Corrita Part 2 free porn video

Title II Corrita Part II. Some words at the beginning: I encourage you to start by reading "Corrita Part 1" because there is a lot of history that will make this more understandable. Briefly, Sam Haber, a financial whiz, relaxes by writing trashy Hispanic tinged romance novels. He never tried to get them published until Kate, a friend of his, encouraged him. To better understand what it is like to be a woman Kate also encouraged him to try dressing in women's clothes and Sam found that more and more his pen name/alter ego, Corrita del Barco, is taking over. Chapter 1. Suffer in Silence. I sat at my dining table looking at a partially eaten Chinese take- out meal. Only the beer had been finished, and replaced, and finished again. Some light from the kitchen came in and a table lamp was on but I hadn't felt like turning on more. I had taken off my tie and jacket but hadn't changed. I just stared at the food, and stared and stared. The phone rang and I listened as Mike left a message asking if I wanted to join him and some friends for dinner and a movie. As time passed I just leaned over, put my head in my hands and waited. Maybe if I sat without moving, if I made no noise, maybe some miracle would occur. At the other end of the table my laptop computer glowed and one of the romance novels I wrote in my spare time sat waiting for editing but I had no energy. "Fuck it." I grumbled and looked to see if there was more beer to pour. "Fuck it. I'll call Todd to ask about getting out of the publishing contract and then call Helen and tell her I am not writing anything more. I will throw away the clothes and give Kate the jewelry." Maybe it was the beer, more likely my life, but I started to weep quietly and the tears fell onto the dish. I stood up and threw away the food and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher. Numbly I noticed it was full and added powder and hit the Start button. Three nights before I had dressed up as Corrita del Barco and with Kate and her partner Lou gone out on the town. We were three women going to dinner and then stopping at a bar for some drinks. With their help I dressed in jeans, a halter top and over blouse. A-cup forms nestled in a lace brassier and black heels were on my feet. My hair was full of mousse and combed into a style that imitated a man's cut, my make-up was perfect and a thin gold necklace complimented the gold chain on my wrist. As Lou had said, Corrita was butch lesbian and looked good if not pretty. The dinner was OK, the window shopping fun and the bar, The Charles Dodgson Bar and Grill, Charley Dog to its friends and regulars, a great place welcoming all sorts from advertising executives to young couples to gays and lesbians of every stripe. We sat and drank and when Lou and Kate went to talk to somebody Hannah Peterson turned her chair around and joined me at our table. Her business card was tacked to my cork board. She had written a phone number on it. I looked at it and tried to remember what she looked like but the evening had turned into a blur. She was tall and thin and had hair so blond it was almost white. She was funny, and interesting. She put her hand on my knee. Now I sat in my apartment depressed. Just my luck; Sam Haber finally meets the girl of his dreams. They talk and she is attracted. Damn it all, she was attracted to a Hispanic woman named Corrita del Barco. It was only after I left the Charley Dog that the penny dropped. Hannah was gay. I had unwittingly flirted with her. I was stuck. Sam was in love, love at first sight. Sam is male. Hannah is lesbian. Sam is out-of-luck. Normally I would come back from my job as a financial analyst at Jerome and Fields and change clothes. Sometimes a running suit, or jeans or a skirt, but always panties, my A size breast forms and a brassiere. I would put on some make-up and brush my hair. Then as Corrita I would have dinner, maybe clean the apartment a bit and get to work. I wrote romance novels. They were in English but aimed at a Hispanic audience. My novels were racy, even erotic, without crossing over the line into pornography. Maybe my heroines had sex but if so it was only implied. They searched for love and adventure in Mexico, Puerto Rico and Honduras. Coincidentally I had taken vacations and a college term abroad in the same places. Miner House had agreed to publish my first novel, The Rialto Girls, and I was waiting for the final draft, cover illustration and all, to arrive in the mail. I was working on rewriting another novel for them. Or I had been. Now it was different. Corrita seemed a charade. The urgency I felt to dress and act as Corrita was gone. The flow of words had dried up. Usually I liked to edit my writing but now it seemed like a dry task. One thing hadn't stopped though; I was still Samuel Haber financial analyst and Jerome and Field's best blue sky, forward thinker. I could put my life into perspective and make decisions and plans. I would do it now. I washed my face in cold water and jogged in place for a minute. Then I pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote on the top "Desires". Did I want to continue writing? Probably. Did I want to see Hannah again? Yes. Could I tell Hannah about Corrita and Sam? No. If I forced myself to take action would my depression fade? Maybe. Then I wrote "Actions". Sit down and edit your novel. Find a better title than "Maria on the Pier." Talk to yourself in Spanish. Try and be Corrita again. Put off calling Hannah until you know what you are doing. I started to write down "Consequences" but stopped. "Damn the consequences for now. They say you can move the world with a place to stand and a big enough lever. Show me where to stand. It is time to move." I went into my bedroom and stripped off my clothing. As I hung up my suit and tie I looked at Corrita's side of the closet. I pulled out the wrap denim skirt. From my dresser I pulled a white turtle neck. I selected a pair of black panties and a white post-mastectomy bra. Then I reached into the cloth bag and removed the pair of A size breast forms. I faced myself in the mirror as I dressed, talking to myself in Spanish. As had happened so many times before, I watched as I transformed from normal male, to ridiculous cross dresser, to acceptable female. I felt the straps of the bra settle on my shoulders as the weight of the forms pulled on them. I felt the comforting pressure of the band around my ribs. I pulled the turtleneck over my head and noted how the small breasts moved under the clinging fabric. When I was done I put on lipstick and blusher and stared at myself in the mirror. "Not bad, not bad at all. So this is what Hannah saw. I was better dressed of course, but not bad." I put on slippers and walked back into the living/dining room and sat down at my computer. I pulled up the novel I was editing. My eyes scanned the room as the pages loaded and again I saw Hannah's business card. A minute later, shaking and in tears, I moved to the couch, hugged a pillow and wept. Chapter 2: Returning A dip in the market and the bankruptcy of an energy related business pushed Jerome and Field into crisis mode. The analysts were divided up. Some worked with the traders to see if they could recover invested funds, others to determine if this was a sign of future problems. I was asked to review the decision making process of three years before to see if avoidable mistakes were made and what safeguards we could put in place. For more than a week I arrived early and worked until 9:00 or 10:00. I reviewed memos and reports. I read newspapers and magazines from the period. In the end I straightened my tie and interviewed four people who had major roles in the decision to invest in PetroLit, Inc. I was buried in work and soon it was two weeks after the visit to the Charles Dodgson. I thought and fretted about Hannah and Corrita but was too involved in corporate finances