My Wonderful Obsession 31 free porn video

My Wonderful Obsession Part 31: On the Rebound There's nothing like a decade or two of experience when it comes to human relationships, so while I was lying on my bed contemplating Erica's advice about Mark, it was easy for me to see her point on the upside of kissing and making up, even if groveling has never come naturally to me. The first thing I decided was to buy a nice, mushy card and write Mark a heartfelt letter of apology to go with it. I'd forget about trying to pin the blame on my hormones, or my fear of what his parents might think, or anything else that might come across as lame excuses. While I was collecting my thoughts and writing them down in a first draft of the letter, I couldn't help thinking about my new friend. Even though she kept reminding me that she had to make some serious compromises and take some big life risks to be Ted's 'wife,' I just couldn't get over how enticing her whole situation sounded. I mean, if I ever had the chance to live my life like that, I'd feel like I'd died and gone to heaven. Especially if my life could be spent with the man of my dreams, namely mister Mark McCowan. How stupid and immature I'd been to let my relationship with him crash on the rocks! I'd even broken a promise I made when I phoned him at work during the summer - "Never in a million years," I'd replied, when he asked me if I was 'doing business' with another guy. If only I could get him back, from then on I'd do exactly what Erica was doing to keep her man on a tight leash - I'd be his dream girl, totally committed to him and tending to his every need without the slightest hesitation, and keeping myself looking so gorgeous that he'd never feel the need to even look at another woman, or another man for that matter. And if I played my cards right, eventually I'd be Mark's very own trophy wife! ***** Auditions for Kiss Me Kate were held on the Friday of that same week, and I'm sure my renewed optimism made a big difference to my performance - if Mr. Nelson and Ms. Griffith's reactions were any indication. I felt optimistic I'd scored the part I was hoping for. Certainly there wasn't much competition for the lead roles, most of the better senior performers having graduated high school the year before. The only competition I thought I'd have for the part of Lois Lane / Bianca would be Cindy Cohen. Kath told me she had a great audition too, so it was just a matter of playing the waiting game for a few days until the cast list was posted. Now there was just one more thing to take care of, to top off an encouraging week and put my life back on the right track. So it happened that, after dinner that evening, I hopped a bus to head for Mark's place. My plan was to surprise him at home, get him to take me out somewhere for dessert, and hand him the card. I'd found one with the perfect inscription: on the front was a watercolor picture of a single yellow rose, and the inscription read, "I Apologize." And inside it said, "Please forgive me". I'd signed 'Yours Forever, Sandra" and added a dozen X's and O's, then folded and tucked my long letter of apology into the card and sprinkled a little of Mark's favorite perfume on it before sealing it with a wet lipstick kiss. As for what I'd wear, after an hour or two of indecision, I'd settled on an outfit similar to what Erica had worn to the group meeting, except for the fur coat of course. I made sure my hair and face were flawless and I wore my best jewelry and Mark's favorite fragrance. I really wished I had a pair of calf-height high-heeled black leather boots like Erica's, but that would have to wait till I had a few hundred extra dollars to spare. The three bus rides it took to get there were interesting, what with all the ogling of the various males young and old, some of whom parked themselves right next to me and stole sideways glances. But I didn't let it bug me. I just kept thinking of what Betty had said, and assumed that those ones simply wished they could be me! The bus stop was a couple of blocks from the McCowan residence, and I found myself almost jogging the remaining distance to the man I loved so much, the man I was determined to never mistreat, mistrust, or let get away ever again. If I wasn't wearing my low-heeled winter boots I would have! I wasted no time bounding up the front steps and ringing the doorbell. Mr. McCowan's face soon appeared at the side window and the door opened a second later. "Alexandra!" he exclaimed. "What brings you here this evening?" He glanced back and forth outside. "Where's your car?" "I came on the bus. I need to see Mark - he's home tonight, isn't he?" "Uh, well, no actually ... he's out for the evening. Why don't you come in?" "Oh ... thank you," I said softly, realizing that I hadn't prepared myself for the possibility he might not be home. "Is he out with Ben?" The thought crossed my mind that I could reach him on his cell phone. "No - his friend Pamela," Mr. M replied, and I noticed that he seemed to immediately regret sharing that loaded piece of information. But if he did, it didn't come close to comparing with how the revelation made me feel. It was like a wave of nausea washed over me, and it left me in a total state of shock. I barely noticed that Mark's dad was still speaking. "... didn't know if we'd ever see you again ... Mark's been pretty depressed lately ... Pam came to see him at work and cheer him up ..." All I wanted to do at that moment was get the hell away from there, to be alone where I could maybe gather my thoughts, try to make some sense of what I'd just heard, and figure out what to do next. "I, uh ... I'd better go now. I'm sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Nelson ... I mean, Mr. McCowan ..." "Let me give you a ride home ..." "No, I need to go - I mean, to take the bus ... I, uh ... I'll see you later, sir." And with that I retreated down the front steps and made my way back in the direction of the bus stop. And with every step, I felt a growing sense of devastation, like my world had completely caved in on me. As I approached the bus stop the thought occurred to me that it would be at least another half-hour before the next one came, so without a moment's hesitation I just walked right past it into the night. Like I said, I was completely numbed by the news that Mark was out with Pam that night. That might explain why I got completely lost, and maybe why I couldn't care less if I was. I think the wind had come up because I recall hearing a swishing, moaning sound, and I vaguely remember a car full of young guys going past a couple of times, honking and whistling at me, but I'm pretty sure I didn't give a shit what they did. They could gang-rape me for all I cared! Eventually I found myself at a