head. Not just a hat, but a wide brimmed straw hat even more absurd than the one she wore, decorated in artificial flowers and with a long cluster of ribbons hanging to one side. "There, that's better. Now you won't have to worry about having your nose match your hair." "Thanks, I think. Would it be gauche to point out that your hat is not going to do much to protect you in that outfit?" "Probably, but who cares? Besides, I've still got sunscreen from last summer and used it before I came out." "Such a sad thing, a woman as lovely as yourself being so efficient and sensible, it is, it is." You never can tell; with my red hair I can sometimes get away with a phony Irish accent even if my ancestors had never been within hailing distance of the Emerald Isle, although I wouldn't be at all surprised if some roguish resident of the Emerald Isles had gotten considerably closer than that to one my umpty-great grandmothers. People see what they expect, and when you have red hair you're expected to be Irish. "Hey, can I borrow your spade? I'm going to need to shovel some shit if you keep that stuff up. Remember, I did a background check on you when you rented the place." "Aye, and a bonnie braugh business women as well. 'Tis just as well as you've caught me out as I have just about run out of blarney, in any case." I dropped the phony accent and continued. "Too bad I didn't think to store up some sunscreen. Who would have thought summer would arrive without spring before it? I've been wishing I could take off this shirt for a good while now. I suppose it's just as well, I must look pale as an old fish after a winter indoors." "As long as you don't smell like one I have a strong stomach. Take off you shirt and I'll let you use some of my sunscreen." She was off and loping to her place before I could even say thank you. I couldn't help noticing how she looked as she jogged to the door, the tank top and shorts left very little to the imagination, and I have a very good imagination. Indeed, it was a bit of a distraction not to be staring down her cleavage as we spoke. She returned at a more sedate pace and handed me the tube of sunscreen. I somewhat self-consciously removed my shirt and applied the white goop. "Here, let me get your back." she offered. She had strong hands, she would have made a great masseuse. "There. At least you don't have to worry about tan lines, you lucky man." "Now didn't the court rule a few years ago that women can go topless in public as long as it isn't for, as they so delicately put it, 'business purposes'? You gotta love the New York legal system." "What a shame! I guess that means there won't be any picnics at the Klassy Kat this summer." The Klassy Kat was a "gentleman's club" that made the news with some regularity. "I suppose way out here you could dress as you pleased and no one would be the wiser." "Not unless you're planning to go blind in the next few minutes, buster. I could scratch your eyes out if it would help...." "Heaven forgive me lass, me tongue got ahead of me brain for a second. I'd be keeping me eyes as they are, 'tis all the same to you." "Yeah, and I know just where you've been keeping your eyes, buster." She said as she glanced downward to her ample bosom. "Was I that obvious?" "Nah, you're pretty good about it." She started to giggle. "Go ahead and look, I'm used to it, you know.", although her tone belied her words. "Well, to tell you the truth, since I'm lacking any significant cleavage, I really don't know of my own knowledge." I quipped. "What are you planning for the garden?" she changed subjects. So we discussed the ABCs alyssums, bellflowers and columbines for the next little while and I showed her my sketches and plans for the flowers. She showed me the pictures of her garden from last year, quite an elaborate affair. Before long we were arguing who was going to cook supper for who. We compromised with her cooking the main dish and me supplying dessert. An altogether wonderful day in the country. She left with a promise to work together on the gardens. Funny, for six months or so it had been just me and the occasional mouse and the place felt like home. When she left, the cottage felt strangely lonely. As is typical of Upstate New York, Sunday morning dawned dull and wet. Gone was the 80? sunshine and in its place was 50? damp and fog. I really should get in the habit of consulting the weatherman before agreeing to an outdoor date. There was a fog of slumber in my head as well and it didn't seem to be clearing any faster than the fog outside. The phone started to ring. "Hello?" "You don't sound very awake." "That's because I'm not. Where did the sun go?" "Behind those clouds over your head. The ones with the silver linings. We can spend the day in the potting shed and still garden without getting rained on." "Yeah, but you won't be wearing your tank top this time." Did I really say that out loud? "Sorry to disappoint you. I'll wear a tight sweater if that helps, but I'm going to be wearing a sweater." I guess I did say that out loud. I should know better to answer the phone before I had my coffee. "You sound like you need a cup of coffee. Come on over and I'll even throw in some home fries and bacon." The woman was a mind reader. "I'm on my way as soon as I find a sweater myself." "Great! I'm wearing blue in case you want to color co-ordinate." She hung up the phone. I stumbled into the bathroom and relieved myself, scraped the whiskers from my chin and sniffed my pits - still OK. After all, I had showered the day's labor off last night before going to bed, no need for a shower this morning. Blue, huh? Who ever heard of color coordinating clothes to work in the potting shed? Well, I did have a faded denim shirt and plenty of blue jeans, so that's what I put on. Just for the fun of it I added a large red bandana around my neck (very cowboy) before I left. It was raining harder now and darned if I could find the umbrella. I was resigned to getting soaked when I spied Stephanie's hat from yesterday. Sun hat it might be, but it would keep the rain off me for the short run to the main house. It worked well enough and I was still shaking the water off me on the enclosed porch when she opened the door. "Nice, but the hat doesn't go with blue. I'll have to find something better for you. Wouldn't want you to appear in the 'fashion don'ts' in the tabloids." "Strange, I haven't noticed any paparazzi hiding in the bushes. You don't have Elizabeth Taylor stashed in the back room, do you?" "No, but you do look a bit like a bedraggled Katherine Hepburn this morning. I've never breakfasted with a movie star before." "I guess it's a good thing I phoned up Leo before I came over and told him to stay home. Once it gets sunny I can take you home to meet your parents and we could play a round of croquet. We'll see how far the resemblance stretches." "It would take a better Aviator than you to get that one to fly! Besides, you're an optimist. It could be months before it gets sunny again." "Don't I know it! Why don't we live in Florida?" "You ever been in a Florida thunderstorm?" "Nope." "That's why I live up here. That hat would be washed off your head and you'd be up