to spend a lot of energy on my personal problems. Now it was a Thursday and I left work early to finish my project at home. I bought a sandwich from the local deli and brought it upstairs. I made a pot of coffee and as it dripped I changed into sweats and sneakers. Then I sat down at my table and looked and three folders: Petrolit Documents, Petrolit Notes, Petrolit Interviews. I sent the half-finished report to my-in box from work and now called it up. I chewed on the sandwich and sipped coffee while reviewing my notes. I occasionally read a piece of the report and noted places that needed rewriting. It felt good to be out of the office away from the phones and bustle. I decided that the first sentence of the report should not be a recap of the assignment but a catchy lead into the conclusion. "The faulty conclusion that PetrolLit would be a profitable long-term investment came about not from errors in judgment but from weaknesses in the analytical instruments available and some poor, possibly false, reporting by PetroLit management." That would both catch the reader's attention as well as settle some stomachs. I thought about the craft of writing and stood up to stretch and walk as I considered a turn of phrase. Not even thinking about what I was doing I wandered into bedroom. I broke out of my fog when I pulled a brassiere from my dresser. "OK Sam, snap out of it. You're not writing some romantic sleaze, this is business." Despite scolding myself I slowly removed my clothes and replaced them with blue panties and the bottom of a running suit. I applied double- sided tape to the breast forms and held them against my chest, not caring that my hair had started to grow back. I slid a t-shirt over my head and put on the running suit top. Then I went into the bathroom and put on lipstick. Dressed again I sat down at the computer and scanned my notes and the screen. "OK chica. Let's see what this piece of writing needs. Who do I particularly want to reach?" I leaned sideways to pick up the coffee cup and felt my breasts sway pulling on my rib cage and jiggling a bit. I laughed and got to work cutting the length of the report down and making it as readable as I could. I talked to myself in Spanish as I edited and when I stood up to stretch, one hand would stroke a breast. As I printed out the 22 pages I had written I took time to put away my plate and the coffee cup. I stretched and twirled to get my blood moving. Then I sat down for one last edit. Later as I undressed I looked in the mirror. "Welcome back honey" I whispered. "You've been gone too long." I changed into a nightgown and climbed into bed. It was the first night in over a week I had turned out the lights before midnight. I closed my eyes and thought about things. Maybe life wasn't so bad. Sure we all lost at love. I would have to live with that. Any day now my copy of The Rialto Girls would arrive from the publisher. I knew my work for Jerome and Field was good. I slept soundly waking in some confusion because it had been weeks since I had slept in a nightie. Mr. Field had me sit in the office while he looked over the report. First he read the executive summary. Then he turned to the back and read the conclusions. Finally he leafed through the pages and smiled. "You know Sam I arrived at the same conclusion the day we learned about the PetroLit bankruptcy. It's nice however to have it confirmed based on evidence. I really wanted to talk generally however. I, and I should say others, have noticed a change in you over the past couple of months. That's good. You always were a great analyst but it's as if you've cracked out of the shell you've been wearing. You talk more freely and you're Johnny on the Spot when some one needs a hand or just a shoulder to lean on." I cringed as the clich?s poured out. The gist of Mr. Field's long ramble was that he wanted me to take on some more responsibilities as a team leader. We discussed the team, what it would mean as far as my analytical responsibilities and finally the additional salary. I left his office feeling very good. As I sat in my cubicle I grinned. To me the most important thing was I would be getting an office. It wouldn't be large and probably wouldn't have a window but it was a symbol. My cubicle was drab with few personal items. I would decorate my little office. I was moving up. As soon as I had time I called Kate and invited her and Lou for drinks. They couldn't make it so I tried my friend Mike but he was going to a club with his girlfriend. None of that dampened my mood. The world was good and I was happy. Getting home I showered, shaved my legs and using a depilatory cream removed the scanty hair from my arms and chest. I changed into the woman's tailored jeans I had worn on that night at the Charley Dog. I pulled the white turtle neck over taped on forms and a brassiere. Tonight it would be sneakers rather than fancy shoes. I carefully applied my make-up remembering the order Kate had drilled into me. First base powder then blusher was brushed on. When that was done the eyes were lined and brushed with beige eye shadow. Only when I was satisfied with all of that did I apply and blot my lipstick. As I stood in front of a mirror putting on a simple necklace and a bracelet I noticed my nails. I had gotten into the habit of using clear nail polish on them and people at work assumed I was getting manicures. I took out the red polish and took the time to do my nails and watched Spanish TV while I waited for them to dry. Then I grabbed my black nylon bag, threw in a wallet, a comb and tissues and taking one last look in the mirror, realized I hadn't done my hair. Lou had devised a way that, using mousse, I could do my hair so it looked as though a woman had tried to imitate a man's style without complete success. Once she had told me "don't emphasize femininity. You'll fail. Be a butch woman trying to emphasize her masculine side, then if people think you're too masculine it's not them figuring you out, it's them not liking your style." I dithered for a bit, clipped on some earrings and grabbing a lined windbreaker went out the door waving at Charlie, the imperturbable night doorman, as I left the building. The streets were dark at 7:00 and there was a bite in the wind that made me wish I had taken a warmer coat and a hat. None of that mattered. I walked briskly but paid attention to how I placed my feet and swung my arms. Occasionally I looked into a store window. Reaching the West Village I wandered looking at shops and restaurants, ending up at a Mediterranean place called The Little Owl on Grove Street. I had to wait for a while but in my mood it didn't matter and I ate seafood and drank wine while watching the other patrons. When I was finished I paid in cash and wandered the streets looking at the different types that make up a West Village evening crowd. I was waiting for a light to change when I felt an arm around my shoulders and in alarm started to spin about. "Hey Corrita, I was hoping that you'd give me a call." Hannah smiled down at me and for the first time I realized how tall she was. A feeling of panic started to take over and she must have seen it in my face. "Oh, I see; new to all this. Can I buy you a drink? I promise it's nothing more than that." Hannah linked her arm through mine and we walked a bit turning into Christopher Street and coming to The Rubyfruit Bar and Grill. As soon as I was through the door I knew what type of place this was. Here and there I could see a man but the crowd was mostly women and a lot of them paired up. I hesitated and Hannah laughed and pulled me in. The room was crowded but we made it to the bar and while Hannah ordered a mixed drink I asked for red wine. Then we fought our way to the periphery of the crowd. We leaned against the wall and with the noise level as high as it was half talked and half shouted. It was a game that evening with Hannah probing me about who I