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Sweet Confusions A few words at the start. After I finished my first story, "Terry and Robert", my partner suggested that I put it on Fictionmania. His response, and the kind words of the Fictionmania reviewers, encouraged me to try my hand at a work of fiction. The idea for this story came from an off-hand comment made by a member of the transgender support group I attend. Chapter 1: Practicing The sixteenth note run in the key of F was proving a real problem and I had been practicing the two measures again and again at half speed when I felt my sister hovering in the background. I put down the flute and turned to look. "What's up Diane?" I asked with a hint of exasperation in my voice. I lived with my sister in Manhattan while I studied music at New York University. We had an agreement that I would not practice flute or piano late at night and she would not interrupt practice sessions unless it was important. However she had learned how to stand just out range in an expectant manner that was worse than her barging in and shouting. Living with Diane had great benefits. For one thing I didn't pay rent. I shared the household chores and occasionally helped out at her business. In return I had free room and board and a place to practice. Since our parents had died two years earlier Diane had taken care of me and though I grumbled like most teenagers I was really grateful. Diane looked at me and smiled. "Sorry to bother you Andy, but I'm in a bind and need your help. I would have waited until you were done but I know you're off to class in a bit and we have to talk now." "Is it the shop?" I asked. Diane, at 28, was nine years older than me and after getting a degree in design had opened up a clothing business with her friend Carol. Ahh Carol. There was every young man's wet dream. She was a tall woman of color with cocoa butter skin, a beautiful body and a smile that turned bones to water. Unfortunately she looked at me as the "little brother" of her best friend and paid no attention to me at all. "Uh huh. Remember I told you about the upcoming designers' show where we have a booth?" I nodded, indicating that I had heard something about it. Actually it had dominated the conversation for the last three or four weeks. "Last year we got very little notice and only a few orders. This year we are showing our softer look and Carol and I came up with a great idea to get some attention. Remember how I talked about James Wilkes of Hersch Wholesalers?" The name rang no bells with me so I just raised my eyebrows and shook my head. This was obviously going to take some time so as Diane talked I began to disassemble and clean my flute. "James Wilkes is the buyer for Hersch," Diane went on. "He is so important that two or three journalists will follow him around the show. If he even stops at a booth for a few minutes and talks to the people it makes the news. If we can make him stop at our display and spend a little time it will mean more sales for us, even if Hersch doesn't buy anything. That's how important Wilkes is." I put the flute away and moved the music stand to the corner. "Diane, how does this involve me? I suppose I could play soft music and add to the atmosphere, but that's about all I can offer." Diane gave me a smile that I recognized as her bargaining smile. "You could model some of the clothing Andy." She stopped and seemed to take a breath. "Our new line is called Sweet Confusions and it's very ambisexual. I'm not saying that you're not a man or anything, but you are small and delicate and we have a blazer and some trousers that you would look great in." "And Wilkes is a fag and will stop, look at you, lick his lips and take the time to try and pick you up," Carol's voice broke in. I swiveled around in surprise because I did not realize she was in the apartment. It was a warm late-September afternoon and she was dressed in baggy mid-eastern pants and a halter top that outlined her body and showed off her breasts. I tried not to stare. "Also, you blush so nicely, it is sure to turn him on." "Carol, back off," said Diane. "Andy, it's true. You will be stunning and I am sure Wilkes will stop and try and chat you up. It won't go beyond that. He'll have to cover for himself by looking at the clothing and asking questions, and Carol and I will be there to distract him if he gets too personal. By the time he moves on all sorts of people will start looking at our stuff to see what interested Wilkes." I said nothing but just looked at them, trying to make my face show a mixture of disbelief and disgust. Diane moved in for the kill. "Of course this would be more than just helping move boxes at the shop so we'd pay you for modeling. How about one hundred George Washingtons for a few hours in the evening?" Wave money in front of most under-graduates and you will get a Pavlovian response; first we salivate, then we dream of what we could spend the money on, then we nod our head in agreement. "He better keep his hands off me though," I said. "No problem," grinned Carol. "I'll be by your side all evening until he wanders off to look at the other clothes and the models in them." We decided that after classes I'd take a couple of hours for studies and then join them at the shop at about 7:00. I'd try on some clothes and Diane and Carol would treat me to dinner. Chapter 2: Fawn Blazers and Rolled Sleeves I spent the afternoon in Astronomy class (hey it satisfied a science requirement) and The Concerto Advanced. Then I settled down in the library to work on a paper, start the Astronomy assignment and read a bit. I grabbed a snack before heading to Diane's and Carol's shop on Mercer Street. I got there just before seven and rode the elevator to their loft on the fourth floor. The shop took up the whole floor and when you got off the elevator you were greeted by a large sign that said Mercer Way Clothing. Move your eyes about and you saw the standard confusion of a fashion house. Cutting tables, manikins, design tables and racks and racks of clothing. On one wall was a large poster showing the new line "Sweet Confusions." I waved at Carol and went to look at the poster. The clothes were loose, draping the models more than fitting them. The sleeves were often overly long and rolled. You had to take a close look sometimes to tell if the model were a man or a woman. The whole line shouted "GAY" and I said to myself that there was no way I was going to appear like this in public or a show or whatever. The hundred dollars wasn't worth it. Diane and Carol came up to me and asked me what I thought. I explained that the deal was off, I was going back to the apartment and what did they think I was any way. Have you ever had two attractive women turn disappointed eyes at you? Even worse, had one of them (the one that is not your sister) put her arm about your shoulder? In short order we had reached an agreement. I would be the model, but I would have something to wear to and from the show that was not indecisive about gender. I would be listed not as Andrew Lunden, but with some other name (we ended up with Jean Desalles because it could be male or female and sounded "exotic") and as soon as the need for me to model was done I could change or cover up. Carol looked around and called, "Hey Martha. What you up to?" I was surprised to realize there was another person in the shop, and then I heard some shuffling sounds and a middle aged woman came from behind some racks. She was dressed in a smock, had a pin cushion on her left wrist, a tape measure hanging around her neck and scissors in her hands. "Just hemming a few pieces. Ahh, is this Andy then?" "Andy, meet Martha, our resident genius of the threads," said my sister. I exchanged awkward greetings while Martha looked me up and down, making me feel more like an object then a person. "Hold your hands above you head, child," she said. I was about to protest