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Alyssa and I Chapter 1. The day I turned 22 was also the day I graduated from college. Pretty cool--what better birthday present could there be than a shiny new diploma! I knew the world was my oyster as I walked across the stage to shake hands with the university President, very conscious of the admiring eyes of my parents and little sister as they led the general acclamation that accompanied the arrival of each new graduate on stage. After the ceremony, my family and I came back to my messy bachelor apartment to unwind. My roommate Sam, who wouldn't graduate until next year, was lounging on our dingy second-hand couch with a beer. "Hey, you sloth!" I chided him playfully. "Why haven't you cleaned this place up? You knew I was bringing royalty over." "Up yours, Pat," he answered in the same tone. And then, "Pardon my French," he added, nodding at my parents. My dad rolled his eyes a bit, but made himself comfortable in our only broken-down armchair after I had cleared it of a pile of dirty clothes. "Anyway, Pat," continued Sam, "you're not going to be worried about messy apartments much longer. I have news for you." "And what's that?" I asked, as I shoved more garbage out of the way so my mom and sister could sit. "You know that Lotto ticket you bought the other day? I took the liberty of checking the numbers, since the drawing was yesterday. What do you think I found?" "I won a dollar?" "Yes... and another, and another, and another... a whole bunch of others, in fact. Pat, you won the whole stinking thing! Twenty-five million dollars!" I gave him a jaundiced look. "If that were true, you wouldn't be here, you thief. Tell me another one." "No, I shit you not!" he cried; then glanced at my parents again. "Sorry. But check it out! You really have the winning ticket!" He stood, and went over to the board on cinder blocks that served as his desk, where a geriatric computer wheezed. He wiggled the mouse to bring up the website, and picked up the ticket from where it lay next to the keyboard and put it in my hand. "Take a look yourself." I looked. And looked. My Mom, Dad, and sister came over and looked too. And looked. "Well," I said, after a while. "This changes some things," I said. A few months later, when I had settled the futures of all my family members, Sam, and a few other close friends, and had substantially improved the prospects of a number of friends I hadn't known I had, I looked at my bank balance and realized I was going to have to do things differently. I had changed my phone number twice, and all my email addresses, and never went out, but even this wasn't enough to keep the spongers at bay. I needed to make a radical change. I had been planning to go to graduate school, and I still thought I would like to do that. But there was no longer any need to subject myself to the rigors of obtaining an advanced degree. I could study what I liked, when I liked, and for as long as I liked. But I obviously couldn't do it here. I needed to disappear. After a few weeks of research, I began to put my plans in motion. I shared them with my immediate family, of course, but with the understanding that they would keep them close to the vest. I had found and purchased a secluded rural property on the outskirts of a small mid-western city which shall remain nameless. It was a lovely old house that had been kept in pretty good shape, on a two-acre parcel of land. It had once been a farmhouse, but the farm had long been absorbed into a larger operation, leaving the house as a delightfully private place for an independently wealthy person to live. It was only about a half-hour drive to the city, and there was a university there, and all the shops, theaters, and restaurants I could ask for. Being just out of college, I didn't have much in the way of worldly belongings. I showed up one day with a U-Haul and was settled in by evening. I went to sleep with a smile on my face, thinking that it would be a long time before scroungers tracked me down. Though I was alone in a strange place, I had always been of a private disposition, and I was looking forward to the solitude, after the hurly-burly of the past months. The next morning was delightfully leisurely. I puttered about the kitchen, fixing coffee, toast, and eggs, and went out on the porch to eat and enjoy the morning sunshine. It was late summer, and pleasantly warm without being too hot, though I could feel a touch of the coming autumn in the early morning air. After breakfast, I went inside, put my dishes in the sink, and went to take a shower. After the shower, I was pulling on my jeans when I heard someone knocking at the door. "Already?" I thought despondently. I pulled on a tee-shirt and made my way to the door. When I opened it, I encountered a tall, handsome young woman, wearing tan cargo pants and a loose-fitting blue tee-shirt. Her straw-colored hair fell carelessly to her shoulders. She had a nice smile and a few freckles on her cheeks, and gave the impression of being extremely earthy and wholesome. I looked at her uncertainly, unsure what to say. Fortunately she didn't wait for me to make up my mind. "Hi. I'm your neighbor!" she said, holding out her hand. "Alyssa. I live just down the road." "Oh! Well, won't you come in?" I replied. "Sorry, the place is a bit of a shambles still. I just moved in." I motioned her to a chair. "Would you like some coffee? I just made some." "I'd love a cup, thank you. I don't mean to disturb you; I know you have a lot to do getting settled. I just wanted to say hello and welcome you to the neighborhood. I won't stay but a minute." She stayed for forty-five minutes, and had three cups of coffee. We seemed to hit it off instantly, as if we had known each other for years. It was hard