was and me giving evasive answers. It dawned on me that Hannah saw Corrita as being new to the gay scene (well she was right about that) and embarrassed and hesitant (oh boy was she right about that). I made her evening by telling her I had saved her card. When I saw it was past midnight I said I had to get back and fought off an offer for her to walk me home. When we left the bar we walked together for a few block. "Well I turn left here" said Hannah. "Promise you will call." Then before I knew what happened she hugged me tight. I felt her breasts rubbing against the forms and her hands on my back. She leaned down and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Remember, I want to hear from you." Then Hannah turned on her heel and was gone, looking over her shoulder to blow me a kiss before she disappeared into the crowd. I came home in ecstasy approaching intoxication and when I closed my apartment door I twirled and danced in the middle of the room. Never in my life had I had such a wonderful day. A raise and an office were forthcoming, I had spent the evening out as Corrita and passed the scrutiny of many women and most of all Hannah had kissed me. She had hugged and kissed me. When I finally calmed down I reminded myself that Hannah was attracted to Corrita not Sam Haber but something was happening to me. For the first time in my life, a life marked by an analytical approach to all things, for the first time I was taking a romantic view of my circumstances. I knew, or maybe just believed, that things would work out right. Chapter 3: Belief in Belief. Word of my promotion spread through the office quickly and I went for drinks with a number of the staff, including the three analysts who would be on my team. We drank and joked. I endured numerous digs about how lucky I was and how I would now be able to fund the department's bagel fests out of my own pocket now. I looked over the small room that would become my office and calculated I was getting about an extra 25 square feet. I agreed that the desk already there would do and said I would take the chair, file cabinet and bookshelf from my cubicle. The rest of the day included the standard tasks interspersed with people dropping by to say congratulations and my looking over some long-term assignments the team would take on. Over the next few days I spent long hours arranging my work life to incorporate my new responsibilities and delegating some of the more mundane jobs I was doing. I liked the members on my team and I think they liked me. They were at least willing to give me the benefit of the doubt. One evening I took a deep breath and dressed in panties and my robe, pulled down Hannah's card and picked up the phone. I stopped and put the phone down. I couldn't call, not just yet. The next half an hour was spent arguing with myself as Sam, and again as Corrita. While I did that I attached the breast forms and walking back and forth felt their comforting tug. I sat down again and picked up the phone and dialed. "Hello." Hi, Hannah? This is Corrita, I thought I'd call. I enjoyed last Thursday." "I enjoyed it too." We talked for a while discussing nothing of importance and I said I really did want to see her again. No date was set and no commitments made but something had passed between us. I sat and felt a glow in my face and realized that I was smiling so broadly that my cheeks were sore. I hugged myself feeling my breasts and sitting listening to soft music dozed off in my easy chair. I awoke and groggily stumbled to the bathroom where I sat, peed and wiped and then deciding to leave the breast forms on, changed into the short nightie and I brushed my teeth and fell into bed. The next morning required some extra cleanup and washing but I was at the office by 8:30 and settled down to being a supervisor as well as a financial analyst. It was strange because people had always come to me for advice but before it was technical. Now three people were asking about scheduling, priorities and policy interpretations and a number of times over the first few weeks I had to go to my supervisor to ask for assistance. But on this day the problems were reasonable and time went quickly. When I got home there was a message waiting for me from Kate and I listened as she asked if I could come over to discuss something with her and Lou. She sounded serious and I worried a bit about their relationship, which had been off and on. I looked through the mail but the final proof of The Rialto Girls hadn't arrived yet. I called Kate and agreed to arrive at her apartment about 8:00 and settled down to go through the mail, pay some bills and have a little dinner. I thought about going over as Corrita but something in Kate's tone told me that this was a time to be serious and male. I arrive at 8:00 and Lou let me in. She was always reserved with me but now she was cold and Kate gave me a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. Kate waved me to a chair and sat down. Neither of them offered me a drink or asked how I was doing. Kate took a deep breath. "Sam what the hell do you think you are doing?" I knew immediately what they were talking about but could think of nothing to say. "When I started helping you figure out how to write from a woman's perspective it was innocent fun. That has changed damn it. You can't play with people or hurt them." Lou broke in. "Sam, news flies fast in our world. The gossips talk and we've learned that Hannah Peterson has a new girlfriend, a small Hispanic woman; not that pretty but striking in a masculine sort of way." "So how are you going to end this?" Kate demanded. "How are you going to drop Hannah so that she isn't hurt? And what were you playing at? You can't experiment with people. This is not some financial war game." The two of them fell silent and I had the feeling I was back in my middle school principal's office being asked to explain away some crime. I didn't try to think it out and just spoke. "I'm in love." Dead silence greeted my words. After a long pause Lou spoke up. "You can't be. You are male, no matter how you dress, and Hannah is a lesbian. Dream what you want but it won't work out." "I know." I just sat slumped in my chair. I felt the prickle of tears behind my eyes. "I know. And I know that I have to stop this somehow, but you don't understand what has happened. We all went to the Charley Dog and she smiled at me. She touched me. She said something, I don't remember what, and I was lost." I sniffed a bit and pulled a tissue out of my pocket. "I have been happy this past week; happier than I have ever been. Work is going great and there is a person who cares for me and wants me. Don't tell me about dreams and reality. I know it has to end and I will end it. I just don't know how." Kate and Lou just looked at me and then Lou asked if I wanted a beer and we sat and drank a bit trying to talk. It was uncomfortable. I knew what I wanted to say but could not bring myself to talk. If I talked it would be real. I took another sip and sat upright. "I can lie and say that I like her a lot but I can't get away from my Hispanic and Catholic background and that that is why I've been avoiding her. But I don't want to lie to Hannah. I feel uncomfortable even with the small fibs, such as telling her I support myself as a ghost writer and editor. Or I can come right out and tell her what I feel, who I am and, oh I don't know. I want to do the latter but I don't think I have the guts." Lou spoke to me in her lawyer's voice. "You have to live with your choice, but in this case it is Hannah you have to think about. You say you care for her then the logical conclusion is to do what you think will hurt her the least." Lou was always direct and I nodded. A little bit later I left and as I left Kate tried to make things easier. "Call or come over if you have to talk it out, but don't put things off. The deeper you are, well you know. I walked home