over the word "child" when I saw Dianne shaking her head. I silently raised my hands and Martha walked around me. "Five foot four, maybe five. Waist twenty nine about, hips slender, chest thirty five maybe thirty four, I say about a 10 though we may have to work the waist a bit." I dropped my jaw and looked at her. I knew my measurements pretty accurately and this woman had, without using her tape measure, just called them out. Martha looked at me. "Honey, I don't need to measure you to get a size. I've been doing this too damn long." Diane and Carol had been talking all the while this had been going on. "Martha," Diane said. "Let's try the sand linen trousers with that blazer we finished today. We'll need a top later on but Andy's t-shirt will do for now." Martha went to get the garments and Diane told me to take my pants and shoes off. I looked at her with wide eyes. "Undress?" "Yes, silly. You can't try on clothes by putting them over the ones you're wearing. Don't worry, we have models in here all the time and they are constantly dressing and undressing." I looked up at the high ceiling of the loft. I could feel my ears burning and knew that I had blushed again. Then, turning my back on Diane and Carol, I took off my denim jacket. I kicked off my sneakers and dropped the cargo pants that I pretty much lived in. Then, wearing nothing but white sox, boxer shorts and a Mostly Mozart t-shirt, I turned and faced the three women. "Oh God," said Carol, "baggy boxers. Andy, do you care at all about how you look?" I shrugged. In fact I did care how I looked, but when you're five foot five and 135 pounds soaking wet, the main thing you work on is not looking small or delicate. Carol looked at me and shook her head. "We can't try on the trousers with him in boxer shorts." "Well I'm sure as hell not going to prance around nude," I protested. "Spare us," said Diane. "Ok, what have we got for my brother to wear?" Carol laughed. "We have just the thing. Remember I bought some control panties when Ellen was modeling the sheaths for us. They'd be perfect." Carol gave me a dazzling smile and I stood there dumbly as she went and returned with a light pink undergarment. "Now go behind the racks there and change into this. Oh yes, tuck yourself in please. You don't want to get us hot and bothered." I went to change, feeling more and more embarrassed. I could hear Diane telling Carol off, catching words like "brother" and "embarrass" and "young." I waited for about a minute before coming out. The panties fit tightly on me, feeling like the swimsuit I wore in the summer. I had tucked away what little I had and presented a smooth front. The odd thing was that, as embarrassed as I was, the garment felt nice as it held me in place. Fortunately Martha quickly had me dressed in the trousers. Just as quickly she pulled them off me and handed me another pair in a different size. This time she walked around me and then brought me a low stool to stand on. "Stand erect child," she snapped and I straightened up as she pinned up the legs, took in the seat and made chalk marks all over the fabric. "Half an hour's work," Martha said. "Give me the blazer." The blazer was a buttery soft beige jacket with only one button. The sleeves were long enough to cover my hands, but Martha rolled them up until they were about three inches above my wrists. Then she pulled the waist about a bit and made some more chalk marks. "That'll take an hour." Martha stood back. "I can get it done early tomorrow. It's late and Knicks are playing. I'm going home." Martha turned and disappeared into the racks of clothing. I looked at Diane and Carol in confusion. My sister smiled. "She likes you. I know it doesn't seem that way, but Martha didn't stick you with a pin or make a nasty comment about your body, so she thinks you're OK. Take off the clothes and leave them on the table, then we'll take you out to dinner." I went behind a rack and stripped down and placed the trousers jacket and panties on the table and put my clothes back on. Carol came around and said, "Oh for God's sake Andy. You can't leave your panties like that. Take them home and wash them or something. Geez!" I was about to protest that they weren't my panties but then decided silence was the best strategy. I dropped them into my backpack and we went off to dinner. Chapter 3: It's in the Bag The next morning I headed off to NYU for a full day of classes and rehearsals. I had a friend, Carl, who was a classical guitarist with a rich baritone voice. Together we played gigs at local restaurants and we had a few pieces we needed to work on. By the time classes, lunch, studying, more classes and rehearsal were over it was 4:30. I was going to meet Diane at the shop at 6:00 for a second fitting, so I had time to stop at the Bobst Library and read a magazine. I grabbed the current NewsWeek and found a chair and was looking for the editorial cartoons when I heard someone talking to me. "Hi Andy, do you have a calculator I could borrow?" I looked up and saw Vicky standing in front of me. Vicky and I had become friends of a sort when I coached her in French and she helped me in Calc. We had gone out with others for coffee and had lunch, but it never went further than that. She was attractive in a quirky sort of way, with short wiry hair and a pug nose. "Yeah sure, let me dig a bit." I reached into my backpack and started digging and pulled out the calculator. When I turned to Vicky I realized she was staring at me in an odd way. "What was the pink thing in there?" she asked in the blunt way I knew was the beginning of a series of questions. I started to try and explain and felt my ears burning as that damn blush took over again. "It's from my sister's shop, I picked it up there, I mean, they're not for me, I was up helping, she asked me to... I mean I grabbed them for her." The more I spoke the odder it sounded. Finally I just shrugged and handed over the calculator. I sat there trying to read the magazine and occasionally glancing at Vicky. She was deep into some problem and ignored me. After a while she handed the calculator back. "So what was the pink thing?" By this time I was ready. "Some panties my sister needs for a model to wear at a show. She asked me to grab them at the shop last night and I forgot to leave them at the apartment. She'll be ticked at me for forgetting." Vicky just nodded. I wisely kept my mouth shut, read a bit more and when it was time got up to leave. "Hey, I've got some time tomorrow," I said. "Are you free for lunch?" "Sure, if it's quick. How about The Brick at 12:15?" I smiled and said I'd meet her there and hurried off to the shop. I was at the shop almost on time and Diane and Martha were waiting for me. I was quickly told to undress, and come out with panties on and "tucked in." I stood there shivering a bit and Martha tossed me an off white t-shirt. It was heavy and slightly shiny, but here and there there were irregularities and bumps in the material. I put it on and felt the fabric. "That's shantung," said Martha. "Don't stain it. That's an $85 dollar t- shirt you've got on, child." I looked at her with wide eyes. I never had spent that much on any piece of clothing except for my one suit. As I was handed the trousers and jacket I put the garments on and Martha kept reminding me to stand up straight. In a trice (isn't that a neat word) I was clothed and standing barefoot on the cold shop floor. Martha spun me around and then led me to a mirror. She stood behind me and tousled my hair. I looked at myself in the mirror. It was frightening. Looking back at me was a person, man or woman, I couldn't tell, but still me. The fact that Martha was wearing heels and therefore the same height as me didn't help the masculine part of the image. We both looked at the mirror. Carol came in at that point, nodded approvingly, and went over to a table to look at some sketches. "Don't move," said Martha, and left