If I Told You, Part 1 free porn video

I. Several people over the last couple of years have urged me to set some of this down. I'm still not sure that this is the best way to go about this, but if I don't put something down now, I'm bound to forget some of it and important details might get lost. Even now there is so much about it that really beggars the imagination. I'm going to try to set some of this down in the computer for two reasons: maybe somebody will read this and think that maybe I'm not so crazy after all and it will help me, I hope, to keep some of these events from getting all confused in my mind. Looking back on the last four years, I would never have guessed I'd be doing what I'm doing. If you'd suggested it to me, I would have laughed in your face. Let me go back. If at some point I have to add even older things I will, so don't expect this to be a "beginning-middle-end" kind of story. Read this and take your chances. New Springfield is where I landed up in my later twenties. College had been O.K. Business School and later Law School were... Well, I won't say they were disasters, but...and I did learn a lot. Among the things I learned is that I didn't want to be a lawyer, much less a corporate type. I also learned that student loans do have to be repaid so getting -- and keeping -- a decent job was an imperative. So there I was managing a bookstore that a friend of mine, Penny Thomas, owned. The Owl & The Pussycat had started out with children's books, as you might have guessed, but we had long since branched out into general stuff from novels to new age. Penny, actually an old college roommate of my mother's, was great. She always had interesting, creative ideas and an appreciation that if they were not supported by good business ideas they wouldn't go anywhere. She had been married to Jack Thomas, the local real estate/county commissioner/sometime entrepreneur. Although their marriage ended more than ten years before, they remained the greatest of friends. I was Penny's business manager/bookkeeper you name it. Things seemed to be on a good course. Of course, my Mom had died the previous year and Dad...well, my Dad was still there. To say that he was a shell of his former self was putting it mildly. Mom had been his life. Nursing her at the last had taken it all out of him and now his own cancer had come back with a vengeance. He had lost the will to fight it and was counting the days until the end. Mary, my sister, was five hundred miles away and made that journey numerous times so that it wouldn't all fall on me. We became a lot closer which leads to another part of this story. But I'll be getting to that soon enough. As I was trying to say, even with my family thing weighing on me, my life was pretty settled for the moment. I know what you're going to say. "Just as soon as you think things are settled, they have a way of becoming very unsettled." You don't know the half of it! Tony Di Angelo ran a local photo studio and marginally successful advertising business a few doors down the street from The Owl & The Pussycat. We'd often gotten together for coffee or a late meal after work, even double dated on occasion. So I wasn't too surprised to get a call from Tony on my cell phone asking me for a favor. I took the call in the little office which meant that Penny heard at least my side of it. "Hey, Danny, I need to ask you a favor," Tony began, sounding a little hesitant. "Sure, Tony, whatever you want, man, just ask," I said. "Well, it's not so simple. Would you mind coming over for about a half an hour, forty minutes on the outside?" "Not a problem. I'll ask Penny just to be sure," I said and looking in her direction I saw her nod and wave me out of the store. It was surprisingly chilly for this bright Indian Summer day in mid October. A little breeze had picked up and was blowing the few leaves that had fallen in little eddies along the sidewalk. It was in weather like this that I began to really feel the cold. When you're 5' 8" and 145 lbs. there's not a lot of insulation to protect you from the cold. I nearly ran down the fifty or so yards to Di Angelo & Associates, Tony's grandly named shop. He was waiting at the door, eagerly anticipating my arrival. "Danny, hey, that's great, man, thanks a lot." He was almost breathless. I was a little surprised. He took me by the elbow and led me back to his studio that took up almost three fourths of his shop. Tony proceeded to show me the layout for a new advertising campaign he was putting together for a small winery. The winery, Eagle Crest, was just launching its low priced- high quality 'Vintner's Reserve Cabernet', and they were really depending on Tony's ad campaign to put them on the map. It was all very impressive, but my quizzical expression must have told him I was unsure where Tony was leading. He had talked to me about this ad campaign on several occasions and, no, I hadn't seen the final mock- ups and a few other details, but surely this was not the reason he wanted me to do him a favor. He seemed nearly finished and it seemed the right time to interrupt him. "Tony, this is all well and good, but you called me over here to ask me a favor, can you tell me what you want me to do for you?" "Well, I might as well get to the point. The model I hired for this advertising shoot has backed out on me and my proposal is due in two days. It'll take me most of that time in developing the pictures and completing the layout. Frankly, Danny, I need you to take that model's place. This is going to sound weird, I know, but I need you to pose as a woman." I almost laughed in his face, I was so taken aback. "You've got to be kidding. I look about as much like a woman as a football linebacker. I mean there are hundreds of women in this town you could ask to do this. Why me?" "That's