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LITTLE VIRGIN By Annie James I first met Carla Thomas at a business meeting in the city. As Assistant Manager I had flown in for the day along with the President and the Treasurer of our company, both of whom were to stay over for a convention while I returned to mind the shop. This tall conservatively dressed woman, a senior vice-president of her firm, presided over the meeting but left most of the talking to others. Being the junior in our group I had little to say, though I listened attentively as each person spoke his piece. Just as I shifted my gaze from one speaker to the next I realized suddenly that her eyes had been focused on me. As our eyes met her left eyelid dipped in a very deliberate wink. Fascinated, I continued to glance covertly at her but she gave no further sign of noticing me. Later, as the meeting was breaking up with handshaking all round she asked, "Did I understand that you are flying right back today?" "Yes, my flight leaves at six." "In that case I can offer you a lift to the airport. It's on my way and I'll be leaving in fifteen minutes." Thus it was that I found myself descending on the elevator to the parking garage with a woman who, in her high heels, stood a whole head taller than myself. That head was crowned by beautiful auburn hair framing regular features and a creamy complexion. Her even white teeth showed behind her slight grin as her blue eyes looked down at me. When we left the elevator she took my elbow to guide me to the door of her red Lotus. Once we were seated in the car and she had manoeuvred it expertly out into traffic, I dared to ask why she had winked at me during the meeting. "No particular reason, just I think you're cute!" "Beside you I feel like a midget!" I replied. "How tall are you?" "Five foot five." "Does that mean you wouldn't date a girl as tall as me? I'm five ten." "I don't mean that. It's just that it feels strange looking so far up to a woman. I'd be more intimidated by your position. Vice-president of such a big firm is pretty important." "Lately there haven't been too many men in my life. Maybe they are afraid of my position." Instead of dropping me at the terminal she drove into the parking area. "I'll join you for supper," she said simply, without asking a by-your leave. "This is a business lunch and you are my guest," she added before directing us into the VIP area. Later on the plane, I reflected on her skill in the restaurant. She had neatly had me accepting her suggestions for expensive choices from the menu, and she had unobtrusively arranged to sign the bill before I could protest. I was flattered to feel that such a high-powered woman executive had taken such pains to impress a lowly assistant manager such as myself. Imagine my further surprise on arriving home to find a package from the florist between the doors. It contained a single red rose with a message on the card reading, "Thank you for a lovely time, Carla." CHAPTER 2 A week later I received a phone call at the office from Carla. "Dayle," she began, "May I ask a big favour?" "I suppose so. What is it?" "You won't be angry when I ask it?" "Of course not! This is beginning to seem very mysterious." "Well, There's this customer of ours from the west coast. He's very taken with me, but I don't want to get mixed up with a married man. He's in town for three days and wants me to go out with him on Friday night. I told him my fianc? had asked me to the opera that night. Then he went out and bought tickets and wants us to be his guests." "So what's the problem?" I asked, a suspicion beginning to form in my mind. "I don't have a fianc?. Would you be my date, if Epsom Industries pays for your air travel?" "Er --- I'm very flattered. Just a minute while I check whether I could come." I stalled for time while I gathered my thoughts before answering. "Yes, I could catch the four o'clock plane. That gets to the city at five-fifteen." "Wonderful! I'll wire the air tickets right now. Thank you so much! You're a lifesaver." Thus late Friday afternoon I descended from a jet at the city airport. The stewardess had delivered a message that I would be met by the company car and chauffeur and that a room had been reserved for me at a luxury hotel in the name of Epsom Industries. "Darling!" Carla exclaimed as she approached me with open arms when we met in the hotel lobby at seven thirty. She drew me to her. Somewhat startled, I brought my arms around to match her embrace while she initiated a kiss. "I so appreciate you doing this for me!" she whispered in my ear just before we broke away from each other. Then aloud she added, "Dayle, meet Henry! Henry, this is my fianc? Dayle! Henry insisted on hosting our trip to the concert this evening, so I finally accepted. I hope that is all right with you, Dayle?" "If it pleases you, my Darling," I replied, still overwhelmed by the greeting I had received. We walked the two blocks to the theatre, Carla between us, but holding my hand. Henry was taller than her and it would have looked as if he were her escort and me only a tagalong if she had not made such a point of including me in the conversation. As we sat watching the show she placed my hand in her lap and entwined our fingers. In spite of her friendly conversation there was no way that Henry could fail to appreciate her clear message to him that she reserved herself for me. For my part I found her actions extremely flattering, in spite of the fact that they signified nothing but her desire to properly impress an important customer while keeping him at arm's length. Henry took us to a restaurant before putting us in a taxi back to my hotel where Carla's car sat in the parking lot. She promised to pick him up at eleven the next morning and drive him to the airport. "Would you care to spend the night at my place?" she asked as we entered the hotel. "I -- uh -- uh -- don't think that's fair to you," I stammered in surprise. "That's all right. I like you for that answer," smiled Carla. "Since you are my date though, I'll see you to your door." As we approached my room I tried to express my appreciation for the evening while wondering if I should invite her in. "The pleasure has been all mine," she replied, "You have been a real friend to do this for me. Now, will I pick you up tomorrow before I take Henry to the airport, or after I get back?" "You don't need to feel responsible for me. I can find my own way to the airport." "Nonsense! You are my guest, and in case you hadn't noticed, your return flight is not until Sunday. By the way, do you like hockey? Our firm has a box reserved for the season. We could use it." "I haven't seen an NHL game except on television." "That's settled then. I'll pick you up just after lunch at one o'clock. That way we will have Henry out of our way." "Good night then, Dayle," she added, reaching out to take my right hand in hers. She drew me quickly toward her and before I realized what was happening I received another tender kiss on my lips. Then she abruptly turned and strode down the hall. I slipped my key in the lock and entered the room. Lying in my bed before sleep came I pictured Carla in my mind and thought back over our friendly intimacy of the evening. I knew that I wanted to see more of her, but would she want to see me when she felt her obligation was paid off? ..... Saturday afternoon she was dressed casually, slacks and sweater with low-heeled sandals. "Hi!" she greeted me as we met in the lobby. "Where to this afternoon? Bowling? A movie? The zoo?" "You choose. You're the hostess." "In that case we'll go bowling. I haven't been for a long time." At the alley we seemed evenly matched. I managed to beat her by two pins on the first line as she failed to score in the final frame. When this situation was repeated in the second game I became suspicious and started to watch her performance critically. I became convinced that she was deliberately