AS GOOD AS A WOMAN (Part 5 of 6)

by Denise Em

Chapter IX

Tuesday morning, I awakened in a disoriented state.  I still
wasn't used to sleeping in filmy nylon, plus I wasn't in my own
bedroom.  It only lasted a moment, then I remembered that this
WAS my bedroom, after all - for the duration of the week.

There was a knock at the door.  That brought me fully awake
in alarm, until it sunk in that it had to be Kate.  An earlier
knock had been what had awakened me at first.

"Hello," I called out.

"Shake out the cobwebs, sleepyhead," she called back.  "Time
to be putting yourself together for the day's work."

Compared to Monday, I arrived at work dressed much less
dramatically.  Oh, it began with exquisitely feminine lingerie: a
matching set of bra, panties, and slip, floral on a black
background, trimmed generously with black lace.  However, all
that could be seen was a tweed suit, featuring an A-line skirt
that didn't quite reach the top of my knees, and a cropped
jacket.  The modified jewel neck of the jacket required no
blouse, sparing me the unwanted warmth of an extra layer.  Then
again, it also offered no opportunity to get cooler by removing
it.  The black shoes, purse, and accessories served to reinforce
a conservative image, mitigated only by the white pantyhose.

Applying my makeup had been no less painstaking.  A low key
makeup is - if anything - more challenging, because it has to fix
the problems, yet appear invisible.

I guess the rest of the office staff were getting used to my
appearance.  One of the guys had even remarked, "nice outfit,
Tess," without any evident sarcasm.

What was happening to me?  I'd come to work dressed
completely as a woman only three days, and I was THAT easily
accepted?  It wasn't as if my masculinity had been questionable
before this started.  I'd been a "regular guy" in every way I
could think of.  How is it that I could be so easily accepted in
a feminine mode?  How well would I be accepted when I returned to
being "Ted"?

Diane's voice intruded into my thoughts.

"Tess? ... Tess!  The phone!"

I quickly reached for the switch that enabled my headset.  It
was one of the technicians, ready to close out a service call.

When lunch time came around, Jean came by and asked me where
I was going for lunch.

I was rather surprised that she hadn't just insisted at the
start that I join her.  I told her that I'd planned to eat lunch
with Kate in the break room, even though I knew that Kate would
insist that we eat out - at least there'd be just the two of us.

"Oh, come on, Tess.  It's a beautiful day out, and you look
too pretty to be hiding in there.  Come along with us - I'll
buy."

"That's a dirty trick," I accused, "appealing to my frugal
nature."

"Cheapskate, you mean," she countered.

"Be nice," I told her, emphasizing my words with an
exaggerated pout.

"I AM being nice," Jean insisted, "I'm paying for your
lunch."

No one mentioned where we were eating, so I just went along,
without asking.  By the time we got to the restaurant, I'd become
so immersed in the conversation that it didn't even register on
my brain that not only did we eat here often, but we'd been here
just last Thursday.

The hostess had to open another section to seat us all in a
single booth.  We went through a shuffle to let Anita sit in the
middle with Gregg and myself on either side and then Jean and
Kate at the ends.

"Your waitress will be Anne," we were told.

Shortly, Anne came by for our orders, taking those of the
three to my left before getting to mine.

"And what will You have, Sir?"

I was sure that she had already taken Gregg's order, so I was
surprised that I wasn't next.  I looked up at her, only to
discover that she was looking right at me.  Time stopped.

"Yes, sir," she repeated, "what will you have?"

I couldn't talk.

Jean giggled.

I glowered at her.  I never got to finish my stuttering
question, "How ... ?"

"Oh, it was easy," Anne answered  You folks eat here a lot;
the same group was here just last Thursday; you're all sitting
around the table in the same order as last time; and you, dear,
are holding the menu the same way you always do."

How could I be so stupid?  Worse, I hadn't even tried to deny
the verity of her guess.

"But don't feel bad," she continued.  "If I hadn't known all
of you so well, I wouldn't have had a clue."  Then she looked
directly at me, "You really do look VERY cute."

I was anxiously searching my peripheral vision to see if
anyone was listening to this exchange.

She saw it, and leaned forward, to talk in a softer voice,
"Tell you what: I'll call you 'Miss' while you're here for lunch,
but you'll know that I really mean 'Sir'.  Right?"  She finished
with a wink.

I wished I could just die, right there, where I sat.  My
makeup couldn't possibly hide the crimson glow in my cheeks.

"Hey!" she added, "that blush makes you even cuter."

I let my head lean forward to rest in my hands, as if to hide
behind them.  What could I say?

