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Terry and Robert A Note At The Beginning: This is a love story. It is also a true story or as true as memory allows. Because it is true it involves disappointment and pain, but also discovery, affirmation and joy. It is confused and open ended, and yet provides closure. As with many love stories it starts with anger. Chapter 1: The Passes I was furious. I was beyond furious. I had stormed off leaving my best friend Robert alone on the street and taken the subway back to my apartment in Brooklyn. I was speechless with anger when I got on the A train and was shaking with anger when I got off the R. But when I closed the door of my third floor walkup I started to shout. I slammed furniture, cursed Robert and the rest of the world and finally ended up sitting by the window and crying. I felt betrayed because Robert had made another pass at me, which he had promised he would not do. I knew Robert was gay, he made little attempt to hide it, and he had made passes before. Each time I grew more upset and finally we had a real argument and he promised, he really promised. It had started differently of course. I was a 26 year old trying to make it as an entrepreneur in the world of photo restoration and computer graphics. Four years out of college I had managed to establish myself well enough that I was not starving and was paying my bills, but that was about all. My one luxury was belonging to a gym with an excellent racquet ball league. Even though I was one of the smallest members and did not look athletic I was to be found in the middle of the A board and considered an excellent player. It was in early April of 2002 that I went to the Morrell Group offices in Manhattan to deliver a project they had hired me for. While moving furniture some one had knocked a photo of Mr. James Morrell and his sons off the board room wall and the photo had been torn. There was no negative available and now their prized photograph from 1893 was damaged. So there was I, Terrance Kern, to the rescue! I scanned the picture and loaded the image into my MAC; I cleaned it, sharpened it, fixed the fading and made the torn pieces whole again. Then a print shop made a small and large copy and I was back within the week to drop off the product and collect my check. I was flirting a bit with the receptionist when a man walked in. He was a bit older then me and as different from me as can be imagined. I'm 5'7" if I stand very straight, and about 135 pounds. My hair is jet black and traces of Native American can be detected in my cheek bones, nose and scant beard. The man was about 6'2," sandy blond hair and had the look of the athlete who was a bit out of condition. He announced himself to the receptionist. "Hi, could you let Mr. Miller know that Robert Stance is here?" Then he looked at the gym bag I had with me, noticed the racquet sticking out and asked if I played racquet ball. I resisted the snide comments such as "no I carry it to swat flies" and we started talking. By the time he was called in for his appointment we had exchanged numbers and agreed to a match. A few days later we met at his club and I beat him 15-9 and 15-11. He took it in good grace and suggested that perhaps we could try tennis next time. We drank juice together at the snack bar, argued about the Mets and the Yankees and agreed to meet for drinks the next evening. I was innocent of course. To me this was two men who enjoyed sports, were single, liked baseball and were out to have a good time. To him it was the beginning of a courtship. I was fascinated by Robert. The Dot Com bubble was starting to burst and Robert had formed a company to purchase the assets and names of the dying companies and resell them. His business, like mine, was just starting to break even but it was unlike mine in some big ways. Robert had three employees. His company offered benefits and Robert drew a very good salary. At 26 I was surviving, at 31 he was prospering. We went to a baseball game, he beat me (pretty handily) at tennis and we had been to a bar once or twice when he invited me to dinner one evening. We went to Cajun, a great restaurant in the West Village and not far from his apartment. During desert he leaned over and suggested that maybe we could go to his apartment and seeing that it was rather late I could stay the night. I realize now that I was slow on the uptake because finally he gave a chuckle and said, "Terry I am making a pass at you." It seemed as though time stopped for a second. I was stunned and finally said, "Robert are you gay?" Then we started laughing. It was a mixture of nervous laughter and release that ended up with full blown guffaws as we realized the lack of communication that had occurred. Robert apologized many times, and I said it wasn't necessary and we did go up to his apartment. Unlike my little studio Robert had a nice one bedroom apartment with a doorman and an elevator. I couldn't even imagine what the rent was. We had a beer, laughed a bit and I went my way after making the point that I didn't want more passes being made. We got to know each other better and better and it came to the point that when we had spare time we spent it together. I took him to my haunts in Brooklyn. He took me to restaurants in Manhattan and even a couple of gay friendly bars. We of course went to baseball games and razzed each other about our choice of teams. We also spoke of our dreams and desires. I craved to be settled and secure. The week to week living and hustling to get clients was hard. Robert loved the give and take of the market and the nervous energy of the office. I had no particular dream girl but talked of what she might be like. Robert had no boyfriend but he finally told me his fantasy. We were at a bar off 38th Street called the Charles Dodgeworth Bar & Grill. Its clientele called it the Charley Dog. It wasn't a gay bar so much as gay and transgender friendly. The mix at any time would include some leather types in one corner, a few couples, gay and straight, at the bar and a bevy of advertising execs getting tight before the commute home. We were in the corner and each was working on the second drink when I noticed Robert looking at a woman watching the TV. "She's pretty isn't she?" he asked. I looked her over and agreed that she was attractive. "I did not think she'd be your type," I said. "Not really" said Robert though he then explained he had had a few female lovers. "I'm sort of mixed in what I like. Can I tell you what I want?" Over then next half an hour I listened as Robert unburdened himself. He loved to look at women. He loved to watch them walk; he liked their clothes and the smell of perfume. However, when it came to bed he was gay. His dream was a man, a small man, who could pass as a woman, would dress as a woman, who would live with him as a woman and oh yes, would I like to spend the night with him? This time I responded angrily. I reminded Robert that I was straight. I liked him, I liked doing things with him but I was not getting into bed with him and if we were going to remain friends he was going to have to agree to stop the sexual approaches. Robert promised. The drinking ended early and it was a week before we got together again. We both admitted that we had missed each other. We went to see a movie and then met some friends for a late dinner. A few days later Robert joined me at Franco's in Brooklyn for a wild night of Italian food and watching Italian soccer on the restaurant's TV. Then, in September after a dinner near his place we stopped at a small park in the Village and sat on a bench. He begged me to move in with him. He laid out all the arguments; I had no girlfriend, we spent all our time together, I'd look great in women's clothing, he'd help fund my business, there was a two bedroom apartment in his building we could move into, I could keep my name because Terry was androgynous, he'd give me money