The Latin Ballroom Dancer
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"B" IS FOR GIRL (chapter 5: "B" Is For Ballroom Dancer) free porn video
"B" IS FOR GIRL
Chapter 5: "B" is for Ballroom Dancer
I didn't have to wait until the following Wednesday to find out what
"ballroom" was. On Saturday, after breakfast, mummy told me we were going
shopping in town. "We're going to get you a lovely new dress," she said.
"For your ballroom dancing lessons."
"Ballroom... dancing?" I said. "But mummy, I already do ballet dancing."
"I know you do," mummy replied. "And now you're going to do ballroom
dancing as well. I hope you're not going to argue with me about it,
Beverly. Because the more you argue with me, the longer I'll make you be
a little girl until you learn to be good. Is that what you want?"
"No, mummy," I said. "I don't want to be a little girl at all. I want to
be a boy."
"Well, then," mummy replied. "The sooner you learn to be a good girl, the
better."
"But Mrs Templeton told me that you were going to make me be a little
girl for a whole year," I said. "Mrs Templeton told me it's called
petticoat punishment. If I learn to be a good girl sooner, will I be able
to go back to being a boy again straight away?"
"No," said mummy. "We've been through all this. You have to be a very
good girl first. That means doing everything I say, no matter what, for
the rest of the year. You will keep wearing lacy dresses and frilly
knickers every single day. You'll do all the girly things I tell you to
do."
"That's what Miss Poole said," I replied. "But mummy," I said, "everyone
knows I'm a boy. Everyone laughs at me when they see me wearing dresses
and frilly knickers. It makes me feel very sad and stupid."
"I know it does," mummy replied. " It's meant to make you feel sad and
stupid. That's why it's a punishment. It's called humiliation. Look,
Beverly, I don't like having to do this to you, but I won't stop until
I'm sure you've learned your lesson."
"Mummy," I said. "Do you love me?"
Mummy started to cry a little bit. "Yes, Barry. I do love you. But I
don't want to have to put up with the horrible, bad-tempered, violent
little thug you used to be."
"Used to be?" I asked.
Mummy nodded, wiping her eyes. "I won't lie to you," she said. "You have
made some progress since you started to be a little girl. It's only been
eight weeks, but you are already a bit nicer than you used to be. So you
see, the punishment is working."
"But I still have to be a girl until next summer?" I asked. "That's ages
and ages!"
"Yes," mummy answered. "I have to be sure that you've learned to be good,
without any arguments or tantrums. If you are good for the whole of the
rest of the year, then I'll let you be a boy again."
Once mummy had washed the breakfast things and put them away, she got me
ready to go to the shops. I put on a clean pair of plain cotton knickers,
then a pair of frilly knickers, and my bright yellow dress with the lacy
collar and puffy-out shoulders. I put on a pair of short white cotton
socks and my shiny black school shoes. Mummy tied yellow ribbons in my
hair, and brushed some mascara on my eyelashes.
"It's a nice warm day today," said mummy. "I think we can do without our
coats. In fact, it's such a nice day that I think we'll walk into town
instead of taking the car. We can cut through the park."
"Oh, but mummy," I said. "What if there are children from school in the
park? They'll see me!"
"Of course they'll see you, silly girl!" said mummy. "That's the whole
point. Everyone has to see what a cute little girl you are, Beverly. Now,
remember what I told you about no arguing."
It was a warm day, but there was a little bit of wind. It made the skirt
of my dress flutter against my legs, and I thought it felt quite nice.
When we got to the park, mummy took me straight to the children's
playground. There was a lot of children from my school there, as well as
some of the girls I knew from Brownies and ballet. Mummy had brought me
to the one place in the park where I was sure to be seen by as many
children as possible.
"We've plenty of time, Beverly," mummy said. "Run along and play with the
other girls."
I walked towards the swings. Tracy Otley was on one of them. "Hello,
Beverly!" she called. "Come and play on the swings!" I sat on the one
beside hers, and began to swing backwards and forwards. When I went
forwards, my skirt flew up towards me and showed my knickers.
"That's a very pretty dress you're wearing," Tracy said. "Rosemary
Stirling says your mummy makes you wear a pink tutu at ballet lessons
every week."
"Rosemary Stirling's got a big gob!" I replied, crossly.