Kate touched my side with her elbow. "You haven't ordered
yet."

"I gotta go," I plead.

"To the ladies room?" she asked.

"Out of here," I explained.

Anne tried to reassure me, "Oh, it all right, dear.  Just
relax, and enjoy your lunchtime.  There won't be any problem -
really."

I didn't respond, which she apparently took to mean I was
staying.

"What will you have?"

Kate put a reassuring hand on my thigh.  That steadied me
enough to place my order, after which Kate gave hers.  Then Anne
left us.

In a couple of minutes we began to notice that members of the
staff were taking surreptitious glances at us. The busboy went
out of his way to pass near our table, and look - at me.  As it
got busier, they had to pay less attention to us and take care of
business, but we could tell they were observing us, and talking
among themselves.

When Anne brought our lunches, she put everyone else's on the
table before mine, then proceeded to serve me with exaggerated
flair.

Gesturing across the part of me she could see, Anne asked,
"Do you have a special name to go along with this ... image?"

"Tess," Jean quickly volunteered for me.

"Well, Tess," Anne stated, "we hope that your food is equal
to this special occasion."

I was a little puzzled over what she meant. I didn't see how
this lunch time - even with the way I looked - constituted a
"special occasion".

However, she left us to take care of other customers, so I
didn't get to ask why she had said that.  More bothersome, was
the notion that everyone on the restaurant's staff now knew about
me, as the guy who's dressed up as a woman.  All I could do was
go ahead and eat my lunch.

In a little while, Anne stopped at our table again to ask how
our food was.  She got the standard responses from everyone
except me - I just nodded.  She wouldn't let me get by with that,
and made a special point of asking me how mine was.

In something like a loud whisper, I told her, "Fine - thank
you."

She offered, "If you want anything else, just ask," before
she moved on to another table.

The only thing else I wanted was OUT of there, before I was
embarrassed beyond endurance.

"Very good," Diane complimented. "A little more practice on
that voice, and I think we could take you anywhere."

"Oh thanks," I responded sarcastically. "Just what I need is
for you to be parading me all over town."

Anne came by again, just as some of us were finishing, to
take away plates.

"Instead of asking for your dessert order, I have a special
treat coming," she announced.

When she saw some concerned expressions, she added, "on the
house."

A couple of minutes later, she was back, leading a train of
staff members.  One was carrying something, and the rest all
gathered behind him as he set it on our table.

It took a moment for recognition to sink in.  The cake had
the inscription "Happy Birthday, Tess" in blue frosting over the
white.

Then the staff, began singing the "Happy Birthday" song to
me.

Filled with embarrassment, I buried my face in my hands,
Then, wondering who had set this up, I looked up and glanced in
turn at each of my companions.

All I saw was their own bewilderment.

I managed to squeak out a perplexed "Thank you," to the crew,
and, except for Anne, they disbursed back to their duties.

She looked right at me, saying, "Honey, it wasn't any of
them; this is my own doing."

I sighed, then said, "Look, this was very nice, but I'd have
much preferred that you hadn't told all of them about me."

Anne started to say something, then stopped.

"Oh," she started again, "I didn't tell them about THAT.  I
just said that your friends had brought you in for a birthday
luncheon."  Then she added, "They haven't a clue."

She didn't miss the "why?" in my expression, and answered
without my asking.

"It just happens that I have a very dear friend who would
just LOVE to be able to do what you are doing today."

Suddenly, the eyes of my understanding had been opened.
Appropriately humbled, I said to her, very softly, "Thank you -
very much."

"Honey, you are so very welcome," Anne responded. "I hope you
have a lovely day."

While we hurried with our dessert, Anne made certain that the
remainder of the cake went into a box, to go with us.  While she
was away from the table, I put out a substantial tip for her.

We had to walk briskly to get back to work on time.

During the first lull in phone activity, Elaine approached
me.

"I have something for you," she said, as she reached out to
hand it to me.

It was a new employee badge, bearing my last name and "Tess".
I recognized the photo on it as one of those taken at Diane's,
last Friday morning.  At first, I looked around the room, to see
who might be watching for my reaction.

"It seemed appropriate, under the circumstances," she said,
answering my unvoiced question.  "Besides, that and the nameplate
will make wonderful souvenirs, afterward."

With a rather weak smile, I offered an uncertain, "Thanks."

On one of her visits to pick up paperwork, Jean reminded me
that I was expected for dinner at 6:30.

I asked if I there was anything I could do to help her with
the preparation.  It was no problem for me to be there earlier, I
explained.  I must have caught her off guard.  She didn't answer
immediately.  She just looked at me with a contemplative gaze,
then smiled.  It was the same sort of expression that I'd seen
yesterday morning on Elaine's countenance - an unvocalized "very
in-ter-es-ting".

