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Sadie Hawkins by Annie James To most younger persons today the name Sadie Hawkins means little. They do not remember cartoonist Al Capp's famous comic strip Lil' Abner with its characters drawn from the mythical backwoods hamlet of Dogpatch. Among the innocent inhabitants of Dogpatch, Capp drew one character as the ugliest girl in town. Sadie was so ugly that even in Dogpatch she had no chance of landing a husband. To cope with this situation, her father, the mayor, decreed that on November 8 each year, all bachelors in the town be lined up at a starting line at nine in the morning, ready to run and hide as soon as he fired the starter's pistol. This done, he lined up all the spinsters and again fired his pistol as a signal that they were now free to chase the bachelors. The rules were simple. Any girl who managed to drag a reluctant bachelor back to the finish line before sundown was entitled to appear with her catch before Marryin' Sam. Needless to say, Sadie always came close, but never succeeded in landing Lil' Abner and stealing him away from his undeclared girl friend, Daisy Mae. Junior High School students of today often unwittingly follow a custom which grew out of the popularity of Al Capp's comic strip. Their students' council sometimes organizes an event called a Sadie Hawkins Day Dance, at which the usual boy-girl dating routine is reversed. It is the girl who selects a boy to escort her to the ball. Many a romance, which might otherwise never have blossomed, has had its beginning with the girl asking her preferred partner to a Sadie Hawkins party. The heroine, if that is the right word, of this present tale is a girl named Sandra Hoskin, Sandy on her payroll record, and Sandy to everyone who knows her. Ugly is not a word which could be applied to Sandy. Tall and statuesque, and when she chooses to dress the part, she makes a very striking Aphrodite. Sandy differs from the norm mainly in two characteristics, the first being her height of over six feet, the second her choice of a career. She is a heavy equipment operator on construction projects. I first became aware of Sandy when I was employed as a payroll supervisor at a relatively remote construction camp. When she appeared before me, dressed in her working clothes and construction helmet, to inquire about a glitch in the payment of her salary, I at first thought the designation 'female' on her record card was a clerical error. She gave me a rather odd glance when I called her Mr. Hoskin, but said nothing to correct my mistaken impression. Only later when I made inquiries among the female office staff did I learn that the error was mine. Sandy was the roommate of one of the clerks in our department, a girl named Linda Lewis. Linda laughed when she learned of my confusion. "If only you were right," she sighed. "I'd like to find a man as tall and good looking as she is, but, alas, she's not a man, and both of us are definitely heterosexual. You really ought to see her when she gets dressed up to go to town. Men just fall all over her." "Well, I don't imagine I would fall for her," I laughed, "She's at least four inches taller than me. She must be gigantic in high heels." "That's too bad," responded Linda, probably to tease me, "I know she thinks you're cute." The Invitation I am not sure if Linda was a member of the camp social committee, but according to rumour, in spite of the overwhelmingly male population of the camp, women from the office and the dining room dominated its membership. It was probably self-defence for them to declare that one of the weekly dances would have a Sadie Hawkins theme. It would give each girl, if she desired, an opportunity to break free from being perceived as belonging to a particular man. It was also an opportunity for her to emphasize her choice if she were serious about an already developing relationship. Having found every desirable woman, and even the less attractive ones already spoken for, whenever I asked, I had never attended a dance at the camp and had more or less resigned myself to being excluded from the social activities, not an unusual experience for a boy raised in an orphanage. I first learned about this event when Linda turned up in my office with a tape measure and proceeded to measure my head and neck. "What's this all about?" I asked suspiciously. "It's for your bonnet," she answered, leaving me totally mystified. "What bonnet? And why would I need a bonnet?" "For the Sadie Hawkins day party. Didn't you read the notice on the bulletin board?" I vaguely recalled seeing such a notice, but had not read it through. Linda expressed surprise at this, and left for a moment to find a copy for me to read. The essential rules were simple. Each girl was to mark her intended date three days in advance by tying a gingham bonnet, made by herself, on his head. Her chosen had to wear this at each meal in the dining hall in the three days leading up to the party. Somewhat flattered, I looked up from reading the announcement to ask, "This means you're going to ask me to the dance, then?" "Wait and see," she answered mysteriously. "Yours is not the only head I intend to measure today. The girls in the office have delegated me official measurer." I was not able to worm out of her which girl was interested in having me for her date, but she did ask from me a promise that regardless of who she was I would accept graciously. I was somewhat offended. "Surely you know me well enough to know that I would not embarrass someone by refusing her invitation." "I just want to be sure you are not like some girls I know, who would put an invitation on hold while they waited for a better offer." That conversation took place on Monday morning. It was to be Thursday when the bonnets would be presented and had to be worn. Sure enough, at breakfast that day, three red-faced construction workers appeared with colourful bonnets over their heads, each neatly tied with a large bow under the chin. At noon the number of bonnets at the tables had risen to fifteen and the chaff which the wearers had to endure was softened somewhat by their increased numbers. Several girls sneaked up behind their chosen man and tied the bonnet on his head right at the dinner table. I still wondered if and when it would be my turn. I learned my fate just at closing time at the office. A secretary ushered Sandy Hoskin in to see me at five minutes to the hour. She took the chair indicated and when the exiting secretary closed the door behind herself, Sandy stated why she had come. I was flabbergasted at her opening words. "I'm here to present you with your sunbonnet," she began. My astonishment must have shown on my face as I stumbled for a reply. At last I got out the words, "I'm flattered," as I remembered Linda's earnestness in getting me to promise not to turn down an invitation. "I would have liked to come up behind you in the dining room and tie it on you, but I was afraid you would be embarrassed, especially because so many people make the same mistake you did. They think I'm a man when they see me in my working clothes." "I've never seen you dressed as a woman," I confessed. "Believe me you won't have any doubt when you see me dressed for the party." She stood again and walked around behind me. I could look down to see streamers of green and white checked gingham as she slipped the bonnet over my head and tied a large bow under my chin. "Linda's measurement was well done. It looks good on you," she commented when she had returned to the other side of my desk. "Did Linda make it?" I asked. 