big intersection where there was an all- night gas station, and I trudged through the entrance and absent-mindedly grabbed a restroom key from a hook inside the door. "That's the men's," said the woman at the till. As I replaced it and took the right one, she asked me if I was okay. "Not really," I replied truthfully in a low voice she likely had trouble hearing. "Can I call you a cab?" she offered, and I nodded mechanically as I made my way to the restroom. Once inside with the light on, I was a little shocked at my appearance. My previously perfect hairdo was all wind-blown, and my carefully applied eye makeup was streaked all over my face. My eyes looked so red that I wondered if the attendant figured I was on some cocktail of illicit drugs. But I could barely muster any concern at all about my appearance. All I knew was that my dreams were now thoroughly and permanently shattered and there could be no going back, ever. And it was all because of my own stupidity and pig-headedness! ***** What a strange world we live in. Isn't it amazing how one day you can be in the depths of despair, and the very next on top of the world? Unfortunately that wasn't how it was for me, but it was certainly the case for the couple I saw on the twenty-four-hour news channel I'd parked myself in front of after I got home that night. I knew that sleep would never come, and it was way too painful to be awake without some kind of mindless distraction. Listening to music was out of the question, since that would have stirred up so many powerful emotions that I'd probably be in danger of killing myself. So the news channel, as boring and pointless as it seemed to me at my age, was the perfect choice. Back to the news story - the couple, a dirt-poor middle-aged black man and woman who lived together but had never been married despite raising four kids, had been buying state lottery tickets for years, even though they couldn't afford to. He'd lost his job when the boot manufacturing company he worked for laid everyone off and moved the factory to China. His 'wife' found a low-paying job as a cleaning lady, but she was on the verge of having to quit because of health problems. They would have been destitute, or worse - but now they were twenty-three million dollars richer. The lucky couple appeared on camera, and they both had that deer-in-the- headlights look you see on people whose life situation had gone overnight from one extreme to the other. Could I relate? Of course, except I felt like I'd started out as the lottery winner and then, in an instant, the whole wad had gone up in smoke. And every time I looked in the mirror, that utterly stunned look was all over my face! But I could still muster up some happiness for the black couple. When asked what would be the first thing he did with his winnings, the man stated firmly that he was going straight out to buy the lady the most expensive diamond ring he could find, and then he'd ask her to marry him, if she'd still have him. 'How incredibly sweet!' I thought, and for a precious moment I found myself celebrating someone else's joy instead of wallowing in my own despair. In the days that followed, I called in sick for work, skipped school, missed my voice lessons and basically just hung around the house, leaving a mess wherever I went and not bothering to even take a shower. I know, that doesn't sound at all like me - but to tell you the truth, I was seriously considering getting off hormones and switching back to being a guy again - one with NO dangerous obsessions. Why? Well, why not? Pretending to be a girl wasn't exactly working out very well for me, was it? Two very special relationships had gone down the drain because of it. And I knew I couldn't bear to make that three. I NEEDED to be in a relationship, just like I needed to breathe ... 'Maybe,' I thought, 'I can find a girl who loves me for who I am - a girly-looking guy who likes going shopping and might want to wear her clothes once in a while, just for fun' ... but that concept seemed pretty far-fetched, kind of like Betty's story about being able to wear girls' clothes at a boys' boarding school. So in the end I never got close to sorting out my emotions or making any decisions. Mom was extremely busy, and I'm sure she was pretty annoyed with my uncharacteristic sloppiness, but strangely, she never said anything about that. Instead I found little handwritten notes she left for me, saying things like "Love you lots, Honey!" and "I'm thinking of you. Love, Mom." Phil on the other hand seemed to give me a wide berth, and I barely spoke to him for almost a week. Kath called a couple of times and I just told her I was sick - which was exactly how I felt, so it wasn't entirely a lie - but I just didn't feel up to having a big conversation with her. I know, girls are supposed to share all their inner turmoil with each other, but I just knew Kath would try to cheer me up with her endless wisdom and I didn't think I deserved to feel any better. Then one day Natalie came by. It was close to noon, and I was still in bed. I heard her voice calling my name but I ignored it, hoping she'd give up and leave. But no dice - there was a knock at my door and without waiting for my reply she strode in and sat next to me. "Don't you think it's time to put your life back in gear?" she stated more than asked. "You're a mess!" "I don't want to. What's the point?" "Sandra, you can't go on like this. I know how bad it hurts - it happened to me twice before. But you have to move on." "Your situation was never like mine," I pointed out. "I can't move on." "I know what you're saying, honey ... but you can't know what life has in store for you. You're so beautiful, and you're so talented. I know a lot of girls who'd gladly trade places with you." "Natalie, that's so ridiculous - why would a real girl ever want to be a FAKE girl like me?" "That's easy - most real girls would do anything to have your looks, and your body, fake or not. Why do you think so many women get boob jobs? And cosmetic surgery? It's because we want so badly to be loved and accepted, and looking beautiful is how we think that'll happen. I know, it's totally unfair, but that's the hand we've been dealt in life." "You don't have THAT problem, Natalie." "Sure I do. We ALL do. We never feel like we can measure up." "To what? I don't get it." "Well, to all those models on the cover of Vogue ... or all those singers and actresses? That's who we're expected to be nowadays." "Okay, you're right - it IS unfair. But it's also crazy ... nobody should expect you to be someone you're not meant to be, and you shouldn't either." Natalie didn't answer me for a few seconds. Instead she arched one of her perfect brown eyebrows, as if to make me think harder about what I'd