The Pendant free porn video

I don't remember what made me do it. I was 13, living with my father, a year after mom had passed away. Her death had hit me hard, and my dad said I was a different kid after that, but I don't think he quite knew just how right he was. School had started, and, living in a new neighborhood, I felt like I was just drifting along. The kids at school were incredibly cliquish, and I could see from the beginning that I just wasn't going to fit in. Maybe that's why I did it. It was late August, lovely weather on Long Island. Summer's heat had broken and the cook of autumn seemed just around the corner. Dad was working a lot of extra hours, both to get ahead and to forget, I think. But on that particular day, I sat at home feeling like the last person in the universe. It didn't hit me right away, not until I realized I'd fallen asleep in the middle of the afternoon and woke up in a sweat. I decided to take everything off and take a shower. It was in the shower that I started to cry. Eventually, I calmed down and came out and dried off. But as I emerged from the bathroom, I was inexplicably drawn to Dad's room. It was oddly similar to my parents' room in our old apartment, including two closets, one of them a huge walk-in. When we had moved in at the beginning of the summer, Dad had moved into it all of the clothes that had been in Mom's old closet. "I'll get to cleaning it out one day," he had said many times. But he never did. While everything else about our home was different, Mom's closet remained the same. We never talked about it, he and I. Maybe he felt he had to be strong for me, and not show any emotion. With a start, I realized that maybe he needed to cry, too, and he never did. We had a history in Mom's closet, he and I, an unpleasant one, something else we never mentioned. When I was six, I had crept in early one Saturday morning and let myself in to Mom's closet. I had a sudden urge to try on the lovely black crinoline that hung from a pipe rack across the back, and the feel of the stiff flared material brushing against my young legs almost made me swoon. Eager to complete the look, I had taken down a pair of her black high heels, pumps with a pointed toe and spike heels that for a moment I tottered around on like the girls I'd seen in their mommies' heels until I went down in a clamorous thud. I had just gotten back to my feet, free of the heels, when the door flung open and Dad demanded, "What in blue blazes is going on?!" Mom intervened, but the damage had been done. In Dad's eyes, I was a sissy, and nothing could ever change that. I had been severely chastised and I had promised never to do it again. When I was eleven, just before Mom first got sick, she had come home from work not feeling well (the beginning of the onset of her illness, as it turned out) and had caught me wearing one of her pleated skirts, a cream colored sweater, bra (stuffed with socks), panties, pantyhose and heels. I had been terrified, but she had smiled and told me how pretty I looked. "Do you wish you were a girl, Jack?" she asked me. "I dunno," I mumbled. "I just wanted to see what it felt like." She had let me stay dressed the rest of the afternoon, let me try on some makeup, combed my longish hair out and clipped it with a couple of barrettes and called me Jaclyn. Then we went into the kitchen, and she gave me my first cooking lesson. I changed back before Dad got home, and she promised me it would remain our secret. I never dressed up again with her, but we cooked together all the time and it became a wonderful thing that we shared. When she had grown too ill to cook, she coached me while I did the cooking, and later on, when she was permanently bedridden, I cooked alone. After she died, mu aunts were rather stunned when I cooked up a spread for after the funeral, but I needed it to stay sane. Dad seemed pleased at my continued interest in it after everything had calmed down and we had tried to get back to normal. But this new normal was difficult for me, and I clung to cooking, not as something joyful, but as something as necessary to me to live as breathing. When I was in the kitchen, I was able to ignore the abyss that had opened beneath me and called to me regularly, and sometimes, late at night, lying in bed in the dark, it was everything I could do to try to ignore it, and I focused on what I would cook the next day. So now, Mom's closet drew me like a magnet. As I opened the door, I could almost smell the fragrance of her perfume. The sweaters that hung still seemed to hold just a hint of her scent, and the blouses of satin and chiffon and lace all hung there, waiting to be worn, and further down all her dresses in all their glory, and finally the skirts, all neatly in a row. Five flat drawers in a rack stood to the left, with rows of shelves with her shoes arrayed above them. The drawers contained her wonderful lingerie. I opened the second one and extracted a lovely pair of ivory satin panties with lace trim. I pulled them on, trying not to stare at the small protrusion from between my legs. Once, in third grade, one of the neighborhood boys had challenged me to a game of I'll Show You Mine and You Show Me Yours. He had gone first, and even at that age, it had seemed bigger than I expected and I had suddenly run home. But as I pulled the satin-and-lace confection up my legs, the tightness felt so right against my little nub that I actually felt aroused by it. In the third draw I found the