A Change Of Life... Part 5 free porn video

A Change of Life, Part 5........... The next day, I flew into panic mode, as I thought that James was cooling on our "business arrangement." He seemed to have felt he had gotten in too deep, in making us three white males into black females. As much as I agreed and I hated seeing my sons presented as black girls, at this point, I COULD NOT lose James. James had passed me another big wad of cash last night, which was essential for covering some bills. Unfortunately, I "needed" my sugar-daddy. I had every intention of visiting James that night and begging - no, pleading - with him to allow us to continue as his pretend black women. As much as Ryan, especially, may hate being Tanisha, we had to put food on the table. That day, at work, I was more and more zoned out, mostly from all of the drama that had been going on, and my confusion over my new role. At times, I also felt "overwhelmed" by sudden "bursts" of heat that seemed suddenly inflicted on my brain, my chest area, and my genitalia. I had no idea why I was feeling this way, but I was experiencing some strange new sensations I had never felt before.... Perhaps it was just a part of the natural male aging process of which I was unfamiliar.... Anyway, I dozed off at work, absent-mindedly running a metal part through a machine. I was daydreaming about what I would say to James. After using his last payment for my necessary expenses, I had 500$ in my pocket, which was nice, but wouldn't last..... My boss, Mr. Davidson, snapped me out of my thoughts... "Miller," he shouted, "get in my office !!!" I meekly followed him like a lost puppy and sat down. "Miller," he said, "This conversation has been long overdue. From now on, you are being put "on notice." You've been constantly showing up late and leaving early with pathetic excuses, and half the time you are here, you walk around in a daze." "Sorry boss," I whispererd, "I, I'll, I'll try harder...." "Well you had better," he said. "If you don't shape up and start being productive, I'll have to let you go." However, it was then I realized that my factory job really only paid a small pittance compared to what I received from James as "LaShaunda," and that I really got such infrequent hours here anyway as to almost make it not worth my while. I began to realize that the priorities of my time really needed to be convincing James to keep me around. As Mr. Davidson was lecturing me, however, the song "Proud Mary" was playing on the Oldies Station on his small office radio... I heard the lyrics sung by the bursting black female singer, "Left a good job in da city, workin' for da man every night and day..." Hearing these rhythms of independence inspired and infused me with new life and new feelings of self-worth with my new persona... With a sudden burst of new confidence, perhaps also inspired by my "success" as LaShaunda, I suddenly stood up, almost snapping my fingers at Mr. Davidson.... "Wha you mean I be dazin'??" I exclaimed. "I shows up here eery day, rain or shine..." My boss was startled by my sudden display of assertiveness. Perhaps my lessons as LaShaunda were starting to carry over to my male persona. "Uh, yeah," said Davidson, "You are right, you do have perfect attendance over the last 6 years. Well, get back to work, I suppose." "Mmm, mmm," I stated as I exited. Anyway, I had already made up my mind that I had one last chance to "win James over" and continue to be retained for his services. I had decided to head home early and get myself completely dolled up as LaShaunda for when I visited James that evening. So I popped off a poor excuse about Ryan being sick at school, and I cruised home at 12:30 PM. When I got home, I went into my bedroom and covered myself with some of the tanning creame James had left. I got on my prosthetic genitalia, and then a pair of black bra and panties. Dressing and preparing as LaShaunda was now feeling very natural. I wore black pantyhose and a black dress that ended mid-thigh. Getting my tanning cream on and dry took an hour, and after my prosthetics, I only had a few minutes to make myself up before my boys came home. Using the copious lessons and my new products, I expertly made my face up, and then crowned myself with my LaShaunda wig. Soon, I was ready again to be a black woman.... I hoped that James seeing me as LaShaunda would satisfy him of my conviction to continue in his service. Also, I was seriously hoping to dress in a way that actually "inspired" some other thoughts in him, as I felt that he did have a latent and secret attraction to me. If I could bring that out, it would quite honestly win him over. I had no intention of actually being his girlfriend or lover, of course, as I was a straight guy, but I wanted to milk this thing (not his thing) as long as possible and get him to keep dropping large sums of cash my way. As I was attaching my earrings, spritzing my perfume, and donning my gold necklace, I heard my boys enter the house after a long day of school. My heels clicked across the kitchen as I went to greet them. "DAD," exclaimed Ryan. "Why are you dressed as LaShaunda again??" His feminizing vocal spray had worn off. "O, nufin honey," I said to him, "I just have to go talk to James tonight about something important." "You sure do seem to hang around him a lot," said Ryan, "What, are you guys dating?" "Its something very important, for business." Ryan and Tommy went up to their rooms to start their homework. Before I left, I went to say hi to Tommy and just check in on him, and have a heart-to-heart. As I got up there, Tommy had changed into the leotard and tights outfit that Ryan had worn yesterday, with the white polka- dots and the attached skirt, with white tights. He was practicing some dance moves from the "Soul Sista's" that Cha'relle had taught him. "Hey son," I said tentatively, not now wondering if "Hey sweetie" would be better. "Hi mom," said Tommy. "He did not even react to the fact I was dressed as a black woman." "I just wanted to check on you and see how you were doing?" "Great dad, I talked to Tylera last night, the little black girl on the phone, from the mall. We actually made plans to go to the Lil'Romeo concert together coming up. Her parents agreed to take us, and they said Tanisha was invited too..." "You mean Ryan?" "Yeah sure dad," Tommy said with verve, "I'm really looking forward to it, anyway. There are supposed to be lots of cute guys coming with us to the concert too." "Are you sure you want to go, son," I asked him? "I mean, James won't pay you for it or anything?" "Tylera and I be friends," said Tommy, "and she know me as Ashanti. And we bought all these clothes, so why not?" "Well, I guess I can't stop you. I'm just nervous about it being chaperoned, you know, if there are going to be lots of kids there." Truth be told, I was a bit petrified about Tommy, or Ryan for that matter being "unsupervised" with a teenaged black boy. God knows what one of them would be thinking. I also quickly thought about how James had tried to quickly manipulate Ryan in to wanting to go to the rap concert, and how Ryan had cringed away, possibly at the thought of having to be around other black boys and girls, as their peer, for a long period of time. I really did not blame my son.... Anyway, Tommy kept going on..... "It be cool mom," said Tommy, "Tylera's parents be comin', and just 5 or 6 of her other friends too. Kind of a group thing." "Fine, ok," I said, "I'll have to talk to her parents first before I OK it." "Dat be sweet !!!" "Anyway," I said, "it looks like you still want to do the Soul Sista's too?" "Oh yea mom, Is really bein excited about it." "Well, James already said he'd pick us up on Thursday, so be ready to change and get made over after school." "I can' wait !!!" As I planted a kiss on Tommy's head and left his room, I was confronted by a burly and fuming Ryan in the hallway