'No. I made it. It would be against the rules for someone else to do it." "Oh, I didn't know," I answered, realizing that my question had offended her, and wondering what to say next in this strange and stilted encounter with my unexpected admirer. Sandy relieved me of the necessity of continuing the conversation by stating unequivocally that she would leave now so that I would not be embarrassed by walking with her to the dining hall while wearing my new bonnet. I was honest enough not to contradict her perception of my potential discomfiture. Her last words to me at the time were, "I'll be around to pick you up at your apartment at 7:30 sharp on Saturday evening." At supper, when I was asked who had presented me with the bonnet, my discreet and uninformative answer was simply, "Wait and see. You wouldn't believe me if I told you." No one pressed for a more specific response. The Party. During the remaining time leading up to the party, we had no further direct contact. Lingering doubts assailed me about this supposed female admirer of mine. I still was not totally convinced that she was really a woman. Was it all an elaborate hoax designed to make me look like a fool? I watched her surreptitiously at each meal in the cafeteria, but I did not sit at her table, nor she at mine. In fact we did not even acknowledge each other's presence. I concluded that even if she did turn out to look good in a dress, I would look like a midget beside her. Any lingering doubts about her womanhood were dispelled instantly when I answered her knock on my door at the promised hour. With her coat unbuttoned so that it revealed her green check gingham dress of the same material as my bonnet, her face made up expertly, and with a bouffant hairdo, she could easily have passed as a model. Given that even with her rather modest heels she was a whole head taller than myself, my most vivid impression was of her cleavage, so enticingly revealed by the low neck of her dress. It took a special effort on my part to look up into her face. "You're very prompt," I greeted her. "And you look lovely," I added, realizing as I spoke that the compliment about her appearance should have been said first. "I hope you like my dress. I chose it because its the same material as our bonnet, and of course because we're going to square dance." "I notice you said our bonnet. Does that mean you will wear it and I can go back to my own hat?" "No," she laughed. "You have to wear it for the evening, but if you're a good boy I might let you tie it on me for the trip back home." "Do you think I can reach that high?" This seemed to break the ice and we began to relax a little with each other. She took time though to make clear some of her thoughts about her extraordinary height. "You should have it easier tonight because my heels are only moderate for square dancing. At any other kind of a dance I'd be even taller. I make no apology to anyone for my height. I hope you can cope with that." "We'll get along all right if you don't complain about my nose tickling your chest." "Just be careful that's all it does," was her laughing reply. She insisted on being the one to tie my bonnet in place, and while she bent her knees and stood close to me to do so, I enjoyed the aroma of her cologne. Again she said, "Thank you," when I told her she smelled nice. Sandy made a point of helping me on with my coat, and of holding the door for me to pass through first as we left the apartment. She even forestalled my attempt to walk on the outside as we moved along the wooden sidewalk. "Remember," she reminded me. "You are my date and it is my place to do all the honours." I acquiesced when she held out her elbow for me to place my hand on her arm. Her sense of chivalry was such that all the usual courtesies extended to a woman were extended to me that evening. I quickly got into the spirit of things by accepting her assistance up the steps into the recreation hall, letting her hold the door for me, allowing her to take my coat to the checkroom, and waiting at the table while she went to the bar for our drinks. She seemed to take a lot of pleasure in her role and I certainly enjoyed being the object of her attentions. When the dancing started, we joined a square which included Linda and her date, who was just as tall as Sandy would be without her heels. It was really exhilarating when it came time to swing our partners. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that my partner swung me. No matter, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Our one disagreement of the evening came when the square dancing was interrupted for a few round dances. I protested when Sandy placed her right arm around my waist and took my right hand in her left, thus forcing me into the usual woman's position. She did not yield to my complaint that no other couple was dancing this way. She merely asserted that since it was a Sadie Hawkins dance she had the right to set the rules. We did it her way. Half way through our first dance, I seemed to catch the rhythm from her, and from there on it was smooth sailing. Of course no one even commented on our unorthodox posture. When I thanked her for a wonderful dancing experience, there was no hint of an 'I told you so' in her response. "I'm pleased that you enjoyed it," was all she said. When lunch was announced it was Sandy who waited on me by bringing coffee, sandwiches, and cookies. Afterward she led me back to the dance floor. This time I offered no resistance as she placed her arm around my waist. We danced two slow numbers with her holding me close to her before the squares were resumed. The party ended with a singing of 'Old Lang Syne', during which many of the men removed the bonnets from their own heads and placed them on their partners'. When Sandy asked if I was going to follow suit, I replied as I started to undo the bow, "I hate to do so as it signals that the party is over, and it has been the best party I ever attended." "I've had no end of fun, too. Let's leave the bonnet where it is." With that she reached up and retied the bow. To my surprise, back at my apartment, she accepted my invitation to come in for a quick cup of coffee. If I had expected that might lead sexual intimacy, there is no doubt that that idea was mistaken. Sandy would have considered it improper to seduce her date, and I, of course, would have lacked the physical strength and will to compel her as an unwilling partner. All too soon the coffee was drunk and I was saying good bye to her at the door. The bonnet was still on my head. It was Sandy who took me into her arms for that final kiss, and it was her tongue that probed deepest in giving promise of future pleasures to come. Her final words to me as we parted were, "I hope you're going to accept the next time I call you for a date." Later as my head lay on the pillow, just before I drifted off to sleep, my mind was filled with pleasant thoughts of Sandy. In one short evening she had affected me more than any girl I had ever met. Was it just infatuation, or was I falling in love after just one date? Second Date Our paths did not cross on Sunday and it was not until noon Monday that I again saw Sandy. Meanwhile, my morning at the office had been interrupted by Linda who had wanted to discuss how I had enjoyed myself at the party. She was quite pleased to hear that I had had a good time, and intended to seek more of Sandy's company. She did offer one caution though. In her words, "Be careful. Sandy is a very determined girl, and if she makes up her mind about something she usually gets her own way." Later I would remember that comment, though I gave it little thought at the time. I had just sat down with my lunch tray when Sandy appeared at my elbow to inquire if the next seat was still vacant. Of course I invited her to sit and join me for the meal. We talked about innocuous things like the weather until we found ourselves alone at the table. "I hope you enjoyed our evening together as much as I did," she began. As I turned for the first time to look directly at her, the contrast with her appearance on Saturday night was striking. Dressed in her coveralls and with her hair slicked back, all of her feminine attributes seemed to have disappeared. She wore not a touch of makeup and the polish was gone from her