to your pretty little knees in water before you knew it." "Gosh, I didn't know I had pretty knees. How can you tell?" "Your slip was showing yesterday. No, you phony Irish idjit, you have holes in the knees of your work pants. You do have nice knees." "Well, in that tank top you have nice..." "We better not go there quite yet, Kate. Breakfast is ready." So I shut up and ate, and didn't regret one bit. It had been a long time since a woman had cooked me breakfast, and I hadn't even slept with her. Yet. Afterward, we spent a companionable morning in the potting shed. I ran the gauntlet of raindrops several times to my place for seeds and such and as lunchtime was nearing we were preparing a large flowerpot with topsoil and genuine horse manure from the stable just down the street. Stephanie was struggling to get the top off the large container she had transported it in when she slipped and it opened all at once. I found out why she had kept it tightly covered when several large blobs landed on me, including one that completely covered my glasses. Damned lucky I was wearing glasses. Stephanie was abject in her apologies as I tried in vain to remove the smelly glop. I can't see crap without them and, most assuredly, I was seeing crap with them on. This was a dilemma of the first order. She took my hand and led me to the house. I hesitated at the door of the house. "You don't really want me to come inside like this, do you?" "Well, now that you mention it you do have a certain robust fragrance about you. Is it too much to ask you to take off your clothes and shoes?" "Somehow when I pictured getting naked with you I had a somewhat different scene in my head." "Let it stay there, fella. I have no intention of getting naked 'with' you. You are going to be all alone in your nakedness while I toss these clothes in the compost heap. I'm going to run across to your place and get you some new clothes while you shower. If you're nice I might even clean your glasses so you can see again." In my shorts, she led me to the bathroom and left me to find the shower in my half blind condition. I can see well enough to know that the large, pink blob on my right must be the tub. So I groped for the silvery blob at one end and was rewarded by a spray of water. The hot water felt wonderful as it rinsed the crap out of my hair and off my body. Funny how I had never contemplated doing that literally, but I was sure grateful for being clean again. I groped for what had to be a bottle and brought it close enough to read in my nearsighted condition. Conditioner. Try again. Shampoo this time, with half a dozen floral scents in it. Not my usual but better than horseshit by a long shot. I found the conditioner again and used it. I had come out of the whole ordeal smelling like a rose. Literally. There was a knock on the door as I dried myself off. "Are you decent?" What a straight line! I had to restrain myself. I wrapped the towel around my nether regions and opened the door. The nice warm air of the bathroom dissipated quickly as the cool spring air pushed it's way rudely in. I was confronted by a drowned rat. Stephanie's hair streamed down her body and clung to her breasts, dripping slowly on the floor as she stood there. I thought I could see her bra through the soaking wet, tight blue sweater, but to be sure I would have had to get much closer without my glasses. I didn't think that was a wise course of action quite then. She held a plastic bag with my fresh clothes in it, which drew my eyes from her what I would, in other conditions, have been examining closely. "You look wetter than I am. Maybe you should have taken me up on that offer of getting naked before you took a shower." "Smartass. Who needs a shower when Mother Nature is dumping her bathtub just outside the door. Here's your clothes." "Thanks. I do appreciate it, Steph." "No problem. Get dressed while I change." She grabbed a towel from the linen closet and closed the door behind her. I opened the bag and took out a pair of underwear, then put them on. Obviously she had spotted the clean laundry because these were the pair of shorts that were on the top of the basket, but when I pulled out the pants there was a problem. I suppose Stephanie hadn't felt comfortable rifling through all my drawers to find me something to wear, so she had taken the first things she saw in the top drawer of the dresser by my bedroom door. The problem was, those clothes were from many years ago when I was less of a man than I am now. By about 30 pounds. I had never gotten around to sending them off to the Salvation Army or some such, convincing myself that some day I would lose that weight and fit into them again. There was no way I was going to be able to hook the waistband, let alone zip the zipper. Maybe I could squeeze into the shirt but why bother when I wasn't wearing any pants? I wrapped my trusty towel around me and left the sanctuary of the bathroom. "Steph?" I stood shivering as I called. There was a muffled response, so I waited. Eventually she came out of her bedroom, looking much drier in a warm cable knit sweater and a woolen skirt, her hair wrapped in the towel. Her eyes widened and she did a great one eyebrow interrogation while I stood there in my damp towel and shorts. "Let me guess, you still have ideas about getting naked with me?" "Not as my first priority. You managed to find my old clothes. They - uh - don't fit any more." I shivered again. "Crap! Do you get the feeling we're caught in some French farce? Too bad I don't have a husband. If this were a play he would ring the bell right about now and I'd have to hide you in a wardrobe or something." "Well, at least there might be something warm in the wardrobe. I'm freezing." At that particular second the phone started to ring. We both cracked up and she could hardly speak as she answered it. "Hello?" "Oh, Hi Mom!" "You're what? " "It figures.... No, not you . I'll explain in a minute. Bye." She hung up the phone. "You get your choice - hide in my wardrobe. put on my bathrobe or shiver yourself to death. Mom's out in the driveway. She called on her cell so I could open the door for her so she won't drown waiting for me to open the door." I took the bathrobe. Who knows how long they would talk and a wardrobe can be damned uncomfortable. How do I know? Once in my misspent youth I had occasion to hide in one. Don't ask for details, it's too painful to remember. "Good Lord, girl! Are you planning to start a stable in your front hall? Didn't I raise you better than that?" "This from the woman who kept asking me if I was born in a barn while I was growing up? As if you weren't there when I was born." "At least if it were my stable I'd muck it out once in a while. It stinks to high heaven out there!" "Those are my tenant's clothes, Mom. I dumped a bucket of horseshit all over him and I wasn't about to let him come in wearing them." "Stephanie darling, you'll be the death of me yet. Pray tell why were you throwing horseshit at your tenant? He wasn't getting fresh, was he?" "Well, if he was fresh before it happened he sure wasn't by the time it was over. Phew! Steve has been a perfect gentleman. I slipped while we were