of our house, "Not now, not ever, am I dressing as Tanisha again," he told me. "Those days are OVER," and he slammed his foot. "I am a 100% WHITE boy, NOT a black girl, and you can forget about me dressing up for some sissy ballet class on Thursday. When you go to see your boyfriend tonight, tell him that he might not even bother coming over here." "I'm sorry you feel that way," I told him. "But I think James agreed he went too far, and he'll leave you alone from now on." "Good," stamped Ryan, and he stormed off, evident on resuming his old male life. A few minutes later, piles of brightly-colored clothes were being chucked indecorously from Ryan's room into the hallway, which were eagerly gathered up by Tommy and carried to the other bedroom. --------- I grabbed my purse and left the house, driving quickly through the garage, so my neighbors would not see the mysterious black woman driving Dave Miller's car. I pulled up at James's capacious house late that afternoon, and he greeted me expectantly... "Dave, er, LaShaunda," he said, totally startled to see me made up. He was expecting the white Dave Miller. "Hi there," I said, very sweetly, "so let's talk..." James went and turned on SportsCenter. Basketball highlights were on. James offered me a glass of water, which I declined. "I just want to be honest with you," I said, "I DON'T want to quit being LaShaunda, and Tommy has his heart set on being Ashanti. I think Ryan will come around too..." "I don't know," said James as he relaxed into his leather couch, "I just don't know." I felt my payday slipping away. "I really like doing this," I said, "and I don't want to stop. Also, quite honestly, I think this experience has made me a much stronger person. I even went into 'LaShaunda mode' today, when I told off my boss. I just had a sudden burst of confidence when my boss berated me." "You told your boss off???" "It was incredible," I said. "Ok, so I've been told that I'm on thin ice at the factory, just because I've been so flaky lately; but I quite honestly make almost minimum wage there anyway. So I just snapped and "got my swag on." I told Mr. Davidson he could stick it wher da sun don' shine. I even snapped my fingers...." "That's great," said James, "that means you are moving on, and the purpose for you being LaShaunda is done. Now, you can switch back to being a white guy permanently, and get on with your life." "But won't you still need me to keep up a show with your boss?" "I think we have convinced them," James said curtly. "Your boys can do the dance lesson on Thursday, and I'll pay them for that, and then that will be it." "But you know that Ashanti already has "plans" to go to the rap concert with another little girl she met at the mall, and Tanisha got invited too...." "Really," said James, "his eyes suddenly perked." "Listen," I said, "I'm just going to lay it all out on the table for you. I've been thinking so long and hard about this experience. I think that deep down, the Miller males are going nowhere. However, LaShaunda, THIS (I pointed at myself), is real. I have been a crossdresser my whole life. However, maybe I was meant to be a real woman too.... I never dreamed of such a variation as a black woman, for sure, but perhaps that could be my real destiny. I have felt so "alive" as LaShaunda. Even my pantyhose just feel perfect and so natural." I felt like I could cry. "Oh sweetie," said James, "Now I know I took things way too far. What have I done to you?" "Nothing, James, nothing....." "Listen," said James, "why don't you hang out here tonight and watch some baseball with me. I'll make dinner. You can stay as LaShaunda for one of the last times." "Okay," I said. James went and prepared two burgers with lettuce, cheese, and ketchup, while I just sat on his couch and zoned out and watched TV. I had failed. LaShaunda was over. I did not even feel an urge to go and "freshen up" or make sure my pantyhose were straight. I kicked my heeled feet up on his coffee table like a male slob. James came back and sat next to me with my meal, and two beers. "For a man's man," James toasted me confidently. "Tomorrow, you'll go back to being blue-collar, white male, and a red-neck." "James," I said suddenly, and with a deep inner passion, "I am a woman. Not a real one, but you have made me one." "Oh honey," he said as he rested one large hand on my pantyhosed leg, "You don't realize." "I do James, I do. In our ballet lesson, the dance we shared, was real. Do you remember that?" I looked into his eyes. I was desperate. However, as I stared into his large dark eyes, I realized I was developing a serious crush on this studly man. "Please," I said, "Let me be 'yours.'" "I'm not attracted to straight males," said James, abruptly. "I am not a MALE," I exclaimed... "I am a woman, the real, live black woman you created !!!" "Wow," said James, "I love your passion." Then, suddenly, he brought his big puckered lips towards my face. My male instinct felt I must recoil, but my passion as LaShaunda led me to "open up." I took his massive tounge in my mouth, and suddenly, we were locked in a heated embrace. I felt so warm and "right." I ran my hands over his face and his strong shoulders. As we made-out with our two pitch-black bodies, completely oblivious now to everything else, I took my pantyhosed legs and rubbed them against his crotch, directly targeting his powerful male member. "No, I am a male"... came one final protest from the recesses of my brain. However, it was too late, and James took control. I continued to stimulate his quickly turgid cock with the tighted underside of my knees. The thing swelled up to massive proportions, the dimensions of which I could now clearly discern. "Oh yes, keep doing what you are doing," stated James, and he guided my leg with one hand to keep encouraging me. As we clasped on the couch, he continued kissing me and ravishing me. He molested my plump, purple-painted lips; my thick, Negress lips. We grinded on each other like two dark jungle gorillas. "Oh James, you are such a man...." At this minute, something "clicked" inside my brain, and the same "sassiness" I had shown earlier with Mr. Davidson came out. My LaShaunda alter-ego suddenly began phrasing things "differently," almost in an urban patois. We "made out" for a few more minutes, totally unsure where this would lead. It was an unfamiliar situation for both of us, regarding how far we would go. Since I was really a man, and he was technically gay, there were no real "rules" for us. The deadlock had to be broken. "James," I said in my sweetest LaShaunda voice, "you's remember the dance lesson, when I fondled yo'," I said. "Well, let me finish dis for you now. Does you got any lotion?" "Yes," he said, panting but confident, "in the restroom vanity." All hot and bothered, I got up, straightened my dress, and practically sprinted for the lotion. I knew exactly what I was going to do for this man I cared about so much. I was going to make him mine.... Quickly, I returned, and I kneeled down at James's feet as he lounged on the couch, clearly worked up. He continued rubbing himself. I reached up and unzipped his fly with my painted hands, and I pulled down his trousers to reveal a very large package inside of tiger-print underwear. I pulled down his briefs to finally show the big prize.... His male organ was a proud, veiny, black-purplish pole that would have utterly put my shriveled thimble to shame (however, I was also growing extremely aroused and hard inside my vaginal area with the thought of what I was to do.....) I began gingerly touching his penis. It was the first time I had ever touched another man's organ. James was so proud and swollen up. He was so incredibly big, and thick and girthy, almost like a can of Pringles. It was amazing. He moaned pleasure. I squirted some lotion on his dark, veinous shaft and began stroking up-and-down with my brown