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The Proper Ingredients. A word before: Originally this story was going to be called Carla the Magnificent. I changed the plot and Mike's character part way through and after rewriting the story could not find a good title. It is strange but when you work with a character long enough they gain a life of their own and watching Mike evolve was part of the fun of writing this. Enjoy. Chapter 1: Vichyssoise and Brocolli While the leeks cooked in butter I peeled potatoes. The peeler slid through the skins and there is real satisfaction in seeing a long strip coming off and falling into the strainer at the bottom of the sink. The radio played something forgettable and I was starting to feel more at peace with the world. I had taken a half day off from work. That in itself was good because I was working long hours and some weekends. Then again that is the life of an IT person. Someone needs a new report; another person can't remember how to print a document. I took the time off from work so that I could be alone at home. The previous night I had a fight with my sister Anne. Perhaps I should say yet another fight with my sister Anne. In some ways we were joined at the hip back then. We worked at the same company, she in Finance, me in Information Services. We shared a rental house because between our salaries we could afford a nice place with a mother-in-law suite. We both were trying to leave behind the lives we grew up in; lower class, lower wage, lower ambitions. And usually it worked well. Even my cross dressing was not a problem, or not a big problem. I am pretty restrained at home and when at work I limit myself to clothes that hint at femininity rather than shout about it. I turned to stir the leeks in the pot and felt the lightweight skirt move against my legs. I replayed the previous night's row in my head. It was one we had had numerous times. Anne came home to discover me in a dusty pink running suit vacuuming the living room rug. The downstairs bathroom was spotless and she could hear the washing machine churning its way through a load. "Your vision of women is something out of a fifties sitcom" was one of the milder things she said to me. "Dressing and acting the obedient housewife is probably some way of you taking revenge on women like our mother" was one of the nastiest. Of course I lost my temper and suggested that Anne should have been born in the fifties and stood on a corner waving a burning bra. That was followed by a veiled reference to her large breasts which she was always trying to reduce by dieting or diminish through her choice of clothes. Needless to say, by the time I went upstairs to eat alone we were both pretty steamed. I thought about having breakfast upstairs but instead acted civilized and came down. We ate a silent meal together before I sat back to read the paper and Anne, ever the bright eyed one, headed off to work. I cleaned up that morning and went upstairs thinking about our living arrangement. It seemed an obvious solution when I, straight out of college, joined Anne at House Associates a contract management firm owned by a distant cousin. Anne, five years older than me had finished her MBA and was now firmly entrenched in the finance section and I, a pretty good programmer with a grasp of security, joined the three person IT office. So, with both of us working at the same company, both of us earning good salaries, there seemed no reason for us not to rent a house together. Our Elm Street colonial had two bedrooms and two baths, plus a mother-in-law apartment with a bedroom, bath, kitchen alcove and another small room that served as a living/dining/exercise/TV room. What we hadn't planned on was the difference in personalities. Anne already knew about my cross dressing and wasn't upset by it. What did get on her nerves was my laid back view of life. I was happy with a good job and wanted at some point, maybe, to run an IT shop. Anne had her eyes on being the next CEO of House Assoc. or if not that then of some other company. I believed that if you worked hard and were reasonably pleasant you would get ahead. Anne was a schemer always looking for some edge or advantage. I cut the potatoes into chunks, tossed them into the pot and added chicken broth and a dash of curry, salt and pepper. Tossing the peels into the garbage I wiped my hands and leaned against the table. Perhaps it was Anne reacting to Mom and Dad. They were sweet people who had done everything in their power to raise two kids they didn't understand. Dad went into the army after high school, learned how to repair diesel engines and worked for the county transit authority from then on. Mom took a few secretarial courses and after a couple of jobs settled into clerking at a food wholesaler. Neither had any ambition beyond owning their little cottage and getting along with the neighbors. I remember last summer on a fishing trip with my dad, a love of fishing was the one thing we had in common, when he commented how he had everything he wanted. He and Mom were even reconciled to my cross- gender lifestyle, though grateful that when I visited I wore jeans. They were proud of Anne and me and now were looking forward to retiring in a few years and basically doing nothing. I was thinking about the gaps between parents and their children when the phone rang. "Hello, yes I came home early. Ok, we'll talk about it later. What, oh, how many? No, we can manage. Call me back in about five minutes and I'll let you know what you need to pick up on the way home. What, hey what ever is best. OK I'll decide." I sighed and then laughed. Anne might complain about her fifties housewife brother but when the shit hit the fan she called him up anyway. Somehow Anne had been roped, or more likely volunteered, into throwing a dinner for two visiting business types, her supervisor from Finance and a local banker. I looked at the clock. I had four and a half hours to come up with a nice dinner for six people. Anne might be panicking but to me, Carla the Magnificent, it was just a challenge to be handled. I looked in the fridge, the freezer and the cupboard and when Anne called back gave her a list including steaks, bread, broccoli, flowers, berries and more. Then I took out a pad and laid out a schedule of events. What I kept thinking about was one comment Anne had made, "Feel free to be Carla, the others know about you and they won't have a problem. So wear a nice dress if you want." Maybe I was paranoid but I translated that into "I've told them about my weird brother and they can't wait to see you." When Anne came in an hour later I could see the nervousness consuming her and could not help but play on it. I looked up from my magazine, indicated that the mail had come in and asked about her day. She threw herself into unpacking and gave me a desperate look as I sipped my iced tea and told her about an article in Newsweek she should read. Finally I relented and set Anne to work neatening up the house. There really wasn't much to do until about five thirty so I put the steaks in a plastic bag with some raspberry wine barbeque sauce and moved some beer from the basement into the fridge. Then as Anne tried to explain to me why this dinner was so important I nodded, set her to work putting the berries through the blender and sat down, picked up my iced tea and went back to reading. When the little sandwiches with wasabi mayo and cucumber had been made, and the shrimp boiled, shelled and put on ice, and the cheese taken out of the fridge to lose its chill, I took a deep breath and looked around. The place looked good. The flowers were in a nice vase and the table was set. I could shower and change. Upstairs I took off the flower patterned t-shirt I was wearing and stepped out of the cotton skirt. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and stopped and looked. A man looked back, but it was a man in pastel yellow panties, ankle sox and a white lace brassiere. I unclipped the brassiere and tossed the light foam forms onto my dresser. Stretching a bit I stepped into the shower and let the water run over me. As I closed my eyes and faced into the spray I considered what I should wear that night. Anne seemed to be hinting that the people were looking forward to seeing Carla but I still was smarting from her comments the night before. I toweled off and went into the bedroom. Ten minutes later, wearing loafers, men's chinos, and nice short sleeved shirt, I walked down the stairs into the shared area of the house. Someone looking closely might notice my watch was too small to be a man's watch, or that my hosiery was sheer. I had even changed my earrings from the diamond chips I normally wore to plain gold studs. The only makeup I had on was a faint touch of lip gloss. I went into the kitchen and said, "Hi Anne." As I hoped, I had put her in an awkward position. She could hardly ask me to appear en femme without explaining her motives, nor could she ask me why I was wearing what I called my "Visit the parent's and drink at the bar clothes." She just nodded, pointed at the clock and asked "Isn't there something else we should be doing?" "Nope. I'll turn on the grill now and then we wait for the guests. Relax, have a drink, everything is under control." When the first guests arrived and the introductions were made Anne settled down. I opened up a bottle of white wine and offered beer. People sat back, commented on the house and relaxed. It was a nice evening and I deliberately tried not to act the hostess. That was hard however and I found myself doing most of the work, not because Anne wouldn't but because I would shoo her away and grab the salad, or open another bottle of wine. The two visitors were a man and a woman in their forties who worked for a major architectural firm. He looked and dressed like a movie oil baron and she made me think of the librarian in my old high school. Anne's supervisor was bland, the banker forgettable. The dinner was praised and rightfully so. We had vichyssoise, salad, grilled strip steaks, rice, bread, salad, roasted broccoli and ended with angel food cake with raspberry puree and fresh whipped cream. The Texan type noted down the name of the barbeque sauce and the librarian wrote down the recipe for the broccoli. Later, when our guests were gone and most of the dishes were put away Anne and I sat in the living room and relaxed. "Thanks bro. I don't know how you can pull something like that together without seeming to break a sweat." I smiled a little and nodded. Anne looked up at the ceiling. "OK Mike. I'm sorry about what I said yesterday." "Me too Anne, I got nasty as well." I waited to see if she'd say anything. "Anne." "What?" "We have different goals and we are different people. Don't push me OK." I kissed Anne on the cheek and went upstairs. Stripping down I had to laugh. My clothes might have said "male" but the light blue boy-cut panties sure spoke to something else. I washed up and slipping into light cotton pajamas climbed into bed and slept. Chapter 2: Fish and Leftovers Saturday morning I woke early and stretched. Sitting up I looked out the window. It was warm for early June and I had to decide whether to go fishing or ride my bike. To keep in shape physically I should ride. To keep in shape mentally I should fish. Yawning I got the coffee brewing and hit the bathroom to pee and splash water on my face. "Check the weather and then decide" I mumbled. Coffee cup in hand I sat down at my computer and pulled up the weather. "Fine throughout the day so I'll fish in the morning and cycle in the afternoon." By the river the men were already gathering. I pulled my chair, rod and box out of the car and joined them staring at the water. "Morning Mike." "Hi Sam, yo Pete, how's it going." The banter flowed back and forth and seven men tossed lines in the water and sat back. Most of us hoped we wouldn't catch anything. Hooking a fish would force us to move. Saturdays on the Sand Kill River were for reading the paper, catching up on local news and letting the tensions of the work week slide away. Mort, who had been coming to the river for 17 years once figured out that the informal club had been gathering since the early 70's. Each of us had a routine. Mine was to plunk down my chair, usually near Pete, lay down my rod and tackle box and then sip coffee for at least fifteen minutes before I even pretended to fish. Pete, who worked at a car rental firm, would toss his line in the water and eyes half closed watch the bobber while listening to music on his ear buds. If you spend along time with others you learn a lot about them. I knew that Rick drank too much and was separated from his second wife. They knew that I was probably gay and dressed "way too swishy" as Mort once said. We all knew that Frank had spent two years in jail. It didn't matter though. Here on the riverbank we were just a bunch of guys performing a ritual as religious as anything we did in church. "Hey Jew boy." Mort turned to see Al coming down from his car. "What's up wop?" The two had been in Viet Nam together and as long as I had known them started every morning the same way. Pete, who was bothered by the badinage, shook his head and grimaced. Then everybody settled down and got to work doing nothing. That afternoon as I sweated out the miles on my bike I thought about the different communities I inhabited. Not for the first time I thanked God that I was surrounded by nice people. That doesn't mean I haven't had my problems. Once I was beaten up by two oafs. I was able to identify one and pressed charges. Another time as I left my favorite bar someone shouted "fag" and jumped me. Pete was leaving right behind me and the two of us bounced the punk off the side of the building a few times before letting him go. Mostly however I was cruising along, living a halfway life more because it was comfortable than because I was afraid to make some definite move. As I slowed down to turn into our driveway I sat up and shook the sweat out of my eyes. I might cruise in life but I pedaled hard on the bike. Now it was time for some lemonade and a shower. After I had showered I stood naked in my bedroom and tried to decide what to wear. I had nothing to do and nowhere to go. Grabbing a pair of cotton panties I slipped them on and tucked myself away. It was too warm to wear a brassiere so I just put on a pair of shorts and a bright yellow polo shirt. Slipping my feet into sandals I went downstairs to check on the mail. The bell rang and I opened the door to let in Jack, Anne's current boyfriend. Of all the disagreements we had, Jack was the biggest. Anne thought he was fun and handsome. I really disliked the guy. Whenever he was around I was on edge waiting for him to make some disparaging remark or innuendo and he rarely disappointed me. Today he limited himself to asking if he had seen me riding along Cutler's Road and then commented on the weather. Anne came in, kissed Jack, said hi to me and as I gathered up my mail and disappeared I could hear them discussing dinner plans. Mail in hand I sat back in my little space and tried to decide what to do for the rest of the day. One downside of cross dressing was that I had a tendency to shut myself in. I flipped through the newest issue of Elle and tossed the one bill in the bill box to be paid later. Thinking about the remaining day I reached over and grabbed the phone. "Hi Mary, uh huh. Yes. Nothing much. Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? What, left over steak and stuff. About seven. Fine. What. I hadn't really thought about it. OK, see you then." I liked Mary. We had met at a LGBT meeting a few months earlier and had laughed at the fact that we could share clothes. I was a size 10 back then and so was Mary. Actually most of our clothes wouldn't work for each other. Mary needed room for B cups and I barely showed anything up top. She was dark skinned with rich auburn hair and I was sandy blond. We talked for a while at the meeting and felt a kinship. We both shared a laid back sense of humor which did not involve insults or denigrating remarks and we both liked to cycle. After the meeting we had dinner at a local diner and a friendship was born. Going down stairs I rescued some leftover steak, salad and broccoli. I also grabbed a bunch of grapes and some crackers. Then I sat back down in my favorite chair. I opened up Elle and with my legs draped over the cushioned arm prepared to laze away a few hours of well deserved solitude. I let the hours roll away until about 6:00 when I checked the beer supply and neatened up the place. Then I went to change. Mary was the only person I felt completely comfortable with when fully living the role of Carla. Anne often saw me en femme but I was always waiting for her to make some critical remark. Mary just didn't care. Facing my closet I pulled out a summer dress I liked. It had thin black and white stripes with a bright red belt. The top draped from the shoulders crossing mid-chest so I needed a little bust and cleavage but I had ways to deal with that. From my dresser I took two silicone filled half moons and using a few drops of adhesive affixed them below my nipples. Clips on the forms were joined by some elastic which pulled what little flesh I had into the center giving me a hint of cleavage. Not for the first time I wondered if I exercised too hard and was too lean. A little more up top would make life easier. The foam forms and a lighted padded bra followed and suddenly (or actually after a bit of effort) I had a solid A cup. My tan sandals were kicked aside and I put on white sandals with one inch heels. Looking at myself in the mirror I was pretty content. Sure I was still a man in women's clothing but not grotesque. A few minutes later I had small gold hoops in my ears, a touch of lipstick and concealer. I added a thin gold chain necklace and was happy with what I saw. "Stand your ground. You've chosen your lifestyle and shouldn't have to defend it." "I stood my ground." Mary and I were hashing out how to deal with Anne and Jack. The first half of the dinner was spent solving Mary's problems with her ex-girl friend. Now it was my turn and I was finally able to put my finger on what was bothering me so much. "Anne is such a striver. It sounds old fashioned I guess but that's the right term. I've told you she wants to be the next CEO. Hell I think she wants to be in Jerry's will." Mary poured another glass of wine and I raised my eyebrows to indicate that I knew she still had to drive home. "I still don't get the relationship between you two and Jerry," "Oh. Well he is a second cousin once or twice removed, I think. Let's see. My mother's oldest cousin is his mother. Whatever. We have got to be related because with the exception of Anne and me he has the only brains in the family." "Such modesty." "Yeah but true. See about fifteen or sixteen years ago Cousin Jerry bought out Martin House the original owner of the firm. There were about ten employees back then and it was one step from bankruptcy. Now it is making a profit, there are about 70 employees and Jerry is very well off." "And Anne wants his money?" "Well he never married, has no close family, so she thinks, why shouldn't she benefit. It is like something out of a Victorian novel with the different cousins scheming over the old uncle's riches. Except that Jerry isn't all that old." "Oh I had the image of an old man." "Nope I think he's 51. Or maybe is about to turn 51. So if she hopes to inherit anything it will be a long way off." I let Mary out the front door, giving and getting a kiss on the cheek. Going back in I heard Anne call to me and walked into the kitchen where she and Jack were sitting. "Wow, now don't you look pretty." I gave Jack a cold glance and then a neutral one to Anne. "Hi Mi... Carla. Are you going to church tomorrow?" "No, I thought I'd get out for a ride in the morning. It's supposed to rain later. Why?" "Nothing, I'm not planning on attending either and I borrowed a book from the reverend. I'll return it next week." I said goodnight and ignored Jack's wink. Back upstairs I sat down in the couch and thought of something Mary had said. "Trying to get ahead isn't bad Carla. It's how you act and what you do. If Anne plays a tough game you can't blame her as long as she doesn't break laws or does something really unethical. Concentrate on yourself." Concentrate on myself. That was easy to say, but I still didn't know who that "myself" was. I cleaned up a bit and slipping into light cotton pajamas climbed into bed and slept. Chapter 3. Being the Food I stared at the screen reading up on the latest virus some asshole had spread on the web. Walt, my supervisor, leaned over my shoulder and occasionally would make a comment. It was the end of a long day and I was glad when we finally disconnected from the web and sat back in our chairs. "Well all of our upgrades are taken care of. I'll send out a note to everybody with the standard warnings about computer use. I think we're ok." I nodded my agreement and began to get ready to leave. "Anything planned for tonight?" "Nothing much Walt. I volunteered to help at the Parent Child Support Association. They're having some problems with their database. It's Access and basically its repair upon patch upon kluge at this point." "Sounds better than a PTA meeting like I'm going to. OK, see you tomorrow." We nodded to each other and locked the door to go our different ways. I had been helping out at the PCSA for about a year now. A notice in the church newsletter told about their needing some programming assistance and I volunteered. Two or three times a month I would go over after work and try to keep things in order. I liked the people there and felt comfortable with the director, a middle aged woman named Christine Pierce. Tonight I would have gladly have not gone but Pierce said they were having trouble with an important report so I couldn't duck out. I was tired. The prior day was my annual physical. Dr. Fitz gave me a clean bill of health, noted that my cholesterol was nice and low and then asked the same question he had asked the year before. "Are you seeing a therapist?" "No. I don't see why I should. I am doing just fine. We went over this. The fact that I cross dress does not mean that I'm crazy." "You know I don't mean that. But you told me you sometimes have trouble sleeping and that you are often tense in crowds and are having problems with your sister. I think that you would benefit talking with someone. If you need some suggestions give me a call. OK get dressed and make an appointment for next June." Actually the conversation was more involved than I just said but it all boiled down to Dr. Fitz wanting me to deal more directly with my gender issues and me being content where I was. Was I content? Hell I didn't know then and I still don't. What I did know is that I was not going to try and fit seeing a shrink into my schedule. I left his office unsettled and was still on edge two days later. Now, as I drove to the PCSA offices I just wanted to go home and curl up with something mindless on TV. When I reached the offices I rang myself in and said hi to Tina the receptionist. She and Ms. Pierce were the only people there and I accepted a cup of juice as I listened to the two of them tell me of the horrors of dealing with Access. Finally I was able to nail down what was wrong, what they wanted, and more important what they needed. Tina grabbed her bag and shouting that she was late for dinner, ran out the door. Ms. Pierce shouted "good night" and sat down to read a magazine while I opened up the misbehaving report to see what I had to do. "I can lock up when I'm done