me only to return a moment later with a plastic bin. "OK, now stand up straight." Over the next ten minutes Martha and Diane took hats out of the bin, put them on my head, removed them and tried on more. In that short period of time I had on berets, baseball caps (Mets, Yankees and White Sox), a yachting cap, a felt fedora, in fact just about everything except a policeman's hat. Finally they settled on an old fashioned baseball cap in cream colored wool with a large blue "M" on it. I looked back in the mirror and studied myself for a moment. "I can't go out like this. I'd be mugged or raped within a block of the apartment." "Nonsense," said Diane, "you're not that cute. Anyway you won't be wearing all of this. You'll come in the trousers and blouse, I mean the t-shirt. We'll have the hat and jacket in a bag and you can wear one of your jackets over it all." I thought a moment and decided to bargain. "Hey Sis, you know that jacket I admired a few weeks ago, the leather one? You said that you just keep it around as a prop. Can I have it? I'll wear that on the way over and you can add it to my fee." "Carol, are we still needing the motorcycle jacket?" called Diane. Carol looked up, looked at me and shook her head. I took off the fawn jacket and went to the props rack and took down the leather jacket and slipped it on. The jacket was soft black leather with a red lining. It came to just below the waist and was motorcycle styled with a waist belt and buckle and a zipper that crossed it on an angle. Here and there a stud or a buckle highlighted the black leather. It had a cream colored fur collar and I thought looked extremely tough. I went back to the mirror. Carol looked over and smirked. "Oh yes, Andy the motorcycle tough. You'll attract the women alright." I thought Diane was going to say something, but she just pursed her lips and looked a bit miffed. I was in heaven however. I wanted a leather jacket, but it was beyond my limited budget. Now I had one and it was a nice one as well. Martha interrupted my thoughts. "What's Andy going to wear on his feet? He can't go in sneakers." Diane thought for a moment. "He has some nice loafers. I'll pick him up some hose in the right color. It will work out. Let's get everything in a bag to take home. Andy, I have to work with you on how to stand and move. We have four days before it's show time." Chapter 4: Up Against The Wall After classes the next day I went to the Brick to have lunch with Vicky. We got a table in the corner and ordered food. Conversation moved from school to music, to some involved story about a mathematical puzzle and then back to school. By the time lunch was over and Vicky had to go back to class (Linear Algebra??) we were starting to get really chummy and Vicky said she wanted to do this again. We left the Brick and for about a block walked together when suddenly Vicky turned and pushed me against a wall and kissed me. I was shocked and wasn't sure how to react. I had always been shy around girls, in part because of my height, and no girl had ever taken the lead. Vicky leaned back and smiled. "Hey relax. I won't eat you." Then she kissed me again and I kissed her back. We parted quickly and I realized a few people were watching us and the damn blush started up again. "See you soon Andy," Vicky said and walked off to class. I walked back to the apartment, my head swirling with emotion. I liked Vicky, and was as horny as any nineteen year old. When I did jerk off I usually thought about Carol, but Vicky could easily replace her in my dreams. I replayed the kisses again and again and it occurred to me that Vicky was shorter than me. By the time I got back to the apartment I was trying to think of what Vicky and I could do together. I didn't know if she liked classical music, or sports or what. The only thing I really knew about her was that she loved mathematics. Maybe I could invite her to Carl's and my next gig. It was a private opening at a gallery called Samuel's, but I knew I could get her a ticket to the event. I settled down to work on some assignments and managed to only day dream about half the time. Then I pulled out the keyboard and practiced for about fortyfive minutes. I was pulling out the flute to put in at least an hour and a half on that when Diane came back. "Yo Sis, you're early. What's up?" Diane indicated a large portfolio she was carrying. "I figured I'd bring some work back and get to work on your posture." "Oh don't worry," I responded. "I'll stand up straight." "It's more than that," said Diane. "It's a lot more." For the next three days, whenever I had free time, I worked with Diane or Carol. I practiced walking ("keep your feet near the center line"), standing ("one foot a bit forward and cock it out, hand on your hip"), sitting ("cross your legs at the knees, not above, and place your hands like this"). Often I just slumped at the end only to be told to stand up straight because I had to develop the habit of good posture. Sitting was no problem because I was a flautist and already had good sitting posture. In between I still had classes, phone calls to Vicky and rehearsals. I tried to remember all these things I was being told, while remembering to drop some of the mannerisms on campus. The hardest part was being told to smile all the time. The Sweet Confusions models were not supposed to have the wan world-weary look of the high fashion world. Diane and Carol wanted a nice, wholesome image. I smiled, I walked, I stood, and on Thursday evening I had an early dinner snack and prepared to go to the designer's show. I figured that I'd just have a shower and get dressed, but Diane quickly rid me of that notion. After I had shaved (not that I needed to) she combed my hair with some mousse. Then she sat me down and pulled out her makeup kit. I started to protest and got a loud earful about how I was constantly fussing and complaining. Diane let me know that I had an easy life. I paid no rent. I had an allowance. I did not have to work (I was about to tell her how hard the gigs were, but a look at her face shut me up) and that she was getting damn tired of trying to get me to help out. I sat still and nodded a bit. Then Diane told me to close my eyes. I did and was awarded with a stinging pain above them. "Ouch, what the hell are you doing?" "Shut up. I'm just plucking a few hairs. I'm not even changing the line of your brows." Again I just sat still. Diane actually did very little. She plucked a few eyebrow hairs, added a little bit of blusher and some lip gloss. Then she took two little sparkly disks and glued them to my ear lobes. "You don't have pierced ears and clip-ons are clunky. These will do nicely. Rubbing alcohol will dissolve the glue. Stand up and take a look at yourself." I looked in the bathroom mirror. The change was very subtle. In fact I could barely see the lip gloss. The blusher and plucking may have changed me, but I couldn't see how. I went to my part of the apartment (I didn't have my own room) and pulled on the panties (washed since I last wore them), the t-shirt and the trousers. When I stepped out Diane looked me over and handed me a pair of calf high smooth brown sox. I pulled these on and slipped into my loafers. Diane looked me over and smiled to show me her approval. I put on the leather jacket and grabbed the bag with the blazer and hat and we were ready to go. Much to my surprise we took a cab and on the way down Diane kept lecturing me on how to behave. I was not to go over to the buffet until Carol or she told me my stint as a model was over. I had to remember to smile. I was not to drink even though I would be offered wine. I was to smile and say no thank you. I was to hand out the pamphlets and smile. I was to stand next to Mary (the other model) and smile. Oh yes, did I forget about smiling. The show was in a banquet room in the west thirties and there were about two dozen designers each with a twelve by twenty foot