so that I would not have to skimp the way I had, he could give me enough money I would not have to work at all if I did not want to, and most of all he loved me. I blew up in his face and stormed back to Brooklyn. It was while I was crying by the window that I heard my doorbell. I ignored it but I had forgotten to lock up when I came in. I heard some steps and turned to look at who had walked in and saw my neighbor Anne. Anne and Peter had moved into the building the same week I had. They were artists who supported themselves by teaching (Anne) and working at a plumbing supply shop (Peter). After Robert, they were my closest friends. I looked at Anne for a moment. "You just walked in?" "I was worried. Slamming doors, furniture being tossed and then we could hear you crying. I had to check on you." Anne looked at me for a moment. "I won't ask if you're alright. Come over to our place." I tried not to go but somehow ended up sitting on their ratty old couch pouring my heart out. Somehow the more I talked though the worse it seemed. I realized that I was about the walk away from the best friend I had ever had, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. There was a long silence which Peter broke. "Weird" was all he said. Then, "Actually weirder than that, I mean really strange. Oh well, shit does happen." Again we sat in silence until Ann asked me, "Terry, if you could run to anyone now to tell all of this to and cry your heart out who would it be?" "Robert," I said without a moment's thought. "Then," continued Anne "I think you should consider his offer, or request or appeal, or whatever." "What?" said Peter and I simultaneously. "Why not?" said Anne and proceeded to lay out her thoughts. "Here are two people who want to spend all their time together. You tell each other secrets and deep fantasies you would never admit to anybody else. You unburden your worries to each other and even now when you are mad at Robert you admit you'd rather be at his apartment than here. Frankly the two of you are in love, you just have different expectations. You want security and someone to be with." "And Robert wants Terry's ass," broke in Peter. Ann was angered and turned on Peter. "This is important. No more of your snide jokes, OK." "But Anne," I said, "I'm not gay and as much as I'd like to be with Robert I can't see myself in bed with him. In fact the thought of sex with a man grosses me out. Anyway he wants me to dress in drag and be Terry the woman." Peter said, "That is the problem Anne. Sorry about the Ass remark, but there is a great divide here. Robert undoubtedly wants sex with Terry and that isn't Terry's thing." "Sex isn't some people's thing," replied Anne, "but they do it out of love for the one they are with." I wondered a bit about Peter and Anne's marriage. They seemed deeply in love but there was a biting edge to that comment. Anne continued. "Many women have married and had good marriages even when sex wasn't satisfying. We've all read enough articles to know that there are good marriages where one partner doesn't like sex but takes part to satisfy the other. I see no difference here." Anne took a deep breath and looked at me. "Terry, you have to ask yourself what Robert means to you. You're angry; he's probably very hurt and feeling guilty. You want to be with him, but it surely tortures him to only have a part of you. I don't know what to suggest, but I wouldn't throw the whole thing away right now." Peter shook his head and went to look out the window. "I can't see it working. Terry, whatever happens, you know I and Anne are here for you, right." "Anne and I," corrected Anne. We all laughed and I went back to my apartment. Much to my surprise I slept. Chapter 2: Not For The Money The next day was one of not answering my phone and working on a brochure for a local gallery. Every so often the phone would ring and I listen to the answering machine before picking up. Peter called from the shop to check on me, a client called to ask for a change in an order but Robert didn't call until 4:08. The phone rang and I listened to the message. "Hi Terry? It's me, I mean Robert. I'm feeling awful about last night. I know I should have just kept my mouth shut. I didn't sleep much last night so I'm bleary not drunk. Please give me a call. OK, well... please call." I sat looking at the machine and reached for the phone a few times. Then I realized I couldn't call because I did not know what to say. I thought about going for a walk but somehow ended up just looking out the window. I looked around and saw I had opened a beer but couldn't remember when. It was still cold so I drank it. I said, "I've got to talk with someone" and was halfway through dialing Robert's number when I realized what I was doing. In the end I just sat in my favorite chair and looked at the wall. I kept thinking back to what Anne said the prior night. "Frankly the two of you are in love, you just have different expectations" and "Sex isn't some people's thing but they do it out of love for the one they are with." I stood up and went to my cramped little bathroom. It had a full length mirror and I took off my clothes except for my briefs. I tried to imagine myself as a woman. I was slender but not skinny. My shoulders weren't too broad but then again I had no hips. My beard was very sparse, I shave twice a week and I had little body hair. All told I wasn't the most masculine man around, but then again no one would mistake me for a woman. I put my clothes back on and went out for a walk and to buy some groceries. As always I looked at the women I passed but this time I watched them differently. I looked at the clothes, the way they looked and how they acted. By the time I was back I was starting to think this was possible. Maybe I could do it. The question was, "Should I?" Robert had phoned again and his message was no less desperate. I really wanted to talk to him but I just could not bring myself to call and I could not sit around the apartment listening to the phone. I cooked myself a quick meal, counted the cash in my wallet and decided I could afford a few drinks. Brooklyn on a summer's evening is a great place to wander. Unlike Manhattan it is really a collection of small neighborhoods. I wandered in what I thought was a random fashion until I realized I was in front of a shop called "The Downs." A year ago I had designed a brochure for Patrick, the shop owner, and we had become friendly, though not really friends. When I needed a gift I would wander into his shop and look over the strange collection of odds and ends he had. On one shelf was an eleven volume collection of Kipling short stories, on another was a working 1950s bakelite radio. It was a great place to hunt for that bargain for your apartment or gift for an artistic friend. The thing was that Patrick was a gay activist who seemed to know everybody. I looked in the window and knew that I had subconsciously walked to the shop while thinking I was moving at random. Now I knew I had made my decision. "Hi Patrick," I said as I walked through the door. "Yo, Terry" he boomed back. Patrick was as tall as Robert but maybe 30 pounds heavier. He moved with deceptive speed and came and gave me a hug. "What can I sell you today? How about this great coffee set from the thirties. It's almost complete and would look great on this table here. I'll let you have them both for $230. No.. make that $200 because you're a friend." "Actually," I took a deep breath. "I need to ask your advice and a favor." Two hours later I left The Downs. Patrick did not approve of my decision but agreed to help and did so my giving me some advice. "Don't be flagrant. Aim for subtlety. Let him know by your actions want you need, what you want, what you can do." I left with an address of another shop, a phone number, a couple of books and a feeling that I was no longer lost. Robert had left another message on the machine which I listened to