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From: "Rebecca A." <cyan@anon.nymserver.com>
Subject: New TG: Marcia and Me 9/?
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Hi

This is only the second story I've ever written.  It's still incomplete, 
but since I'm stuck around part 14 and have been for a while now I 
thought I'd send it off and see whether people like it enough for me to 
continue.

Hope you like it.

Becky

***

Chapter 9.  Monday to Wednesday.


Next morning I woke at my usual time, then remembered what Mom had said 
and rolled over to go back to sleep again.  But a few minutes later Mom 
knocked on the door and came in when I didn't respond.  She sat down on 
the end of the bed and shook my leg under the covers.

"Just because you don't have to go to school doesn't mean you don't have 
other things to do," she smiled.

I tried to squash the pillow down over my head, as though I wanted to go 
back to sleep, but she pulled the sheets back and slapped me on the ass.  
"Up!" she commanded before she left the room.  I got up and went to the 
bathroom to shower.  When I came back I saw she'd laid out some more 
clothes for me on the bed.  I looked at the black skirt.  Somehow I 
really felt like wearing a pair of jeans today.  Maybe I was getting 
tired of the experiment?  I put on the skirt anyway.

My hair was more difficult to do anything with.  It was a bit flat on one 
side, and looked as though I'd slept on it strangely.  I tried to brush 
it out, but that seemed to take out the curls that had remained from when 
Marcia had done it.  Eventually I gave up, and figured I'd ask Mom to 
help me with it, so I tied it up behind my head.  Strangely, even without 
make-up, I still looked pretty girlish.  I stopped trying to figure that 
out and went downstairs.

Mom told me she had to go out for a while, but that there were all sorts 
of things that needed doing around the house while she was gone.  
Inwardly I groaned, but I knew it was only fair.  I usually helped out 
with most of the cleaning around the house, and I hadn't been doing my 
fair share over the past few weeks, so after she left I set to work.  I 
had the house looking pretty great by the time Mom came back.

"Time to go shopping", she said, as soon as she'd come through the door.  
I was puzzled.  Wasn't that what she'd been doing?  She got me to go 
upstairs and put on some mascara, then took my hair out and re-brushed it 
before putting it back in a headband instead of the ponytail I'd been 
wearing it in.  Then we set out.

We went to a nearby Mall.  As we entered I saw two guys looking me over, 
and I smiled to myself and ignored them.  I felt good about the way I 
looked, and I'd stopped being afraid that people were gonna think I was a 
boy.  Well, at least for the time being.  It seemed everyone was pretty 
clueless as far as that went.  

Mom took me immediately to a store that I knew Marcia shopped at for a 
lot of her casual stuff.  We browsed through a few racks of clothing 
until I realised she was actually planning to buy me a few things.  I 
protested that we didn't have the money, and she told me not to worry 
about that, that she'd been out taking care of that earlier in the day.  
I protested a little more when she told me to go try some stuff on, but I 
needn't have worried too much as all the cubicles in the fitting room had 
little latches on them so no sales assistants could burst in while I was 
dressing.  We left the store with a couple of pretty nice casual blouses 
and tops, two casual skirts and a sweater.  I was worried about where 
this money was coming from as we sat down to have lunch.  I was pretty 
hungry because I'd skipped breakfast, so I was tempted to have a burger, 
but Mom saw the look in my eyes and ordered salads for both of us.  She 
laughed when she saw my slight disappointment, but told me that having to 
watch one's weight was one of the things about being a girl that wasn't 
so easy.

I noticed the boys I'd seen as we entered again.  They were across the 
mall pretending not to be looking.  I mentioned them to Mom and she stole 
a quick glance.  "Kind of dorky", I said dismissively, and she laughed 
out loud.  

"Well, aren't you the choosy one"  she smiled.  I blushed again, and we 
began talking about how teenage boys could be so awkward and transparent 
in the way they related to girls.  The conversation was kind of weird, 
really, because neither of us even considered the whole time that I was a 
teenage boy.  I enjoyed talking to Mom about it, though.  She told me 
about her dates before she met Dad, and how dumb some of the guys had 
been, and how she probably settled on him because he was the first guy 
who had been able to look her in the eyes instead of the breasts.  I 
could kind of understand that, because Mom was pretty stacked, but it was 
funny the way she talked about it.

We lingered over lunch.  It was a rare thing that we ever ate out.  I 
didn't know what Mom had done about our money situation, but she 
obviously wasn't worried about it and I decided not to ask so she could 
enjoy lunch.  