fingernails. Even her cleavage was totally hidden under her loose coveralls. My answer was momentarily delayed while my mind digested what I was seeing. Finally I answered, "Oh, I had a fabulous time. It was the most fun I've had in a long time." "Then you'll accept my invitation to come to town next Saturday. If I pick you up right after lunch, we can have supper in town and attend a movie or a play afterward." "It should be my turn to treat you. Why don't we go in my car and I'll treat you to dinner and a play?" "No dice! I asked you first, and you did promise to accept another date with me." "Well, all right, but you must remember that it will be my turn next." "We can talk about that when the time comes." So our second date was arranged. For the balance of that week I had no further contact with Sandy other than an occasional wave or a smile from across the dining hall. Saturday noon she did not appear in the cafeteria, but was right on time at my door at one o'clock. Again she came dressed in a manner to fully emphasize her feminine allure. This time her dress was of flowered grey silk, with a high neckline, three quarter sleeves, and a narrow skirt ending well above her knees. She wore the same hairdo and her face was made up in the same way, but she was even taller in a pair of pumps with high spike heels. Her slender ankles and shapely calves were emphasized by the intricate clocks woven into her extra sheer nylons. "Wow!" I blurted out, "You look good enough to eat," "Hearing you say that makes all the trouble I went to, seem worthwhile," she responded, then leaned over to reward me with the soft touch of her lips on my forehead. "You really are sweet." She stepped back again before I could parlay her greeting into something more than a whiff of her perfume. "Bring your coat," she added. "We'll just lay it on the back seat with mine, so we'll have them if it gets cool after supper." Once more she managed to manoeuvre me into preceding her out the apartment door, and she took my arm to guide me to her car. She opened the car door for me and closed it again before walking around to the driver's seat. Here I was, out on a date with a beautiful girl and she was treating me as if I were the young woman and she were my male escort. "You know you really must stop treating me as if I were the girl and you were the boy," I offered when we had settled into a steady pace along the highway. "I'm sorry," was her prompt response. "I don't mean to embarrass you. It's just the way I am. All day, every day at work, I have to act as if I really were a man. It's hard to break the habit. You can make me very happy if you indulge me just a little. And it's hard not to feel protective about you. After all you do seem to be only about half my size. Maybe that's the problem. I've never dated anyone so petite before." This was said in such a contrite manner that I could think of no adequate response. Knowing full well that my five foot seven was only slightly below average height for North American males, I even let pass her description of me as 'petite'. I chose instead to change the subject and ask how she had come to be a heavy equipment operator. "It's just what I always wanted to do. I was always a tomboy and my parents encouraged me by saying that if a person is determined enough, he or she can do or become whatever they want. I found out they were right. Lots of people tried to prevent me, but I managed to get hired and learn my trade." "I guess it didn't hurt that you're so tall." "You're probably right about that, but sometimes it can also be a real handicap?" "In what way?" I asked, totally unprepared for the answer she gave. "Well, for instance, it's going to be very difficult to persuade you that you want to marry me." Startled by this frank admission of her intentions, I was again at a loss for words. "Surely you don't mean ---," I began. "Oops! Maybe I shouldn't have said that. I've probably scared you away before we've really gotten to know each other. Scratch that remark and consider it just a 'for instance'. It shows how being tall can limit your opportunities." "I guess I don't know much about being tall. I've never dated anyone as tall as you before." "And you still haven't!" she joked, "I dated you, remember." Our conversation continued in a light vein all the way to the big city. When we arrived, it was left to me to decide whether we would visit the Museum, the Art Gallery, or the Zoo, before supper. "I'd take you shopping," she interjected, "but I am sure you would not accept what I would pick out for you." "And what might that be," I asked innocently. "Perhaps a diamond ring," she smiled. "You're right. I wouldn't accept. Let's go to the Zoo." I managed to hop out of the car before Sandy could come round to open the door for me, but it disturbed me that her long legs gave her the advantage in getting to the wicket to purchase our entry tickets. It did not seem dignified to have an out and out foot race for the privilege. I was then put in the position of preceding her while she handed the tickets to the gatekeeper and received the stubs. Holding hands as we walked about to the various animal cages was a great pleasure. She made certain that we followed a path determined by me, but in one sense it was as if she were showing a ten year old through the park. She anticipated me in determining that it was time for an ice cream cone, and she was the one who caught the attendant's attention and bought our treats at the refreshment stand. Sandy received a lot of admiring glances, and even fended off one lothario who completely ignored me in his attempt to pick her up. In spite of my pride at being seen with such a beauty, it made me feel to some extent like background scenery for this confident, assertive, and comely young woman. In spite of all that, it was flattering to be treated so deferentially by her. I even turned to thank her for the zoo visit as she held the door for me to reenter the car. She responded by once more bending over to touch her lips to my forehead. I was not consulted about her choice of restaurant, but evidently she already was aware of the high quality of its menu. Again she manoeuvred me into preceding her as we followed the waiter to our table. She was a delightful conversationalist and I enjoyed the meal thoroughly. At its conclusion her credit card was accepted by the waiter as he presented the bill. Her presence was such that everyone seemed automatically to assume that she was in charge. Outside the restaurant it was only a short walk to the theatre, and again she pre-empted the place at the outside of the sidewalk. I entered the lobby through the door which she held open for me and did not contest the issue when she stood aside so she could follow me as the usher led us down the aisle. During the intermission, after standing in line in the washroom, I returned to the lobby to receive a glass of wine which she had purchased for me. We laughed hilariously during the presentation of 'Goodbye, Charlie'. She was amused when I suggested that sometimes she acted as if she were also reincarnated from a male identity. "It happens every day," she returned, "every time I come home from work. And in the morning it's the reverse. Don't you call me Charlie, though." Having left our coats in the car, on exiting the theatre we found the night air rather cool. During the short walk back to the parking area she first held my hand in hers, then changed her mind and put an arm over my shoulder to draw me close. "There," she murmured, "You can keep me warm on one side anyway." I slipped an arm around her waist, finding the touch of her thin silk dress cool under my fingers. We continued along the sidewalk with me snuggled tightly against her. We made a short coffee and washroom stop at a doughnut shop just before driving out of the city. As she held the car door for me to enter for the fourth time that day, Sandy bent over and whispered in my ear, "If