holding back to let me win. Finally I said as much to her. "You know you don't have to lay back and let me win." "Do you think I would do that?" "I'm not sure, but it seems funny that you only get behind in the last frame each time." "I'd never admit to such a thing, but you're a dear for suggesting it. Don't you know that I am a high powered business woman who is always beating men at their own games?" She beat me handily in the next two lines. "Will you still like me if I beat you at bowling?" "I like you whatever!" "Do I dare risk playing the rubber match with you?" "I just like your company, whoever wins." The final game was close, but I finally won when a teetering pin which failed to fall spoiled her spare. "There, you can't say I planned that," she commented. "Anyway I don't mind losing to you. I like you too much to compete with you." I tried to pay the bill for the bowling, but once more I found she had outmanoeuvred me, this time by paying in advance. When I finally succeeded in paying for our supper at a hamburger franchise, she protested. "Naughty! Naughty! You know you are my guest. Why do men always think they have to pay? It's just as unfair as if I did not bowl my best just to let you win." At the hockey game she proved to be a knowledgeable fan who did not need to have all the whistles explained to her. She certainly knew as much about the game as I did. Later, sitting in a restaurant booth with me, she began to talk quite seriously. "Would you be angry if you knew that I could have handled Henry without you, that it was an excuse to arrange a date with you?" After a moment of silence she added, "Would you come to the city for another weekend to be with me?" "Unless I were paying my own way, I'd feel like a gigolo." She looked downcast, "But that's just it, you probably can't afford it and I can. Why not think of it as if you were a young girl being courted by a rich man?" "You make me feel like a virgin meeting a man-of-the-world." I had to admit that all of her arguments were valid, but still it did not seem right to me. Finally she said in exasperation, "I am inviting you to come to the city the week after next, but only if you agree that I can pay the bills. Otherwise we won't see each other again. Yes or no?" When I hesitated she added, "No more buts, just yes or no?" "Yes," I finally agreed. "There, that wasn't so hard to say, was it? Now I'll escort my young virgin back to her room so she can get a good night's sleep, and will be ready when I call at seven in the morning to take her to the airport." As a final gesture of independence I grabbed the restaurant check and paid it with a flourish. Carla only smiled. When she had escorted me to my hotel room door, once more I received a sweet goodnight kiss. CHAPTER 3 Two weeks later I again landed at the city airport. A note from Carla and a small package were waiting for me at the ticket counter. The note contained directions for finding her Lotus on the parking lot and directions for finding a particular apartment in a downtown highrise. The package contained keys. The luxury apartment was tastefully and completely furnished down to soap and towels in the bathroom and milk in the refrigerator, but the furniture, curtains, and bedding looked brand new, and I could find no evidence that revealed anything whatsoever about the regular tenant. I had just managed to complete my shower, shave, and dress by seven o'clock when Carla arrived, precisely at the time mentioned in her note. On the way out she led the way to the passenger door of her Lotus, and I thought at first she meant for me to drive, since I still had the keys. Instead she held the door for me to get in. We dined at the Imperial Room at prices which I must confess would have been far beyond my limited means. Having agreed in advance I did not protest when she placed her credit card on the tray with the bill. After the floor show we danced a little before driving back to the apartment. As on the earlier weekend she escorted me to the door, but did not accept my invitation to come in. "This has certainly been a memorable evening for me," she said. "I hope you have enjoyed being my date." "Thank you for a lovely time," she added as she drew me toward her for a goodnight kiss. Later, lying in bed, I remembered that this kiss seemed fractionally longer than before, but perhaps a trifle more intimate. I wondered what it all meant. I certainly was fond of Carla and she seemed very taken with me. Why had she turned my question aside when I asked who was the regular tenant of this apartment? She simply said it was not in use, so I might as well stay here. Saturday, we golfed in the morning, bowled in the afternoon, and again went to the hockey game in the evening. After the bowling she suggested that we should both go to the apartment to freshen up before supper. She had brought along a small suitcase with a change of clothes. Before we left again she suggested it was too bad I couldn't cook, because it would have been nicer to eat together there than to go again to a restaurant. That evening she again left me at the apartment door after a goodnight kiss. Except for a quick trip to a neighbourhood delicatessen I spent Sunday morning quietly in the apartment reading the weekend papers. Carla arrived at noon. She declared herself delighted with the sandwich lunch which I had set out. During an afternoon spent walking in the park she extracted a promise from me to return in two weeks time. Back at home Carla continued to fill my thoughts. How could I deal with this girl who was so obviously out of my financial league? I hated to accept her financing of our time together, but I hated even more the thought of not seeing her. Twice Carla phoned to say she missed me and wished I were in the city with her. On the day before my next flight a note arrived suggesting where I would find her car at the airport and that I should come directly to the apartment to meet her. Keys were enclosed. At the apartment door she greeted me with a warm kiss and immediately led me to the living room for a cocktail before dinner. "Hadn't we better get started for supper?" I asked when she began to refill my glass for the second time. "In a little while, I have some presents for you first." "Presents! It's not my birthday." "Don't spoil my fun, I wanted to buy something for you." She produced three boxes from behind her chair and placed them on the sofa beside me. The first contained a pair of grey suede shoes with narrow somewhat raised heels, obviously expensive. The style was somewhat more extreme than I would choose for myself. At her urging I tried them on and walked across the room. They were a perfect fit. "They really don't go too well with your brown trousers," lamented Carla. "Open up the other parcels." Soon afterward she shoved me into the bedroom to try on a new grey velvet suit and dark grey silk shirt. The clothes fit me perfectly. Later I learned that Carla had taken measurements from my clothes in the closet while I had showered that previous week. However I felt they were far too effeminate for me. I would never have chosen anything like that for myself. The velvet trousers required no belt and the pockets were small. The long sleeved shirt was designed with a roll collar and instead of buttons in front had a zipper down to the left shoulder. The suitcoat had no lapels. A short string joining two buttons was provided to link a single buttonhole on each side of the jacket front. As I looked at myself in the mirror it dawned on me that these clothes were almost a perfect match for what Carla was wearing, except that hers were blue and she had on a skirt rather than slacks. The word 'unisex' came to mind. Carla was delighted with my appearance, but I was apprehensive about appearing so dressed in public. I was at a loss for words in trying to express my feelings without offending her. Oddly enough she seemed to understand my embarrassment. "In