just it, Danny, if I'm going to get this proposal in on time. I have to do the photo shoot this afternoon. I don't have time to look for a woman to be my model. And besides, Denise, my assistant, said she thought you had the right body type. Listen, if you could see your way clear to do this for me it would be a tremendous help. And I had budgeted two hundred dollars for the model; of course, that's what I'll pay you." I still thought it was wacky until Tony explained his idea to me. By know I'm sure you've seen the picture. It's been in a hundred magazines and plastered on the sides of city busses from Seattle to Miami. You know the one I mean. You see the model facing away from the camera; she's wearing a black strapless evening gown and all you see of her is her left shoulder and the side of her face as she seems to be looking toward the left of the picture. She's holding a long-stemmed rose in her left hand which is covered by an opera glove that goes past her elbow. The rest of the picture shows a table with a glass of wine and a bottle of Eagle Crest Vintner's Reserve Cabernet, beyond that colorful California houses leading down to an impossibly blue Monterey Bay. There's some text at the bottom about wine and romance and blah, blah, blah. You probably guessed that Tony got the contract and it was the job that enabled his fledgling advertising agency to really take off. What you didn't know was that I was the woman in the picture. Denise had gotten me into the dress, made up my face, dangled a rhinestone earring in place of my little plain hoop, and placed a brunette wig cut in a chin length pageboy on my head. Before I say something stupid like, "the rest is history," I've got to say that my first modeling experience was not an endless parade of luxury and glamorous clothes, to say the least. The initial session wasn't so bad and I was sure that after helping Tony out that fateful afternoon, that would be the end of it. How wrong I was. There were a couple of tense weeks that followed before Tony heard the good news that his proposal had been accepted. The winery account was his. They were so impressed with his work that they were asking for a whole series that would be based on the original layout, "and with that gorgeous model in every picture, of course; that goes without saying." Tony was more than a little sheepish when he told me the good news. "Danny, this is the kind of account that I have been dreaming of. Don't get me wrong, writing ads for the local real estate company and the car dealerships does help pay the bills, but this may be my ticket to a much bigger world." "That's great, Tony. Now you have the time to hire a real model and I'm off the hook." "Danny, that's just it. The Eagle Crest people are insisting that the same model appear in all their ads. They were intrigued by 'her'. 'She' projects the kind of image that they think will really help sell their wines." "Aw, c'mon, you really don't need me. Just tell them that your real model had a cold that day and a friend stepped in to substitute for her." "Hey, I don't want to make this any more difficult than it has to be, but I'll tell you that I told them all that and more. I tried everything I could think of, but they were adamant. Either you are in the ads, or they will search for another ad agency. I don't want to sound melodramatic, but without you, I lose the account." Hearing all this, Penny Thomas, my boss was in near hysterics. "I'm not getting between the two of you over this, but Danny, what are they seeing? Your left shoulder and a bit of hair. It seems very little for the compensation that Tony is offering you. Besides he's a real friend; I seem to remember Tony pinch-hitting for you when you were trying to break it off with Carol. Hm. Think of it as a lark; play along with it. Everybody loves a masquerade and you have the chance to profit from it." 'Oh, well,' I thought, 'nothing ventured, nothing gained.' "Tony, I may regret this," the hesitation in my voice unmistakable, "but I'll give it a try." "Danny, you're the best," Tony said, grinning. The three of us closed up The Owl and The Pussycat and went to the neighborhood restaurant for a celebratory drink. For the next couple of weeks, I had a hundred chances to mull over my decision to help Tony out. More than once I contemplated taking the first bus out of there to escape the absurdity of it all. But, I reasoned, think of that money and getting a chance to help Dad out with some of the bills, let alone those dreaded college loans. And what will the Owl & The Pussycat, running back and forth to spend as much time as I could with Dad at the hospice, I really didn't get too upset about the whole thing. In fact, it's funny in retrospect, in one of the last conversations I ever had with my dad, I told him about the cockamamie scheme of Tony's that had landed me in my present predicament. Even in his pain, Dad was able to get a good laugh out of it. So much so that on our succeeding visits, he greeted me as "Dani, my modeling daughter." This was all great confusing fun to the hospice people who knew that Dad had a daughter and a son, neither of whom was a model. He loved doing that: coming up with an off-the-wall look at things like that. It didn't bother him that some people didn't quite catch the humor of it; he still got a kick out of it. I'm still not sure that this last great laugh of ours may have been a pleasant distraction during Dad's last days, but he seemed to enjoy it, so who was I to say. Dad died at the end of that November, and although I knew his death was imminent, it still hit me like a ton of bricks. Penny was great. "Take all the time you need, Danny. It's times like this that you've got to go easy on yourself. Remember, you've got nothing to prove with me. You'll never regret