mixing fertilizer in the potting shed and he got the worst of it. Come in and meet him, Mom." I had been shamelessly eavesdropping from the living room, so I was ready to greet Stephanie's mother. I stood up, then hastily adjusted Stephanie's voluminous pink terry bathrobe (it was loose on her, a bit tight on me) as they came in. "Hi." I greeted her sheepishly. Maybe the robe should have been woolen like Stephanie's skirt. Steph's mom wore her grey hair long, gathered into a ponytail at the back. She looked like she had come from church, wearing a bright yellow skirted suit and matching sandals. Pretty stylish for someone who had to be in her seventies. It was easy to see where Stephanie got her figure from. "Hi yourself. Daughter, this is the first time I've ever met a perfect gentleman in a pink robe and purple bunny slippers. You do have odd tastes in men." "Mother! Steve's not a man!" That was news to me, but I wasn't about to resist the second great straight line in the past few minutes. "Well, if you would get me that bra and panty set you were promising before we were so rudely interrupted I'd be glad to put on my dress for your company." "Stephen! Wait - I didn't mean it that way!" She was awful cute when she got flustered. Getting naked with her was looking like a better idea all the time, even if she was my landlady. "Now darling, I'm sure your mother would understand. She looks like a lovely woman. It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Petrillo." I wouldn't have believed Stephanie's blush could get any deeper, but it did. "Did you know your slippers clash terribly with your hair?" Steph's mother was having a good laugh at the whole situation. "I suppose I'll have to make an appointment with Mr. Pierre at the salon and have my hair changed, then. Perhaps a light blonde with discrete violet highlights. That would match the slippers nicely." "Don't you dare! I know women who would kill for beautiful hair like yours. Why, I do believe you look a little like Kate Hepburn, now that I think of it." Was I in the Twilight Zone or what? A conspiracy theory was beginning to form. Maybe I was channeling a dead actress without even realizing it. "I've been told that before." "Have you now? Well, my daughter always did have better taste in girlfriends than in men." "Mother!" "Don't deny it, sweetie. A little work and Kate here will be absolutely stunning. Maybe you should brush your hair first though, Kate." "I didn't want to get too personal and use Stephanie's hair brush without asking." "You're standing there in her robe and bunny slippers waiting for her to loan you a bra and panties and you don't want to get personal with her?" "MOTHER! "Will you two stop that!" cried an exasperated Stephanie. "Sit down and let me explain, the both of you!" "Shouldn't you at least let Kate put on some underwear first?" How innocently she asked that question. She must have been as great an actress as the immortal Hepburn. Stephanie wheeled toward me, one threatening digit pointed menacingly at my chest. "If you two don't sit down I just might put a bra on you and see what happens." She paused. "Sit. Stay. Now!" So we sat and she explained, but I let her do it all by herself. I sure wouldn't have wanted to explain this ridiculous situation to my mother, but she did a pretty good job of it. While the rain poured down outside she skillfully turned the talk to gardening and we spent a pleasant hour or so planning just what we were going to do in the yard - if the sun ever shone again. Stephanie's mom, who quickly became Hilda, was as big a gardening enthusiast as her daughter. Before Hilda left we had arranged a trip to the nursery together on Monday evening after work. The rain had not given up by the time Hilda made her exit, but I felt compelled to say "I guess I should be getting back to my place." as Hilda pulled out of the drive. "In this weather? Nonsense! Let me start a fire and see if we can take the chill off the place. I'm looking forward to sharing the afternoon with my girlfriend Kate." Girlfriend? I wasn't feeling too much like a girlfriend, but what the hey? With a choice of getting soaking wet and spending the afternoon alone or curled up in front of a fire with a fine looking woman, which would you choose? Some time later we were both curled up on the couch with enough space between us that there was no implied invitation on either side. The room was starting to warm as the fire crackled merrily. We sat for a while in a companionable silence, just enjoying being inside while the storm blew outside. "So how did you come to be living alone in this big old farmhouse.?" I asked at last. "It's the family homestead. My umpty-great grandparents on the Petrillo side started farming here back when this area was the Western Frontier of the country. The place has been added to and passed down through the family for generations of farmers until Dad dropped dead in the field about fifteen years ago. My brother didn't want to be a farmer, it's backbreaking work and the pay is lousy. I guess that doesn't matter if you love the land, but he didn't inherit that from Dad. He moved to Buffalo and works in a little office at a big corporation and it suits him fine. Mom stayed on a few years after Dad died, but the big old place was just too big and had too many memories. Just about the time she was ready to sell the place off I broke up with my ex and needed a place to stay, so now I'm a Gentlewoman Farmer, renting the fields to real farmers and reaping the benefits. Which just about keep the old place running and pay the taxes if I'm lucky. Why do you think I'm renting the cottage to you - I need the money." "Don't we all." I replied "It must be nice to have a family place with some history. I grew up in a series of lousy apartments in the city. No history or roots in my family. Hell, I couldn't even tell you where my only cousin is these days. She married a Navy man and they moved somewhere without telling me years ago. I haven't heard from her since my folks died." "That's so sad. I can't imagine how it would be without family. We still get together every summer for the Pie Festival. It's better than a church supper - my family can cook! Wait 'till you taste Aunt Marge's blueberry pie." "Sounds good, but unless that's a proposal of marriage I'm not part of your family." "Not likely! I'm not really longing for a man to complicate my life right now, so you stay my girlfriend for the foreseeable future, OK? "You are one strange puppy, Steph." "Well, better than being a Bitch. You get invited to the pie festival because you live right in the middle of the campground. We have it here on the Old Homestead, silly. The cottage will be surrounded by a sea of tents. It's not just a family affair, we invite everybody we know and it's quite an event these days. I don't have to camp out any more now I'm living here, but I loved the weekends in the woods with my folks. Running a dairy farm is a full time job, those cows have to be milked twice a day come hell or high water, so they worked from sunup to sundown. It was a lot of effort to find someone to watch the farm long enough to let us get away, so those