*--*

When I got home from dinner at Jean's, Kate was again curled
up on the recliner, reading a book.  She gestured to the sofa.  I
sat down, taking care to execute the move gracefully.  Then we
went through the same procedure as last night - interview and
review.  This time it only took one retry to satisfy her.

Kate stood up and escorted me back to my temporary bedroom.
Opening the closet, she removed a garment on a hanger.

"It's the same as in the catalog.  Let's see if it's going to
fit right."

Shortly, I was down to my slip.  I really didn't need the
help, but was enjoying Kate's fussing with the dress as it slid
down over my head and enveloped me in luxuriant softness.  It was
black velvet, and would need the grey blazer, still hanging on
the clothes pole, to keep it from looking too after-five-ish for
office wear.  At Kate's urging, I replaced the white stockings
with a pair that were off-black, then slipped on the black, ankle
strapped, high heeled sandals that awaited.

Kate helped me rearrange my wig, after the tousling it
received during the clothes changing.  Then she steered me into
the hall, where the full-length mirror would show a complete
picture of how I appeared.

I studied the image, turning this way and that.  It fit
perfectly.  Kate returned to the room and brought out the grey
blazer.  With it on, I repeated my study of the image in the hall
mirror.

"My hips are still too small, the blazer doesn't hang quite
right," I concluded.

Kate reached over and fastened the jacket's button.

"How about now?" she asked.

That made just enough difference.

Kate disappeared for a moment, then reappeared with a large
envelope style handbag, handing it to me.  "This will add a much
more professional look to that outfit."  I fumbled for a way to
carry it.

"It can't be carried like an ordinary purse," she cautioned.
Taking it back, she put the edge of it into the cup of her hand,
tucking the corner under her elbow to demonstrate how to hold it.

After Kate returned it to me, I walked the length of the hall
and back, practicing my carry.  Kate's approving nod told me that
I had it under control.  We returned to the room, and Kate again
helped me with getting out of the clothes.

Down to the foundation garments, I accepted a bathrobe from
Kate, then we returned to the living room, where she picked up
the first of a stack of records featuring dance rhythms.

*--*

Wednesday morning, Kate insisted that I ride with her.
Considering the outfit I was wearing, it shouldn't have been too
hard to figure why.  I was wearing a cotton top that was nearly
as thin as a T-shirt, and the slim skirt was three inches short
of reaching my knees.  It proved to be all but impossible to sit
down without displaying the hem of my slip, or worse.  At work, I
could hardly move, without Diane commenting on what, or how much,
I was showing.  By the morning break, I was ready to go home and
change, but, of course had no way to do so.

Elaine had noticed, too, and remarked, "If you keep showing
off, some guy's going to think you want his amorous attention."

I blushed at that.

"You don't want that?" she continued, "Then maybe we need to
arrange more time for you to learn ladylike comportment."

I never did figure out if she was kidding or not.

By noon, I had resigned myself to finishing the day dressed
as I was.  Unlike the previous days, I asked Diane to take the
first lunch.  By the time my turn came, I was tense with
apprehension over the provocative way I was dressed.
Nevertheless, I slung my purse strap over my shoulder and walked
outside and down the block.  Kate was supposed to meet me at a
sandwich shop we had picked out during the morning drive to work.

Even though I was getting pretty well accustomed to being out
in public dressed as a woman, I couldn't stop worrying about how
much attention that day's outfit would draw.  It must have been
obvious, because, throughout our meal, Kate was clearly working
hard at keeping my mind occupied, with marathon conversation.

As we walked back to the office, Kate pointed out what she
saw in the faces of various passersby, and encouraged me.

"Tess, a lady  keeps her gaze forward, looking where she's
going," she directed. "And SMILE - show everyone you're happy to
be who you are."

As we were about to pass a department store, Kate steered me
inside, declaring that we still had nearly 25 minutes.  Sensing
that my anxiety was rising again, she explained calmly how no one
had taken offense on the street, so I could relax in here and
enjoy a few minutes of "eyeball shopping".  "Besides," she
advised, "You might even find something you want to buy."

She guided me first into the misses' department, where we
picked through a group of dresses that were my size.  She even
had me take a couple of them over to the full-length mirror to
hold them in front of me.  I thought my heart wouldn't ever beat
again, when one of the clerks asked if she could help us.
Mercifully, Kate dealt with her.