Tracy laughed. "Rosemary says you are a good ballerina. She says you're
going to be in the pantomime as the forest fairy princess. Is that
right?"
"Yes," I said.
"I'm sure you'll be a beautiful fairy. Rosemary said you're going to
start ballroom dancing lessons, too. Is that true?"
"Yes," I said.
"Are you going to wear your pink tutu for those, as well?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"So what will you wear, then?"
I glared at Tracy. "Mummy is taking me to the shops to buy me a new
dress," I said, quietly.
"Ooh, that's nice!" said Tracy. "You are a lucky girl, Beverly."
"I'M NOT A GIRL!" I shouted.
"Look in the mirror," replied Tracy, jumping off the swing and running to
the slide. I stopped my swing and stood up to follow her. But then Nicky
and Ronnie came with five of their friends and gathered round me in a
little circle.
"Hello, gorgeous!" said Nicky, with a big grin on his face. All the boys
were grinning as well. "Show us your knickers, then!"
"Leave me alone!" I said.
"Awww!" said Ronnie. "The cute little girl wants to be alone! What's the
matter, Beverly? Have you been wearing dresses so long that you've
forgotten how to be a boy?"
One of the other boys, Richard Alderton, flicked up my skirt with his
hands. "Perhaps he really is a girl," he said, laughing. "Perhaps he's
had his boy bits chopped off!"
"Have you?" said another boy, Peter Goldsborough. "Have you had your boy
bits chopped off, Beverly? Show us!"
"Get lost!" I shouted. I didn't like this at all. Then the boys began to
push me one way and then the other, and I felt frightened. "Please leave
me alone!" I said, starting to cry.
"Please leave me alone! Please leave me alone!" the boys repeated, in
girly voices. "What are you going to do?" asked Ronnie. "Hit us all with
your handbag?" All the boys burst into fits of laughter. Then someone
pushed through the crowd of boys. It was Tracy Otley.
"Leave her alone!" she yelled. "Or I'll tell on you all to Mrs
Templeton!"
"Look, boys!" laughed Nicky. "Beverly has to get girls to fight his
battles for him now. He's just a sissy pansy!"
I was just about to hit Nicky when mummy called to me from the far side
of the playground. "Beverly! Come on, sweetheart! It's time to go and buy
your new ballroom dancing dress!"
The boys stood aside to let me pass, whispering "Pansy, pansy" as I
walked by. Tracy Otley watched me leave the circle of boys, and then ran
off to join her friends on the climbing frame. I crossed the playground
to where mummy was waiting. She asked me if I had had a nice time in the
playground.
"No," I said. "The boys were bullying me. I was frightened."
"Ah," said mummy. "Well, now you know how it feels. Perhaps you'll think
twice about bullying anyone in the future. Come on, let's go and buy your
new dress."
Mummy held my hand and took me out of the park. Nicky and Ronnie and
their friends followed us all the way into town. We walked past the City
Exhibition Centre, and along High Street and then up Northumbria Road.
The boys were still following us.
"Here we are," said mummy, taking me into a shop. Inside the shop was
lots of brightly coloured dresses and leotards and tutus, as well as
tights and shoes and wigs. A lady came up and spoke to mummy.
"Hello, my name's Vivienne," she said. "Can I help you?"
"I hope so," mummy said. "I bought a pink tutu here recently. You may
remember I told you all about Beverly."
"Oh, yes!" said the shop lady, looking at me. "I remember completely. I
hope things are going well?"
"Quite well," said mummy. "Though there's still a long way to go. Anyway,
now I'm looking for a ballroom dress."
"I see," said the shop lady. "Well, I'm quite sure we can sort out your
little girl with something really cute."
"I'd like her to try on lots of different dresses, if that's all right,"
said mummy.
"Of course, madam," replied the shop lady.
"Oh," mummy went on, "and if it's not too much trouble, would it be all
right if some of Beverly's friends came in as well? They can help her to
choose which dress to buy."
"Certainly, madam," the shop lady said. "Bring them in."
I watched in horror as mummy brought in Nicky and Ronnie and their five
friends. The shop lady arranged some chairs for them to sit on. "Sit
down, boys," said mummy. I'll take Beverly into the changing room, and
send her out to model the dresses in front of you. You can tell her which
one you like the best."