space. Clothes were hanging on racks and bodies, there was a buzz in the room and the anti-smoking laws were not being enforced. People were wandering around aimlessly, grabbing each other and doing a weird type of kissing where the lips missed the cheeks by about an inch. Diane guided me to the Mercer Way booth and introduced me to Mary. She explained to Mary that for the duration of the show my name was Jean. I hung up my leather jacket behind a curtain and put on the cap and blazer. Then I went and stood next to Mary so Carol could take a picture of us. It was then that I realized a major difference between me and a professional model. Mary was at least five foot nine and probably weighed no more than I did. Also she was wearing heels so she towered over me. "Smile Jean." The camera flashed. "OK another one, c'mon have fun." The camera flashed again. Mary leaned over and whispered, "Hey Jean, just imagine pushing a pin into the butt of that fat lady over there." I looked up and started to giggle. The camera flashed. "Great," shouted Carol. "Thanks Mary," I said. The doors opened a few minutes later and the next two hours were a blur. People came by and I smiled and handed them brochures. One or two took hold of the blazer or felt the trouser materials. In the middle of it all a tall, skinny man in his forties came over and smiled at me. I handed him a brochure. I saw Diane looking over his shoulder giving me a big wink and a nod. "Hello there. So this is the new Mercer line?" he asked. As he did, he rested his hand on my shoulder. "Yes Mr. Wilkes. We are very excited about this new direction. We think Sweet Confusions compliments the more defined fashions we have been producing." I said my rehearsed speech and saw that he started and then smiled at the use of his name. I noticed someone behind him making notes. Mr. Wilkes left his hand on my shoulder for a bit and I was getting creeped out. Then Carol came up and gave him her special smile and started showing him some designs. In a few minutes it was over. Wilkes looked at the pictures and even took a dress off a rack and held it up to look at it. Some camera flashes went off and someone with a note book was talking to Diane. Then Wilkes and his entourage moved on. Diane came over. "That was great Andy. You did wonderfully. Hang around for about ten more minutes and then hit the buffet." I hung around for about twenty more minutes because the crowd around the Mercer Way booth had swollen and Mary and I were handing out brochures and smiling. Finally I looked at Carol who signaled me to take a break. The buffet had been pretty well picked over, but I still got a few shrimp and some Chinese dumplings. I was about to try champagne, when I noticed Diane watching me, so I asked for ginger ale instead. I wandered the other booths for a few minutes and stopped to look at some men's shirts. Then I went back to the booth and smiled and handed out brochures for another half an hour until the show was over. I could tell by looking at Diane and Carol that they were very pleased. They were talking in some kind of shorthand with units, dollars and dates going back and forth. Mary was standing by them and after a while they thanked her and handed her a check. Then Carol came and handed me an envelope. "One hundred. Hey Andy, you handled Wilkes perfectly. We've already had three orders and that means we'll probably get another ten or twelve over the next two weeks. You've been great. The take down crew will be here in a moment. Give me the blazer and the hat. Diane will bring back the trousers. Keep the panties as a souvenir." I handed over the blazer and hat and pulled on my leather jacket and went to find the bathroom. When I was done I wandered a bit and ended up in a dead end corridor. Just before I turned around I was grabbed roughly by the shoulders and my back was pushed against the wall. A large woman was pressing up against me and her knee was jammed between my legs. She smiled and said in a slurred voice, "Hey chickie, how about a kiss?" I tried to push her off of me, but with her leg between mine and her ample bosom pushing down on me I was trapped and feeling suffocated. She was a few inches taller than me and outweighed me by a lot. I could smell the alcohol and tobacco on her breath and her hand was fumbling with the buckle of the jacket trying to open it. "Damn it bitch, give," she grunted and pressed her lips on mine. Suddenly the pressure ended and I opened my eyes to see another woman pushing my assailant to the side. "Get off Lana. You're drunk. Scram." The first woman stumbled a bit and cursed, then laughed. "Models are getting uglier every year," she said and slouched back to the main hall. "Bitch," commented my rescuer. "I remember you. You were at the Mercer booth, Jean, right?" I sniffed a bit, being near tears. "No Andy." "Oh, like Andrea. OK. Yeah Lana likes to rough 'em up a bit. Hi, I'm Kim. I'm with Terrance and Howe, you know the booth with the giraffe in front." I smiled a bit. "C'mon," Kim said. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" I shrugged. I was thinking that this was the second time in one week a woman had pushed me against a wall. "You're not a pro, what are you?" "I'm a music student at NYU. My sister owns Mercer Way Clothing and I was helping out." Kim took me back to the hall and taking napkin from the buffet table wiped my face. "You need to fix your makeup love." We sat down and she placed a hand on my thigh. "You'll have to get used to it, especially if you dress so butch. What instrument do you play?" We talked for a few minutes and I told her about playing flute and the upcoming gig at Samuel's on Saturday night. While we were talking Diane came up. "OK, what happened?" my sister asked. Kim and I could hear the fire in her voice. "Lana Phelps," said Kim. "She came on a bit rough with your sister here. I rode in to the rescue. She's alright though." Kim gave me a kiss on the cheek. "I loved the booth," she said to Diane and walked away. Diane looked at me. "My sister?" I shrugged. "It's been a long evening Diane. Can we go home soon?" Chapter 5: Discoveries and Explorations Fridays that term were easy days. I had one class at 11:10 and the rest of the day was free for studying, practicing and getting my head ready for the weekend. I woke up Friday morning though in a mixed up state of mind. When I thought of the show I moved back and forth between the positive and negative. I loved the attention I got, but James Wilkes was creepy and Lana Phelps turned my stomach and made me feel angry. At the same time there was music, laughter, fun food and Kim seemed like a nice person, though a lot older then me. I thought about Kim. I guessed she was a few years older than Diane, maybe thirty or thirty one. She was pretty with close cut blond hair and a slender body. I of course had noticed her tits, which were nice and big without seeming overly large. My mind then went back to Vicky. I had asked if she wanted to come to our gig at the opening at Samuel's, but she was going to New Jersey for a family event. We were meeting after her classes to work out together at the student center and then get a snack before she went to pack for the weekend. The day was looking better as I thought about it. I usually slept in on Fridays and it was 9:40 when I poured myself some coffee and grabbed a roll and butter. Diane had left a note asking me to pick up the dry cleaning on the way back from NYU and added, "We'll talk more about the show." That brought back the cab ride of the previous night. Carol had headed off with some friends and a few minutes after midnight Diane and I grabbed a cab to the apartment. We were silent for a while. "Tell me what Lana Phelps did." "Forget it Diane," I responded. "Just let it be." "You're my brother Andy. I made you come to the show; I am responsible for you so don't tell me to drop it." "I'm nineteen you know." Diane