and then erased. I spent some time on the internet gathering information and looking at catalogues of women's clothing and supplies for cross dressers. It was almost 1:00 in the morning when I shut off the lights. The next morning I waited until I knew Robert would be at his office and I called his apartment. I waited for the answering machine's beep and said, "Robert, this is Terry. We have to talk. I've been thinking a lot about what you said and we can't let this fester. Can I come over after dinner for a drink? I'll bring the wine." I found it hard to get work done that morning. Fortunately I did not have any pressing deadlines. Finally it was lunch time and I took some time to shop for some items of clothing and buy a better bottle of wine than I would normally purchase. While I was at the wine merchants my cell phone rang and it was Robert. Our conversation was awkward but we agreed that I would show up about 8:00 and we would have a drink. No commitments were made on either side and no hopes were dashed. Work that afternoon was useless and I gave up trying about three. I put on some music and decided to have an early supper and get to work. I was almost too nervous to eat but I forced down some chicken and salad and then went to the side of my studio that acted as the bedroom. I took off my clothes and went into the shower. "OK Terry," I said in the tones of a stern teacher. "So far in your life you've always been hesitant about the things you've done. Time to bite the bullet now...." At that point I began laughing and taking my razor got in the shower. By the time I was done, I have shaved off what little body hair I had excepting my pubic hair and had washed and shampooed. I ended with a scented body wash that was a bit feminine but not powerful. Robert had said he liked the smell of perfume. Then I got dressed. Patrick had said be subtle and anyway I was not ready to dress in women's clothing. What I could do was hint. I was not going to get undressed in front of Robert but I did pull on a new pair of briefs I bought. They were silk, a luxury I never had indulged in. Then I pulled on a pair of nearly sheer nylon calf high tan ladies hose. It had been an embarrassing experience purchasing these and I could swear everybody in the shop was looking at me, but Patrick had said the shop was "understanding." My pants were new, soft, fawn colored and tailored so the legs were more tapered than most men's trousers. Finally I put on the new white silk shirt I had purchased and a thin gold chain around my neck. My feet slipped into soft loafers which were cut low and showed more of the foot than my standard deck shoes. Then I was done. My bank balance was very low, but at least I had taken an action. I looked at myself in the mirror. It wasn't how I would normally dress and maybe looked a bit effeminate but I had seen many men dressed like this. The big difference was that Robert had never seen me like this. I wondered if it was too subtle, not feminine enough; or worse, if Robert would just laugh when he opened the door. Last I took a brown beret I had purchased and slipped it into the small black waist pack I always carried. When I was done it was only 5:30 and the clock seemed like it was moving through molasses. I watched the news, played a computer game, reread parts of a book Patrick had loaned me and tried to pretend that I was not so nervous I wanted to run into the bathroom to vomit. I did end up on the toilet a number of times as a nervous belly betrayed me. When it was 7:20 I took the bottle of wine out of the fridge, put it in a gift bag and stepped out. Before I went to the subway I knocked on Anne and Peter's door. Peter opened it and I could see Anne looking over his shoulder. "Wish me luck" I said. Peter just shook his head, but Anne kissed me on my cheek and said, "Good luck." The subway ride seemed to take forever and I kept think people were looking at me and smirking, but as I started to relax I realized that there were others dress much more outlandishly than me. Finally we reached 14th Street and I stepped out and walked to Robert's building. The doorman buzzed me through and called up to Robert. I stepped into the elevator and pressed "8." While the elevator went up I put on the beret and staring at the dull reflection on the wall put it at what I thought was a jaunty angle. When I reached the eighth floor I had trouble stepping out of the elevator. The hallway, normally so bright seemed to be dark and go on forever. I did step out though and started walking towards 8E, Robert's apartment. The door opened and Robert appeared. At first he looked grim, almost angry and then I watched as his face went through a range of emotions. There was astonishment, joy, sadness, even perhaps fear. Before he could speak I stood in front of him and said, "Robert, it's not for the money." Chapter 3: Yesterday's Closet and Becka's Place The evening was awkward. It was a good half hour before we realized that we should open the wine. Robert hugged me, but no more. After a while of hemming and hawing we talked. I explained how fearful I was, particularly about sex. Robert swore to be gentle and to do everything he could to make me happy and explained how overcome with joy he was. We agreed that I would move in gradually. The only big disagreement we had involved money. Robert wanted to write out a check for me and I would have nothing to do with it. Finally he explained that I was going to incur a lot of expenses because I was doing things for him and it would make him happy to accept help. So I walked out with a check for a thousand dollars and $300 in cash. He insisted I let him call for a car service to take me home. That night I drank a bit to calm down and watched TV until 1:00 am. I kept thinking back to when I left Robert's apartment. "Terry may I kiss you?" he asked. Then without waiting he reached out, pulled me close and kissed me on the cheek. It was brief, it was light, and to my astonishment I did not feel repulsed. Maybe there was something between us beyond friendship. I turned out the lights at 1:30 and slept with no dreams. Upon awakening I grabbed a cup of coffee and got cracking on a contract I had and worked straight through to lunch. I stood by my work table looking at the restored photos while munching some cheese and apple slices and realized that I had accomplished far more than I had expected. This meant I had no excuse. I would have to go shopping. I looked at the piece of paper Patrick had given me. The first line said, "Yesterday's Closet" and an address in the East Village. Patrick said to ask for either Lawrence or Abbie and to put myself in their hands. The subways were crowded that afternoon and I kept looking at the women. One caught my attention in particular. She was about 5' 6," slender with a small bust and dark in an East-Indian fashion. She wore a skirt that went mid-calf, and a loose blouse. The skirt was wrinkled in a manner that said it was deliberate. The pattern was black and white. The blouse was slightly transparent, just enough to see the bra outline, and had a little lace around the neck but there was no collar. She wore black slippers that looked like ballet shoes and a lot of thin silver necklaces and bracelets. She saw me looking at her and I looked away quickly as she smiled. We parted ways at Astor Place and I walked to the store. I stood in front of Yesterday's Closet and looked in the window. It was a second hand clothing store, but the kind that tended toward costumes and period pieces. I had to wonder what Patrick had been thinking and almost left when a woman stuck her head out. "Come on in Hon. The prices are right and the people friendly." Without stopping to think I stepped in and looked around. I was facing a black dress with shiny black beads that looked like something from a Roaring Twenties film. Behind that was a man's tuxedo jacket in purple velvet. The woman came up to