matching lace bra and slipped into that as well. Tan pantyhose followed, and for several minutes I lay on the bed luxuriating in the marvelous sensations from the shimmering nylon and satin. I didn't linger too long. I realized with a start that, for the first time in my life, Mom's clothes actually fit me. Even the bra seemed right, and although I obviously didn't fill it out, one balled stocking in each cup seemed to do the trick. Back in the closet, I retrieved and ivory satin camisole, a see-through ivory blouse, and a stylishly short grey pleated skirt, all of which fit me perfectly. I tried a pair of black pumps with 3" heels, and they fit perfectly. I tried walking down the hall that ran the length of the apartment, and found that if I swayed my hips like the girls in school, I could walk perfectly well in the heels. My nub seemed to spring to life inside the panties and pantyhose, and I felt more deliciously feminine than I had ever felt in my life. But as much as I loved wearing the heels, I knew I couldn't wear them and cook, and I needed to cook. I returned to the closet and exchanged the heels for a pair of black patent leather flats that I had seen Mom wear many times when she was giving a dinner. I found a lovely gold locket that I could not remember seeing Mom wear, and clip-on earrings to add a little extra feminine allure. We had veal chops for that night, and I started to prepare them in a mushroom cream sauce. For a vegetable, I prepared glazed carrots. As I worked, I had this incredible sense of being feminine in a way I never had before. Suddenly, I stood in the middle of the kitchen and hugged myself. "Oh, Jaclyn!" I said aloud. "You are such a girl!" Desire was building in me, now, and I removed the veal chops in their cream sauce and put them in a covered dish. I did the same with the carrots. They would be ready to be quickly heated when Daddy came home. I retreated to my bedroom and lay on my bed. I hugged my pillow and imagined it was a boy, dazzled by my beauty and seduced by my feminine wiles. I kissed the pillow and imagined the boy was kissing me, holding me, caressing me. My hands found my tender, silky thighs and then my more private places. "Oh, yes!" I gasped aloud. "Touch me there!" Every time I felt my little nub through the satin and nylon, I gasped. The boy was kissing my breasts, licking my nipples...touching me...there. My whole body seemed to explode in climax, and I passed into unconsciousness before I had time to consider the prospect of spewed semen all over my mother's lingerie. My last conscious thought was, "This is how it should be." I awoke to my shoulder being gently shaken. "Come on, sweetheart, time to wake up." "Mmmm??" Before he could say anything else, I burst awake. Had Dad just called me sweetheart? I jumped off the bed, pulling my skirt down, and I took a quick mental inventory: skirt, cami, blouse, bra, panties, pantyhose, black flats, pendant, earrings. All were still there. "I...um..." I stammered. "You look good in Mom's things," he said. "You don't quite fill out on top like she did, but that will come in time, no doubt." "You...you mean you don't mind?" I asked, incredulous. "No," he said with soft smile, a tear in his eye. "No, Jaclyn, honey, I don't mind at all. You do your Mom proud." Jaclyn? That was the name Mom had called me, the name I had given myself after that wonderful afternoon we'd spent together. But my thoughts were interrupted when I saw him staring at me, and I felt a sudden stab of panic. "What's wrong?" I forced myself to ask. "Nothing," he said, smiling. "You found the pendant. That's perfect." The pendant? There was something special about the pendant? Was that what had changed me? "It smells as if you've been up to your usual wonderful tricks in the kitchen," he said, suddenly bright and chipper. "When do I get to sample them?" "Right now," I said, leading him into the kitchen, confused but happy. "I guess I dozed off, so I forgot to set the table, but..." "Please allow me, sweetie," he said. By the time I brought the two serving dishes in, he was seated at his usual place at the head of the table. I quickly served the chops and the carrots. I asked about his day, and he told me about how things were going at work. The company was doing well and was expanding. His boss seemed to have nothing for praise for him and had even invited him to a baseball game where the company had a luxury box. Suddenly, he stopped. "What's the matter?" I asked, afraid that he had suddenly regained his senses and that this wonderful dream of mine was about to come crashing down on me. "I was going to...no, I can't do that," he said. "It wouldn't be fair to you." "What wouldn't?" "Forget it, honey." I pressed him, but he was adamant, and after a while I gave up. "This is fabulous," he said at last. "You really have a gift." When we finished dinner, he cleared away the dishes while I, wearing an old apron of Mom's, started the dishes. I was finishing up the skillet that I'd used for the chops when he came up from behind me and hugged me. I closed my eyes and lost myself in his embrace, thinking over and over, "It's really happened...I'm really a girl." I made coffee and brought cups for both of us into the living room, where Daddy was already sitting, watching television. The classic movie channel had one of his favorite films on, "Breaking Away", and I sat down and watched it with him. He found it funny, but I found it, especially the main