Mummy took me into the changing room. The shop lady came in with some
dresses and hung them up on a rail. Mummy took one off its hanger, and
told me to take off my dress. "Mummy, please!" I said, "Don't make me do
this in front of all the boys."
"No arguments," said mummy. "You'll only make things worse for yourself.
Here, put this on and let me look at you."
Mummy helped me into a bright yellow dress with a short fluffy skirt and
a tight top part which was covered in sparkly things. "Go through and
show the boys," said mummy. "Walk up and down in front of them, with one
hand on your hip, and then come back here."
I went out of the changing room and through into the shop. As soon as the
boys saw me they began to laugh and clap, making kissy noises with their
mouths. I could feel myself going red with embarrassment. I walked past
them like mummy had told me to, with one hand on my hip, and then went
back to the changing room.
Mummy changed me out of the yellow dress and into a purple one. This one
had big puffy sleeves and a short flouncy skirt, and was covered in
sparkly things. Again I had to go into the shop and walk up and down in
front of the giggling line of boys.
Next was a very bright green dress, with a short lacy skirt and lots of
white beads around the top half. The boys seemed to like this one a lot.
Jeffrey Brampton even wolf whistled.
I tried on one dress after another, then modelled them in front of the
laughing boys. There were other people in the shop, too, who looked at me
and smiled. I felt very stupid.
Mummy made me keep wearing more and more dresses in every colour. I must
have tried on at least twenty, and the boys shrieked with laughter every
time I walked out in front of them.
"Now, boys," said mummy, after I had tried on the very last dress. "It's
time to choose. Which dress do you think Beverly should have?" All the
boys shouted out for their favourite. "Yes," said mummy. "I thought you
might go for that one! It does make Beverly look such a pretty little
girl, doesn't it?"
The boys had chosen the pinkest, frilliest, girliest dress of all. The
top part, which mummy said was called the bodice, had no sleeves and was
all lacy and covered in tiny flowers and shiny beads. The skirt, which
was made of layers of floaty material, stuck out to the sides and reached
down to my knees. A big pink bow was fastened on the waist of the dress
at the back.
Mummy thanked the boys for their help. "You've been here a very long
time, boys," she said. "So be sure to tell your mummies where you've been
and what you've been doing, won't you?"
"Oh, yes!" said Ronnie. "We'll make sure everyone knows that Beverly has
been trying on dresses all morning!" And the boys ran out of the shop,
hooting with laughter at what they had seen me doing.
Then mummy asked the shop lady to bring some shoes. I tried on three or
four pairs of shoes. They all had two inch high heels, and I found them
very hard to walk in. "Don't worry," mummy told me. "You'll get used to
them soon enough. When you're a big girl you can wear even higher heels!"
Mummy paid for the dress and the shoes, and bought some shiny brown
tights as well. "These tights are a lot like the one mummy wears," said
mummy. "They'll make your legs look lovely when you're dancing in your
ballroom dress. I'm sure Mrs Wilsthorpe will be delighted when she sees
you next Wednesday."
Monday was the start of my fourth week as a schoolgirl. I still hated
having to wear dresses and frilly knickers and pretending to be a girl
all the time, but it didn't feel quite so strange anymore. And I wasn't
being anywhere near as naughty as I had been when I was a boy. In
English, Miss Winchelsea told me I was making very pleasing progress, and
Mr Nairn even smiled at me in geography when I gave him the right answer
to a question.
Mrs Duffield still didn't like me, though. At dinnertime she gave me a
plate of cold sausage, beans and chips. She also put a slice of apple
tart on the same plate, saying it would save me having to go back for
dessert.
"I've got no tomato ketchup," she said. "So you'll have to made do with
salad cream instead." She poured a whole bottle of salad cream over my
dinner. Then she said, "Do you want custard on your apple tart?"
"No, thank you," I replied. But Mrs Duffield plopped a ladle of custard
on my plate anyway, and handed it to me. I took it from her, and
curtseyed. The dinner tasted disgusting, but I ate it all, because if I
didn't then Mrs Duffield would tell mummy that I had been naughty again.
On Wednesday night, after tea, mummy got me ready for my first ballroom
dancing lesson. After I had put on my tights and knickers and dress,
mummy brushed some mascara on my eyelashes and pencilled in my eyebrows
and coloured my cheeks with pink blusher. Then she took me outside and
made me pose for more photographs for my album. "You look very pretty,
Beverly," said mummy. "I'm sure the boys will be queuing up to be your
dance partner."