me a said, "How can I help you." I mentioned Patrick's name which broke the ice and as we talked I kept looking closer and closer at her. Finally I had to ask, "Are you a transvestite?" "Actually I am transgender. I had surgery two years ago. Originally Abe Gluck, now Abbie Gluck. What can we do for you?" >From telling the story to standing in the back room seemed to take only a few seconds. Abbie called for Lawrence to tend the shop and pulled me behind some curtains. "OK, let's start by taking a look at you. "Clothes off please, except your drawers." I gaped at her "What?" "Hon. There is nothing you have that I didn't use to have and haven't seen. You need some special help. We can do it. But modesty is not going to help. Clothes off." I stood there shivering a bit from the chill and embarrassment and every measurement conceivable was taken. Abbie bustled around with a tape measure. She measured what I expected, waist, chest, hips ("call it a butt Hon that's we women do"), but also my thighs, my neck, my shoulders, even the distance from my navel to the base of my spine. By the time we were done I felt like a specimen in a museum, not a person. Abbie leaned back and sighed. "OK, here's the news. You're about a size 10. The problem is that you don't have much in the way of hips and your bum, while cute, isn't that large either. I felt myself blushing and Abbie walked around me. Her eyes seemed to be dissecting me. "Your fem character, is she adventurous, business, sporting, punk, what?" I must have looked like a deer in the headlights, because Abbie stopped and said, "You haven't really thought this out have you? Here, put on this robe and sit down." Fifteen minutes later I was standing again. Terry was going to be a slightly punkish business woman. An appointment was set up for me at a hair salon called Becka's Place ("Don't worry Hon, they've done this before") and I was about to get dressed in women's clothing. I told Abbie about the woman on the subway, but she shook her head. "If you are going to pass as a woman you need to distract attention from the things that will give you away. You can't hide your lack of hips so we won't put you in a skirt that needs hips to hang on." "Now hang up that robe and take of your briefs." I did as I was told and prayed, without success, that I wouldn't get an erection. "Very nice" chuckled Abbie. "Don't worry it will go away. I needed to see your, shall we say size, to figure out your undergarment." She walked around me, "How are you set for funds? This won't be cheap." I thought for a moment and explained that I could spend no more than $300 to get started, figuring I'd need to keep a lot in reserve. Abbie nodded as though that was OK. She rustled around in bins and every so often would take out something in pinks or light blue or lacy white. "You don't need a lot of cover, so panties with a bit of lycra or elastic will keep you under control. Try on the blue ones." I turned my back on Abbie and trying not to fall over first slipped on leg and then another into the panties and then drew them up. Abbie stepped up to me and told me to tuck myself in. I realized my erection had wilted a bit and I pushed myself down between my legs. Abbie reached behind me and grabbed my cheeks. "What, what?" I jumped. "Stop that," she said. "Stand still." She lifted my cheeks up and then pulled the panties up higher on my waist. I could feel the material holding me. It was smooth and felt nice. I think I will remember that afternoon in detail for the rest of my life. I stood looking at myself in the mirror. At first I looked like a man in women's blue panties. Then I sat in a chair, facing the mirror, and slipped on a pair of panty hose. The nylon sliding up my shaved legs was tingly almost as if there was static there, but it was also something else. The Abbie had me face the mirror and I watched as she slipped a brassiere around me and guided my arms through the straps. I was mesmerized. I kept looking at the flimsy garment as if it were a snake coiling about my ribs preparing to crush me. The fact that it was dark red made it look even more dangerous, but at the same time I almost felt like I was being hugged. I looked again in the mirror. It was as if someone was switching a picture on and off, not quite a man, not quite a woman, man, woman, man, woman.... "Snap out of it hon." I heard Abbie's voice and jumped. "You're really getting into this you know." She laughed, "I guess I am not surprised. You need breast forms, you're only an A cup by the way and I'd stay away from the ones with big nipples. In the mean time here are some foam pads." I slipped in the pads. Abbie put the robe on me again and put a scarf on my head. "Yep, you'll do. You'll get made of course, but you should pass most of the time." "Made?" I asked. Abbie explained that "made" was a way of saying found out. I was stunned. It didn't occur to me that I would be seen in public. Of course I would be but I hadn't thought that far. Robert went to parties, he traveled on business. I couldn't stay hidden in the apartment. "It's not that bad Hon. Sometimes people get nasty, but usually it's not bad." The Abbie went and started sorting through dresses. "I'm starting you in a dress. You're gonna jump into the deep end on this. You have a hair appointment in just over an hour. It's a five minute walk from here, so you've got one hour to work on your mannerisms. Your voice isn't bad, just speak softly for now, ah yes I knew I had this. Slip this on. I looked at the "this" she handed me and laughed. "No way. This is a kids 'Look how tough I a' dress." "That's right," said Abbie. "A bit punk and when people see you they'll concentrate on the punk attitude and miss or misinterpret any male mannerisms you show. Try it on Hon." I slid the dress over my head and struggled with the zipper on the back and looked at the mirror. I almost fell over. The head scarf was messed up and looked out of place and I needed makeup, but a woman looked back at me. Not necessarily an attractive woman, but not ugly. She looked tough, even dangerous. Her dress was cut so that the left shoulder was lower than the right and showed a bit of the red brassiere. The hem line was deliberately uneven. The cloth was black, but there was a silver embroidered crescent moon over the left breast. Had I seen her at a party I would have been tempted to speak to her, but too frightened to try and pick her up. "I believe it," I breathed to Abbie. "I am not sure if Robert will like it, but I believe it." "If you believe it," she responded, "you're half way there" For the next hour I walked around in the clunky black shoes Abbie found for me. I stood up and sat down. I picked things up and placed them on shelves, I talked to Abbie and Lawrence, and finally I sunk into a chair in exhaustion, and then rearranged myself in a less manly pose. "Oh my God," I groaned "My God, this is tough." "It's only the beginning, Hon. Now you owe us $300, and that's a bargain, but I'm hoping you'll come back. Becka's place is out the door and to the right two blocks. Keep your head up. With the scarf on no one will see your hair and two blocks shouldn't be too bad. You need more clothes but jeans, especially if they are black, tight and a bit worn, will do fine. Also any t-shirts you have in bad taste." I stepped out of the shop waiting for people to start to point and shout at me. It wasn't until I reached Becka's Place that it occurred to me that I was in the East Village of Manhattan. I might look a bit outrageous but I definitely not out of place. Becka's Place looked like any other small hair salon in the city. I had never been in one before but I passed them every day. I walked through the door and a small buzzer chirped. A small oriental woman looked up. "Terry?" I nodded. "OK, that's good, alright, Hi, I'm Becka, Good, Abbie called, don't be nervous, OK, sit down good.." She rattled on like this for a minute