weekends together were very special. "That sounds awfully nice. I was an only child and never got to do anything like that. I didn't start camping out until one of the other profs convinced me to come with him when I was complaining about how boring summer break was. I found out I liked it so that's how I've spent most of my summers since then." "Do you get lonely living all by yourself?" "Not really. I've always been an independent type, maybe because of being without siblings. Not that I'm a hermit, but I do appreciate solitude just as much as a good party. Not that I'm going to be giving many parties, the cottage is very nice but no meeting hall." I took a minute to gather my thoughts. "I told you my folks were dead, and I only have a couple of people I count as good friends. We don't see each other much because we're all scattered across the country. One of those deals where if you see each other every few years you catch up and vow to see each other more often, then let another few years pass before you know it." "A couple of serious women in my past, a couple of less formal relationships, but I've traveled up and down the East Coast for a lot of years before I landed here. With the summers off I used to love the traveling, but once the McMalls took over the country you couldn't tell if you were in Atlanta or Boston. The country has lost it's character, traveling isn't what it used to be." To my surprise she put her hand on my thigh. "That's funny. I've been a teacher for all these years and have the whole summer off, too, but I've never gone more than few hour's drive from here and always longed to travel." "Then we'll have to go somewhere when the semester is over and I'll be your tour guide." "That would be fun, 'girlfriend'. I'll keep that in mind. You hungry?" I was. So we fixed supper and ate by candlelight in front of the fire. The storm had blown itself out by the time the sun was going down and I knew I had to go back to the cottage soon. I offered to help with the dishes, but she refused." "I told you I was a teacher. If I don't get my lesson plan done right away the little darlings will get bored in class and start a riot. You don't want to be responsible for a civil disturbance, do you?" I allowed as I didn't so she shooed me out after handing me my unused clothes. "You can bring back the bathrobe tomorrow when we go plant shopping with Mom. Now scat!" She pecked me on the cheek and pushed me out the door. It was still cool out there so I made a hasty trip to my own back door, feeling the warmth of her kiss linger on my cheek. I was glad I hadn't turned off the heater on Saturday when it was so unseasonably warm, because the cottage was warm and comfortable when I entered. I put my too small clothes on the dresser and was going to return them to my drawer when I suddenly decided it was time to clean out that drawer and admit I was never going to drop those 30 pounds and it was foolish to keep those clothes any longer. I found a box and emptied the drawer, then threw the clothes that Stephanie had returned on the top of the pile. What the heck? I picked up my too-small shirt and there was a bra and a pair of panties underneath it. A matching set. Red, no less. I've never worn red underwear in my entire life. Garden centers are some of my favorite places on this earth. You can get completely carried away when you walk down row after row of bright flowers and sparkling green leaves. Even though my living room was filled with pots of plants started in the warmth of the cottage I wasn't ready to stop there. Those were the annuals, the tomatoes and peppers and such, along with marigolds to border the vegetable patch. Marigolds are such cheerful flowers and they help keep the bugs away. When Hilda had arrived at the farm we had all crowded into my pickup. Steph and I went in search of perennials wild Hilda looked at things for a window planter at her place in town. I wanted to plant some hollyhocks along the cottage wall and find something for the small bed by the back door. The crocuses had poked their heads up not too long after the ground warmed and the tulips and daffodils were just about gone by now. I was dithering as to whether some Allium or a Hyacinth would look better when Hilda rejoined us. "Perennials, eh? You must be planning to stay for a while." "I certainly am. I just love the cottage and I don't ever want to move back to the city again. Your family certainly has created a beautiful place to live, Hilda." "Flatterer. Stephanie's in charge now, heap the sweet talk on her where it will do some good." "Aye, and is it not your own sweet self that begat the dear child that I should be thankin' for bearing her?" "Kate Hepburn yesterday, a leprechaun full of the blarney today - a quick change artist are you, Steve?" "I'm as constant as the weather in April, my dear Hilda. And I'm serious about how lovely your place is. How could you have left it for some prefab monstrosity with paper walls and rude neighbors? "That was long ago and another time, Steve. I'm happy where I am and I still have my memories. I'm pleased you are so willing to keep the place beautiful, Steph has had some terrible tenants." "So I gathered. I found some very interesting stuff in the basement. I take it some college students were there once upon a time." "And once is all the times I'll rent to anyone in college, my dear model tenant." Stephanie had found us lollygagging and joined the conversation. "Those bastards filled the rock garden with beer bottles before I threw them out." "I suppose they were empty bottles, so they didn't even contribute any nutritional value to the soil." "Not unless cigarette filters have nutritional value. I had to sieve the dirt to clean out the glass and trash." "Well, I promise to recycle my wine bottles properly." "They whined too when I threw 'em out. Actually had to have the sheriff come out and haul them away." "Remind me to pay my rent on time. You're one tough cookie." "And proud of it. Don't worry, I wouldn't throw my girlfriend out of the place." "That's a relief. Did you see anything that would climb that trellis on the back porch?" "There's some trumpet vines over that-a-way, kemo-sabe." Hilda, looking a little worn around the edges, elected to sit at one of the park benches scattered around the place ($59.95 and guaranteed not to rust or corrode) while we started off across the rows of green. "Wait a minute, how can I be your girlfriend one minute and your faithful native guide the next?" "The only thing constant in life is change, girlfriend. Get used to it." Casting a quick glance around she came up behind me and I felt her finger slip under the waistband of my pants. "How sweet, you did wear them. I love trading clothes with my girlfriends." "I'm afraid the bra didn't fit." I was back in the Twilight Zone again. Conversations with Stephanie kept going off the track somehow. "I figured it probably wouldn't but I knew you wanted to get into my panties. We'll just have to go shopping without Mother sometime soon and find one that fits you properly." "You can't be serious!" "Why not, girlfriend. You put on my panties all by yourself. You can't tell me that you don't