hand, going harder and harder. His penis got even bigger and more erect. My own penis, too, was feeling extremely turgid in my pantyhose, and I quite honestly felt I was in serious danger of exploding before I even finished with James. This was such an exciting experience for me. "Oh James," I said, "is be so glad to be doin' dis for you. No matter what happen, dis be a little gift, fo' all of the great experiences you have given me and my girls. Even Tanisha really had a great time hanging out with you." "Oh thank you, my dear," said James. "I DO have feelings for you too, LaShaunda." That was just what I wanted to hear as I expertly worked his shaft, pounding him up and down from the base to his head. I worked every inch of him, squeezing and groping so hard. I massaged him, gripping and releasing with all the strength in my tiny hand. I paid extra-special attention to the very soft and sensitive underside and sides of his penis. He began to quiver, shake and sweat more and more, and he stopped talking. Doing this, I was also feeling more aroused than I had ever felt at any time in my life, even more so than when I had sex with my ex-wife, Christine. If not for my fake vaginal design, my penis would have completely sprouted inside my pantyhose and stuck itself to my black belly. Doing this for James, I also felt even more empowered, as I felt the dynamic totally shift back to my control, thanks to my ablity to take charge and satisfy him like this. Perhaps this is the way that women came to dominate relationships, by taking charge in the bedroom?? I felt the "balance of power" shift back to me, as James was putty in my hands. I felt James seriously begin to shake and throb. I worked him harder and harder, smoothly running my lotioned hands up and down his organ. I knew what was likely to come next. I had done this many times, to myself, when I was a younger boy, but how different it was to see it happen for another man besides myself !!! I braced myself, now trying hard to bring him to a climax. I enjoyed every tense second. The coming eruption was sure to be legendary. I felt one final throb, and then some serious spurts of white liquid shot out from his gun. Being so inexperienced, I was keeping my face very close to his penis, and his semen shot out all over my face and my pretty black dress. Without James realizing, he had covered me in a few seconds with his dripping baby-liquid. He had completely ruined my makeup. My tight black nylon dress was covered in white stains. "Oh no," I said. Now, I was covered in his "milk." As he "recovered" and shot back down to reality, James looked up and saw what he had done. "Oh no sweetie," he said to me, "I'm so sorry. It happens though. Listen, that was AMAZING !!! I have never felt like that in years." "I need to wash off," I cried. "Wait, honey," said James, "Yes, go freshen up in a second. Listen though, don't you worry about anything, anything at all. I understand now. Everything will be ok. I'll take care of you and your girls, no matter what..." James took a hand towel and began cleaning up the odd puddle. I went, washed off, and James laid out a clean pink dress for me, and tan pantyhose. I changed, touched up my hair, and freshened up my makeup. "Oh James," I said, "that was so wonderful. Thank you so much for sharing yo'rself wif me." "Oh LaShaunda," said James, a bit exhausted. The rest of that night we sat closely together on the couch, even cuddling-up a little bit. We did not engage in any more sexual activity, but just watched sports like two old friends. James was such a gentleman, and he brought me drinks and snacks. We chatted away. When I had to use the restroom, I demurely got up and went to relieve myself. I sat down on the latrine like a good girl, squeezed my penis, and felt the urine empty out through my pussy.... When we cuddled, I did rest my hand on his penis, and I just held it tightly like a security object, but I did not attempt any more "hanky panky" with this man. I was nervous about overdoing it. James seemed very contented just to have me. Was this our "first date?" I was having such a good time with James, and the time flew by the way it had never had before. Before I knew it, I looked up, and it was 10:30 PM.... "Oh no," I exclaimed suddenly, breaking our reverie, "I's gots to be at work at 6 AM tomorrow. How will I EVER go back to being Dave and get up in time?? I'll get fired fo' sure. "Damn," said James, "Well, I better let you go and get changed back. In a big hurry, I got up and gave James a quick but deep and lingering hug. He grabbed my tighted butt, and he gave me one final kiss before he sent me off. I quivered and felt a bit schoolgirlish. I felt a tingling in my tights and panties, and I could not wait before I satisfied this man again. "Oh James," I said, "Let me see you again." "Definitely," he replied, "I know I'll see you and your boys on Thursday." "Oh, I can' wait, can it be sooner?" "We'll see," James said ambiguously. .... By the time I returned home and washed off "LaShaunda," it was 2:30 AM before I was finally back in "male mode". Dreading having to get up early and working on only three hours of sleep, I crashed on the couch, still reeking of perfume and makeup, and the vague scent of James's residual semen. Even when I was back as a man, I felt shame in no way, shape, or form, as my Dave and LaShaunda egos were still distinct, and I felt I had done a necessary task in order to manipulate James (both literally and figuratively), back to my side. ----- What happened next was a disaster. Being so exhausted, I crashed and fell asleep. The next thing I knew, I groggily looked around and it was 10:30 AM, with the sun shining brightly through my window. There was no point in even trying to go to work, as I would miss 5 hours of the day. "Oh shit," I said angrily, "I've fucked it up now," and I began rushing to throw on my flannel uniform... I looked around, and assumed Ryan and Tommy had gotten themselves off to school. As much as I hated my job, and I had royally fucked up now, I still needed the security and guaranteed income from my factory job. I called Mr. Davidson and apologised profusely.... He said I had one more chance, and I would still be employed there tomorrow, but even 1 more incident where I was one second late, and I'd be on the street. I told him it was crystal clear.... With the day off now, I just sat around the house. I finally had time to reflect on the momentous events of last night, and what I had done with James. It sank in deeply that I had actually had that kind of sexual activity with an extremely virile black man. Back as "Dave Miller," I shuddered at the thought. However, it seemed only a memory now. At least, however, James had promised me I'd always be ok, but if he decided to "drop me", again, I'd be screwed, in the worst way. That afternoon Ryan and Tommy returned from school. Ryan stomped in through the door in his usual surly mood, but today, he seemed extremely distraught and upset. I noticed the pained look on his face... "What happened son?" I asked him. "Dad," said Ryan, "I was cut from the High School Baseball Team!! I've been on that team since I was in 1st grade. I'm so fucking pissed off." He chucked his backpack angrily across the kitchen. "Whoa, Whoa, son," calm down and tell me what happened. "That's the thing dad," he said, "I, I, I... don't know. I don't know what is wrong with me. Today, we did batting practice at the cages, and I got in there, and I couldn't even touch the ball with the bat. Every time I swung, I missed the ball by 3 feet, and I fell all over myself. I used to go in there and just crank out hits." "I know," I said, "that is so odd. You've always crushed the ball since you were six." "I don't know what happened," said Ryan, "Its like now, I just completely SUCK at baseball. The coach has been pointing it out for the last week, and my crappy