case you are nervous about the 'unisex' look, we can eat at a drivein where you won't have to get out of the car." Much to my relief we met no one in the corridor or the elevator to the parking garage. I was happy to sit inconspicuously in the car while we drove. Carla pulled into the only free parking space, one at which the carhop approached from the passenger side. "Good evening, Ma'am! What would you like this evening?" Startled, I could feel my face turning red as I gave the order in my lowest voice. Afterwards Carla drove to a movie theatre. Because of the drivein incident it took her five minutes to persuade me that it was dark enough that no one would pay us any attention going into the theatre. Unfortunately for me it turned out that the entrance corridor past the ticket booth was well lit and I was again addressed as 'Ma'am'. This time I only mumbled 'No Smoking' and followed the usher. As soon as we were seated Carla took my hand and squeezed it in hers. "I'm sorry, Dayle," she offered, "I hadn't meant for you to be embarrassed. It really is sweet of you to humour me." "You know I really like to please you," I answered. We continued to hold hands until it was time to leave. As we filed out the doorman spoke, first to Carla, then to me. "Good night, Ma'am! Good night, Ma'am! We hope you enjoyed your evening. Do come back again!" Carla yielded to my entreaty to go straight back to the apartment. To my surprise, instead of leaving me at the door, she herself suggested coming in for a nightcap. "You will have to mix it yourself if you are in a hurry. I have to get to the washroom. I did not dare to go while we were out." Feeling much relieved I returned to the living room where Carla was ready with a drink mixed and the record player on. She had taken off her jacket and insisted that I remove mine also. We talked a bit, danced to slow music, kissed, then sat together holding each other close. I had begun to think we would progress to the bedroom when Carla suddenly sat up and announced that she really must leave. Before going out the door she added enigmatically, "I think I know the answer to our problem. Will you try an experiment tomorrow?" "What experiment?" "I'll tell you tomorrow. Just say you will do it. You won't be sorry!" "Well, if it makes you happy." "It does. Now give me a kiss to seal the bargain!" CHAPTER 4 Carla arrived in the morning just as I was about to climb into the shower. I slipped on my bathrobe to answer the door. "Hi, here's our breakfast," she began, handing me a small bag of groceries. "Put these in the kitchen. I see I got you up." "I was just about to take my shower." "Well, you go ahead while I fix the table." "You haven't forgotten your promise," she said while I, still wearing my bathrobe, sat eating my cereal. "What did I promise to do?" "I said I would tell you later, but for starters you can put on your new suit." "Are we going out?" "Yes, but you can wear your topcoat while we walk to the car." At her suggestion our coats were placed in the back of the car before we left the parking garage. She drove to the parking lot of a large shopping centre and stopped in an area away from other cars. Then she turned toward me. "Our experiment is simple. You are embarrassed by being mistaken for a woman when you are wearing these clothes, but if no one could recognize you, you would have nothing to be embarrassed about. So we will change your appearance." With that she reached under the seat and brought out a flat jar. "This is pancake makeup, like actor's use. We'll spread it over your face so we can change your complexion. When I am finished you won't recognize yourself." "Are you going to give me a false mustache, or a beard?" "I could, but I don't think it will be necessary." She quickly spread the cream over my face and forehead, rubbing it in with her fingers and wiping off the excess with tissue. "Now, I want you to close your eyes and keep them closed while I work." For the next five minutes I sat still or turned my head according to her directions. Various things which I could smell but not see were rubbed or daubed on my face. I was shushed each time I began to say something. Particular attention seemed to be directed in the area of my eyes. "Now I will slip this hat on your head." I could feel the band around my head and it felt as if it were pulled down over my right ear. "Hold your lips steady now." Something which felt like a brush passed over them twice. "Squeeze them against this tissue. Now a final bit of powder." "Just a minute more while I arrange the mirror on the back of the sun visor. Now you can turn to the front. Open your eyes, and voila!" Looking out at me from the glass was the face of a young woman, neatly but not extravagantly made up. A grey tam sat on the head and slanted over one ear. I stared at the strange image, too shocked to say a word. "Well," asked Carla at last, "do you think anyone will wonder whether to call you Miss or Mister now?" "I don't know what to say. This isn't what I thought I was agreeing to." "But you did agree! Now turn this way again and I will put some polish on your fingernails." When this had been accomplished she closed up the cosmetic case which she had been holding on her lap and slid it under the seat. "Keep holding your fingers out for the polish to dry while I drive closer to the shopping centre." "Why are we going there?" "We'll have to get you a few accessories to complete the picture. To begin with you can't be reaching in your pocket for a handkerchief. We'll have to get you a purse." As we parked near the mall entrance I was given further instructions. "Walk slowly with short steps. Don't try to hurry. Just stick close to me. Keep your voice down and let me do the talking to store clerks. Here, put my purse under your arm until we get you one. Be sure to hang on so it could not be jerked away from you." Carla got out of the car and came around to my side. She opened the door and took my hand as I stepped out. "I'm nervous. It feels like everyone is looking at me." "There's nothing to worry about. Here, I'll drop my keys in the purse and we'll be off." Hesitantly I fell in beside her and we proceeded into the mall. At the first store we came to, Carla led the way to a jewelry counter. I watched as she looked through the collection of clip-on earrings. She held several up beside my face to examine the effect. Finally she chose a large red pair. She proceeded then to match these with a red necklace and a red bracelet, both of which she tried on me. Satisfied with her choices she led the way to the checkout counter where she paid with a credit card from her purse. Outside the store she made me stand still while the earrings were clipped on my ears. The necklace and bracelet were quickly added to my costume and we continued along the mall corridor with me feeling all the more conspicuous. At our next stop I received a red leather purse into which the items from my pockets were dropped. In a small wig boutique Carla carefully studied the samples before selecting three to be taken into a mirrored cubicle. Her choice remained on my head while the sales clerk clipped it a little, then brushed and sprayed it. I enjoyed looking at my altered appearance as reflected from the mirror. The tam was dropped in a shopping bag and we continued through the mall, my head now crowned with magnificent blond hair. Nervous though I still was, my eyes kept turning to catch my reflection in the store windows we passed. Carla stopped in front of each ladieswear store and asked my opinion of the dresses which caught her eye. I tried to noncommittally avoid showing very much interest, but did answer when appropriate, "No, I don't like that," or "Yes, That would look good on you, Carla." We were sitting in a small restaurant finishing a coke when she asked if I were feeling warm and would I be more comfortable without my suit jacket. "Yes," I answered without