Bosom Bondage Buddies

by Brandy Dewinter

  

Chapter 8 - Milady Dewinter

  

With our re-energized incentives we were making good progress toward our second ten-pound goal. One evening Kelly brought out a new series of catalogs stocked with beautiful clothes. Taking careful measurements indicated that I was rapidly approaching size 10, though actually smaller in the hips. Kelly could now wear a size 7, though it would be tight in the bust. Glancing through the images of the clothes, we mused over several styles when Kelly abruptly closed the catalog.

"Okay," she said, "I know what I want to get you. Everything from here will be a surprise."

"You're right about that," I agreed, " but I still want a couple of those catalogs."

Selecting out the ones specializing in leather clothes, I took them off by myself. In a moment we were both busily making notes, which we then laughingly hid from each other as though they were deep mysteries. Our orders were prepared and held in anticipation of making our second goal which I made first this time, though only by one day, then we sent off the orders and waited impatiently for packages to arrive. Though we had resolved not to lose our momentum, once again the intensity had gone out of our commitment to shed weight. By now our body fat percentages had dropped quite a bit and the exercise we were getting was actually impeding our weight loss, by building muscle. Our evening walk was as fast-paced as ever, but had become as easy as a stroll in the park.

Though it seemed like forever, it was only about a week later that I again noticed a sticker on our door. Realizing that the package had once more been left with Billie Jo, I considered leaving it there until Kelly got home so that she could pick it up. However, after only a few minutes of anxious pacing I knew I had to go get it myself.

Despite my firm resolve to be cool, calm, and casual, when I once again looked into Billie Jo's amused smile, I could feel a flush rising to my cheeks.

"Do you have a package for us?" I asked.

"Certainly, actually two," she replied. "Would you like to step in for a minute?"

"Well," I stammered, though my feet made their way across her threshold, "I really can't stay. Kelly will be home any second."

She turned to get the packages she glanced over her shoulder at me and said, "The two of you are getting in much better shape. Maybe we could walk together some evening, now that we seem to be setting a similar pace."

This time the amusement in her eyes shouted that she knew the question would embarrass me, which it did. My face burned with the thought that there was no way she would not notice my shaved legs if we walked together, even if I didn't wear pantyhose. Then she dropped a bombshell.

"I think a man who can look like a beautiful woman, and is willing to do so, is incredibly attractive."

At this, my embarrassment flamed in my face. I could feel sweat breaking out on my brow and dampness in my palms. My mouth dropped open in shock and I didn't know whether to run away, try and laugh, or angrily deny her claim.

She laughed with a much more earthy sound than Kelly's silvery giggle, then handed me the packages with her perpetual smile cranked up to a blinding level.

"Come by after you've tried on your clothes. Everyone should have a chance to show off their finery."

Still blushing hotly, I turned and almost ran back to our house. When Kelly finally got home, I debated telling her about our discovered secret but knew that she would find out soon, regardless of whether I told her myself. I poured out my tale, the flush seemingly permanent in my cheeks. I expected shock and dismay on Kelly's part as a mirror of my own, but she seemed to have caught the amused-smile disease instead.

"What do you think we should do," she prodded.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Our lives have been so much more interesting since we expanded our horizons in the last couple of months. Going back to slowly climbing weight, limited energy, and ordinary sex just doesn't seem enough any more."

"I agree," Kelly affirmed. "Let's think about it after your fashion show."

The thought of new, feminine clothes, a complete outfit, brought back that inescapable blush I seemed afflicted with that night, but I was also so excited I could hardly breathe.

"First," Kelly proclaimed, "we need to get you in your corset."

"Are you going to wear yours, as well?" I asked.

"Certainly," she smiled. "I learned my lesson the other night. Anything we do to make you look better, we do to me as well. I'm not going to be second prettiest in my own house!"

Laughing, we moved to the bedroom where we repeated our previous adventure, though I was sure she laced me even tighter than before, a complaint she echoed about my own efforts. Once we were both elegantly made up and perched on our towering heels, Kelly brought out the first new package. In it was a silk and lace party dress. Like the nightgown, it had a high collar, but this dress was in the deep midnight blue of my corset and shoes. The lace was strategically placed at the neck and shoulders, to hint at but not reveal the mammary charms I didn't really have. I tried to slip it on over my shoulders, but they were still too broad for the narrow waist of the dress, even when fully unzipped. So I stepped into it from below instead. It slid by my narrow hips with ease and then I was able to feed my arms through the long, fluffy sleeves. Kelly zipped up the back to reveal an amazingly trim waist, thanks to the tight corset. Now that the dress was settled into place, I could see that it was not much longer than our short robes. I could feel cool air under the tight skirt and just knew I was showing everything.