you use the centre seat belt, we can sit closer together." As we came up to speed on the highway, she took one hand off the wheel and again put her arm over my shoulder to draw me toward her. For the balance of the ride she continued to hold me close. Given the difference in our height it resulted in my cheek being pressed against the side of her breast. She did not object when I placed a hand on her knee to steady myself. At her suggestion that I should look up toward her, I stretched as high as I could while she leaned over to plant a kiss on my lips while we sped through the night. After several long kisses the strain on my neck forced me to relax again at her side. I nestled against her and closed my eyes. I must have fallen asleep during the last half of the journey, for my next memory is of Sandy undoing my seatbelt, and persuading me to stand beside the car while she draped my coat over my shoulders. We stopped at the door just long enough for her to use my key in the lock before leading me inside. I remember nothing more, until I wakened in the late morning to find myself lying on the chesterfield, still dressed, and with my coat spread over me like a blanket. As I stared at myself in the mirror, after staggering to the bathroom to relieve my bursting bladder, smudges of Sandy's lipstick still marked my lips and cheek. "What must she think of me?" I wondered, "a date who falls asleep just when the evening seemed to be building up to something." That day as I read the weekend paper, tidied my apartment, did my weekly wash, and carried out the myriad other chores left over from earlier in the week, thoughts about Sandy kept me preoccupied. "Yes," I admitted to myself, "I really do like this girl. She's extremely attractive, she's a good conversationalist, and I'm proud to be seen with her. Is she really serious when she suggests she likes me enough to consider marrying me? If only she weren't quite so tall! She's awfully dominating though, the way she insists on opening doors for me and all. Is she mad at me for falling asleep? Why didn't she waken me?" Coincidentally we met again at the supper table. Once more all the physical evidence of Sandy's feminine attributes was concealed under nondescript clothing, her charm and beauty made inconspicuous by a scrubbed face and combed back hair. Nevertheless, as I looked at her, my mind formed a mental image how she had appeared during our date. We sat at the table chatting until the dining room closed, and then stayed together for a casual walk around the camp and the construction site. She pointed out to me some evidence of her own work and we discussed the progress of the project. For all practical purposes we were just a couple of casual friends out together for a relaxed stroll. There was no hand holding, no terms of endearment, and no reference to sex roles. The only reference to the previous day came just before we parted. She said she hoped I had enjoyed our date as much as she had. "Too bad you got so sleepy though. I was really enjoying your company." "I owe you an apology for that." Her philosophical answer closed the subject. "Maybe it's just as well. Otherwise we might have done something we would later regret." Sour Notes Our relationship continued to build over the next months. She accepted my invitation to the next Saturday night dance, where again, in my opinion at least she was the prettiest girl present. The evening did not go as well as I had hoped though. Sandy was polite and charming, but the evening never took fire for us. Perhaps our inability to dance well together, with me leading, had something to do with it She did not seem comfortable with just sitting at the table while I went to the bar for our drinks and refreshments. The difference in our physical size seemed more apparent than ever as we walked to and from the dance. At the door of her apartment, she had to lean over to accept my formal good night kiss. When she insisted, on another weekend, that it was her turn to date me. Things seemed at first to go better. But again our dancing was awkward and clumsy when I protested that I would be embarrassed to have her arm around my waist and mine over her shoulder so she could lead on the dance floor. Nothing that we did together seemed to reignite that spark which had lighted our first two dates, yet neither of us seemed resigned to abandoning our relationship. Somehow we each seemed to yearn for the other, and the weekend when we did nothing together was a lost weekend. Possibly our most successful outing together was spontaneous and unplanned. It came on a day when construction was suddenly shut down about three in the afternoon because of an accident. Sandy phoned me directly from her workplace to suggest that I collect some sandwiches so that we two could go for a picnic supper. I checked out of the office immediately and proceeded at once to the cafeteria. By the time I had collected the necessary food, Sandy, still dressed in her work clothes, had driven up to the door. We stopped by my apartment for me to pick up an extra sweater to fight the autumn chill, then drove off to a roadside picnic table. We took a leisurely walk along a nature trail through the coloured leaves of early fall. Standing beside a little waterfall, Sandy made a strange confession. "You realize," she said, "that out here in the forest I have you in my power. I could have my will with you and you would be unable to resist me." Interpreting her remark as a joke I responded lightly, "I hadn't planned on challenging you to a wrestling match." Her reply was sober and serious. "The truth of the matter is that I am taller, heavier, and stronger than you. I think that inhibits both of us. Society expects things to be the other way around, but it is never going to be like that, so if we are going to some day soon become lovers, we will have to learn to cope with the situation." "What are you suggesting?" "I don't really have any suggestions. That's what makes things so difficult. You certainly remember that I made my intentions very clear on our second date." "You mean about a ring?" "Yes, but it's like when we dance together. I could put my arm around your waist and force you to accept my lead. That works so much better just because of our relative size. But you would be embarrassed and resentful, so any improvement in our rhythm would be cancelled by your mood, and I wouldn't get any pleasure from forcing you to do something you didn't want to do." I had to admit that she had put her finger on the crux of our problem. On my own I would never originally have considered dating her. Without the impetus of the Sadie Hawkins dance we would never have gotten together at all. Always it was the question of our comparative size. Reality in our case conflicted with society's expectations, or at least with my perception of them. "Even today, when we are out by ourselves," she continued, 'we're not walking hand in hand, because it wouldn't 'look right' when I'm dressed in my working clothes." This last comment prompted me to slip my hands into hers and look up into her face. "You could offer me a kiss here where we're alone." Then I closed my eyes, shutting out the image of her masculine appearing face, as her lips neared mine. "There's one advantage this way," I offered as we paused for air, "You're not as tall wearing your work boots." We did walk hand in hand back to the picnic table. I did not express the discomfort I felt about receiving another kiss in full view of the momentarily empty highway, before we separated to lay out the lunch ingredients. As we prepared to leave again, Sandy repeated her ritual opening of the car door for me to enter. After taking her own place behind the wheel, but before starting the motor, she reached over to draw me close for another kiss. My worry about possibly being noticed by a passing motorist prevented me from fully enjoying her warm embrace. That night in my room I began