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"Ladies-Who-lunch: In The Cosmic Bubble" The second week of August,1961. Summer was coming to a close and fall was just around the corner. The schools were being readied as the grade school kids grumbled, while the college set was spending the last couple weeks with friends and starting to pack up and plan for their coming year. Sitting at the kitchen table the steam drifted lazily up from the coffee cup as Joyce read the short letter sent by the university registrar concerning Lane's upcoming fall semester. She finished then quietly laid the letter over the freshly opened envelope addressed to a Mr. Lane Benson on the center of the table and looked to Lane seated on the other side. He noticed her flawless, long, gloss red nails, the tinkle of her jewelry and the perfume in the air. But Joyce wasn't smiling. "So, that's it then. Now what are you planning on doing?" she asked in a serious tone as she sat back, crossed her shiny nylon clad legs with sheer whispering zip, smoothed her skirt then folded her arms under her chest. Lane had been an engineering student and although this was to be his third year he had just been notified that his grades weren't up to scratch. And not having the where-with-all in math and the sciences to continue to the next level he was done, washed out. The other programs leading to medicine and the law were equally rigorous and out of reach as well. There was a chance to bring his grades back up in another field such as english, sociology, the humanities and the like but what kind of job would that provide even if he finally managed to graduate? Not only that, he had gotten a late start in college and was now nearing his mid twenties. Lane was a peaceable enough young man, quiet but friendly even though he was mostly a loner. His mother wanted him off the farm as soon as he finished high school as the heavy work didn't seem to suit him. His step-father had no use for him and during the past year Lane's mother secured her divorce and had chosen to relocate to another town. With Lane being more baggage than she could afford she'd wanted him in college so he could hit the streets with a degree and start some kind of productive life once he graduated. Her sister Joyce gladly offered him a place to live until and during college in return for him helping her around the house. There would be mowing lawns and trimming hedges and in the fall sweeping leaves and in the winter shoveling snow. He would also help around the house helping keep the place clean and maintained, painting here and there and fixing this and that. She started teaching him the basics of home cooking and even made the offer of a small stipend to help with his expenses and with her in her early fifties now the extra help around her large house at the edge of town was more than welcome. But this idea, this plan was nearly three years in and now, things were in a real bind. There weren't many guys his age or any age for that matter around the area, mainly just older couples and retired people. Joyce's late husband had been an engineer himself and had actually sold a couple mechanical design patients. It was a shame he wasn't alive to help Lane along but being an average type and not a go-getter Joyce felt even that help would have been for naught. He kept the house and property nice and helped keep the living space clean. In addition to cooking she'd taught him how to wash clothes and to iron and keep a house going. Would a degree in home economics provide future employment? Doubtful she thought. The letter indicating the failing grades was indeed a sticky wicket. But there was another. One of those "quiet problems" that's better left unspoken, and in Joyce's case also not dealt with. It really wasn't worth her trouble and bringing the issue to light would only evoke embarrassment all around. If left alone once Lane was gone this would pass and it wouldn't be her problem anymore. She would deal with it that way. But then her thoughts continued. Joyce was one of the old set that came up from just past the turn of the last century. She started out as what is known today as a "girly girl." And living through the classic era when everyone dressed and had deportment it was just the standard lifestyle. But once married of course Joyce never had to actually work. She never had children and maintained only a few lady friends and in her circles she did the church meetings, the bake sales and the raffles for charity and such for something to do outside the home but apart from that it was just her and a her half dozen lady friends. Vintage ladies of leisure, ladies who shop, ladies who visit salons, ladies who lunch to sip tea and coffee and talk about the latest hair styles and fashions. Her "ladylike" job was being a socialite. If you're old enough you've seen them, we all have. In the hustle and bustle of the city they're there, part of the citizenry like everyone else like the barber, the grocer, the pump jockeys at the gas station, the paper boy, the kids in the park on bicycles or playing with their dogs or the other folks going about their daily lives. But few are in their inner circle. Few actually deal with them apart from the stylists, dressmakers, sales clerks or waiters. They are the wives of the well-to- do men who have many other things on their minds. Their wives look the part and do their part by maintaining this social order, this family pedigree. The strict, tight curled hair sets, the heavy vintage makeup, the pearls and dangle earrings, the seamed stockings and patent leather heels, the elegant car coats, the white gloves and patent leather purses dangling over bent arms, the jewelry that shines and "tinkles" as they move and the specter of floral perfume that always follows with them, the gloss red manicures match the pedicures when wearing open toes shoes and also matches the gloss red of the lipstick. You can hear the creak and stretch of the strict foundation garments underneath as they move in their seats or reach for an item on a shelf. They feel the taut garter straps under those expensive, rayon lined dresses and the rustling swish of the nylon and taffeta and satin under-slips as they slide against their strict foundations and they hear the familiar "shick-shick-shick" of the sheer nylon hose that shines on their hairless, Naired smooth, perfumed and powdered legs as they mince and wiggle along the dress and lingerie racks or past the hosiery stands of the town's finest department stores. And then finally to return to that little bistro for one last coffee and a chat before getting in their cars for the return trip back to their opulent homes, some have their own drivers but Joyce was content driving her own late model black Lincoln Continental town car with the suicide doors. Time stayed the same for what seemed like ages through the 30's, the 40's and 50's. But as the decades continued to pass and the styles and dress and music changed along with most everything else the ladies who lunch seemed to live in a type of cosmic bubble, a holdover of a bygone day, a standard of class that was there maybe only for reference now, but it continued on and would for sometime to come until society itself would erode into the Orwellian dystopian horror of what we now have today. Time also seems to have a note of grace in the fact that for the "ladies who lunch" by the time their end of days were approaching and they had finally been consumed by the ages, they would be forever remembered like the pristine porcelain dolls on the mantle shelves that would neither endure nor suffer the future that awaited all the rest. But that is a distant future. For today it's only another bright late summers day, early August 1961. But what of Lane? Lane gathered his letter then quietly left the kitchen. Joyce poured another cup of coffee then took her seat again to look out on her well manicured back lawn. He couldn't finish school and a lesser degree would have little impact. And