just said. Then the irony of it hit me. Yes, I'd just spent the past four years trying to be someone I wasn't really meant to be. And look where it got me. But then she up and changed the subject. "You're right, but I'm really here to talk about something else. It's about this summer." I'd have to be an idiot to not know what that meant. "The wedding?" "Uh-huh. Sandra ... I'd like you to be one of my bridesmaids." Funny - I just KNEW she was going to ask me that, but just the same, it was a good thing I was lying down. Still, it was probably the worst time for me to be asked, and in my depressed state of mind I wondered if the only reason she was asking was to be nice. "Oh, Natalie - I dunno ... why me? You've got lots of friends - don't you think it'd be too weird having the groom's brother in the bridal party?" "No - and I've always thought of you as Philip's sister, not his brother ..." "Well, okay, that's nice of you, but ... but I'm not even sure I'm gonna be DOING this anymore. It's too hard ..." Natalie just nodded for a few moments, then said, "You're right, Sandra - it IS hard. Being a woman sucks sometimes ... but then there are all the OTHER times, when you just can't imagine being anything else. It's been like that for you too, hasn't it?" I had to admit, she was totally right about THAT. Images of Disneyland, Fiddler and especially dating Mark as a pretty girl flashed through my mind. There was even a fleeting image of Sandra the hot ski bunny! Not to mention the intense pleasure I got from being able to function in public as a girl, do my hair and makeup, shop for pretty clothes, and all the other little things that go along with walking on the feminine side of the fence. How could I leave all that behind, when I'd only begun to get a taste of what life as a female could be like? So I nodded my agreement. "Yeah, it's like that for me. But I still don't know why you want me as a bridesmaid." Natalie laughed and her eyes sparkled. "You mean you wouldn't jump at the chance to wear a frumpy purple dress to my wedding?" "Uh, I DID hear that's what you have to do. Why IS that, anyway?" "'Cause the bride doesn't want competition! Why else?" "Well THAT's stupid. Nobody could ever compete with you anyway, Natalie." "YOU certainly could, honey! So I'll have to pick something extra-frumpy for you. And no hair and makeup, okay?" "I hope you're just kidding ..." "Not about your looks, kiddo. But if it helps you make up your mind, I promise to make sure your dress is gorgeous. Do we have a deal?" "As long as yours is the most gorgeous-est dress in the whole world ..." "It will be if you help me shop for it ..." That offer sounded way too good to refuse. And for a few seconds I stared at the ceiling, trying to picture myself, the groom's brother, in Natalie's bridal party - wearing a hopefully not-too-frumpy bridesmaid dress and having my hair and makeup done just like the pictures I'd seen in the wedding magazines at Turning Heads. And in spite of my present depressed emotional state, I could clearly see the result in my mind's eye. What an amazing opportunity to get all dolled up, I mused. And besides, what else was I going to wear to the wedding? That I'd be there was a given, so my choice was between doing the guy thing - like, wearing a suit and maybe doing usher duty, but likely NOT being one of the groomsmen, since I'd look way too girly to fit in with Phil's macho buddies - or wearing a basic dress and sitting there like a lump with the other guests. OR I could take Natalie up on her offer and actually participate in a big way in the wedding ceremony of my only brother and my future sister-in-law. No matter what I chose to do, there would be people talking or whispering about me. Then I remembered Erica's advice about trusting my gut and not worrying about what other people think. What was the other thing she said? Oh yeah - having the courage of my convictions. And my mind was made up. "Oh Natalie - I'd love to come shopping with you. And I'll be one of your bridesmaids if you really want me to ..." "I DO!" she stated in a way that left no doubt about how she felt. "I don't think you're supposed to say that till the ceremony ..." And I couldn't speak any more because Natalie had put her arms around me in a huge bear-hug. ***** The very next day I was back at school - not entirely because Natalie had cheered me up but also because that was the day we'd find out who had which parts for Kiss Me Kate. Once again, Mr. Nelson kept everyone in suspense, and it wasn't until late in the day that the list went up outside his office. When I got there I had to stand tippy-toe to see past all the heads in the way, and there was my name - next to the name of Lilli Vanessi's assistant, Suzanne. My initial reaction was huge disappointment - that wasn't a singing OR dancing role, and you could barely even call it a role! But as I'd figured, Kath's name was alongside Lilli Vanessi, who plays the 'shrew' Katherine, and that cheered me a little. Cindy ended up getting the part of the sexy young actress Lois Lane, who plays Bianca (the role I'd hoped for) - but it was hard to feel too badly about that, because Cindy was a talented, attractive girl and she deserved that part at least as much as I wanted it. Then, as I got closer, I spotted my name again near the bottom - I would be understudying the roles of Bianca AND Lilli. That meant there was a chance I'd get to do one or two shows as one of the lead characters! But it also meant I'd be bumping Kath or Cindy for those performances, which didn't sit well with me. You could say I was very conflicted! And for the plum role of Fred, who plays Petruchio, there was the name Michael Bell, a junior who was new that year to our drama program. That really puzzled me - somehow I couldn't picture Michael as an over-the-top macho type. He was about six feet, okay looking and not the least bit skinny, so physically he was good for the part, but he seemed a bit prissy - not exactly like he was gay, but definitely not a Howard Keel type ... or for that matter a Rob Hewitt type (the kind of take-charge guy I imagined Petruchio to be). Scanning the rest of the names, I saw Jordan Harris as Baptista, Katherine and Bianca's father; Doug Peterson as the cad Bill, who plays Lucentio; newcomer Ken Russell as Harrison Howell the general; and good old Paul DaSilva as the head gangster, with Adam Chiang as his gangster sidekick. That last one took me off guard - an Asian kid as a 1940's New York thug? Would he be able to pull off the tough-guy attitude and the Bronx accent? I had no doubts that Paul could do it, though. There were several more names of kids that had ensemble roles, but once again I was the only understudy. Strange! Rehearsals were going to be very