and then took my scarf off. "Oh my God. We got a lot of work to do. You staying black?" I thought for a moment and then explained the persona we had chosen, the fact that I wanted nothing outrageous, and closed my eyes. I felt her cutting, brushing, combing. "You want maybe red highlights. No??" Finally it was done. I looked at the mirror. My hair was cut so that there was a ragged fringe almost reaching my eyebrows. In the back it was layered to just above the collar except for one braid which was a little longer and had some beads on it. I smiled and nodded. Becka had caught the look. "You need make up too, Terry." I seemed to go into a dream state. Becka kept smearing lipstick on the back of her hand and then put a reddish brownish lipstick on my lips. "You watch me so you can do this yourself." Eye shadow and a bit of blusher followed. Then Becka said, "Your nails. Red, black, brown, what do you think?" "I think we'll leave them as is." That was the wrong answer it seemed but I managed to get away with a manicure with clear gloss. I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. The small waist pack was wrong, and I could see myself under the clothing and makeup, but still, but still, it looked like a woman. More to the point I believed that I looked like a woman. I paid the bill after being shocked by the price. Thanked Becka and made the trip home. I did get a lot of looks but as far as I could tell they were because I looked tough and butch, not because I had been discovered. On the subway one woman about my age dressed in a business suit gave me a long look up and down and then smiled. I think that if my stop hadn't come she might have made a move on me. I climbed the stairs to my apartment feeling the hose brush back and forth. >From time to time my penis would stir but the panties and pantyhose kept me in check. It was both frustrating and erotic. I was about to put the key in my lock when I stopped. I left my shopping bag by the door and went over to Anne and Peter's and rang the bell. Chapter 4: Something For Me. Anne opened the door and stared for a moment. "Oh my God. Oh... Oh.. come in, Terry?" I pushed my way in and shut the door looking at the still gawking Anne. "Yes Anne it's me. Tell me, do I look ridiculous, do you think Robert will like it? Anne heard the tone in my voice and pulled me into the center of the room. "Let me look. Wow! You know if a person didn't get a close look at you, you'd really pass for a woman." There was a pause. Anne walked around me. "I don't know if Robert will like it. I've only met him once, remember? You don't look ridiculous." She looked me up and down. "Somehow I didn't think the Manhattan club look was what you would go for, but I don't know. It works on you." I felt relieved. "It's not too over the top is it? I mean I didn't intend on a punk look when I started the day, it just sort of came about." Anne came and gave me a hug. "No, it's not too much." Anne grabbed a couple of beers and we sat down on the couch and I told her about my day. Occasionally she would make a comment or suggestion and laughed as I pulled my electronic organizer out of my bag to make notes. By the time Peter came in I had a list that included such things as; "eyeliner ? dull green," "bras, not low cut, not underwire," "J Bonitas for more conservative clothes," "carry feminine supplies, looks realistic," "earings Parkers Jewelers." My phone rang and it was Robert. I thought for a bit while he talked about how happy he was and then asked him to come to my place and we'd decide where to eat then. He agreed, saying he was running a bit late, as always, and did 7:00 sound ok? Then the door opened and Peter walked in. He came across and kissed Anne on the cheek and turned to me with that questioning look one has when confronted with a person you don't know but it is in a social situation where you are waiting for an introduction. Then his eyes widened. "Terry? Oh shit. I don't believe you did this. Wow. Stand up." I stood up and Peter looked at me, slowly shaking his head. "I don't believe this" he said again as he went to the fridge to get a beer. The conversation became stilted after that and Peter kept looking me up and down occasionally shaking his head or asking where I had gotten the clothes so fast. After a few minutes I said I had to check my answering machine and get some chores done and left. While I was in my apartment I could hear Anne and Peter through the walls. I could not make out the words but it was an argument. I felt badly. Something had triggered discord and I hoped it wasn't me. Had Peter made another snide comment or perhaps Anne had taken the way he looked at me as a threat? These were my friends but I could not see what I could do. In time the voices died down. I emptied my bag on the bed and looked at my purchases. There was a light blue brassiere, a pair of white lace panties that Abbie said were "control lace", a lipstick and blusher from Becka's and a pair of panty hose. Together with what I was wearing and the pants, blouse and flats from the night before, this made up my female clothing. Of course I had some clothing already that would be usable such as blue jeans, some t-shirts, a running suit in gray and light blue, but it was obvious that I had a lot of shopping to do. The first thing was to make a list. I sat down at my computer and quickly realized that I didn't really know what I needed or how much it would cost. In the end it took me almost two weeks to complete the list and the estimated cost was about $1700 for the very bare minimum. Fortunately I would not have to buy everything immediately. As I sat and typed in some items, panties, pajamas, bras, I looked around my apartment. It struck me that sex might not be the only adjustment to make. Robert's apartment looked as though he had gone to a furniture store and given the number of rooms and the amount of space to a salesman and said, "Sell me some furniture that people won't notice." My apartment was decorated in used furniture and appliances picked out for their color and sense of fun. The only new pieces were the computer table, work table and the task chair by the computer. My coffee table was something from Asia; my armchair was covered in a throw from the mid-East. Patrick had sold me the lime green toaster and the set of glasses with portraits of old Yankees players. Most of all, my place was neat and organized without looking structured. Robert had a cleaning team come in once a week but there were always magazines scattered around, a glass that hadn't been put away, or a pair of sneakers under a table. I wasn't compulsive but I liked to be neat and I could see some issues arising if and when I moved in full-time. I was feeling a bit hot and tired at this point so I got up and took off the dress and panty hose and went to the bathroom to sponge off. I looked at myself in the mirror. I took off the bra and put the foam pads on the counter. With the lipstick, blusher and eye shadow I looked liked a woman if I kept my eyes above my chest. I was not pretty but I could see the attraction some men, and surely some women, would feel for me. I washed my face, sponged down and put on my bathrobe. I stopped and thought about the ratty blue cotton robe I was wearing and went to my computer and added "Robe" to the list. I had no idea what one would cost or what I wanted and decided to comb through some online catalogs of women's clothing to learn the prices and styles. I leaned back in my chair and then laughed. As I always did as I leaned back I had spread my legs. As a man this was no problem, but now it was an issue. I sat up and crossed my ankles. Better. There were a lot of things to learn, and a lot of habits to break. 