for me to avoid telling her all my history and how I was rich as Croesus, but I managed it, merely letting her know that I had a secure income and didn't need to work. She lived about half a mile away, on another farm which she had inherited from her parents, who had both died a few years ago. She rented the farmland to the same concern that had bought the farm that used to be attached to my house, so she could concentrate on her craft work and gardening, the produce of both of which she sold at local markets. She got enough income from the rental that she didn't need to do any other real work. Alyssa and I soon became fast friends, and visited each other often. She was thirty-four years old, but didn't have a husband or boyfriend, having pretty much given up on romance after a couple of unhappy relationships. Now she claimed to be content to work her garden and cultivate solid friendships with the other members of the diffuse rural community in which she lived. And I think she was content. Chapter 2. Alyssa was my closest neighbor, but there were other homesteads in the vicinity. A drive along the narrow highway that passed by my house and then Alyssa?s would show you, every mile or two, another house; and, typically, a cluster of silos and sheds for the crops and farming equipment. About two miles away from me a gravel road led around a low hill to the grange, where the locals gathered for festivals and weddings, and occasional meetings about the farming business. Alyssa was friendly with all the farmers? wives nearby, and began to introduce me to them as occasion presented. I also met the farmers themselves, and the farmhands; but they were mostly good ol? boys with whom I had little in common. But the wives seemed to find my college-boy pseudo-intellectualism to be a breath of fresh air, and fawned on me shamelessly. ?He?s nothing but a smarty-pants!? Alyssa would reprimand them, when their enthusiasm became too fulsome. I was soon on comfortable terms with everyone in Alyssa's circle of friends. Alyssa seemed to think I needed looking after. She was constantly bringing me care packages of cookies or whatever had most recently come from her oven, or inviting me over for lunch or dinner. (She was an excellent cook and baker, as well as a gardener, and often featured the produce of her garden in the meals she prepared.) When I chided her for paying so much attention to me, she said that having me around was like having a little brother, which she had always wanted. ?I always wanted a little sister too,? she confided; for she was an only child. She also seemed to like to boss me around, but she didn't do this so much that it became annoying. Besides, she did it in such a gentle, friendly was that I think she could have done it all the time without annoying me. It was very hard to get annoyed with Alyssa, and even harder to stay that way. Though her beauty was of a somewhat raw and rough kind, Alyssa was an extremely feminine woman. She exuded femininity in her every gesture and intonation. The sway of her hips as she moved around her kitchen, her motherly tones as she showed me the right way to cook a hard-boiled egg, the wise but enigmatic look in her eyes as we chatted across the table... everything about her made me feel as if I were in the presence of some beneficent earth-goddess. Sometimes I found this a little intimidating, but she was so open and approachable that the feeling never lasted more than a moment. One of the things I found most charming about Alyssa, and indeed about all the people I met through her, was her extreme discretion. After that first surprise visit, she never came over without telephoning first, and never over-stayed her welcome when she came to visit. Since, as I mentioned, I am by nature a rather private person, an introvert who needs a lot of time to himself, I found this to be a delightful quality of character. Have you ever noticed how, when you are left to your own devices for an extended period of time, your natural inclinations become more dominant, pushing aside the socialized patterns of behavior that kept them in check when you were surrounded by people? To put it another way, that you become more like yourself? Well, this certainly happened to me in this quiet rural haven. I'll tell you how this tendency showed itself, though you may find it a little weird. The thing about me, and my natural inclination most suppressed by the presence of society, is that I like to wear girl's clothing. I am a cross-dresser. Not like a drag queen or anything like that, and I don't take any overt sexual pleasure from it (though there probably is some sexual connection, as there is with so many of our behaviors); no, I just like to dress in female clothing and go about my daily activities that way. I feel so much more comfortable and natural dressed that way, especially in the underwear, than I do in male clothing. Even as a child I liked to steal my sister's panties and wear them. I am slight of build, and she is only a year younger than me, so fit was never an issue. Ruffle-leg panties are ever so much more comfortable than boy's briefs. In my childhood days, and in college, discretion restricted me to wearing panties under my jeans. But now, with time on my hands and no one about to peek in my windows, my proclivity took flight. I began to order clothing off the internet. The frilly, girly panties that I loved, skater dresses, pleated schoolgirl skirts, then bras and camisoles, and pretty, feminine blouses, knee socks and stockings, a few teddies, and best of all babydoll pajamas with matching panties, which I wore every night. And shorts, and even a few pairs of jeans and slacks. Soon I had a large wardrobe. At first I was worried about being seen if I went outside in my girl's clothes, but