the time you got to spend with your dad. Sure, watching someone you love go through all that pain and torment is no picnic, but remember your being there was a great help to him. And from everything I knew about him and all that you've told me, he wanted you to be happy and fulfilled in what you do. So, in an odd sense I suppose, you could think of all this," she indicated the bookstore with a wave of her hand, "and the modeling, too, as a tribute to him. However all this turns out you know he's getting a good laugh out of it." Her big hug was a little unexpected, but very much appreciated. For the next week after the funeral and all the relatives and friends had gone, my sister and I began the task of disposing of Dad's stuff. It was really both of theirs, Mom's and Dad's, since he had kept things pretty much as they had been. Even looking at the house and its contents brought back floods of memories for both of us. For the first day we didn't make very much progress. There were too many discoveries that led to too many tears shed. "This is getting ridiculous," Mary said, plopping herself down in Mom's chintz-covered rocker. "We've got to make a plan, Danny, or we'll never get through this." She was right, of course. Finally after a couple of days of hard work we'd divided things into those family things we would divide between us, the rest we were giving to a local charity and we'd put the house up for sale. Any of you who've had to go through this will know that it's a kind of drudgery far more exhausting than the work itself. It's so emotionally draining. In our case there were, happily no real points of contention. Nevertheless, I did heave a sigh of relief when I put Mary back on a plane and tried to get my life in order. Yes, the Owl & The Pussycat was still standing and seeming to do just fine in my absence. It had been ten days, but it felt more like ten years. Penny, true to form, was great, welcoming me with open arms. I don't think I was back more than two days when I got a call from Tony. "Danny, I wanted to give you a little time. What with your Dad and all. There's a deadline coming up the end of the month. I could ask for an extension, but I'd rather not unless I have to. What do you say; are you up for a little studio work?" One part of me wanted nothing to do with Tony and the crazy modeling thing, but another part of me secretly looked forward to it. "I don't know, Tony," I began, "it seems a little soon." "Look, Danny, we don't have to rush things. Give it a day or two and come on over and see me." I really appreciated Tony's flexibility. It was later that day, I think, that Penny took me home to her house to dinner. "Danny, I don't know what's going through your mind, especially I don't know what's going through your mind regarding the modeling for Tony, but I think I may have an idea." Just the way she said it put me on the defensive. "What do you mean, Penny?" I tried to keep my voice as even as possible. "Now, Danny, don't get your hackles up. I'm just trying to look at this as your friend. I hope you do consider me as a friend and not just your employer or a friend of your mother's." "I'm sorry, Penny, I guess I'm still kind of sensitive about all this." "Listen, Danny," she continued as we put the pasta and salad on the table, "most guys, at least the ones I know, would've run screaming from the prospect of putting on a dress, especially if they were going to be photographed. You've made it clear that you're not wild about it, but, at the same time, from what I've seen and what the few people who know about have said, you have something about you, that, well," she paused for a moment as if she knew that what she was about to say would not go down very well with me. "Look, what they've said is, that you're something of a natural." I started to object, but Penny held up her hand. "Danny, think of this as a compliment and not an assault on your manhood. Remember, you don't have to prove anything to me. Just because you've been willing to try this and have gone about it with a right good will, tells me that you're a better man than most of the guys I know. Good heavens, (Penny was fond of expressions like that and we always teased her about it.) It's so refreshing not to see you having to prove your masculinity every five minutes, to me, to every other man or to Billie and Sarah (my co-workers at the bookstore)." I had to admit I was flattered by what Penny was saying and I started to respond, but there was more she was going to say. "It's really very attractive to us, to women, and I think I can speak for other women besides myself, when a man stops trying to be some, some caricature of manhood. You know what I mean? You only have to look at television and movies. I mean, really, do they think that women find that attractive? I suppose some do, but even if a man were like that, even these women who find that attractive, would tire of it pretty quickly. You, on the other hand, aren't so, so afraid, I guess. No, that's not quite right. It's that you don't seem incapacitated by the things that frighten you or make you uncomfortable." I thought for a moment, trying to figure out what I was going to say. The things that Penny had said were complimentary, but did what she say make me sound like some sort of wimp? Much as I tried to think up objections to what she had said about me, I realized that she was pretty close to the mark. "Don't respond to what I've said," Penny began, "just for the sake of responding. But I'd be very interested in what you think and how you feel." We ate for a few more minutes. The only things we said were about the food we were eating. I'd passed up her offer of a glass of wine. I was already so tired that I was sure it would knock me out. Even in college I'd never been much of a