then there was the "problem." The problem of her coming back from her Saturday hair set and lunch that first time to notice that someone had been in her dressers and closet. It was almost undetectable but Joyce was a stickler with her things and everything was always just so, always. A pair of nylon stockings not folded properly in the hosiery tray, a folded garter belt with a single strap left in disarray, a dress in the closet turned wrong way on the hangar and the shoes on the floor seemingly moved in place from where they had once been before. Small, nearly imperceptible things. It started as a mere curiosity, possibly an error in haste on her part. But as time went on it continued. Girdles refolded wrong and clean and pressed full slips with fresh creases that hadn't been there before. She noticed some of her shoes felt slightly looser too, bringing another facet of knowledge to her that Lane had been trying on her shoes as well. He was small and slight for a young man of his age, seemingly stuck in mid high school size while all the other boys were much larger young men now. Joyce kept track of her things in her closets and dressers and on her vanity. He'd tried her lipstick once or twice and her powder puff container had been moved slightly. And now and then a complete pair of stockings would disappear, evident that he'd been wearing them and had gotten a run in one of them. The corsets, cinchers and heavy foundations were left mostly alone, just unfolded to look at then quickly replaced. The fancy gowns were left alone too, but the day dresses, the rayon and nylon and satin Dior styled dresses had been sampled along with several of her double layered nylon chiffon baby dolls and matching peignoirs. She was older and had a larger figure but it seemed that Lane could easily zip into her dresses and fit into her delicate nighties. It seemed that he was getting to be quite the expert in ladies things, her things. But what could Lane accomplish in life, especially now that it was apparent he also had an interest in women's things? If such a revelation ever surfaced what woman would have him? What would an employer think, what would his few friends think of such a person? She remembered coming home one afternoon, Lane was on the couch watching television and rifling through a TV guide. He seemed a bit nervous as she passed to return to her room. And to this day she swears to herself upon entering her bedroom and setting her purse on the dresser she caught a glimpse of her floral patterned rayon house dress still moving, tilting ever so slightly as the hangar seemed to twist on the rail. Then she remembered this was the dress she often had to have Lane unzip for her as the long back zipper often stuck mid-back where it was nearly impossible to reach. She thought of bringing the subject up, about the lined floral rayon dress with Lane now fumbling on the couch trying to look relaxed but she figured he must have had to have been a regular Houdini to get undressed and out of her room before she returned. He knew her schedule, it rarely changed but this day she had returned early, he must have heard her car pulling into the garage. Then she thought of Neil Henderson. And in her always sharp mental state she quickly calculated that she could get two birds, solve two problems for the price of one. At her age Joyce was more than content to be one of the ladies-who- lunch. Of her other six lady friends two were widowed, two were divorced while the last two remained married to upper class husbands as always. Neil Henderson was one of those upper class types. Divorced, he was now on the lookout for another suitable wife. Many divorced men of today stay single and count their blessings and losses and then move on but this was a different age, a time when the picture perfect lifestyle of the American Dream and family had to be maintained. Particularly at this level of social strata. Joyce was intelligent and came up from a strong social background, and with her ultra-feminine classic looks a very suitable "Gaboresque" type to help the Henderson family line continue on. Joyce had met him at several functions and during her shopping excursions and he had stopped by her table while the ladies had lunch. But Joyce was set in her ways, she'd mentioned that twice with a dismissive smile. Mr. Henderson glanced around the other equally feminine upper class ladies at the table and took notice of the four sans wedding rings but aside from the smiles and quiet giggles that seemed to be it. He had his eye on Joyce. Maybe he could chose a younger lady, but the bobby sockers and bubblegum popping types just wouldn't do. Maybe it was that these ladies were older, set in their ways in a life of strict femininity with straight seams, flawless makeup and nails and not a hair out of place. Maybe he sensed the power these older ladies had, a power that would soon vanish for women as time went on and they opted to burn their bras then decided to be more butch and macho and become well, men. That wouldn't do for Neil. He picked up the coffee and lunch tab for the ladies with a smile and a wink then went on his way. But of course the ladies noticed. The clean shave, the burgundy silk tie with gold collar clasp, the manicured fingernails, the Rolex watch under the French cuffs under the tight pinstripe of the black three piece suit and the spit shine on the classic Freeman Wing-Tip shoes. Joyce had passed on any idea of a date but she and her friends knew Neil well having met him long ago through their husbands and other associates. But still, as Joyce sipped her coffee the strange thoughts she'd had earlier began to coalesce. Then the days continued on. Of course Lane was as afflicted by Joyce as Neil was, but for a different other-side-of-the-fence reason. He noticed the strict femininity as well but Lane's taste went far deeper. He always heard her nylons zipping as she walked, the creak of her stays, the errant rustle of her skirts and dresses. He could even tell the difference in her lingerie without seeing it! The nylon slips always sounded smooth and silky but when he heard that crisp, louder silken wisp echo from under her skirts he always knew she was wearing one of her taffeta slips or petticoats. Rayon slips sounded similar but it was the exhilarating rustling high pitched "whistle" that always told him that she had on her taffeta lingerie. By now lane was an expert. All those nylon and rayon lined outfits and coats, the full makeup, the hair sets, the dangle earrings and of course the pearl necklaces filled his thoughts. And then his favorite, the new style Hanes nude support pantyhose she?d recently started wearing, the sheer nylon stockings, plain or seamed always gartered taut high on her legs as she teetered on her high stiletto heels which were almost always black patent leather. And then the long line brassieres, the strict full panty girdles with the shiny white satin panels. Then for going out for the evening for an even sleeker figure the back lacing corsets and cinchers. He?d actually been asked to help lace Joyce in once or twice. It was nothing in the day really, only slightly more than having her ask him to zip up a dress and finally comment on her appearance as she smoothed everything down in front of her dresser mirror and checked her tight hair set with the palm of her hand just before sliding the straps of her purse over her arm and gathering her white nylon gloves as she turned and minced out of the room on those high stiletto heels as he followed along to see her off at the door for the evening. He could see how the strict foundations shaped her under her tight lined dresses and skirts and he also heard the difference as her silky nylon and taffeta and satin lingerie slips slid and brushed against the tight foundations underneath. To Lane it was a perfumed symphony! This was indeed the feminine limit, he?d remembered the 1950?s but for Joyce and her friends this style was continuing merrily on. Lane could tell by