Ms. Pierce you don't have to stay." "It's alright I'm not in a hurry." I recalled some of the gossip I had heard. Tina once told me that the Pierce's had separated, rejoined and separated again. Maybe Ms. Pierce had an empty house waiting for her. "Mike, everybody calls me Christine, you might as well." "Oh. Alright." I hit the print button and waited while the printer spat out the first page of the report. As I edited it Christine looked over my shoulder and pointed to where she wanted a bolder font. It felt strange to have a woman so close to me, the edge of a breast sliding along my shoulder. "So how is life treating you Mike." "Pretty good. Pretty good." I printed out another page and handed it over. Christine read it through slowly and asked for a change in the sort order. I explained why her idea, while it seemed logical, actually would make it harder for the person receiving the report to understand it. We tossed ideas back and forth until we reached a compromise involving changing the labels and I made the changes and saved. I was getting ready to go when Christine started talking again. "Lord it's passed seven already. Well I have nowhere to go anyway. What's on your agenda?" I admitted that I had no specific plans and was going to snack at home and watch TV. Christine nodded. "Yeah you and me alike. Hey sit down." I plunked down next to her on the office couch and listened as she talked about living alone and not liking to cook for just one person. I responded with some of the issues of living in the same house as Anne. I was just about to mention an easy dish I often made when I felt Christine's hand on my thigh. "Uh Ms. Pierce..." "Shush. Relax, we are both lonely. And I doubt you are as gay as you dress." I started to say something but managed nothing because Christine leaned over and kissed me. First it was just a kiss on the lips and then she pushed me down and hungrily devoured me. My arms were against her and I almost pushed her away. Then the classic scene where the young woman pounds on her assailant's back slowly changing from pounding to stroking flashed through my mind and I gave in. I was lonely and it had been more than a year since I had had sex. I talked about this once with Mary, realizing that it was not sex I really missed so much as the incredible closeness that comes with it. I wrapped my arms around Christine and returned the kisses. We unbutton each other's clothing and when her dress slid off her shoulders I buried my face between her breasts. I unclipped her brassiere, experience giving my fingers facility, and kissed first one nipple and then the other. Christine sat up straight, reached down, unzipped my slacks and pulled them down exposing the blue panties with the white lace waist band. "Mmmm. Really cute." She said "Lacy". Then she slipped her hand into my panties and I shivered as she ran her fingers up and down the growing erection. I pulled her dress further down and she pushed me away. Standing up she pulled off her panty hose and I looked at her. Maybe she was no young beauty but that night she was stunningly erotic and I was very aroused. I stood up, kicking off my slacks and panties and we hugged, her breasts against my chest, my erection prodding her stomach. Christine turned and opening up her pocket book, dug for a moment before pulling out a condom. Unwrapping it she slid it over my penis and then grabbing hold of my hand she pulled me down onto the rug. I started to reach down to stroke between her legs but she pushed my hand away and pulled me on top of her and we joined. It seems odd but as aroused as I was I had trouble reaching a climax. I moved in and out and varied my rhythm. Christine was making animal noises saying things such as "keep going" or "oh God don't stop." Finally I had to have release and when she started to buck beneath me I gritted my teeth and drove faster and faster until I came. We lay side by side on the rug. Christine kept reaching over her head and I leaned over and grabbed the tissues from the desk. Laying back down I gently kissed the side of a breast and then a cheek. Christine purred and looked up at the ceiling. "I can't feel guilty about this. It's been months since I've had sex. My husband's walked out again. Anyway you seemed to enjoy it." I made an appreciative noise. "Do you wear panties all the time." "Uh huh. And when at home I'm usually dressed up and call myself Carla." "Oh. Well you are a fantastic lover. Don't waste yourself by being gay." I could think of nothing to say so I just stroked her stomach for a moment. We dressed almost in silence and then looked around to make sure the office gave no clues as to our activities. Occasionally we said little things to indicate we both knew this was a one time event never to be mentioned. As I got ready to step out the door Christine kissed me again, her tongue probing mine and her hand on my buttocks pressing me into her. Then I stepped into the parking lot to find it was raining and I ran to my car feeling the drops soak my shirt. In the shower I scrubbed thoroughly feeling less and less happy about the evening. Sure it was erotic and I had enjoyed the physicality. Obviously Christine liked it but what did it make me? Was I a man who had "taken a woman to the heights of ecstasy" or was I just a toy an older woman had used to scratch an itch and get rid of some loneliness? By the time I was ready for bed I defined what I felt like. I felt soiled. I felt as though I was something that having been used could be thrown out just like the condom that Christine carefully wrapped in tissue and had me flush down the toilet. It took a long while to fall asleep that night and by the time I was fading out I knew I would call Dr. Fitz and ask for the names of some therapists. I glanced at the clock and groaned to see it was way past mid-night. Then I stared at the ceiling until the alarm roused me from bad dreams. Chapter 4. Steak and Good Gumbo My 26th birthday arrived and Pete insisted on buying me drinks and a steak at Gama's my favorite bar and grill. I invited Mary and it was fun to watch Pete trying figure out how to deal with such an in-your- face lesbian. Mort saw us and brought his wife over expanding the crowd and finally Anne came in as well. It was a nice evening and once Anne had reconciled herself to the fact that Pete worked in the back of a rental agency and Mary at the local food bank (thereby defining themselves as "lower class") she enjoyed herself as well. Beer flowed, steaks and wings were eaten and Anne and Mort contested as to who had the best "stupid financial services" story to tell. The only thing wrong was my clothing. Because this was Gama's I was dressed as male as I ever did in those days. I would have liked to have worn a nice party dress but that was not to be. Now and then I would see a woman in the crowd and think "hey I'd look good in that." Still I enjoyed myself and the glow followed me home. Anne got home a few minutes before me and suggested a cup of tea before we went to bed. I knew the signs. Either she had something to discuss, a complaint to make or else, though rarely, a confession. "We should have Jerry over more often." "Cousin Jerry?" "Mike he's the only Jerry we know. Sure. I mean he is our nearest relative, at least if you consider distance. He lives alone and maybe he'd like to have dinner with family." "Anne, I can think of a couple of reasons why not to have him over "more often" as you say. First he is our boss. Second we had him over for the house warming and he didn't return the favor by inviting us to his house. Third we don't know that he is lonely. He might be out hell raising every night." "Jerry? Hell raising?" "Okay at least concede that he might have a full life and friends. I think you just want to keep yourself high on his radar screen." Obviously I had pushed a button. "So what's wrong with that? I'm mid-level at House