looked at me for a moment and sighed. "Andy, in some ways you're a very young nineteen. I know you don't want to hear that, but it's true. Since fifth grade you've submerged yourself in music. Mom and Dad encouraged that and you like it, so I'm not telling you to play less or do something else. What I'm saying is that you've always been too eager to please others. It's easy for people to get you to do things. I'm worried about you getting hurt." "She grabbed me, pushed me against the wall and was trying to kiss me and unzip my jacket." "The lecherous old bitch," spouted Diane. I saw the cabby's head jerk. "I don't believe it. I mean she's a least forty and she has a partner. One who is damn possessive too." "Kim said she was drunk." "Kim," mused Diane. "She called you my sister. What did you tell her?" "I told her my name was Andy and she thought it came from Andrea." Diane just shrugged and the rest of the cab ride was quiet. When we got home Diane thanked me again for helping out and bid me good night. I shook my head and brought my thoughts back to the present. I pulled the keyboard away from the wall and plugged in the earphones and began a set of left handed exercises. My routine would take me almost exactly thirty minutes and then I would have just enough time to grab my books and make it to class. The day went well. Class was understandable, I skipped lunch and practiced with Carl and then went to the student center to work out with Vicky. I quickly realized that I was not in good shape. I occasionally played volleyball or jogged a bit, but Vicky was athletic. She and I spent time on the treadmills and then the stationary bikes. When we were done I was exhausted and Vicky looked as though she could start all over again. She was dressed in a tight white leotard which hid nothing and a pair of skimpy navy blue jogging shorts. Perhaps some of my breathlessness had to do with the fact that I could see her nipples through the leotard and the curve of her buttocks through the shorts. When we had taken showers and met again in the lobby we talked a bit and made a date for Monday after classes. I took the lead and kissed her on the lips which she responded to. She reached around me and hugged me and I could feel her breasts against my chest. "See you Monday about 5:30," she chirped and then jogged away with a wave. The rest of the day was errands, home work and two hours practicing flute. Diane showed up briefly to grab a dress from the dry cleaning and to tell me she'd be back very late, and then run back out. I sat for a while in the apartment trying to decide what to do with the evening. I could grab some pizza locally, or make a light dinner in the apartment. I could go back to campus and hang out. I had the money from the show and felt free and happy. In the end I just made an omelet and read the paper while I ate it. There was an article about a fashion designer I had heard Diane and Carol discuss and my thoughts went back to the show on Thursday. I smiled as I remembered Mary and Kim and snorted when I thought of Lana. My feelings of revulsion were gone and it had changed into a sorry incident. What I thought most about was how nice it was to be looked at and fussed over and how nice the soft clothes felt. I put away the dishes and looked at the dry cleaning hanging on the door. There were some shirts of mine and a sweater of Diane's. I put my hand into the bag and felt the soft wool. It was purple with hints of black and green in the yarn. The collar was slashed at an angle and oversized. I wondered what I would look in it. I thought back to Kim and how she thought of me as Andrea and wondered what it would be like to see her naked. Was she a lesbian? My thoughts wandered and I went into Diane's room and looked around. Our apartment was spacious, but it had only one bedroom. My area was an alcove separated from the living area by Japanese floor to ceiling shoji screens. I had very little in my area other than a bed and a dresser and spent most of my time in the living and dining space. Diane's room was nicely laid out. I had been in it many times, but never really looked at it. Unlike my neat space, there were clothes strewn all over. The two chairs couldn't be sat on and the drawers of the dresser were half open. The air smelled of Diane's perfume and also of her. I walked around feeling the different items of clothing. Occasionally I would pick one up and then put it down, trying to remember how it had been laying. I could feel a strange, almost sick sensation in my stomach that seemed to work its way to my spine and then to my penis. I had heard about drag queens and transvestites, but other than the indeterminate clothing I wore Thursday night I had never dressed in women's clothing. Something made me want to see what Andrea would look like. Diane was about two inches taller than me and a little thinner, but I figured it would work out. I went back to my area and stripped down and pulled the panties out of the laundry and put them on. This time it was hard to tuck myself in because I was getting an erection. I breathed a bit and thought about playing music and then shoved my now softer penis down. Then I went back to Diane's bedroom. The feeling of tension was now in my throat and I felt a little sick as I moved about looking at the clothes. I spied a dress that Diane and Carol had been talking about, saying they didn't like it. It was tossed in the corner like a rag. I picked it up and looked at it. It looked to me like any other dress I had seen. It was light green with a square collar and flecks of white in the cloth. It hung absolutely straight and was unremarkable. I stood in front of the mirror and held it against me. I looked past my reflection and noticed that the shades on the window were not drawn. Gasping I swung around, tripped over a pair of shoes and fell flat on my face. I laid there on the rug more surprised than hurt and started to laugh. After a minute or so I got up and pulled the shades, making a mental note to open them back up. The laughter had made some of the tension ease, but I still felt odd. After a bit I realized that it was the same feeling I used to get as a kid when I would sneak into the kitchen to get cookies before dinner. I stood in front of the mirror and started to pull the dress over my head. I stopped and unbuttoned the two buttons at the back and then slipped it over me, pulling it down until it was on. I looked at myself and realized that something was missing and pulled the dress off again. I looked over at the hamper and saw a brassiere on the top. I picked it up and turned it around in my hands. Diane and I took turns doing laundry and occasionally she would throw in a brassiere (she usually washed them by hand) so I knew what they looked and felt like. I took a look at the label, and it told me that Diane was a 34 B. The bra was plain, white and slightly shiny. I slipped my arms through the straps and reached around behind me to fasten the clips. After a good minute of struggling I took off the bra and thought. I wrapped it around my waist, fastened the clips and then put my arms through the straps and shrugged it onto my shoulders. I glanced about and picked up two silk scarves and stuffed the cups and looked at myself in the mirror. The bra looked a bit lumpy, but I was too excited at this point to care. I pulled the dress back on and, buttoned the back and stood in front of the mirror. I could see what Diane and Carol meant about the dress, but it still thrilled me. I turned to the left and the right to see a bit of profile. I wasn't quite thin enough for the dress and a little bit of tummy showed. I laughed at myself and said I'd have to work out with Vicky more often if I was going to wear clothes like this. Then I stopped. I wasn't planning to wear clothes like this. Andrea was a one time thing and I was enjoying the moment just as I had enjoyed the show. Then it was