the times that ladies and men?s styles were starting to change, to become more casual. Fewer hats and ties lately, fewer suit coats and leather soled dress shoes as an every day look for men and fewer ladies with hats and nice high heels and seams and petticoats as well, more ladies slacks from the Capri style and flat patent shoes and fewer strict hair sets and the classic vintage makeup style was starting to fade into history. It was a slow change being only 1961 but it was on the way. Lane took note that Joyce and her friends seemed oblivious to the change and stayed the same as always in that "cosmic bubble" of theirs. The amount of work to look like that on a daily basis, never a chipped nail, never a run in a stocking nor a hair out of place must have been unbelievably time consuming, to a point that the ladies-who-lunch basically did nothing more than look exquisitely feminine! That was their station in life, their goal, their "socialite" lifestyle. He assured himself it was definitely a type of lifestyle, and for some unknown reason one they all seemed to relish. Neil was older and in his way, he?d realized the same thing. The school year started, the days became cooler and fall was in the air. Lane continued living with Joyce as always but with him out of school and not seeming ready to find any kind of suitable employment she knew continuing on as is was pretty much a moot point that now made little sense. He?d started sweeping up the errant leaves on the drive and the walks. She enjoyed the help but to be honest, she had the money to hire her work done, Lane had been there just there to finish college. She didn?t need a live-in. But lane was happy where he was, and he did provide a service for staying there. He was busy working on something to get his future going but without words they soon realized that wasn?t happening. And while Joyce was out doing her ladies things Lane was home. Of course he?d tried to swear-off on his visits to that boudoir of a master bedroom but that wasn?t working either. Lane knew full well that this wasn?t just an experiment or a phase anymore but rather an addiction, and one that wasn?t going away. As time passed he seemed to want and then need even more! He had tried the makeup and a dash of perfume but he was terrible with makeup. And even with his fine features and baby smooth skin he still only came off looking like a clown. And he had to be careful, not to use too much of this or that, not to leave any spills or lipstick or mascara covered Kleenex?s around to be found. And although his hair was long for the time there was no use in trying to style it himself. Hopeless. He was getting quite adept at walking in Joyce?s highest heels though, it seemed to come quite naturally. He loved getting into her tight eight strap garter belts and ladies lace trimmed nylon briefs and after smoothing on a pair of her sheerest beige seamed opera hose he?d garter them tight, the creamy beige welts smoothed wrinkle free then pulled taut against the wide garter straps. He?d slip into one of her baby doll nighties too, the ones with double layered nylon chiffon with the shiny satin edging. He?d slip on the matching peignoir too and sitting on the edge of her bed he could feel the dryness in his open mouth and hear his breaths, his heart pounding in his ears as he slipped on each of her high heeled stiletto pumps in that empty silent bedroom, the tight nylon stockings shining in the light now, the feet slipping easily into the gleaming black leather of the stiletto pumps. He?d smooth the gowns down then begin his walk around the bedroom. The walks began tentatively but Lane had experience now, getting up to a feminine mincing speed had become second nature. He felt the wispy nylon chiffon baby doll fluttering and flowing as he moved, and how it brushed against his upper thighs. Then as he walked further and began to mince just like Joyce did he began to hear that classic sound coming from himself! As the mincing straight forward steps continued and with the slight wiggle he heard that "shick-shick-shick" zip as he felt the stockings begin to rub against his upper thighs and then mid calves and all the while he could feel the ebb and pull of the sturdy garter straps at the top of the stockings that held the welts tight and the seams razor straight. At the end of the room near the closed window sheers he?d turn, the gown would flutter and whirl around, the nylons would zip loudly, and then that feminine metronome sound would once again echo through the room as the nylons "shicked" and shined again in the room light while the pink satin edging of the nylon chiffon baby dolls shined as well as the matching lace trimmed nylon rhumba panties when those were added to the ensemble. His head spun, he felt dizzy and nearly overcome as he stopped to hold on to her dresser, he wobbled on the heels slightly for just a moment before continuing another near breathless round through the perfumed room. He wanted to try more but time after time he just couldn?t work up the nerve. Until finally, in his fetish induced euphoria he simply couldn?t continue and had to quit. His hands would still be shaking, his open mouthed breaths jagged as he quickly but carefully took everything back off and remembered where everything was supposed to be placed and folded. His blue jeans and T- shirt were on the chair by the dresser as always, the sweat socks and tennis shoes stowed underneath. As he changed back he wondered how long this time, how long had he been able to enjoy this sensation. With his head still in the clouds he looked to the clock on the night stand to note that only eight minutes had passed. Eight minutes. Lane returned to the living room and switched on the television to let the tube warm up, he then grabbed a bottle of Coke from the refrigerator then returned to watch a show so his nerves could unwind once again, like an astronaut moments after a successful splashdown, or the final wave from the referee as the loud bell signaled the end of the last round in a winning fight. He wondered now, he always did. His legs looked sleek and ladylike in the nylons and heels. But he always noticed the thin, blondish hair that always matted under the sheer stockings. He was nearly hairless but what little leg hair he had always caused the stockings to pull at the hairs on his skin. He wondered if he dared to try shaving but the thought always ended there. And then he always had the added angst that he could never seem to wear enough! He?d gotten good with the nylons and heels and had worn a nightie and a skirt and dress or two and over time as Joyce had found out he?d been through quite a lot. But for Lane there just wasn?t the time to do it all and he knew there never would be. And he knew he didn?t have the skills to pull off the entire look anyway. It was an absolute mental quandary. Joyce had been taught as a child and then she?d had another forty years of practice. What would that be like he wondered in heady thought. All those layers, all that silkiness, the swishy sensations from head to toe and from the skin out? Being totally hair free from the plucked eyebrows to the tips of his pedicured toes, being powdered and perfumed. And then being able to do it at will for as long as he wanted? What about a total lifestyle just like that!? He saw no urge nor point in wanting to be a woman, but he knew full well that was the very prerequisite for his needs. He certainly had no liking for men of any kind though. But the ladies-who-lunch seemed quite content, being in their "cosmic bubble" talking about fashion and hair sets and the sheerness and shades of stockings and the newest in high fashion shoes. They dressed as they pleased to satisfy themselves, did what they wanted, didn?t have to work, and rarely if ever spoke of men or children during their near daily chats as they enjoyed their seemingly endless days. Yup! Overall? That, would be the pinnacle, the very ultimate, the perfect job! Perfect except for poor