slowly replaying the evening and talking to myself. No child being asked to give up his favorite stuffed toy ever held on as hard as I did to the fantasy that somehow I could figure out a way to make Hannah and I work. When I got home there was a call from Hannah and I tried to figure out how she had gotten my number. I decided it was probably caller ID. I thanked God that my answering message was short; "This is 212- 274-4881, Please leave a message at the tone." Hannah just said hi and reminded Corrita that they were going to make a date and have dinner. I stared at the phone for a while. I called Hannah back and after some chatting we agreed to have dinner and then walk a bit. After dinner when we were walking I'd state my case and ask her to forgive me. I dressed carefully that evening. I wished I had something more appropriate for mid-November. I went out the previous night and bought some tights is different colors and a slip. As usual I paid in cash and wished I had a credit card in Corrita's name. I laid out the denim dress and the tights and chose a pair that was a lighter blue than the denim. I took a black turtleneck from my dresser and laid it on top. The outfit was too dark and needed some spark but it was what I had and would keep me warm. It was bitter sweet dressing that evening thinking that this was the last time I would dress for Hannah. I had showered and decided I didn't need to shave. I attached the breast forms and put on a bra and cotton panties. Then I finished dressing and applied my makeup. This time the ritual was without any thrill. A thin gold chain with the letter C charm and a cross lay on my chest, just barely reaching the rise caused by the forms. I slipped on thin gloves and the beret and putting on a winter parka I picked up my bag and let myself out of the apartment. We met for dinner and walked. I was a coward and said nothing and at the end of the evening I let Hannah kiss me. She pulled me in close and kissed me on the lips and I opened mine and our tongues met. Her hand slipped through the unzipped front of my parka and I held it. "Not yet, please. I know I am chicken but I, I..." Hannah kissed me again and wrapped her arms around me. "Oh I just will have to wait then won't I?" Back at my apartment I called myself a hundred foul things. If another person had acted as I had I would have torn them to shreds. Now I paced back and forth. I raged at myself and at my fate. Even though I am not religious I prayed for a miracle. I made it to bed and slept poorly and then next day was irritable and left work as soon as 5:00 rolled around. Two things greeted me at the apartment. The first was a thick package from Miner House my publisher. The second was a message from my Aunt Clara in Rochester to say that I sounded so happy on our last call and why didn't I come up for a few days during the winter. Happy; ha! But Aunt Clara was right. She had raised me after my parents died and I liked her. I pulled my Blackberry out and left some tentative dates on it. Then I changed into comfortable sweats, started water boiling the stove and opened the Miner House package. There was a letter explaining this was my last chance to make any changes. There was a copy of the novel printed on 8 by 10 paper but with the printed sections the size of a paperback. And there was the cover. It was standard romance novel kitsch but I didn't care. There was a picture of a gorgeous woman with flowing back hair looking over blue waters. Off to the side another woman sat on a beach chair and read a novel. Behind them a bare-chested, tall, dark and handsome man looked into the distance. In silver letters on the top was the title and in slightly smaller letters at the bottom it proclaimed "A new romance by Corrita del Barco." I just stared at the cover for a while. I turned it over and looked at short plot summary on the back and the biographical paragraph that said nothing important but still made me sound like a very experienced woman. Over dinner I read bits and pieces of the book looking for changes. I would do a thorough read through later but for now I just enjoyed the moment. I, Sam Haber, had made it further than most writers. The book might fail but at least it would be published. I could pick it off book racks and look at it in stores. I would receive five free copies and send one to Kate and figure out what to do with the rest later. I finished dinner and got down to work finishing the rewrite job on Maria on the Pier. As always I tore my hair trying to think of a better name. Three more chapters of editing, then I would put it aside for a few days and read it again and then send it off to Helen at Miner House. When I had edited as much as I could in an evening I glanced at the clock. It was only 10:15. I could not put it off any further so I called Hannah. It was an awkward conversation, but I explained that we had to talk and I wanted to see her. I said it was about our relationship and who I was and why I was having problems. I refused to say more over the phone but we agreed to meet and walk together and if the weather was to bad go somewhere for coffee. The day would be Sunday, the time 3:00 in the afternoon and no condemned prisoner ever dreaded the passing of time more than I. Dressed as Corrita I went out and purchased a heavy wool sweater, "for a present" and a knit hat in festive colors. I tried on about six pairs of ankle high boots and settled on one with a little bit of insulation. I worked late and tried to lose myself in work but what ever I did I felt our talk getting nearer and nearer. A hundred times or more I rehearsed what I would say. I tried different opening lines and different ways of saying the truth. When I could not put it off any longer I put on my panties and forms and brassiere. From Sam's side of the closet I pulled out some corduroys that I had grown too fat for but now that I was losing weight could wear again. I chose a t-shirt, some thin brown sox and pulled the sweater over my head. Carefully I did my make up and moussed and combed my hair. I left off the earrings they just didn't seem right and then I reconsidered and clipped on a pair. I looked at the clock and sorted through some magazines and then feeling as sick as I ever had I grabbed a jacket and my knit hat and walked to where I said I would meet Hannah. She looked as beautiful as ever. Her calf length skirt and tight hip length leather jacket accentuated her height and the dark blue scarf and knit hat made her hair look even lighter. She kissed me and slipping an arm around my waist told me that my call worried her. We walked until we came to a pocket park and leaned with our backs against the railing. I drew a deep breath and said my bit. Chapter 4: Dealing With Pain When I got back to my apartment I put some ice in a bag and held it against my face. Hannah hit me so hard I had stumbled and fallen. It wasn't the blow that hurt so much, or even the look of anger, it was the last thing she said as she strode away. "Oh and don't worry about your little secret. It's safe because you aren't even worth talking about." I was too shaken to cry. I just sat. It was about 4:30 when I got home and with an ice pack on my face I sat at my table and stared at a wall. It was 7:00 when I was forced to move because my bladder demanded relief. I stared at the bruise on my face in the bathroom mirror. When I went to work tomorrow I would need a story to tell about the bruise. That should be no problem. Wasn't I Sam Haber? I was an expert on stories. I only got in trouble when I told the truth. I would say it was a kitchen accident that happened when I was putting away a heavy bowl on shelf. I would say I had a great weekend until I clunked myself on the face. I would smile, laugh and agree it was lucky it didn't hit me in the eye. I made some coffee and took out some bread and cheese and pretended I wanted to eat. Then I downed a number of