"What?" I said.
"Oh," said mummy. "In ballroom dancing you dance in couples. Didn't you
know?"
"Mummy, no!" I cried. "You're not going to make me dance with a boy, are
you? Only girls dance with boys! I'm not a girl, mummy! I'm a boy! I'm a
boy!"
"Beverly!" mummy shouted. "Calm down! I thought you were starting to make
good progress towards being a good girl. Mrs Templeton says your teachers
are very happy with you at school, and even Mrs Duffield is impressed
with you at Brownies. But this little outburst makes me doubt whether
you're ever going to be a good girl."
"But mummy!" I screamed. "I can't dance with a boy! What will everyone
say? They'll call me a sissy and make fun of me!"
"What, even more than they do now?" mummy replied. "You only have
yourself to blame for that. Don't you wish you were never such a naughty
little boy?"
"I will be good, mummy!" I cried. "I promise. Just please don't make me
dance with a boy!"
"Now, listen to me," mummy said, firmly. "You are a little girl, whether
you like it or not. And if that means you have to dance with a boy, then
that's something you'll just have to put up with."
"But?"
"Oh, stop panicking, Beverly!" said mummy, taking my hand. "I doubt
whether any of the boys in the class will want you for a partner. You'll
probably just have to dance with another girl. Now, let's get going!"
When we got to Mrs Wilsthorpe's dance hall, I counted fifteen girls and
only six boys. I didn't know any of them. "Mummy," I said. "None of the
girls have dresses like mine."
"No, dear," she said. "But Mrs Wilsthorpe asked me to make sure you come
to lessons every week wearing something pretty, so that's what you'll do.
You'll be the prettiest girl in the class. Now, off you go. The class is
about to start. I'll pick you up at half past eight." Mummy left, along
with the other mummies.
Mrs Wilsthorpe clapped her hands together. "Hello, boys and girls!" she
called out. "Welcome to Beginner's Ballroom Dancing. My name is Mrs
Wilsthorpe. I know we'll have a lot of fun learning lots of beautiful
dances. First we need to make sure everyone has a partner. However, we
have more girls than boys, so I'm afraid some of you girls will have to
dance together. To start us off, I'd like you to form two lines, boys on
this side, and girls on the other."
I went to stand with the girls, and the boys stood opposite. "Now," said
Mrs Wilsthorpe. "I like to follow the tradition of having the boys choose
their partners. But before we do that, I want Beverly here to tell you
all about herself. Come forward, Beverly."
I took two steps forward. "Hello," I said. "My name is Beverly
Bassenthwaite. I'm really a boy, called Barry. I have to pretend to be a
girl and wear dresses because I was a very naughty boy. When I'm a very
good girl, I can go back to being a boy again."
I felt very embarrassed, and began to cry. The girls in the class
giggled, and all the boys snorted with laughter.
"Thank you, Beverly," said Mrs Wilsthorpe. "You can step back. Now boys,
please take your partners, one at a time. I want you to walk across to
your girl, tell her your name, give her a little bow and take her by the
hand. Girls, give your boy a little curtsey. Of course, boys, I don't
expect any of you will want to pick Beverly!"
I didn't know why, but I felt very upset when Mrs Wilsthorpe said that
she thought none of the boys would want to pick me. I already knew they
wouldn't, because it's sissy for a boy to dance with another boy.
Especially when one of them is wearing a bright pink dress and frilly
knickers.
One by one, the boys walked across the room and chose their partners. The
last boy was quite tall, with black, curly hair and blue eyes. He looked
along the line of girls, as if he was making his mind up which one to
choose. Then he walked straight across to me.
"Hello," he said to me. "My name is Tristram Deveral." I thought Tristram
spoke like a pirate. He gave me a little bow, and then held out his hand.
"Tristram," said Mrs Wilsthorpe. "You did hear me say that Beverly is
really a boy, didn't you?"
"Yes, Mrs Wilsthorpe," Tristram replied. "But I don't mind. I like
Beverly. I think she's very pretty, and I'd like her to be my dance
partner. If that's all right."
Mrs Wilsthorpe turned to me. "How do you feel about it, Beverly?" she
asked. "Do you want to dance with Tristram?"