thinking and began to undo the button. "Hold on," interjected Carla, "That will take some preparation. Let's go into the department store next door." Half an hour later she led me into a women's washroom where, with my jacket off and my silk shirt carefully lifted over my blond curls, a black bra was fastened around my chest and breast forms were carefully tucked into place. Then a lacy black camisole was dropped over my shoulders and my shirt slipped back on. "Now sit back down and put on these stockings in place of your socks," added Carla, handing me a pair of nylon knee-highs. The combination of Carla's presence in the enclosed space and the silken clothes suddenly began to affect me. As I pulled up the stockings I could feel the beginnings of sexual arousal. When I tried to stand up I was betrayed by a telltale lump at the front of my trousers. Carla noticed at once. "Oh, oh, you can't go out like that. You wait here. I'll be back as quickly as I can. Don't forget to latch the door." With that she slipped out, leaving me to sit by myself for what seemed forever. I could hear others coming and going from the washroom, but fortunately no one tried to enter the extra large cubicle for the handicapped where I was ensconced. At last I heard Carla's voice speaking softly from the adjacent cubicle. I looked down to see her hand holding a small parcel under the wall. "Put this on and then meet me out front." The parcel contained a black pull-on panty girdle which, at first glance, I was sure would never go around me. Nevertheless, after some tugging I managed to adjust it so that I felt secure against the risk of another telltale lump in my trousers. Finally released from my cubicle prison, I joined Carla beside the wall sink and mirror. "Take your compact out of your purse and freshen up the powder on your nose and around your chin," she instructed. I followed her directions, surprised to find a large silver compact which she must have placed in my purse when my attention was on something else. "Now, freshen up your lipstick. Careful strokes. Like this." She demonstrated on herself in the mirror next to me. "Now blot your lips with a piece of tissue." As I looked at myself in the glass I could feel the need for the girdle holding me securely in place. I was dazzled by my own appearance. My face was impeccably made up and framed by smoothly curled hair. Red earrings, necklace, bracelet, and fingernails matched my lipstick and contrasted with my grey silk blouse. Bra straps and the lace of my camisole were faintly visible through the semi-opaque material. My narrow waist was rendered more distinct by the taut waistband of my slacks, falling smoothly over my girdled hips. "Yes, you do look lovely," commented Carla as I stepped back from the mirror to experience the whole effect. Reluctantly I turned to follow as she led the way back into the mall. Just in time I remembered to take my purse along. After a trip back to the car to drop our jackets, our next stop was a shoe store. Before entering I was cautioned to speak in a low voice. Still much aware of myself, but not quite as nervous as before, I could not help noticing the eagerness with which the young salesman served us. I thoroughly enjoyed the attention he lavished on me as I was fitted with a pair of red pumps. Carla wisely restricted my choice to medium heels which, though they felt strange, I managed without difficulty. For the rest of the day my changed posture from the higher heels kept me constantly aware of my altered appearance. For lunch Carla led the way to a department store cafeteria. I felt more anonymous in that busy atmosphere. She made no comment about my uncharacteristic choice of a salad plate and coffee with no desert. Afterward another trip to the washroom was made to freshen up powder and lipstick. I was very hesitant when Carla suggested our usual few lines of bowling. I only agreed provided it be at a different alley. I hated to change my new pumps for low-heeled bowling shoes. I was constantly aware of the eyes of several male bystanders as I delivered my balls. I felt my face redden with a blush when they clapped for my strike which won the second game. Too flustered to continue, I fled to the washroom. With powder and lipstick once more restored, I changed back to my red pumps and we left the alley. "I'm sorry I got so rattled," I apologized to Carla. "Don't let it worry you. It's just something you have to get used to," she replied. "Too bad though! You were really bowling well! Anyway let's take a drive. I should make a call to pick up a few things." CHAPTER 5 A half hour later we drove up to the front door of a large house set back from the road in a wooded section of the suburbs. "Come in," said Carla, hopping out of the car and leading the way into the small portico. She pushed the buzzer, then opened the door and stepped inside. "Are you home, Mother?" she called. A tall stately woman, an older version of Carla herself, appeared in the archway. "Carla! How nice to see you! Come right in. Mrs. James is here. We're just having a cup of tea." "Mother, this is my friend Dayle. She is in the city for the weekend." I was almost too dumbfounded to speak, but mumbled something as Mrs. Thomas shook my hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Dayle. Do come into the living room." Still somewhat shocked, I managed better with the introduction to Mrs. James. Soon we were all chatting amiably as we waited for the teapot. Most of the conversation centred on Carla and her career, but I was called upon to explain where I was from and that I held a minor executive position, not really comparable to Carla's. The latter helped me out by steering the conversation into other channels, but not before Mrs. James commented on how different things are nowadays and what opportunities young women have today. All would have been well and we would have left after a short time had it not been for a spilled cup of tea. It slipped from Mrs. Thomas's fingers as she passed it across my knees to Carla. Suddenly my thigh was soaked with hot, wet liquid. "Ooh!" I squealed, jumping up and pulling my trouser leg away from my skin. "How clumsy of me!" apologized Mrs. Thomas. "Carla, take Dayle upstairs and find her one of my skirts to wear while we wash and dry her slacks." Shortly I was sitting on the edge of a bed wiping the red spot above my knee with a towel. Carla delivered my slacks to her mother for cleaning, then returned to find me a skirt. "Why not slacks?" I inquired. "Mother never wears them," she replied, handing me a floor length black half slip. "Put this on quickly before anyone sees your hairy legs." A black silk evening skirt with straight lines and a full hem was found to complete my costume. As I stood in front of the mirror that thrill of recognition returned. "It looks as if I were going to a dance," I whispered. "You'd be the belle-of-the-ball," was the immediate reply. Back downstairs Mrs. Thomas made no comment on Carla's choice of a skirt. We sat down to complete our tea party with myself very conscious of the rustle of silk about my legs. "I'll have to send your slacks to the dry cleaners. That's the only way to be sure the stain is properly removed. You'll have to wear my skirt home and I'll have Carla return your slacks next week," she proposed. "OH, you shouldn't bother!" "No, I insist!" . . . . . Having said good-bye to Mrs. James, Carla asked her mother for the parcel she had come for. Before we could get outside the door however, Mrs. Thomas was asking us to stay for supper. "It's almost five now. Your father will be home at five thirty and we'll eat right away; no later than six. You'd like to stay, wouldn't you, Dayle?" "Ah -- it's whatever Carla says." Carla yielded to her mother's pleading. "Good, I'll go stick the meat in the oven." I turned to Carla. "What am I going to do about my face? My beard will soon show through my makeup." She led me upstairs