going to be all over. I walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, remembering to cross my legs at the knees. That felt wrong so I went back into Diane's room and searched until I found a pair of panty hose she had tossed to the side. I had seen movies where women had put on hose so I knew enough to roll the legs and be very careful not to tear them. Then I stood up and felt a thrill as my thighs brushed together. I walked about, keeping my feet near an invisible central line and felt the hose whispering back and forth. Again the slightly sick feeling crept into my stomach. I stared at myself in the mirror above her dressing table for a minute and used Diane's brush to try and imitate the way she combed my hair. Then I noticed a lipstick tube and put on some lipstick and then brushed on some blusher. I giggled because the lipstick was bright red and looked all wrong. I wiped my lips with a tissue which made them look better and stared again. "Hi Andrea," I whispered. "You look silly you know." The face in the mirror looked back at me. I pondered for a while looking at myself and wondering why I had chosen to dress up like this. It felt nice. The band of the brassiere around my ribs felt comforting in its pressure. When I moved my legs I could feel the hose and any draft in the apartment was evident under the dress. I went into the living room and sat on the couch and read a magazine for a while. Even though it was only 7:30 and Diane never got back before 11:00 I felt unsure of myself and after a short while I went back to her room and started to undress. I carefully put all the clothes back where I found them and after turning off the light I reopened the blinds. I went to the bathroom and washed my face until I could see no more makeup and then put the panties back in the laundry and put on a pair of boxers and my robe. Sitting back down in the living room I suddenly felt very lonely. I had friends to call, but I didn't want to. Diane was out and for the first time in many months I desperately wanted to be able to see and talk to my parents again. I kept replaying the scene of the policeman coming to our house to tell Diane and me that they had died in a traffic accident. I sat almost in tears trying to figure out what had made me suddenly drift into this depression when it occurred to me what had happened. Briefly Andrea had come to the apartment and now she was gone, and I missed her. I missed being her. I gasped and started to cry while I hugged a sofa cushion and rocked back and forth. Chapter 6: Discovered at the Gig Diane and I had Saturdays down to a science. Unless something else was scheduled we did laundry in the basement, major shopping, some cleaning, and by noon we were free for the rest of the weekend. Sometimes things were a little different, such as when I woke up to find that she had her boyfriend Rick over for the night. This was a normal Saturday morning. I rolled out of bed around 9:00 and found Diane already up and drinking coffee while reading the paper. We mumbled back and forth at each other until the caffeine kicked in and then Diane gathered the laundry and trooped off downstairs while I put things away and vacuumed. About 11:30 Diane went back down to pickup the dried loads and sat on the rug separating them into two piles, hers and mine. When she reached the pink panties she waved them and asked, "Hey, you want these?" "Yeah, I thought I'd frame them like a diploma." Diane laughed. "I'll take them back to the shop then." I tried to find a way to ask that I could keep them, but there was nothing to say, so she dropped the panties onto her pile and we continued folding. Diane had work to do that afternoon and I got on the phone and found a friend who wanted to go to Chinatown for a dim sum lunch. By the time I got back it was almost 3:00 and I sat around, read the mail and looked over a French essay for class. Then I wandered over to the table that we used for eating, studying Diane's sketches and looked at what she was working on. She had sketched out a simple black dress that came to just below the knees. The neckline was cut low to show some cleavage and scattered throughout the dress were dots of silver and gold. Over the dress was a slightly larger dress made of a net or mesh material. Diane looked up. "What do you think?" I nodded. "It looks nice. Is the top piece supposed to be transparent?" "Uh huh. It's a play on the standard black dress. The sequins will shine through the mesh and it has a more formal feel." I looked at my watch and commented I had to get ready for the gig. As I made myself a sandwich I realized I was wondering what Andrea would look like in that dress? I smiled at my thoughts, especially when I came to the conclusion that without cleavage the outfit wouldn't work. After eating my early dinner I took a quick shower and dressed in my music outfit. I wore black slacks, a white tuxedo shirt, but no tie, and a dark red brocade vest. Diane came over as I was packing up the flute, music stand and other pieces and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "When do you think you'll be home?" "No earlier than 11:00, Diane," I said. "We're paid through ten thirty and Carl and I may grab something to eat afterwards." Diane looked at me and grabbed a brush and recombed my hair. "There, that look's better. Have a great time, say 'hi' to Carl." This was our seventh or eighth gig and we had the routine down. We arrived 30 minutes early, confirmed the time to be played and how much we would be paid with the host. We set up our chairs and music stands, tuned the instruments, went to the bathroom and sat down to play. At 7:30 on the nose Carl began picking out a piece from Bach's Anna Magdalena Notebook and when he had played the theme once through, I joined in. Only a few people had arrived and the few who had gave us a brief look and went back to the art work. The gallery owner gave us a smile and the evening was begun. Nothing much happened until about 8:40. Carl and I had taken a break and started playing again when I looked up from the music and nearly swallowed my flute. There standing in the crowd and giving me a look of amusement was Kim! Carl noticed the break in concentration and stared over at me. I looked back down and tried to concentrate on the music. I could feel my ears burning and the heat rising in my cheeks. "You OK?" Carl whispered. I nodded and kept on playing. My mind was not on my work however, though I doubt anyone other than Carl noticed. I kept asking myself why Kim had shown up. I did not remember that I had told her about the gig and all I could think about was that the little sign in front of us gave our names, and mine was not Andrea. Bit by bit I calmed down and by the time we took our second break at 9:30 I was playing well again. I put my flute under my chair (never put your instrument where a person can sit on it) and went to get something to drink. As I was waiting on line at the bar I felt an arm wrapped around my waist and heard someone say, "So which is real, Andy or Andrea? I think I prefer Andrea." Kim was leaning against me, her breast pressed against my arm. I could smell her perfume and her hand had drifted down so it was on my hip now. "Hi Kim," I said. "How'd you get here?" It sounded lame when I said it, but Kim didn't reply sarcastically. "Oh, I figured I'd see what Andrea was up to, so I came to the opening. It's not hard to get tickets. One white wine please and what are you drinking, Andrea?" I startled at her use of that name. "Some Seltzer please." The bar tender poured us the drinks and Kim went on. "I like your music. You play very well. You look OK, but I think the butch look does better. What do you think of the prints?" I must have said something about the art, and we wandered for a few minutes. Then I excused myself and went back to work. "Wow, who's the babe?" asked Carl. "Oh, that's Kim. I met her at one of my