Mom told me she had an interview for a job early next week.  I told her 
that was great, though I was secretly worried that it would be like the 
others she'd interviewed for and she'd be disappointed when they gave it 
to someone else.  Not that Mom hadn't been great at her old job, but when 
you've been out of work for a while maybe it's harder to convince people 
to hire you.  That's what Mom had said a few weeks earlier, anyway.  

While we were in the middle of talking about the job she was going for 
she suddenly looked at her watch and said we had to get going.  I went 
off to the ladies room while she took care of the cheque.  I felt a 
little self-conscious about going in there on my own, but only for a 
second.  

After I came out she bustled me off to the other end of the mall.  As we 
walked I realised what was happening.  She was gonna take me to the salon 
to have my hair cut!  I looked at her questioningly.  "Marcia did a good 
job," she said, "a very good one considering, but I think you could do 
with a little more style if you're going to keep doing this."

"But Mom, Marcia only cut my hair in the first place because we couldn't 
afford to get it cut!"

"Well, now we can", she said firmly as we entered the salon.  "Besides, I 
made appointments for both of us when I called.  If I'm going to make an 
impression at this interview it's time I had mine done as well."

I tried to act as natural as I could as the girl in the salon greeted us. 
 Surely someone would notice I wasn't a girl in this kind of environment 
if I had my hair all wet?  Mom squeezed my arm gently to reassure me.  

A short time later I was sitting in a chair, under a wrap, as the stylist 
ran his hands through my hair.  "You girls, you always wreck your hair so 
with the bleach", he said in what I thought was an unutterably affected 
French accent.   I had to keep from laughing.  He misunderstood my smile, 
and said "It's no laughing matter, we will have to give you a treatment 
before we can do anything else".  His name was Claude, though I didn't 
believe that for a moment.  Well, that was okay, I thought.  My name 
wasn't really Jenny.  That made us about even.  And obviously Claude was 
clueless about me pretending anything.  I relaxed and enjoyed the fussing.

A long, long time later Mom and I emerged.  Mom had to wait a while for 
me, because Claude decided to be very fussy over the way he restyled my 
hair, complaining all the time that whoever had cut my hair last had been 
very sloppy.  I decided I'd have to share this with Marcia, but only if I 
could imitate the way Claude said it exactly.

Mom looked great, and she seemed to feel so much happier.  Her smile 
increased when she saw me.  Claude had made my hair shorter, but had 
styled it so that it flipped a little at the ends and looked more 
sophisticated than the way Marcia had first done it.  It was more Alicia 
Silverstone than Tori Spelling (thank goodness!).  It looked like money 
had been spent on it, and it shone fabulously.

Before we left the mall Mom took me to the lingerie department of one of 
the bigger stores.  She successfully discouraged the sales assistant from 
helping us, which I was relieved about, and we bought a couple of bras 
and a half dozen panties.  I was beginning to get more than an inkling 
that Mom was secretly enjoying my "experiment".  

That night I cooked dinner, reasonably well I thought.  At least Mom was 
polite enough to be appreciative.  As I was going to bed that night she 
gave me a hug and told me she'd had a lovely day.  

Tuesday passed fairly uneventfully.  Marcia came over in the afternoon.  
She was pretty impressed by my hair, which I'd managed to do in the 
morning much more successfully.  We talked about a lot of things, but 
eventually of course the conversation came around to the fact that I 
still hadn't stopped being Jenny.  Marcia wondered why my Mom was taking 
it all so well.

I told her truthfully that I had no idea, but that - from being in tears 
originally - Mom had seemed to come around entirely to liking 'the 
experiment'.   

"You seem to have adapted to it pretty well, too,"  Marcia remarked, one 
eyebrow raised.

I was shocked.  Was she disapproving?  If she didn't like it, how come 
she'd invited me to dinner later in the week?  My fear must have showed, 
because she hugged me and told me that anything I wanted to do was cool 
with her.  "But we should talk about it when you feel you can", she said. 
 

I started to say something, and she cut me off.  "Not now, when you've 
had some time to absorb all this.  Okay?"

I showed Marcia some of the clothes that Megan had given me, and she was 
knocked out.  She tried a couple of the dresses on, too.  She looked 
great in the red shantung, but she was a little big in the chest for the 
Calvin Klein, which definitely looked better on me.  It felt funny, to 
think that, but it was true.  Was I terribly vain?  

