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SUBSTITUTE WIFE By Annie James 1 - BETTER TIMES AHEAD "You want to work on this project, you work in the kitchen. Take it or leave it!" growled the superintendent. "I'll take it," I answered. "Just until there's a job open on the construction though." "Kid, there won't be any job open for a fifteen year old, especially one as small and skinny as you." "I told you. I'm twenty-three. I've got my Birth Certificate to prove it." "I don't want to see your brother's Birth Certificate. To me you're a kid and that's that. I'm telling you where you can work. You goin' to take it or not?" "I already told you I would." "Don't get snotty with me, Sonny. Now, what's your name." "John Johnson." "You any relation to the John Johnson, who's the engineer on this project?" "Not that I know of. I never heard of another John Johnson. Would it help if I was related?" "Not now. You already tol' me you ain't. Your name might do you some good in the kitchen though. The woman in charge is named Thelma Johnson. You can report to her as soon as you finish filling out this employment application. Tell her I sent you over to replace the one who left this morning." In spite of being treated like a kid, I was glad to get the job. Except for a sandwich offered by the friendly truck driver who had picked me up at the side of the road and brought me over the last hundred miles of gravel road to this construction site, I had had nothing to eat for the past eighteen hours. Orphaned just before my High School graduation, I had been drifting for the past five years, working from time to time at odd jobs, always low- paying, and always moving on in search of something better. Something better never seemed to materialize and the gaps between jobs seemed to be getting longer and longer. This time I had run completely out of money and could not afford the luxury of refusing another menial post. Much of my difficulty in finding a better job seemed to be related to my youthful appearance. With only the skimpiest trace of a beard and dressed as I was in my T-shirt, jeans, and runners, most persons took me for a teenager who should still be in school. Without a High School Diploma I lacked any means of convincing them otherwise. Now once more I was being relegated to a menial job because of my looks. Thelma Johnson, the woman in charge of the kitchens and dining room was younger and more attractive than I had anticipated. She appeared to be in about her late twenties and was casually but neatly dressed. "I'm glad you're here," was her immediate response when I had introduced myself. "Bob's leaving so suddenly has left us short of waiters. You can start your first shift as soon as you stow your gear in the bunkhouse. You do look young, though. I hope you don't have the same trouble he ran into." "What sort of trouble?" I asked. "One of the heavy equipment operators took a shine to him. Bob did everything possible to discourage him, but last night the man came in drunk, then followed Bob when he left at the end of his shift. Apparently he dragged Bob back to his own quarters. Bob was still crying when he left on the bus this morning." "Did the man get fired?" "He should have been, but he's the only one who can do his job. They decided that the superintendent would give him a talking to and that he would be put on a sort of probation. I can't say that I blame Bob for leaving." Thelma Jamieson's ready acceptance of my statement that I was twenty- three years of age was a welcome change from the skepticism that I usually encountered. She asked for no proof, but I felt the usual urge to show her my Birth Certificate in any case. Her only comment was, "It is odd that you have the exact same name as my brother. He is six days older though, and was born in California instead of Maine. It's strange that you should both be working at the same construction site in Texas." Within an hour of my arrival at the camp, my gear, such as it was, was stowed in a locker beside a cot in the working men's dormitory, and after a quick lunch I found myself serving tables in the site's huge dining room along with five other servers, all girls or women. My uniform, consisting of dark trousers and white shirt along with black shoes, was supplied by the company as were the black skirts and white blouses worn by the waitresses. We worked steadily, first setting the tables, then carrying hot food from the kitchen as the workers ate, clearing empty bowls, used cutlery and dishes, resetting places for newcomers, bringing more hot food, and finally clearing and tidying after the last diners had finished their dessert and coffee. The work was not particularly difficult but because of the remoteness of the site we put in long hours and usually worked seven days a week. Most of us worked three hour shifts, three times a day, corresponding to breakfast, lunch and dinner. As well a single server worked in the between-meals and evening shifts while the dining room served as a restaurant-coffee shop for construction workers and others who were on site but for any reason not actively employed during any part of the day or evening. Good wages for this type of work along with abundant opportunities for overtime meant that, in spite of my disappointment at not being hired for construction, I would be able to build up a respectable nest egg in a reasonably short period of time. My co-workers were friendly but, since I was the only male among them, except for brief chats during our shifts, we had little social interaction. Many of them were married to construction workers and the young unattached ones had their free time monopolized by aspiring suitors. Like it or not I found myself a loner. 2 - TROUBLE BREWING By the end of my first week I had adjusted to my duties and to life at the site. With little to do in my spare time I spent most of it watching television in the common sitting room at the dormitory. Not being overly interested in sports however, which was the only thing most of the workers would watch in the evenings, I was less reluctant than the other servers to be a coffee-shop waiter in the evenings. Besides, sometimes some of the customers would leave tips and I was anxious to make my nest egg grow as quickly as possible. Indirectly it was this overtime activity which helped to make a serious problem into a crisis for me. Many times I had observed some of the waitresses having to fend off workers who tried to put hands on the back of their legs and up under their skirts while they carried large serving bowls to the tables during meals. When a similar thing happened to me, that is a man ran his hand up the back of my leg, I reacted with shock and spilled half a tureen of soup in his neighbour's lap. "I'm sorry, Sir," I hastened to apologize, "but I'm not one of the girls, so they shouldn't try to treat me like one." "Oh, ain't you now?" he sneered in reply. He looked up from wiping himself off with the serviettes I handed him, to read the nameplate pinned to my shirt. "John, eh! Bet your mother wanted it to be Joan. That must be why you're working at a girl's job. Did she call you Johnie or Joanie?" "I did apologize, Sir, so there's no need for you to be nasty." "Nasty, am I? You don't know the half of it." He stood up and looked around the room. "Listen up, guys," he suddenly announced. "This little kitten says her nickname is Joanie!" Everyone in the room laughed while my face got redder and redder. For the balance of the meal I kept being asked, "Joanie, will you bring me some more potatoes?" "Joanie, will you refill my coffee cup?" or, "Joanie, are you sure you won't spill the soup on me if my neighbour grabs your leg?" The kidding was mostly in good fun so I gritted my teeth and bore it with all the stoicism I could muster, expecting that it would be all past and forgotten by the next meal. Unfortunately for me, although most of the kidding stopped within a day, the nickname