26 years of learning how to walk, sit, talk, all of these were out the door. I was going to be found out, and I would just have to put up with it until I got better. I fooled around on the computer, looked at web sites devoted to cross dressing, transgender and also at the catalogs from mainstream stores such as Macy's. Time passed and I noticed, with a shock, that it was 6:42. "Damn." I jumped up and went into the bathroom. In a short while Robert would be here and I was not going to greet him at the door in a ratty robe. I rushed back into the bathroom and put on the bra and fit the pads into the cups. "Hello ?luv" I said to my image. I went back outside and slowly, so as not to tear them, slid on the panty hose. I had had three lovers in college and later so I had seen how women did this. Then it was on with the dress and back to the bathroom to try and figure out the make-up. It took me three tries to get the lipstick acceptable. Becka had included blusher with the lipstick but I had no eye shadow. I hadn't been able to really wash it off so there was a trace left. It was later that I learned about cleansing creams that would remove make up. I looked at myself in the mirror, made a few adjustments to my hair, put on the black shoes I purchased at Yesterday's and sat down (ankles crossed) to wait. I was ready by 7:03 and Robert knocked on the door at 7:08 which showed how anxious he was because he was usually at least ten minutes late to anything not related to his business. I stood up, took a really deep breath, opened the door, took a step back and smiled. I wasn't sure what to expect. I feared a look of disgust, or worse that he would laugh. Robert stood there and stared. First there was surprise, then a look that was almost fright and then a look I later realized was lust. Whatever, he then stepped in the door and kicking it closed with his foot pulled me into his arms. I guess I wasn't expecting that either because for a moment I froze and then started to push away, but then his lips met mine and I wilted. I could feel a bit of his five o'clock shadow and smell a touch of aftershave. It wasn't disgusting. I put my arms around him and hugged back and we stood together in the little foyer for a minute locked in an embrace. The Robert pulled away. He pushed me into the middle of the room and stepped back to take a look. "Oh God Terry," his voice was hoarse. "Holy.. I mean.. I.." He stopped. "Robert, is it OK?" "Oh Terry," he gasped. "You are my dream." And then he came back and kissed me again. This time his tongue probed my lips and for a moment I kept them shut, feeling a wave of disgust. I had, of course, dueled tongue for tongue with past lovers. Julia in particular liked to stay lip locked for what seemed eternity, but this was different. This time I was not the aggressor, if that was the word. I took a mental breath and reminded myself of the commitment I had made. Robert pulled back, look worried, but I grabbed his head and pulled his lips to mine and opened mine and waited. Robert waited a moment, and then his tongue slipped between my lips and met mine. Again for a moment I was repulsed but the moment overcame me. I felt warm and protected. His arms were around me and the bulk of his body pressed against me. Robert pulled away after a bit. "Terry. You can't imagine how you make me feel. I've waited for this moment for months. It has been torture but it was, no, you are worth it." We kissed a bit more and then Robert tensed for a moment. "Terry, let me do something for you. Please trust me." Robert actually lifted me up and carried me to the couch. My stomach was churning in fear. I could feel his erection through his pants and was saying to myself that I wasn't ready for this. "Terry I promise I won't hurt you. I am not going to enter you. OK?" Then Robert slowly lifted the hem of my dress and slid his hands around my hips. He kissed me on the neck and chin and eyes, while his hands caressed first my buttocks, then my thighs and finally my penis. Too my shock I realized that my penis was straining against the fabric of my panty hose and panties. Half of me was crying for release and the other half screaming that this was wrong. I was still balancing like that when Robert hooked his fingers in the bands of the hose and panties and started to slide them down my legs. "Robert, wait," I gasped. "What.. what.." But Robert kissed me and said, "I won't hurt you Terry, just relax." He slipped my undergarments off and his hand right hand ran up and down my thigh while his left held me close and we kissed again. I found myself becoming more and more excited. Then he slid down off the couch until he was kneeling next to me and lowered his head to my penis. Understand that, even though I was 26 and had been to bed with three women and made out with a few more, I had never had a "blow job." I guess I should say that I still haven't for what Robert did that night could not be called by such a crude name. Robert made love to me with his mouth and hands and the experience was almost more than I could bear. He nibbled on the flesh of my inner thighs and licked the shaft of my penis. His left hand was wrapped around behind and played with my anus, though he never tried to push a finger in. His right hand massaged my legs and occasionally cupped my balls or ran up and down the shaft. Finally he pulled all of me into his mouth and moved his head up and down slowly. A few times he must have sensed something because just before I could come he would back up and hold me firmly until the spasm subsided. Then he would start again. I was whimpering and squirming on the couch when finally he held my panties over the head of my penis and stroking up and down brought me to a climax. I almost screamed but managed to keep it to squeaks and moans. Then it was over. We sat and cuddled on the couch and Robert from time to time stroked my flaccid member. I decided I had to do something so I reached out and started to stroke Roberts's penis through his pants, but he nudged my hand away and said, "No, tonight's about you Terry, just about you." After a bit we started to kiss again and part way through I remembered that my penis had been in his mouth and started to gag. I pulled away and ran into the bathroom. I didn't vomit but felt a wave of nausea run through me. I could hear that Robert was standing outside the door, so I forced myself to come out. "Are you OK?" "Just a moment's trouble," I said and leaned against him. "I'm feeling wonderful now." We cuddled a talked for a while covering such subjects as how to handle two apartments. What kind of clothes he wanted me to wear. The length of the subway rides. Finally I had to get something of my chest (perhaps off my bosom). "Robert," I said tentatively, "shouldn't we be talking about safe sex?" There was a moment's silence and then I spoke again. "My last lover, Shelly, was strictly into safe sex and I was tested for AIDS. Anyway we always used a condom, so I know I'm OK." Robert was silent for a minute. "Terry, do you remember when we went out for drinks the day after our first racquet ball game?" I nodded. "That day I realized I had fallen in love with you. I hadn't been with another person for quite a while, but I determined that some way or another I would persuade you to be my lover. It became, you became, an obsession. I even went and got tested planning for tonight and more nights and I;ve been with no one since. I guess that's a way of saying I'm clean as well." We lay against each other for a while longer. "Robert," I said. "I'm hungry and we did say that we were going to decide where to eat." Chapter 5: Shopping and Preparations The next few weeks were confusing, wonderful and occasionally painful. I had to balance work with shopping, spending time with Robert and practicing with Anne or alone in my apartment how to move and look like a woman. I decided to call that first day of dressing as a woman "T-Day" and live my life as though it had restarted then. That first evening on the couch stayed with me, and occasionally I would shudder with passion just thinking about it. When the morning came