to think seriously about quitting my job and leaving the construction site. That was the only means I could think of to free myself from an obsession with this 'Amazon' construction worker. Sandy's remarks about her size and her ability to force her will upon me had left me with a nagging worry that she might eventually do just that. I was simply not prepared to be 'dominated' by anyone, particularly someone who usually appeared in the guise of a construction worker. "Damn! Why am I so enamoured of her? She's not the only woman on the site." Transformation In spite of my new-found determination to end our relationship I did not rush to quit my job. Sandy continued to ask me out and I continued to accept, always telling myself that this would be the last time. She did not seem to notice, and did not comment on my failure to initiate contacts between us. She could not have failed to be aware however of my inhibited behaviour in many social situations. Only when we were alone together did the awkwardness entirely disappear. I was adamant in my refusal to accept an invitation to take time off to visit with her at her home town and to meet her parents. Why I accepted her invitation to attend the Hallowe'en party I do not know. Perhaps my decision was based on happy memories of that Sadie Hawkins dance to which I had worn the gingham bonnet.. Perhaps in costume our differences would count for less. This party was not the one organized at the camp, but rather one in the city where there would big prizes for the best costumes. It was Sandy's idea that we should go as Mr. and Mrs. with her as the Mr. and me as the Mrs. I tried to back out at that point, but she insisted that I should honour my promise to go. "And where will you ever find women's clothes to fit me?" I demanded. "Your clothes certainly won't." "Just leave the logistics to me," she replied. "I've got it all worked out. You just be ready on Saturday morning, and I'll get Linda to drive you to town. She will help you into your costume in the afternoon and I'll meet you there for supper." "Meet me where?" "At a friend's apartment." "I didn't know you had friends in town." "Don't be so inquisitive," Sandy cut me off with a smile, "There's lots you don't know about me." On Saturday morning Linda drove the two of us to town in her car so that I would be free later to return with Sandy. After lunch at a MacDonald's we drove to a high-rise in the newer section of town and Linda used the key she had been given to admit us to a tenth floor apartment. It appeared as if the residents had left for the weekend. The tastefully furnished rooms were very tidy, and food remained in the refrigerator. Linda wasted no time, but insisted that I start at once to prepare for the party. She informed me that Sandy had left strict orders about how I was to be dressed, and she, Linda, was charged with seeing that I complied. "Well, Miss Frankenstein's assistant, what am I to do first," I asked in mock seriousness. "Give yourself a close shave, then hop in the shower. Be sure to wash your hair thoroughly. Don't lock the bathroom door, because I'll have to bring you some clothes while you are in the shower." It was twenty minutes later when I stepped out of the tub to find that the clothes she had brought me consisted only of a pair of women's satin slippers with narrow one-inch heels and a tiny bikini brief of stretch nylon lace. "Don't I at least get a dressing gown?" I called out. "Not for the moment. Have you got your panties on yet?" I scrambled to pull the brief into place and pushed my privates down between my legs. "Now I have." The door opened to admit Linda. "Now step up on the toilet seat. I've got to attend to your legs." When I had reluctantly complied, she took out a safety razor and began to scrape the hair off my legs. "Is this necessary? Couldn't I just wear dark stockings to hide the hair?" "I'm just obeying orders. Turn around so I can reach the other side." As she finished she told me to sit down. She had already made one stroke of the razor down my chest before I realized what she intended next. "Surely that part of me will be covered. Why do you have to do that?" She gave no answer, but continued until my chest was bare. "Now lift your arm." Docilely I submitted while the hair was removed from each armpit. She sprinkled bath powder on a large powder puff and handed it to me. "Dust yourself all over with this. I'll do your back." A moment later she added, "Hold out your hand while I sprinkle powder on it. Then reach inside your panties and powder between your legs. I'll go and get your bra." She returned in a moment with an already padded bra in her hand and a garment over her arm. I dutifully held out my arms to pass through the straps and she clipped the fastening behind my back. "Now stand up to put on your robe." I had a momentary view in the mirror of the two satin and lace encased mounds on my chest before she thrust my arms into the sleeves of a heavy yellow satin dressing gown and turned me toward her to do up the large front buttons and tie the sash around my waist. "There. That will do for now. Put on your slippers and we'll go to the kitchen so I can work on your hair." As I followed her it felt strange to walk on tiny heels which clicked on the tile of the bathroom and sank into the living room rug. The swirl of satin skirts about my knees roused erotic feelings, barely held in check by my bikini brief. It was a relief that the lump in my crotch began to soften again after I had been seated on a kitchen chair near the sink. After tying a plastic cape around my neck, Linda handed me a magazine to read and began to work on my hair. When she had thoroughly brushed it out, she took scissors and a comb, and over my continued objections trimmed it into a new shape. Then she began applying smelly lotion on one section of hair before inserting that part into an electric curling iron which she left in place for about a minute each time. She worked methodically until all of my hair had been treated. Next she had me stand and bend over the sink while she rinsed out the foul-smelling lotion. After damp drying my head with a large towel, she seated me again and began to divide my hair to be rolled in curlers. By the time she had put in the last curler, I had finished the magazine. "How come it took so long to do my hair? I've watched my mother put curlers in, and have them out again and her hair combed, in less time than you've already taken just to put the curlers in?" "Your mother probably had already had her permanent. It won't take nearly so long next time." "Permanent? Do you mean you've given me a permanent?" "Why yes. Didn't you know? Lots of men have them nowadays. I used a home permanent on you." I slumped in the chair. "What am I going to do tomorrow." "Why just comb it. You'll look good with a bit of curl in your hair." "It won't look like me." "If you don't like it, you can always get a brush cut. Let's go into the bedroom now so I can do your nails." Again as I walked, the swish of satin about my knees caused a lump in my groin, and again it subsided when she seated me on a chair. With my back to the dressing table, she arranged a portable hair dryer on the edge of the dresser and positioned its hood over my head. When she turned the switch I could feel warm air flowing down past my nose and ears. I rubbed lotion into my hands while I watched Linda sit on a low bench in front of me, remove one slipper, and place my foot on her lap. First she massaged the foot with her hands. Then from the kit beside her she took the necessary utensils to push back the cuticles and trim my nails. Next she began carefully to coat the nails with red lacquer. When she had finished both feet, she replaced the low bench with a regular chair and turned her attention to my hands. "Sandy is right," she declared after a brief inspection. "Your nails are too short. We'll have to attach artificial nails." I stared in