want to be my girlfriend after doing that." "Your mother is coming. We'll talk about this later. That is if they don't have men with butterfly nets stationed at the exits who will gently lead you away to a very soft room in a nice, tranquil place." In the end we just about filled the back of my pickup with greenery. On the way here Hilda had occupied the middle seat, on the drive home I was very aware of the warmth of Stephanie's leg pressed against mine when the three of us filled the front seat of the pickup. I was also aware of the odd feeling of the nylon panties I wore. I still couldn't believe that Stephanie had actually looked into my pants to see them! I mean, up until a few days ago she was just my landlady - another person that I knew slightly. The woman who I handed a check to on the first of each month and then forgot about until another 30 days had passed. I just didn't get it. But I did like the feel of the nylon on my butt I had hardly settled into bed when my cell phone rang. It was Stephanie. It seems silly to use cell phones to talk over the short distance between the cottage and the main house, but that's what we did. We didn't talk about much of consequence, after all we had just spent the evening together. Just two friends chatting. Girlfriends, it seemed. "Steve?" she asked after the conversation had hit a bit of a lull. "Yeah?" "I'm sorry about Sunday afternoon." "Huh?" "That crack about you not being a man. I really didn't mean it that way." "Good grief! You aren't worried about that, are you? We all put our feet in our mouths sometimes." "Yeah, don't we? I just want to say how much I enjoyed spending the day with you. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I felt almost like I was spending time with one of my girlfriends." "Katherine Hepburn, right?" I was rewarded with a giggle. "No, silly. What I mean is, well, you know how it is on a date, how you are always thinking about how you look and how you come across to the other person? It wasn't like that. You felt more like an old girlfriend I could say anything to, I didn't worry about putting on a show or trying to impress you." "Uh huh?" I didn't really know what to say, so I just made an encouraging noise. "It's been a long time since I felt that way. I mean comfortable with a man near me." "I'm flattered. I really enjoyed being with you, too. I'm not going to tell you that I haven't noticed you're a woman, but you're right. There wasn't that male-female pressure on Sunday, just two friends enjoying each other's company. If that's what it takes to make you feel comfortable I'll happily put on a robe and bunny slippers any time I come visit." "You did look pretty cute in my robe." "I like you panties, too." "Really? I don't know what got into me when I gave them to you." "Just trading clothes with your girlfriend. I hear women do that all the time. I'm afraid I can't reciprocate, though. My female wardrobe is a bit thin." She laughed merrily. "Are you really going to take me shopping for a bra?" "Would you wear it if I did?" "If you let me be your girlfriend I don't see why not." "Seriously?" "Well, I don't see how a man wearing a bra can be taken seriously, but I'm willing to try it if you want me to, girlfriend." "You are an amazing man, Steve." "No, just crazy. I like you enough to see where this will take us, but you're in control. No pressure, my dear landlady. Hey - it's after midnight and I have to go to try and pound a couple of random facts into my students in the morning." "Yeah, my little darlings will be waiting for me, too, even if I'm not an exalted College Professor. Goodnight, Steve." "Adjuncts don't get to be exalted, let alone tenured. Goodnight, girlfriend." I hung up the phone. That set the pattern, every evening before we fell asleep we talked over the phone, but when I hung up the phone on Tuesday night I couldn't sleep. I tried to blame it on the nap I had inadvertently taken at about 7:00 that evening, but if I was honest I was thinking about Stephanie. To be even more honest, about being Stephanie's girlfriend. I washed out her panties the night before and left them hanging on the shower rod. I had put them on again in the morning and they felt just as good as they had the day before. My solution had been to stop by the Wal-mart on the way home and buy a package of panties. I felt like a complete ass doing it, but it wasn't that hard. I knew my size from reading the label in Stephanie's panties. She may have been thinner than me but her generous hips let us trade panties with ease. They fit me very well, and I didn't even have a problem with my male equipment - it fit in quite comfortably, thank you. Maybe by wearing nylon panties for the rest of the week I would be used to them by the weekend. But my head wouldn't settle down. I finally got up and fired up the old computer. I checked my e-mail, and bank statement, but finally I got the nerve to enter the words 'breast form' into Google, which was what I had been intending to do but was still a little nervous about. If I was going to wear a bra I didn't want to look lumpy. I still remembered my mother after she lost a breast to cancer. She was devastated at first, but when she was fitted with her new form it was miraculous how her outlook improved. There was absolutely no way to tell that only one of her breasts was the real thing when she was wearing normal clothing. She eventually had reconstructive surgery, but until then that breast form gave her the confidence to face the world again. I just hoped I could capture some of that confidence. Talk about confusing! Who would have guessed there were so many choices? Teardrops, triangles, silicone, foam, nipples (or not), color, size. If I could just find something that would work it would be a miracle! I realized I hadn't the faintest idea what size bra I would need. It was easily found, just typing 'bra size' into Google brought up half a dozen calculators. Now why do some sites tell you to add 5" to your chest measurement and others don't add anything? Crazy. TheBreastformStore.com looked pretty user friendly, so I followed their directions. The only problem was I didn't have a tape measure. I checked the odd tools in the basement but all I found was an old fashioned folding stick ruler. That wasn't going to bend around my chest. The light went on and I took one of my belts and wrapped it around my chest, then measured the belt. A size 40, which made sense since Stephanie's 36C bra was too small on me. Halfway there. So how large did I want to be? I've never been one to drool over big boobs. Sure I notice them, but they don't really make me any more interested in a woman just because they stick out halfway to the moon. Well, Stephanie filled a D cup nicely (very nicely!) but with my build and boyish hips that would be too much. The chart said that was a size 5 in the Transform Full Oval. Well - I was going to transform, so why not do it literally? I winced a little as I typed in my credit card and paid for overnight shipping. Those babies weren't cheap, but I fell asleep feeling pretty good about trying to do my best to be Steph's girlfriend. Over the next few days I planted some