"I can't wear this," I complained, "at least, not without regular pantyhose and full underwear."

"Oh yes you can," she insisted. "This is what we agreed on. You've learned to watch yourself well enough, from our practice. Just sit carefully and don't bend over," she giggled.

"Let me see you wear one as short, then," I insisted.

"Gladly," she grinned. "You're not the only one with good looking legs."

Her leather dress had not arrived yet so she pulled out a black leather mini-skirt we had gotten her previously. It had been too tight and was still quite snug about her current, trimmer hips, but I had to admit that the length was not much longer than my dress. She added a lacy black blouse which was almost solid enough to hide her own corset, though it let glimpses of icy blue peek through.

The combination of improvements had turned Kelly into a goddess of beauty, angelic in face yet intensely sensuous in body. Even though I now wore beautiful clothes as well, I let out a long, appreciative wolf whistle at my glorious bride, forgetting all about my feminine side as her sensuality triggered my masculinity. Recognizing that the compliment was heartfelt and well deserved, Kelly grinned with pride.

Then she looked at me and said, "Wait a minute, we're not done with you, yet."

Wondering what else was to come, I let her lead me over to the vanity chair again. She seated me facing away from the mirror, and then opened the other package. In it was a long wig, tumbling with thick waves of a deep brown that matched my own hair, in color at least. I gasped at the sight of this beautiful hair, trembling with the thought of how it would look. I wanted to turn around and hold it up by my head to see immediately but Kelly would not allow it. She insisted that I keep turned away from the mirror until she was ready. Finally, after a time which made all previous waits seem instantaneous she allowed me to stand and turn. The wig fell in sensual waves to my waist, except for flippant bangs which hid my own hairline. In the mirror were not one, but two beautiful women. Kelly glowed with a most intriguing combination of angelic sensuality, while I provided a counterpoint with just as much incredible beauty, but no trace of angels. As a team, we reinforced each other's attractiveness, highlighting by contrast the best features of each. I stood without speaking for a time which seemed to stretch out to infinity, unwilling to break the spell of magic we had cast. Kelly was the first to stir, herself amazed at the effectiveness of the transformation.

She said, "There are just a few more items, and we're ready."

Ready for what? I wondered. I would have expected her to say "done".

She drew silk gloves which matched my dress from a drawer and had me put them on, sliding the ends up under the long sleeves.

"These will hide your hands," she said. "Your nails are trimmed in too masculine a style."

She added clip earrings and a bracelet, pondered a moment, then added a couple of rings with richly colored crystalline gems after which she stood back for a final inspection.

Like all great art, the final details are the transformation from merely good to magnificent. I had thought vaguely about earrings, but never about my hands. The deep blue silk gloves made my hands seem more delicate, more shapely, and the jewelry Kelly had selected provide just the right finishing touches.

"My, my, my," she murmured. "You look great."

Nodding, still not sure I could speak, I slowly turned before the mirror to see myself from all sides. Kelly's proud grin was infectious, and by the time I completed my turn, I was also smiling with pride.

"Well, Ran, there's only one more thing to do," she declared.

"What?" I asked. "I can't believe what has happened already.

What more can there be?"

"Why, you need a name, of course. You certainly can't be Randall when you look like that."

"Oh be serious," I laughed, relieved that it was something that seemed such a minor issue. "You know who I am and no one else will ever know, so I don't need any other names."

"Wrong on two counts," Kelly grinned, enjoying herself immensely.

"First," she continued, "Billie Jo already knows enough that an explanation will be needed. But more than that, you need a feminine name to remind yourself to be feminine. When you're dressed up, you need to become entirely a woman, in all respects. Now, what do you want to be called?"

After only a moment's thought, my new name was clear to me, derived closely enough from my own name to be easily remembered yet full of meaning as well. My full name is Benjamin Randall Dewinter, Jr. To avoid confusion with my father, my family had called me Randall, or Randy, which I had shortened to Ran in junior high so I would sound more "grown up." Since then I had formally signed as B. Randall Dewinter, but most people didn't even know my first initial. The chance to be the mysterious Milady Dewinter, of Three Musketeers fame, whose wonderfully complex character was somewhere between devil and survivor, but certainly never an angel, called to me in a way I couldn't ignore so I knew I had to keep my real family name. For my feminine name, I would merge my first initial with my normal name and become "Brandy Dewinter", Ran's sister. The satisfied smile awakening on my face betrayed my success before I started to speak. In a moment, Kelly was smiling, too, well pleased with my choice.