soon I became confident in my solitude, and began to venture out to walk about my property or do outside chores. But before long the cold mid-western winter began to set in, and I didn't go out much, and then only in my hip-hugger jeans or, if I really wanted to wear a dress, warm tights. Whenever I heard from Alyssa or one of my other friends that they wanted a visit, I would just change into my boy uniform of sweatshirt and jeans, but always leaving my panties on. Sometimes, when I was feeling adventurous, I would leave on a bra or cami too. I really didn't want anyone to know about my little quirk, as I called it; but something kept driving me to risk exposure. I loved the feeling, too, of being in public dressed as a girl, with no one knowing it; hence the occasional bra when I went out. (Panties I wore as a matter of course, without even thinking about it.) I couldn't say why I felt this way; perhaps I secretly did want to be exposed. But rationally I knew I would never be accepted dressed as a woman, and I didn't want to lose the friendships I had just found. One snowy afternoon in February, Alyssa and I were enjoying a pot of tea at my place when she said, ?Say... Deanna's going to host a Mary Kay party at my place next Saturday. Would you like to come?? ?I don't know... what would I do at a Mary Kay party?? I said. ?Oh I don't know... watch the silly women painting their faces, I guess. You could be our steward, and serve us coffee and cookies. It would be fun!? I demurred, but eventually let her persuade me. It was pretty hard for me to deny her anything. And it's not as if I had anything else to do on Saturday. The day came quickly enough, and I showed up at Alyssa's at about 1 o'clock. On this occasion, knowing I would be faced with all sorts of feminine artillery, I felt the need to assert my maleness; so I wore my most unisex Jockey panties, and nothing else of a feminine nature. The house was full of women?well, six of them, all of whom I knew, and soon we were chatting comfortably while Deanna prepared her products for demonstration. Then we all gathered around a table, and she began to explain how they were used and their various advantages. The point of the party, of course, was for all the women to use some of the products and get so caught up in the process that they ordered some. After getting the women started with cleansers and toners and foundations, Deanna turned her attention to me. ?Usually men just shave at these events, because we have some excellent shaving products. But it looks like you already have, so you might try some of this skin conditioner for men.? She held up a bottle. Though she was correct about my shaving, this was, I knew, her polite way of side-stepping the fact that, at 22, my beard was late coming in and shaving was for me a thirty-second exercise about twice a week. For the most part my face was as smooth as a baby's bottom. I am naturally fair-complexioned, and didn't have a great deal of hair anywhere except on my head. ?Here, let me do it,? Alyssa said, and took the bottle. She applied some of the contents to a cotton pad, and began to wipe my face with it carefully. ?Hey, you know what we should do?? one of the younger women, Sandra, said abruptly. ?We should make Pat up!? ?What? No way!? I cried, and they all laughed. ?I think it's a great idea,? said Alyssa. ?Come on, Pat, be a sport. We won't tell anyone. It'll be fun!? I was still reluctant, but if Alyssa said it, that was the way it was going to be, as far as I was concerned. Also there was a little voice in my head saying, ?Do it! You know you want to.? And I realized that this was a chance to venture more deeply into my girlishness in a public way without taking any real flak for doing it. So presently I assented, while trying to preserve an outward air of being put upon. So they went to work on me, with foundation, blushes, eyeshadow, lipstick, and a number of products whose nature and purpose were a mystery to me. Presently Alyssa, who had been putting the finishing touches on my lips, sat back with a satisfied air and pronounced, ?There! That should do it. Show him the mirror.? A mirror was placed in front of me. In it, looking back at me, was a beautiful young woman. I was shocked and mortified, but strangely pleased at the same time. I really was a pretty girl! ?Ooo... ahh...? they cooed. ?You're beautiful, Pat!? ?Except for that hair,? Alyssa said, fingering my straggly locks critically. Since moving to the country, I hadn't bothered to cut my hair, which now fell to my shoulders in an unkempt cascade. ?But we can fix that,? Alyssa went on. ?I don't use it much, but I do have a curling iron here someplace.? She got up to search for it. ?That won't be necessary,? I protested. ?I'm quite pretty enough as it is.? ?Don't be silly, Pat,? said Alyssa. ?This won't hurt a bit.? She brought the sinister instrument and plugged it in. ?Now hold still. This thing gets hot, and I don't want to burn you.? She did what I suppose was a quick and dirty job on me, putting some waves and curls into my hair, and brushed it out, and showed me the mirror again. ?That'll have to do for now. But you really need to get that hair done, Pat.? I looked in the mirror. I had to admit, it did look better. And I looked, and felt, more girly than ever. I tried to muster some resentment, but I was overcome by the allure of the face looking back at me. Chapter 3 A few days later Alyssa invited me over for lunch, just the two of us. She served stuffed Portobello mushrooms and a green salad with a tangy vinaigrette dressing. Always something interesting at Alyssa's table. After lunch, as we were sitting at the table enjoying a cup of tea and talking of this and that, she raised the topic of my hair again. ?Pat, you may not be aware that, among my other wonderful accomplishments?