practice today sealed the deal for him. He told me I was off the team, as I was clearly out-of-shape this year." "That's ridiculous," I said, until I looked and realized that Ryan was indeed looking a little "puffy." He was always stocky, but muscular and fit at the same time. However, now that I looked, I noticed that he did just look a bit pursy and short-winded. Also, through his tight under- armor shirt, I did kind of notice that where he once had defined pectoral muscles, he almost had a bit of what you could call rudimentary "man-boobs." To avoid offending him any more though, I had quite honestly said nothing about his poor exercise and diet habits until this conversation came up. "Son," I said, "maybe you just have to start watching your diet a bit more." Ryan was preparing a PBJ sandwich. "Then, you go back and show your coach he made a mistake in cutting you." "It doesn't matter now," said Ryan. "The coach told me to not even come back. And I don't blame him. We were running sprints, and he said my butt was getting so big that I was swaying like a blimp as I jogged. Truth be told, I don't even want to go back. Those guys were all fucking assholes to me when the coach was on my case. I also stormed off the field, almost crying, when Jason Stevens said my sweatpants really should say "GOODYEAR" down the side." "Oh," I said... "I don't know what I'm going to do now though," said Ryan. "I am royally screwed. Our HighSchool makes the completion of one extra- curricular activity each semester mandatory to pass each class. It is already March, and even the goddamn pantomime club is filled up. I don't know what the fuck I am going to do. There is absolutely NOTHING else I can join this late, and I'll have to go to Summer School...." Ryan hung his head down and just slumped. As we contemplated his predicament, we heard a knock at the door. I went to answer. Cha'relle, of all people, was at the door, and she was wearing an outfit consisting of white tights, and a tight black top, and black booty shorts. She was wearing a pink leotard and a sports-bra underneath. Her hair was done up in a nice style, that came off her face. She looked like she had been, or was ready to go to the gym. "Oh Hi LaShaunda," she said to me, casually, even though I was in Dave mode, "James sent me over. He thought it would be nice if I could stop by and show your boys all of the Soul Sista's moves before the dance lesson on Thursday. This way they won't go to the class and be completely lost newbies." "Hi Cha'relle, come in," I said. "Yeah, I'm definitely sure Tommy will want to practice with you. He's been shaking his bum-bum up there to that new Rihanna CD all afternoon. He is thrilled about the dance squad. I'll tell him to go change into his dance clothes and come down." "Tanisha isn't dancing," inquired Cha'relle curiously? " Ryan is dead set against it," I said. "And James said he was going to back off and wasn't going to pressure him into it." "Wait," said Ryan, who was standing in the living room, "I'll practice dance too with you guys. This is the only fucking thing I can do for an extra-curricular activity, even though I'm pissed about it. Besides, I am looking forward to seeing Danielle again, even if it has to be as Tanisha." Even Cha'relle was shocked. Ryan made this statement VERY reluctantly, but he was quite honestly dreading the consequences of having to repeat a grade if he didn't do an after-school activity, and the dance team was the only possibility. "Well then, young lady," said Cha'relle, "go and get changed into your leotard and meet back down here." Ryan slunk off. "Be sure to wear panties underneath your leotard and tights, for support," yelled Cherelle. Not long after, Tommy came bouncing down the stairs wearing the uber- cute black/white polka-dot leotard with the attached skirt, and white tights underneath. As he was twirling up to Cha'relle, his skirt came flying up, revealing the underside of his leotard and the white lacy panties he wore underneath his white tights. He was wearing his pink ballet slippers. He completely looked like a girl from the neck down. Ryan, a bit more embarassed, came down the stairs slowly and gingerly, wearing the light blue leotard I had worn at the dancewear store, and he wore white tights and white panties underneath. Ryan also wore pink ballet slippers. He was still completely in "boy mode," but wearing the girls' ballet outfit. He did not make eye-contact with any of us. He was clearly ashamed to have to be knocked off his high-horse on the baseball team, and to now have to be dancing like a little girl. "This sucks so bad, dad," he said. "You know I'd never be doing this otherwise." "It's all right son," I said, "I know you are all man underneath." "Yeah dad," he said, "Just know I'm ALWAYS a white BOY, no matter how they make me dress or look. I'm going right fucking back to being Ryan after all this nonsense, but it looks like I'll have to stick with dance for the rest of the spring." Ryan then begged Cha'relle to close the blinds, so that no one could stare in the living room and see the "debacle" that was going on, but Cha'relle refused defiantly, saying that the sunlight would make us dance much more energetically. Anyway, Ryan and Tommy took their positions in the living room, and Cha'relle said, "Let's get started, girls, with some stretches." Charelle had removed her tight top and shorts, and was posing there in just her leotard..... Cha'relle first had my sons run through the basic ballet positions, and they pointed their tighted legs and feet in accordance with Cha'relle's instructions. Tommy had much more enthusiasm at first, and natural grace in performing the moves. Ryan was very tentative and nervous about lithefully moving his arms and pointing his showgirl feet. After the preliminaries, Cha'relle said it was time to learn how to "pop-and-lock" and shake our booties. Cha'relle put some rap/funk music on the stereo, and the bump-and-grind music began. Cha'relle began demonstrating the 12 basic steps that every "Soul Sista'" needed to know, These moves involved things like thrusting your butt out provocatively, grooving your hips up and down, and gracefully waving your arms. Smiling at all times was important..... Tommy was eagerly taking to the moves, popping his coochie as Cha'relle was showing him how to shake his ass in a most impudent manner. Ryan on the other hand was having a hard time beginning his moves. He tried to begin thrusting out his growing and ever-widening butt, but he just could not bring himself to dance with enthusiasm. He WAS very capable of learning the steps, thanks to his atheletic background, but he had no heart for this. "Tanisha," explained Cha'relle, "Surely you want to learn the moves so you can do this dance with Danielle." "I ca, can't do it," said Ryan, "I just can't dance like a girl." "But Danielle will be so disappointed that her friend didn't learn the moves." "I'm sorry," said Ryan, "I just can't do this. I can't dance and I can't dance this way. He broke down, quit dancing, and stormed off towards his room." "I can't do it," he screamed, "I'm a WHITE BOY, not a black girl, and nothing can make me be TANISHA. I WILL retain my manhood !!! I won't dance like a sissy girl !!! I don't care if I have to repeat the 10th grade, I REFUSE to dress like a girl anymore. I am a MAN, a MAN For gods sakes !!!" I ran after him. Ryan was at a crossroads. As I went into his room, he was ripping off his leotard and tights. "Oh Honey," I said as I moved to comfort him. "Dad," he said, "Its all so unfair." He began to cry and sob uncontrollably. "Why do I HAVE to be a girl? All my friends get to be regular guys, wear pants, and think nothing of it. But why is everything and everyone in this world trying to get me into a dress and make me something I'm not??? Do I really have to be a black girl?" "Son," I said, "Sometimes we all