Lane who?d drawn the wrong ticket in the cosmic lottery. A most brutal punishment for a condition he didn?t need and certainly never asked for but nonetheless one that he was unfortunately stuck with. The thoughts dogged his days and often ruined his dreams at night. He?d see a good looking woman when friends would point her out and the first thing he?d look for is to see if she had on the right kind of nylons and proper lingerie, and of course he could never mention any of that or anything else about this Jekyll-and-Hyde existence, yet another facet of this curse. Yup, he was just plain stuck. He likened it to being lost, adrift on a boat in the ocean delirious from thirst while all about was all the water in the world, water he couldn?t drink! But the thoughts continued without end. The full makeup, the hair set and all the painted nails and then being forced into feminine shape by the strict white foundations and then being in the lingerie and the dress. And what about the car coats and the scarfs and the purses? What about going out, actually going outside for a walk maybe? Or maybe just staying home and being able to luxuriate around the house all night, for a whole evening just like that. But to what end? It was always back to the heavy jeans and T-shirts and sweat socks and tennis shoes. He knew as usual it was only a thought, a personal tease, a personal torture that seemed to get worse almost daily and one he?d never be able to shake. He changed the channel as he sipped his Coke and came across a western movie he?d seen before and then he happened by a teen beauty pageant with the girls all dolled up in the satin and chiffon gowns showing off on the runway like the dancers in all that nylon chiffon and those hair sets and makeup, smiling and twirling every Sunday night on the stage of the Lawrence Welk show. He watched them mince and wiggle on their heels as the gowns and dresses swayed with each step as they smiled their gloss red lipsticked smiles and did the pageant wave as the crowd whistled and clapped. Lane switched the big black and white TV off, he took his soda into the kitchen and picked up the morning paper to finish the comics he?d started that morning. Joyce returned in another half hour none the wiser, or so he thought. Supper followed and after Lane did the dishes he watched some more television before bed. Just another quiet evening. "Lane? Lane dear? Come help give me a hand with this zipper would you?" Lane heard Joyce?s voice from upstairs down the long hall as he finished the breakfast dishes a few days later. He dried his hands and headed for her bedroom imagining it was just another ladies day out as usual. Lane immediately noticed she was in that lined, floral rayon dress. "This zipper is stuck. Help me unzip it would you? I?ll wear something else then drop this off at the cleaners to be repaired on the way to the salon." Joyce said with no different inflection of voice than she usually had, even though Lane would be there when she removed the dress. He stood behind her, he grasped the zipper stuck between the shoulder blades. He pulled down to no effect then he twisted the zip back and forth and finally got the zipper to raise, he then held the material tight then quickly pulled the zipper all the way down as the high pitched "whisking" sound filled the room. Joyce breathed a sigh of relief. Lane heard the nylon lining rustle and the rayon swish as she leaned slightly forward and slipped it off. He also heard the lining whistle over her lace trimmed white nylon full slip as she tugged it past her bust and over her wide hips. The dress swished again as she stepped out of it then pulled it up to toss it on her bed. She minced on her heels to the walk-in closet to select another outfit for the day. Lane noticed the shiny nylons. Her hair and makeup were done and he noticed her dangle earrings and could smell the perfume in the air as she looked through her volume of dresses as the satin lined hangers slid across the metal rails. "Which dress should I wear. Or should I wear a nice skirt and blouse today?" She mused as she turned to Lane. "Y...you know me. I...I?m not much of a fashion consultant aunt Joyce," he said with a trace of nervousness already in his voice as Joyce stayed steadfast. She swished a full skirted day dress from the closet in a whirl then returned to her bed to set it down. "Oh come now, you?ve seen me dress, seen how my other lady friends dress, you certainly must have an opinion, don?t you dear?" She continued as she returned to her dresser and began rummaging through the large dresser drawer pulling out more lingerie and slips and a petticoat or two, one of which was the gleaming white taffeta type he knew the sound of quite well. She motioned him to sit on the bed while she continued. She then unzipped the side of her tailored, lace trimmed white nylon full slip. She then crossed her arms then gathered the lace trimmed hem then pulled up and wiggled slightly and as the nylon shined in the light and zipped over her sturdy white panty girdle and long line brassiere as she swished it up and over her head. She turned it right side out then tossed it on the bed with the floral dress. Lane instantly noticed her foundations, the stays under the cups of the sturdy brassiere, the long row of hooks at the sturdy back, the little red rose bud flourish sewn in between the ample cups in front, the gleaming white satin panels of the tight, smooth girdle and how the welts of her garter hose were cinched tight and pulled taut under the lace trimmed long legs of the panty girdle. Lane stayed quiet but he felt the rumblings of excitement at seeing Joyce this way. She picked through more lingerie and came away with a lace trimmed white nylon camisole and quickly swished into it. A mid- thigh length pair of white nylon petti-pants came next, she stepped into them, they whistled as she swished them up her smooth nylon clad legs. He noticed the blue satin ribbon trim at the fluted flounce of nylon that went around at the end of the legs, a bit like an old fashioned bloomer but these were the newer tap pants variety. He noticed the heavy white nylon gleam as she pulled them up high on her waist then smoothed them out. He even noticed the little pink satin bows on the outside thigh of each leg at the side of the white ruffled nylon edging. "Toss me the petticoat dear." She said without any excitement. Lane hesitated but complied. He felt the cool stiffness of the shiny white taffeta petticoat in his hand as he swished it up then handed it to her. He watched her step into it then wiggle it up and over her hips. The bottom four inch flounce was also done up with the blue satin ribbon all around and on the side another pink satin ribbon was sewn in, this one more pronounced, larger than on the tap pants. She turned to look in the mirror as she smoothed her slips down. Lane started feeling weak. "I...I was just finishing the dishes. M...maybe i?ll finish in the kitchen then watch the morning movie," Lane said after having been silent so long. But she only continued as she grabbed her full skirted dress and unzipped the long back zipper. "Won?t be a moment, you need to zip me up you know." She said as she swung the dress open then stepped into it. She swished the print plaid dress up, the lined wide pleated skirt rustling as she slid her arms through the short sleeves. It looked like a vintage dance dress of sorts, all done up in a shiny patterned rayon taffeta. The white taffeta petticoat made the large skirt of this day dress flare even more as she turned in front of her mirror. Lane then zipped up the long back zipper, he watched as the material tightened and fitted close to her feminine shape. He quickly hooked the clasp at the top of her neck as she gathered then did up the two inch wide self belt until it was a snug perfect fit. "This dress is larger than I thought," Joyce mused looking at herself in the mirror. She turned. "What do you think?" "It looks okay. Nice like all your