-- she grinned archly--?I'm a skillful hairdresser and barber.? ?Really! You don't say.? I could tell where this was going right away. ?Yes. I do Deanna's hair, and Sandra's too, and sometimes some of the other ladies. But I know how to cut men's hair as well. I went to cosmetology school after college, and worked in a beauty parlor for a couple of years. Would you like me to cut your hair? I know you don't have a barber.? ?Well, uh, sure!? I said. I knew I did need a haircut. ?Okay. Now?? ?Why not?? ?First we have to wash it.? She led me to the kitchen and made me lean over the sink while she sluiced warm water through my hair. Then came the shampoo, and a most delightful scalp massage as she worked the later through my long locks. When she had rinsed me and toweled me down, she led me too an all-purpose workroom that apparently also served as her barbershop. She pinned a barber cloth around my neck, combed my hair, and began to snip. I sat quietly, enjoying the sensation. I had always enjoyed having my hair cut, and having Alyssa do it, listening to her soft voice as she prattled about little nothings, smelling her scent as she moved closely about my head, was an extra treat. ?You have beautiful hair, Pat. I'm going to leave it long, but just tidy it up a bit, so you don't look like such a wild man.? At last she put away her scissors and comb and held up a mirror. ?What do you think?? She had layered it and trimmed the ends, so that it fell in an elegant cascade. ?You're trying to make me look like a girl!? I protested. ?Not a bit of it,? she replied. ?It's a unisex cut, and you can use it to look just as manly or girly as you like.? She giggled, and leaned close to give me a tiny kiss on the cheek. ?We-ell,? I grumbled, ?I have to admit it looks a lot better than it did.? ?Why would you think I was trying to make you look like a girl?? she inquired. ?If I wanted to do that, I'd put you in curlers.? ?Good luck with that!? I said. ?Hmmph! We'll see.? She removed the cloth, brushed off my shoulders, and we went back to the breakfast nook where we had eaten lunch. ?I'd better be going,? I said. ?I need to shovel some snow before the next storm comes.? ?OK, Pat. Take care and don't work too hard. See you tomorrow, maybe?? ?Sure. Thanks for lunch. And the haircut.? I departed, glad to have escaped before the talk of curlers went any farther. I didn't know why, but I had the feeling she had enjoyed making me up the other day a little too much. The winter drew to its close. The days got longer; buds began to swell on the trees and shrubs; crocusses, dwarf iris, and winter aconite bloomed in sheltered places around my house. As the snow withdrew, birds in their thousands sat in the trees or flitted among the bushes, announcing to anyone who cared to listen the instant arrival of spring and new birth. One day dawned especially fine and sunny. Leaves were beginning to burst on the trees and roses. The telephone rang. ?Hey Pat!? It was Alyssa. ?Want to go birdwatching with me?? I had been ?birding?, to use the politically correct term, a couple of times in high school, once on a field trip and once with some friends who had gotten into it. I didn't learn much about birds on these occasions, but I always enjoyed walking around in the countryside, so I said yes. Besides, I always said yes to Alyssa. When she called, I was wearing a cami, pretty white panties covered with red heart polka-dots, and sweatpants. The day promised to be unusually warm for the season, so I decided to change into shorts. I also exchanged the cami for a tee-shirt, and pulled a sweatshirt on over it. I figured that if we did much walking the sweatshirt would come off. My shorts were running shorts, girl's, of course. They were light blue, quite short, and fit very well. Not tightly, but not loosely either. I was very comfortable in them and wore them a lot. Alyssa pulled up in her car a few minutes later, and I went out to meet her. She was wearing a knee-length yellow sundress with a full, twirly skirt, and a cropped cardigan to cover her shoulders. In the back seat I saw a picnic basket and the ragged straw hat she favored on sunny days to shelter her fair complexion. ?Wow, you look nice!? I said. ?Thank you! I always love the first day it's warm enough for me to wear a dress. Now I know it's really spring. I brought lunch: ham sandwiches and apples. And there's soda and water in the basket, if you want some.? I settled into the passenger seat, fastened my seat belt, and she drove off. A few miles from our houses, in some rougher country, there was a small nature preserve, and Alyssa explained that this was the best place for birdwatching (she never said ?birding?) at this time of year. We parked at the entrance to the preserve and set forth on foot, bringing our binoculars, Alyssa's camera, and the National Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Birds, Eastern Region. We left the basket in the car, not wanting to be further burdened, but we each took a bottle of water. We walked up a slight incline on a trail leading to the woods, and soon were surrounded by Nature. Alyssa pointed out various interesting specimens as we walked, stopping frequently to look at particularly interesting individuals through the binoculars or take a photograph. Alyssa referred to the book frequently, pointing out the identifying features to me. I listened dutifully, making appropriate appreciative comments, but I really wasn't paying much attention. I was just enjoying the fine day, walking in the woods with my earth-goddess. The path continued upwards, and the terrain became more difficult. Soon I was sweating and took off my sweatshirt. ?It really is warm for so early in the year, isn't it!? I remarked, though