aspirin. When I finished I turned off the lights and sat in my easy chair. The city sounds came through the windows and the ever present glow gave me enough room to see by. I groaned and picked up the phone. "Hi, Kate." "Yes it's Sam. I know I sound a bit off. I took a walk with Hannah today and told her the truth." "Yeah it went very badly. " "Well she hit me. She called me a piece of shit. She walked away as if I was a worthless rag on the sidewalk." "You're not helping Kate; I know I brought this on myself." "No I don't want company but thanks. Say hi to Lou." It was too warm in the apartment so I took off the sweater and the corduroys and taking my robe went back out to the living room. I was emotionally numb but could feel the sadness and anger building up. I went into the bathroom and gingerly removed the makeup and breast forms then I sat on the toilet and cleaned the polish off my nails. The shower cleaned but did not refresh me and I went to bed and tried to sleep. Work was not as bad as I expected. My story was accepted without question and though there were a few jokes it was all in a concerned tone of voice. One person told me how his wife had done the same thing with a food processor but fortunately managed to duck out of the way. I arranged to take a long weekend and called Aunt Clara and she was fine with the dates. I advised members of the team, read The Economist and did whatever I could to pretend that it was a day like any other day. Unfortunately sooner or later there were no more jobs to do and I had to go home and face an empty apartment. The next day was the same and while the pain in my face receded the emotional wound remained open. I turned down an offer from Lou and Nancy to go out for drinks and tried to finish rereading The Rialto Girls. I lost my place or found that I had stopped reading and was just staring at the book without seeing it. A wrong number call jolted me out of my stupor when the person on the other end slammed the phone down and the anger I felt made me sit up and make a decision. "Sam" I said loudly enough to shock myself "Sam Haber, are you willing to let your relationship with Hannah end on such a sour note? You hurt her badly and you know it was your fault but she is too damn important. Do something now." I reached over and pulled out a sheet of lined paper and took out my pen. I couldn't call Hannah. I would write to her. Something short, honest, apologetic and asking not that she be anything to me like a girlfriend but that she would at least agree to sit down one last time to hear me tell my story. The letter started "Dear Hannah. Please read this through to the end. It is short enough. I'll apologize before I'm through. You meant too much to me for me to see clearly and you mean too much now for me to let this end in curses and depression." In the second paragraph I said I was not trying to win her back. In the third I apologized in simple terms. Then I asked her to give me a call. I thought about it for a while and signed it "Sam Haber." After I read it over a few times and changed a word here and there I rewrote it on nice stationary. My script was small and neat and the words covered less than half the sheet. I spent some time on the web and using reverse lookup on her phone number found her address. I sealed the envelope, put on a stamp, and to make sure that I would not be able to back out of my decision went downstairs and posted the letter. I forced myself not to plan what I would say if Hannah called and resigned myself to the possibility that she never would. A few days later I went over to Kate and Lou's and we had dinner there and talked. I was happy to see that they were forming a very solid relationship and that Lou was talking about moving in permanently. Mike called and we talked a bit and I called Aunt Clara. I forced myself to finish The Rialto Girls and sent the copy back with a few typos noted but no other changes. I e-mailed Maria on the Pier to Helen and resolved not to start editing another of the novels I had written for fun and then put away. A week passed and I knew that I needed a break. I considered renting a car and driving north and seeing more of Westchester and Putnam Counties. While I was looking at a map and an AAA guide my phone rang. "Hello." "Hello, this is Hannah. Am I talking to Corrita or Sam." "This is Sam." "Alright. I read your letter. I don't know what to say but you are right we need to close this on a different note. I will meet you for coffee, but I want to meet Sam not Corrita." "I understand Hannah." "No you don't. You really do not. You cannot imagine how messed up I am. But I will talk with you and I don't know why." "Thank you." We made a date for the next evening. I suggested that she allow me to buy her dinner and she accepted. I told her of the quiet if mediocre Chinese restaurant where Kate and Lou had taken me before we went to the Charley Dog. Then I hung up and truly prayed. Unlike my desperate prayers asking for a miracle I just talked to some unknown power and asked that Hannah and I would find some peace. The next morning I called Helen at Miner House and asked if there was any chance that I could get a bound copy of the novel. She hemmed and hawed a bit but agreed on the conditions that I did not show it to a reviewer and that I got the same promise from who ever I showed it to. It turned out that the novel was already in printing in hopes to get it on the shelves before Christmas so at lunch I ran over to East 52nd Street and after swearing many oaths left with one copy of The Rialto Girls in my bag. I arrived at the restaurant in a suit and tie and took a table in the corner. I watched the door wondering what my response would be if Hannah showed up. When I saw her my heart raced and I began to sweat, yet I was relieved to see her and felt the same combination of awe, tenderness and lust I had felt the first time we met. I stood up and she saw me, nodded and walked over. We sat for a moment without talking and then I said "Thank you for coming Hannah." She just nodded and taking a menu told me what she wanted. I called over the waiter and we ordered. We sipped tea saying nothing and when the soup arrived she blew on hers and looked at me. "Tell me why it happened." I didn't say a word but reaching down beside me I lifted the copy of The Rialto Girls and put it on the table. "It starts here and then I lose control." I told the story starting with having drinks with Kate, through her stumbling on my romance writing and finding me a publisher. Finally we reached the part where Helen said that certain parts of the book sounded mechanical because I did not understand what a woman did to dress, put on make up, walk, etc. Then I described my first time dressing up when Kate helped me try on a bra and I panicked and demanded she take it off me. Hannah actually smiled when I described shopping for bras in Bloomingdales while pretending they were for a sister recovering from an accident at Mt. Sinai Hospital. Then I reached the part where we met. I had already explained how in some ways Corrita had become very real; not a masquerade. I explained how I had to dress as Corrita to write. I explained how Corrita fell in love when she saw Hannah for the first time. Then I apologized. "Hannah, I am sorry. That is really what I wanted to say. That's all." We said nothing until we finished our dinners and I was surprised to find that I had an appetite for the first time in over a week. We sipped tea and the check came. "What's your fortune cookie say Sam." "A clear sky at dawn does not predict the evening storm." I snorted, "Well I guess that's appropriate, and yours?" Hannah looked at the slip of paper for a while. "You can find your friends among those who stay with you in times of trouble." "Sam." "Yes?" "Can I keep the book?" I explained the rules of owning a pre-publication copy and Hannah agreed. I paid the bill and we