sister's shows." "Hooiee, she has the hots for you," said Carl. "Better keep your eyes on the music or we'll get nowhere." I concentrated on the music and we played until 10:40. Our contract said 10:30, but Carl and I often went a bit over if there was still an audience because it made the host happy. While I cleaned my flute and packed, Carl got our checks from the host, and then put his stuff together. We agreed to call each other to rehearse some more and then he left. I strapped my music stand and portfolio to my folding chair. I picked up my flute and was about to leave the gallery when Kim came up to me. "Where are you going now?" she asked. "Home." "Oh it's early; I'd like to hear about you, learn about Andrea." Before I could say anything she flagged a cab and we got in the back. With the chair pressing against me I was pushed against Kim who put her arm around waist and leaned in to me. "You know, in your leathers you look really hot." I gulped. This was different from Vicky's kiss or Lana's blundering, I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't even know where we were going. Kim had given the driver an address, but I hadn't listened. "Kim. I have to get back. Diane will wonder where I am." "Oh you can call her and say you're with a friend." Kim's arm dug down behind be and her hand slipped under my backside. "Anyway you are old enough to be out for a while. Aren't you?" The cab pulled up to a small club in the 50's and we got out. I was pulling back, but Kim got me inside. "Good evening Ms. Cameron," said the maitre'd. "A table for two?" "Yes Mike, could we have that one?" The man relieved me of my stuff, though I kept the flute, and led us to a table in a corner. "I didn't know your last name," I said. "Well now you do. I'm Kim Cameron and you're something or other Lunden. You know when I saw you at the show I thought you were cute, but when I saw you afterwards in that jacket I knew I wanted to see more of you." Kim's hand was under the table resting on my thigh and her pinky was slowly moving back and forth, not quite touching my crotch. I was having trouble breathing, and Kim kept talking in a soft voice about how nice I looked, and what a good thing it was she pulled Lana off me, and how I could have a lot of fun as Andrea. The waiter came up and asked if we wanted something to drink. Kim looked up and ordered a whiskey sour and asked what I wanted, I mumbled something about a soda and she told me to have some fun. I whispered, "I'll get carded." Kim looked at the waiter, "Bring my friend a weak strawberry daiquiri." The waiter smiled, made a note on his pad and went off to get our drinks. "You won't get carded with me," said Kim. "You have to relax you know. Nothing bad is going to happen." She leaned over and I could see down her dress. She noticed and smiled as I started to blush. Our drinks came and I sipped mine slowly. Kim talked most of the time, fondling me as she did. Before I knew it we had finished our drinks and Kim was asking the waiter to get us a cab. Somehow I had agreed to come over to her apartment for brunch the next day and she had written her address on a card and slipped it into my back pocket. Kim gave the driver some money and told him to take me home, kissed me on the cheek, shut the cab's door and walked back into the club. I rode back to the apartment, trying to figure out what was going on. After years of horny loneliness three women had come on to me in the last week. Vicky had kissed me and was fun to be with. Lana had assaulted me, and now Kim was moving on me with a slow mature manner that was the most exciting of all. It was almost 12:30 when I got back. Diane was still up and I quickly said hello and dived into the bathroom. If Diane had smelled alcohol on my breath she would have gone ballistic. It didn't matter that most of the students were drinking, or that Diane had drunk and smoked pot when she was a student. My status of the orphaned younger brother had turned her into an over-protective pseudo-mom. I rinsed out my mouth, took a piss and came out. Diane was looking me up and down. "I was wondering where you were. You should have called if you were going to be late." Her voice told me that if I argued we were going to go along the same path we usually took. I was feeling too good to argue, so I apologized. "Oh, you're right. Sorry. A group of us went to the all night diner and had desert. Time just flew I guess. Sorry." Diane smiled. "Ok, do you have any plans for tomorrow?" I stumbled for a second. "Brunch with some people." Diane didn't pursue my Sunday plans and contented herself with asking about the gig. Then I said goodnight. As I was about to go behind the screens she called out, "Oh Andy, wash the lipstick off your cheek before turning in. OK?" Then she laughed and went into her bedroom. Chapter 7: Brunch Delayed I couldn't fall asleep that Saturday night. I ended sitting up in bed, looking out the window. I was trembling with excitement and nervousness. Tomorrow I was going over to Kim's apartment for brunch! From the way she had been touching me I had no doubts that something else would be involved. I finally dropped off and woke sleeping the wrong direction on the bed. It took me a minute or two to realize what was going on and my head felt a little achy. Then I remembered that I had to be at Kim's by 10:30 and it was almost 9:00. A glass of juice and a bagel was followed by a quick shower and a cup of coffee. Diane and I divided the paper between us, and then at 10:00 I waved goodbye and ran out the door hearing Diane's, "Have a good time, remember Rick's coming over for dinner. Please be back by 5:30." I wasn't sure how I was supposed to dress for a brunch so I wore a pair of nice black slacks, a white polo shirt, loafers and the leather jacket. I was so excited that I actually quivered as I sat on the subway and by the time I reached Kim's apartment on E. 34th street was nearly sick to my stomach. I looked at the building. It was a new glass and steel construction about thirty stories high. There was a fancy foyer with a fountain and nice chairs. The doorman asked me who I was there to see and when I said Ms. Cameron he told me to go on up and he'd call to let her know I was coming. The elevator hummed in a quiet manner very different from the clanking monster where I lived and the halls were wide, bright and carpeted. I knocked at 18J and Kim opened it up. She gave me a big smile. "Come on in Andrea." I walked in and looked around. Kim's place was easily twice the size of Diane's. It was decorated with modern furniture and brightly lighted. Kim shut the door, and pushed me gently against it. "This is how Lana should have done it," she whispered. Kim started to kiss me; first on the cheeks and then once on the bridge of my nose and then on the lips. First she kissed lightly and then more forcefully until she had pushed her tongue between my lips. At the same time she managed to unzip my jacket and slipped her hand under my shirt. I was expecting to explode at any moment. Then she stopped and stepped back. "Take off your jacket, Andrea." "Why do you keep calling me Andrea?" I asked. Kim came up close to me and I could feel her breasts rubbing against my shirt. "Because I want to be with Andrea, not Andy, and because you want to be with me, right?" I nodded and took off my jacket. I looked at Kim. She was wearing a white button down shirt and I could see that she wasn't wearing a brassiere. She had on a knee length black skirt and was bare foot; even with bare feet she was my height or a little taller. She was smiling with a look that chilled me. "Come here Andrea. Let's see how good a little girl you can be." Kim tossed my jacket onto a chair and to my shock began to unbutton her blouse. I just stood there staring as she exposed her breasts. Then she put a hand behind my neck and guided my lips to a nipple. "Kiss me." I kissed her nipple gently, but