Next she led me into the lingerie department, and directed my
attention to a rack of nightgowns.  Sorting through them, she
asked my opinion about several.  I fell in love with one, but I
wouldn't admit it to her.  Just as another hungry clerk was
homing in on us, I convinced Kate that we were out of time, and
we left.

I returned to the office with a few minutes to spare.

"Is the restroom clear?" I asked Diane.

"I don't know."

I sighed in indecision.

"You could try the men's room," she volunteered.

I stared at her in wide-eyed panic.

"Tess," she said, "don't you think that it's time you got
used to being one-of-the-girls?  If you need to use the
facilities, go in and do it.  If you will just accept in your own
mind that you belong there, so will everyone else."

My physical needs were rapidly overtaking my will to argue
her logic, so I just took a deep breath and went into the ladies'
room to take care of my business.  Fortunately for my peace of
mind, it was empty, and I went directly into one of the stalls.
However, just as I was ready to leave, two women from sales came
in to touch up their appearances.  I just could not bear having
them know who was in there with them, so I waited in the stall
until they finished.   That put me a couple of minutes late
getting back to work.

Diane got in a dig at me over that.

"My, we are acting more like a woman now, aren't we.  Even
taking longer in the ladies' room to do our business - right?"

"Okay, okay," I told her as I made an imaginary mark in the
air, "Another point for the home team."

The balance of the day was fairly routine, and I began to
forget how I was dressed, other than being careful with the hem
of my skirt.  Just at quitting time, Kate called from a
customer's site, saying that she would be late, while she
completed a repair.  I reminded that I didn't have my car.  She
told me to wait in the parking lot and she'd pick me up in about
half an hour.

I wasn't really thinking when I left the building - until the
door locked behind me.  There I was, in a thin, clinging top,
short skirt, and high heels, standing around with nothing to do.
My predicament was brought home powerfully when I heard a whistle
from a passing car.  That was when I got the wild idea to return
to the department store.  At least that would keep me occupied
until Kate arrived, I reasoned.

It was as if I were being magically drawn back to the
nightgown rack.  I found a gown like the one Kate had shown me,
which I'd liked so well.  It was the wrong size.  Eventually, I
picked out two, one for myself in a mint color, and another in
peach, which I thought that Kate had liked.

On my way to the service island, I realized that I still had
my very masculine wallet in my purse.  I stopped and carefully
fished out enough money to cover my purchase, then stepped up to
the counter with cash and merchandise in hand.

Even so, the youthful clerk asked whether the purchase would
be cash or charge.  I had to pause overly long to adjust my
throat muscles, then in a soft voice I spoke just two words,
"Cash, please."  I hoped that the anyone listening would perceive
the pause as being due to astonishment over the clerk not seeing
the currency, which was in plain view.

The transaction seemed to be taking forever.  Didn't this
clerk know how to process a cash transaction?  Looking at my
watch again, I was amazed to discover that I still had seven
minutes.  Finally, she handed me my change and the bag containing
my purchase.

As I walked away, my tenseness from dealing with the clerk
began to be displaced by elation over having been accepted,
apparently, as the woman I appeared to be.  That process was
momentarily reversed when, to my shock, I heard Diane's voice,
just as I was about to leave the building.

"Wow!  You're really getting into this, aren't you?"

With dread, I turned toward the sound to discover, to my
relief, that she was alone.  Rather than reply, I just shrugged.

"What did you get?" she asked, as she stepped up to me.

Quietly, I said, "nothing much."

She looked at me thoughtfully, but didn't saying anything
else.

We took leave of each other, and I went outside.  I had to
wait another ten minutes in the office parking lot before Kate
arrived.  It felt like hours.


AS GOOD AS A WOMAN (Part 1 of 6)

by Denise Em

Kate, too, asked what I'd bought, but didn't press when I was
evasive about it.

When we got back to my place, instead of starting dinner, she
helped me redo my makeup.

"Just for a dinner at my own home?" I complained.

"No," she told me, "we're going out."

"We're WHAT?"

"Don't panic.  We're just going to a little place where I
know you won't be bothered."

I was puzzled, but she wouldn't explain any further.

"At least let me change to a longer skirt," I demanded.

"No.  You look fine, just the way you are."  Insisting that
it was an important part of my education, she pushed me along.

When we drove into the parking lot of our destination, the
name of the place sparked an uncertain recognition.  After we had
taken a table, and I'd had a chance to look around a little, I
realized why.  There weren't any men in the place.

Trying to be discrete, I whispered, "Isn't this a lesbian
bar?"

"Tess," she began, "a women's club is a place for any woman
who wants to socialize in a safe environment.  It has nothing to
do with her sexual preference."

Her explanation made me feel even more like an invader.

"What if they ...?"