do things we don't want to do. I didn't want to dress up as LaShaunda either, but I had to do so to take care of our family. Part of being a man is having to do necessary things you don't want to do. Its just called discipline. The sooner you learn that, the better." "But it's all too much," he said, "being a black girl." " Don't worry," I said, "I'm here for you, and I know you are all man underneath that dress. No matter how you look on the outside, I know how strong you are on the inside." Ryan began to feel better. "Look," I said, "I'm doing it, your brother is doing it, and we are all here together and supporting each other. The sooner we just suck it up and get done being black women, we can go back to our regular lives. All you have to do is just dance one day a week, for a few more months, and then be done with it." "I have no other choice," said Ryan, as he pulled his white tights back up. "And at least I will get to hang out with Danielle, and the other kids aren't bad either. I just don't want to wear fucking leotards and dresses." "I don't either," I said, "but you know, like I said, we'll just all get through it together. Also, wearing ladies' clothes is not really the worst thing that can happen to you? What if you lived in a crappy country like Rwanda, where you had nothing to eat? Also, half of the world population is female, and if so many other people wear dresses, how can it be degrading just for you??" This was some spur-of-the- moment crap I blurted out as Ryan got his pink ballet slippers back on. "I- I- I, I just don't know... I guess I'll try hard and give it another shot." " Look," I said, "If you just get through this dance class and pass the 10th grade, I'll use some of James's money to get you a car." "Really," said Ryan, suddenly perking up... "Yes," I said, instantly regretting my hasty promise, "I'll get you a brand new one too. A Ford F-150 truck, just like you want. All you have to do is dance as Tanisha a few times, and then the truck, and your manhood, are yours again." "Uh, ok," said Ryan, "I'll give it a go. I guess I have to go back out there again and dance." "Way to go sport," I said. "You'll do just fine. Now go out there and learn those dance moves." When Ryan went back to the living room, however, the dance lesson was temporarily in a hiatus. Cha'relle turned the hip-hop beats off of the boombox, and decided to address the three of us... "There are some other things James wanted me to bring up with you three ladies," said Cha'relle, "As you'll be continuing in your 'roles' for the near future...... In the first place, he says you really need to embrace your adopted ethnicities and genders 100%, as you have been going back and forth too much. In the first place, I and James will only refer to you three now as girls, ladies, or females, even if you are still dressed as guys. This will make everything uniform." We nodded in assent... "Next," said Cha'relle, "I know that you and Tommy have started to find ways in which you act like black women, especially as you both have begun to speak in Ebonics, when in character. However, if you are going to fit-in long term with your new peers, acting and speaking completely like a black woman needs to become permanent. You can no longer have your old white-male interests, hobbies, speaking-patterns, or ways of acting...." Cha'relle continued, "The main thing we will start working on is always speaking in "Ebonics" (what you girls know as "black-talk"), and we will ALWAYS practice talking like black girls in this house, even when dressed as men. So, for example, if Ryan wanted to go to the store, he should not say, "Mom, I am going to the store,"... he needs to say, "Momma, I's be goin' to the store"... He needs to try and do this in his best "black girl" voice with ethnic inflection." For now, its best to just mimic the types of things you see in movies," Continued Cha'relle, "I have brought over large selection of films for the three of you to watch. I have some here like 'How Stella Got her Groove Back,' and 'Something New.' These movies will give you a good idea of things like how black women interact with each other, and how they interact around black men !! Learn from these and study how the black women in this movie flirt, and try and mimic these things. For Ryan and Tommy, I also have a # of magazines like "Seventeen", and a few publications aimed especially at younger-girls......... Oh, I also have a few magazines that discuss black hairstyles, which we will be picking out for ourselves coming up shortly...." Ryan groaned... "Starting today," said Cha'relle, "The three of you will begin to always speak in Ebonics. Even if you fail at first, trying is the important thing, for now. The first lesson in Ebonics, and the way in which Ebonics is different from standard English, is that the verb "To Be" is never conjugated in Ebonics. In other words, "you always 'be,'" goin' somewhere." I was not so happy about my boys learning incorrect English, but I said nothing. Cha'relle then had Ryan practice. She instructed Ryan to say, "Momma, I's be goin' to the ballet class," over and over again, until she was satisfied that he had the right little-black-girl sassiness and attitude with the statement. Ryan felt extremely degraded as he was forced to make several statements in front of his father and brother, including, "Momma, Is' be callin' my boo, Tyrone, later to'nite !!" He spoke these words with reluctance and no convinction. Anyway, we wrapped up our impromptu grammar class once Cha'relle, the strong black female role model, decided to change the pace and resume dancing. The lesson continued, and Cha'relle taught both of my boys the patterns for three dances to rap songs, until they were both exhausted. However, with the one-on-one training, my sons could soon perform enough of the routines to survive the upcoming Soul Sista's practice. The dances involved some basic steps, with "strutting," and lots of shaking their butts and smiling. Tommy was a natural. Cha'relle actually explained that some of the routines of the "Soul Sista's" were actually quite simple, at least compared to a regular cheerleading squad. Cha'relle explained that the Soul Sista's were really more of a dance group for "display," and public appearances, rather than an acrobatic troupe. In other words, a big part of was that it was fun for girls to get pretty and strut down their street in their tight and sparkly outfits during the Martin Luther King Jr. day parade, waving their arms and enthusiastically jumping up and down. This is why James and Cha'relle were convinced that Ashanti and Tanisha could just jump right in and participate in the group, and get something out of it. It would be a tremendous and all-encompassing social experience of immersion that would get them instantly "jiving" with their new peers. However, Cha'relle had said that later, we would all be attending a structured ballet class. Learning the discipline of classic ballet would give Ashanti and Tanisha more of a "foundation" for dance and participating in the Soul Sista's. James also wanted me to learn ballet in an adult ballet class, to help me develop more feminine and fluid body motions. We were told that we would study at the Shanice O'Collins school of dance, the city's only traditionally black dance school (of course). The dances featured steps that were obviously meant for black girls to perform... one of the rap songs, for example, was by an unknown artist (to me), and was a loud throbbing blare entitled "Blaqueesha," that continuously repeated "Blaqueesha." My boys were meant to be "Blaqueesha," African Queens of the jungle, wearing leopard print leotards and gyrating around the palm-trees, for their black stud (just returned from a lion hunt)... I imagined my sons with pierced noses and massive braided "up-dos"... (NO !!!) Despite Cha'relle's insistence that the