this was my first spring in the area. ?It is,? she said. ?But you know what's really comfy on a hot day? A sundress!? She gave a twirl, and her skirt billowed out, showing some beautiful cream-colored thighs. ?I'll bet you wish you could wear a dress and be cool and comfortable. But you ca-an't!? she teased, in a taunting sing-song. I gave her a raspberry, and turned to continue up the path. I jumped in surprise when Alyssa planted a firm slap on my bottom. I said nothing, being accustomed to accept her teasing, and continued up the path, grinning a little at the intimacy of our banter. Eventually we grew tired and decided to return to the car. We brought out the picnic basket, and Alyssa spread a cloth on the grass for us to sit on. The sandwiches were yummy, and we both felt very satisfied when we finally packed things up and returned home. Back in my bedroom, I took off my tee-shirt in front of the mirror, and turned to reach for the cami I had tossed on the bed earlier. As I turned, I noticed something in the mirror over my shoulder. Oops. I backed a little closer to the mirror. My red polka-dots showed clearly through the thin fabric of my shorts. How could I be so stupid? Alyssa couldn't possibly have missed them. She knew I was wearing panties! My heart began to flutter. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What would I do now? ?Wait a minute,? I told myself. ?She doesn't care. If she did I would have seen something in her manner. But what if she does? What if she tells the other women? She won't, she's not like that. Anyway, she doesn't care. What am I going to do?? I was all in a tizzy. I paced around the room, trying to think of a way to fix it but finding none. The only thing to do was to go on as if nothing had happened, and see what she did. Finally I calmed myself enough to finish dressing. Oddly, perhaps just to spite Alyssa, I put on a sundress and went to sit on the back porch. Chapter 4. The next day Alyssa did not call, and I didn't call her either. Reversing my reaction of yesterday afternoon, I wore male jeans and nothing girly except panties. I couldn't stand the feel of men's underwear anymore. After a while, though, I began to feel uncomfortable in the jeans, and changed into the low-rise ladies' jeans that fit me best. I still felt semi-boyish in them; they weren't too obviously made for the other sex. I spent the day puttering around, doing chores, and thinking about things. The suspense was killing me, and I decided that if Alyssa hadn't called by noon tomorrow, I'd call her and ask if she needed any help cleaning up her garden for spring planting. That is what I did, because she did not call. But when she answered the phone, she sounded as friendly as ever and accepted my offer. After giving the matter some thought, I decided to wear shorts again. I had several pairs like the ones I had worn for our excursion, and I put on one of these. But this time I wore full-cut briefs whose color matched that of the shorts. Alyssa acted perfectly normal as we worked in the garden, raking up dead leaves and picking up sticks, and gradually I began to relax. After a couple of hours I was feeling pretty much myself again; and if I had shown any nervousness earlier, Alyssa seemed not to remark it. So it was a good afternoon, and by the time I returned home I was thinking that either she had not noticed my panties, or truly did not care, or at least cared enough more for me that she wasn't going to make an issue of it. The weeks went by, and the weather got even warmer, and was often very fine. I took to spending more time outside, often just walking around my property and enjoying what I had, and usually clad in a short-sleeved blouse or shirt and one of the short circle skirts that I loved. I enjoyed the feel of the full skirt billowing around me in the spring breeze. These skirts were very comfortable too, and short enough that they didn't get in the way of anything. I couldn't understand why women regarded them as impractical. Probably because of the shortness, I supposed; but I thought that, if I could tolerate anyone seeing me in such a skirt, the shortness wouldn't bother me at all. I rather enjoyed the thought of giving an onlooker a little show. Not that that was going to happen, of course. On one side my property sloped down to a little creek, with open woodland running down to the creek and to the road that crossed the creek at a right angle and went on toward Alyssa's house. I loved to wander through this little wood, looking out for birds and the other little forest creatures that inhabited it. There was an old cherry tree not far from the road, perhaps a remnant of some ancient orchard, that was good for climbing. I loved to climb it and look about the forest, or in the opposite direction over the open field on the other side of the creek, at the far side of which I could just spy Alyssa's house and garden. I particularly liked climbing trees wearing a skirt, perhaps again because I liked to imagine someone on the ground being able to see up my skirt as I climbed. ?Silly boy,? I told myself, when these thoughts came to me. And more often, ?silly girl.? I enjoyed calling myself a girl for some reason, and wondered how it would feel to hear someone else call me that. I could hear the voice in my head, saying, ?silly girl?... and it was Alyssa's voice. One day I was in my tree, standing on a branch and leaning a little forward over another to steady myself, looking out over the field, when I heard a car motor start down by the road. Somewhat alarmed, I looked over my shoulder toward the road and saw Alyssa's car drive off toward her house. Probably she had stopped to look at birds on the edge of the wood; I knew she did that sometimes. Had she seen me? I could see the road. I watched