We sat in my bedroom for a few more hours, talking about the things we 
always talked about.  As she was about to leave to head home for dinner, 
she brought the conversation around to the subject of Paul.  I admitted 
that we were going to see one another the following night.  Marcia hugged 
me and told me to take it easy with him.  I assured her I was going to be 
very, very careful.  As she was leaving, I was already getting nervous 
about what I'd agreed to with Paul.  Part of me wanted to see him again, 
but another part of me was convinced I was gonna pay for all this 
eventually.

Wednesday evening rolled on.  By mid afternoon I was really nervous.  Mom 
didn't help, I could tell that even though she seemed to like everything 
else she still wasn't crazy about me going out with a boy, though I did 
notice a wry smile every now and again as I worried aloud about what he 
was going to think of me and what I'd wear and an endless supply of 
trivial matters.  Paul had said he'd pick me up at 7.00, and I had chosen 
what I was going to wear by 3.00.  Then I put all that away, and chose 
something else.  Then I put everything away again, and decided I wasn't 
going.  I was on the verge of calling Paul when I realised I didn't have 
his number.  That was stupid of me.  I rang Marcia to see whether she had 
it, and of course she came straight over to talk me into going out.  It 
was 6.00 by the time I agreed, and 6.30 by the time I was out of the 
shower.

I took off my robe as Marcia chose one of the skirts I'd bought on Monday 
and a satiny dark blue blouse.  She turned around with the blouse and saw 
me standing clad only in my bra and panties.  I could see her look me up 
and down, and I immediately tried to cover myself with my hands.  I guess 
she'd noticed that there wasn't any bulge in my panties.  In a rush of 
fear about what would happen if Paul found out, I'd taped my penis back 
after the shower before I put on my underwear.  It wasn't exactly 
comfortable, and I hoped desperately I wouldn't have to go to the 
bathroom, but I felt safer.  Marcia was about to say something after she 
looked at my crotch, but instead she thought better of it and smiled at 
the way I was covering myself.

"Don't be embarrassed," she said.  "I saw you like this the other day, 
remember?  I'd just forgotten how great you look."  She walked over and 
poked the jellied pad that was substituting for my left breast.  "These 
look kind of real from a distance.  Feel pretty real, too.  You're gonna 
do fine, don't worry".  Then she kissed me again, lightly, on the lips.  
"You really are amazing, you know that?" she whispered.  

I dressed, and Marcia helped me with some light make-up.  "There", she 
said, combing my hair and pinning it up on one side.  "You're gonna kill 
him."  

"I just hope he won't kill me," I said nervously.  My confidence seemed 
to be evaporating.

"Jenny", Marcia said, looking me squarely in the eye, "everything is 
gonna be just fine.  Didn't you have a great time with him the other 
night?"  I admitted that I had.  "Well obviously he had a great time with 
you, too, or else he wouldn't have asked you out.  He thinks Jenny is 
great, and you seem to be very good at being Jenny.  So just be Jenny 
tonight, okay?"

She was right.  The doorbell rang, and Marcia led me down the stairs.  
"I'll slip out the back, okay?  Have a great time!"  

Mom had answered the door, and was showing Paul into the living room as I 
entered from the kitchen.  They both smiled as soon as they saw me, and I 
immediately felt better.  Paul told my Mom where we were going, and 
promised to have me home by midnight.  He was very polite, and he looked 
great, and I could see my Mom was even a little impressed.  She gave me a 
light kiss as we were leaving, and whispered softly "be good!"

"I didn't know that was your Mom on Saturday night", Paul said, as he 
opened the door of the car for me.  "I would have been a lot more polite 
to her if I had known."

"It's okay.  She had a headache then anyway, she wasn't really up to chat 
or anything," I said.  Trying to slide into the seat gracefully, and 
being careful not to wrinkle my skirt.  I was still a bit nervous, but as 
Paul got into the driver's seat he smiled at me and I felt much better.  
Before he started the car he leant across and turned my face toward his, 
and kissed me.  Any thoughts I had about not wanting to be with him 
evaporated.  It was the lightest, most gentle kiss I'd had so far, and a 
little buzz of electricity went through me.  Why did I like this so much?

We went for pizza before the movie.  I let Paul do a lot of the talking 
over dinner, while I picked at my one piece.  I could hear Marcia's voice 
in the back of my head telling me to eat like a lady.  