"So, Brandy, where do you want to go for supper?" she asked with a grin.

Damn! This was certainly my day for blushing! Clearly I had become accustomed to dressing up within the house but the risk of exposure in public never failed to bring blood to my cheeks, just as it never failed to excite me.

Shaking my head in automatic reflex, I started to refuse but Kelly already had my arm and was pulling me toward the door. On the way, she grabbed her own purse and got an elegant clutch bag for me. In my bag she put my lipstick and a few other makeup items, along with some cash "for mad money" she giggled. I felt myself being swept up in the excitement, giddy and out of control. The success of the transformation made me really believe I could get away with it, and part of me had to try. As we were about to leave, she looked down and saw that she was still wearing her ice-blue satin pumps, which definitely didn't work with a black leather mini-skirt and black lace blouse. She quickly ran back into the bedroom and returned wearing spike-heeled black boots instead.

"No fair," I giggled, "those heels are not nearly as high as mine."

"Too bad," she laughed in return. "We'll have to get me some other shoes."

Swaying with learned grace in my towering heels, I followed her out the door to Kelly's Camaro. On the way to the passenger door I realized how much I had learned to shorten my stride. With a definite destination in mind rather than just in-house experimentation, my slower pace seemed to drag forever, especially since I felt so exposed in the micro-skirt. Finally I made it to the passenger door and swung it open. I started to insert one leg as I usually did and felt the skirt start to rise up. Quickly I put my legs together and froze.

"What's the matter?" Kelly asked.

"I can't get in the car," I whispered. "My dress is too tight, and much too short!"

Kelly laughed out loud at my predicament, which didn't help a bit.

"Quiet," I hissed helplessly. "Everyone will start looking!"

Controlling her mirth with a visible effort, Kelly told me the secret, "Sit down on the seat first, then pull both legs in together."

I tried her trick, which worked to maintain what little modesty I had left, but I practically had to fall off my high heels to get down to seat level. Getting out was going to be impossible. As Kelly backed down the drive, we passed my pick-up. Only in Texas, I thought, can an investment counselor get away with driving a pick-up to work. I realized that climbing up into those seats would provide a lot more of a show than falling into the Camaro had accomplished. As we entered the street I started to duck down to hide from our neighbors.

"Don't do that," she warned. "You'll just look more obvious. Just remember, you are Brandy Dewinter, Ran's sister. And you are gorgeous. Act proud, as though you have nothing to hide, because sure as can be, as soon as you look like you're hiding something, someone will try to find out what."

With this sage advice I straightened in the seat and began to look around. We went by some of our neighbors, who waved. I smiled and waved back, but the tension sat in my stomach like a heavy ball. The lark we had started on had already become more frightening than fun. Yet, under my fear my excitement maintained itself at an unbelievable level. Never again would I feel my life was boring, that at least was a sure thing.

As we drove along, I started thinking about the total person Brandy needed to become. I had incredible looks, great clothes, a native guide to the trackless realms of femininity. What else did I need? I started to ask Kelly and in that moment realized that my voice, while in tenor range, did not match the rest of Brandy's persona.

I decided Brandy needed a warm contralto I could sustain, rather than a falsetto soprano which would be sure to crack at just the wrong time. To me, a woman's voice has always seemed musical and I wondered if my voice would sound better if I sort of sang every word, rather than just speaking. I straightened up and cleared my throat.

"What's wrong?" Kelly asked.

Holding up a hand to silence her, I concentrated on achieving a pure tone. "What do you think of this for Brandy's voice?" I sang softly.

"Outstanding!" Kelly laughed. "By George, I think you've got it!"

I laughed with her, then giggled as I realized my laugh had reverted to Ran's voice. Trying again, I succeeded in "singing" a warm laugh. Somehow, achieving a feminine voice represented a dividing point for me. From that point on I was Brandy in a way that external appearance alone had not made me. For the first time I really felt like a woman, rather than like a man cross-dressing (even with unbelievable success). I began to relax, my excitement still bubbling inside, but the fear of discovery receding as I put away the thought that there was anything to discover.

"Where do you want to go eat?" Kelly asked once again.

"I think I'm a little over-dressed for McDonalds," I sang.

"Let's go somewhere dark."

Kelly giggled, but then nodded. After a short drive we were pulling into an up-scale restaurant where Ran and Kelly had often dined, though of course Brandy had never been there. Kelly wheeled up to the valet and I realized I had no clue how to get out of the car. She bounced out quickly, but I just sat there in confusion. The valet reached for my door and opened it just as he would for any lady and it seemed as though I had been waiting for just that gesture. Now what should I do?