to the bathroom. Here she tied a towel around my neck and then carefully lifted off my wig. With her help my makeup was removed with vanishing cream and tissue, except for the eyeshadow and mascara. She produced a safety razor and shaving cream so I was once more able to clear away the sprouting whiskers. Within fifteen minutes she was again powdering my face over a layer of pancake makeup before restoring my wig. For the first time I observed the process of transforming my visage into that of a beautiful woman. The thrill was just as great as that first look in the car mirror, but this time it did not frighten me as much. I followed Carla back down the stairs just as Mr. Thomas arrived home. Carla greeted him at the door and introduced me. There was little time for conversation however as Mrs. Thomas rushed him off to freshen up, saying that dinner was about ready to serve. Carla and I went into the dining room to set the table with the good china as directed by her mother. Ten minutes later we sat down to a delicious home cooked meal, to which I did not really do justice. Nervously I accepted only small servings in spite of the urgings of Mrs. Thomas, explaining that I was only a small eater. Carla, who knew that this was not always true, looked at me strangely, but did not comment. When we had finished our tea, my suggestion that I help with the clearing up while Carla could chat with her father was quickly endorsed by Mrs. Thomas. She immediately produced an apron to slip over my head and stepped around behind me to tie it. "There, that will guard against any further accidents, though without Carla in the kitchen, you're probably safe anyway." Mrs. Thomas babbled on about how her daughter had never been much for kitchen chores. Between us we soon had the kitchen in order and the dishwasher loaded. Then she volunteered to write out the recipe for the chocolate dessert which I had said I enjoyed. After hanging up my apron I took the proffered recipe paper back into the living room to put in my purse. Carla and her father were having an animated discussion about business affairs. He broke it off to turn to me. "Thank you for staying for supper. Carla comes to see us so seldom." "It was a real pleasure. You wife is an excellent cook." "Dayle is taking my recipe for coconut fudge pudding," interjected Mrs. Thomas. I looked at Carla who managed not to smile. "Do you have anywhere you must go this evening, Dayle?" asked Mr. Thomas. "I've been trying to persuade Carla to stay for the evening. She more or less said it depends on you." "Well, I ---," I began, trying to catch a clue from Carla. "We could have a first-rate game of Bridge! Get out the cards, Martha, and we'll show these young people how it's done!" Thus we spent the evening playing cards. Remembering back I can admit that it was fun, in spite of my nervousness and the difficulty I experienced in concentrating on the game. I found myself constantly thinking about my appearance and thrilling to the feel of the silk skirt draped over my legs. By ten o'clock I pleaded exhaustion from a long day, and after another lunch and tea found myself again in the car with Carla. "You were fantastic!" she enthused. "I never expected our experiment to go so well. You certainly impressed my parents. They think you're a real lady." "I wish you hadn't taken me there. It wasn't fair to fool them like that. What would they say if they knew?" She had no answer for my question, but continued to talk of our experiences as we drove. Back at the apartment she did not stop at the door, but came inside saying, "It would not look well for two girls to be seen kissing in the hall." As soon as the door closed we were in each others' arms for a long tender passionate kiss, the most intimate by far to that time. Carla withdrew first. "My darling little virgin," she whispered. "We must protect you from yourself." "I don't want to be protected," I whimpered. "Nevertheless I am not going to let things go too far. Take off your jacket and come into the bathroom. I'm going to help you remove your makeup." My wig and jewelry were carefully removed and I followed directions for creaming off the makeup before scrubbing my face. "Now brush your teeth, and then into the bedroom to change for bed. When you are under the covers I'll be in to give you a goodnight kiss." She retreated to the living room while I wrestled with girdle and skirt to use the toilet. That done I slipped into the bedroom reluctantly to undress, laying each piece of clothing on the chair as it came off. I could have been quicker, but I paused to feel the smoothness of each article as it was removed. "Are you ready yet?" called Carla just after I had taken off every article of women's clothing. "Just a moment." I slipped out of my jockey shorts and pulled on my pyjama bottoms, then the top, and slipped under the covers. "O.K. now." She entered the room, looked at the pile of clothes, and proceeded to hang things in the cupboard. Then she turned and instructed me to put my arms under the covers. She leaned over to tuck the covers around my shoulders and neck. "Good night, Dayle. You were marvellous. I hope you enjoyed the day as much as I have. Now go to sleep. I'll see you at lunchtime tomorrow." Her lips touched mine lightly. I tried to insert my tongue between her lips, but she would not let us reach our earlier passion. Her hands held the covers around my upper arms so that I could not reach out to embrace her. She stepped back quickly, then turned and left the room. In a moment she appeared in the door again, this time wearing her jacket. "Now close your eyes and off to sleep." She switched off the light. I heard her footsteps cross the living room floor and the click of the latch as she closed the apartment door behind her. CHAPTER 6 I did not want to fall asleep as I lay there wanting Carla and thinking back over that exciting day. How long I lay awake I do not know, but I must have slept soundly at last, because it was the bright sun shining on my face which awakened me about ten in the morning. I rushed into the bathroom for a quick shower. Then without shaving, I hastily pulled on my ordinary clothes so I could slip out to the delicatessen for lunch ingredients and a newspaper. I was almost out the door when the red glint of my fingernails caught my eye. Damn! Frantically I searched the pocket of my topcoat for gloves. None to be had. It was too early in the season. I rushed back to the abandoned purse from which I had already taken my wallet, keys, and money. No nailpolish remover! Nothing in the medicine cabinet either! I sat down again to await Carla's coming. Then I thought of bandaids. The package in the bathroom yielded just four so I wrapped them around the thumb and three fingers of my right hand to cover up the red. After a moment's thought I tore two off and rewrapped them on the thumb and first finger of my left hand. My hands stayed in my pockets on the trip to the store. At the counter three fingers of each hand were carefully folded under, leaving only thumb and forefinger showing. I paid for my packages and carried them away. What a relief when I finally found myself back in the apartment without having been asked any embarrassing questions or enduring any funny looks. By the time Carla arrived I had finished shaving, had the table set, and was sitting reading the paper, still very conscious of my red nails. I jumped up to greet her with a kiss. She held me back from her before our embrace could become as passionate as I wished. "Ah, I see you have lunch ready. You're a real darling. I'm famished." After lunch we talked about our experiences of the previous day. I repeated again how nervous I had been, expecting discovery at any moment. Carla admitted she had tricked me into it, but professed not to be a bit sorry because it had been such a marvellous experience. I complained about meeting her parents. Now I would not be able to meet them as myself. Carla confessed this had not occurred to her when she had, on impulse, taken me there. "Actually, I meant only to slip in and get my parcel while you waited in the car, but it just seemed so natural to bring you inside." We talked on for quite a long while until she had coaxed from me the admission that I had enjoyed the adventure. "Very much?" she asked. "Mmm, yes," I answered slowly, dropping my head and raising my eyebrows toward her. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Can we go for an afternoon walk now?" "Only if you help me remove this nailpolish!" I explained my earlier problem and how I had solved it. She was very apologetic about her oversight in not telling me that the bottle sitting in the medicine cabinet and labelled 'banana oil' could serve as polish remover. "I took it for granted you would know that." The offending colour was quickly removed and we had a delightful walk in the park without any further discussion of my masquerade. Later in the day however, just before we parted at the airport security, she had another request. "You know that Hallowe'en is only a week and a half away." "Of course." "I have been invited to a party next Saturday night. Would you agree to come with me, ----- as a girl?" "Well ---," "Say yes. Please, Dayle!" "Well, O.K. Just to please you." "It does please me. We'll start to get ready on Friday night. Goodbye now." She drew me toward her and we had another deep passionate kiss like that of the night before. This woman could really turn me on. The promise in that kiss stayed on my mind all during the flight home. CHAPTER 7 Carla arrived earlier than usual at the apartment the next Friday, before I had finished my shower in fact. "Just put on your dressing gown and come into the living room," she called. We met for a long sweet kiss in the centre of the room. Then she led me to the chesterfield to sit down. One of her hands lay on my knee. Without preamble she asked at once, "Would you let me set your hair tonight, so you could go without a wig tomorrow?" "Well ---," I could not think of an answer. "Don't we have to go out for supper?" "We can have supper sent over." She leaned over and kissed me again. I could feel her hand on my knee. "Say yes, please, Dayle," she added when we came up for air. "Would it please you that much? O.K. I'll cooperate." A few moments later I was sitting on a stool in front of the kitchen sink with a towel around my neck. I had to bend over the sink while my hair was first shampooed and then rinsed with the kitchen spray. A home permanent kit was brought into play and by the time supper was delivered my head was covered with curlers, around each of which strands of my hair were tightly rolled. While we sat eating at the kitchen table the bonnet of a portable drier enclosed my head, and I found it difficult to carry on a conversation because of the sound of the warm air blowing around my ears. Later she tied a silk scarf over my curlers. "That can stay on until bedtime at least. It would really be better to leave it on till morning, but I don't suppose you would want to sleep in curlers." When I rashly answered that if it really pleased her I would do just that, I was rewarded with another kiss and the words, "You really are sweet, Dayle!" She added, "We have another problem, you know." "What's that?" "Your legs. You can't wear a skirt and nylons with hairy legs." Resignedly I responded, "I suppose not. I'll get the razor." I was made to stand on a chair while Carla scraped the hair from the lower parts of my legs. Fortunately I had thought to put on my undershorts under my kimono. "Now, you go into the bathroom and finish above your knees. Call me when you're ready. I'll come and shave under your arms." By bedtime my face, neck, and shoulders had been creamed, lotion had been rubbed into my hands, and my toenails as well as my fingernails had received a coat of polish. She wanted to pluck my eyebrows too, but I refused. At my suggestion we paused for a cup of tea, but Carla left it for me to prepare while she went into the bedroom. At the table she explained, "I've put a satin pillowcase on the bed so you will be able to turn your head during the night. Even so your head will likely be quite uncomfortable. "You really are a brick to do this," she added. With tea over, I was sent to get into bed while Carla washed up. In a few minutes she came into the bedroom. I was lying under the covers with my head on the pillow. She had been right about it being uncomfortable to sleep on curlers but I was determined not to complain. She took a couple of hangers out of the closet and hung them over the door handle. My pair of red pumps were taken out and set on the floor near the chair. From the dresser drawer she took some items which I could not see and laid them out on the chair. Then, holding a small package in her hand, she came over to the bed. "I don't suppose you know how to put on pantyhose," she said, tearing them out of the package. "You put your thumbs into the toes like this. Put them over your toes and pull them carefully up to your knee. Then do the same with the other leg. They go over your panties. Your panty girdle goes on over top." She turned and hung the pantyhose over the chair and dropped the plastic wrapper into the wastebasket before coming over to sit on the edge of the bed. I pulled my hands out from under the covers and placed them in hers. We sat silently facing each other and holding hands for several minutes. Finally she shifted forward while I lifted my head for a gentle kiss. She drew back quickly, then rose. "I must go, Darling. You need your beauty sleep. We will be all day shopping tomorrow. I'll be over by eight thirty and I want to find you up and dressed. Don't touch your hair or your face, except to shave. I'll help you with your hair and your makeup." Sleep came slowly as the discomfort caused by the curlers kept me constantly shifting position. Finally I lay on my stomach with my head turned only enough to keep me from smothering. My mind kept churning with thoughts about the morrow. I was at the same time both frightened and thrilled. Before eight in the morning I had completed shaving, (odd to do it with a silk kerchief over my hair and red fingernails on the hand holding the razor), had creamed my face and neck according to instructions, and was sitting on the edge of the bed ready to dress. First came the black bra and the fitting of the breast forms, then very dainty nylon and lace panties. The pantyhose went on in the manner prescribed. How I enjoyed running my fingers up and down my clean shaven legs, before, during, and after donning the hose. I stood in front of the mirror while pulling the girdle into place with some difficulty because of sexual excitement. A new black full slip slid over my head and down over my body. With my red pumps on my feet I turned around before the mirror, enjoying the sight of myself in lingerie. From the hangers on the closet door I took my grey silk blouse and a narrow grey velvet skirt in the same material as my slacks and jacket. With these in place I hurried to make the bed and tidy the room. On the kitchen table was a taffeta apron which I donned before setting out the breakfast dishes and cereal. All was in readiness for the arrival of Carla. She greeted me with a warm kiss but resisted my efforts to prolong our embrace indefinitely. Our breakfast conversation consisted of the recitation of my fears about the impersonation, punctuated by her constant reassurances that everything would be perfect. "After all, last week was a total success without any preparation on your part. Are you aware," she asked, "that you have kept your voice perfectly modulated during this whole conversation?" With breakfast over and the kitchen tidied, we proceeded to comb out my hair and make up my face, or rather, I did these things following Carla's directions. Earrings, necklace, and