"Anyone who looked at you closely already knows," she
answered before I could finish.

A look around the room brought confirmed that I was
conspicuous, in a way I wouldn't have imagined - for gathering of
women.  Of the twenty or so souls there, less than a handful were
wearing any kind of skirt.

"If you behave yourself," she continued, "everyone will treat
you pretty much like any other woman."

`Pretty much' left quite a bit of lattitude, as it turned
out.

At least I had the presence of mind to realize that "behaving
myself" included keeping my eyes off the other patrons.  Not that
it took much cogitation to realize that the only thing less
welcome in a lesbian environment than being `checked out' by a
guy, was if the guy was also pretending to be a woman.

The menu barely had enough on it to qualify the place as more
than just a bar.  When the server came to take our orders, Kate
insisted I order for myself.  I was tired and had trouble staying
perfectly in character, so the server knew I wasn't a "regular"
woman.  Nevertheless, she graciously gave me no reason to feel
that I was unwelcome.

While we were there, several women came by the table to greet
Kate.  She introduced me to each as "Tess, a friend from work."
Other than receiving a thorough scan, I was treated politely.
One friend, introduced as Janet, went a little farther.  She took
another chair and sat with us, conversing mainly with Kate.

Suddenly, she turned to me, saying, "You know, you really
have a lot of nerve, coming in here dressed like that."

What could I say?  I wanted to tell her that it hadn't been
my choice, but even the thought sounded so lame, that I didn't
speak at all.  I looked to Kate for help, but her flat expression
told me none was forthcoming.  At that moment, I felt so
incredibily betrayed.  I'd been set up, dragged into a hostile
environment - a wolf in sheep's clothing, after the sheep had
been equiped with claws and fangs.  What had happened?  I'd
thought Kate was my friend.  Why had she put me in a situation to
be held up to ridicule?  Strangely, my immediate reaction wasn't
an angry retort, but rather, a welling up of tears.  I fell back
to a defense I'd perfected as a child: play ignorant.  Directing
a puzzled expression at Janet, I asked, "How so?"

After a sigh of disgust, she elaborated, "Why is it you
transvestites are impelled to come into womanspace trying to look
like some guy's wet dream?  Who, in a place like this, do you
think is going to appreciate the image you're projecting?"

Aghast as I was at having been accused of being a
transvestite, my anger was overridden by the sensation of
impending overflow of the water in my eyes.  I wanted out of
there.  Without any thought for how far I was from home or how
inappropriately I was dressed for a long hike, I pushed my chair
back to get up and leave, saying "You're right, of course.  I'm
really sorry to have intruded."

At that moment, Kate finally deigned to speak.

"Wait!" she commanded, giving me only momentary pause.  No, I
was definitely leaving, now.  Her voice softed, "Please!  Don't
leave."  I stopped, standing there with my hand on my purse
strap.

With her eyes still on me, she said, "Janet, don't blame her.
It's my fault she looks like that.  And she had no idea where we
were going."

"Her? She?" Janet responded, incredulously.

"OK, it's an honorary designation," Kate responded, as she
turned her attention to Janet.  "And Ted isn't a TV, he's just a
kind and gentle person, who happens to be too easily persuaded to
get involved in unusual goings-on."

Janet sneered, "That sounds like an euphemism for a little
boy who's thoroughly whipped - by every female he knows."

I lifted the purse strap from the chair, but before I could
say anything, Kate snapped back, "That was uncalled for, Janet.
He's not being led around by the little head."

Janet raised an eyebrow.

Kate giggled, "Actually the truth is probably is distant
cousin.  Ted got into this situation partly because of an
overactive masculine ego."

Janet's expression demanded amplification, so Kate said, "sit
down, Tess.  It'll be all right, now."  Then she began to relate
how I'd been challenged by Jean, and convoluted path by which
that had led me to have to work an extra week en-femme.

I was still standing, torn between wanting to bail out, and
wanting to hear how this conversation came out.  Kate paused, and
lifted a hand toward mine, "It's all right now," she assured me,
"please, sit down with us."

I may not have been thinking with my little head right then,
but I wasn't at all certain that I was thinking with my right
head either.  I let the purse strap slip back onto the back of
the chair and lowered myself back onto the seat, and listened to
Kate as she finished relating my story.

I'll have to give Janet credit.  As Kate progressed through
her explanation, Janet's sneer metamorphosed into an expression
of respect, if begrudginly so.

"You've actually been working as a woman for five full days?"
she queried of me.

"No," I corrected her, "Only four days as a woman, the first
day was as Ted, wearing a skirt and heels.  And it's not like all
the regular staff don't know who I really am."