All the other girls and boys went very quiet, waiting to hear what I
said. I really did not want to dance with a boy at all. Mummy had told me
that none of the boys would want to dance with me anyway. I wondered if
mummy had fixed it for Tristram to ask me to dance with him. Perhaps
Tristram was the son of one of mummy's friends.
I knew mummy would be angry with me if I refused to dance with Tristram.
And I knew I would still have to go on being a girl until next summer.
Longer, if she thought I was not a very good girl by then. Mummy would
keep finding ways to? what was the big word she had used? "Humiliate",
that was it? she would find more and more ways to humiliate me. I had no
choice.
I looked at Mrs Wilsthorpe, and then up at Tristram. "Yes, Mrs
Wilsthorpe," I said. "I'd love to be Tristram's dance partner."
Tristram smiled and took hold of my hand. We walked over to where the
other couples were already standing, and Tristram put his arm around my
waist. It felt very strange being touched by a boy this way.
After the rest of the girls had been paired up, Mrs Wilsthorpe taught us
how to dance the waltz. I had to put my left hand on Tristram's right
shoulder, and he held my right hand in his left. Mrs Wilsthorpe got us
all to stand in a big circle, and then showed us the steps. It was quite
an easy dance, with only a few different moves done over and over again.
Tristram and I both learned it very quickly.
Mrs Wilsthorpe watched us all carefully, helping anyone who went wrong or
got mixed up. We did the dance a few times without music, to get used to
the steps. Then Mrs Wilsthorpe played some old fashioned music on a
cassette tape recorder, and we danced all over again a few more times.
At half past eight the lesson ended. Mrs Wilsthorpe opened the door to
let our mummies in. My mummy came in and went to talk to Mrs Wilsthorpe.
All the dancing had been very hard work, and I was quite tired.
"You are a good dancer, Beverly," said Tristram, as he watched for his
mummy. "I'm glad you decided to be my partner."
"Why did you pick me?" I asked him. "You knew I was a boy. It's sissy for
boys to dance with other boys. Why didn't you pick one of the real
girls?"
"I don't know," he replied. "You just looked so awfully cute and pretty.
Besides, I didn't really fancy any of the other girls. I just thought you
and me could have fun dancing together. How old are you, Beverly?"
"I'm seven," I replied.
"So am I," said Tristram. "We've just moved here, from Cornwall. I start
at Chessington Road Junior School next Monday."
"That's my school," I said. "We might be in the same class."
"I hope so," he replied. "Do you have a lot of friends at school?"
"No," I told him. "I don't have any friends. I used to be a very naughty
boy, so no one wants to be my friend."
"No one at all?"
"Well," I said, "Sometimes I play hopscotch with a few other girls at
playtime. One girl said she would be my friend, but I told her not to be
so stupid."
"That wasn't a nice thing to say," said Tristram.
"No, it wasn't," I replied. "None of the boys will be my friend, because
it's sissy for a boy to be friends with a girl."
Tristram laughed. "But you're not really a girl!" he said.
"I know!" I said. "But look at me, Tristram! I'm a boy, pretending to be
a girl. I wear dresses and knickers every day. Mummy puts ribbons in my
hair and makeup on my face. I play with dollies at home, and go to bed in
a nightdress. Mummy threw out all my boy clothes and toys. I've been a
girl for weeks and weeks, and I've almost forgotten what it's like to be
a boy! Any boy who made friends with me would be a double sissy!"
"I must be a double sissy, then," said Tristram. "Because I'm your
friend, Beverly."
Just then a lady came over to us. "Hello, Tris," she said. "Have you had
a nice time?"
"Yes, mum," replied Tristram. "This is Beverly, my dance partner. Beverly
goes to Chessington Road Juniors. We're in the same year."
"That's nice, dear," said Mrs Deveral. "What a lovely dress you're
wearing, Beverly. You're a very pretty girl."
"Thank you," I replied, and did a curtsey.
"Come along, Tris." she said. Tristram smiled at me.
"See you on Monday, Beverly," he said, and followed his mummy out.
Then my mummy came over. "Mrs Wilsthorpe has been singing your praises!"
she said. "You seem to have a natural talent for dancing. Who were you
just talking to?"
I looked at mummy. "His name's Tristram Deveral," I said. "He's my best
friend."
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