of the hardier greenery, but I was going to have to wait a few more weeks to be sure a late frost wouldn't shrivel all my hard work some night. Lord knows last weekend was proof of how changeable the weather could be. I waved at Steph a couple of times but we both had things to do. The relationship was developing like nothing I had known before. I had to control some definite lascivious thoughts about her when I saw her across the yard or in my fertile imagination, but during those intimate talks in the dark of night I felt very comfortable in girlfriend mode. Being a girlfriend affected me as well, I talked of things in my life that I had never before shared. My parent's death, the serenity I found in the garden, even the loss of a very lovely woman many years ago when she moved to California and I couldn't bring myself to follow her. Talking with Steph as her girlfriend was better than any shrink. Not that I had ever talked to a shrink, but you get the idea. The breast forms arrived on Thursday. I opened them up and played with them a little bit, but there wasn't much I could do without a bra to put them in. I guess I was going to have to wait for the weekend. I almost told her about them, but I wanted to save them for a surprise. "Hey ma - I got boobs!" Yeah, that was going to be a surprise. There was a knock on the door and I quickly put them back in their custom shaped holders. I was going to have to rearrange my drawers, they took a lot of room! "Hi, girlfriend" I greeted Stephanie. She was a vision in a white summer dress with angel sleeves and billowing skirt. I had no trouble picturing her relaxing in front of the plantation and sipping a mint julep. "Damn, you look stunning!" "Why thank you, girlfriend. Just put your tongue back in and remember you're my girlfriend, OK? You ready to go shopping?" "What? I thought we were going shopping tomorrow night." "You have a lot to learn, girlfriend. Shopping is in season any time. Why wait until tomorrow? If we go tonight I can invite my new girlfriend to dinner tomorrow night." "Wait a minute. Isn't it 'The way to a MAN'S heart is through his stomach'? Can you bribe a girlfriend that way, too?" "As long as she's not on a diet." "Makes sense to me. Then it's only fair I treat you to dinner tonight. Want to try the Chinese Buffet?" Brockport had gotten bigger with the new road. The little Chinese restaurant had recently expanded to a complete buffet. "Sure, why not? Come on over to the house and I'll measure you so we know what size to get." "38B for bras, large for dresses and a 10 for shoes." I responded smugly. "You are full of surprises. How did you figure that out, girlfriend?" "The Internet is the font of all knowledge. I just Googled it." "I should have known. How did you decide you were a B cup?" "Why, I have the advantage of being whatever cup size I want. Much as I would like to imitate my mentor, I don't think I could carry off a D cup as well as you do, so I decided it should be more modest" She blushed. Feeling nicely filled we left the restaurant. "So where do we go, Wal- mart?" "Only if you want to look ugly. Their buyers have lousy taste." "Oh." That was news to me, but what did I know from women's clothes? The panties I got there were perfectly fine as far as I could tell. "We start at the Fashion Bug across the street. They have a plus size department so we should be able to fit you there. It's just the place for a couple of casual outfits for a weekend in the garden and if we're lucky we'll find something you can wear to dinner. Last chance to chicken out, girlfriend." "I promised, didn't I? If you want a girlfriend then I'm you man." "That isn't quite how I'd put it, you nut." "Don't I have to be nuts to be doing this? Let's get it done before I come to my senses." "Sounds like a plan." She started off across the parking lot. "So tell me, would you prefer a solid color or a pattern on your bra?" "I hadn't really thought about it. My panties are all solid colors." She stopped. "Did you say 'your' panties? As in plural?" Then she did that one eyebrow thing again. "Well, I couldn't very well wear the one you gave me all week long, could I?" "I suppose not. You are full of surprises, girlfriend" "Just call me Kate." "I'm too refined to call you what I'm thinking, Kate. You haven't answered the question - plain or patterns." "Which do you prefer?" "Damn good thing you're my girlfriend or I might think you were being sexist, you sexist." "I may be wearing them but they're for your benefit. It's only fair you have a say in picking them out." "Funny, I've used that line with a couple of boyfriends, but I never thought I'd be on the receiving end of it." "Now who's the one not answering the question?" "I prefer patterns. I love the feeling of wearing something sexy that no one can see." "Does that mean I don't get to have a look?" "Let's leave that for another time, girlfriend. Right now it's your underwear we're concerned with. You get to be my boyfriend while we're shopping, offering me advice on what looks good. OK?" "Sounds like a good idea." I paused. "You're not worried about the gossips seeing you in the store buying intimates with your tenant offering his advice?" "I'd think you would be more worried if anyone thought the intimates were for my tenant." "Nobody here knows me - I just moved in a few months ago. If you aren't worried then neither am I." We had arrived at the store, where she took me over to the bra section. There was quite an array, far more bras than I had ever seen in one place. I had no trouble looking like the nervous boyfriend waiting in a place that made him uncomfortable. In my foray for panties I had been able to find a six pack prominently displayed and drop them in my cart without spending any more time there than necessary. Now I was expected to actively help in narrowing down the choice for my new bras. "What do you think of this one?" Stephanie asked. "I like leopard spots. It's not an endangered species, is it? What are the wires for?" "To strangle little boys who ask too many questions. They're to help keep your tits separate and perky." "Imagine that, perky tits. Sounds like something you'd find in a Men's Magazine." "You're impossible! Do you like it?" "Sure, put it in the basket. I like that one with the blue lace, too." "Your wish is my command, oh Master of Fashion. Will two be enough?" "It depends on what you have in mind for the weekend, darling." "Who says it's only for the weekend. You never can tell." That was an interesting bit of news. "Maybe you'd better get one of those pink striped ones too, just in case." "And one in plain white. A girl always needs a plain white bra on hand." "I didn't think you put bras on your hands." "If I hadn't already told you that you were impossible, I'd tell you that you were impossible." "I love it when you sweet talk me, darling. Do we look at the dresses for dinner or the casual outfits for gardening first?" "The dresses are closer. Perhaps you would like to help me pick one out." "I'd be delighted. Lead on, MacDuff." The last time I had been in the women's section of a store was as a child waiting for my mother to browse through the racks. Back then