"Well, I have to say, then, that you certainly have a set of
brass tubes - of one kind or another."

I wasn't sure at the time, but it sounded as though it might
have been a compliment, of some sort.  So I said, "Thanks, I
think?"

Kate uttered a gentle laugh, "That's a woman's equivalent of
having `balls', Tess.  It's good."

"Tubes?" I echoed, "Oh, yeah."  The light finally went on
inside my head. "Uh, why not ovaries?  Wouldn't that be a more
accurate analogue?"

"Too many syllables," Janet responded.  "And the fallopian
tube is as uniquely female as the ovary itself.

"Look," she continued, "I guess I owe you an apology.  You
weren't responsible for your circumstances tonight, so you didn't
deserve the insults.  I'm sorry."  She extended her hand to me.

Talk about mixed feelings.  I was angry and hurt over her
earlier words, but I'm not much inclined to make unnecessary
enemies.  So I extended my own to meet hers.  She held mine in a
firm grip, while she said, with a very serious face, "But you'll
have no excuse, the next time you come in, if you're dressed
inappropriately.  Got it?"

I don't know where she got the idea that I'd ever want to
come back.  So far, whatever few good memories I might have had
from this visit were still thoroughly overshadowed by bad ones.
My thoughts must have been a neon sign on my face.

Before she released my hand, her expression changed to a very
warm smile, and she said, "You ARE welcome here - you've been
every bit a gentle woman, even in the face of my unkindness. I
hope you'll come again so that I can make it up to you."  Then
she got up and walked away, disappearing into some other part of
the building.

After that Kate spent half an hour, or so, at damage control,
trying to explain that she hadn't exactly forseen things
developing the way they did.  She also told me that Janet was one
of the club's owners, and, yes, she did have a reputation for
being rather direct.

Rather direct!  Was that ever an understatement, I thought.

Before we finally got out of there, a few more of her friends
had drifted over to the table for a few moments of conversation.
Those visits were pretty much like those before Janet, so I began
to mello out a little.

Nevertheless, I was still a little sullen when we got into
the car.  Kate was quiet until we'd driven several blocks, then
she spoke tentatively, "Ted, have I blown our friendship?"

I was silent for a minute or so, then answered, "I'll be OK."

"I figured that," she said, more directly.  "That doesn't
answer my question."

Several seconds of silence followed, then I added, with very
little energy, "We're still friends."

She reached over and put her right hand on my left.  "Still
GOOD friends?" she pressed.  She wrapped her finger tips under my
hand, exerting a slight lifting pressure.  I turned my wrist to
let her get a full grip.  She squeezed my hand gently.

I gave her hand a return squeeze, and said, "Still GOOD
friends," albeit not without some misgivings that I was being too
easy.

She must have sensed my reservations, and she asked, as we
approached my driveway, "Would you prefer that I stayed at my own
place tonight?"

I honestly didn't care, I was still numb from Janet's verball
pummeling, her apologies notwithstanding.  I told her she was
welcome to stay wherever she wanted to stay.

Kate stopped the car and, rather than release her grip on my
hand, reached across the steering wheel to put the transmission
in `park'.  "One last thing," she said, then after a pregnant
pause, followed with, "What did you learn from tonight's
excursion?"

A miniature gasp escaped my nose, then i countered, "Are you
sure you want me to tell you?"

"You did say that we are still friends," she responded, "Good
friends, even."  She continued, "Seriously, there were at least
two important lessons about how women act, versus the way men do,
that could have been learned tonight."  She gave my hand a gentle
squeeze of encouragement.  "Tell me one of them."

I was tired - too tired to concentrate, really.  I grabbed at
an easy one.  "Well, I didn't get beaten up and thrown out into
the alley tonight."

She let out a half-chuckle, "That was one of the ones I was
thinking of, but it's a good one too.  And there were a couple of
sisters there who could have managed it, too."

"I saw," I acknowledged.

"Got another?" she asked, with another squeeze.

I just shrugged my shoulders.

"One has to do with the way women perceive one another," she
hinted, as she brought her other hand over to sandwich mine
between hers.

"Can't we do this inside?" I protested.

Her grip tighted slightly, carrying with it a definite sense
of restrained power.  Kate wasn't particularly large, but I
always did think of her as being a little stronger than most
women I knew.  Now, her strength reminded me of a guy I knew in
college.  He was only 5'6" & 130 lbs., with nothing spectacular
about his muscular development, but he could jump head and
shoulders above a regulation volleyball net, from a static
position.  We used to joke that his muscles were made of piano
wire.

"Nope.  Once we go inside, you'll want to get ready for bed.
It has to be here.  It'll only take a minute or so."