fascination as each finger in turn had a new longer nail glued in place and coloured to match my toes. How my eyes were drawn to these long slender hands with their ruby tips! I continued to stare at them as I held them out to dry. "Definitely the hands of a woman," I thought to myself. Linda interrupted. "It's about time to begin dressing. Is your hair dry yet?" As I reached a hand up to feel the curlers at the back of my neck, I had to adjust my touch to compensate for my extended fingers. I had to take them into account also as Linda explained how to put on pantyhose. "Work your thumbs right down to the toe of one leg. - - Now slip it on your foot. - - Work it up as far as your knee. - - Now slip your thumbs into the other foot and work that leg up to your knee. - - Stand and work both legs up to your hips and stretch the panty right to your waist." As I lifted my skirt to comply with these directions, the lump in my groin could not escape Linda's notice. She said nothing about what she saw, but handed me a pantie-girdle with instructions to pull it on and arrange my privates comfortably inside. That done, the offending bulge disappeared, although I continued to feel my penis straining against its imprisonment. Linda had me unbutton the robe and hang it behind the door. A satiny full slip, with lace trim at its bodice and hem, slid smoothly down over my exposed body. She carefully adjusted the shoulder straps so it draped neatly over my artificial bosom. The semi-transparent white silk blouse with its flowing sleeves and frilly jabot required her help with its rear buttons. The navy blue skirt was pencil thin with a rear zipper and a side pleat at each knee. When I had donned the dark pumps with their modest two-inch heels, it was time to practise walking and sitting in my unfamiliar garb. Linda kept me at it for a full half hour. Hardest of all was learning to rise gracefully from a chair. Satisfied at last, she sat me down once more to make up my face. She explained each step, as she applied all-over foundation, then blusher to my cheeks, eyeshadow, and even mascara. When she used the tweezers to thin my eyebrows I did not bother to complain, having lost each round so far. As a last step she had me apply the lipstick and face powder myself. Now she turned me away from the mirror while she removed my curlers and combed out my hair. With necklace, earrings, and bracelet as the final touch I was permitted to stand and examine myself in the full length mirror. What I saw was utterly unbelievable! The creature staring back at me looked truly sensational. Not the slightest hint of masculinity remained. This person personified feminine beauty and charm. A pleased smile graced her lips, and her eyes glowed as she uttered words of thanks to Linda for effecting this incredible transformation. Romantic evening "You look even better than I expected," confirmed Linda. "Sandy will be very pleased." I continued posing in front of the mirror, turning from side to side to catch myself in profile. "I'll leave now. Your date will be arriving any minute. You'll find the ingredients in the kitchen if you want to serve a cup of coffee before you leave for the party. There's an apron hanging there too." As we said goodbye at the apartment door, she took my hands in hers and leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on my cheek. Her parting words were,"I think you'll win the grand prize tonight." For the next few minutes I moved slowly about, exploring the apartment, uncertain how to fill this waiting time. I paused several times beside the full length mirror. Nervous panic struck me when the doorbell sounded. No one had rung from the lobby. What if the caller was not Sandy? Steeling myself, I moved to the door and looked out through the peephole. The caller was obviously male, but a stranger with close- cropped hair and wearing a business suit. I checked that the chain was fastened and cracked open the door. "Who - ." He interrupted, "Hello! Sandy Hoskin here. I think I'm expected." I quickly undid the chain and swung the door open. Sandy stepped in, closed the door, and took me by both hands. Holding ourselves at arm's length we inspected each other. My eyes scanned her/him from head to foot and back again. This individual could not be suspected of possessing feminine gender. Oxford shoes, neatly pressed trousers, white shirt with a paisley tie under a neat suitcoat; all contributed to the image of a young man carefully dressed for a business appointment. - - Or a date with his girl! "Amazing!" was Sandy's single word comment before we melted into each other's arms. Our lips met naturally without the usual stretching and bending, and we held our embrace for a long time. I remember feeling my false breasts pressed between us. When we finally parted I found myself saying involuntarily, "Here, let me get a tissue to wipe your lips. Your face is a mess." A big smear of lipstick awaited my attentions. As I finished Sandy asked, "Are you ready to go out for a bite to eat.? It's a long time since I had lunch. There'll be no food at the party until the evening is half over." "Dressed like this!" I exclaimed vehemently, "No way! I'm not going out in public except straight to the party and back in your car. If you like I'll get you some coffee and cookies though." Sandy did not argue but followed me to the kitchen. I began at once to look for the coffee ingredients. "Perhaps you'll need this," she suggested, handing me an apron which had been draped over the back of a chair. "You look very domestic," she added when I had slipped the neckband over my head and tied the waist strings in a bow at my back. My heels clicked on the tile floor as I scurried about the kitchen. I did not feel that I should use up the food which I found in the cupboards, so I restricted myself to preparing the coffee and setting out a plate of cookies. I made a mental note to remember to have Sandy buy a replacement package on our way back from the party. When we finished I took our dishes to the sink to wash, quite conscious of the fact that it was my cup which contained lipstick stains. "Are you ready to go now? Sandy asked after I had returned the last dish to the cupboard It took another five minutes for me to visit the bathroom and lower my undergarments so as to relieve my bladder. That done, I stood at the bathroom mirror to refresh my lipstick and repowder my nose. Sandy was waiting at the front entrance holding my coat at the ready. "I called us a taxi," she informed me. "That way we won't have to worry about having too much to drink." With a patterned square of silk at my neck, wearing a dressy nylon spring and fall coat along with contrasting white silk gloves, and carrying a purse with spare cosmetics, I stood hesitantly at the door. "Are you ready?" asked Sandy gently. At my nod she opened the door, and I stepped nervously into the hall. I was relieved to find it empty. "You don't have to worry about who may see us," Sandy reassured me as she held my arm walking toward the elevator. "You look like a perfectly normal woman. No one will ever suspect that you are a man on the way to a Hallowe'en party." Actually that was exactly what was bothering me. I would have been perfectly at ease, well perhaps not 'perfectly', but at least relatively at ease, if I had been wearing an outlandish costume. After all, everyone expects to see costumed revellers at Hallowe'en. My costume was too good. And I would be terribly embarrassed and ashamed if anyone caught me, a man, impersonating a real woman. We were alone as we rode down the elevator. When the door opened to the lobby I kept my eyes looking straight ahead while Sandy squired me to the front door. Our taxi driver was waiting and led us to his car. I offered him a wan smile while he held the door as I carefully seated myself, then swung my legs in as Linda had earlier suggested. He closed the door, and both he and Sandy walked around to the other