other stuff I guess," Lane replied. Joyce moved to the side of her large bed and sat next to Lane. She swished her skirt up to reveal her smooth gleaming nylons. "Do these stockings match you think?" "Sure, I guess if you think so," Lane nervously replied as she swished and fluffed the large skirt out and over her legs with all the rayon and taffeta rustling and swishing. "This dress is a bit large for me. I bet it would even fit you!" She said as she smiled and leaned back on the bed on her elbows as she seemed to check his physical dimensions. There they were now, at the far end of the block at the edge of town in a large house on a large quiet treelined lot. Upstairs and at the back of the house in Joyce?s very feminine master bedroom. All alone. She was sitting back looking him over, she touched her hair set with the palm of one hand then fiddled with one of her dangle earrings giggling and then laughed with a smile at her thoughts. Her purse was on the dresser, her car keys out and ready to go but for some reason she stayed put. Of course a mere seven years later when women were still women, we all remember the film "The Graduate" the back enclosed patio and wet bar area, how Mrs. Robinson sat with her legs up on the footrest of the barstool, nylons in full view as she smiled and giggled as she surveyed Benjamin Braddock like a Black Widow as she luxuriated in all her feminine power. And then up in her daughters bedroom when she stripped down to that leopard bra and slip making an offer that never should have been. Just like now. "Do you think this dress would fit you dear?" she teased again. "N...no aunt Joyce. I...I?m a boy and I wouldn?t have any interest in stuff like that," Lane blathered in dismissal saying what he had to say. The reddish blush now added to the nervous demeanor as Joyce began looking over the lingerie still on the bed, she knew better. She gathered a long nylon stocking then quickly spun Lane around and tied his wrists and before he could complain all he could do was "mmmfff, mmmfff" In a wide eyed gasp as she wadded up a pair of ladies, lace trimmed white nylon brief panties and filled his mouth! Then another pair until Lane?s cheeks were puffed and the lace trim was visible bulging through his lips. She gathered a sheer white pair of nylon panties and pulled them over his head, she giggled still being able to see his wide, glaring eyes through the sheer nylon. Another long beige nylon stocking came next. She gathered it, rolled it up then quickly swished it over Lane?s head and began pulling it down and continued until the stocking was gleaming tight over his knob-like head, the welt pulled down around his neck. "You just look lovely dear," She giggled as she centered herself on the edge of the bed. She swished her large skirt and slips up at the same time she pulled Lane down and had him kneel on the floor. "You just relax now, aunt Joyce knows just what you like don?t I sweetie?" She said as she pulled him close then slid down on the bed slightly. She took the long dangling leg top and reinforced stocking foot from the back of his neck then threaded it through the stocking that was tied around his wrists. She then pulled until the stocking zipped tight and Lane?s head was pulled back tight, chin high. Her plaid taffeta dress and slips rustled loudly as she swished the hem up. She began pulling him forward now, his one eye at the edge of the sheer white nylon panty glaring wide under the tight nylon stocking as he blubbered nearly silently with his puffed cheeks. He saw all the lace trimmed white nylon lingerie he?d seen her just put on and then as she pulled tighter he smelled her perfume then heard the nylon zip and felt the warmth of her nylon and girdled thighs as his cheeks slid between them and finally she wiggled and he felt his chin brush against her girdled mound, lightly at first then tighter and tighter still until he could feel his chin working between her vaginal lips under the tight tap panties and panty girdle. And then another fluffing swish and it became dark! He heard her moan with an excited feminine sigh at the same time he heard the swish and rustle of the dress skirt as the white taffeta petticoat swirled and zipped and whispered over his nylon encased head as Joyce widened her smooth legs she swished and worked the dress completely over Lane?s head. She pulled him closer now. He felt his face slide up her nylon thighs tighter now and felt his chin being pulled still farther back until she?d moved in tight with a feminine urgent and pleasured gasp until his chin was tight! She moaned again and now having him just where she wanted him she released his nylon leash then held his head in place with tight hands over her voluminous, perfumed dress and skirts while his "Mmmfffing" "glubbing" twitching gasps could be heard from under the silken layers as she worked his chin against her mound! She turned her head from left to right as she gasped at the sensation, that urgent need of stimulation. Still holding tight she looked up and continued. "That, that?s it baby, just relax now and let aunt Joyce do all the work," she cooed in a pleasured breathy tone as one then another hairpin came loose from her strict hair set. The nylon zipped, the crisp white taffeta rustled and zipped over Lanes head under the patterned full skirt! He felt her long, nylon stockinged legs flex and heard them swish as she moved, they swished again when he felt her thighs tighten around his head until she was able to lock her ankles and continue to hold her knees and thighs tight. And then Joyce, holding Lane?s head began to twerk, to hump to rub tightly on his chin getting the full effect as she rubbed against him, his chin moving up and down, up and down the long white nylon tap panties and the girdled slit. He struggled slightly but she continued. She moaned with pleasure then cooed in stuttering gasps as she again rubbed his chin up and down, her cleft just where she wanted it. Her thighs became warmer still, her legs began to tremble as she pulled the skirt and petticoat tighter until finally he could actually feel her twitch against his chin! She swooned with pleasure then momentarily shook slightly but all over. Another few rubs and she seemed to vibrate again, then another smooth working to wind down until finally she let go. Lane slid to the floor on his knees as she swished her dress back down with a rustling taffeta and rayon zip. She quickly pulled off his nylon stocking and panty hood and removed the panty gag but she wasn?t done yet. She noticed that Lane was now rigidly hard in his pants! She quickly marched him into her large bathroom and before Lane knew it she?d put two nylon stockings over his little erection. With his wrists still tied she leaned tightly against him then leaned him over the sink and began stroking him. The sheer nylons gleamed on his erection, the second stocking making the whole sensation even slipperier! "Mmmmmmm, Oooooh... That just feels sooooooo good doesn?t it??" Joyce cooed as she worked Lane. He was already painfully excited so just a little more stimulation would be all it would take. She worked him gently, sliding the sheer nylon up and down in and out so Lane would last longer and so he could experience every nuance of the sheer slippery fabric. He gasped as he humped back at the sensation in a bit of an involuntary twitch and then Joyce looked on with a satisfied smile as Lane became weak in his knees then came, spurting his little jets of sperm into the feet of the nylon stockings. She giggled at the effect and her efforts then pulled the stockings away and tossed them into the second sink then added the last stocking that she?d untied from his wrists to the sink with a few other pair. A jigger of Woolite and a swish in the cool water and all the nylons were soon soaking. After hanging dry on the shower rod they?d all be as clean as new. Joyce then turned on the water of her large bath. "Get undressed" she said almost firmly as she added some