interesting, I thought - and even though I was still in the depths of despair over Mark, my eagerness to perform on stage outweighed any of that. Kath caught up to me as I descended the front steps of the school. I'd hoped to sneak out and get home on my own, but no such luck. "Sandy, what's up? You're avoiding me!" "No I'm not ... well okay, maybe I am. I haven't been feeling too well ..." "So you told me. But something else's wrong, isn't it?" "Nothing's wrong, Kath - I'm fine." "Is it the play? You never got the part you wanted, is that it? Is it because I did? Sandy, I'm sorry, but I didn't decide who ..." I interrupted her. "No, it's got nothing to do with the play. If you must know, it's Mark." "What about Mark? Did he say something that hurt you?" "No ... he DID something. Remember his ex-girlfriend I told you about? They're, like, dating again ..." "Aw shit, Sandy - that's terrible. Is that why you were so sick the last few days? I wouldn't blame you ..." "Yeah, that's why." "Hmm," Kath mused, "they say guys rebound from things really fast - like breakups, losing their wife ..." We walked silently for a minute, then I said out loud, "What the hell," and I began telling Kath the whole sad story of how I went to Mark's house to beg his forgiveness, got the wind taken completely out of my sails, and turned into a recluse for six days. She listened intently as we walked and didn't say a word - unusual for Kath! And as I talked, I could feel the weight of my problems noticeably lighten. Was this an example of how females give support to one another, I wondered? They say sharing like that doesn't come easily for guys, and that's probably why I wasn't very eager to start. But it felt so wonderful to have a close friend to share my pain with ... one who wasn't the slightest bit judgmental, even though I knew I deserved to be judged harshly. When I got to the part about being a slob around the house, Kath stopped me and put her arms around me in a big, tight hug. "What's this for?" I asked, even though it felt totally wonderful. "Sandy - how long have we known each other? Like, maybe fifteen years? You've always been an insane neat freak, so if all of a sudden you've turned into a slob, you MUST be in serious distress. You need a hug in the WORST way!" That comment completely broke me up! I didn't think I'd ever be able to laugh again, but she made me do it right there, with her arms still wrapped around me. "Kath, I love you SO MUCH," I told her as my tears of laughter turned into emotional tears. "I love you too, sweetheart," she replied, and she planted a kiss right on my lips - for maybe the fourth time ever. "So how's dance going?" I asked when we resumed our walk. Kath had tried to talk me into re-joining the winter modern dance class, but I wasn't in the mood after you-know-what happened. "Not as much fun without you there," she replied. "You can still come, Sandy - you've only missed the first two." "I'd kind of like to, but you know, I have to work ..." "We already talked about that. You said you could change your schedule." "I dunno ... it's expensive ..." "Sandy, give your head a shake, will you? You're gonna have to play Kate ... and Bianca too. You've gotta be able to dance. C'mon, I'll even sign you up and pay for you if you can't afford it. Please?" "Kath, get real - you can't afford to pay for BOTH of us. I'll think about it, okay?" "Okay, but don't think too long. You'll miss your chance." ***** Mom took me out for dinner that evening. For a while she'd been saying there were a lot of things we needed to talk about, and that no longer seemed like such a big deal after my experience with Kath that day. She'd made a reservation at a classy restaurant, so I was obliged to fix my hair and face up and put on something nice for the occasion - a navy blue sweater dress with a scooped neckline and elbow-length sleeves that I'd bought on Black Friday after Thanksgiving. I was just finishing drying the matching blue polish on my nails when Mom called upstairs, "Time to go, Sandra!" As two ladies, we got the full treatment at the restaurant - complimentary valet parking, doors held open for us, our coats taken, and our chairs held as we sat. 'This is the kind of stuff Natalie was talking about,' I thought. 'She's right - I can't imagine ever giving this up.' The restaurant even provided us with platinum-colored purse hooks that attached to the edge of our table. After we placed our drink orders, Mom asked me how I was doing, as I knew she would. "Okay, I guess. It's been really hard lately ... I thought I could get back with Mark, but ... but it's really over. He's dating his old girlfriend now." "Oh, Sandra - I'm so sorry ... I knew it must be something like that, the way you were behaving. It must hurt very badly." "It's all right, Mom. I should never have gotten my hopes up like I did. But that's the way it is, and there's nothing I can do about it now, so I've decided to just move on with my life." "I suppose that's the wise thing to do, honey. I know how this must sound, but you ARE only seventeen ..." "I know, I know - I've got my whole life ahead of me. You don't have to tell me that, Mom." "I'm sorry ... but it IS true ..." Our drinks arrived and the waiter, who was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and tie, asked us if we had any questions about the menu. "We haven't even looked at it yet," Mom told him. I think he took that as a hint that we didn't want to be rushed, because he didn't come back for quite a while. In the meantime we talked about the upcoming wedding, and I got to announce that I'd been asked to be a bridesmaid. "Oh, Sandra, that's wonderful!" Mom gushed. She seemed genuinely surprised by that news. "Are you going to do it?" "Of course, Mom. I thought about it, and it's the best way I can think of to be a part of the wedding. Should be fun." "I should say! I was only a bridesmaid once - Dad had a friend on the base who got married in a military ceremony, and they needed someone to stand up for the bride. We didn't have much money, but Dad let me buy myself a new dress ... it was so nice. I have a picture of it somewhere ..." "That sounds amazing, Mom," I said. Actually what I was amazed about was how she needed her husband's permission to buy a new dress, but I didn't want it to sound that way. 