stuck. From that day forward I was "Joanie" to all and sundry, even the girls with whom I worked. Having a nickname was not all bad. At least it meant that people knew who I was and I usually received a smile and a greeting whenever I met any of the work crew. Some even went out of their way to be friendly. One type of attention I did not relish however. Several of the men used my nickname as an excuse to put their hands on me whenever I came by to serve them and one or two made suggestive remarks that might more usually be directed toward girls. One man in particular made me nervous whenever he was around. "Joanie, Honey, come and sit on my lap. I've got something between my legs for you." "How come your chest is so flat today, Joanie? Did you leave your falsies at home?" or "Get a load of those buns, guys. Isn't Joanie just the sexiest waitress you ever saw?" Such utterances invariably brought red to my cheeks. It was no doubt a mistake on my part to confront Max, the big beefy bulldozer operator who was author of most of my troubles, when I met him walking toward the pay office one Friday afternoon. His reaction to my complaints about his teasing astonished me. "Don't you realize," he asked, "that I really go for you? Whatever I've said in fun, I really mean. I know it makes you red in the face in front of the others, but I want you to smile to yourself that you're being complimented. I expect us to become much closer friends. In fact I intend to convince you that you'd like to move in with me." "I'm not that kind of person, thank you!" I declared. "Please leave me alone." "You don't know your own mind yet, Joanie," he replied. "Just think about it for the next couple of weeks. You're gonna just love the idea once you get used to it." At that moment we arrived at the pay office where he made a point of deferring to me at the door and in the line before the cashier's wicket. I hurried off as soon as I received my pay slip but could not help hearing his parting shot and the laughter which it engendered in the others present. "Bye-bye now, Joan, dear. Be sure to save some of your pay to go toward your trousseau." My efforts to avoid serving the table where Max sat, by switching duties with the other servers, must have come to the attention of Thelma because two days later she called me into her small office to inquire as to why I kept changing tables. I explained my problem and asked if she had any suggestions for solving it. "I can take a joke as well as anyone and I can stand it if people call me 'Joanie', but he frightens me. He says he wants me to be his girl friend and that he intends to make me want him like he wants me. It almost makes me sick." Thelma was sympathetic but offered no real suggestion for solving the problem other than to continue avoiding Max. "I'll speak to my brother about it though," she promised. "Maybe he'll have an idea." My shift at the coffee shop that very evening was marred by the arrival of Max who sat at a table by himself and stayed the entire evening nursing a coffee cup while he kept up a monologue directed at me in a low voice whenever I passed nearby. "I've worn my best pants and jacket this evening just to impress you, Joanie. What do you think of them?" "Do you like to watch television, Honey? I've just bought a new twenty- eight inch set for my trailer." "How would you like to go for a car ride with me on Sunday? You could bring sandwiches and we could have a picnic at the beach?" "I'd like it very much if you brought your bathing suit along. You've got a really sexy body." "It would be even better if we could get away by ourselves and go skinny-dipping together." "Will you let me walk you back to the dormitory after your shift, Joanie? I promise not to touch you and I'll be on my best behaviour. I won't embarrass you?" This latter was said in a serious but pleading tone. If I had been a girl I might have been touched by his determination to win my favour. As it was, a chill of fear enveloped me as I began to realize my helplessness in evading his advances. "I can't prevent you from walking in the same direction but your company is not welcomed." In the end I walked to the bunkhouse alone, though with the certainty that I was being followed and watched from behind. It made me conscious of my posture and I wondered what it was about me that so attracted Max. Did I unknowingly have a sexy wiggle to my hips? I endured a second evening shift under the watchful eye of my unwanted suitor and a third before our final confrontation. It came after I had put in a quiet shift in the coffee shop without the presence of Max. Instead I was confronted by him just after I had stepped outside in the darkness to return to my cot in the bunkhouse. A strong smell of liquor surrounded the bulking figure which stepped into my path with the announcement, "I've decided, Joanie, to speed things up. You're comin' with me right now to my trailer to find out I ain't so bad." "I'm not coming so get out of my way and let me pass." I attempted to step around him only to have my arm seized. "Let go or I'll scream!" One hand tightened its grip and the other reached out to cover my mouth. I was helpless as he forced me to walk along the path with him. He succeeded in getting me right up to the door of his private trailer but as he relaxed his grip to reach for his key I managed to twist free and dashed towards the bunkhouse. Desperation speeded my steps but even so I might have lost the race had it not been that several persons exited a nearby trailer just after I passed it. My pursuer suddenly stopped while I kept on at full speed until I reached the bunkhouse. Once inside I headed straight for my corner and flopped down on the cot. It was a long time before I stopped trembling enough to wash and change for bed. "That caps it," I thought. "Tomorrow I quit and head out of here even though I haven't saved as much as I was hoping for." 3 - A SOLUTION OF SORTS "That's it. You're just going to pack up and leave," said Thelma as I sat in her office after relating my tale of woe. "What choice do I have. It's only my word against his. He hasn't done anything in public but tease and that's just regarded as innocent fun in a construction camp. Sooner or later he's sure to catch me alone again." "I do hate to see you go, John. You're a good worker and you've been a good sport about your nickname. Everybody likes you for that." I stood up to leave and reached out to shake her hand. She stood also and stepped around the corner of the desk to take both of my hands in hers. "You know there is a way for you to stay, provided you're not afraid of more kidding. Are you interested?" "I'm willing to listen." "Good. Then sit down again." The gist of her idea was that I should move into the second bedroom of the cabin occupied by her brother the engineer. She said he would be happy to have someone take responsibility for the tidying and sweeping. My living there would imply to Max and to any other men so inclined that I was not available 'meat' to be actively pursued. Also since Thelma controlled the duty schedules of the food servers she could arrange it so I would not be alone to walk home after an evening shift. "The downside is that you will still be teased. They'll probably call you the 'John and Joan' act or something equally silly." she added. "Well, I can stand the teasing, but how do you know your brother will agree to being associated with me." "I've already spoken to him and he said it would be OK. He suggests that since your names are the same we should put it out that you are cousins. If the idea suits you, you can bring your gear to the dining hall at the afternoon shift and move into his place afterwards." Although I could recognize John Johnson by sight I had never up to that time exchanged two words with him. He was about my age and seemed friendly and approachable but, given the difference in our educational backgrounds and in our responsibilities, we seemed