bracelet followed. The results pleased us both. What Carla saw and what the full length hall mirror showed me was a smartly dressed young woman ready to face the world. I would not have looked out of place in an office, on an airplane trip, shopping, or dining in a first class restaurant. Carla, as always, looked her own attractive self and was wearing the powder blue velvet suit which was identical to my outfit except for size and colour. The details of that day of shopping are still clear in my mind and the feelings I experienced were exquisite. Carrying a purse and the vigilance required to keep it safe began to feel quite natural. Being addressed by clerks and strangers as 'Ma'am' no longer surprised me. Guarding the tone of my voice did not present any real problems. We must have visited a dozen dress stores and three or four dresses were tried on me in each. It was fun to be in the fitting room with Carla, and a surprise to me to learn that we could leave without buying anything. Finally the choice was made of a dress for me which Carla felt would be suitable for the party. At my insistence we picked out one for her as well. Then there were stops to buy matching lingerie in both our sizes, followed by a visit to the shoe store where I acquired black pumps with heels a full inch higher than before. Our shopping spree was interrupted by a number of trips back to the car to stow parcels. When sprinkles of rain interrupted one such journey, it led to the purchase of an umbrella, as well as a nylon satin waterproof topcoat with hood, in an exotic yellow colour. Black silk gloves and scarf were chosen for contrast along with knee length black high heeled rain boots. Choosing matching silver jewellery was done with me trying the pieces individually before a mirror. A matching wrist watch was chosen before we left that store. I remember clearly that the last item for which we searched was a purse. When we at last found one on which we could both agree it was almost five p.m. and we hurried back to the apartment. We had been shopping continually since nine thirty with only a brief respite for lunch. I was beginning to feel a strain in the back of my legs from the unaccustomed walking in high heels. CHAPTER 8 Back home I wanted to sit and rest but this was not to be. I was ordered to remove my clothes and shower for the second time that day with a shower cap over my head. Off came the makeup and the razor went over my face once more to be sure that there could be no telltale shadow later in the evening. That done I donned my bathrobe and reported to the bedroom. There Carla had laid out my fresh wardrobe on the bed and I was to dress while she showered. My efficiency in dressing was greater this time round but my pleasure in the process was undiminished. Each matching piece of nylon satin and lace was a shimmering grey in colour. The labels called it 'silver ice'. In a few moments I was again eyeing myself in the full length mirror, running my eyes down from my neatly set hair to my knee length slip, my patterned hose, and my high heeled pumps. After my makeup had been reapplied, and the chips on my nail polish repaired, Carla helped slip my new sleeveless dress over my head and closed the back zipper. My jewellery was added and the final touch was a bit of spray to hold my hair in place. I prepared us a bowl of soup, (not forgetting my apron), while Carla finished dressing herself. It did not seem like much of a meal, but Carla declared that we could fill up on sweets at the party. By the time we were ready to leave it was pouring rain. I agreed with Carla that my yellow coat did not go perfectly with the grey silk dress, but the black accessories certainly matched either. I again admired my appearance in the mirror before stepping out the door. Because of the rain I had to carry my shoes in a bag, along with my purse, while holding an umbrella in the other hand. Along the way I wondered to myself, but did not ask, why Carla was dressed as herself and not costumed for what I assumed to be a Hallowe'en party. On our arrival at a house in the suburbs, Carla brought along a couple of gift-wrapped parcels from the car. These were handed to the hostess, who took them into another room while we hung up our coats and put on our shoes. Then we were led downstairs to a recreation room where I was introduced to Mona, and Betty, and Sarah, and Roberta, and Jane, and another Betty, and several more whose names I have forgotten. Carla knew most, but not all of the women present, who ranged in age from teenagers to grandmothers. All were dressed as if for a night on the town. We had barely made the rounds of the group and found seats when someone spoke out in a stage whisper. "Quiet, everyone, she's coming. Turn out the lights." We sat in the dark, not speaking while we heard the hostess answer the door and welcome another couple. A few minutes later someone came down the stairs. "Where did you say your umbrella is, Rachel?" called a voice from the next room. "In the rec room. There is a light switch just inside the door." Suddenly our room was flooded with light as a pretty young woman stepped through the door. "Surprise!" shouted out several voices, followed by a babble of sounds as everyone started to talk at once. Our hostess came back into the room to complete the introductions. A basket of gaily wrapped presents, surmounted by a paper umbrella was placed before the honoree. I found myself seated beside Victoria, the bride-to-be, as she carefully unwrapped each parcel and thanked the donor profusely. In each case the thanks were accompanied by a peck on the cheek. Jokes were made about many of the household articles, often relating them to sex and the life of newlyweds. Some of the jokes I would not have expected from a group of women. I was not surprised to learn that a set of bath towels carried a card saying, "With best wishes from Dayle." I received my kiss in turn. With the presents opened, the hostess led us through a number of pencil and paper games, all with a wedding theme. Still seated beside Victoria, I was not required to say very much as I could always divert the conversation with another question about wedding plans. When lunch was served I limited my intake in spite of the hunger left from an inadequate supper. At the door later, Carla and I helped each other with coats and boots. Victoria thanked each of us once more for coming, thanked Carla again for bringing her 'out-of-town' friend, and I received a final peck on the cheek. We stepped out into the rain and hurried back to the car. As we drove back to the apartment Carla gripped the wheel with her left hand, holding my silk gloved hand in her right. Talking about the evening, I realized that I had lost my nervousness early on. Everyone had accepted me for what I appeared and I had enjoyed being a part of the strange ritual. I surprised myself by admitting, "That was the most fun I've had for a long time!" Our embrace inside the apartment door was long and passionate, but again Carla broke it up while I wanted to continue and progress to more intimacies. She helped me off with my coat and boots but would not remove hers. "I don't want to spoil things," she insisted. "I want my little virgin to get her beauty sleep. You get off to bed now. I will be back in the morning for breakfast. I would be very pleased to find Miss Dayle Roberts still here. By the way, I left a present for you on the bed." We shared another deep kiss just before she stepped out the door. On the bed I found several parcels. The smallest contained a hair net with a note suggesting I sleep in it. In a shoe box was a pair of dainty high heeled satin slippers. The larger box held a full length yellow satin and lace night dress and matching dressing gown. Its note said, "Dream of me while you sleep in this." Conflicting emotions bothered me as I opened the gifts. "What is Carla doing to me? This is wrong!" I thought. But