side. Sandy held my hand and squeezed it as we sat together in the back of the cab, but no words were spoken. To my surprise, our cabby drew up in front of a large and very posh hotel. I had no option but to accept the uniformed doorman's hand for assistance in getting out of the car, while Sandy got out the other side and settled with the driver. I could feel my heart beating rapidly as I stood beside the doorman, waiting for Sandy to finish. Again my arm was held as we entered the hotel and walked through the crowded lobby. I whispered urgently to Sandy, "What are we doing here? This is not where the party is supposed to be." "Hush," she responded, "Just trust me." Having little choice in the matter, I stayed at her side as she entered a room marked Dinner-Dance Club. I said not a word while my coat was checked and the headwaiter led us to a table marked reserved. Before I had a chance to express my displeasure, a second waiter arrived to ask if we wished cocktails. When Sandy had ordered for both of us,. I decided at this point that protest was useless. While we sat waiting Sandy attempted to distract me by remarking on various people sitting about the room. "There's no doubt about it," she concluded, "You're the prettiest woman present." I was forced to smile at this absurd flattery, and I relaxed slightly as we sipped our drinks. I spoke not a word, only nodded my agreement, as Sandy gave our waiter the order for our meal. The dinner was delicious, and as the meal proceeded I began to contribute a little to our conversation, only relapsing into total silence in the presence of our waiter. During the pause, while he cleared our table and went to fetch our dessert, Sandy led me to the dance floor where we enjoyed a waltz to the music of the small combo in attendance. We glided about the floor in perfect harmony. After dessert, we danced again, before returning to our table to order drinks. By this time I had gained enough confidence to name my own choice in a carefully modulated voice. An emcee arrived to lead a small floor show while we continued to sip drinks at our table. Afterwards I made a trip alone to the women's washroom to relieve my bladder and to restore my lipstick and powder my nose, before we again took to the dance floor. I was perhaps becoming slightly tipsy when Sandy decided it was time to go. I was reluctant to leave. In the taxi home Sandy held me in her arms and kissed me. While I was wiping the red blotch from her lips, I thought to ask, "Are you going to help me to remove the makeup and help me to dress in my own clothes for the drive home tonight?" "Don't worry. I will look after you." was her simple though rather misleading answer. At the apartment house door, I leaned close and snuggled up to Sandy while she fumbled in her pocket for the key. My arm encircled her waist, and hers held me by the shoulder, as we walked across the lobby. In the elevator we had just time for one short smooch before arriving at our floor. Ecstasy After unlocking the apartment door she turned back toward me. Before I could realize what was happening I had been picked up in her arms and carried inside. She set me down gently. "If you don't mind me asking, what was that in aid of?" I inquired. "You've been carried over the threshold of a new stage in our relationship." "I've enjoyed the last stage. Does it get better?" "You'll have to judge that for yourself. Right now I will have to help you get out of these clothes and prepare for bed." "Do you mean I'm staying here? I thought we were driving home tonight." "I don't think I'm in any condition to drive, and I'm certain you're not. Here let me have your coat to hang up." She led me into the bedroom and sat me on the bench before the dressing table. I slipped off my pumps and sat wiggling my nylon-clad toes. "Set your jewellery on the dresser." While I undid the necklace and earrings, she began undoing the back buttons of my silk blouse. She slipped it off me and handed me a bottle of cold cream. "Spread this generously all over your face." After several minutes spent tissuing away the old makeup, the waste basket was half full of used Kleenex. She spread a hairnet over my head "Now stand up and undo your skirt." When it dropped to the floor around my nyloned feet, Sandy seized the lace hem of my slip and lifted it. "Raise your arms." I stood there feeling somewhat bashful as the slip rose over my head. "Now sit down and take off your girdle and pantyhose, while I hang up your skirt and blouse." "You'll have to help me with the bra. I don't think I can reach behind my back." I suggested. "Don't worry about it for the moment." The reflection in the dressing table mirror was of a woman dressed only in bra and panties as Sandy stepped up behind me again. Once more she ordered me to raise my arms. A gossamer light garment slipped over my head and down over my body to my hips. Yellow silk and lace hid the bra and my bare midriff in the mirrored reflection. "You want me to wear this nightgown?" I asked. Without answering directly she said, "It looks better if you keep your bra and panties on," and she handed me the yellow slippers. After I slid my feet into them she ordered, "Stand and slip your robe on." As I stood the skirt of my nightgown slid the rest of the way to my ankles. My erotic response to its soft caress was barely held in check by my bikini brief. With my satin robe buttoned and the sash tied, I proceeded as instructed, to the bathroom. There I relieved my bladder, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I returned to the bedroom to find Sandy waiting, dressed in a pair of men's flannelette pyjamas. "Climb into bed," she urged me, "I'll be along to tuck you in as soon as I've brushed my teeth." "What does she mean by 'tuck me in'? Does that mean ---?" I wondered. Would I be able to entice her, if she meant only to be honourable by me? Forcing myself on her was not practical. She was bigger and stronger. My mind was in a whirl. "How does a woman make clear what she wants and expects?" When I had doffed the robe I turned to study myself in the full length mirror. My reflection was still that of a woman, in spite of my lack of makeup. "An attractive woman, too!" I thought as my hands felt along my body from hips to false breasts. How pleasant the sensation of touching myself through the sleek silk! "Would it be too bold of me to place her hand on my body if she doesn't make the first move?" When I heard the bathroom door open again, I rushed to be in bed before Sandy's return. I folded back the blanket and lay on my back on the sheet. At least she would have to reach over me for the covers if she intended only to 'tuck me in'. My fears were groundless. As she bent over to kiss me, I raised my arms to clasp her around the neck Her tongue slipped between my lips and probed hungrily. The strain on my bikini brief began to increase again. When she paused for air she whispered in my ear, "If you will move your hips back a bit I'll be able to sit on the edge of the bed." I had to release her head while I shifted position. Then she sat and began to caress me. First her hands explored every inch of my body through the thin silk of my gown. When I reached up to touch her breasts she took my hand and laid it at my side. "Let me be the one to seduce you," she said softly but firmly. Her lips touched my bare neck and then nibbled on one ear. A hand slid into the neck of my gown and found its way under the bra to further excite my erect nipples. She turned and kissed first one foot and then the other. Ever so slowly she began to raise my skirt so that her lips and tongue could work their way up my legs. When the skirt reached my knees she raised one of my legs in the air and kissed the back of the knee. Then she worked her way up the back of my thigh to the lace edge of my bikini. My penis was straining at the material which held it prisoner. While still kissing my leg she undid the string of her