floral perfumed bubblebath powder to the flowing water. She then took out large pink bottle of depilatory! Lane protested but it wasn?t long till he was soaking in the hot bath. It seems that Joyce wasn?t in a hurry to go out after all. But the pink goo in the bottle bothered him, and after living there as long as he had been and rummaging through her things he well knew what it was. Hair remover! Joyce returned to her room to let him soak. "You soak for a while and I?ll be back," She assured with a still breathless tone. "L...Look aunt Joyce. I didn?t really need a bath, I took a shower this morning," he explained. But after a few minutes she only pulled the drain plug and let all the water out. She also slipped on a pair of rubber gloves then had him stand in the tub. Lane watched her pour a large measure of the pink hair remover into her gloved hand and as she came near to start on his chest he pulled away. Lane had always been short and slight but in having just worked his less than average erection off over the sink she now noticed he was nearly devoid of any real body hair! Lane was not very manly, not at all. She?d noticed he rarely needed to shave and only had a thin, wisp of whiskers but nonetheless she continued on slathering the pink goo on his slender thin chest and trim waist. She then started on the hair on his legs. True, he hardly had any hair there either, just a blondish wispy scant hair but she had her plans and once she was done he?d be totally hairless! "What are you doing?" Lane groaned and choked a gasp as Joyce continued. "If you want to wear my nylon stockings you simply must have smooth, hairless legs. Don?t you think?" She said as a matter of fact as Lane began to squirm at the idea that Joyce had somehow figured out he?d been in her things, he also began to squirm at the warming, burning sensation of the cream that was now dissolving all of what remained of his body hair. "But aunt Joyce, I never...I, ...I?m s...sorry aunt Joyce," he blathered his admittance stopping short of a lie. "You?ve been in my things for years, isn?t that right Lane? You?ve been in my nylons, my lingerie, my makeup and my dresses, even my nighties haven?t you? And you?ve even been wearing my high heels as well, isn?t that right?" She quizzed. Like she knew, Lane was a good kid, honest and just and true and loyal and all the other traits you could want. So, now he was stuck as they say, and at the mercy of his aunt Joyce. As he stood in the tub and she continued slopping and smoothing and working the pink gooey lotion onto him from head to toe. "Do you want to be a girl sweetie. Is that it? Do you want to be a woman?" She teased slightly but with an edge to her voice now. "N...no!" Lane gasped in return as his mental gears locked up and his head spun. "If you wanted to dress as a woman why didn?t you come to me and ask for help princess?" she reasoned. No young man would "ask for help" for anything like that! It was unthinkable! But now it was a nice added tease she was able to use on a now quite compliant Lane. "Maybe I should call your mother, or does she already know her son is a little sissy, hummm?" Joyce cooed as she went on in her "Robinsonesque" rhetoric teasing and taunting in full command of her feminine power as Lane grimaced and writhed at the thought and the continued burn of the hair remover. Joyce knew that her sister was a tomboy all the way, the cotton panty and blue jean type who only had an outfit or two for special occasions. That was her life out on the farm. Joyce got her start by marrying above her station and soon took up the job as society matron and socialite. Lane wouldn?t have had anything to try on at home she reasoned and giggled slightly and then laughed as she thought about the virtual cornucopia of temptation that was only a few feet away in her bedroom in the full walk-in closet and in the two large dressers whose drawers brimmed with all manner of hosiery and lingerie, women?s things. She had the thought that if she?d wanted to dress, here would have been the place to start, with a friendly aunt. She was the "friendly aunt" now, but offering to help Lane was really a non-sequitur, it did not compute. But, she had the thought that maybe over time it would. Lane was a more than willing subject, at least he would be because she knew his weakness now. Only a few years prior Christine Jorgensen had made that change over in Denmark. She was short and slight at first too but when the press and photographers were there to see her off that plane she sure didn?t look like a man anymore. Maybe Joyce would try to give Lane what he seemed to want, to help him dress up and dress properly, but she knew that would make no difference. He wouldn?t get tired of it but maybe she could scare him off? Or maybe she could shoot for that "cure" but as she?d read there would never be a cure. No, any real "cure" would be at the other end of the spectrum. After his hot bath, his Nairing and a hot shower to clean off Lane was totally hairless and smelled like lilacs from the bubblebath. His hair had been shampooed with more of the lilac smelling scent. He?d been totally dried off then dusted with a feminine scented powder. Joyce then marched him back into her bedroom. "Well sweetie, what to you want to wear? A pretty dress or just a blouse and skirt?" She said as she looked Lane over while he stood there clutching the large pink terrycloth bath towel around his slender, hairless waist. His head spun! "Well?" Lane thought to himself, I?m caught. Had to happen sooner or later I guess, but here we are now. He felt the redness on his cheeks begin as he tried to beg off any "dressing" effort by Joyce by saying he didn?t need any dress or skirts. But standing there all hairless he knew something was going to happen. "We?re all alone at Joyce?s place, nobody knows." Lane?s thoughts wandered. "What if I ask for help like she said? What if I say I want to try it all, to wear everything?" The same everything he had always wondered about, dreamed about. The whole feminine way! But following the silent societal edict he kept silent. Joyce moved her things on the bed aside. She folded up the floral rayon dress with the bad zipper and put it in a plastic lingerie bag then set it aside for her next trip into town. She gathered a new pair of Hanes Alive nude support pantyhose, a new pair of opera length stockings, a sturdy garter belt, ladies white nylon brief panties and a tight girdle briefer. She found a pair of long, white nylon pants liners and a matching white lace trimmed camisole. She pulled the pink bath towel away and tossed him the filmy white nylon ladies briefs. "Well, let?s get started sweetie." She stood there until finally Lane did indeed slip into the panties. Joyce then opened the package and slipped out the new pair of support pantyhose. Well, at least she didn?t hit him, or get on the phone to his mom, Lane thought. Yeah, this was going to be a punishment. She?d get him dressed up a little, call him "sissy" and "princess" a few times and she?d laugh and tease then promise never to tell as long as he stayed out of her things and by the end of the day that should be it he figured. A minute or two later he was standing up from the bed as Joyce was finishing smoothing the legs and top of the new pantyhose and pulling up the waistband. She clipped the white 6 strap garter belt around his waist and as he sat back on the bed she rolled up each of the new sheer beige nylon stockings and worked them up his legs then gartered them tightly to the six dangling straps. Lane knew the girdle was next but then he noticed Joyce coming near with a large white bra! "Lean forward" she said. She?d been planning this! Lane gasped to himself. As she put the white satin straps over his shoulders he instantly felt the weight of the flesh colored breast forms that had been slid into pockets in the new bra! He felt them sway and jiggle as he heard her clasp each of the four hooks at the back band of the bra then adjust the