it was a lot more fun to hide in the center of those round racks and play peek-a-boo or run through the aisles until my mother was completely exasperated. We didn't spend long looking at the dresses, they were all far more formal than what we wanted. Long sleeved jackets and sequins; female tuxedos, it looked like. When we got to the casual section I was struck by something. "Stephanie, how come this is a women's clothing store and they don't seem to have any skirts?" "You want to take a look out the window and see how many of the next 10 women to pass by are wearing skirts? I think that might answer your question." "I never thought of that." "That's not surprising, most men wouldn't have even noticed." "Well, not unless we were trying to look up a skirt. It's ever so much more rewarding than looking up a pair of pants." "Sexist pig!" "Oink! Really, if I'm going to do this what good is wearing another pair of pants?" "I suppose that does seem a bit foolish, now that I think of it. Don't worry, there's a Dot's not too far away, they should have a skirt or two to meet your approval. What do you think of this?" She held a blue T-shirt with a scalloped neckline and an embroidered flower across the bodice against her body as if she were gauging it for size. "Well, it fits the gardening theme. Kind of cute, I guess." "The blue bra would go well under it." "If you say so." "I do. Anything else that catches your eye?" "Not really. It all seems kind of - plain." "The word is 'casual'. We're not after high fashion here, we want something you can garden in. You know, dirt, water, horse shit. That sort of thing." "How romantic. Can we get some deodorized cow manure before we fill any more pots?" "One thing at a time. I'll let you check out Dot's before we get anything else." Do you know how much it cost me to get out of that store? This crazy idea had better last more than one weekend, I had to get some return on my investment. Besides, I had to carry all the bags. Some girlfriend. I could hardly wait to put on that bra! Now Dot's was more what I expected a women's store to be like. Lots of skirts and blouses and bright colors. I wandered along behind Steph until she stopped at a rack of skirts. "We need something a bit shorter for gardening, You don't want to be tripping over your hem with a full pot. Besides, kneeling down in a long skirt is a real pain!." "If you want short, how about this?" I asked as I took a pretty red and black checked skirt from the rack. "I'd say it was short enough, wouldn't you?" "If I were 20 years younger and wanted the world to see what I don't want to be seen. I had in mind something knee length, not crotch length." "You said you wanted short. I was just trying to be helpful." By then she had found a crinkly green thing. "What do you think?" "It's OK. This must be the top that goes with it." "It is, but don't you think that neckline is a little revealing for gardening? Think of the sunburn potential." "Oh, yeah." I suppose since I wasn't going to have any cleavage I couldn't wear something with a plunging neckline. I never had to think of this kind of stuff when I went clothes shopping. "So what else would go with that skirt?" "A blue or yellow would work, but we already have a blue top. Or even something with a pattern. Something like that." She pointed. "A little fancy for gardening, but why not?" 'That' was a pale yellow blouse with a tiger lily print. The material was light and gauzy, but it had an inner layer that made it not quite so revealing. But it was still so undeniably feminine it brought me to a halt. OK, a bra is undeniably feminine, but unless they're trying to be provocative most women don't go around showing their bras to the world. For that matter I had been wearing panties all week and nobody had the slightest idea except Stephanie. The T-shirt we just bought was clearly made for a woman but it was still a T-shirt. I wore T-shirts all the time, not so different, was it? But that blouse was soft and sexy and there was no way I had ever worn anything like it. It was at that moment that the 'girlfriend' business crystallized, that I really understood what I had gotten in to. Was I ready to abandon a lifetime of being a man so easily? My father would have had apoplexy if he could see me at this moment, for him men were men and that was it - no questions need be asked. I hadn't precisely asked any forbidden questions, but I had never been sure of the answers, either. Suddenly I had to find the answer. And quickly! Then, just as suddenly as the doubt had flared the answer came to me. I wasn't abandoning anything. I was taking a weekend vacation into an unknown land - a land of femininity. I was doing something to make a friend happy, and just maybe doing something that would make my life better. We all fear the unknown, but at one time or another in our lives EVERYTHING is unknown. This was just one more way of learning more about life. There could be no shame in learning. "I like it, makes quite a statement, doesn't it?" I answered at last. A definitive statement, at that. "You're getting quite the eye for fashion. Oh, look! This denim jumper would be perfect with the blue shirt, wouldn't it?" "I think so." "I know so. Come over here a minute." I came. In the relative obscurity between the clothing racks she once again pulled back my waistband and checked out my underwear. "Don't be mad. I just had to know. I think it's cute, really I do." Then more loudly, "We need something a bit fancy for dinner tomorrow. Can you reach up there and get that one down?" "Sexist, you're as tall as me." "But you have longer arms." "Don't try to confuse me with facts." I shook the dress off the high hanger. It had a square neckline and padded shoulders. Why did women insist on making themselves look like quarterbacks? Well, I could always remove them, I had pre-padded shoulders and wouldn't need them. The dress looked to be tight about the bust line and then continued straight down from there. A perfect style to take the eye off my lack of wide hips. Stephanie held it up to her neck and the hem came about to mid calf on her, so it would do the same for me. I had seen dresses like this on innumerable women at nice restaurants, it certainly would be appropriate for a dinner party. Its brown tones would even go nicely with my coppery hair. I was really getting into this, wasn't I? They didn't quite throw us out of the store, but the ladies at the counter clearly wanted to go home by the time we were done. While I was standing at the register Stephanie told the cashier to wait a minute and darted back to the wall. She placed a rose colored nightgown on the counter. "A girl can never tell when she might want a nightgown if she's invited to a sleepover." Was her only comment. My unvoiced comment shifted from "ouch" when thinking of the bill to "Hmmmm..." As we got into the car for the trip home, Steph turned to me and asked, "I didn't scare you off or anything, did I?" "No, I'm still with you. I had a moment there when this whole thing seemed just too surreal for words, but I think I'm over it." "That blouse was what did it, wasn't it? You got lost in space for a moment there." "Too