If Kate didn't want me to go in, I knew I wasn't going in
without one heck of a struggle.  When I didn't try, her grip
relaxed slightly, and I noticed another sensation.  It was as if
there were some kind of circuit completed through our hands, and
an inner warmth was being transmitted up my arm.  With a sigh of
resignation, I slumped back in the seat.

"What did you notice about the way that women see each other,
that you hadn't before?" she prompted.

I was too tired. I started to shake my head, but then caught
at a thought, "The way Janet regarded how I was dressed," I
offered.

"And ..."

"I ... I don't know.  I mean, she seemed to have been
offended by it.  She was.  But then, again, it is a pretty
provocative way to dress."

Kate offered another hint, "So, do you dress differently if
you want to impress a woman than if you want to impress a man?"

"Yeah, I guess SO," I agreed.  "I wouldn't have dressed like
this, if I'd been left a choice."

"Oh, now," Kate pressed, "didn't you find it at least a
little bit fun, at least some of the time?  You didn't enjoy the
swivelling heads, the envious glances?"

"I don't think so," I started to answer.  A change in her
grip on my hand bespoke a silent, "tell me the truth."

"Really.  Well, maybe if I weren't so worried about being
found out, it might have been a little fun."

"Now were getting somewhere," Kate announced. The pressure
between her hands relaxed to barely touching.  I could have
easily slid mine out from between them, if I had wanted to.
"Ready to go in?  Or do you want to sit and talk a while?"

We got inside far later than I would have chosen for a
workday eve, and I still had my feminine routine to deal with
before I could go to sleep.  When I finally did get to bed, I
didn't move again until Kate awakened me.

*--*

I walked from my car to the office, Thursday morning,
wondering if my lingerie showed through my white satin charmeuse
blouse.  Everything underneath was pastel floral.  Moreover, the
short pleated skirt, in a glen plaid, fluttered not only from the
light breeze, but from the sway imparted by trying to walk in
pumps that had three and a half inch heels.

That day differed from the others only in the details.  At
day's end, I was tired, and ached from the hips down, no doubt
from being on such tall heels all day.  I would have gladly
passed up on eating, altogether - let alone away from home - in
favor of a relaxing soak in the tub and an early bedtime.  No
such luck.

I arrived at Diane's at 6:30 to be greeted with a warm hug.
Dinner was still in the preparation stage, and it progressed
slowly, while she tried to pump me for details of my
transformation.  She was full of questions about where my clothes
had come from, how I'd managed to look so authentic each morning,
and what I'd been doing in the evenings.

Not quite sure how much Kate wanted known, I was mostly
evasive.  I plead ignorance, telling her that Kate had arranged
most of it, which she already knew anyway.

Kate was waiting for me when I got home.  She smiled
mischievously, as I recounted the way I'd sidestepped Diane's
questions.  "You didn't have to be so mysterious," she told me,
when I'd finished, "I'm not trying to keep this any big secret."

Shortly before bedtime, I found an opportunity to present
Kate with the nightgown I'd bought for her.  I'd already gotten
over my feelings from the night before.  The kiss she gave me
was hardly in character for a "sisterly" relationship.

Friday, I went to the office in the outfit I'd tried on
Tuesday evening.  I was greeted with quiet stares.  Kate had done
a fantastic job on me that morning.  I doubt that I could have
hoped for better from a Hollywood professional.  My low-key
makeup and minimal jewelry combined with the dress/blazer duo to
produce a feminine, yet businesslike appearance.

As had been anticipated by Kate, Jean wanted to go out to a
fancy restaurant for dinner, just like last Friday.  Thus, after
work, I found myself once again redoing my makeup to an evening
style.

Again, she chose a restaurant which offered dancing.  We
hadn't even finished eating when the band started, and before our
dessert order could be taken, we were approached with offers to
dance.  To my shock, "Tess" was the first asked.  To the surprise
of everyone except Kate, "she" accepted.

Jean was open-mouthed.  Even after she was invited onto the
floor, she kept looking to see where I was, seemingly astonished
at how well I was doing.

I will never forget the expressions on her face that evening.
They were so precious that all the hassles I'd put up with - even
the ungentlemanly attention I got from some of the guys I ended
up dancing with - seemed, afterward, a small price to pay.

It was nearly midnight when our group finally left the
restaurant.  During the drive home, Jean was effusive in her
comments about my activities of that afternoon and evening.

I was getting a warm feeling inside, partly from all the
attention, but mainly because I felt accepted as an intimate
friend.  I had never been party to such discussions with females
- as "Ted" - the way I had been involved in them the past few
days, as "Tess".  The feeling lasted all the way through the
change of cars at Jean's, the ride home in Kate's car, and into
bed.