to have little to talk about even after we were housed under the same roof. If we eventually became friends it came about because Thelma quite often invited us both over to her quarters with others for an evening of board games or cards. The privilege of residing in the same place as a junior engineer eased my situation considerably. The teasing did not stop but my worries about inappropriate advances from that certain segment of the work force were removed. In particular there were no more direct approaches by Max. Being responsible for the laundry and housekeeping of the cabin was a small price to pay for peace of mind. On the job I responded cheerfully whenever anyone addressed me by my nickname. In truth I doubt if very many of them actually knew my Christian name. Even Thelma called me Joanie at times in the presence of a group of card players to distinguish me from her brother. By the end of my fourth month in the camp, three of them in shared quarters with my namesake, my nest egg had grown to a considerable sum and I was beginning to think that I might continue for another four months at which time I would have enough to enrol in a University, provided I could pass the entrance examination. When I spoke of my plans both John and Thelma offered encouragement and volunteered to tutor me as I prepared for the tests. The necessary books for this project had still not arrived when a glib remark which I made at the bridge table put me in hot water in a different way. Thelma and Doris, her Bridge partner, were quite offended when I expressed the view that, judging from my experience in the cabin, the ideal life must be that of a housewife, with little to do and lots of free time to spend as she wished. Both women took issue with my casual statement immediately while John tried without success to calm the waters by changing the subject. "You haven't the foggiest notion what a housewife goes through every day," fumed Doris. "If it's so easy why are so many married women out in the working world helping to support their families?" asked Thelma. "And what about all the separated women who are working and raising their children themselves?" Doris added. "Don't you think they'd stay married if a housewife has it so easy?" "Who remembers what the last bid was?" put in John, but the women refused to let go of the subject. "You wouldn't even last a month if you had to go through what a housewife does!" sneered Doris. Thinking to lower the level of the women's outrage by an injection of humour I smirked, "Well of course I lack the physical equipment for the bedroom scene." "And you lack the mental equipment for all the rest of it," was Doris's immediate rejoinder. John, who I later thought might have been aware of what was coming said nothing more, as Thelma added to her friend's verbal assault by daring me to prove that I could perform a housewife's duties for a month. She even offered to match whatever sum I was willing to bet on myself. Somewhat heated myself I responded, "I'd be glad to accept the challenge but where would you get an impartial judge? Any woman would be biased before I started." "I'll let you choose any man you want to be the judge, provided you accept the list of duties that Doris and I prepare. You couldn't get anything fairer than that." I turned to John for advice. "Do you think I should accept their challenge?" "I thought you already had, but I'm only an innocent bystander. You'll have to make your own decisions." "Could I count on you to be the judge?" "Not really. I haven't told anybody yet, but I'm starting an extended vacation three weeks from now, and after that I'll be reporting to another construction site at the other end of the country. I wouldn't be around to announce my decision." I turned back to Thelma. "I guess that ends the bet. I can't think of anyone else I'd accept as a judge." I failed to catch the implication of her final remark on the subject. "But you would be willing to take the bet if John were to be the judge." We finished the rubber and the evening of Bridge with everyone sticking to less controversial subjects. John opened up enough to let all of us know that his vacation would last three months and that his next assignment would be in Alaska. Everyone said how sorry they would be to see him go. It wasn't until the next day that it occurred to me that John's departure would leave me again with no protection against Max and others of his kind. I would once more become available 'meat' in the eyes of such predators. With that thought in mind I quickly determined that I would have to leave the camp at the same time as my cabin mate in spite of not saving enough for a year in college. When I confided this decision to Thelma she expressed regret at my going, but was unable to come up with a practical plan for my protection if I stayed. "At least this time you'll be leaving after proper notice, and I can get the Superintendent to sign a good letter of reference for you. It certainly won't be the same though without our 'Joanie' about. Everyone in the dining room will miss you. I'm sorry too that you won't get enough saved to go to college in the fall." John agreed readily that he would drive me the hundred miles to the nearest city in his motor home and those last three weeks at the site went by with amazing speed. On several evenings the same foursome met at Thelma's for more hands of bridge. I carefully avoided rising to the bait whenever Doris or Thelma brought up the duties of a housewife as a topic of discussion. Doris, in particular was fond of asking me such questions as, "Do you agree, Joanie, that the first duty of a wife is to keep herself looking attractive for her husband at all times?" I always reacted by conceding whatever point she made in order to avoid getting into another heated debate such as we had had before. "I'm sure it must be that way if you say so, Doris," I would reply. "Whose lead is it? I've forgotten who took the last trick." I was later to regret the casual way in which I so readily agreed with all her statements such as: "A wife is responsible for cooking and serving nutritious and tasty meals and for having them ready on time." "A husband can expect his wife to mend his socks and sew buttons on along with doing the laundry and the ironing." "Making the beds, dusting, vacuuming, and washing the dishes are all properly the wife's responsibility." "A wife should be ready at all times to change her plans to suit the wishes of her husband." I had no idea at the time why the two women were so intent on getting me to react to statements with which any feminist would take exception and with which they probably did not agree themselves. Their purpose only became clear to me at the time of my departure from the camp. Our leaving was scheduled for six in the morning, before the opening of the dining room, so Thelma invited us to her place for coffee and a bite of breakfast. This would have been unnecessary, because the motor home had a full kitchen, but she was very fond of her younger brother and insisted on doing this for him. We duly arrived at her door at five- thirty AM and quickly sat down to eat. Her friend Doris had also gotten up early specially to see us off. I don't remember getting up from the table. 