I got out of bed at 7:00 as usual and looked at the temperature on the TV news. It was 58 and perfect running weather. I was pulling on my jogging clothes when it occurred to me that this would be the first time I would be running as a woman. Would I need a bra and the foam pads? I opened my list on the computer and typed in "sports bras 2." I decided I would skip the bra but wear the running suit jacket over my t-shirt. I warmed up and went out for about 25 minutes. As always I saw people I knew but none of them gave me a second glance. It was early, they were sleepy, and I was a common sight jogging along. I went back to the apartment and called Robert. We when back and forth a bit about how lovely the previous night was. Then I said that tonight was off. Robert sounded hurt but I explained that I was falling behind on some projects and anyway I needed a little time for the changes to settle in. I made him feel better by asking him to call me after work. After a shower and breakfast I went to my work table but there was no way I could concentrate. I would be staring at a photograph trying to figure out what was wrong with the color and find myself daydreaming about going somewhere in a car with Robert driving. Finally when I looked up and realized I had spent half an hour going around in circles asking if maybe I was gay and had never realized it, I decided to give up on work for a few hours and do something else. I went to buy some more clothes. My first stop was J Bonita's. Abbie had recommended the store but I still entered with a lot of trepidation. The door buzzer caught the attention of a slender Hispanic woman. She was well dressed and looked me up and down. I had changed my underwear, except for the red brassier but otherwise was still in the black punk dress. "Hi. I need something a bit more uh, mainstream." She came over and started to ask what I was looking for and then stopped and looked again. The she smiled; "You're coming from Yesterday's Closet" right? I stopped and then knew what she meant. "Is it that obvious?" "No, not really; It took me a least a minute to work it out and most trannies aren't that good. How long have you been at it?" "Very recently," I replied. "But I have a boyfriend and he's more the business type and if I go out with him I'll need to look a bit less..." I halted for a minute. "Arty," suggested the woman. "Yes." She started to walk me around the shop talking clothes and I mentioned I was on a bit of a budget. We looked at skirts, blouses and dresses and finally she pulled a black dress, an odd looking dark blue and green garment and a skirt off the rack. "Start with the black number." "Excuse me?" She looked me over. "You really are new at this. Go into the changing room, and put on the black dress and come out so I can see you." I went into the dressing room feeling as though any moment one of the other customers would start screaming. I took off my dress and pulled the new one on. It was close fitting and went to just below the knees. The hem flared out a little and the neck line was high and square. The sleeves went almost to my elbows and it was unadorned. I checked the tag, $118.95. I swallowed a bit. This was going to cost, but I liked the look in the mirror. The shoes were wrong of course but I could get some black flats. I stepped out. The saleswoman looked at me and nodded. "Turn around Chica." I turned. She came up and tugged a bit on it. "You could do with some more in the hips you know. They make padded panties. What you really need are better boobs." I mentioned that I was going to order some A cup forms. "Yes, A, or maybe a little larger. Prepare for sticker shock. Boobs don't come cheap." I said I had already discovered that and we went back to discussing the dress. She explained that with that dress I needed low heels (heels!) and a bag that didn't look like it was going into combat. Also pearls for a fancy night and a thin necklace for the rest of the time. I looked at the mirror. "Does this look OK?" "Sure" she said. "It's your basic, black dress. You can dress it up with jewelry or wear a fancy jacket over it, or just wear it as is for something nice but not formal. On you it looks pretty good, but you need a bit more "oomph" in the body." The next item was the weird garment. After a few minutes of struggling in the dressing room I called for help and the saleswoman came in. "What is this?" I asked. She looked at me all tangled up and almost had to lean against the wall because of the laughter. "Sorry," she said. "I shouldn't laugh, but if you move any further you might just hang yourself." She helped me disentangle and explained that this piece of clothing combined a skirt, slip, bodice and over blouse into one single garment. She then showed be how to arrange it and slip it on. There was something erotic about having a woman dress me in women's clothing and I had to concentrate on not showing the effect it was having. Finally I looked in the mirror. "What do you think Chica?" she said. It looked good, it looked very good, but I guess I was already thinking about a personal style and decided it just wasn't the look I was after. Anyway the dress was $253.95 and more than I was willing to spend. The skirt, white, slim, with ornate black designs was a success and before I left the shop I also purchased a shell top in black, a black slip, a t-shirt with birds on it, a white blouse with black decorations and a blouse that had greens and reds and blues that the saleswoman told me would go well with black trousers or nice jeans. The bill came to about $280 dollars and I was directed to a discount shoe store along with strict orders on what I was to look for. First though I went back to my apartment. I was swinging along the pavement feeling pretty good. The sun was shining and it was a nice day. Then someone bumped into me, hard. I stumbled back and noticed a couple of guys staring at me. "Hey fag," one said making a kissing noise. "Want to come with us?" I turned and walked on, my stomach cramping with anger and fear. Thank God they did not follow me, but I could hear them laughing and making comments. Then a soda can whizzed by my head spraying me with soda. I kept going and reached my apartment with no further incidences. I locked the door and leaned against it breathing hard. Swearing and shaking I pulled off my clothes and went to sit by the window. Then I realized I was still in the red bra and put my robe on. I thought about calling Robert but decided these were problems I had to deal with myself. I'd tell him later. After a bit I got up and started the coffee maker. I'd get to the photos shortly but I had one more thing to do first. I sat down at the computer and looked at my notes. I had skimmed through some of the sites with breast forms and other items for cross dressers and found one called "Elegant Transformations". As the saleswoman said, I needed some better boobs. Shopping on line cheered me up. The site was not meant to be funny but there was a lot of unintentional humor. My favorite was the link to "Breast Forms ? Discontinued Models". I tried to imagine how models would change from year to year. Last year's had fins and dual exhausts, this year's came with a CD changer? By the time I was done my good humor had returned almost completely and I had ordered a pair of forms that had "moderately perky nipples," and two gaffs that looked like panties, one in white with black embroidery and one in white with some lace and red embroidery. Total, $256 including shipping, arrrgh. The forms alone cost $185 but that wasn't a lot I discovered. There was a pair I saw on line that cost $350. All I could imagine was that there had to be a 6 CD changer involved. Then I settled down to work and put in a good five hours, sipping coffee and eating fruit and crackers. When I looked up it was time to think about shopping for dinner. I was almost done with a $350 contract and had looked