'Times have changed,' I thought - or at least hoped. "Well, I hope Natalie picks some nice bridesmaid dresses - I've seen some awful designs lately." "That's so true," I laughed. "Don't worry - she promised she would, to get me to say yes." Mom picked up on that. "You didn't want to?" "Not at first - I thought maybe she felt obliged, you know? Like, what else do you do when the groom's brother likes wearing dresses? But I don't think that was it ..." "Natalie wouldn't ask you if she didn't genuinely want you in the wedding party - as her bridesmaid, I mean." "Yeah, I think you're right. So I'm going to do it, and she wants me to help her shop for her gown too." Mom was shaking her head at that news. "You must be very special to her. Usually it's just her mother and the maid of honor, maybe an aunt too." We noticed our waiter hovering nearby, so we opened our menus and spent some time chatting about what looked good, and not overly expensive. I must say, the prices at Milestones were a fraction of these ones! But the entr?e descriptions sounded a lot better - especially the filet mignon, which sounded too good to pass up, even for thirty-eight dollars. Mom chose the rack of lamb, and when we'd placed our orders we went back to our conversation. I asked Mom about the progress, or lack of progress, of the legal tussle she was in with the Blacklocks over her dad's will. She told me her lawyer was dealing with their lawyer, and nothing much was happening at the moment. "How much money do you think you're getting?" I asked. "I mean, how much COULD you get?" "Why," Mom laughed, "do you need some?" "NO," I replied emphatically. "That's not what I meant. It's YOUR money - I just hope you get enough to retire on." "Honey, I'm not that old yet!" she laughed again. Then her face took on a more serious look. "Well, the lawyer told me my father's estate is worth between five and six million, not including the house. So if his wife gets the house, that leaves at least a million each for his children and his first wife - but she might not get that much, since they've been divorced for so long. She's getting something, though." "Wow," I breathed, "that's a lot ... aren't you excited?" "I am and I'm not ... I don't want to count on it, that's all. I might lose, you know." "I don't think so," I stated as confidently as I could with my feminine voice. "You have what's right on your side." "Honey, life doesn't always work that way," she smiled, shaking her head. We were interrupted at that moment by the arrival of our food. 'Don't I know it,' I thought. Mom used the interruption to change the subject. "So, how are you doing with your hormones?" I hadn't expected that question! "Uh, not bad I guess - why do you ask?" "I've noticed how your moods seem to correspond with your injection schedule." Mom never missed much when it came to her kids! "Yeah, I guess they kind of do ... I noticed that last fall. I always seemed to get into arguments with Mark right after my injections." "Is that one of the reasons for your breakup?" "Yeah, it might be ... Doctor Cooper warned me about that - she said I might have my very own PMS issues. She was right, I guess ... Mom, have I been hard to get along with at home?" "Sometimes," she answered. "You certainly haven't always been as cooperative as I'm used to. But I've heard that a lot of teenage girls get like that with their mothers." "I'm sorry, Mom. I'll try harder to be a good daughter for you." Mom laughed, "Oh, you're not at all like some of the girls I hear about. I've always been very thankful for the kind of child you've been. But I also want to know ... you know, how the hormones are affecting your body?" Did I really have to answer that question? Oh well ... "Uh, I didn't really think they were doing anything at first - except causing mood swings. But I did notice my bras were getting tighter? And my pants too. I thought maybe I was just putting on weight? But then Doctor Cooper measured me and it was only in my bust and hips ... so I guess they ARE having an effect after all." "I thought so too. Sandra, your body is becoming very, uh ... feminine. I'm sure you know that. I can't even imagine you as a boy anymore." "That's good," I laughed. "I'm supposed to be your daughter now." "Yes, you are ... and I wouldn't have it any other way. I'll admit, I love having my very own daughter at last. And you make such a perfect girl, so much more than most girls seem to ..." "That's 'cause I like nice clothes and makeup, Mom," I smiled. "It's a lot more than just clothes and makeup," she corrected me. "It's what's inside ... I'm sure you were always meant to be a girl, you just weren't born that way." I couldn't respond for a few seconds. "Mom ... that was a really nice thing for you to say. I've felt like that sometimes too. But you know me - I care a lot about how I look on the outside? Maybe not so much for the past few days, but I think I'm getting over that now." "That's good - I like having my regular daughter back. Is there anything I can do?" "Uh, not really ... or maybe there is. Like, could you take me back to that lingerie shop? I need to buy some new bras - some bigger ones? Maybe some other things too. What was the name of that saleslady?" "I think it was Marianne. And I'd love to take you bra shopping -- I could use some new ones myself. But that's an expensive place, you know ..." "Yeah, I know - but I kind of like the service there? She was really nice, and she seemed to care a lot about making sure your bras fit right? The other stores I've shopped at kind of leave you to figure things out for yourself." Mom was smiling while I gave her my explanation, and I wondered whether she found it amusing to hear her son say those kinds of things, or whether she was genuinely enjoying being able to engage in girl-talk with her new daughter. "I know exactly what you mean, honey," she said, and from that I had to conclude it was the latter. The rest of the meal went really well. And for the first time, I began to feel that Mom and I were moving on from our parent-child relationship and more in the direction of a friendship between two adult women. ***** The most amazing thing happened at work that week. I got invited to a girls' sleepover at Hannah's place. Chelsea told me that Hannah had pajama parties every few months - they'd rent some really chick-friendly movies, put on their favorite pajamas or nighties, depending on the season, and consume popcorn, chips and soda pop while they watched sappy films and shared boyfriend gossip all night long. Some of the other waitresses usually went, but they were inside Hannah's circle of friends. So I asked Chelsea why she thought I got invited. "When you were off sick, we all kinda knew it was because of Mark," she replied. "And when you said he was going out with his ex again, that did it. So congratulations, y'all are one of the 'in' crowd now - do y'know what I mean?" "I think so - because the breakup was so hard on me, and he bounced back so fast?" "You got it, little sister. All the girls here can relate to that painful story." "But it was really my fault, not his," I reminded her (I'd already admitted to flirting with another guy, and being generally