4 - AN UNEXPECTED SHOCK "Ouch!" I complained and swung my right hand up to sweep a stinging fly off the bridge of my nose. I uttered, "Ouch!" again but this time my wrist was held so my arm did not respond. "Don't!" I protested when I felt another bite. "I guess that's enough anyway," came the voice of Doris as I slowly opened my eyes to find her in front of me holding a pair of tweezers. "She's awake now, Thelma." I pushed myself to a sitting position on the couch where I had been lying and swung my feet to the floor. "What's going on?" I asked as I noticed Thelma also standing by my side. "We've been helping you prepare for the bet you made with us. Stand up now and come look at yourself." Hands grasped me by each arm to help me rise and I was propelled across the room to face a wall mirror. A strange face stared out from the glass at me. At first I did not recognize the pretty young person with the blond streak in a bouffant hairdo, carefully thinned and shaped eyebrows, and rosy lips. I gasped as the realization struck home. Crimson fingernails flashed in the glass as my hands rose involuntarily to feel the two projecting mounds under a yellow T-shirt. I struggled to try to read the red letters on the shirt. "Didn't we do a grand job of getting you ready?" asked a voice from beside me. "What do you mean? Ready for what?" I managed to get out. "For your bet, silly. You said you would take the bet provided John would be the judge. We've persuaded him to do it. So for the next month you'll have to show just what a good wife you can be. We've already given John the list of your duties." "I won't do it! Not this way. You're making a fool out of me." "Very well. Pay Thelma your savings then before we remove your make-up and straighten your hair." "Pay her! Why should I pay her? I refuse to go along with this. I'm sure John will agree with me." At just that moment John walked in the door. "Ah, Joanie," he said, "I see you're awake and ready to go. The girls said you would look attractive. I do like the blond streak in your hair." I frowned, "Not you too! You're not going along with this ridiculous idea are you?" "I didn't want to but the girls persuaded me, and after all you had already agreed," he answered. "I didn't agree to dress like this." He shrugged his shoulders. "You agreed to let them set the rules and that's the first one on their list. Say good bye and let's get going now. It's three hours later than when I planned to leave." I turned toward the girls. "I'll get even with you for this!" I threatened. "You'll be more than even if you win the bet," said Thelma stepping forward to give me a hug and a peck on the cheek. I could feel her breasts against my falsies and her hand on the bra strap across my back. "Here's your purse with your wallet and a lipstick," said Doris as she stepped up to hug me in her turn. "We sewed up the pockets of your jeans so you would have to carry it just like any woman would. You can let it hang from your shoulder if you like." John led the way and the two women escorted me to the motor home. The door was opened and I was helped to climb up into the passenger seat. While John was going around to get in the other side, they said their good byes to me through the open window. "So long, Joanie. We're counting on you. You should enjoy keeping house in a motor home. Be sure to send postcards to tell us how you're doing." I watched while they stood waving as the vehicle pulled away. Then John reminded me to do up my seat belt. As I looked down to find the fastenings I was able to read the red letters printed on my yellow T- shirt. The words were, 'John's girl, Joanie.' 4 - THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE The shoulder belt pressing my T-shirt between the cups of my bra served as a continuing reminder of the fix I found myself in. Thelma had insisted on depositing my bankbook and bankcard in the camp safe for the duration of our bet, so running away was not an option unless I were willing to say good bye to all my savings. For the next month I would be totally dependent on John for all my financial or other needs. I decided to sound out his attitude toward my situation. "Why did you agree to go along with this scheme?" I began. "You could say I was blackmailed. My sister knows a lot of things about me which I wouldn't want the public to know." "I hope you're not going to insist that I wear a bra and make-up every day." He glanced toward me. "My instructions are to help you as much as possible, but to let you make your own decisions. Make-up looks good on you, by the way." "It makes me feel like a fool." "If it makes you feel any better, the girls want you to win this bet," was his response. We drove for an hour in silence before he drew off at a rest stop. "I'm going over to the washroom now," he announced. "You can either do the same or else set out the sandwiches which Thelma prepared and make the tea. You'll have to turn the water pump on and light the gas stove. I'll open the gas at the tank before I leave." "There's no way I'm going out in public dressed like this," I answered and walked back to explore the tiny kitchen. By the time he returned I had managed to lay out a platter of sandwiches along with side plates and cups while the kettle was just coming to a boil. As we sat at the table it was strange to lift sandwiches to my mouth with fingers tipped in crimson. John made a point of commenting that the polished nails emphasized the slenderness of my hands and fingers. No mention was made of the gold band circling the fourth finger on my left hand. Afterwards he offered to dry while I washed the few dishes and utensils. Forced by my full bladder to make a washroom stop, I was nonplused when John insisted that I use the public facilities. "You have to make your debut sometime," went his reasoning, "and it will be easier here where there are few people. It will help to prepare you for grocery shopping later in the day." "And don't worry," he added, "you look fine." I may have looked fine but I certainly startled a man at the urinal when I entered the washroom after a nervous walk across the parking lot. My face reddened and I turned quickly when I finally realized he was speaking to me with the words, "Lady, this is the men's washroom!" Minutes later in a lavatory cubicle in the room labeled 'Women' I was pleased to note that the zipper in my jeans still worked and my BVD's retained their fly front. I had a feeling of small triumph as I stood to relieve myself. John, sitting in the driver's seat ready to go, watched as I walked back to our vehicle. "There, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" he remarked as I took my seat. "You looked like a real lady coming across the lot. I can give you one little hint, though." "What's that?" "Walk with your head up and your shoulders back. You should show that you are proud of those headlights on your chest." I made no reply but I did not receive that piece of advice gratefully. It determined me to make no mention of my misadventure in the wrong washroom. He made one more suggestion as we settled into a two hour stretch of driving. "You can use the mirror on the back of the sun visor while you freshen your lipstick. Most women would do it before leaving the washroom." "Surely you're aware that I'm not a woman!" I responded sarcastically. "Oh, very aware, but you have such a pretty smile that I tend to forget. Please! Smile at me now. Pretty please!" I tried to keep a straight face but his friendly banter overcame my resolve and I broke into a grin. He smiled back at me and commented, "Remember, I'm on your side." Dutifully I reached for the purse on the seat beside me and took out the lipstick. With the sun visor turned down I stared at my altered face in the mirror, held my lips apart and began carefully to apply the colour. Satisfied, I blotted them with tissue before turning up the mirror and returning the lipstick to the purse. I had taken a first tentative step in meeting the challenge of my enforced impersonation. "Does that look all right?" I asked, turning toward John. We laughed together after he answered with another grin, "Very kissable. You mustn't tempt me." Later I frowned to myself that I had been so easily conned into cooperating. In mid-afternoon we parked at a mall on the outskirts of a small city. John expertly manoeuvred our large machine through the crowded lot to a clear space on the outer edge of the pavement. I was given a shopping list prepared in advance by Thelma along with a hundred dollars, and told that now was the time when groceries must be purchased. Reluctantly I placed the money in my purse. "Aren't