Swinging my legs out of the car, I tried to keep my trembling knees together, conscious of my inadequate skirt. I placed my heels as close to the car as possible, and reached for the windshield frame for support. Before I found something to hold on to the valet had intercepted my gloved hand and was helping me to my feet. I tried to stand gracefully, and was surprised at how important a steadying hand was in making the transition. Self-consciously I smoothed the skirt of my dress down as far as it would go (little though that was), shook out my surprisingly heavy mane of hair in a rippling cascade from my head to my waist, and looked around for Kelly. Interestingly, the valet had not yet let go of my hand. I looked down at my glove as though the hand it contained belonged to a stranger, then up at the valet. When I met his eyes they were smiling with more than professional friendliness. Once he knew he had my attention he released my hand, with a squeeze so slight I thought I might have imagined it if I had not seen the flicker of a wink at the same time.

"I hope we can show you ladies a good time, tonight," he said courteously. It was clear he intended more meaning than the surface words alone conveyed.

The flush I was cursed with that night flooded my cheeks as I stood in tongue-tied confusion. I dropped my eyes, not realizing until after I had done it that my extended lashes would make this into a flirtation. His smile broadened and he moved out of the way. Searching frantically for Kelly, I saw her grinning at the door. I was going to have to learn that look of secret amusement since it seemed to be so useful to Kelly and to Billie Jo. I wondered if it truly were contagious, and if so, could a pretend woman catch it as well as a real woman. I moved to walk toward her, and only remembered to shorten my stride at the last instant as my tight dress restricted my leg. Placing my first foot carefully in place, I relaxed and let my hips start to swing as I had learned. Behind me, I heard a low but unmistakable wolf whistle. Burning hotter than ever, I started to turn around, then realized that I would surely tumble off my towering shoes if I tried any quick changes of direction. Instead, with only the barest of pauses, I resumed my walk. However, the break in my rhythm had thrown me off stride and I needed to add an extra little wiggle to get my hips moving in sync with my footsteps. This wiggle provoked a masculine chuckle behind me and an answering silver giggle from Kelly.

As soon as I reached her, Kelly grabbed my arm and whispered, "You're shameless! You did that deliberately."

"No, I didn't," I protested, "I just got my feet tangled and

. . ."

 

"Oh, be quiet," Kelly interrupted with another giggle.

"You're not fooling anybody."

She obviously could see the fire burning in my cheeks so she knew how embarrassed I truly was, but her outrageous accusation set her tone for the rest of the evening. At every opportunity, she built on the theme that I was flirting with all the guys. After a while, I began to believe she may have been right, however subconscious it was, for everything I did seemed to convey invitation and certainly provoked interest.

Not surprisingly, there were no tables ready when we entered so Kelly put her name on the list and we moved into the bar for a drink. Slipping into a quiet corner booth, Kelly motioned to the waitress. Kelly ordered a martini, but I decided on a glass of white wine. As I softly sang my order I looked at the waitress, wondering how my voice was working. The waitress barely glanced at me, too busy to pay close attention. Then Kelly whispered she had to visit the powder room, did I want to come along?

Shaking my head quickly, I hissed at her, "I can't go in there, but don't leave me alone!"

Laughing at my predicament, she stood and was abruptly gone.

I glanced nervously around, wondering how many people were staring at me. As my eyes roamed, it seemed I could feel the eyes of most of the men in the room. Without meaning to, unless at some unconscious level, I found myself in eye contact with a tall, muscular man at the bar. He smiled and raised his drink to me. Blushing furiously, I dropped my eyes to my gloved hands. Lustrous waves of dark hair flowed liquidly past my shoulders to frame my face. In a moment, I saw a powerful hand set a drink down on the table before me.

"I believe you ordered wine," I heard a deep voice say. "I intercepted this from the waitress."

I raised my eyes to look at him without moving my head, not realizing until I had again made eye contact that this up-from-under look was another flirtation. I saw an answering smile flow from his eyes and he slid into the booth without specific invitation. He seemed to have captured my gaze, I could not look away. I was afraid that as soon as I did, I would appear so shifty and suspicious that he would start wondering about issues that must remain hidden.

"Most times," he mused pitifully, "when a guy buys a lady a drink, he at least gets a smile and a thank you."

Unable to help myself, I had to grin at his mournful complaint, which was completely invalidated by the broad smile he wore.

"That's better," he chuckled. "I knew you could do it, now what does it take to get you to say something?"

"I don't know," I sang back to him. "What did you have in mind?"

Before he could answer, Kelly arrived back at our table. Her amused expression seemed welded to her smirking face, but her eyes widened at the sight of my table companion.