difficult). "Honey, we've all been through that, some more than a few times. That just makes you one of the girls that've been there an' done that. And they tend to look after whoever just went through it. But I need to warn y'all - they'll want all the gory details." "Like, everything? The sex too?" "Everything - 'specially the sex! But don't worry, honey - y'all are gonna feel a lot better after the party." But it was a girls-only party! I couldn't begin to imagine the shit that would fly if Hannah and her friends found out they'd invited a guy to her event. "Oh I dunno, Chelsea - I'm not exactly who they think I am ..." "So what?" She lowered her voice so no one nearby would be able to overhear. "Honey, you've been working with us all for what, five months now? As far as everyone knows, you're a sweetheart of a girl who deserves a little cheering up. Y'all need to let them do that for you." I didn't feel like arguing the point, but there was something else that needed to be said. "Chelsea ... I don't know how to say this, but ... but I just want to thank you for keeping my secret to yourself. You didn't have to do that ..." She stepped closer so our faces were nearly touching. "'Course I had to do that, honey. Who you are behind closed doors is your own business - nobody else's. An' I never blab about other people's private affairs - that just wouldn't be right." I couldn't stop myself from giving her a hug, and I couldn't stop my tears either. After a quick trip to the ladies' room to repair my eye makeup, I went back to work feeling much better about my situation. Maybe girls can rebound from a breakup too, I thought optimistically. They just need a little help from their friends. ***** The following Monday we had our first read-through of the 'Kiss Me Kate' script. The stage musical was a little different from the movie Kath and I had watched, although, unfortunately, one thing was the same - the number of lines I got to speak. But I had to admit, Kath and Cindy would be ideal for their roles, if the way they spoke them was any indication. What was surprising was how Michael read his lines. He could actually sound appropriately bombastic, and I thought his prissy nature added just the right amount of campiness to Petruchio's lines. But I'd never heard him sing, so the jury was still out on whether he'd actually be a success in the role. The others did well too, and once again I had to admit that our directors knew their stuff when it came to casting. But I was still disappointed that I didn't get a real part in the production. Mr. Nelson must have known how I'd feel about that, because he asked me to stay behind to see him after drama class ended that day. "Sandy," he began after everyone else had left the room, "I just want you to know how much I appreciate your hard work in this class. You're one of my favorite students and I'm going to miss you after graduation." "Thank you sir," I responded, not sure where this was going. "It's been a real treat for me to see you develop as a performer," he continued, "but also in other ways, if you know what I'm getting at." "I think so," I said, feeling a bit nervous. "I'll never forget how effortlessly you stepped into that girl's role last year. I remember thinking, 'That's the mark of a true actor - being able to play the opposite sex, convincingly.' And you really pulled out all the stops, didn't you?" "I tried ..." He was right - short of getting a sex change, I got as close to being a girl for the part as I dared. "You didn't just try, you succeeded. I was very impressed, and so was everyone else. You know, Sandy, when I start looking at musicals for the upcoming year, my challenge is always to match the show to the talents of the people I have available. It's never easy to find something that allows every drama student the opportunity to showcase their abilities, and they only get one or two chances in high school." I nodded my understanding and agreement with that statement. But where, I wondered, was he going with this? Was it to make me feel better about getting a lousy break? "This year I had two talented female seniors and several talented males," he continued, "so Kiss Me Kate was the ideal show for that mix. But I also had one very talented individual who's somewhere in between the two sexes. What could I offer that person? Well, he - or should I now say she - just wouldn't be believable in a male role. The same problem we had last year. Not only that, but this time I have a lot of talented boys looking for good parts. But only two good female parts. I felt that I had to offer those two roles to the girls who were right for them. "I understand," I said, as I began to feel depressed all over again. But Mr. Nelson wasn't finished. "What could I offer Sandy Johnson? Well, we needed someone for Suzanne, so that was easy. But not a good showcase for her abilities. So I decided to have you understudy both of the female leads - in reality I've double-cast their parts. You'll substitute for each of them at least twice. It'll be a real challenge for you, Sandy, but I know you can pull it off." I wasn't convinced, though. "But Mr. Nelson, I don't think that's fair to Kath and Cindy. They'd have to give up those shows for me." "I've already discussed this with them, and they both told me they're more than happy to do that. I also got permission from Mr. Marshall to add an extra performance this year, so they may not be giving up much at all. Besides, those two roles are critical to the success of the show, and we need talented backup in case of illness. You're the only one capable of doing either part, Sandy." Well, since he put it THAT way ... I'll admit, the opportunity to play both of those plum female roles on stage, and sing literally ALL the female songs, was way too good to pass up. I began to warm to the idea ... or should I say get hot to trot! But I had one more question. "So who plays Suzanne when I'm doing the other parts?" "Kathleen or Cindy will play Suzanne in those shows," he answered as though he was talking to a dummy. Silly me - I should have thought of that! By then I was at least fifteen minutes late for my next class, so Mr. Nelson accompanied me there and made apologies for me. But not before I thanked him profusely for his faith in me and for giving me such a great chance to show the world what I could do on stage. I barely paid attention to what the history teacher was saying for the next hour, I was so excited. And I thought long and hard about what Mr. Nelson had told me, from every possible angle. He obviously liked me and wanted to give me as much of a 'big break' as he could. But it seemed to me there was more to it than that. I recalled how Kath had shared her opinion of him - that he was maybe a bit on the 'gay' side - but he had a wife and family, so it could only be just a bit. If true, though, that might help explain why he encouraged my cross-dressing on stage by giving me those parts. And unlike the previous year, when I played the plain-jane character Hodel, this year I'd appear as Bianca, a sexy, sultry showgirl who wears some pretty racy outfits, dances, and sings some fabulous come- hither songs. And also Lilli, the male lead's ex-wife, who wears some classy 1940's dresses, sings memorable romantic songs, and exerts a huge stage presence as her alternate character Katherine, the 'shrew' who refuses to consider marriage. 