we going together to do this?" The answer did not please me. "According to the list it's your responsibility to buy the groceries." "That doesn't mean you can't help me. Lots of husbands help with the groceries." "Be careful, you're starting to nag. That's against the rules. Anyway I have some other shopping to do. I'll walk as far as the store with you." I received his injunctions to hold my head up straight, take shorter steps, and to relax, "Nobody's going to bite you," rather sullenly but did my best to comply. The purse hung from my shoulder and I gripped it tightly, as much from nervousness as from fear of snatchers. I expected each passerby to stare and shout out that I was a fraud. To my surprise John grasped my elbow as we stepped over a high curb. It was as if he were expressing his support and confidence in me. As we parted at the entrance to the store he again took my arm, squeezed it, and cautioned me to relax. "Remember, Joanie, I have my fingers crossed for you." Collecting everything on the list took longer than necessary because I hesitated to ask for help in locating things, but at last I was ready to push my full cart up to the cashier. When my turn came I placed the items on the counter and waited for them to be checked through. "That will be eighty-six seventy-three," announced the checkout girl and I paid without saying a word. Just as she finished counting out the change into my hand, instead of wishing me a good day, she blurted out, "Gee I like the way you have your hair! Do you mind me asking if you had it done here at the mall?" My attempt to avoid speaking was disrupted by her question and I was forced to answer softly, "No, a friend did it for me." "It's really nice!" was her parting remark as I followed the parcel boy out of the store and led the way across the lot to the motor home. John was waiting to help stow the groceries and in a short time we were once more under way. I told him that the cashier had gone out of her way to compliment me on my hair and he replied, "I agree with her. She must have good taste." We pulled into a campground about five-thirty and while John attended to the registration and made the necessary electrical and water connections I began to prepare supper. In spite of the written directions provided by Thelma it took me nearly two hours. John had almost finished the crossword puzzle in the newspaper by the time I called him to the table. He was complimentary about the meal and did not complain about how long it had taken to prepare. When I refused his offer to dry the dishes, which took a bit of self-discipline on my part and was motivated by guilt about the lateness of the meal, he turned on the television. When the kitchen was tidied I joined him to watch a situation comedy, but began to yawn almost immediately. "The bedroom will be yours but you will have to make up the couch out here for me. The bedclothes are in that overhead cupboard." I stood and stretched, becoming conscious at the same time of the way my T-shirt stretched over my false bosom, then moved to get the bedding. When I had finished the task I started for the bedroom. "You can take a shower if you like," called John, "but don't forget to wear a shower hat. Oh, and I should remind you to remove your make-up with cold cream before you climb into bed. You'll find a parcel on the bed that contains your night wear." When I opened the parcel to find a pink silk nightgown, I reacted with shock. "Surely I'm not expected to wear this," I called out, "I'd rather sleep naked." "Suit yourself. I promise not to investigate, so I won't have to report you to the girls," was his reply. In the bathroom I removed my shoes while I sat on the toilet. As my socks followed I was astounded to find that my toenails sported the same crimson as my fingertips. While standing at the sink to cream away my make-up it was evident to me that the thin curved line of my plucked eyebrows, combined with my bouffant hairdo, would still signal femininity to any onlooker. Without doubt though, my greatest shock of the whole incredible day came after I had removed my jeans and T-shirt. With an arm wrenching twist I managed to reach behind my back to unfasten the pink satin bra. The straps slipped from my shoulders and the bra fell to the floor, --but the breasts, falsies to be sure, remained firmly in place. "My God!" I shouted. "What have they done to me?" "What's wrong, Joanie? Are you all right?" came an answering call from John. "It's the falsies. They won't come off." "I guess I should have warned you. The girls used some special glue that won't let go for nearly a month. You'll have to get used to them." I was forced to admit to myself in the shower that he was right, as the hot water coursing down over me showed no sign of loosening the swellings with which I had been adorned since morning. Their colour matched my skin very closely and the lines where they were joined to my flesh were almost invisible. Wryly I thought, "I could almost pass muster in a nudist camp. Not if anyone looked between my legs though!" After drying myself, I followed instructions to drop my dirty clothes into the laundry hamper, then wrapped a large towel around myself, including my recently acquired appendages, and scampered into the bedroom. I hesitated only a moment before slipping the silky nightdress over my head. The feeling was delicious as it slithered down over my body. I turned off the light and climbed into bed. "Good night," I called out through the door. "Good night, Joanie," came back the response, "but before you go to sleep tell me what you thought of your experiences today." "It's been the worst day of my whole life!" I answered vehemently. As I turned on my side however, the sensuous feel of my sleek gown began to excite me and I remained in a state of semi-arousal until sleep conquered my weary senses. Several times during the night my newly acquired appendages forced me to roll back after trying to sleep on my stomach. 5 - DIFFICULT ADJUSTMENT "Time to rise, Joanie." A hand touched my bare arm above the elbow. I opened my eyes slowly to see John's eyes looking down at me. "I've laid your dressing gown across the bed and your slippers are on the floor." He was closing the door behind himself as he left the room while I slowly sat up. I swung my feet over the side of the bed, becoming aware as I did so of the smooth way my gown slid over the sheets with me. The slippers were pink satin, slip-on style, with open toes and narrow heels more than an inch in height. I teetered a little at first as I stood up in them. The dressing gown was of heavy pink satin, double breasted with big buttons, long flowing skirt, a wide collar and full sleeves buttoned at each wrist. I slid my arms into the sleeves and just held it around me as I rushed to the bathroom to relieve my full bladder. Before leaving the bathroom I rewrapped the luxurious garment around me properly, right lapel over left and fastened the buttons. A glance in the mirror showed my hair in disarray so I took a moment to run the brush through it. My minor grooming effort was rewarded by recognition from John as I entered the kitchen area. He greeted me with the words, "You certainly look alluring for so early in the morning. You must be taking the first item on Thelma's list seriously: Always keep yourself neat and attractive to please your husband." I smiled self-consciously at this compliment while he handed me an apron. "I like bacon and eggs in the morning along with coffee," he added. "I'll take my shower while you're getting it ready." Dutifully I started preparing breakfast. He could be heard singing in the shower as I worked. I enjoyed the feel of my silken garments caressing my body as I moved about. It took genuine mental effort to suppress an incipient erection. By the time John emerged, now dressed for the day, having changed from his cotton pyjamas and robe, the coffee was ready and he sat at the table