I could not resist holding the beautiful gown up to myself in front of the mirror. Ten minutes later I was lying in bed luxuriating in the feel of the soft satin against my smooth skin. CHAPTER 9 The clock showed eight as I rushed to the bathroom next morning. Traces of lipstick still showed on my lips as I removed the short stubble from my face. Experimentally I patted a light coat of makeup over my cheeks and chin. A fresh coat of lipstick followed. Satisfied with my face I looked down. A flat chest did nothing for my exquisite gown. Back in the bedroom I slipped it over my head before donning panties and padded bra. When the gown slid back down over my body I was delighted with the effect. With the negligee added I tripped into the kitchen on my high heeled slippers to prepare breakfast. I could hardly wait for Carla's arrival to display my finery. "What a lovely lady! And so beautifully dressed! You're a test of my self-control." These words came from Carla as she separated us from our embrace of greeting. Her flattery was joy to my ears though I would rather have encouraged the sexual excitement aroused by our embrace. She avoided temptation by handing me her coat to hang up while she headed for the breakfast table. Afterwards she sent me to the bedroom to dress while she cleared the table. Then, under her direction, my makeup was completed and my hair combed into place. She insisted that we leave the apartment, saying, "Your virtue will be much safer where there are other people around." I did not feel the same desire to protect my 'virginity'. She no longer sought places to go where we would be anonymous. We attended a church service where I was introduced to the clergyman and to several members of the congregation. By now my strange role felt natural enough that I was scarcely nervous. For lunch we met Victoria and her fianc?. The discussion was all about details of the wedding at which Carla was to be one of the bridesmaids. The two women talked animatedly while, with some difficulty, I made polite conversation with Fred. Carla commented later as we strolled through the park that she thought I had managed very well. I had not been aware that she was paying such close attention. During the same stroll we were whistled at and I received some pointers on how to discourage unwanted male attentions. By four o'clock we were back in the apartment where I reluctantly changed clothes and resumed my male identity for the trip to the airport and the flight home. We had considerable difficulty making my hair lie flat in its normal manner. Finally we resorted to hair spray and I pondered the wisdom of keeping my hat on during the flight. It was not until mid-flight that events of the weekend began to fill me with self-doubt. For two days I had dressed and acted as a woman. Yes, I had even thought like one as I identified with Victoria's wedding plans. I had accepted a female identity which would preclude associating with a number of Carla's friends as my normal self. And for what? I did not seem to have made any progress with Carla. She still set strict limits on the intimacy of our caresses. She supplied all the money for our relationship, and certainly she spent it like water. What would be the total bill for Saturday's shopping spree? This whole thing was totally out of my financial league. The old adage, "He who pays the piper calls the tune," ran through my mind. And yet, the whole thing was fun, and I remained totally fascinated by Carla. But could I continue to be her pawn? I ought to break off the relationship permanently. I resolved that I would not return to the city in the near future. That decision taken, I tried to will myself to think of other things and to lift my self-imposed mood of depression. The gloomy thoughts were still present as I slipped the key into my apartment door. Inside the telephone was jangling. I did not hurry, thinking that whoever was calling would have given up before I could reach the phone. The ringing continued and finally I picked it up to hear Carla's voice. "Hello, Darling! I couldn't wait for you to get home. I miss you so much already." "I miss you too, my Sweet." Her call lasted almost an hour. We were just like two teenagers hogging the family phones. My gloom was lost in the delight of talking to her. My negative thoughts from the journey home received no mention. We parted reluctantly at last and I headed for bed. I slept in the nude. CHAPTER 10 A message reached my desk just before noon on Monday, asking me to phone Carla 'collect' at her office at one thirty. The conversation began with her words. "Oh, Dayle, I'm so glad you were able to call. Are you alone?" "Naturally, Darling!" "Would you be able to get off work for the balance of the week? Or at least for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday?" "Probably, I have some holidays saved up. What would it be for?" "Victoria is here and she needs a big favour. Please say yes for my sake." "What is the favour?" "Just a minute. She's here in the office. I'll put her on the line. Do say yes now!" Five minutes later I sat back stunned. One of the bridesmaids had been rushed to the hospital this morning and was having her appendix removed at this very hour. I had just agreed to be the replacement. CHAPTER 11 That evening I washed my hair thoroughly to remove the brilliantine which had been holding it close to my head and reducing the curl. By Tuesday noon I was back in the downtown city apartment. I phoned for Carla at her office. It was an hour before she could get free of a meeting to call back. Her instructions were brief. "Get dressed and wait for me. Don't answer the door and don't go out until I arrive to check you over. Sorry I can't talk longer. Goodbye, Love." I set out to follow her instructions, happily reflecting on her use of the word 'Love' in place of my name. The lingerie which I had worn on the weekend had all been thrown into the laundry hamper on Sunday. Carla had said she would take care of it. The hamper was now empty but a brown paper bag with a laundry tag on it sat just inside the front door, just where Carla had left it when we set out for the airport. I was considering what to do about this when the phone rang again. Carla's message was hurried. "Your clothes aren't back from the laundry yet, Hon, so take a leisurely bubble bath and I'll be over at four thirty. Bye again, Love." Again she used that term of endearment. I smiled happily as I lay back in the warm water. When she finally arrived I had run the razor over my legs and was painting my toenails. I wrapped my negligee tighter about me, met her in the hall for a brief kiss and took the packages she brought into the bedroom. This time my panties and bra were white nylon. I sat down to put on my dark pantyhose, then watched myself again in the mirror as the white girdle stretched over my hips and compressed my waist. Once more I enjoyed the feeling as the white nylon slip slithered down over my body. My grey velvet skirt came next before I called Carla to fasten the semi- transparent white blouse with its lace trim down the front and buttons up the centre back. Because of the condition of my hair my wig was brought out and fitted into place. Then I carefully followed Carla's directions in applying makeup to my face. Standing in front of the mirror I was just as amazed as before at my total transformation. I was reluctant to call Victoria to tell her of my arrival because of fear that my voice might betray me when not accompanied by a visual impression, but Carla insisted, reminding me that I had spoken to her on the phone the previous day. Victoria suggested that Carla and I should meet her at the hospital where she would be visiting the convalescing Doreen. On the way to the hospital we purchased a bouquet of flowers and a get well card, but our call had to be kept quite short because of the number of visitors. Victoria left with us and plans for the ne