Chapter X

Saturday morning, I awakened late.  I wrapped myself with the
only robe available in this room, a negligee left over from a
previous night's gown.  Out in the hall, I discovered that the
door to my bedroom - or, rather, of late, Kate's - was ajar.  I
knocked; she wasn't here.  Neither was her car in the driveway.
A quick survey of the bedroom confirmed that she'd moved out.
Ted's belongings were back in place.

I caught my breath at that thought.  I had actually thought
of my male self in the third person, as though he were someone
else.

I called Kate, but only got her answering machine.  I almost
hung up immediately, but was stopped by the message.  "... If
it's Ted calling, don't worry about the stuff in the other room,
we'll take care of it next week.  If it's Tess, I'll call you
tomorrow.  Anyone else ..."

I couldn't think of what to say, so I hung up anyway.

Jean called early in the afternoon to tell me that she was
taking Kate's turn tonight, in return for her help last Saturday.

We had an early dinner.  Over the meal, she brought the
conversation around to my role as "Tess", asking if that really
was the end of it.  She had no way of knowing that under my
clothing were a most feminine set of underthings.  What may have
appeared to be the outline of an undershirt was actually a
lace-edged camisole with wide shoulder straps.

I neither confirmed nor denied her speculations.  I wanted to
discourage her from pushing me toward working as "Tess" again,
but I couldn't make myself lie and say that "she" was gone
forever.  Especially, I didn't want to admit - to Jean, anyway -
how much I had ended up enjoying my feminine role.  I settled for
leaving her with the impression that my part in our arrangement
was concluded.

*--*

	I wasn't especially surprised Monday morning, when I was told
that Cheryl wasn't coming in this week, either.  Still, I didn't
volunteer to take over the board again; I waited until Elaine
asked.  The day went smoothly enough, calls were especially light
for a Monday, but something didn't feel quite right.

As lunch approached, Diane asked if I preferred to take my
lunch first.  I deferred to her.  When my own turn came, I ate
alone.

I didn't know what to make of my feelings.  The main
sensation was a profound sadness - the reason for which, I
couldn't identify.  I had a fleeting recollection of the warm
glow I'd felt when functioning as "Tess".  Yet, I couldn't relate
my current feelings to that experience, just yet.

It wasn't until the subject of dinner was brought up, that I
began to recognize the reason for my unease.  I received some
confirmation of this when I ate at Jean's place that evening.  As
"Ted", I was no longer the intimate friend.  It was fully
confirmed at Kate's, the next evening.

Kate had invited Diane and Jean to make a foursome for
dinner.  Conversation was subdued - to say the least - and Jean
left early.

I still hadn't done anything about the clothes in the spare
bedroom.  When it seemed appropriate, I mentioned it.  Kate
passed it off, saying that she'd been very busy.

"Besides," she observed, "a lot of those things are yours."

Seeing my puzzled expression, she continued, "You paid for
them, that certainly makes them yours."

"What about all the clothes that were borrowed?" I asked.

"Maybe we can sort all that out this weekend," she replied.

Then, Diane asked a question that made all the difference in
my life.  Would "Tess" ever again appear?

I had reservations about the matter, which I expressed by
saying that I really didn't have any reason to become "Tess"
again.

Diane could think of one, "How about to come over and share a
meal?  Tomorrow night is the last dinner you've earned.  While I
do enjoy having you as a friend, I'd go to more trouble to make
the meal special, if 'Tess' were coming."

Thus it was, that I spent three hours, Wednesday evening,
becoming Tess again, entirely on my own.  Dinner conversation
gravitated to my impressions of the past two weeks.

The doorbell rang.

"That's probably dessert," Diane said, as she got up.

"Surprise!" Kate exclaimed as she entered.  She laid out the
shortcake and semi-frozen strawberry yogurt she'd brought.
"Something light, so as not to spoil your figure," she explained
as she gave my tush a friendly slap.

*--*

Saturday morning was spent in returning those items that had
been borrowed.  The rest of the day was spent by the three of us
going shopping.  The trip lasted until after dark.  We brought
all my things inside, and began to find places to put them.  As
we did so, I was struck by a thought, which I expressed vocally,
"Where am I going to wear all this stuff?  I won't be needing it
at work any more."

Diane was quick. "You never know," she replied, "Cheryl might
need a substitute again."

She was followed by Kate, "Besides, Tess, you might be amazed
at the places we'll want to take our new friend."

And Tess WAS.

{.NOT. THE END}