pyjama bottoms and shifted so that they fell to the floor. At long last she began to remove my panties, refusing any assistance from my hands. My organ popped into its fully erect position, which she verified lightly with her lips and tongue. Sandra lay down beside me then and raised herself on one elbow. Once more she pressed her lips to mine and explored my mouth with her tongue. Her other hand gently rubbed my stomach and strayed down to softly stroke my scrotum. With my hands at my sides and prohibited from moving, my excitement had reached a fever pitch. Any moment now I would explode. "Are you ready, Sadie?" she finally asked. "Please! Yes! I want you, my darling!" I whispered. Sandy raised herself on both hands and lifted her leg over me. Very slowly she began to lower herself, shifting her body slightly until our organs fitted themselves together. Her moist pussy slid gently over my erect penis. Her muscles seemed to tighten over me as she began to pump her hips up and down. All the action was hers as I tried my best to hold myself still. My tension had become almost unbearable when she gasped, "Now, darling!" We exploded into a frenzy of passion. As our bodies began to relax again Sandy turned us on our sides while drawing me with her so that I remained impaled. She continued to hold me tenderly and I wrapped my arms around her. In that pleasant afterglow I inquired languidly, "Why did you call me Sadie?" "It's your new name. I chose it because without the Sadie Hawkins dance, we might never have gotten together." Still nestled in Sandy's arms, I repeated the name to myself as I drifted off to sleep. This had been a never-to-be-forgotten day. A new relationship About six in the morning, with just the barest bit of light beginning to peak through the window, I felt a hand stroking my back, and a voice whispered, "Are you awake, Sadie?" Slowly it registered that 'Sadie' referred to myself. "I think so," was my tentative answer. Sandy began to caress me again and before very long our bodies once more responded to each other with profound ecstasy. Afterwards I drifted asleep again and did not awaken until the bright sunlight through the bedroom window shone directly on my face. It was ten in the morning, and I was alone in the bed. I sat up and looked around the room. On one chair a man's trousers hung neatly over the back. Lying on the seat was a folded garment which looked like a corset. I realized it must be what Sandra had worn under her business suit to conceal her breasts. "Hmmf," I thought, "I had to wear falsies, and she had to conceal the real thing." On a chair at the other side of the bed my satin robe was draped, with my slippers on the floor nearby. "I don't see my own clothes anywhere, so I guess I'll have to be Sadie for a little while longer," I told myself as I rose and slipped the robe on over my nightdress, before hurrying into the bathroom. When I emerged from the bathroom, hairnet still in place, and reminded anew of my long crimson nails, I found Sandy, clad in her men's pyjamas, slippers and robe, sitting reading on the chesterfield. The loose robe almost, but not completely obscured the line of her breasts. She appeared so authentically male that if I had not known of her breasts I would not have guessed. Looking up from her magazine, she greeted me, "Good morning, Sadie. I trust you slept well." I walked over and planted a kiss on her forehead. She reached up and drew me down for a second on the lips. "Perhaps you would like to clean your face a little and then prepare us some breakfast," she suggested. I realized that she was referring to the blond stubble on my face and returned to the bathroom to shave. "So she expects me to take care of the kitchen chores!" I thought to myself as my red tipped fingers drew a safety razor over my cheeks. "Well, I guess it's appropriate considering how I'm dressed." With my apron in place I bustled around the kitchen finding the ingredients, and preparing a breakfast of bacon and eggs, toast and coffee. I delighted in the feel of my heavy satin skirts brushing my knees as I moved about. Sitting at the table with Sandy across from me while we ate felt somehow very natural and right. After I had poured her a second cup of coffee, she began to talk seriously. "Do you forgive me for fooling you into thinking we were going to a Hallowe'en Party?" "So you never did intend to take me there." "Well, it was a backup plan, but as soon as I saw you dressed up I knew it wouldn't be necessary. You make a beautiful woman. Am I forgiven?" "I forgave you in the bedroom. That was worth every moment of torture." "Torture! Did you mind very much getting dressed up? "Oh, no. That part was fun, but it was agony going out in public. For the first hour I was terrified that someone would find out. Then I sort of got used to it. I really enjoyed dancing with you." "Are you prepared to do it again?" "You mean dress up again like this, and go out with you? The whole bit?" "Not exactly. You'd need to wear street clothes if we went outside," she smiled. She looked rather anxious while I paused to think before answering. Then a pleased grin brightened her face as I said slowly, "Yes, I think so." She rose and came around the table , put one hand under my chin, and raised my head to receive a kiss. "That answer makes me so happy," she added as she returned to her chair. "Our problem is solved. We would have no difficulty relating to each other if we were husband and wife." "I didn't say I would become your wife, just that I would agree to dress as a girl sometimes." She changed the subject. "Where would you like to go this afternoon?" "You mean as a woman?" "Of course." "I'll let you decide, but there is one condition. You'll have to wash my back when I take my bath." "Agreed. Will I be Sandy or Sandra today?" "I'd prefer Sandy. That way we can kiss in public." With supervision and some help from Sandy, I managed to dress myself again, make up my face, and fluff my hair. She expressed herself as well pleased with the result. She chose to have us spend the afternoon strolling to the park, where we wandered about, hand in hand, admiring the flowers and watching the ducks in the pond. No one gave the slightest hint of suspecting we were anything but a pair of young lovers, and I enjoyed myself immensely. Late in the afternoon we retrieved Sandy's car and she chose a drive-in for our supper. "Another time you can be the cook," she suggested, "but for the moment our kitchen cupboard is pretty bare." "Our kitchen? I thought it was a borrowed apartment." She confessed then that the apartment was leased in her name, and that she had furnished it. The realization came to me that she had also bought the clothes I was wearing. This weekend together was no spur-of- the-moment affair. She explained how, with Linda's help she had made all the arrangements. And I remembered Linda's earlier warning about what a determined girl Sandy was and how she usually managed to get her own way in the end. She had certainly succeeded in getting her way with me. I could not help but be flattered at the effort she had put forth to get me into bed on her own terms. When Sandy announced that we would return to the apartment and change our clothes for the drive back to the camp, I had a feeling of sadness that a beautiful experience was coming to its end. There seemed a sense of finality as the solvent helped loosen and remove my crimson fingernails. It amused, and I think pleased Sandy, that I decided to leave the polish on my toenails. Our greatest difficulty came in persuading my hair to lie relatively close to my head. I would no doubt have to suffer teasing at the office about my suddenly curly locks, but I was prepared to endure that. By eight o'clock we were back in the car for the return to the camp. It had been the most memorable weekend of my life. Throughout the following week I relived over and over again in my mind each moment of that i