'So Kath could be right,' I thought. 'Maybe Mr. Nelson really wants to see me transform into a sexy female. Maybe that's how he gets his jollies. But I don't care - I'm getting what I want, so why shouldn't he get what he wants, too?' Just then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I have to dance! 'Oh my God,' I thought, 'I've gotta sign myself up for those classes before it's too late!' ***** After closing time the following Saturday night, my co-worker Sheila and I quickly cleaned up and drove in her car to Hannah's rented house on the east side of the city. It wasn't in a particularly tony neighborhood, but like Hannah said, it's what she and her two room-mates could afford. I thought it looked just fine. The house was a squat brick bungalow and with every light in and around the place blazing, it was easy to locate. As we walked through the front door, a half dozen squealing female voices and at least that many hugs greeted the two of us. Every square inch of the small living room, and the furniture, was covered with blankets, comforters and sleeping bags of all colors and patterns, and after introductions we were ordered to dump our coats in one of the bedrooms and change into our 'jammies.' Sheila changed in the bedroom and I wisely opted for the privacy of the bathroom to get undressed and slip on my favorite white satin nightie. And yes, I was extra careful to keep my gaff securely in place and hidden by a matching pair of satin panties that offered extra coverage. The coolest thing was, by then my breasts had grown enough that I didn't need any artificial padding to make them look convincing. And I loved how they sat so perfectly in the soft lacy cups of the nightie! On that night I wanted more than anything to believe that I was as much a girl as any of the others, and that's why I picked such a feminine garment instead of the flannel pajamas most of the girls had on - - which I didn't own anyway! "Aren't you cold in that thing?" asked Bonnie, one of Hannah's room-mates. "Brrr," said another. "I'll be all right," I smiled. "I brought a quilt to wrap around myself if it gets chilly. Seems pretty warm right now." "You must have a higher metabolism than the rest of us," commented Bonnie, and I realized that she could be right - guys usually did! So I promised myself on the spot that I'd think before saying anything else incriminating. Sheila and I, having had to stay at work till Milestones closed, were a couple of hours behind the arrival of most of the girls, and they'd paused the first movie, 'Four Weddings and a Funeral', while we got ourselves settled in. I hadn't seen that one yet, and there was only maybe ten minutes left, but it was still fun joining in with the others as they ogled and swooned over Hugh Grant. "What are those marks on the TV screen?" I asked Bonnie, who was lying next to me. "Lipstick," she giggled. "We were taking turns kissing him - guess we didn't get it all off." That sounded like one of the funniest concepts I'd ever heard of. And I began giggling too. "So when do I get to kiss him?" "Here," Bonnie said helpfully as she handed me a tube of bright red lipstick. "Go for it!" So I did my best to get even coverage without the benefit of a mirror, and waited patiently for my opportunity while Sheila got her lips all set. I didn't have to wait long - the director obviously knew his audience 'cause dreamy Hugh seemed to be more onscreen than off, and he got major close-up face time too. I scurried over to the TV on my knees and put my painted lips right up to the screen, then zeroed in on Hugh's mouth. A moment later I stepped back and for an instant he had bright red lips just like mine! The other girls were killing themselves laughing and giggling. "That wasn't much of a kiss, Sandy," kidded a girl named Emily. "Says the girl who was trying to French-kiss the TV set," yelled Angie, one of the girls from work. That comment got everyone going, and in no time most of us had mascara tears running down our faces. Sheila, who after my experience must have thought an extended kiss was the more acceptable way to go, lingered a bit too long and found herself mouth-to-mouth with Andie McDowell. "I always thought you were a closet lesbian," called Hannah's other room- mate Kellie, and everyone howled in delight at that dig. If this was how a bunch of girls spend an evening, I thought, count me in! I don't know how anyone saw the rest of the film, we were all carrying on so insanely. But soon the credits were rolling and Hannah pulled the video from the DVD player. "Drinks and goodies are in the kitchen," she informed us latecomers. "You have to help yourselves." I was pretty hungry and thirsty after a busy shift without two spare minutes for a bite or drink of anything, so I dove right into the chips, salsa and guacamole, then looked around for a soda. There was a pitcher of what looked like dark red punch or something, with a lot of cut-up fruit and ice in it, so I grabbed a big tall glass and filled it full, then took a long deep sip. It tasted wonderful but a little strange, and I quickly realized it had a lot of alcohol in it. "What IS this?" I asked Kellie. "Sangria," she replied matter-of-factly. "Haven't you had it before? It's just red wine and fruit, with ice." "It's great," I said, trying to sound more refined than I was. I suspected the others were all of drinking age, or close to it. But not me! Anyway, I'd poured myself a big glass of sangria and there's no way I could get away with pouring it back in the pitcher or down the drain, so I ended up drinking the whole thing. Big mistake! I think it hit me after I got back to the living room. About the same time Hannah announced to everyone that Sandra, or Sandy as her friends called her, had been recently dumped by her boyfriend for his ex-girlfriend. There was a chorus of sympathetic sighs from the other girls. She then draped a fake Hawaiian flower lei around my neck and told me I needed to keep it on for the rest of the night, so that everyone, no matter how drunk they got, would remember I needed lots of hugs and kisses. And she delivered the first hug after cheek-kissing me on both sides. 