dances were easy, it was very difficult for Ryan to correctly point his toes in the manner that Cha'relle wanted, but he was beginning to correctly display his legs like a "showgirl." Both of my sons were able to run through the patterens for 3 dances, even though at this point, their performances were still a bit "hitchy" and forced. However, the foundation was there for them to dance as girls and attend practice with minimul fuss.... Cha'relle's dancing was always saucy, sexual, and smooth. She was the feminine idol my boys were attempting to emulate. Cha'relle danced as if she was the hot tribal maiden attempting to lure the biggest black stud into her trap. It was clear that before long, Ryan and Tommy would be dancing similarly. I had more thoughts that the three of us were African natives of a country like Ethiopia, and featured on the cover of the odd National Geographic... our large breasts and giant nipples bared. By day, we took care of and milked our large brood... by night, we gyrated around the bonfire and flirted with the lascivious tribal males. If worst came to worst, we would be subjected to insane facial piercings, or we would be force-fed grains until we developed the enormous butts appropriate for African Women. (NO !!! Where were my thoughts now taking me?? I know I am feeling increasingly "different"... I have never had these types of thoughts before. What is happening to me and my boys !!! I have to rescue us !!!).... But it is hopeless, as my sons are prancing and preening about in their leotards and tights, dancing like girls and thrusting their butts and lady parts forward rapidly like Josephine Baker, bouncing with the beat. Soon, they too will become the hot black-girl dancers, featured in lingerie, and slinking around studly and tattood rap-artists in yet another nameless hip-hop video on MTV. (I have to get us out, before it's too late !!! They are doing Jazz hands !!!, and they have limp wrists !!! What, does Ryan now have a smile on his face??) By the evening, my boys were utterly exhausted from their gyrations and primping, and had to go change and go to sleep, as they had school next morning. I also had yet another day at work. Cha'relle told us that she would be by tomorrow to give my sons more dance training, and that Thursday would be their first "Soul Sista's" practice !!! --------- On Thursday, my sons came home, instantly prepared to cosmetically change into black females and get ready for dance. (Cha'relle had come by on Wednesday and had done more practicing with my boys, and they had both shown substantial improvement and gracefullness in their steps from yesterday). I was prepared for yet more resistance and reluctance from Ryan, but he surprisingly was very laconic and accepting... Perhaps he even realized that protest was useless, and that he would spend time as Tanisha, as much as his male ego was fighting the transition. "Ok mom," he said, "I'm ready." "You seem ok today," I said hesitantly. "Its all right dad," he said, "I'm fine with becoming Tanisha." "Are you absolutely sure," I said in an almost whispered voice, so Tommy wouldn't hear, "you know I completely understand if you want to back out. If you tell me know, I'll make sure you never have to wear a dress again." "No dad," said Ryan, "I can do this and get it over with. I'll never get into college if I have to repeat a grade. This is just that one "big thing" in life I just have to suck up and do." "Ok son, ok," I said, "Then lets start getting changed. After now 6 or 7 times we had "changed over," we were starting to get to be "old hands" at applying our dark tans, and attaching our wigs and prosthetics without any supervision from James or Cha'relle. As our family went to my master-bedroom to begin changing into black females, much of the initial "shock-value" had worn off, and I think this made the three of us much more accepting of our fates. We were used to being girls. After I had darkly tanned all three of us with our pitch skin-coloring, and I glued on the fake female genitalia to my boys, we went into my bedroom and began changing. Now, Ryan and Tommy were actually laughing as they compared their sizeable bras and put them on, laughing at the size of Ryan's mammoth bra cups. "Hey Tanisha," taunted Ashanti, "Yous always said yous wanted to go parachutin'... Well, yous can use just use yo' bra when you jump out of the airplane. Its big enough !!!" Rather than being offended, Ashanti's big sister just laughed as she struggled to pull her white dance tights up over her big white panties. "Oh, and Tanisha," said Ashanti, "I just LOVE those mammoth white cotton drawers you are wearing. Yous' wanna get all the navy boys in town by hoisting that sail !!" Tanisha reached out to strike her kid sister. "That be enough, yous two... no mo' fightin'," I cautioned sternly. They backed off and resumed dressing. At this point, I was quite honestly wondering if they were respecting me more now as the strong, sassy, and uber-confident black woman, rather then how I was as the meek and mild David Miller. If this was indeed the case, then maybe James and I were both onto something regarding this role for me being the most empowering one. I looked, and my daughters were just two girls quietly changing for dance, and there was nothing really degrading about this any more. We only needed our wigs and makeup, and any onlooker would have just seen a regular black family getting ready for their teenaged daughters' extra- curricular activity. Both of my girls wore their white dance-briefs, and they got on ther white dance tights. Tanisha pulled on a purple leotard with cap-sleeves, and Ashanti a similar red one of the same cut. Both girls actually looked so striking in these colors. I commented to Tanisha how she was wearing purple, a traditionally "black" color. I don't think she had realized, at first. As for me, I wore an outfit with yellow tights, and a purple skirt-suit. For some reason, I had the strange desire to "get colorful" and dress flamboyantly, like a giant skittle. I dressed myself like a business- lady, as I wanted to feel like someone of importance. Truth be told, feeling like a black business-lady felt much more satisfying than "Dave Miller, factory worker." I donned matching purple heels, and I grabbed a large faux clutch-purse.... I didn't really need to dress this classy, but I wanted to be perceived as a black woman to be reckoned with. The blazer of my skirt-suit had many large pockets, and big shoulder- pads. My skirt was also very short and showed off my shapely legs in yellow tights, and my high-heels pushed my butt up even more. I was also being hugged underneath by a tan bra and panty set. I felt very "put together" in this outfit, and also very sensual and sexy. I touched up my look with a gold necklace, and some bracelets and rings James had left me. As I preened in the mirror, my girls both pulled on warm-up jackets to wear over their dance clothes. Finally, I told them it was time to do our makeup and get or wigs on, as we only had 30 more minutes before Cha'relle would pick us up for dance practice. I sat my sons down in front of the mirror and made our last vestiges of masculinty disappear. Cha'relle had given us vague instructions not to try and "style" our wigs, but just to do our makeup. This gave me plenty of times to do all of the specific tips that James and Cha'relle had given me, on how to make our noses look wider, and our lips look puffier. It was actually incredible how a few small dabs could really bring out a girl's face. It still felt sad and distressing to be "erasing" my sons, but in a way, I felt like their two new personalities were emerging. Even with Ryan, I was able to begin seeing glimpses of "Tanisha" that were coming out. In any case, I was just happy that Ryan seemed so much more "docile" these last few days, and willing to just accept this and get it