drinker. No, it wasn't that I was a teetotaler or anything like that it was just, well getting even a little drunk, much less wasted, never seemed like a good time to me. I guess it was because I never had a great tolerance for booze or wine. Maybe it was because I was so tired or so emotionally drained over Dad's death, the funeral and all. But I didn't feel that I needed to put up some kind of defense to the things that Penny had been saying about me. Maybe, just maybe those things she was talking about had contributed to the fact that I had never been very successful in relationships. Oh, I'd had two, I guess, in college, and one since, but they'd never really gone anywhere. Who knows, maybe if I'd been more of the Bruce Willis type...? I rejected that idea even as it was forming in my brain. We were sitting in Penny's living room having dessert and tea when I tried to respond to the things she had said. "Penny, I could feel myself getting all defensive as you were talking before. And I didn't like that feeling. As you went on, I realized that what you were saying was right on the money. I didn't know that I was that transparent." I smiled weakly. She started to answer, but now it was my turn to hold up my hand. I could see her lips forming the word "touch?" without actually saying it. "There's no point in going on with this conversation unless I can be honest with you, and in fact be honest with myself." She nodded. "I do consider you a friend." She smiled and I continued, "And because you are I feel like I can talk to you about this, and I want to. Getting all dolled up in Tony's studio, the dress, the make-up the wig and everything, well something happened. It really caught me off guard. If I told you that I didn't expect it, that would be an understatement. It's something that I still don't know what it means. You know, in my psychology class we talked about 'processing' a fact, and event, or a feeling, but I'm nowhere near processing it. I have no idea what to do with it. Here's the thing, Penny, when I put on that dress and all the rest of it. Please try to understand me, it didn't feel all that strange to me. There was something, I really don't know how to say this, that really resonated with me. Now, remember, I had never had a dress on before. No trunks of grandmother's clothes to try on with my sister, no Halloween costume or fraternity masquerade. Nothing. But here I was in Tony's studio, and I felt, now this is going to sound weird, that this was natural. It doesn't make any sense." Penny was listening intently and didn't say anything right away. That made me a little nervous. Before she began to speak there was this, I don't know, incredibly gentle smile on her face. Not patronizing, not condescending, nothing of 'I told you so,' about it. It was very comforting. More like she was confiding something really important. Not like gossip, but something that was going to be very real and very important, but not in an earth-shattering sort of way. More like some really important thing you want to tell somebody, but the circumstances have to be just right. "Danny, you are a remarkable person. I remember thinking that when you were about twelve or thirteen which was the last time I saw you before you came to work with us at the Owl & The Pussycat. It was something about you that I couldn't put my finger on, but I remember being struck by it. Your mother and I talked about it once on the telephone. She agreed that you were a special child, but it wasn't in the way that every mother thinks her child is special. This was a little different. I remember she said something about you having a gentleness at the center of you. She really liked that, but worried a little that it would make you more vulnerable. Well, you know what your Mother was like: very perceptive as usual. I remember that we agreed also that it was a very 'winning' quality. Yes, I remember that was the word she used, 'winning'. It's still a good word to describe you, Danny, more than fifteen years later. It's that special quality you have. Now I'm going to use the word feminine, and I know that a lot of men are frightened of that word. Oh, they say they like their women that way, but they never want to hear that word applied to themselves. In your case there is something feminine about you, not in the sense that you are swishy or campy or anything like that. Those are more caricatures of femininity. You've got a special feminine quality that's a perfect compliment to your 'manly' traits. To me, at least, it's not surprising that you felt something when you got all dressed up. Right after you were photographed that day I remember talking with Tony and Denise when I stopped by his shop on the way home from work. Denise remarked to me that there was a naturalness to you that she saw that even many women don't possess. You just absolutely were that woman in the photograph. She couldn't get over it. I mean she started out saying what a good sport you were about the whole thing, but it quickly became evident that there was a whole lot more to it than that." This whole evening was a revelation to me. I don't honestly remember what I said after that or how the evening ended. Sometime later I was driving back to my place in a state of confusion, yes, but a kind of happy confusion if that doesn't sound too much like a contradiction in terms. I was confused about my feelings, but somehow a little excited at the same time. You wouldn't be surprised if I told you that I didn't sleep very well that night. The dreams that I did have were disjointed to say the least. There were cameras and lights and women in beautiful dresses. Somehow I was all a part of it. It must have been in the early hours of the morning between bouts of that fitful slumber when I found myself thinking. I looked