character, Dave Stoller, endearing; the kind of boy I knew I'd like. That made me stop and think. Was this really me? Was I really a girl, and was I really deciding what kind of boys I liked? While Daddy watched another movie, an old Alfred Hitchcock film called "The 39 Steps", I grew more and more sleepy but decided I would stay up and watch it with him. I had never felt so close to him before, and I was certain that whatever magical thing had happened to me might end when the day was over. I woke up on the couch. The morning sun streaming in through the slats of the blinds told me it was late. There was a light blanket over me and my head was resting on the couch's throw-pillows, a habit I'd had for as long as I could remember. I could feel the shimmer of nylon on my legs, and when I peaked under the blanket, I could see that I was no longer wearing the skirt, blouse or cami but I'd slept in the rest of the lingerie. I glanced around the room and saw that the skirt and blouse were folded neatly over the back of the antique rocking chair while the camisole was folded on the seat. I was still wearing the pendant. There was a note on the coffee table. Dear Sleeping Beauty, You looked so peaceful last night, I didn't want to wake you. You're much too old for your father to be undressing you, but I didn't think you'd mind this much. Please call me if you need to talk. If I'm in a meeting or tied up, I promise to get back to you as soon as I can. All my love, Dad I hadn't changed back! I was so excited I practically leaped off the couch. I ran to my room and pulled off the pantyhose, the panties and the bra and stared at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess! I picked up a brush from my dresser and started brushing it out. This androgynous style had to go because I wanted it longer, much longer, maybe down below my shoulders, and then... I stopped. Hair brush? I stared more closely in the mirror. I had soft budding breasts with puffy nipples. I slowly drew my finger tip over the left one, and then the right one, and immediately they grew erect and firm and I felt a delightful tingling in my little nub. My right hand dropped down and had already slipped inside my already wet slit when I realized it was really a vagina, and the little nub that peeked out from its hooded hiding place really was my now highly aroused clitoris. I touched my clitty ever so gently and almost fainted at the rush of sexual feelings. I wanted to touch it again, but it was then that I noticed the pendant hanging just above the space between my breasts. What was it about the pendant? It was a little gold heart, and just looking at it made me feel special. It made me want to be the most girly of girls. Something about it seemed familiar, but try as I might, I couldn't think of why. Was it somehow responsible for this incredible change that had come over me...and Daddy? After all, he had acted as if my being a girl was the most natural thing in the world. Staring at the pendant, my eye wandered downward, back to the hair brush. It wasn't the only thing on my dresser that was new. There were barrettes, clips and combs for my hair, a small jewelry box, a few bottles of nail polish, a large bottle of nail polish remover and a small make-up kit with blush, lipstick, eyeshadow and mascara. I opened the left top drawer of the dresser and found several pairs of panties, mostly cotton with cute designs like hearts or flowers but a couple that were nylon and lace, and several packs of pantyhose. The top drawer on the right held a collection of bras, 32-A, and socks. The two second row drawers held lots of tops for the summer, and the two bottom drawers held shorts and miniskirts. In my closet were some jeans, dressy tops, skirts and dresses, but not many. There were also a couple of pairs of pumps with about a 2" heel, two pairs of dressy sandals, a couple of pair of casual sandals and a pair of trainers. There was no sign of my boy clothes anywhere. I fingered the pendant lightly. What was it about it that was so important? Had my reality completely changed? Was it truly magic? It sure felt like it, and I decided with a rush of excitement that whether this was real or not, whether it was permanent or not, I was going to enjoy it as long as I could. I wanted to take a shower, and so I went to take the pendant off. I froze. What if that broke the spell? What if the moment I took it off, I suddenly turned back into Jack and everything turned with it? What if I went to put it back on and the magic was gone? I considered keeping it on, but I knew I didn't want to take a shower with it. What if the delicate chain snapped and I lost it down the drain? I stared at myself in the mirror. "You're Jaclyn," I said aloud. "You're the new girl in town. You're going to stay a girl no matter what." I slowly, hesitatingly, reached up in back of my neck and pulled the clasp apart. Nothing happened. I pulled the chain away from my neck, my nerve-endings aching with anxiety, trying to sense any change. Still, nothing happened. I laid the pendant down on my dresser table. The hair brush, nail polish and makeup remained. I heaved a huge sigh of relief and dashed into the bathroom, no longer surprised that there was Jergens soap in the shower and herbal shampoo and conditioner. I washed and shampooed and conditioned my hair, then I lathered again and washed my breasts, teasing my incredibly sensitive nipples. When my clitty began to beg for attention, I took down the