and I don't plan on staying there. You don't think the other's don't play this kind of game? You may be content to drift along but I..." "Ok, Ok Anne. We'll have Jerry over, which means you want me to organize and cook." "Well I'm useless at that Mike. I'll help though." "Fine, but here are a few rules. One, we have some other guests who are completely uninvolved with House Associates. Two, you really do help me prepare. Three, no pressure on me regarding how I dress or act." "Agreed." I left Anne the job of setting the date, inviting our neighbors, the Miller's, over and finding one or two others to make up the party. Reminding Anne that Wednesday nights were my nights for Aikido I said that I'd plan the menu and when went to bed. The first therapist I called from Dr. Fitz's list had no openings, the second on the list was too far away but the third was halfway between home and the office, had an opening and took our insurance. I made an appointment and left work early one Thursday to sit in the office of Dr. Erskine. I was expecting all kinds of digging but during this first session he mostly asked questions about medical history and family connections. "Getting a mental map" was how he put it. Towards the end he asked a few questions about gender orientation including one that pinned me back a bit. "When you go to Dr. Fitz for a physical, do you wear panties?" "No." "Why." I gave it a lot of thought and had no answer at the time. The question followed me around. Here was Dr. Fitz who knew about my cross dressing and a lot of other intimate stuff as well but when I went to his office I wore men's plain cotton briefs. It gave me pause and gnawed at me. It was still in the back of my mind at work while I was sitting with three of the newer staff and laying out, not for the first time, the rules about computer use and the danger of viruses. In a small company, secrets don't last long so no one should have been shocked by me. However I did get quite a second glance from one the newbies when I sat down, crossed my legs and exposed the nearly sheer knee highs I wore under my off white linen slacks. I just smiled and continued the talk. While I described some of the "you mays" and "you may nots" Jerry walked by and popped his head in. He said hello, nodded, smiled at the staff, mentioned in passing that he'd see me Friday evening and moved on. This time the looks I got were different. Maybe Anne was right. Playing the game had some benefits. I think the three paid more attention from then on. In between delivering my safety lecture and sitting back down at my desk I thought about the look I got, how I liked to dress and the coming party. The Millers knew I crossed dressed and once had seen me in fully en femme when an emergency had them come over to our house to shelter from a storm until a fallen power line was repaired. Cousin Jerry knew, though the most he had seen was my half-way garb at work. That left the other two guests, friends of Anne whom I had met once at a picnic. Why had I worn men's briefs to my physical? Who or what was I scared of? I suddenly knew I had made a decision and got back down to adding a field onto a contact form and making sure that it fouled up nothing else in the system. Anne did the shopping on Thursday and I skipped out of work a few minutes early on Friday. Dinner would be easy because, with Anne doing the slicing and chopping, we made a gumbo on Thursday night and gumbo always tastes better on the second day. All we had to do was make rice and a salad and neaten up the house. I cheated this time and bought a cake from a local bakery for dessert. As Anne set the table I put out wine glasses. Then we put together a cheese and fruit board and went our separate ways to change. Our guests would start arriving in about thirty minutes so I couldn't dawdle but I already knew what I was going to wear. The prior time we had a dinner I was dressed as masculine as I could pull off and I suspected Anne was prepared for a repeat of the theme. I quickly pulled off my clothes and sponged down. I filled the sink with cool water and added a couple of sprays of Caswell-Massey lavender scent. Then with a fresh cloth I washed as much as I could reach. When I was done I felt refreshed and a barely detectable flower scent hung about me. Back in my bedroom I pulled on a pair of tight fitting violet lace panties and took out my foam forms but skipped the cleavage creating gel pads. A lacey white brassiere was followed by a white woman's blouse with full cut long sleeves and wide cuffs. I stuck with my linen slacks and tan knee-high hose but instead of my standard loafers slipped into a pair of bone colored flats that made no attempt to be anything other than women's shoes. Staring at myself in the mirror I released my pony tail brushed out my hair and retied it higher on my head. A little lip gloss, a dusting of powder and the slightest re-shaping of my eyebrows with a pencil and I liked the way I looked. It might take one or two looks to figure out I was a man and that was the best I could hope for. More important than how I looked was how I felt and I felt good. With my studs replaced by simple drop earrings and a gold chain around my neck I winked at myself in the mirror. "Ok Carla. It's show time." Anne's eyes widened when I entered the living room. "Damn it Mike." She saw the look in my eyes. "Ok Carla. This dinner is important to me. Can't you play things straight once in a while?" "Anne, I agreed to this dinner on some conditions. How I dress was one of them. Now ease up. Jerry and the Millers know about me. You'll be the one with the biggest problem. Can you grab the cheese board and bring it out. I'll start the rice cooker and put a low heat under the gumbo." Anne walked into the kitchen somehow managing to convey her disgust with all things Carla and I followed. I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Trust me Anne, ok. I need to do this and I will lay odds that Jerry won't mind in the least. By the way why didn't you invite Jack?" Anne just shrugged and at that point the doorbell rang. I started to head towards it but Anne pushed me back into the kitchen and ran out herself. I could hear the Miller's voices and followed giving Shelly and David a big smile. David froze for a split second but Shelly just came over gave me a hug and, calling me Carla, thanked Anne and me for inviting us over. A split second later David caught his breath and joined in the conversation and the ice was broken. Anne was pouring some white wine when the bell rang again and this time I opened it to find Jerry and Anne's friends all standing at the door together. I waved them in and smiled at Jerry whose eyebrows were raised almost to his hairline. Lena and John, a couple in their early thirties stood awkwardly in the foyer. "Hi, I'm Carla, Anne's sibling. Come on in. Hello Jerry, thanks for coming." Anne came out, hugged everybody while I bustled about grabbing beer and wine as necessary. We settled down in the living room and John suddenly gasped and sprayed a bit of beer. Lena grabbed a napkin and the two of them started wiping and apologizing. "I've got it. Oh shit I'm sorry. You'll think I'm stupid. You're Anne's brother." I smiled and nodded. Lena gave John a puzzled look. "You didn't know?" "Not immediately he looked a lot different at the picnic." At that Jerry laughed with a big hooting sound and we all joined in and Shelly commented on how she would kill for slender hips like mine and the conversation moved on to the epidemic of obesity in the country and from there to exercise and then to vacations. We were just starting to hear about Lena and John's trip to Bonaire when a "ding" from the kitchen told me to go and stir the gumbo. Anne followed and fussed about a bit. I knew she was jumpy. I tried to lighten to mood. "John's a bit slow on the uptake isn't he?" Anne swung around. "Yeah right. And