her down the road until her car disappeared around the bend that was just before her driveway. I was a little excited and embarrassed, but not too concerned; probably she had not seen me, since I was forty or fifty feet from the road, partly sheltered by trees, and hadn't been moving. But if she had, well, it probably didn't tell her anything she didn't already know. I felt a little extra thrill as I realized there was a part of me that hoped she had seen me! I climbed down from the tree and made my way back to the house. I could feel myself blushing. Just as I got the the door a gust of wind lifted my skirt high, and I had the strangest sensation that Alyssa was standing behind me. I turned about, but of course no one was there. My heart was beating a little fast, though, as I went inside. A few days later Alyssa left to visit her grandparents, who lived in another state, for a week. She had asked me to stop by every day and pet her cats so that they wouldn't feel abandoned, and see that they had food and water; of course I had agreed. The day after she left I was preparing to make my first visit, when a crazy thought came into my head. I tried to push it away, but it kept coming back more and more strongly. At last I had to give in to it, and I put on a pretty pink dress and sat down to do my hair. Although I had complained initially about the way Alyssa had cut my hair, I secretly loved it. It tended to fall into my face, though, but I found that I could keep it under control with a couple of hairclips topped with cute bows. I put these in today and regarded myself in the mirror. The effect was delightful. To complete the picture I put on a little lip gloss. Makeup was something I had just begun to play with, and putting on lipstick was really fun! Then I walked through the woods and down to the creek, and hopped across at a narrow spot to make my way toward Alyssa's house across the open field. This was exciting and terrifying. I was often in full view of the road, and if anyone had come by they would have seen me for sure. No one did, but my heart was pounding by the time I got to the house. Things were more comfortable inside. I knew that everyone knew Alyssa was gone, and I wouldn't be disturbed. The only thing I had to worry about was the journey back to my house, but that worry brought with it a strange and seductive pleasure. I said hello to her three cats, who were glad to see me. I sat on the couch and let them put their fur all over my pretty dress; after a bit I got up to check their food and water. It was delicious wandering about Alyssa's house in girl mode, and imagining her being there with me. But I couldn't quite make out in my imagination what her manner would be if she were there. Turbulent emotions coursed through me. Having checked the cat dishes, I wandered into the dining room, which usually served as a stopping place for things that were on their way somewhere else, and noticed a pile of photographs and a binder on the table. The binder I recognized as a photo album where Alyssa liked to keep her best bird pictures. I came over to see what new treasures she had found to place in it, and saw that there was also a note on the table. It was addressed to me. ?Dear Pat,? it read, ?if you have time, would you be a dear and put these new pictures in my album? Thanks! Love, Alyssa.? I opened the album to the first empty page, and began to look through the pictures, wondering how best to arrange them. Alyssa was good at everything she did, and photography was no exception. There were some excellent close-ups of local birds, taken with her telephoto lens. I came to the last picture in the pile and gasped! It was an excellent close-up of a pretty girl standing in a tree, leaning forward over a branch, her lovely flower-print panties just peeking out from under her short dress. Oh. My. God. She was such a stinker! Such a tease! Oh my God. I didn't know what to think. OK. She knew everything, and wanted me to know that she knew. But she was giving me the option of coming clean and talking with her about it, or continuing to pretend it was a secret. Really, she wasn't a stinker. Could anything be sweeter? She was too honest to hide from me the fact that she knew, but wouldn't confront me with it directly, at least not yet. My heart warmed to her even more, and a tear ran down my cheek. I filed the bird pictures in the album, but took the picture of me with me, so that she would know for sure that I had seen it. And so that no one else would. Chapter 5. You can guess how I chose to proceed. I chose to do nothing. I just didn't have it in me to mention the picture to Alyssa. Every time I thought about doing so, my tummy got all squirmy and I had to struggle to catch my breath. There was no way I was going to bring it up with her. I felt a little better when I reminded myself that I could trust her to be discreet and gentle. Could I? I gave myself a little mental slap every time that thought occurred to me. When Alyssa got back we resumed our old routine as if nothing had happened. If anything Alyssa seemed more relaxed and friendly than ever. We found ourselves spending more and more time together. Mostly busy, for our little homesteads both required a good deal of tending, but we also found plenty of time to relax. Alyssa helped me get a garden of my own started?I was a city boy and pretty much garden stupid?and sometimes in the evenings after a dinner of one of her delicious and eclectic concoctions I would read to her from the Iliad, which I had become fond of in college. One day in mid-April we sitting on a blanket on the grass behind my house, basking in the afternoon sun. Alyssa had on her usual straw hat and a long, loose dress belted at the waist with a pale blue ribbon, in a fabric of white