stood up. Outside of the restaurant I waited to see which direction Hannah would turn so that I could walk the other way. She smiled a sad smile at me. "I'm glad we talked Sam." I nodded too close to tears to say anything else and walked away. At home I listened to my messages and showered. It had become my habit to sleep in a nightie and panties and after showering I climbed into bed with a magazine and read until my eyes burned. Then I turned off the light. About two in the morning I woke up from a dream. I got out of bed and looked around, lost for a moment. Then recovering my sense of place I went to the bathroom. I knew I would not fall asleep quickly so I went to the kitchen and put on the tea kettle. As it began to steam I thought about a recent visit to a psychologist I had been seeing. Dr. Himmel agreed with me that I needed to find a different therapist. He emphasized that while I originally went to him to discuss irritation and depression now we were talking gender dysphoria and he did not feel qualified. I agreed because I never felt Dr. Himmel really believed what I was saying. I poured the tea and thought about the dream. It wasn't much, just Corrita and Hannah sitting at the table in my apartment eating something. I tried to dig out why it had such a charge to it. It wasn't frightening and it certainly wasn't erotic yet there was something in it I had to expose. When I climbed back into bed I was closer to accepting that the episode with Hannah was over. I told myself I had done what I could to heal our wounds, pulled the cover over my head and slept until morning. Chapter 5: Confronting and Confusing I moved on and at work was Sam Haber, team leader and financial guru. My team members gave evidence that they trusted and respected me. At home I was usually Corrita. Helen sent me back a heavily edited Maria on the Pier and I edited and rewrote it. I sent it back and tried to think what I would work on next. On December 17th I received a call from Helen to let me know that Corrita's first book had been sent to Romantic Times and a few other periodicals and I should expect to see it on the shelves in a few days. I visited different stores after work for a few days and then saw it under new releases in the Romantic Fiction section of a local shop and bought a copy. Christmas came and went. I spent Christmas Eve alone but joined Mike and his fianc? and a bunch of others for a wild Christmas Day party. Then it was the year 2000. Electronic systems did not collapse and life returned to normal. We found our rhythm at work and I started attending meetings with the middle management core of Jerome and Field. In mid-January I took off a Friday and flew to Buffalo to visit my Aunt Clara. Packing, I thought about my one New Years resolution. "I will be honest with people as long as it does not injure them." I looked at what I packed and threw in a copy of my book. Then I thought some more and packed my red dress and my black heels and some lingerie and makeup. As I closed the bag I commented that as usual I was over packing but who knew. The car service picked me up and I flew out of LaGuardia. Buffalo was cold and windy just as I remembered it and I drove my rental car to my Aunt's house thinking about the many years I had lived there as a teenager. I was at a boarding school most of the time but Aunt Clara's little colonial was a refuge as was she. It felt good to pull into the driveway and ring the bell. In a way I was home. Aunt Clara and I cooked dinner and ate by the fire. We brought each other up to date and I mentioned in passing that I briefly had a girlfriend but it hadn't worked out. Later I went up to my old room and looked around. It felt much smaller now and Aunt Clara had added another bookcase. It was filled with romance novels and I was taken back to my junior year in college when desperately ill with the flu I lay in this room after being released from the hospital. I slept, I ate, I did some studying and when I got too bored I picked up and read some of Aunt Clara's romance novels. That is when my addiction began. I got into bed and tried to figure out how I would give her The Rialto Girls. If I wasn't going to lie I had to say I wrote it. How much of the truth I told would depend on how the conversation went. Aunt Clara was a broad minded person but still at 29 years of age I was not sure I trusted the reactions of a 61 year old woman. My last drowsy thoughts were to ask why she had never married and then the alarm rang with me not even knowing I had fallen asleep. It seemed easiest to broach to subject at breakfast and I commented that I hadn't given her a Christmas present and while this would not seem like much it had special significance. Aunt Clara looked at the book for a moment, thanked me and then looked at me with questioning eyes. "You see Aunt Clara the author's name is a nom de plume. There isn't really a Corrita del Barco, or sort of isn't really. I wrote the book" "What, no, really?" I smiled and nodded "Yes, I wrote that. Now I remember the romances you had around when I was in college and this is a bit, well it's racier but I thought you would like a copy." Aunt Clara came around the table and hugged me. "I'll start reading it this afternoon." "One thing Aunt Clara, I would rather you didn't tell people that I am the author." She agreed and we moved on to planning the day. It was late afternoon when we got back from the museum and I made a reservation at a restaurant while Aunt Clara went "just for a little bit to put my feet up." When she came back down she looked at me. "My goodness Sam. A little racier is not a proper description. I will say that you write well and have a good sense of what a woman feels but I am shocked by some of the passages." "Will you finish the book?" "Oh yes, but I may blush a bit while I do." Over dinner we didn't speak much about the book but when we returned to Aunt Clara's house I brought us back to the subject. We sat by the fire and sipped cocoa as the wind battered the windows. I had prepared a short speech and dove in. "Aunt Clara, I need to tell you more about the book, Corrita del Barco and about me." When I was done Aunt Clara asked a few questions and then sighed and looked at the fire. I don't know Sam. I am not going to judge you. I do admire your courage in making a choice and in telling me about it. I wish I had your backbone. I left college almost 40 years ago scared of the world. I kept to myself and accepted the life of an unmarried woman, a spinster really. I made a success of my business and found a few friends but I always hid from emotions and, I wish it were different, I hid from love." In a conversation broken by long silences Aunt Clara and I talked about our lives and dreams. The more I listened the more I wondered. "Aunt Clara, can I ask a very personal question?" "I suppose so Sam." "Are you gay, I mean lesbian?" "Oh my, where did you get that idea. Oh I see, a woman living alone, talking about not having the courage to pursue love and having no men in her life. Well that doesn't make me gay Sam, just lonely." "I'm sorry." I decided not to suggest her meeting Corrita and we went to bed in a melancholy state. The next morning as I prepared to drive back to the airport we talked further. Aunt Clara was sounding better and we laughed and planned on her visiting me in the spring. I closed my suitcase kissed her goodbye and landed at LaGuardia only 20 minutes late. Back at my apartment I listened to messages, unpacked and tossed the laundry into the hamper and the dry cleaning on the floor of the closet. Then I went out to sort through Friday and Saturday's mail. The junk went into the wastebasket, bills and personal business into the little wicker basket on the desk and then I was looking at a mustard colored envelope the size of a Christmas card. I turned it around to look at the return address on the back. There written in slanted print: Hannah Peterson Apt 3 J 311 E. 12th Street New York, NY 10003 I held the envelope in my hand trying to figure out what it was. It was the size of a Christmas card but it was January 18th. It could be a formal invitation but those usually had the return address printed on the envelope. I was trembling as I slipped my letter opener under flap and slit the paper. A card fell out. It wasn't a Christmas card, just a picture of some flowers. I opened it up and a folded piece of paper fell out. Inside the card in the same odd print Hannah had written "I have been thinking about us." I was too nervous to unfold the paper and wasted time by going to the bathroom. I walked around the apartment and tossed out some old magazines. I sat back down and unfolded the paper to see that it started "Dear Corrita,". I turned the letter face down. I was too nervous to read it. I was planning to go out for a bite but my stomach was churning. I walked back and forth trying to imagine what Hannah had written. Hope competed with fear and then a thought arose. She had written not to Sam but to Corrita. I went into my bedroom and took off my clothes and then did a sponge bath to freshen up. What would Corrita wear now that she had come back from a trip? Panties, yes, a brassiere, probably not, but she would wear a robe. I taped the forms and pressed them against my chest. I slipped into a pair of silk low cut briefs and took the blue robe out of the closet. I picked up my slippers and put them on wishing I had nail polish on my fingernails and toes. Back at my desk I stared at the paper praying that it would say something nice and then turned it over to read the words, good or bad. "Dear Corrita, For weeks now I have been thinking about what happened between us and that dinner at the Chinese place. I read your book and have stewed over our past and my present state. I know what you are and I know I could never become attached to Sam but I am desperate to see you again." I stopped and took a deep breath. I was almost dizzy to the point of nausea. When I calmed down enough I read the rest of the letter. Hannah was clear about the boundaries she wanted. She only wanted to see Corrita. It was to be as friends. There was to be no hint of sex. The limitations did not matter to me. Just the fact that Hannah was willing to see me, or rather Corrita, again was all that mattered. I picked up the phone and called her number and of course reached her answering machine. "Hi Hannah. It's Corrita. I just read your letter. Of course I want to see you. I've been dreaming about it for so long. Please call me. You have my home phone number but here is my cell phone number, and don't be alarmed if Sam answers. He'll just have to call me to the phone." I managed to stop before saying "I love you." I managed a cup of tea and some crackers and sat on the couch swinging between laughter and tears. All I could keep saying was "Hannah wants to see me." The phone rang and I jumped to it but it was Kate to see how my trip went. I talked for a while and she asked if I was OK. I reassured her but said I was waiting for an important call and would talk with her later. The rest of the evening was spent pretending to be doing things while waiting for the phone to ring. I shaved my face and then in the shower went over my legs and arm pits with a razor and used depilatory cream on my chest and arms. Stepping out of the shower I put on a terry cloth robe and went to look at the clock. It was only ten so maybe Hannah would still call. I delayed going to bed, watching junk on TV and finally when it became too painful to stay awake slipped between the covers, sleeping naked for the first time in months. At work the next day I was jumpy and nervous. I kept hearing my cell phone but it was always some other sound. I had finally calmed down when in the late afternoon I heard the theme from the William Tell Overture and grabbed my phone and said hello. "Hi is this Sam or Corrita?" "Corrita. Hi Hannah, let me close my door." "I've really been sweating this out Corrita and I'm probably an idiot but I want to see you." "Hannah I am so glad. I was feeling terrible about what I did to you and I didn't feel like I really made you understand how much I regretted what.." "Oh quiet. You'll make me cry and I'm at work. Corrita I don't want to hear apologies, at least not now. Will you meet me for a drink?" "Of course." We agreed to meet a 7:00 at a bar near my apartment and I tried to settle down and concentrate on my work. I answered the last of my e- mails and wrote the last memo at 5:15 and dove out the door getting home in time to change with out rushing. As I looked at my closet I knew I just didn't have enough clothes. I had to improvise to come up with an outfit that fit a mid-town bar and was warm enough for January. I put on a pair of men's grey wool slacks and hiked them up a bit to show more ankle than was correct. Or at least it was too much for a man. I took the forms and slipped them into a mastectomy bra and pulled on a plain white shirt. Then in a moment of inspiration I grabbed a fancy scarf, one of the first things I bought for Corrita, and knotted it around my neck sort of like a cravat. I put on the light black sweater and the knit hat and looked at myself. It wasn't classy but would have to do. Taking off the scarf and the hat I spent time carefully applying makeup and doing my hair. I made a note to buy more mousse. I clipped on earrings and put on a gold chain bracelet. I walked back and forth and looked at myself in the bedroom mirror. OK, it would pass. Then I slipped on the ankle boots, tossed some stuff in my bag and grabbing a parka and gloves went downstairs and out of the building to meet Hannah. The wind was biting and I was glad that I had chosen slacks rather than a skirt or a dress. Even with a decent parka I felt the cold and my gloves were not thick enough. I only had a few blocks to go but by the time I reached the bar I was chilled. Hannah had obviously just walked in and she put her coat in the back of a chair and came over and gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. I followed her to the table and the waitress came to take our orders. "Corrita, is red wine the only thing you drink?" "No I also drink beer. I like your sweater." "Thanks." We made small talk and avoided anything remotely personal for a while. I sipped my wine and wondered if I should suggest ordering some food. I was trying to make up my mind when Hannah changed the topic from local politics to personal politics. "Corrita, if I were to say I want to be friends again could you deal with it?" "Oh yes. I mean it won't be easy, I guess it won't be for either of us, but yes." "The thing is Corrita that I've been charging around and going home with odd types because I was trying to force you out of my skull." "Types?" "Yeah, women I mean, but you know.." "No." "Let it be." "OK Hannah." She decided we needed to eat and we ordered from the limited menu and sat and drank and tried to start from scratch. Something though was odd and I knew that the tension was related to the Sam Corrita interface. "Hannah, just go ahead and ask." For the first and last time I saw Hannah blush. She smiled ruefully, shook her head. "Your tits, they aren't real are they?" "No store bought." "When you're dressed up do you use the ladies room?" "Uh huh." "Do you get turned on by dressing up?" "I don't think so. I've been seeing a therapist and I am switching to one that deals with gender issues so I've hashed this about. I feel comforted. That is the best word. I feel complete and warm and, oh I don't know, I feel sort of hugged. I do get aroused but, well it's not by the clothes." I felt my ears burning and Hannah looked at me wide eyed for a moment. "Oh gosh, Oh. Damn." I just nodded. "I'll never force myself on you." We finished our drinks and I offered to walk Hannah home but she said no. When we reached the