over with, so he could reclaim his man-hood by the summer. Cha'relle finally greeted us, and she came back and quickly styled our hair into 3 very cute "ballet buns." This was the "big surprise", we were informed. With our hair up and off our faces, we all actually looked very cute, and we were told that we would dance much better without our long locks flying rapidly in our eyes... ... In the future, however, we would have to learn how to do our own "ballet buns," as we'd be getting into leotards and dancing at least multiple nights a week. We really liked how the ballet buns looked, with our hair pulled up, as it really showed off our beautiful long African necks... Another thing, however, was that Ryan was the only one of us who had a prominent Adam's Apple. Cha'relle did him a favor and gave him a few gold necklaces to hide it. She said it would be ok, as wearing "bling" when he danced was fine for a black girl. Another thing we noticed, however, was with Ryan's weight gain over the past couple of weeks, perhaps his neck had gotten thicker, which made his Adam's Apple less noticable. Anyway, our "dance family" piled in the car and sped off towards James's church. We were already on the verge of being late, thanks to the time it took us ladies to prepare. Fortunately though, we got there on time just as about 23 black girls, 2 black guys, and 1 white girl were milling about in a hallway outside a subsidiary Gymnasium attached to the Mega-church complex. Much to my horror, Cha'relle told me that she would be leaving me for the duration of the dance lesson, and coming back to pick me up. I was on my own as LaShaunda. I had assumed she would be there to shield me and introduce me to people, but Cha'relle insisted that I was ready to be thrown into the fire and do some light socializing there. Before I could meekly protest, Cha'relle sped off, and my girls and I gingerly began to mingle.... Shaniqua and Monique were there, also in leotards and tights, ready to conduct the dance practice. The two instructors wore outfits more appropriate for a teacher, with a tank-top worn over their leotard, and only cutoff black tights instead of the full-footed tights that the regular girls were expected to wear. All of the girls were stripping out of their warmup "booty shorts" and dance cardigans, and most were wearing white tights and leotards underneath. All wore leotards, but a few were in tan or black tights. Most of the black girls had pretty and ostentatious hairstyles with beads and braids, and the main hobby for most of the girls was just to sit around on the floor "stylin' each other's 'do's''". All of the girls were really cute, and seemed like they would be great friends for my girls... It was an extremely frantic atmosphere in the hallway as such a large group of black youths were busy preparing and spritzing themselves with beauty products.... checking their outfits and "styles." Also, I was struck by the level of volume, but also fun and community that these kids had. The black kids would breatk out into impromptu raps, dance routines, and other spontaneous elements of fun. One of the black boys on the squad kept repeatedly demonstrating his ability to do a back- flip, and some break dance moves, much to the admiration of several black girls, including Tommy. Most of the black girls seemed really chatty, with the topics of conversation being things like, well; Boys, boys, rap music, and more boys. Tommy ran right up to one smaller group of girls and blended in seamlessly. Ryan, on the other hand, was a bit tentative about joining a clique, until the extremely attractive white girl, Danielle, spotted him and waved him over, eagerly. Danielle was also wearing a purple leotard and white tights, and I thought it was a bit cute how Ryan and his "schoolboy crush" just happened to wear matching outfits. Ryan, even in disguise as Tanisha, really seemed to hopelessly like Danielle, and he followed her around as she introduced him to more girls. Another thing I noticed, now able to observe the group, was that Ryan and Tommy actually had the darkest skin-tone of any of the black girls in the dance troupe. I then realized what James had explained to me, a few days ago, that most black people in America had amounts white ancestry, thanks to impregnation and mixed-bloodelines from the white masters way back when. How ironic, I thought, it was now, that my two lily-white boys could be the darkest (but also most attractive) black girls in a dance troupe designed to venerate and promote the black race. "Oh, the hands we get dealt." Anyway, as the dance lesson was ready to start, the girls bustled about to prepare. Hair was given last minute styling and spritzing to make sure it stayed up off the face. 20+ girls slipped out of their sneakers and into their pink ballet shoes. Warmups and booty-shorts came flying off and tossed into clumpy piles in the corner, on top of pink dance bags and purses. Girls adjusted their leotards and tights, making sure everything fit properly. As the black girls all took off their booty-shorts, however, one thing I noticed was how many girls had visible thong-lines or panty-lines poking out from underneath the bottoms of their leotards. I thought that this was really cute, but also possibly a bit "slutty." However, I noticed that my two girls also had their white underwear fully on display under their white tights, as they bent over or gyrated around, so what could I really say about the situation?? I guess it was the same as having a "visible thong" under low-rider jeans that the whole world would see when a girl bent over !! Just a part of modern life, I guess... (visible underwear... lol). Shaniqua and Monique finally took their positions at the front of the gymnasium, calling the girls together and bringing some order out of chaos. As Ryan and Tommy took their positions in a large formation of pantyhosed girls, I was suddenly called over by the "dance moms." Much to my shock, I was called out of my dreamland of seeing my two boys becoming cute little dancers... I don't know how it happened, but I instantly now became a part of the "dance mom's" clique... I had just been standing there, staring into the gym and watching my daughters whistfully, when I was tapped on the shoulder by another black lady.... "Hi there," she said sweetly, "Are those be your two daughters on the squad? I saw you girls come in." "Oh, hello there, you startled me," I replied suddenly. Truth be told, it was terrifying and nerve-wracking to be suddenly accosted, especially as I was still a novice at being LaShaunda. Now, here, for the first time, I was being forced into an unstructured situation, with no James to rescue me in case things went badly and I gave away "Dave Miller."" "Hi there," said the black lady, "I've seen you a few times before, and you are???" "LaShaunda, LaShaunda Jackson," I replied. "My two daughters are trying out the squad today, to see how they like it." The black lady looked into the small door-window of the gym and said, "Oh yes, I see the two new girls. They really seem to be doing well." "Really," I said? As "Dave Miller," I would have no way to judge what was good dancing and what was bad. "That is great if they are doing well," I stated, "But I really know almost nothing about dance." "Well," said the black lady, "Your daughters, especially the thinner one, really seem to have a lot of natural talent and enjoyment." I looked at Tommy as he was waving his ass back and forth like a hot-air balloon in a violent wind.... The lady continued, "My daughter is also on the squad, Kiesha O'Collins..." 