straps until the forms were properly supported and standing pendulously out. Before he could question she slipped a white, lace trimmed nylon camisole over the bra and adjusted those straps to fit as well. She had him step into the tight, white girdle briefer with the white satin front panel. But before she pulled it up she slipped his garter belt, pantyhose and panties down. Lane gasped to feel Joyce pulling his little "winkie" back tightly, she then pulled and worked his little testes up and pushed them deep inside. With him still pulled back tightly up went the panties, the support pantyhose with the panty top pulled up high and tight on his waist. The garter belt was pulled up tight, the stockings smoothed taut to the six white garter straps and finally the girdle panty briefer was pulled up tight and high on Lane?s waist, the white satin diamond panel at the flat front gleaming in the room light. There was no trace of any bulge now, not even Lane?s tiny bulge. Only a smooth "V" shaped mound was visible. Joyce had him step into the long white nylon pants liner and when they were up and smoothed the white lace trimmed nylon cuffs hung down to perfect ankle length. "Go ahead, put your jeans back on but leave the shoes and socks," Joyce said as she looked him over then motioned to her chair where his clothes were. He sat on the chair and slipped into his jeans. But this time the heavy fabric swished effortlessly up his nylon encased legs. He pulled them up tight and zipped them and did up the belt and still saw the smooth front, no bulge. Joyce showed up from her closet dangling a pair of heels from her index finger. She had him sit down again. His nylon clad feet slid easily into the black patent ankle strap pumps. She buckled the T-straps tightly as he teetered on the full five inch stiletto heels! Amazingly to Joyce, he stood up without a wobble and without tripping. "My, my, my. I see you?ve been practicing," Joyce said as he then took a few steps around the room, a bit like a high wire act at first but soon he was walking with ease and in some of her highest heels! He gathered his T-shirt with the "Rat Fink" logo and managed to get it over the large brassiere and it slid down effortlessly over the white nylon camisole. He was just tucking the shirt in when Joyce noticed and had him stop. "Rat Fink? A Rat Fink T-shirt over my nicest camisole? I don?t think so." She guffawed at the look. After another trip through the closet she had him out of the T-shirt and jeans as well. She put him into a black, high waist pair of hostess pants that fit perfect length wise, proving to Joyce that Lane was indeed a petite man. She then took out a white nylon blouse and slipped it on him, it had bubble sleeves and long, four button barrel cuffs with white satin buttons and buttoned up the white satin buttons in back then tied the small white bow in the front just below the high neck collar. She did up the bow then tucked him into the nylon lined hostess pants then pulled them up tight, zipped up the back zipper then buttoned the two back buttons at the three inch wide waistband. She parted his hair in the middle and it flowed down to just past his ears. He had a good start and soon it would be at least shoulder length when she thought she could have something done with it. At least he didn?t have a crew cut like most other young men. She added a spritz of her perfume and some face powder and a light colored lipstick but nothing more. Not this time. The face powder went on flawlessly due to having the Nair removing any errant wisps of whiskers he once had. He was totally smooth now. She then led him out of her bedroom so he could spend the afternoon test driving all that finery. Joyce marveled at Lane?s trim front and his "V" shaped tight muff at the crotch of the hostess pants and how they looked as he minced around the living room, his head in a daze. She also marveled at how the sheer white blouse looked and how she could easily see the bra straps and the satin camisole straps and the lace trim around the front of the brassiere. A classic and very feminine look. She wanted to take him back to the bedroom and add the red lipstick and mascara and eyeshadow, maybe some earrings and a pearl necklace and maybe switch over to a real full slip and a fully lined dress. But she knew that by the way lane looked now that he was seemingly at his limit. "How do you feel now princess? Do the clothes feel nice for you? Do you feel feminine?" she cooed in her feminine lilt as if she?d just dressed a niece instead of a nephew. "They feel, feel tight and sli... slippery I guess," Lane gasped as he continued around the living room. He refrained from answering if he felt "feminine" or not. And with his mind aflame at being found out and feeling like a fish out of water he certainly couldn?t relax in any way. But Joyce giggled, she knew his secret now, and she?d already pressed his buttons, and he didn?t look all that bad, not at all. She felt a sense of both excitement and the power of control now. The whole live-in arrangement had now moved to a higher level. She got up and walked the living room with him, showing him how to mince and wiggle and how to turn and sit and hold his arms and how to stand chest out. He seemed to be an exceptional student already! The lesson and the mincing went on for over an hour. Looking to the clock Joyce could see it was time for her coffee break downtown. Lane choked a smile and a dry swallow as Joyce went off to change. She?d offered to let him continue to lounge around the house and to even try on a dress or two while she was gone but Lane?s excitement had been more than satiated for the day, he felt spent and weak. After Joyce changed out of her wrinkled dress she fixed her hair and makeup and left with her purse on her arm mincing on her heels as always while Lane returned to the living room in his blue jeans and Rat Fink T-shirt and tennis shoes, the powder and lip gloss already wiped away. But he still felt the smoothness of his now totally hairless body with only that trim little "V" remaining below his eyebrows! Joyce was alone today. This was a different cafe, more like a quiet restaurant as she took her seat in one of the back booths. Neil Henderson in his suit as usual took the other seat. The waiter brought water and menus. They ordered a light lunch. Joyce had let on to the possibility of dating Neil, that was why he was taking her to lunch. They?d met at the ladies-lunch that time then she?d had a bit of a chat a few days later with him that seemed to show a slight interest. This was a continuation. But she never actually said "she" was going to be his date. "We like cooking out, grilling hot dogs and burgers in the early evenings, we sometimes do chicken and steaks, a bit of a last hurrah for summer on the patio. Why don?t you stop by, there?s always plenty of food," Joyce said with her bubbly effervescence. She then mentioned that her nephew Lane was still living with her. She?d started the story and then continued on, being washed out of college, being in his mid twenties, no girlfriend, no real friends at all to speak of. Quite the yard and house keeper and she mentioned she?d taught him to cook as well. She?d mentioned Lane?s "condition" in passing for a second time. Poor Lane?s condition, not saying it was weird or even a bad thing but she?d always smile then continue on with the conversation. Neil shifted in his seat in the booth. He shook his head slightly like something didn?t line up, which it didn?t. Like he and Joyce were on different channels. What did Lane have to do with anything? "We get together and you move out, he can stay and continue working at my place if he wants," He said, not yet close to seeing true depth of the problem or Joyce?s plan. The lunch and drinks were served and Joyce and Neil relaxed and enjoyed the atmosphere. The topic of conversation changed subjects. The lunch ended and Joyce went on her way to do some window shopping while Neil returned to his office