drinking his first cup while I stood by the stove to turn the bacon. Then I served our plates and sat down at the table across from him. I finished first and would have gotten up at once to put away the bedding from his cot and to make my own bed, but he insisted, or rather asked, that I sit longer and relax over a second cup of coffee. Still fighting that threatened erection, I poured for us both and sat back on my bench. When we rose I accepted his offer of help with the dishes and then he pored over his road maps while I attended to the bedding. I had just straightened the covers on my own bed when he appeared in the doorway of the room with a bundle of clothing in his arm. I was rather dismayed when I saw what he laid across the bed. "Does this mean I've got to wear a skirt? What's the matter with jeans?" "Nothing I suppose, but yours have to go to the laundry first." "There's another pair in my suitcase." "I didn't tell you this before but the girls kept your suitcase. They promise to send it on to you if you don't come back with me." Then he continued, "By the way, do you know how to put on pantyhose?" "Is there something difficult about it?" "According to Thelma you're supposed to put your thumbs together into one toe and draw it up one leg to the knee, then draw the other leg up to the knee. I don't know if you will find it difficult." He stepped out of the tiny room leaving me in those cramped quarters to solve the dressing problem by myself. Naked after hanging my dressing gown and nightdress in the closet I looked through the pile of clothes for BVD's. Pink panties were what I found. It was difficult to persuade my swelling member to accept its place in this silken prison. The matching bra I managed with some difficulty but when I had adjusted the shoulder straps it felt more comfortable than when the false breasts hung loose. The black pantyhose went on as I had been instructed and I enjoyed the feel as I ran a hand along my leg to check that there were no wrinkles or sags. As I lifted the blouse and skirt from the pile I found another item which was to prove a lifesaver in a way, a black pantie-girdle. It looked too small and felt very confining as it was pulled into place, but with its help the bulge of my privates was completely concealed, and any beginning erection would be held to a pleasant tingle. My outfit was completed with a light blue full skirt with a close fitting waistband, and a flowered silk blouse with short sleeves. My fingers felt like thumbs as I fumbled to cope with what to me were backwards buttons and buttonholes. When I lifted the hem of my skirt while sitting to slip on my shoes, pink lace from my half slip showed at my knee. My nylon clad feet felt a little loose in my Reebock shoes, but I tightened the laces and retied them. Then I stood, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the bedroom. "Very nice!" was John's only comment. "Now you will have to go into the bathroom and put on your face." "I've no idea how to do that." "I'll come and help as soon as you have eliminated those whiskers," "What do you know about it?" "Probably more than you. I used to watch my older sister when I was small." It did appear odd to see crimson nails reflected in the mirror as the razor stroked my face, but my scanty beard was quickly removed, and the process of making up my face begun. John's help was certainly needed to tell me which cosmetics to apply and in which order. Sometimes he made me wipe one off and start over. It took over fifteen minutes and produced a pile of soiled tissue before he pronounced himself satisfied, and we had only sampled a few of the items in the cabinet, no pancake make-up and no mascara for instance. I thought the finale had been reached when I retrieved the lipstick from my purse and had achieved a smooth outline around my mouth. He insisted that I also must rub skin cream into my hands to keep them fresh and soft. At John's request I followed him outside the vehicle to learn how to disconnect the electricity, water, and sewage, and to turn off the gas. I was not allowed to get too close to the actual work though, for fear of soiling my clean clothes or dirtying my dainty hands. A fresh breeze that rippled my skirt about my knees and ruffled my hair kept me very aware of my manner of dress. When he had stowed all the gear in the proper compartments and wiped his hands on a rag which he kept for the purpose, he opened the cab door and offered me his hand for assistance in climbing in. After the door had closed behind me I had to lift myself from the seat in order to arrange my skirts smoothly under my bottom. Before starting the engine to drive away John handed me an envelope with a request to match the bills in it to his latest credit card statement which was also enclosed. It took me a few minutes to do this and when I had finished only three bills remained loose in the envelope. One was for the purchase of a lady's dressing gown and nightdress, the second for a pair of lady's slippers, and the third was the campground registration in the name of Mr. and Mrs. John Johnson. All were dated as of the previous day. We had only driven about a half hour when he again left the highway and found a parking space at the edge of a large mall lot. To my enquiry about why we were stopping so soon, he replied that we had an important purchase to make. He wanted me to have a more ladylike pair of shoes. He also handed me a credit card which I saw was made out in the name of Joan Johnson. "That's a supplementary card on my account," he told me. "You can use it to cover purchases when you need to." Together we walked in the fresh air across the almost empty lot. I remembered what I had been told the previous day about keeping my chin up and my shoulders back. John noticed my overly erect posture and suggested that I should be careful no to overdo it. I complained in turn that I was only trying to do as I had been told. He led us into the mall and up to the window of a shoe store. After some discussion of the styles available we went inside for a fitting. I left the talking up to him, but was soon seated with one shoe off to have my foot size measured. Within a short time the salesman was back with several boxes of shoes in the style specified by John. Three pairs in turn were fitted to my feet and I was required to walk back and forth on the rug to check the fit. All were pumps with medium height but narrow heels. I was nervous about trying them but did not stumble. At my indication that each of the three pairs felt comfortable enough it was left to John to make the choice. "In that case we'll take the baby blue ones which match your skirt. You can wear them out of the store and your runners can be packed in the box." When my older shoes had been parcelled he picked up the package to carry, while I presented my new credit card and signed the name Joan Johnson for the first time. It was another strange experience to hear the click of my heels and to feel the alteration in my posture as we walked back across the parking area. At noon when we pulled up in a rest area I had the task of making the sandwiches as well as the tea. I managed all right from the ingredients purchased the day before. John rewarded my efforts with the comment that I must be a quick learner. While walking over to the toilets afterwards I smiled to myself at the thought that one thing I had certainly learned was which washroom to choose. Yesterday's option of standing before the toilet to relieve my bladder was no longer available to me and I found it quite a chore to first lower my underclothes and later to pull them back into place. In mid-afternoon our driving was broken by a stop where I was asked to go into another grocery store to purchase a fresh quart of milk. With the heat of the day at its highest I found pantyhose uncomfortably hot as I walked across the asphalt. "Would it be all right for me to go bare legged?" I asked John on my