speckled all over with little blue flowers. I was lying back on the blanket watching the play of the few little clouds in the sky, while Alyssa leaned on her elbows and nibbled a piece of grass with her teeth. No words had passed between us for several minutes, for the quiet afternoon held a magic that asked not to be disturbed unnecessarily. ?Pat,? she said at last, ?do you have a girlfriend back home?? ?Hmm?? I grunted. ?No... I did, but we broke up just before I came out here.? I didn't want to mention that my then-girlfriend had gotten just a little too excited when I won the jackpot. ?Don't you think you ought to find one? You're not getting any younger, you know. You ought to go up to the city more?go out dancing.? ?I'm happy here,? I said. And then, my voice changing a little, ?Besides, I have a girlfriend.? I turned my head to look at her, and saw her color. She said nothing for a time, but then spoke again. ?Oh Pat, I'm too old to be your girlfriend. I'm almost old enough to be your mother! Besides, I've been there and done that. Boyfriends don't work out for me.? ?You're not all that old,? I admonished her. ?You're still young and pretty.? ?So, you'll love me only while I'm young and pretty?? she teased. I gave it to her right back: ?Yep. As soon as I see gray hairs or wrinkles around your eyes, I'm off to the city to go dancing!? ?Oh you brat!? she laughed, and turned to tickle me. We laughed and wrestled for a moment, the tension broken. When we had quieted, she leaned over me a little, idly drawing circles on my chest with a finger. Serious again, I asked, ?Why don't boyfriends work out for you, Alyssa?? ?Oh... well...? She looked away into the distance. ?Men eventually try to control me, and you know I can't take too much of that. Besides, I'm ... odd.? ?You don't think I could control you, even if I tried, do you?? ?No. Nobody can control me. But I know you wouldn't try, Pat,? she added thoughtfully. ?And that's one of the things I love about you.? True to our pattern of leaving important matters unresolved, we let the conversation move to less delicate topics. It seemed we both took so much pleasure from living in the moment that it scarcely seemed important to plan, or resolve. We were content, and shied away from anything that might break that contentment. But I was soon to learn that Alyssa was bolder and less patient than I. Chapter 6. In the days that followed, I found myself thinking back on this conversation frequently. I felt that something new had awakened in me with this talk of girlfriends. I realized that since meeting Alyssa, I hadn't been thinking about girls at all, which was unusual for me. True, I had been thinking of a ?girl?--me--and I had been thinking about Alyssa, but not in quite the way I had thought of girls before. Had I been thinking of myself as Alyssa's girlfriend? I guess I had been acting a bit like a girlfriend, doing mostly the girl things that Alyssa wanted to do; and of course, sort of pretending to be a girl with my dressing. Oddly, I hadn't had any sexual thoughts about Alyssa, despite her abundant female charms. Suddenly now, since referring to her as my girlfriend, new emotions and ideas were bubbling up inside me. Dreams and daydreams beset me, of slipping into bed next to her, feeling her lips on mine and her hands on my body... and, oddly, in these dreams I found myself always in frilly lingerie or diaphanous dresses that were slowly being slipped off. . . . It was terribly strange and confusing. And then at times I would hear again her words: ?I'm... odd.? What had she meant by that? And what was happening to me? And yet, the next time I would see her, all would be carefree and natural, and I would slip immediately back under the spell of her easy camaraderie. Nothing seemed to have changed between us. However, I began to find myself more and more comfortable in my dressing, and less and less concerned about hiding it from her. It was if (though I liked sometimes to pretend otherwise) I knew that she knew all, and approved. But the possible consequences of this eluded my thoughts; and when I was with her, did not seem to matter. As it turned out, I was soon to learn in no uncertain terms that my instinct (or rather, intuition) was correct. My birthday was coming up; it would be a year since the best birthday of my life, when I had both graduated from college and learned that I was rich. The year that had intervened since then was also surely the best year of my life. Alyssa had planned an afternoon birthday party for me at her house. As usual, most of the guests were our women friends, though a few husbands were present as well. The party was a fine affair, with plenty of good food and drink, pleasant conversation, and lots of modest presents for the birthday boy. At last the guests began to drift away, until Alyssa and I were left by ourselves. We sat together on the couch for a bit, sometimes chatting, and sometimes listening quietly to the birdsong that came in through an open window. At last, I set down the glass of wine I had been sipping and rose to go. ?I'd better be off,? I said. ?Thank you for a wonderful party, Alyssa.? ?You are most welcome, and it was my great pleasure,? she answered, rising too and taking me by the hands. ?But please stay a little longer. I have one more present for you, that's just between us.? I thought I saw her cheeks flush a little as she said this. ?Well... sure!? I said. ?Though I've already got a lot of presents. I'll have to bring the car by tomorrow to get them all.? ?You won't need the car for this one,? she said. ?Wait here.? She pushed me back down on the couch. ?I'll be right back.? In a moment she returned, carrying a wide, flat shirt box or something of the sort. She set it on my lap, and sat down next to me on the