at the clock and it was 1:30am. 12:30 outside Chicago where my sister Mary lived. She was a night owl that much I knew. As I dialed her number I prayed that she wouldn't mind my calling her at this hour. "Danny, Danny, is that you?" she answered to my mumbled hello. "Yeah, Mary I'm really sorry for calling you this late, but there's something on my mind." "Is it about Dad?" she offered. "No, not that. Do you remember when you were here I was starting to tell you about the advertising campaign that Tony Di Angelo was doing?" "Yes, Danny." She hesitated. "Well," I started, clearing my throat, "you see the campaign was about that wine; you know, that vintner's reserve?" "Yeah I remember," Mary said. "You know that picture you see of that model with the rose in her hand," I continued, "well, Mary, that model is me. You see Tony's model had called in sick that day..." Then I proceeded to tell her the whole story up to the part where Tony got me to agree to be in the future ads. I also told her about dinner with Penny and what she had said. There was silence on her end of the line. A thousand thoughts were running through my mind as I waited to hear what Mary would have to say. "Danny, I'm glad you told me about this. I really don't know what to say. It's great that you felt comfortable with me to tell me all this, but my own feelings are all over the place. As I was listening to you I was going back and forth; first I wanted to be as supportive as possible and then I was recoiling from the information: 'my brother in a dress, what's that about?' You're being really honest with me, Danny, and I want to be careful about what I say." She and I went over every aspect of the whole thing. We must have talked for an hour and a half. Except for the business of settling the family house and our common interests in our parents and their final years, Mary and I hadn't spoken like this in longer than I could remember. As I listened to her speaking, I thought to myself that I was fortunate to have such a wonderful person as my sister. During the conversation she had plenty of opportunities to ridicule me or make me feel less of a person because I was even considering the modeling. She never once made fun of me. Twice, first with Penny and now with Mary, I was able to open up my inmost feelings and neither woman had attacked me for it. It's amazing but as a boy and a young man I'd been conditioned that you keep your feelings, especially your most important feelings to yourself. I wouldn't dream of discussing such things with another man. God only knows what a guy would have thought of me. Here I was really talking to two different women and opening my heart to them. For their part Penny and Mary listened carefully and thoughtfully and offered their opinions only when I asked for them. Finally I thanked Mary and apologized again for talking well into the night when we both had to get up the next day and go to work. I hadn't resolved anything just then, but I promised Mary that I would tell her when I did. I hung up the phone and fell back on the pillow and did something I hadn't done since I was a small child. I cried. Some people, men as well as women, cry readily. Not me. It takes an awful lot before my tears start. And when I do it's no more than a tear or two even when Mom and Dad died. I hadn't cried like I did that night since I don't know when. Tears of relief, sadness, joy, fear? Who knows? I just cried. And I didn't berate myself for crying either. That was a first. It used to be that I would tell myself things like 'stiff upper lip', and 'boys don't cry' and other such foolishness. Not that night. Maybe it was fifteen minutes, twenty at the most, and then it was over. Then I slept the sleep of the just, the truly refreshing sleep that makes you feel really good the next day. And I did feel good. Instead of driving I took my bike to work and even though it was a cold December morning, the sun was out and the wind wasn't too bad. In New Springfield there was no traffic. It took me just a few more minutes than if I had driven, but I was glad for the exercise. Penny came in a few minutes later, her eyes searching my face. She brightened at once. "Well, look's like someone feels pretty good about themselves this morning!" I grinned sheepishly back at her. It was the silliest thing, but I could feel myself blushing. Penny's look softened immediately. "Penny, I can't thank you enough for last night." "Danny, don't say another word. It's I who should be thanking you. You took me into your confidence and really, you paid me the highest compliment. When was the last time a young, attractive person paid the slightest attention to what this old woman thinks," she offered in mock self-pity. "Penny, you are many things, but an old woman is not one of them. After I got home I called Mary and between the two of you I got the best doses of love and advice a person could hope for." Penny hugged me again. These hugs were coming more often and I had to confess I really liked them. "What you said about me has got me all jumbled up, but it's turned what I thought about myself completely upside down. After I got home I couldn't stop thinking about it, but after talking to and then to Mary, I resolved that I'm going to take this one step at a time and see what happens. Che ser?, ser?, as they say: whatever will be, will be." "That's the spirit, Danny," Peggy was grinning herself now. "There's only one thing, dear," she said, her voice almost dropping to a whisper, "do you think I could see what you look like the next time Tony photographs you?" Now it was my turn, "Oh, Peggy, you're my big sister, best friend, and favorite aunt all rolled into one, of course you can. But you musn't laugh." "Of that you may be sure," she said, doing her best imitation of a grande dame.