return to the motor home. "It's all right as long as you're prepared to shave your legs. That would also permit you to wear light coloured stockings if there was no hair to show through them. You'll need some peds, though, to wear in your shoes." "What are peds?" "They're like sockettes, only shorter. They don't show over the tops of your shoes. I'll walk over to the drugstore with you to help you find some." At the campground where we stopped that day he insisted that I be the one to register us and pay the fee. This was the first time in my new guise that I had actually had to initiate a conversation with a stranger and the prospect terrified me. I spoke almost in a whisper, but did manage the transaction satisfactorily. The woman did not glance up as she wrote Mr. and Mrs. John Johnson on the card at my prompting. The fee was paid with my new credit card. Supper did not take me quite as long to prepare as before. Thelma's directions were quite clear, and I was becoming more efficient as a cook. I accepted John's offer of help drying the dishes and then interfered with his efforts to choose a television program by taking the vacuum cleaner to the entire inside of the van. He compensated by working on the crossword puzzle. With all the work I could think of now done, I decided to seek relief from my tight girdle and new shoes. In my tiny bedroom I experienced that feeling of release that comes only from the removal of a figure controlling garment, and decided to follow up with a complete change of clothes. I returned to the living room wearing nightgown, housecoat, and slippers, with the intention of watching television. It felt excruciatingly delightful to sense the silk of my gown brushing my thighs as I moved. The panties, which I had not taken off, were hard put to control the excitement rising in my loins. I sat down quickly and concentrated hard to bring myself back under control. In the bathroom that evening another feminine routine was added to my repertoire. Once my make-up had been creamed off and my hands and neck thoroughly rubbed with skin lotion, I set to work with the razor to shave my legs. After I had showered, again with no sign of loosening of my false breasts, my delight in the touch of my silk gown was enhanced as it slid over my smooth legs. As I lay in my bed revelling in that arousal induced by the touch of silk, John called through the door to ask if my day was better or worse than the worst day of my life. I answered with less than the whole truth. "It was some better, not a lot. I can't wait for this ordeal to come to an end." 6 - DISAPPOINTMENT I wakened early next morning and lay in the bed contemplating my situation while waiting for a signal that it was time to rise. It was exciting to feel the caress of silk on my body whenever I shifted position, but annoying to have no watch and no idea of the actual time. I realized that I had been depending on John and the vehicle's dashboard clock up till now. At last however I had to slip into the bathroom, which I did without bothering to don my housecoat. It was as I was trying to return silently to my room that John spoke from his couch. I jumped at his words, feeling naked and exposed, with the curve of my bosom emphasized by my thin silk gown. "I see you're awake at last. I've been waiting for you to call me to breakfast." From behind the bedroom door I responded, "Why didn't you wake me up then?" My question was answered somewhat plaintively with another question. "Didn't you read the list of rules you agreed to? It says clearly that you are responsible for waking your husband in the morning on time for the day's activities. We did talk yesterday about being ready to start driving this morning about eight o'clock." I bit my lip to hold back a complaint about him not making things clear. He sounded annoyed, and it might not be wise to antagonize the judge who would control whether or not I won the bet. "What time is it now? I don't have a watch." "It's nearly seven-thirty. We'll never make it, by the time we eat." I scrambled into my housecoat, having the usual struggle with the backwards buttons and rushed to the kitchen. I was well into lighting the stove and starting the kettle to boil when John called from his couch again. "Don't you think you should protect your gown with an apron?" I said nothing in response, but did take the apron from the cupboard and tie it in place. It was not until I had started to fry the bacon and was ready to drop the eggs in the pan, that he rose from his bed and, without putting his robe over his cotton pyjamas, started towards the bathroom. As he angled to get through the narrow confines of the kitchen he put his hands on my shoulders, and I could feel his body sliding against the smooth satin of my gown as he passed. Breakfast was ready a few moments before he emerged from his shower, and I used the momentary respite to run a comb through my hair in front of the bedroom mirror. He came to the breakfast table wearing his wool robe over his pajamas. I thought as we sat at the table that we certainly did have the appearance of a typical married couple. By a quarter to nine we were pulling out onto the highway. I was wearing the same blue skirt and shoes but fresh underclothes and a sleeveless yellow silk top with a boat neck. I liked the appearance and feel of my legs through the sheer nylon of my pantyhose. Making up my face had gone faster than before, but had still required supervision from John. I spent the first half hour of that day's drive just looking at the paper Thelma had prepared, listing the alleged duties of a wife. I had skimmed the list before, but now I read each of the typewritten pages with extra care. Was I really responsible for adjusting myself to the mood of 'the husband'? for seeing that his pants were pressed? that his socks were mended and that he had clean ones to wear each day? for keeping track of the household bills and reminding him when they were due for payment? The list went on and on for five pages. Would I be held accountable for every detail? If so I might as well give up now. There was certain to be something for which I could be criticized. I voiced my concerns to John and was only partially reassured by his answer. "First of all, you know that Thelma and Doris are both pulling for you. They want you to succeed. I'm on your side too, but of course I have to be fair as a judge. I'm more inclined to make up my mind by the overall picture than by any one particular success or failure. I suppose that means that to me your attitude counts most of all." "What do you think of my attitude so far?" "Well, naturally enough you have been very nervous at first, but you seem to be getting over that. You need more practice in speaking to people though." "I'm afraid my voice will give me away." "It won't as long as you control it properly. I'm going to let you do all the talking when we go to buy you a watch today." Indeed he extended his plan for me to do more talking to almost all our activities. He would habitually leave for the washroom at a service station so that I would be left to sign the charge slip, or I might be asked to buy us a couple of cans of pop while he waited in the vehicle. After the purchase of my lady's wrist watch, I had enough confidence to seek a small travel alarm as well without having it suggested for me by John. Later in the morning he sent me alone into a lingerie store with orders to purchase myself a second nightgown. I looked over the entire stock before choosing a low-necked blue crepe with narrow shoulder straps and lots of lace in the bodice. When I asked if he would like to see my purchase he said no, that he would rather I model it for him after supper. Our usual sandwich lunch went off smoothly. I was quite proud of my efficiency and felt somewhat let down when John seemed to just take it for granted. In mid-afternoon he announced that we would be stopping early at a large RV park. "It's