detachable shower nozzle and set it to pulse, then I turned it on my pubis. While my left hand aimed the pulsing water stream at my clit, my right hand teased my now rock hard nipples, and I soon went over the edge, gasping and holding on for dear life. When I'd come back down to earth, I turned the shower off, replaced the nozzle and dried off myself and the bathroom. I went back to my room and chose for the day a pair of white cotton panties with big red hearts, a white bra, a blue stonewashed denim miniskirt and a pink sleeveless top. I checked my legs to see if they needed to be shaved, yet, but they were smooth as silk. I slipped on a pair of white casual sandals, then I sat at my dresser and decided to try the makeup. I tried to remember Mom. She had always gone easy with the makeup, so I decided to do the same - a little blush, a little eyeshadow, a touch of mascara and a light touch of lipstick. We needed milk, so I decided to venture out and walk down to the convenience store a block away. Well, all right, we didn't absolutely need the milk, but I wanted to see if I got any strange looks from anyone, like the store clerk. We'd only lived here a few weeks, so maybe they wouldn't recognize me. The clerk looked momentarily puzzled when I said hello, but then he smiled and told me to have a nice day. As I was walking out, I noticed a girl my age sitting on the bench outside the store with a boy who looked a year or two younger. The boy was staring at me, and I started to feel panic rising in me. "You see?" the girl said as I turned to walk away. "You scared her off, you little geek." Somehow that made me laugh, and I turned back. "You mean me?" I asked. The boy suddenly blushed. "Yeah," the girl replied. "You're the new kid, right? Just moved into that four-family up the block?" "Yes," I said. "Well, glad to have you. I'm Jenna Ryan. This little perv is Charlie Krause." "Jaclyn Lawrence," I said. "What school will you be going to?" Jenna asked. "St. Vincent's," I said. "Eighth grade." "Me, too," she replied. "Hey, can I call you Jackie?" I frowned. Jackie sounded too close to Jack, and I was trying to get as far from Jack as I could. "I prefer Jaclyn," I said, trying not to sound disagreeable. "I don't blame you," she said, smiling. "It's real pretty. But can I give you a piece of advice? The kids around here, and especially in school, are, like, super-cliquish. I don't envy you coming in as a new kid in 8th grade. But if you insist on 'Jaclyn', that'll be something they tease you about." I nodded. I appreciated that she was already looking out for me. "She's right," Charlie put in. "The kids at St. V's can be totally snobs." "You just grunt along with the rest of the animals at Memorial and leave us alone," Jenna said. "See what I mean?" I smiled. "What's Memorial?" I asked. "It's the local high school," he said. "And junior high," she added. "Which is where Charlie goes. 7th grade, right, genius?" He blushed again. "Well," I said, "you have to take them one at a time." "Oh, no," Jenna said with a laugh. "Don't try to make him feel better, you'll never get rid of him. Kinda like a stray cat." "But if he's twelve, then he belongs in 7th grade." "Yeah, but he's not. He's fourteen." I was stunned, but Charlie explained that he really was 14, and that he'd been left back in third grade twice - once for illness and once because he just refused to do the work. "You a member of the pool?" Jenna asked. Charlie looked relieved at having the spotlight turned away from him for the moment. The town had a pool, but you had to be a member in order to use it, and that was expensive. Since we had just moved here, Daddy hadn't taken out a membership for either of us. Apparently, it was a place where the town's teens hung out in the summer. "If you want to go, you can come as my guest," she said. "It's five dollars for a guest pass for a day. If you want, we can go tomorrow, and I'll introduce you to some of the other girls from school. That will make it easier for you next month." "Thanks, Jenna." "And a bunch of us from around here usually hang out either outside the store, here, or across the street by the garden apartments," Charlie said. "Okay." I thanked them both and turned to go. "Can I ask you something?" Charlie suddenly asked. "Do you have a twin brother or something?" I felt a cold dread stabbing me in the pit of the stomach. "No. Why?" "It's just that I've seen a guy who looks a lot like you coming in and out of your building a few times." I turned to face him. A cousin; I could tell him it was my cousin, then I wouldn't have to mention it again. But as I opened my mouth, the smooth little lie wouldn't come out. "It's a little embarrassing," I said. "I was kind of depressed when we moved here, and I let myself go for a while." "Why were you depressed?" he asked. "Shut up, asshole!" Jenna hissed. "No, Jenna, it's okay. My mom died a year ago, and then we moved. I felt like we were running away from her memory. But now I see that life goes on, and she would have wanted me to be happy. It's just my dad and me." "I'm sorry!" he gasped, and I felt so sorry for him that I patted him on the arm and told him it was all right. "I'm gonna like you a lot," Jenna said. "Charlie now has the superhots for you, but ignore that." When Daddy came home, he seemed pleased to see me wearing the skirt and top. I had dinner made but as we ate, he could see that something was bothering me. When he asked me, I told him about having