Kim pushed me firmly against her breast and ran her fingers through my hair. "Suck on it Andrea, suck on it." For the next ten or so minutes we stood there. I kissed her breasts and now and then Kim would pull my face up and we would kiss each other. As I kissed and fondled her she kept up a running commentary on what I was doing and how a woman would do it. Somehow she managed to get my shirt off me with out my knowing it and she began to pinch my nipples and massage my back. Kim led me over to a couch and sat me down. Smiling broadly she reached behind and did something which made her skirt fell to the floor. My heart stopped. Kim was wearing nothing beneath her skirt and as she kicked the skirt to the side she stood before me with only her unbuttoned blouse on. A patch of medium brown pubic hair was a face level to me. "Guess what Andrea; I am not a natural blond. Now a real woman would put her hands behind me and pull me in to kiss me down there as well." I reached up and for the first time in my life touched a woman's bare behind. Kim stepped closer and I could smell her. Kim put her hand behind my head and spread her legs and guided me in. "Your tongue Andrea," she said in a strange voice. "This is how women pleasure each other." After a while Kim pulled me down to the carpet and straddled me. I drove my tongue into her and licked and kissed, all the while using my hands to play with her backside or tease her nether lips. Finally she started to buck up and down and grabbed my hair grunting, "Andrea, oh God, Andrea." When it was over she lay beside me and began to unzip my pants. She pulled them down and laughed when she saw I was wearing boxers. "Girls don't wear boxers, little one." When she pulled down my boxers my erection stood straight up and I couldn't believe my eyes when Kim reached up and from a drawer in the side table pulled out a condom. I was going to get laid. Kim opened the condom and eased it over my shaft. Then she lay down next to me and kissed my nipples and bit them until I squeaked in shock. While my eyes were wide open from the jolt of pain Kim ran her hand up and down my penis and I climaxed, my hips bouncing up and down on the carpet. We lay side by side. Kim would occasionally turn her head and kiss me. We stroked each other and I was starting to get another erection. "Not now girlie," Kim said. "We have to go and get something to eat." Kim told me to go into the bathroom and clean up. When I came out she had neatly folded my clothing on a chair and beckoned me to follow her into the bedroom. I started to pick up my clothes, but she shook her head and smiled. "Sit down and wait for a moment while I get dressed," she said. I was surprised at how quickly Kim managed to get panties, pantyhose, a bra and a dress on. She was dressed in a simple black dress that reminded me a little of the piece that Diane had sketched out. It had a black ribbon sewn below the bust line and two darts in the front. "Do you like it?" Kim asked. "It's a Mercer Way design." "OK," she continued. "You can't wear boxers so put on these," and she tossed me a pair of black panties. "What?" Kim came up to me and dragged a nail down my chest, making me shudder. "Little Andrea, if you want to go out with me you have to be dressed. You see I don't want to go out with Andy." She kissed me lightly on the eyes and put the panties in my hand. I sat on the bed and pulled the panties up and tucked myself in. My mind went back to the previous week when I had done this same act for a very different reason. Kim pulled two pairs of jeans out of a bag. "I ran to our shop this morning really early and brought some things for you to try on. You see, I was thinking about this all last night." "Same here," I gulped. Kim smiled and held up a pair of jeans while looking me up and down. The jeans made me feel better. At least I wasn't going to be wearing a skirt. I pulled them on and managed to snap and zip them. "They're a bit tight Kim," I said. Kim walked around me and chuckled. "No, they're not, take them off and pull on the next pair." If the first pair had been a little tight the next were torture. Only the fact that there were zips on the ankles made it possible to pull them on. I sucked in my breath and got them zipped and snapped. "I can't wear these Kim, I can't breath." "Take small breaths, you look just fine." Kim walked around me again and then told me to unzip the pants. I did taking a big breath and was going to pull them off, but Kim put a hand on mine stopping me. She pulled out another bag and ripped open a smaller plastic bag. She took two small foam forms and held them against my chest. "Good thing you don't have chest hair," Kim laughed. "I'd have had to bite them off one by one." Kim took a small tube a smeared a few drops of liquid on the back of each form and pushed them again my chest. "Hold these firmly for a minute," she instructed. I stood there holding the forms, mesmerized by what was happening. In the meantime Kim walked around me occasionally reaching down the back of the panties to stroke my, buttocks or kissing me on the nape of my neck. When she told me to take my hands away I looked down. The forms did not look very realistic. They were also very small. The nipples however were dark and seemed to stick out a lot. "We use these when we need to add to a model's bust," said Kim. "But they'll look just fine on you. Pull this on." Kim handed me what looked like a man's undershirt. The only difference was that the white fabric had very wide ribs, the straps were wider and the neck line had some fancy stitching. I pulled it on and it stretched, fitting me like a second skin. Then Kim pulled the jeans up and zipped then shut. I looked at myself in the mirror. The breast forms were now clearly outlined by the fabric and you could see the darkness of the nipples. I remembered Vicky's leotard and gasped. "I can't go out like this." Kim came up to me and gave me a big kiss, her hands massaging my backside and her breasts pressed against me. "Oh yes you can, and you will." Kim pushed me into a seating position on the bed and knelt down in front of me. She slipped thin hose on my feet and then zipped the jeans over them. She reached in the bag again and pulled out a couple of pairs of shoes. "It helps to work at a fashion house." The second pair of shoes fit and I looked down to see that I was wearing light blue slip-on tennis shoes with a little bit of gold trim. The white hose were almost transparent. Kim led me to her dressing table and sat me down while she pulled up another chair. I had reached a state of numbness and did not protest while she put gloss on my lips, some blusher and a little eye shadow. Then she rubbed some gel in my hair and worked on that for a few minutes. "You really need to get your ears pierced," she mused. "You know, I think I have some bindi hanging about." "Bindi?" "Yes, the fancy dots some Hindu women wear between their eyes. Some of them are red, gold and black, not just red dots." Kim dug around her table for a minute and pulled a small packet of stick-on dots and peeling them off the backing pressed them on my ears. "Go get your jacket and take a look." I stumbled into the living room and put on my jacket and looked at myself in the hall mirror. I just stared. There was a tough looking chick looking back at me. Her little tits stuck out and her nipples were obvious through the fabric of her shirt. The leather jacket emphasized the whiteness of the shirt. Her jeans were skin tight and there was a little roll of extra flesh at the belt line. Kim came up behind me. "Just act like you did at the show and you'll be fine. Oh God, I could eat you alive right now." She ran her hands under the jacket from the back and rubbed them over my stomach and the breast forms. "Let's get something to eat." Chapter 8: Brunch at the Charley Dog. We took the elevator down and I chattered nervously about how I would be