if he doesn't stop staring at you soon Lena is going to slug him." She walked back out leaving me with my mouth open. I stirred the gumbo and added the file powder. Then I giggled. What the hell, so maybe John is curious or turned on. It doesn't matter. I'm having fun. The conversation returned to exercise as people decided which hot sauce to add to the gumbo and I mentioned that I liked to ride my bike. Shelly agreed it was nicer than being in the gym and Jerry mentioned that he hadn't been on his bike in years. "You should start again" said Shelly "the local bike path is really pleasant and there aren't that many hills." "I doubt my bike is road worthy at this point." Anne broke in and volunteered my services commenting that I kept our two bikes in good condition. That took us to repairs of cars and then to the general and universal discussion of how to find a good plumber, electrician and painter. After dinner I let Anne do most of the clearing up, contenting myself with transferring the leftovers to suitable containers. Jerry ferried in glasses and plates and thanked us again for inviting him. "I don't get out enough and my kitchen is used solely for making coffee and toast. By the way Mike, sorry Carla..." "Mike is fine" I broke in. "Oh, well could you come over and take a look at my bike? I should be getting more exercise." We agreed I would drop over after church and went out to join to the others. I brought with me a chilled dessert wine and the six of us talked until David noticed it was almost eleven and suddenly everybody was thanking Anne and me and bustling out the door. "I think that went very well." I nodded and sipped the last of the wine. "Yep. Everybody liked each other and everybody had seconds." Anne looked at the ceiling and I waited. "How old do you think Jerry is." "Stop playing games Anne. You know he's about 51. We went out for drinks with him and his office staff last year around now." Anne smiled. "Yeah. It would do him good to get some exercise." I tried to read something into the comment but got nowhere. "Carla." "Yes Anne." "You were right. How you dressed was fine. I have to wonder about David though. He really was eyeing you." "I think you're exaggerating." "Nope. Probably just curiosity on his part. Christ it's late. We'll finish cleaning up tomorrow. I'm going to bed. Good night Carla." "Night Anne." Chapter 5. Cool Clear Water After church I changed out of my nice and neutral clothing into a pair of khaki shorts and a dark blue t-shirt. I slipped into sandals but threw cycling shoes, gloves and a helmet into the car. I somehow managed to stuff the folding repair stand into the back of the car with my tool kit. Then, with my Trek road machine on the roof rack, I headed out to see what mechanical disaster Cousin Jerry had for a bicycle. This was my first time to Jerry's place and I managed to get lost once or twice in the suburban development where he lived. I expected he would have a large house and was surprised to find a smaller townhouse with a one car garage. Jerry was sitting on the small porch in front and waved as I drove up. After the standard "how are you" and "great weather" he helped me pull out the repair stand and lifted the tool kit giving an impressed "woof" when he felt the weight. Jerry opened up the garage door and wheeled out a Cannondale. It was one of those bikes that are neither fish nor fowl. They are called hybrids, or fitness bikes and the bike snobbery in me rose up. I had to admit though that if it was a Cannondale it would be well made. I popped the bike into the stand and gave it a quick look. The biggest problem appeared to be dust and after Jerry unreeled his garden hose we gave the bike a gentle shower. I followed that with some water displacement spray on the gears and chain and then lubricants. I ran the gears back and forth, checked out the brakes and dropping the bike back to the ground pumped up the tires and applied the brakes a few times. The last things I did covered the saddle, head set and pedals. After thirty minutes I looked up and said "how about a test ride." Jerry was up for a ride so I pulled down my machine and changed shoes. Then I asked Jerry where his helmet was and we had a disagreement on the need to wear a helmet if "you're just pedaling around the neighborhood." That was followed by "where is your water bottle." Finally we got on the road and while Jerry relearned how to change gears and which lever activated which brake I looked around. He lived in a solidly upper middle class but not wealthy neighborhood and people waved or called out greetings and we slowly meandered the streets. There was one hill which I barely noticed but I could tell Jerry was struggling a little and when we reached the top I pulled up beside him and passed him my water bottle. "Ahh, thanks. Hey what do you put in it for longer rides. " "Just water. I carry power bars and energy gels for longer rides but I find cool water is the best drink." We got back to Jerry's house and while I put my bike back on the rack and stowed away the repair stand Jerry went inside to get two beers. It was a warm day and I could feel the sweat sliding down my back and into my shorts. When Jerry shoved a cold bottle into my hand I reveled in the first few gulps. Jerry slumped onto the porch steps and I sank into a lawn chair and we just sipped the beer for a while, each enjoying the early summer day in his own way. The temperature was in the upper 70's and the sun was strong. I leaned back and stretched giving a groan of contentment. "So my bikes in good shape?" "Yes." "Anything I should get." "Yeah, get a helmet. You might also want to consider gloves. If you do crash you'll probably put your hands down and road rash on the palm is nasty. While you are at it pick up a water bottle and a flat kit." "I don't know how to change a tire." "I'll show you." "Thanks. Hey Mike I really enjoyed dinner. Thank you, and thank Anne for me." "No problem. We enjoyed having you over and I like to show off my cooking." Jerry gave me a grin. "Tell you what. Next weekend come over. We'll go to the bike path and then I'll grill something out back. I'm a lousy cook but I can make a steak edible three times out of four." Shortly after agreeing to that I checked my watch, thanked Jerry for the beer, repeated that I liked working on bikes so his additional thanks were unnecessary and drove home. Arriving at our house I noticed that Anne's bike had been moved and getting inside I found a sweaty and red faced sister drinking lemonade. "Hi Mike. You inspired me so I thought I'd go out on my bike. Whoo it's hot out there. So how is Jerry's bike?" I filled Anne in on Jerry and cycling and headed upstairs to shower. As the water ran down my body and I felt the heat leaving me I laughed. Many times I tried to get Anne to cycle with me but she was strictly an air conditioned gym and aerobics type. Well maybe this would get her moving a bit. When I got out of the shower I heard my answering machine beeping. I toweled off and slipping into a light cotton robe I went to replay the message. "Hi Mike it's Pete. I was wondering if you wanted to join some of us later. We're hitting Airways Mini-Putt for some miniature golf, hotdogs and ice cream. No need to call back; just join us around 7:00 if you want to come. "Hmm miniature golf on a summer's evening. Why the hell not?" It was still mid-afternoon so I tossed on some shorts and a t-shirt and joined Anne downstairs to read the paper and try, unsuccessfully as always, to complete the Sunday crossword puzzle. In between questions such as "Do you remember who what novel was made into the film Goodfellas?" we made simple conversation. Anne wanted to know more about Jerry and cycling and thought it was great that he wanted to hit the bike path and then cook steaks. Somehow by the time I went upstairs an offhand comment by Jerry had turned into Ann