met Jenna and her invitation, and he was thrilled. Of course, I could go. "That's not it," I explained. "I came home and looked through my...my clothes. The only swimsuit I have is a one-piece with this little skirt on it, and I couldn't possibly wear that to the pool." To my utter shock, he understood immediately. He suggested that right after dinner we go out shopping for a few new things for me. "After all," he said, "I have a feeling that you're going to want more than just a couple of bikinis." We fought over the bikinis. I knew we would. Negotiating was something Daddy did in his job, and he was very good at it. Thongs were out. Period. It was utterly non-negotiable. But the apple didn't fall that far from the tree, and I insisted that if thongs were out, strings were in. He agreed, as long as there was decent coverage of my cute little tush. I told him flattery would not affect me, but it did and I agreed, as long as he agreed (I added before it was too late) that I could have pretty much free reign over the top. In the end, I found three deliciously sexy string bikinis, only one of which had two triangles of coverage on top with lots of string in between. The Bikini Settlement over, we turned to other things. On the whole, I liked my casual wardrobe. The only thing I wanted to add to it was a pair of high heeled casual sandals, like Candies. Daddy frowned at the heel height, but agreed. I added two dresses, one hot pink and the other a really nice teal. Jenna had said there was a dance at the pool in a couple of weeks and I wanted to be ready. Daddy was surprised that the dresses weren't as short as he'd feared. A few dressy tops would go a long way, I decided, and then we stopped for shoes. I wanted heels to go with my new dresses, and when I saw Daddy's jaw set, I backed off the 4" sandals I really wanted and settled for 3 ?" with a ?" platform sole. Then we came to a little lingerie shop. "Daddy, would you mind waiting out here?" I asked as sweetly as I knew how. "I don't think that..." "Daddy, this is underwear and maybe a nighty or two. No one is going to see this, except possibly Jenna when we get changed in the locker room. Pleeeeaaasssseee????" I kissed him on the cheek and the last of his resistance gave way. He peeled off three 50-dollar bills and told me that was my limit. Luckily for me, they had a number of things on sale. Daddy would have been surprised that I did not wear the skimpiest bikini to the town pool. I didn't want to be considered a slut. I wore one that was hot pink, though, and Jenna was impressed. She checked out my boobs as we were getting changed, and I checked out hers. Mine were a little bigger, but her nipples were no longer puffy. On the whole, I thought that I was a little better looking than she; while she was a blonde, her features were a little angular, while mine were softer. Her eyes were blue, but my brown eyes were a bit larger. I slipped back into my high-heeled sandals, which made me an inch or so taller than Jenna, and we made our way out to the pool. Squealing voices called out to Jenna, and we walked over to a group of four other girls - Kate, Madison, Ashleigh and Kristen. Jenna introduced me as Jaclyn. "Hi," they all said in a chorus. "Can we call you Jackie?" Madison asked. "Sure," I said with a shrug. Jenna smiled at me and I was immediately welcomed into the group. It was obvious that she had told them about me. The conversation, which continued while Jenna and I spread sunblock on each other, was really my orientation. Madison was the leader of the group. As assertive as Jenna had been when it was just the two of us, that disappeared when Maddie was around. She was short, with slightly thick thighs and very well- developed breasts, a C-cup for sure, and so she was bound to be the focus of the boys. Ashleigh and Kristin were very nice girls and quite cute. While Ash had boobs about like mine, she had the beginnings of an acne problem. Kristin had very little on top and was very self-conscious about it. Kate was the quietest of the group. She was the best listener, I could tell, and she had a quiet reserve that could be off-putting until you got to know her. She never cut up anyone, no matter what anyone else said, and I thought that she was very pretty in an understated sort of way, a kind of classic beauty. We had gone to the snack bar for lunch when we saw a group of boys whom the girls instantly recognized. Mark, the leader, was the resident touch guy and he immediately began to show off for all of us, but especially for Maddie. The rest of the boys ogled her openly, much to our collective disgust. "Hey," he said, looking at me. "Who's this?" "What a charmer," Maddie said, rolling her eyes. "This is Jackie, who just moved in near Jenna. We've warned her that the boys around here are not nearly as evolved as the girls." We giggled and I blushed a little. "Jackie," she went on, "this is Mark. Everyone has a special gift, and his is crudeness. That's Kevin, Bart, Steve, Kyle, Brian, Jim and Justin." "Hi, guys," I said. Eight pairs of eyes ran over me, appraisingly. A few came to rest on my boobs, others on the crotch of my bikini. Kyle looked at my eyes, and I met his gaze and smiled a little. "Mind if we join you?" Mark asked. "Which answer will make you all go away?" Jenna asked. The boys pulled up benches and sat down with us. "Hey, Kris," Mark said. "You're still a carpenter's dream - flat as a board and easy to screw." The boys howled but we saw the