couch. ?Open it!? she cried, grinning. ?What? No wrapping paper?? I teased. ?The ornamentation is inside,? she answered smugly. Something about her manner made me hesitate, and I could feel my face beginning to get warm. But I slowly lifted of the top of the box, and looked at what was inside. My first impression was, pink. And then flowers, and then more pink. I was looking at a box full of the most beautiful, little-girly girl's clothes. On top was a trim blouse in a pink flower-print fabric overlaid with gauzy lavender lace, with puffy cap sleeves. Speechless, I pulled this out and held it up; it was beautiful, and looked like it would fit me perfectly. I laid it beside me on the couch and looked at the next item. It was a circle skirt in the same design, quite short, the lovely pastels of the print softened further by the lace overskirt that covered it. I set it by too, feeling the excitement build in me but still unable to speak. The next item was a simple pink cotton camisole with spaghetti straps. Under that, a flouncy white petticoat with many layers of lace. And finally, a sheer pink bikini panty with lots of lace and ruffles around the legs and waist, and a pair of sheer pink thigh-high stockings with pretty bows in front on the leg bands. I sat staring for a while, saying nothing. ?Pat,? said Alyssa at last, in a soft and understanding voice, ?it's okay. I know everything. I know you like to dress as a girl, and I think it's wonderful! There's nothing wrong with exploring your feminine side. Besides, they're just clothes; why shouldn't you dress as you like?? ?Alyssa,? I said, with a note almost of hysteria in my voice, I thought, as my temper began to rise in my embarrassment, ?that's private!? ?Pat, if it were private, you wouldn't go prancing around your yard in a dress. Or in my house; I'll bet you were wearing a dress when you were over here taking care of things while I was gone, weren't you? Don't you think there's a part of you that wanted me to know?? She was right, of course, but I was too angry and humiliated to admit it. I said nothing, aware that my face was beet-red and I was close to tears. She leaned closer. ?Pat, I know you're embarrassed, but you don't need to be. It really is okay, and your secret is safe with me. I think you're adorable as a boy or a girl; but right now I want to see you as a girl. So go and change!? Her last words were uttered with a firm note of command, and I found myself gathering up the clothes and starting for the bathroom. I was a long time getting into the clothes. I could almost feel my personality changing, becoming more feminine, more vulnerable, as I put on each article. And yet... more safe in my vulnerability than I had been without it. It was the oddest feeling. I stood in front of the door for several minutes, turning from time to time to survey myself in the mirror, before I got up the courage to open it and come out. Alyssa was pouring whiskey into snifters. She held one up as I approached. ?Here. I thought you might want this.? I accepted it gratefully and sipped while she regarded me appreciatively. ?You look beautiful, Pat. Really beautiful. Those clothes certainly become you. Am I a fashion genius or what?? The flash of her irrepressible humor put me somewhat more at ease, but not much. But as she turned me round, made me twirl, and ran her hands over the soft fullness of my skirt, uttering small, doting compliments the while, I began to feel more relaxed, and more like her girlfriend indeed. At last she prevailed upon me to sit again on the couch, whiskey in hand, while she sat next to me, turned a little in my direction, and running her eyes over me again and again, only pausing from time to time to look into mine with a glance that was at once tender, admiring, and proprietary. ?Pat,? she said at last, ?there's just one more thing we have to do to make you look your best.? I looked up in alarm, but she shook her finger in front of me and touched my nose. ?No arguments. It's too late for that. Come with me.? She took my hand and led me back to her salon and workroom, and sat me in the victim's chair. She went to a cabinet and rummaged about, and presently returned with a box of hair-curlers. I started when I saw them, and almost got up. ?Now sit still, Pat,? she said reprovingly, pushing me back into the chair, ?or I'll spank you!? I subsided; I didn't know if she meant what she said, but I didn't want to find out. I knew that she had achieved such an ascendancy over me that if she decided to put me over her knee I would go there without a fuss. She combed and clipped my hair into sections, and sprayed it with hair spray. Then she began to roll in the curlers. I began to feel more and more like a girl as each curler went in. At last, she sprayed me again, the fumes making me cough, and then began to blow me dry with a hair dryer. After that, I had to just sit for a while, ?to let the hair cool,? she said. Finally, she began to unroll the curlers. As each curl unfurled, I had the weirdest feeling that a layer of skin was sloughing off of me, unveiling a fresh and more real me underneath. When she had taken out the last roller and showed me the mirror, I gasped in astonishment and delight! A beautiful, feminine woman was looking back at me. No make-up needed, I thought to myself with a certain smug pleasure. How to tell of what happened next? It is still a bit of a blur to me. We sat on the couch conversing, I know, while Alyssa occasionally fondled my hair and made much of me. I felt more at ease than I ever had, and at some point I lost all my embarrassment and resentment. I remember little more, but at some point I found myself walking across the field with her toward my house, entirely comfortable in my new identity. I knew I was really home.