time you learned to do the wash," he told me. "That should be easy enough." "We'll soon see what you know about it." The outcome of this discussion was that I spent the first half hour after we were set up, learning to read the symbols on care labels and sorting the laundry under supervision. At the laundromat I received a further lecture on the difference between regular and delicate cycles and the necessity of putting the dark and light clothing in separate loads. Mesh bags to hold my dainty lingerie separate from the main load were also a novelty to me. Certain items, such as my flowered blouse were marked hand wash only, and I was advised that others containing elastic, my girdle for example, should not be placed in the dryer. I had never imagined that doing a laundry could be so complicated. John's comment was that every young teenager should be taught these things by her mother. I did not question his use of the pronoun her. It was almost six when we returned to the motor home with the dried and folded laundry. Fortunately for me John was too tired and hungry to wait for a novice cook to prepare the meal. "Put on a fresh face and I'll walk you across the street to that small restaurant for supper," he proposed. I hurriedly freshened my powder and renewed my lipstick. On the way to and from the small cafe he was careful to walk on the outside of the sidewalk and to take my arm when we crossed the street. He held the door also for me to enter the restaurant first. I think perhaps that it was while we were sitting waiting for our order to come that I first looked critically at John. In spite of living together at the camp, our duties and interests had been too dissimilar for us to have much in common. We had played cards together, but there were others present, and I had paid more attention to the women. For the past three days we had been almost intimately associated, but I had been so concerned with my own appearance and feelings that I had been unable to focus on anything outside of myself. Now I looked at him with an evaluative eye, much as a woman might examine a potential suitor. He was not particularly tall, perhaps an inch more than myself, and somewhat heavier, but lean and stocky rather than fat. His blue eyes looked out of a deeply tanned face that appeared to have even less beard than mine. "Does he have some Indian blood?" I wondered. His straw coloured hair was clipped close to his head. Neatly but casually dressed in dark trousers and a pastel blue shirt, he looked indeed like anyone's mental picture of a young engineer. I thought to myself, "He'll make a good husband for some young woman," and suddenly it hit me. "Holy cow! For the rest of this month I'd better think of him as 'my' husband. That way I'll be able to play my part better, and I'm more likely to win this bet." With this thought in mind it was easier to make conversation, and I began to contribute an original thought from time to time in place of my former practice of speaking only when spoken to, or when asking a direct question about what was expected of me. At the end of the meal I remembered also to smile, and say thanks for being treated to a meal away from my own kitchen. I stood behind him while he paid the check and walked proudly out the door, which he held for me. Mentally I was saying to the other women present, "Don't you wish you were married to such a handsome young engineer?" Once in the motor home I went directly to my bedroom to change out of my day clothes. As usual it was a particular kind of pleasure to be released from the pressure of a girdle. I slipped into my new blue nightdress with the lacy bodice which just barely covered my false breasts, slid my feet into my slippers, and donned my satin housecoat. Seated on the couch and reading his newspaper, John did not raise his eyes as I reentered the living area. I stood for a moment to get up my nerve and then spoke. "You asked me to model my new nightgown for you. Well, here goes." As he looked up I opened the front of my dressing gown to reveal my slender body clad in the elegant nightdress. Probably it was the decision taken at the supper table which allowed me, in spite of my embarrassment, to hold the housecoat open long enough for him to have a good look. "Joanie, that's very pretty," he declared. "It makes me wish you really were my wife." When he turned back to his paper I buttoned my robe and took down the ironing board. For most of the balance of the evening I was occupied with pressing his cotton shirts. When I hung them in his closet I examined each garment carefully and set aside one with a loose button for later attention. Similarly, as I put his underwear and socks away, I found several socks with holes to be darned. I made up John's bed and he was actually in it before I finished folding, pressing, and putting away all of the laundry. When I finally finished my shower and crawled into bed it was with the old rhyme in mind; "Man must work from sun to sun, But women's work is never done." I had just turned out the light when John asked his nightly question about how my day had gone. "A little better I think," was my answer. "I seem to be getting the hang of things. And the best thing of all is that there are only twenty-seven days left." "I'm sorry to disappoint you," he responded, "but these first three days have been only practice. If we count them you lose the bet. You have to admit that I've had to teach you just about everything. It's not me who is supposed to be the wife it's you. We'll use tomorrow as well for practice. Then, if all goes well, you can start your official thirty days on the next morning." Tears of frustration coursed down my cheeks, yet still I tried to make my "Good Night," sound cheerful. I cried myself to sleep. 7 - SETTLING IN Yes, I was quite depressed when John announced that those first few days would be treated as introductory only, and would not count toward meeting the terms of the bet. On that fourth day it is true that I managed to have us up on time, serve breakfast and lunch quickly and efficiently, and indeed, cooked and served the supper without undue delay. Even the application of my make-up I managed without having to call for help and advice. Throughout the day however, I harboured dark thoughts about escape from my bondage. I even thought of running away still dressed in women's clothing. After all I was in possession of a credit card, and had a few dollars in my purse. The weather matched my depressed mood. All day the sky was covered with dark clouds, and we drove through several rainstorms. Once we had to pull over to the side of the road until it passed. If the day had a bright spot for me, it came when John accompanied me into the store to buy a raincoat. It was easy for me to defer to his taste when his preference was a yellow satin gabardine, trench coat style, with an attached hood. It looked elegant on the hanger, and I was delighted with my appearance in the mirror when I tried it on. The price was extravagant, "But after all," I reasoned, "It's not my money." With this purchase my spirits started to revive. I looked very chic in my new coat and rain boots when I pushed the grocery cart around the store to collect the items which I had listed while we drove. On my own initiative, I purchased a pair of matching plastic ponchos, blue for him and rose for me, for use if we had to get out of the truck in the rain for a flat tire or similar emergency. He acknowledged my decision with the words, "That's good thinking." At bedtime that night he did not ask how I evaluated the success of my day. Instead he simply said, "I think you're ready now. Your real test will begin in the morning." Probation had ended. From now on I would have to make my own decisions in the light of how I perceived that the duties of a wife should be performed. My future would depend on how John perceived that performance. I will not try to describe in detail each of the nex