at a simple fix that I was charging $45 for. The day's incident was a thing of the past and I was ready to go outside again. First I picked up the panty hose and dress and looked to see if there were instructions on how to wash them. It looked as though I could handle them like I would one of my shirts, so I put some detergent in the sink, washed and rinsed a few times and hung them, together with the panties from last night in the bathroom. Handling the panties made me think of last night and to my surprise I was getting an erection and my throat was feeling warm. I sat in my chair and dreamed about the prior night while stroking myself. I teased my nipples and moved my hand up and down my erect penis. I thought of Robert's lips on my cheek and him nipping my throat. Finally I could take it no more and grabbing a dish towel stroked myself to an orgasm. As I lay back in the chair I giggled as I asked myself if this was something I would tell Robert about or not. Then I got up and tried to decide what to wear to go shopping. It was pretty chilly outside and I gazed at my closet trying to figure out something informal. In the end I pulled on some black jeans that were a little snug, a black t-shirt with the band name "Brayber Wheels" printed across the front, and a red zip front sweat shirt. I grabbed a Yankees hat and to make it more feminine pinned on a brooch that a past girl friend had left behind and never reclaimed. That and sneakers made the look. I refreshed my lipstick and grabbed my shopping list. Stepping into the hall I remembered that Anne would be back from her teaching job so I rang the bell. Anne opened the door. "Hi Anne, I'm off to the A&P for some shopping. Anything you need me to pick up?" Anne thought for a moment. "Peter won't be back for a while. Give me a sec and I'll some with you." The two of us went out and I told Anne about the day including the harassment I received. We discussed clothing, men (men?), shopping and I suddenly stopped. "I was going to get some earrings," I said. "Also shoes. The time is running away from me." Anne looked at me. "Get a grip, girl. You've only just started. Give yourself some breathing space. Shoes can wait and we can get your ears pierced at a boutique on the next block." "Pierced?" I mumbled. "Yeah, the selections are better for pierced ears and anyway, look at it as a rite of passage." The boutique was a hole-in-the-wall shop advertising a free pair of earrings when you get your ears pierced and buy one pair. Before we were done I had pierced ears (not that painful) a jar of cleansing solution, two pairs of earrings and an inexpensive gold plated chain with some black beads. Shopping at the A&P was the standard bustle of after work people getting their food and supplies. Once or twice people looked at me strangely and I assume they had figured me out. Everything was going smoothly until I realized something was missing from the list. "Anne I need some more things." "Ok, what?" I stumbled for a bit, "well, make up can we get it here. Also..." I stopped and then remembered what Julia used to call them... "supplies". Anne looked at me for a moment and the light went on. "Why?" "You told me about keeping some in the pocket book, oh I need to buy a purse, makes me look more realistic." Anne, shrugged and pulled me into the feminine supplies section. A box of Femtex Tampons, Light Day pads, and with my heart pounding and feeling as though I had turned beet red, we were done. In the make up aisle Anne helped me pick out some eye shadow, another lipstick and some pads to remove make-up. She also helped me pick out some more panty hose and knee highs. At the check out counter I felt weird putting the items on belt along with the tomatoes, bread, juice and veal I had purchased but the check out lady, like all of her kind, mumbled under her breath and checked me through. When we got back to the building Anne put her groceries away and came back over to my apartment. She looked at the photos I was working on and then noticed the open door to the bathroom. "Oh my God. You're perfect you know." I looked at her puzzled. "You're the perfect unmarried girl, the underwear washed in the sink and hanging over the rails. Just remember to take it down before Robert come over, it's not romantic." I poured us some wine and we talked for a while. I kept feeling as though Anne wanted to say something to me. Then we heard Robert opening their door and Anne said, "Thanks for the wine. We need to go girl shopping together some day." The she left. The rest of the evening was as I planned. I made some dinner. Talked for a while with Robert, worked again on the photos and by 9:30 was ensconced in my chair, wearing floppy sweats, drinking a beer and watching the Yankees beat up on Chicago. The next morning was dedicated to work and by the time Robert called at noon the big project was finished, the smaller one almost complete and I had sent off an estimate on a real estate brochure. We agreed to meet at his apartment and then go out to dinner. Robert said he knew of a great little Indian place near him. A little "dress up" but not bad and dimly lit. I had to laugh at that, knowing what he meant was that people would not be able to get a good look at me. We agreed to meet at 7:00. I still needed shoes and a handbag. I did some sums, and decided that I would be able to pay my rent and buy a bit more clothing based on what I had in the bank and the two projects I had just completed, and still have a bit left over. I wasn't going to ask Robert for money if I could avoid it. The Shoe Place was about a ten minute walk from my apartment so dressed in my new skirt and a black t-shirt plus a sweater I headed out. As I hit the pavement my stomach turned over thinking about the men from the previous day but no one noticed me on the walk. I had never been in a non-discount shoe store before. I ordered my shoes from the web or purchased cheap and the first thing I realized is that I had no idea what I needed or my size. The saleswoman at J. Bonita said I had to get a pair of low black heels with open toes but that was it. Fortunately I knew that my European size was between a 42 and a 43 and with that I managed to start looking. Thank God, the prices were not bad. Remembering something Julia had said I knew that there would be boxes of little stocking like sox for my feet. I was looking around when I heard a voice behind me. "Can I help you with something?" I turned and saw a man behind me. He was in his late forties, a bit overweight and wearing a tag on his shirt that said, "Hi, I'm Phil, ask me about the Shoe Place Buyers' Club." "Thank you, I'm still looking," I replied and then I saw a pair of what I would have called sandals. They had about a 1?" heel, were shiny black, had thin straps going every which way over the foot and had open toes. "I'd like to try those please. I know my size in Europe but I am not sure what it would be here." We settled on trying a 10? and fortunately this shoe came in that size. The salesman sat in front of me and I realized quickly he was trying to get a peek up my skirt. I made a few little adjustments and blocked his view. As he slid the shoes one he asked me where in Europe I was from. I was stuck! I knew I had to say something and fortunately was able to pretend I was from North Umbria in England. My deliberately quiet voice and attempts to sound somewhat female gave me a bit of an accent and I had bicycled through the district a few years ago. Also in my favor was he did not know where it was. Then it was time for me to stand up. Heels are not a natural thing and I stood there for a moment trying to figure out how to walk on them without stumbling. I had to move and trying to remember what I saw when I watched women I started. I took small steps, occasionally looking down as though to admire the shoes. A few steps out and a few steps back, and then sitting down, remembering to sweep