right. I'm OK now and as of the time I hit the driveway I'm going to be your girlfriend and nothing else. I'm all yours." "That's..." she paused. "That's very nice of you, Steve. It's a lot to ask of you." "You're worth it, Steph. It may be a little strange, but I think it could be something wonderful for the both of us as long as we don't try too hard." "I hope you're right. I ..." she trailed off. I waited until she was ready to speak again. "I haven't let anyone get close to me for a long time, Steve." "I know." More silence as the road rolled beneath the tires. We were home all too quickly. We unloaded the night's purchases from the trunk, piling them on my sofa. "See you tomorrow, Kate." She kissed me and left. It wasn't a peck on the cheek this time, either. Just like it had for the last few days, my cell phone rang at 11:15PM. "Hello, my Mistress." "Kate? Is that you?" "Yes, my Mistress." "Stop with the Mistress crap! Are you out of your mind?" "Considering how we're planning to spend the weekend that is a distinct possibility, or was that a rhetorical question? You know what, Steph?" "I hesitate to ask, but - What?" "I just found out we're going about this crossdressing business the wrong way." "I didn't know there was a right way. Did I miss the instruction manual or something?" "The instructions are all online. I've just been on the net the last couple of nights trying to learn a little bit about it. From what I see the proper way to do this is for you to force me into a cheerleader's costume or make me look like a whore, then drag me around by a silver chain and humiliate me in public. When we went shopping tonight you were supposed to make it clear to everybody in the store that you were getting those clothes for me, maybe even make me try on something sexy so they all could see me do it while I abjectly cringed and simpered, a slave to your demands." "That's sick! I'm going to have to show you how to set the filters on your browser. There is no way I would ever humiliate you, Kate. Not ever." "I know that, Steph, but you wouldn't believe the crap that I found out there. "Hey - I own a computer, too. I believe it!" "It certainly was enlightening. I almost feel like I'm missing out on something. The way they describe every minute step in forcing a man to look like a woman is absolutely incredible. My friends in the psych department at the college would have a field day with the stuff I found." "They really write about being forced to dress up a women? Guilt avoidance, pure and simple. They damn well want to get dressed up and won't take responsibility for their own actions. I sure don't need any more of that crap in my life." "Well, you won't get it from me, I'm in this voluntarily. Then there's the other extreme - the guys out there who claim they were insanely ecstatic from the first second they put on a pair of panties. Half of them seem to have cum before the elastic settled, then turned themselves into beautiful women and gone out to a bar and screwed anyone who stood still long enough, man or woman or somewhere in- between." "What about the other half? I don't think I need to know any details about the others, thank you." "Oh - those are the sane ones who have a good time dressing up like women and have real relationships with their wives and girlfriends. Not all of them are lucky enough to have a woman in their lives who understands them, but some of them do. I found the right discussion board after we got home tonight; this crossdressing thing has a nice side to it. I was starting to wonder for a while." "Then why did you come shopping with me tonight? If all you found was so... so unhealthy..." "Because you wanted me to go and with you there is no way you would turn our friendship into something sick. I trust you, Stephanie." "Kate I... You're so kind I..." "That's what girlfriends are for. I like being your girlfriend, I really do. If you want to know, I knew the porn stuff couldn't be all there was to crossdressing because of how I've felt this last week. I thoroughly enjoyed hanging out with you last weekend. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Stephanie, but I can and do appreciate you as a man appreciates a woman and I'll admit to my girlfriend I did have thoughts about getting you into bed with me. I still do when I'm not thinking of you as my girlfriend." "But that's just it. Being your girlfriend is a lot more important to me than getting you in bed. I treasure your trust and friendship, I've never had anything like it before in my life. Wearing your robe was the first step away from confining our relationship to the 'me Man - you Slave' crap that most men and women have. When you gave me your panties and bra it seemed to be a gift of your spirit, something intimate between souls, not a come-on from a woman to a man. Wearing your panties wasn't sexual at all, it was comforting and reminded me of the pleasure your company brings me." "I like getting to know you without all the baggage of the man-woman thing. When you call me Kate I don't have to worry about what Steve would think or do, I can explore just how Kate and Stephanie are going to do things. It's all new. I want you to teach me how to be your girlfriend, how to be a whole person who treasures friendship for the closeness it can bring. The clothes are part of the learning, a way to break free from the way I always did things before." "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't care what anybody else thinks or what drives any other man to wear women's clothes. I don't care what anyone but you thinks about me wearing women's clothes. I'm not going to start a campaign to get any other man to wear a bra but I kind of like the feeling, even if I've only been wearing one for a couple of hours." "You're going to make me cry, Kate." "Then you can teach me how to cry, I haven't had much practice." "Count your blessings, I've had far more practice than I need. But this kind of crying is the happy kind. That can be the hardest kind to learn." "We can teach each other. What else did we go into education for?" "Sure isn't the money." "Yeah, but us professor types get Fridays off. There aren't many college students that want to take a Friday class. I'll have all day to get ready for you. Am I supposed to primp my hair?" "Don't you dare, girlfriend! I want to be there to show you how to do it. Just pack your clothes in a suitcase so I can spend the weekend with my new girlfriend." "Is that an invitation?" "Strictly for my girlfriend Kate. Steve can take the weekend somewhere else. Is that all right? "I think so. I'll be a good girl if you help me." "You're halfway there already, Kate.' "Well, maybe. I suspect there's a lot more to it than just putting on the clothes." "I can hardly wait to see you try to put on a pair of pantyhose. I'm looking forward to seeing that." "I don't have any pantyhose to put on." "Damn! I forgot all about them tonight. You better pick up a pair tomorrow morning. I bet you've never shaved your legs before." "I'll not be takin' that bet, me sweet Colleen, or I'd be losin' all me faery gold from the pot at the end of the Rainbow. That would fair piss off the leprechaun