Paul was really interesting.  Most of the guys I knew at school seemed 
pretty dorky to me, although I'm sure they thought I was the all time 
misfit champion of the world.  But Paul was interested in other things 
besides sports and cars and computer games.  I asked him how the 
internship trip had gone, and he said he liked it a lot and thought they 
might accept him.  The work would be very menial. just gofer stuff, but 
it was a highbrow magazine, about art and style, and he was very 
impressed with some of the people they had writing for them.  He told me 
he wanted to write for a magazine like that someday.

I just enjoyed hearing him speak.  We went on to the movie, which was a 
French film about a woman who loses her husband and has to find a new 
life for herself.  I'd never seen a subtitled movie before, but I was 
surprised how easy it was to read the words and still see what was on the 
screen.  Paul put his arm around me as the movie began, and I snuggled 
into him as much as I could considering the arm of the seat got in the 
way.  Throughout the movie he stroked my shoulder and neck lightly, which 
I loved.  If I hadn't been engrossed in the movie I probably would have 
started purring.  

Midway through the film I reflected that so far our date hadn't been 
anything like what I'd expected.  From stories I'd heard at school, I 
knew that most guys thought going to the movies was just an excuse to 
feel a girl up, the movie didn't matter at all.  I wondered momentarily 
why Paul hadn't tried to touch my breasts yet.  I could feel his hand 
resting on my shoulder, his fingers only inches from my left breast as he 
caressed me gently, but he made no move to go further.  I became involved 
in the movie again, and eventually found myself crying, which was strange 
as I never cried a lot in movies before.  Paul looked across at me when 
the credits were rolling and smiled at my teary face illuminated in the 
glow from the projector.  Then he leant across and kissed me again as the 
house lights were coming up.

After I'd been to the ladies room and repaired the damage to my make-up, 
the two of us walked the length of Main Street and back, holding hands 
and talking.  The moon was still bright, and it was a quiet night now 
that it was late.  We got back to his car and he kissed me again before I 
got in.  I was getting better at kissing, I thought.  Or he was doing 
something that was relaxing me more.  I liked the feeling when he held 
me.  I liked being with him.  Everything felt so ... alive, so bright, so 
good.  I'd never felt so good about being with someone.

He drove me back home, and we sat in his car after he stopped the engine. 
 He reached over to me, and I to him, and we kissed some more.  I put my 
hand on his leg, then I felt his hand go to my breast for a moment, and 
cup it lightly.  All of a sudden I wanted my breasts to be real. I wanted 
him to like them, to like me.  

I caught myself, then.  What was I thinking?  I stiffened and he moved 
his hand from my breast to my face before pulling away slightly.  

"I ...  I have to go inside,"  I said abruptly.  

"Just stay a few minutes longer," he said softly.  "I'll walk you to the 
door."  He put his hand on my knee, and began stroking my leg, too.  
"You're beautiful.  You know that," he whispered.

I blushed, though he probably couldn't see it.  We kissed again, and 
again, and I felt his hand go to my breast once more.  He was about to 
slide his hand inside my blouse when my hand inadvertently brushed past 
his crotch as I was moving it from his leg.  I felt the hardness of his 
erection, and I started.  He sighed, kissed me again, and then I decided 
it was time to get out of the car.  

He walked me to the door and embraced me.  "I have to see some more of 
you", he smiled.  "Before you go".  

I smiled back, unsure what to say.  

"How long will that be?"  he asked, with a strange look in his eyes like 
he was talking about something else.

"Uh..." I was unsure what to invent, so I tried a diversion.  "Marcia's 
having a dinner on Friday and she's invited me - would you like to take 
me?"

"Okay.  It's just next door, isn't it?"

He remembered from Saturday night.  

"Yes", I said, "but it would be..."

"I can walk with you," he smiled.  "Again."

And with that he gave me a final kiss and hug, and walked back to his 
car.  I opened the door to the house, and stood in the doorway until he 
drove off.

The light was on in Mom's bedroom as I walked past.  She called to me, 
softly.  I went in, and saw that she had been reading, waiting up for me. 
 I sat on the edge of her bed, and then flung myself at her and burst 
into tears.  I was so confused.  I had just had the best time of my life, 
nerve-wracking though parts of it were.  I was deliriously happy, but 
part of me knew that everything wasn't real, it was just crazy.  So I 
cried and cried.  

Mom held me till I stopped crying.  Then she made me get undressed down 
to my underwear and get into her bed.  She went to her dresser, came back 
with some cleanser and removed my make-up, then held me again, still 
without saying anything, until we both went to sleep.

***

Continued in Chapter Ten.

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