suite. She?d made sure to talk to him further so they?d made another date. Burgers on the patio? Maybe later. But meanwhile they?d meet a couple more times and even share a call or two. "But I have to mow and rake up more of the leaves. I don?t want to get behind. I can?t wear all this under my jeans and I can?t wear this blouse with the flower trim on the front neckline," Lane grumbled to Joyce in her bedroom. He was in full lingerie once again but back in his jeans and instead of the silky white blouse she lent him a ladies T- shirt blouse that had a floral motif around the wide neckline. She plucked the tennis shoes from his hands and handed him another pair of her high heels! "I can?t go out in this top and I sure can?t do yard work in heels like this," Lane gasped. He gasped once again when he finished dressing then minced on his five inch high black patent leather heels across the kitchen to look out the large glass doors. His heels clicking loudly on the white tile floor. He stood at the doors to see a service already busy mowing and raking the yard. "If you?re going to dress like that you certainly can?t be doing any yard work anymore," Joyce said as she came in and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Since the grill is clean and ready to go I?d like you to do a bit of a salad and make up some hamburger patties for supper tonight. There?s some coleslaw and potato salad in the fridge and you can heat up a can of those Boston baked beans. We can have chips too. Nothing fancy," She assured. Lane cringed at the answer to the slightly fussy meal when Joyce mentioned that her friend Neil had been invited. "So set the table in here for three," she said mentioning they didn?t need to sit out in the breeze or deal with mosquitoes. And Lane was relieved to learn that he could change back into his all guy clothes again, but no kid T- shirts, something nice with a collar, and more dressy shoes like his loafers, not the tennis shoes. Neil arrived with a bottle of red wine and the dinner went as planned. Neil and Joyce were out on the yard enjoying the late afternoon sun, she was pointing out her new shrubs and flower bushes as Lane wiped down the grill area and shut things down. Lane was cleaning up in the kitchen when Neil and Joyce returned to the patio chairs. "He does quite a job with the cooking and cleaning don?t you think?" she said. "...Yeah, he even seems to move a bit like a woman too," Neil mentioned for some reason that caught him slightly off guard as he noticed Lane through the window wiping down the kitchen table and working at the kitchen sink. But late while Lane was changing back from his feminine outfit for the evening Joyce had made a few more changes. "He is short and slight, a nice kid but slightly feminine isn?t he? Not totally feminine, just here and there, ya know?" Neil wondered with the only statement he could conjure at the moment. Joyce giggled as she sipped her wine. But Neil was still after Joyce, his mind was on anything besides Lane of all things. "All done in here, you folks need anything else? I want to catch the movie that?s starting," Lane said standing at the open glass doors. For some reason Neil looked over and instead of seeing white sweat socks or any socks at all he noticed the beige color, the shiny beige color of woman?s stockings at his ankles! "We?ll have the last of the wine I guess and that will be fine dear," Joyce said. They watched as Lane brought out the bottle then returned to the house and closed the kitchen door. He switched off the light as he left for the living room. Joyce moved in. "Lane isn?t really feminine, but I?ve been working with him. He?ll get better." She giggled. "I?ve shaved him smooth from head to toe, I?ve replaced all his shorts with ladies, lace trimmed nylon panties. I?ve given him a pedicure in a nice gloss red. I started having him wear nude support pantyhose as well. During the day I keep him in a bra with forms and I keep him in high heels so he will get used to them," Joyce chuckled. "I plan on starting him wearing women?s nylon gowns and nighties to bed pretty soon too. I?ve already been working with his cooking and his movements and feminine deportment and soon he?ll be getting used to dresses and skirts," she assured. "But he?s in pants now. And a man?s shirt," Neil added. "Well we don?t need to scare him off now do we dear? But under that shirt he?s wearing my white, lace trimmed nylon camisole. He does adore the feel of nylon," Joyce cooed. He was washed up at school and couldn?t find a descent job so here he was. And Neil already knew about him being in her things, trying on her clothes and such so learning about the panties and pantyhose didn?t throw him. He did notice the shine of the stockings. But it was strange. He felt for some reason he wanted to just call it a night and leave. It was obvious that Joyce was set in her single ways so that was it. But she continued on, mentioning a plan that no one need ever know about. Neil guffawed, and gasped in disbelief. But Joyce stopped him in his tracks with her quiet voice at the patio table as he leaned in. "How old are you Neil, 52? I passed that three years ago myself," Joyce added. "I?m set in my ways and so are my other lady friends, well most of them anyway. Any one of us could be the lady of your social calendar but what fun is that at our age? Of course you could look for a younger woman, but women these days? We know the odds of that." Joyce shuddered. "And how long would your new wife put up with the stiletto heels, the seamed stockings and the petticoats and dresses and outfits you like?" She added. "For todays woman? Let?s be real. They?d say: ?who needs that anymore?? But what if you could have a proper lady Neil. A "woman" to satisfy your needs as the socialite you really want? A person nearly tailor made for such a life, and, most importantly, one young enough to look nice for decades?" Women were changing, fast! So were the men but the girls nowadays had no class or deportment. What could be done? Joyce mentioned the "cosmic bubble" then she mentioned Christine Jorgensen among other things. Lane wasn?t about to change, it was in his DNA. He wasn?t suited to ever be much of a man anyway and would be much better as a proper vintage housewife and a socialite. They both had money and influence and they knew a whole lot of things could be accomplished quietly. How many people are really around or associate with the socialite ladies? Not many. They travel in rare circles usually careful enough not to stir up any intrigue or controversy lest it tip the gravy boat as they say. Lane could be worked with. Joyce assured. And in time and with effort "Laine" would blend in to the strictly feminized social strata and actually find the feminine limit he?d always dreamed about. She?d studied his condition, she knew who he was and what he was and also, with her help, just what he could become. "He could be one of the Ladies-who-lunch. I would continue working with him to bring him up to speed while at the same time you two could get to know one another better," Neil sat back and guffawed again, in awe at the mere idea. "And do what? Take him fishing? Toss the football around the back yard?" Joyce didn?t take the joke, she was deadly serious. He?d go to the salons, the shops, the church bake sales and the like and he?d be seen on the lucky man?s arm whenever needed. He?d blend in, nobody would ever know or have the slightest inkling that the new Mrs. Neil Henderson was anything but a real and proper lady. Neil could have the vintage housewife of his dreams, and the "cosmic bubble" would continue on unchanged by the outside world. This was indeed a very rare opportunity. It was almost a near certainty a chance like this would never happen again. Neil shook his head at the thought and said he?d had enough wine. Joyce walked him through the house and out to his car. "You?ve been lovely company. Why don?t we do this again?" Call me anytime," Joyce added as he drove off.