hurt on Kristin's face, and we all got up to leave. "Hey!" Mark said, "I was only joking." "No, asshole," Maddie said. "A joke is funny, that was stupid." We stormed off in a huff, but I noticed that while all the other boys looked either shocked or put out, Kyle just watched me go. Not wanting to risk my newly found female solidarity, I made sure I didn't meet his gaze. Later, some of us went for a dip in the pool while Maddie, Jenna and Ashleigh worked on their tans. After swimming a bit, I came up for air. Kyle was right beside me. "Hi," he said. "Hi." "I'm sorry about what happened back there." "Don't apologize to me. I'm not the one whose feelings were hurt." He flushed red. Even in the glare of the sun off the surface of the water, I could see it. "I know. I just wanted you to know I felt badly about it." What would it be like to kiss him? I was stunned at the sudden thought. It wasn't helped by the fact that he was obviously trying very hard not to stare at my boobs. I decided that female solidarity only went so far. "It's okay. Just be nice to Kristin the next time you see her." Daddy finally confessed that he had been grappling with asking me for a favor that he still had some qualms about. He wanted to entertain his boss for dinner. "Invite him here," I said. "I'd love to cook for guests." "Sweetheart, you don't understand. This would be for him and his wife. It would be a big thing for you, and..." "I'd love to do it. Please, Daddy, if I'm really as good as you say I am, then it should be a snap." There was something else. He wanted to invite someone else. "A girlfriend?" I asked, not at all certain about how I felt about the idea. "A woman who is a good friend, but she is not a girlfriend. I'm not ready for that, sweetie, and I have no idea if I ever will. But she is a very good friend and I have confided in her a lot since Mom first got sick. I really want her to meet you, and I'm hoping you two will become friends, too." It sounded an awful lot like a girlfriend to me, but I told him that would be fine. The dinner, which was the following Saturday night, would be for five. I was getting dressed that night, having already gotten dinner almost completely prepared. I'd prepared mushrooms saut?ed in red wine with shallots and a little garlic; I had asparagus ready to steam in the microwave, really nice salad...all I needed was to grill the filets mignon, which I would do when everyone had arrived. One good thing about being a 13-year-old is that you don't have to play hostess. Melissa Benning, Daddy's friend, did that. She was few years younger than he, an attractive professional woman, rather tall, slim, graceful, short hair, expressive eyes. For a moment, I had the eerie feeling that I'd met her before, but it flitted away as quickly as it had come. She was surprised at my appearance. At the last minute, I had decided to wear a black sleeveless sheath dress of Mom's. Since I was a little shorter and less well-endowed than she had been, what had been a sizzling LBD on her was almost demure on me, if a little on the mature side - just the look I'd been looking for. I wore the dressy sandals I'd recently bought, and they went perfectly, as did the pendant. I liked Melissa right away, even her mild disapproval of my dress. She offered to help, but I declined. She seemed impressed that I knew my way around the kitchen as well as I did. Mr. and Mrs. Favreau arrived about a half hour after Melissa. Mr. Favreau had a roving eye that undressed me immediately, a fact that did not go unnoticed by either Mrs. Favreau or Melissa. All through dinner, I caught him staring at me, and I was glad then for Melissa's conversation, which thankfully was not of the "what kind of friends have you made" variety, and which allowed me to converse and at the same time flirt a little with Mr. Favreau. Nothing overt, of course. Just a shy little smile whenever he complimented my cooking, which he did quite often. He seemed to like it quite a lot when I asked Daddy if it would be all right if I had a little wine with dinner, and even more so when I sipped it and gazed at him over the top of the glass. After dinner, Daddy and the Favreaus retired to the living room while Melissa insisted on helping me with the cleanup. "You handled that like a pro," she said to me in the kitchen. "I'm very impressed." I thanked her. "You handled him like a pro, too. The boss, that is. Dangerous to flirt with a married man when his wife is around, though, and dangerous to flirt with a man like him any time." I looked at her, perplexed. "Men like him don't take no for an answer, Jaclyn. You may have lit a fuse that can't be put out. Don't ever let yourself be alone with him." I shivered a little, and she came to me and gave me a hug. "You are a delightful young woman, Jaclyn. I hope we can get to be good friends." "Like you are with my dad?" I asked. She caught the note of challenge. "Yes, very much like that. I knew your mother. She was a lovely woman, intelligent and graceful, and she loved you beyond measure. You're so much like her." Daddy got a big promotion at work, and he said the dinner helped. I didn't believe it until he got a big bonus and set up a $10,000 mutual fund account in my name and gave me $1,000 as a gift. I put it aside and took a little every time Jenna and the girls suggested going to the mall. I wore the teal dress to the pool dance. I expected that only the older kids would dance, but even most of them just hung around in