inviting herself along, me preparing a salad to bring with us and the three of us having a weekend afternoon and evening together. Feeling a bit irritated by Anne's pushiness I was glad to shove my feet into sneakers, grab my wallet and head out on county route 40 to meet Pete and his friends for some simple fun without complications or personal politics. As the miles went by I tried to analyze Anne but was left with my earlier conclusion. Anne was a striver and disparate to grab every advantage in getting ahead. Well, concentrate on myself, that was my new mantra. Pete's crowd was a fun group, a mixture of teachers, garage mechanics, firefighters, and everything else under the sun. We played miniature golf, ate hotdogs and hamburgers and indulged in soft serve ice cream while complaining about how much exercise we would have to do to justify this eating. At the end Peter, a nurse whose name I have forgotten and I were the only ones left and we sat on a bench in the dusky light and quietly talked about the recession and our lives. When the nurse left, Pete was quiet for a while and I just gazed at the last streaks of red in the western sky. "Mike." "Yes?" "I was wondering. I... I mean we've known each other for a while. I was... oh I mean. Hell can I ask you a question?" "You just did." "What? Oh. No I'm serious." I turned to look a Pete who was sitting as far away from me on the bench as possible and appearing in some discomfort. "Sorry Pete. Sure ask away." "Are you gay?" Somehow I knew that was what he was going to ask. I don't know why but his level of discomfort might have been a clue. I looked at Pete for a moment not sure what to say. "Why? I mean I'll tell you that I am not sure. Sometimes I think maybe and other times I say no. Recently I have been wondering if I am asexual and caught between genders. Now it's my turn. Why ask? We've been friends for years, does it matter?" As best as I could tell in the dim light Pete was red faced. "It's just that I am attracted to you Mike and I am gay. I was wondering, I mean we do a lot of things together so it wouldn't change anything, but well, would you like to go out with me?" I was dumbfounded. It had never occurred to me that Pete might be gay. Sure I never heard him talking about girlfriends and he was always very attentive when he was with me but still. "Pete, I'm sorry. I want to stay your friend and do things with you. I am not ready to "go out" as you say with any one. I'm so damn confused. You know I've started seeing a shrink. Oh shit." I felt my eyes tear up and Pete must have seen it for he got up and came back with a glass of cold water. I sipped it slowly as we sat side by side in the dark summer night not saying anything. Chapter 6. Cold Creole Corn. "There is going to be trouble Walt. I can't duck it. The question is how we handle it." My supervisor rocked back and forth in his desk chair. "Was that really his reaction when you spoke to him?" "Yes. I was polite and he came back and told me that he would work with me if he had to but he'd be damned if he was going to get with in touching distance of a fairy, his words, so we better find someplace bigger than his cubicle." "Shit." One of the new hires already had gained a reputation as being a far right wing bigot. He explained clearly to one of the secretaries that there should be no unemployment insurance and the fact that her husband had been laid off from work was his problem and not the taxpayers'. Then he made a snide comment that insinuated that Jews should not be trusted in high-level positions because they were all embezzlers. Yesterday he had taken me on. The difference this time was that he had used a slur, "fairy" and tackled a person who did not back down. I might be laid back, but not that much. I stared at Walt. "Either you talk with his supervisor, or I send a formal complaint to Personnel. Or both if you want. But by tomorrow it has to be one or the other." Walt nodded. "Both. I'll talk with Mitch about his new problem boy and you send a memo to Amy in Personnel. Hell I thought this week would be an easy one." We got back to work but my neck was stiff from the tension of the past few days. This new guy was going to be a real issue. Sooner or later he would say the wrong thing to the wrong person and get his head handed to him. I tried to concentrate on the firewall I was modifying and managed to relax a bit. The day before, I sat in Dr. Erskine's office having my brain explored. He was interested in the problem at work but more in my reaction to having sex with Christine. I wished I hadn't brought it up but like a pit bull he kept on asking me questions and not accepting most of my answers. "You say that you think you might be gay, but you don't get excited by Peter and you did have sex with a woman. What do you think defines a person as gay?" "Why, in a situation most men would be boasting about, did you feel, "soiled" I think was the word you used?" "What one word would you use to describe the feeling you get when dressed in women's clothing? Really? Why that word?" With all that running through my head it was a wonder that I didn't open up House Associates to every hacker in the multiverse. Somehow I managed to change, test and button up the firewall. Walt walked by and mentioned he would be seeing Mitch tomorrow morning. I nodded and got to work writing a memo to Personnel. Anne was furious and went on and on about learning to turn the other cheek and how this might effect my (read that as meaning her) reputation. When she finally talked herself out I asked her a simple question. "When he gets around to implying that the only reason you, a woman, are next in line to be head of finance is because you gave your boss Mr. Crawford a blowjob, what will you say?" I have never seen Anne so frozen. For a moment the wild idea that she had been down on her sixty year old obese supervisor crossed my mind. Then she snorted and nodded her head. "Yeah. Ok. What's good for the goose is good for the gander. I'll back off, but I wish you'd talk with me before doing things like this." I passed Anne a plateful of fried perch and signaled for her to put it on the table. We sat down and ate talking about nothing in general, our argument settled. While Anne got us tea I leafed through a magazine. "So Mike what should we bring with us on Saturday?" "Huh?" "Wakey wakey. Remember? We are going cycling with Jerry. He's expecting us around 2:00." "I'll think about it on my way back from work tomorrow. You were out pedaling around yesterday, right?" "Uh huh. I did about seven miles. Do you think we should bring wine?" "Anne relax. We'll bring a cold salad of some sort and let Jerry take care of the rest." Anne looked disgruntled by my lack of concern but could see she would get nowhere. I finished my tea and leaving her to clean up I went back to my apartment and turned on the radio. I stared out the window. It was starting to get dark and here and there a lightening bug sparked his signal of lust. The Millers were working in their garden and someone was walking a dog, or maybe being walked by their dog. It was June 30th in my town and summer was fully upon us. The word I had given Dr. Erskine was "cozy". "When I am dressed in my woman's stuff I feel cozy. It's like stepping out of a shower into the chilly air and wrapping a large warm towel around you. You both tingle and relax at the same time. I feel hugged by what I wear. I feel complete." Dr. Erskine just made some notes. "Say more." "There isn't much more to say. I rarely get turned on when I get dressed. Hell I rarely get turned on. All I know is that wearing these slacks, button down shirt and a blazer, doesn't do anything for me except protect me from the sun. When I put on even the most mundane of my female garb, I mean like tailored slacks and a polo shirt with a brassiere, I feel complete." I picked up the most recent issue of Bicycle and