'O'Collins,' I thought... that name sounded familiar. "Not to brag," said the black lady, "But my little girl is one of the top ballerinas in the state. She was an alternate, and she was almost invited to the prestigious Prix De Lausanne competition in Switzerland last year." "The Prix De Lausanne...?" "Yes," said the black lady, "It is the most prestigious ballet competition in the world. The winner gets a scholarship and a guaranteed slot with the Paris Opera Ballet. My dance school regularly lines up students for ballet competitions like these..." "You aren't... Shanice O'Collins, are you?" "Why yes," she said, extending a black and maincured hand that met my painted fingers, "That is my dance school. And can I ask, have your daughters done much other types of dancing until now?" "To be honest with you," I said, "No, they mostly played girls basketball until recently. But we dropped it to focus on school." "Ahh, school be so important. But listen, I was actually going to ask you if your girls would be interested in 'private dance lessons' at my academy? I could teach them so much more technique and help them quickly develop into serious ballerinas. I have never seen such raw talent from two girls, especially two new dancers." At that moment, I perhaps realized that it was the years and years of coordination developed by the constant sports my sons played, that gave the the "edge" in mastering a female activity. They went in there and dominated !! It was clear that even Ryan was able to execute the moves with so much more "power" than the other girls. All of the black girls were spinning, pirouetting, and gyrating, but Ryan and Tommy actually looked like the little stars. Keisha O'Collins, however, was also a little starlet in her own right. She had incredible long legs that she used to expert effect. Had you done a serious comparision between my boys and Keisha, the experienced girl could have danced circles and used a lifetime of technique to overwhelm Ryan and Tommy. "Listen," I said, "I am very interested. Do you have a card?" Shanice pulled out a business card from her purse, that was festooned with graphics of black female ballerinas. She handed it to me. "LaShaunda," said Shanice, "Why don't you come over here and meet some of the other moms. 5 or 6 black ladies sat around a table, sipping coffee. I recognized 3 or 4 of them from the congregation... It was partially terrifying knowing now that I would be accepted into the "circle" of black ladies. In the first place, what would ANYONE I knew say if they could see me now? I suddenly had a terrifying thought... "What would my father say if he could see his only son right at this moment !!! (his pride and joy)... He would SURELY be so ashamed to see his boy dolled up like an ebony goddess, just seamlessly chatting away with the other "welfare momma's." (My dad was in incurable racist who hated black people and attributed the worst stereotypes to all of them). Yet, now his son, and his two grandsons were complete black females. I was scared by the idea that at some point in the distant future, we would have to "confront" him, and my doting mother, in our new presentations and identities. In the immediate present, now I would not only have to present myself physically as a black woman, but I would not have to carry on a conversation and keep up a social-life within my new ebony identity. Anyway, I was snapped out of my fearful-reverie and introduced to LaKeesha, a 36 year old housewife who also had two teenaged daughters on the dance-squad. LaKeesha had a beautiful short hairstyle, long legs and arms, and she wore a white power-suit with white tights. Instantly, I was struck and overwhelmed by her instantly impactful beauty... She struck me as looking very similar to that once-famous tall Ethiopian model (what was her name??) At once, I forgot about the shame my father might feel over my ebony fate, and I was instead suddenly comparing myself to the beauty of this new statuesque goddess. I almost felt like she put me to shame, even though my "male" build gave me a height and strong facial features comparable to hers. LaKeesha was very friendly, however, and she held out her manicured hand. She informed me that her husband, Kendrick, was an attorney and a colleage of James's on his law-firm. I introduced myself to LaKeesha and said, "Oh, maybe our daughters will become friends." I was also introduced to Sharona, Ja'nelle, and Sherea... We all sat down and just laughed the time away... I noticed, first of all, that most of the other dance-moms all wore secretarial or business outfits, and it seemed that all besides LaKeesha had come from their jobs. I would later find out that most of the ladies were employed by the Federal Government, as that was the only institution that had made hiring of minorites mandatory. All of the ladies said that they had had trouble finding work with private companies. It was then that I was struck by an element of racial inequality that I would never have noticed as "Dave Miller." As a guy, it would have never occured to me that a black woman would have trouble getting hired, as most independent businessmen would just slam the door on any random black lady turning up to look for a job.... People of the same race looked out for each-other. Another thing I noticed, too, was that most of the black ladies had strong and showy harstyles, many with braids or fun-updos. My own hair had been styled up in a quasi-ballet bun by Cha'relle. The style still looked ok though... As I was sitting there, LaKeesha suddenly asked me, "LaShaunda, who do yo' hair braiding??" Shocked by the question, I panicked. I could only think of one hair braiding parlor... (I had only ever seen one in my whole life, as I lived in a mostly white community)... "Uh, Pauline's hair braiding, on 8th street"... (I had driven by this a few times before). "I knows Pauline," said LaKeesha, "How she be doin? How be her new baby?" "Oh great," I said, completely bluffing. I tried to be succcint and give away as few details as possible, as I had obviously never been to Pauline's establishment. "Pauline be so sweet," said LaKeesha, "She almos' like a 2nd momma to me too..." "Aww," I said, not really sure what to say. God, I was still so new to being a black woman. The other black ladies all talked and talked, but I didn't exactly jump into the conversation like a duck to water. "Is be thinking about goin' in for a weave next month," I said, feeling like I had to blurt something out. "Yeah sista," said Sherea, "Yous got beautiful hair, yo'. You'd look amazin' wif a weave. Pauline does the best weaves in da city." So here I was discussin' how I'd be getting tarted up and made even more like an African Goddess... Fortunately though, the ladies changed the subject. Sharea said, "So, give us da' dish. Us be goin' out with that fine hunk James, right??? What be he like???..." "mmm mmm mmm girl," added Ja'nelle, "That be the finest man I have ever seen, and u scored him !!! He reminds me of Taye Diggs, or Idris Elba..." "mmm..." I was a bit embarassed now, talking about my large black "boo" whom I had done a very disgraceful sex act with, just a few days ago. "Oh, you can see she be blushin," said LaKeesha. "I bet he be "packin'" though," she continued. "Packin'" I asked inquisitively? "Lol, yeah, you know, he be big down there?" "Ohh... I know," I said, "Well, I can' really kiss and tell..." "Woo hoo..." "Thats enough, lol," said Angela, another of the black ladies, who was also a bit older, "I'm sorry sweetie, but we always give the new girls a hard time about their new "sugar daddy." We all have husbands and boyfriends here." Looking at the girls/ladies, it was then I realized that all of these women had a "hen pecking" social order, and it was like a club where they all had husbands, and a competition to see whose man would load them up with the most clothes, jewelry, and outfits. All of the black ladies had men in their lives who completely took care of them and treated them like show-pieces, and their girlfriends and wives were just "arm candy." Even worse, now I was little more that James's arm-candy. James had picked me out just to transform into a s