groups. Jenna and I danced together with the other girls, and Mark and the boys stared at us from the sidelines, but no one made a move. I was just coming out of the ladies room when I bumped into Kyle. He looked really nice in his dress slacks and dress shirt and shoes, and it occurred to me that he was actually one of the nicest looking of the group of boys I'd met. To my surprise - and his, I think - he asked me to dance. He was terrible at it. He looked like a puppet being dangled and shaken violently by the puppeteer. An older guy made a crack, and he just kind of stopped. "Let's go over there," I said. "It's too hot to dance." We chatted a little bit. He asked me if I was nervous about starting school, and I told him that I was. "You'll be fine. Some of the kids are real a-holes, but some are nice." "I know," I said with a smile. "I'm with a nice one right now." He seemed stunned by the little compliment. He stared into my eyes. I smiled back at him, but it didn't do any good. I tilted my head a little to one side. I don't think I could have been any more obvious about it unless I just kissed him myself. "I...I like you, Jackie." "I know," I said with a giggle. "I recognize all the signs. And I like you, too, very, very much." At last, the light bulb of recognition when on over his head. He blushed a little, then bent slightly and let his lips brush so softly against mine. He started to pull away but I put my arms around his neck. I had wanted him to be my first kiss, and I wasn't going to be deprived now. He put his arms hesitatingly around my waist and drew me to him. I could feel him trembling slightly, but the kiss grew stronger. Melissa started coming around to visit me during the day, making good on her pledge to be a good friend. I told her about the girls and the things we talked about. I told her about Kyle, and even about my first kiss; she smiled at that. "It won't be long before he wants more," she said, and I giggled. Then I turned serious. "I sometimes feel like I want more right now," I said. "That's normal. You're just beginning to discover your own sexuality." It was a little strange, the way she said it. It was almost like she knew something about me that I didn't know. Or remember. Hmmm. Where did that come from? Still, she was a really nice companion, not quite a mother figure, more like a wise older sister. I was soon confiding in her completely. School started. I hated the uniform, a blue plaid pleated skirt and white blouse. We were allowed and even encouraged to wear pantyhose, but of course heels were not allowed. Most of the girls wore either navy or black hose, but I liked tan. Maddie had lost her mind, I decided, because she was now going with Mark. The rest of the boys were now split between continuing to ogle Maddie, risking a pounding from Mark, who was insanely jealous, and chasing the rest of us. The first day of school was the first time I spoke to Kyle after the dance, which was a little odd. He wasn't sure how to approach me, and after twenty minutes of waiting for him to come to me, I got fed up. As I walked to where we were lining up in the schoolyard, I passed him and gave him a breezy, "Hi, Kyle" and kept going. It wasn't until I was on my way home after school that he ran up from behind. I was walking with Jenna, who was very amused, but Kyle ignored her and asked if he could walk me home. We had just reached the turnoff to Jenna's block, so she went her way and we went mine. "You never called me," I said. "You never came to see me. And today, you didn't even say hello to me!" "I'm sorry, Jaclyn. Really, I am. I just..." "Why did you call me that?" I asked. His use of my full name was something of a shock, as I'd already been rather bludgeoned into accepting a nickname. He was taken aback by the question. "It's a really pretty name," he said. "I like it a lot. I'm sorry if you don't want me to use it." For some reason, that made me laugh. "No, I actually prefer it. But everyone seems to want to call me Jackie, so I let them." "I get it," he said. "Fitting in and all that. Well, can I at least call you Jaclyn in private?" I nodded, touched by his thoughtfulness. We slipped in behind the long garage that served the garden apartments, and he kissed me. We kissed for a long time, and then he walked me home. Five minutes after I got inside, the phone rang. It wasn't very good timing, because at that moment I was lying naked on my bed, my clothes scattered all over the floor, tweaking my nipples and plunging my fingers into a very private, wet place. But, since it might be Daddy, I answered it. "Hi," came Melissa's breezy voice. "I got you at a bad time, didn't it?" she asked after my rather tepid response. "Kind of," I said, being more honest than I'd thought I'd want. "I was going to come see you. But if it's really a bad time, just say so." The gnawing desire between my legs was already starting to cool. "No, that's okay." She arrived a short while later. By that time, I was dressed in white shorts and a pink tee shirt. I was also wearing the pendant. "That's so pretty," she said. "Do you wear it all the time?" "Not all the time. But I like it a lot." I told her about Kyle, how he hadn't called me, how he'd been in school, and then how he was when he caught up to me coming home. "Boys at this age just don't have the confidence," she said with a laugh. "Or else they have too much. It takes time for them to get it right." "I don't mind." "No, I can see that. He must be