avenue I was about to say goodbye when I heard her curse. "Oh hell, oh shit. I don't care." She grabbed me by the back of my neck and drew me in for a long kiss. Our tongues met and we clutched long and hard. When we broke apart I stared at her. "What happened to boundaries and no hint of sex?" Hannah just kissed me again, a brief peck on the lips, and ran from me. I think I saw tears in her eyes as she turned. Chapter 6: Full Approval Kate and I managed to have a quick drink together. I gathered everything was going well with her. I assured her I was doing well and she agreed that I looked good. I did broach one problem. "Kate, I need more clothes and I want to shop for them myself, though I could use some guidance from you. The thing is I can't use my credit card. Do you know anything about this? I mean I'm a financial whiz but I usually deal with millions of dollars and bank to bank transactions." Kate looked at me like I had two heads. "Yeah, I mean that is easy. We can get a card for Corrita and Sam Haber will be a consignee and guarantor. I'll have someone at my office handle it all and we have connections with a bank so you won't even have to come in to sign the forms. You can handle it all by mail. People do it for their college age kids all the time." We talked for a few minutes more about credit levels and then mutual acquaintances and Kate left to join Lou at a business function. A few days later a packet arrived at my office and I signed some forms as Sam Haber and a few more as Corrita. Now, in a post 9-11 world, this wouldn't be possible but things were more relaxed back then. Hannah and I talked on the phone and I agreed to visit her at her apartment sometime. In the meantime we walked at Rockefeller Center until we were frozen. We had coffee. We exchanged brief chaste kisses and promised to keep seeing each other. Work became more intense and I spent longer hours getting in before 8:30 and rarely leaving before 6:00. Occasionally I ordered in a sandwich and worked until 8:00 or 9:00. I talked more often with Mr. Field and on the rare days that Mr. Jerome came in, he had retired many years earlier, he now recognized me and nodded. Then one day a plain envelope arrived and I opened it to find a MasterCard in the name of Corrita del Barco. Statements and bills would come care of Samuel Haber. I had a $1,500 credit level. I was excited and ready to shop. My first stop was Yesterday's Garden where I had purchased my nightgowns and some other clothes. I liked going there because Will would greet me and we'd trade innuendos. Will looked gay as a jaybird and was married to Carol who I hadn't met. This time I walked through the door to the tune of the chimes they had hanging and was greeted by a tall severe looking woman. "Hi is Will around?" "No, can I help you?" I was put off by her manner but did need help so I said I was looking for a somewhat dressy, but not formal winter outfit. As she led me around the shop she told me she was Carol. I introduced myself as Corrita. I kept comparing Will's effusiveness and wild clothing to this school marmish stick and could not see how they could be a couple. What ever I thought of her, her eye for clothing was superb and I bought a grey wool knit dress, another sweater, a short and a full slip and a blouse. I kept reminding myself that I was in a used clothing shop but everything seemed in perfect condition. I paid in cash and went home stopping to scan the magazine rack of a local store. At home I hung up my purchases and saw that no one had called. I changed from my corduroys and heavy sweater and putting on my robe sat to look at the many edits and corrections made to "Maria on the Pier". I closed my eyes and tried to think of a better title. Maria was a secretary at a shipping firm with an office on a pier in Jersey City. She went to Mexico to see the grand parents she had never met. There she bumped into James a sexy if inept Anglo. She was small and slender and didn't consider herself particularly pretty. Then James came and changed her mind about a lot of things. Was he a blessing or a disaster, well the readers wouldn't be able to find out until the end of the book. "Maria in Love", no to corny; "Anglo Love" no that would do for porno; "Hot nights in Juarez", no that was worse. I put words down on paper and finally gave up going back to editing and rewriting. Suddenly it came to me and I wrote "The Sunsets in Juarez". I stared at it and crossed out the "The". OK, there was a title we could use. When I had done as much as I could I opened the new Glamour magazine and leafing through the pictures stopped to look at an outfit. The model was wearing closely tailored medium grey pants with a window pane check in a lighter grey. A grey mohair sweater clung to her figure. The collar of the sweater folded over itself but was cut so low in the front that without the folds she would have exposed her undernourished body. Fortunately a horn button held the two halves together. It was elegant and sexy without being overstated. I checked where it was available, shuddered at the idea of spending over $500 on two pieces of clothing and then resolved to go the Sax Fifth Avenue as soon as I could find the time. Looking at the slacks I realized that they were cut close enough that my panties would not provide enough protection. I had spent my time on the web and learned some things, so sitting at my computer I pulled out Sam's card and ordered three gaffs, one in white, one in black and one in pink with lace trim. Kate and I met again for coffee on neutral ground and fenced with each other about who would visit whose apartment first. I could tell we were both excited and frustrated but we couldn't stop meeting. My biggest fear was that news would work its way back to Kate and Lou who had been very angry at me for leading Kate on and not telling her about Sam. About a week later that fear was laid to rest. Kate and Lou were invited to a gallery opening and insisted I, Sam, join them. I reluctantly agreed because I am not a sophisticated art consumer. I went anyway, knowing I would eat and drink well. The opening was at 8:00 and I was dressed in a suit, sipping wine and talking with Lou when I heard my name called. I turned and saw Hannah waving at me. She made excuses to the people she was with and came over. I introduced her to Lou was totally frozen. Then Hannah and I moved around the gallery. She was excited by the art. I saw blobs of gray and black on backgrounds of swirling grey and black. When Hannah went back to her friends, Lou and Kate were together and gave me a long hard look. I smiled. "I apologized and we, that is Sam and Hannah, had dinner. It took a while but we like each other and are friends. What are you two staring at?" Kate pulled me aside and Lou followed. "Look Sam I am glad that you and Hannah have made up but do you realize what you were doing?" "What I was doing?" Kate just stopped but Lou stepped in with her quiet authoritative voice. "Sam, as soon as Hannah laid her hand on your arm you morphed into Corrita. Oh you are wearing a suit and tie and clunky black oxfords, but your body language and voice were female. Pure and simple female." "I didn't realize." Kate laughed. "Well if it had been anywhere else, where people were not so absorbed in what they looked like, someone would have noticed other than us. Come on Lou I want some more of those shumai dumplings." The next day I came in a bit after 9:00 and left a little early. With the hours I had been putting in no one complained. I was in late because I had visited a new therapist and left early so that I could change and go to Sax. Dr. Himmel had suggested three doctors and I chose the one that could meet with me at 8:00 in the morning. I was nervous as I sat in Dr. Harper's waiting room. Others sat around reading newspapers or magazine and studiously ignoring each other. Finally a door opened and I heard "Sam?"