read about upcoming Tour de France. I looked with wonder at the mountains they would cycle. Then I looked at a picture of the prior year's winner. His tight shorts and jersey hid nothing. In fact the padding in his shorts emphasized his crotch. I imagined him naked and tried to get turned on but the only thing I could think about was how dark his tan was and then to wonder if skin cancer was common among retired racers. Tossing the magazine aside I turned on the TV. I scanned the channels and finding What Not To Wear fantasized about being coached in fashion and having my hair done. "Anne wheel your bike to this side. Thanks. Did you grab an extra bottle? Uh huh. Let's go." And so we did. I drove while Anne looked out the window commenting on the houses we passed. She was wearing black shorts and a loose top. I on the other hand was dressed for comfort while cycling. My skin tight shorts were light blue and my lycra jersey was white with some black print. I knew I looked good and could pretend that these were women's garments. Pulling into Jerry's driveway I saw that his bike was leaning against the porch and that a helmet was hanging from the handlebars. I gently beeped my horn and then grabbed the plastic container containing Creole Corn Salad. The previous night had been hilarious. I purchased six ears of corn and tried to teach Anne how to slice the kernels off the corn and into a bowl. I swear more corn sprayed on the counter than was harvested. We had enough however and I took the back of the blade and scraped out the sweet corn juice. Then I added the kernels to sizzling bacon fat, followed that with red peppers and chopped scallions and finally the bacon crumbles I had made earlier. Five minutes later the corn was in a bowl chilling down. Creole Corn for a summer's meal. Now I handed the salad to Jerry to put in his freezer and Anne pulled the water bottles out of the car. Jerry had a bottle on his bike already so after I filled ours I stuffed two on mine. Jerry looked us over and commented how expert we looked. He helped me take down Anne's bike and the three of us pedaled off towards the path waving at neighbors and talking about the weather. I am not a fan of bike paths, but that Saturday afternoon it was not too crowded. We moved at a slow pace with Jerry sometimes riding beside me and sometimes beside Anne. Occasionally we rode single file and conversations passed in fits and starts governed by the passing of other cyclists, joggers and roller bladders. It was obvious to me that Anne wanted to talk to Jerry and when I could I let the two of them cycle together. The path ran out about six miles until it came to a major hill and there we turned around. Jerry rode beside me for a while and as we came back to our starting point if figured I'd give Anne some more access to him. "Hey guys, I need to stretch my legs out a bit. I'm going to ride past the park for a few miles and I'll meet you when I come back." I stood up on the pedals and quickly moved from the barely ten mile an hour pace to around fourteen or fifteen. Two miles ahead was decent hill. I'd cycle to the top of that at a reasonable speed and then turn around and drift back to the park where Jerry and Anne would be waiting. On the way back I passed a young couple sitting on the grass next to their bikes. I thought about earlier in the morning when I joined the men fishing on the Sand Kill River. I plunked down my chair next to Pete, said "good morning" and sipped my coffee. After about a minute Pete leaned over and spoke softly. "Are you sore about what I said?" "No Pete. Not at all. And I meant it when I said I want to be your friend and do things together. You just..." We stopped as one of the others came over to borrow some pliers. Then I reassured Pete that I was just fine and would gladly join him for a beer or fishing anytime. Looking at the couple on the grass I tried to imagine myself as part of a couple. I tried to imagine myself in Pete's arms. It just didn't work. I saw men and women and I found them both attractive but that was as far as it went. Back at the park I found Jerry and Anne sitting at a picnic table and rode up to them. We talked for a while about biking before remounting and slowly cycling back to Jerry's place. I could tell that Ann and Jerry were both tired. I did what I could not to indicate that fourteen or so flat miles was not really a ride. Back at Jerry's Anne disappeared with a bag into the bathroom and came out in a few minutes washed up and wearing a clean blouse. I took my turn, sponged down and exchanged my jersey for a t-shirt. When I got out I found them in the back standing by the grill deep in conversation. The penny dropped in my slow mind the next day. I was back from church, reading in the backyard when I heard the doorbell. Grumbling a little I was almost out of the lounger when I heard Jack's voice calling and I called back letting him know to come around the house. I was wearing dark blue jogging shorts and a plain white t-shirt so Jack had nothing to comment on. I doubt he would have noticed however. "Hi Mike, is Anne about?" "Nope. She went off to lunch with some friends." Jack sat down and looked around the yard for a moment. "Mike, have I irritated Anne in any way?" "Not that I know of Jack. Why?" "I feel as though I am getting brushed off. I mean suddenly she is not available for dinner, or can't come over. I don't know." "Well she has been busy at work and we've been spending some time with our cousin." At that moment I heard Anne's car in the driveway and she walked around the house. I am not good reading people's faces but she didn't look like a woman happy to see a lover. Jack got up and got a perfunctory kiss and then asked if he could get a beer. Anne led him into the house and I went back to my book dozing off somewhere after the second murder. Anne woke me to let me know she and Jack were going to the local Chinese place and did I want to come. I responded that I was fine and told her to have a good time. "Oh come on Mike. You like the Golden Wok. Get changed and join us." I nodded and quickly switched to some non-descript clothing feeling comfortable because I had on a nice pair of panties under the dark blue chinos. We all piled into Anne's car and drove to the restaurant. I was part way through my dish when I put it all together. Jack might not have realized it yet but the message was coming from Anne pretty clear. Jack wasn't the right type of boyfriend for an up and coming executive woman." Just as I was starting to sympathize with Jack the next realization struck. Yes Anne was dumping Jack but she was also flirting with Jerry. The nice blouse for cycling and even starting cycling again were all part of her strategy. On one hand I felt a bit disgusted. On the other I felt a sadness for someone who would put aside romance for advantage. This is why she wondered about Jerry's age. Anne was planning to move in on the man. Oh well, I reminded myself of my mantra; concentrate on yourself. I helped myself to more rice and listened as Jack tried to get Anne interested in a trip to Boston. Poor sap. He might want to consider travelling solo for a while. Chapter 7: Brandy is Dandy "Yeah they'll make a cocktail. I won't go bail on the quality though." It was 6:00 at Gama's and Jerry had corralled me after work and asked me if I'd join him in a drink. I agreed and he let me choose the "venue" to use his words. So he followed me to Gama's and after I ordered a beer Jerry wondered if the bartender could make a good Manhattan. We sat sipping our drinks while discussing the minor turmoil involved in firing the bigot. That led to a discussion of a new architect we hired who was stunningly beautiful. Somewhere in the flow we ordered food and Jerry leaned back and looked around. "This is a really nice place. I see why you like it." I nodded and waved at an acquaintance. "Yep. It is the cli