a really nice boy, probably very sweet, a little shy. And I'm sure all those things are exactly what make you like him." "How did you know that?" I asked her. I wasn't accusing. But her complete sense of who I was and how I felt made me wonder if she was in some way responsible for what had happened to me. I suddenly felt insecure, afraid it was all going to be taken away from me. "Because there is some of that in you," she replied. "If you were a boy, I dare say you'd be much the same way: quiet, shy and very sweet." I was terrified. My eyes began to fill. Reflexively, I grabbed the pendant. "You're going to take it away from me!" I whispered. She looked at me quizzically for a moment before she replied. "Take what away, Jaclyn? The pendant? I would never take that. Your mother bought you that." "Not the pendant..." "What, then?" I backed away, but she followed me into the living room. I sat in the easy chair and she sat opposite me on the ottoman. I felt trapped. "What are you afraid to lose, Jaclyn?" Somehow, her use of my name made me relax a little. But I couldn't answer her question. If I told her the truth, she'd think I was insane. "Everything," I said at last, tears beginning to stream in earnest. "Tell me, sweet girl." She knew. I suddenly realized that she already knew this. She wanted me to say it. Would saying it allow me to stay as I was or force me to go back. "Don't send me back," I begged. "Back to where, Jaclyn?" Suddenly, it was as if a dam burst and everything came out in a torrent. "I want to stay here, loved by my Daddy, with my friends Jenna and Maddie and Kate and everyone. I want to be Kyle's girlfriend and let him kiss me and touch me, and go out on dates and hold hands. I want to go to dances and proms, wear dresses and heels and jewelry and perfume, have men want me even if I don't want them and find someone to love and make love with, be a bridesmaid and then a bride, have sex, lots of sex, wonderful sex, and have babies and be a loving, wonderful mother..." "And cook," she said with a teary smile. "Yes, and..." It was only then I realized she was crying. She hugged me tightly. "Jaclyn, darling, whatever makes you think that any of that could be taken away from you? You are a lovely girl, on your way to being a wonderful woman. What are you afraid of?" I couldn't. I had to. If I did, she'd know I was insane. Maybe I was. I fumbled for the pendant. Melissa reached around and unclasped it. She pulled it out of my hand before I could get hold of it. "I know how much you love this," she said. "But you must trust me. I promise I will give it back when we are finished." "Finished what?" "What are you afraid of?" The words wouldn't come. At last, I forced them out in a hoarse whisper. "Changing back." It was a relief to have it out in the open. Melissa did not seem surprised in the least. "Into what?" she asked. "A...a...boy." "You mean, Jack?" I stared at her, and her mention of the name. She smiled at me. "Tell me, Jaclyn, how do you think you changed from Jack?" "I don't know. It just happened. I was wearing Mom's clothes, I don't know why, and I fainted or fell asleep or something, and when I woke up, I was suddenly a girl. "It was like magic." "No." "But it was. Daddy came home and woke me up, and he wasn't at all surprised. It was like I'd always been a girl. And when I went to bed that night, I had all girl clothes, and the next day, I had a hairbrush and cosmetics and everything." "I know." "So, where did Jack go and where did I come from?" She took my hands in hers. "Jack came from your mind. As a young child, you went into your mother's closet early one morning to play dress-up and you fell and hit your head. You suffered a severe concussion, and somehow you remained fixated on your father yelling at you. As far as I can tell, you thought he was angry because you were a girl, but in reality he was afraid he was going to lose you. "You came out of the hospital convinced you were a boy. You refused to wear skirts or dresses or girl's clothes of any kind. You only answered to Jack, and your parents moved to a new town so that you could be raised as a boy." "That can't be true," I insisted. "I remember dressing up in Mom's clothes." "Yes, once, two years ago. She was so overjoyed she played along. She contacted me hoping that it might be the beginning of your coming out of it, but then she got sick and nothing else happened with you. "After she died, I urged your father to move, to give you someplace where you could start fresh. The night he came home and found you, he called me, crying with joy. Before he woke you, he packed all of your boy things away in a steamer trunk he keeps in the attic, in which he always kept a supply of girl things in case you came out of it, and those are what you found in your room." "But, I had...a penis. I know I did." "You had, and still have, a slightly larger than normal clitoris. I'm guessing that you fantasized that it was a penis. If you'd ever seen a real one, it might have given you a serious jolt." I told her about my encounter a few years earlier. "You didn't run out because of modesty," she said with a laugh. "You ran out because you knew your fantasy was about to crumble." "How do you know all this?" I asked at last. "I'm a neuropsychologist. I was called in on your case before you were released from the hospital." She refastened the pendant around my neck and kissed me on the cheek. "No one is going to take anything away from you," she said.