'That's not so bad,' I thought. But when she let me go I nearly toppled over, I felt so woozy. So I tried to get back onto my quilt, but the other girls all lined up to deliver their own hugs and kisses, and in no time at all I'd received a dozen kisses all over my face and even on my lips. I tried thanking each one by name but I'm sure I got them all mixed up. And if the room felt warm before, it was positively hot now! Hannah plugged in 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' (which Kath and I had seen a few times before) and while the first half-hour or so rolled by I lay sprawled on my quilt with my legs apart in a most un-ladylike way, eavesdropping on the animated conversations of the girls nearest me. Most of the talk seemed to be about relationships - with other girls, mostly, but some strayed into boyfriend territory and I was kind of surprised at how openly they shared everything about their men, warts and all. If one girl's boyfriend happened to have some trait that was less than ideal, the others would chip in with whatever was wrong with theirs - maybe to make the first girl feel like she wasn't alone in her misery, was my guess. There was even some one-upmanship involved - if one girl said she couldn't stand how her guy always left the toilet seat up, another would say something like "That's nothing! Like, Chad doesn't even flush!" But there wasn't much talk about sex, despite Chelsea's heads-up, which, oddly, relieved and disappointed me all at the same time. After a while I started feeling more normal, so of course I made my second miscalculation and decided I could handle more of that tasty sangria! After the second glass things definitely got more interesting. Now, Breakfast at Tiffany's wasn't what you'd call a comedy, and George Peppard wasn't exactly Hugh Grant, but Audrey Hepburn was apparently everyone's idea of the perfect woman with the perfect face and perfectly thin body, and the music was appropriately perfect for tugging at your heartstrings, especially when they're fragile and marinated in red wine. And whenever the theme song came on, I mean the instrumental version of it, I couldn't stop myself from filling in the lyrics. "Moon River, wider than a mile," I crooned at the top of my lungs with tears streaming down my cheeks, "I'm crossing you in style, some day ..." After the second or third instance, Hannah said, "Sandra darling - you've got such a beautiful voice! Where'd you learn to sing like that?" "In the movies!" I replied, singing those words too. And I wasn't lying - all those hours spent with Kath in her basement with her parents' old movie collection weren't wasted after all! "Aren't old movies the best?" "And you know all the words too! Hey -- now we know who can lead singing Happy Birthday at work!" Even though I was kind of drunk, I knew then I'd stuck my foot in it. The one thing I'd avoided doing at Milestones was telling anyone I liked to sing, and for that very reason! I always felt there was nothing worse than having all the tone-deaf wait staff in a restaurant sing Happy Birthday off-key to some poor sucker who made the mistake of agreeing to go out to celebrate their big day, probably 'cause nobody thought they were worth making a nice dinner and a cake for at home. Of course, that'd happened to me in Disneyland, and I'd been tricked into going out to Milestones, but that shouldn't count, should it? So what to do now that my secret was out? I mean, not THAT secret, just the other big one. Well, have another glass of sangria of course. And that's exactly what I did, and after running the gauntlet of more hugs and kisses, draining the last of what was in the pitcher, and half-crawling back to my beloved quilt, I just sat there in my lacy little satin nightie and lei with a pile of Kleenexes, all teary and bleary-eyed, letting the movie's emotional punch have its way with me. All I really remember was how deliciously empty that movie made me feel - like there was this huge vacuum in desperate need of someone to fill it - someone of my very own to love and care for. "Erica," I said aloud more than once, which must have made the other girls wonder if I was losing it. I was wondering the same thing! But it wasn't Erica I pined for, it was her wonderful situation. They told me I crashed and slept for an hour or so, and when I opened my eyes there was Julia Roberts on the screen, wearing a bright red dress and a diamond necklace. 'Oh shit,' I thought, 'don't tell me it's - oh crap, it HAD to be 'Pretty Woman'. That's all I need.' I recalled thinking how Erica's situation was a lot like Vivian's (the girl played by Roberts). Okay, maybe Erica wasn't exactly a call girl, but she looked a bit like her and was every bit as tall too. The main similarities were obvious - they were both beautiful, kept women - lovers of wealthy, powerful men ... trophy wives, for sure. Except Vivian insisted on keeping her own identity and becoming an equal partner with her man - something he called 'impossible' but went along with in the happy ending. That was more along the lines of what I hoped for, but while watching the rest of the movie I found myself willing to settle for anything remotely like Vivian's or Erica's life, just as long as I could have the love and security a man could provide me with. Oh, and lots of pretty clothes, thank you very much. That concept seemed to resonate with many of the other girls, too, if some of the comments were any indication. Could it be, I wondered later, that women are wired in such a way that they feel the need to be looked after by a man? The male side of me, or what was left of it by then, suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for the men of the world, if that was really the case. They say your basic nature is revealed by consuming alcohol. If that's so, it means I must be an emotional basket case inside! Or maybe that's just the state I was in that winter night, so soon after going through a heart- wrenching breakup and having all those competing, complex relationships and opportunities placed before me as if they were a smorgasbord I was supposed to pick and choose from, but choose wisely or else! Or it could've just been the dose of female hormones I got a couple of days beforehand. But Chelsea had been right - I DID feel better after the party, if you forget the hangover. All I know is how much I loved being a girl who was accepted as one by those real genetic girls that night. And if a truckload of emotional baggage came as part of the bargain, so be it. I could learn to live with and even like my fragile nature, since it was now an inseparable part of me. But my rebound could never be complete until I was safely back in love again. To be continued ....