"Who's this?" she asked with an undertone of amazement.

The tall man waited for me to respond, smiling at the knowledge that I would have to speak again if he did not.

"I don't know," I admitted softly, my eyes still captured by his powerful smile.

Taking pity on me at last, he admitted to Kelly that he had just invited himself over. He introduced himself as Roger Tanyon.

"But call me Dart," he went on, provoking a helpless giggle from me. "Everybody does."

"Why would they do that?" Kelly asked, carrying the conversation since I still sat tongue-tied.

"Because I like to play darts in a pub I go to," he explained. "I got started years ago in college and the nickname stuck, oops, no pun intended."

At this I giggled again, unable to contain myself. Dart and Kelly looked at me quizzically, wondering what had come over me.

Struggling to maintain my singing voice while simultaneously containing my giggles, I finally managed to enter the conversation.

"Tell me, um, Dart," I inquired, "have you ever heard of Milady Dewinter?"

"Yes," he admitted with a grin, acknowledging that I had caught the true pun in his name, and thinking that he understood the significance of my question.

Kelly had not made the connection, and looked at us both as though we were crazy. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"Let me complete the introductions," I replied. Speaking to Dart I said, "My confused and not-terribly-well-read friend here is Kelly Dewinter, my sister-in-law. My name is Brandy Dewinter, and I'm visiting with Kelly and my brother for a while." Looking toward Kelly I continued, "Kelly our new friend here is Dart Tanyon, who seems to have misplaced Athos, Aramis, and Porthos, the Three Musketeers."

Kelly finally made the connection, adding her own blush to the collection I had been maintaining. At that time, our table was called. I would have let it end there but then I saw a look in Kelly's eyes which promised revenge for my fun at her expense.

"Would you like to eat with us?" she offered to Dart. "Surely Dartagnan should be allowed to dine with not one, but two Ladies Dewinter."

"Perhaps," he allowed, standing up so quickly it was clear his reluctance was feigned. "Will you try and poison me like your namesake?"

"Perhaps," we returned in chorus, provoking fits of giggles from Kelly and me and a deeper-toned chuckle from Dart. Kelly, who was still standing, picked up her drink and turned to follow the hostess. As I started to slide from the booth, I found myself staring at Dart's large hand, held out to help me. Placing a gloved hand which suddenly seemed even smaller in his powerful one, I let him help me to stand. Kelly was waiting with her amused smile, but I imagined I could see a thoughtful expression filling in beneath the surface. As Dart followed us to the table, I could feel his eyes tracing the long seams from my impossibly tall heels to my dangerously short skirt. Yet I could only continue the exaggerated swing of my hips made necessary by my spiked pumps.

By now Kelly and I were accustomed to salad for supper and so our orders were placed accordingly. Dart ordered a massive prime rib, making it clear that if it were not rare enough to threaten to get up and walk away, the waiter would have to try again. Our table was in a darkly intimate corner of the restaurant and I could have removed my gloves if we were alone. With our companion, however, I kept them on throughout the meal, passing on the breadsticks and other finger foods. After what seemed a very short time we realized that we had eaten everything in sight. Kelly stood and grabbed my hand.

"Come with me, Brandy," she ordered. "We'll be right back," she smiled at Dart.

Pulling me along behind her, Kelly again headed for the powder room. Though I pulled back at the door, she insisted, dragging me in behind her.

"I had to get you away for a minute," she explained. "For two things. First, you really do need to powder, and to refresh your lipstick."

Taking my purse, she pulled out the essential ingredients, and brought my face back to the unbelievable standard she had set. When we had walked in I thought the room was empty but then I heard a flush and a young woman came out of one of the stalls, pulling down her dress. My glance, attracted by the noise and motion, lingered for a second before I turned away with a fresh blush.

"Good thing I finished your face before you blushed again," Kelly giggled, which provoked an even more pronounced heat to light my cheeks.

"You're going to have to get used to this," she continued. "Keeping your makeup fresh takes attention. I can see I'll have to teach you how to do it for when I'm not around."

"I'm never going out like this except with you!" I protested.

"Perhaps," she chuckled, recalling our own earlier comments.

I was ready to protest more, but the other woman had come close on her way from the powder room. When she was gone, Kelly spoke before I had a chance.

"Now for the second reason I brought you in here," she continued. "We've got to decide what we're going to do with Dart."

"What do you mean, 'do with him'?" I asked. "We leave him here and go home."

"Are you sure you want that?" she asked. "From the way you've been flirting with him, I thought maybe you wanted me to go home alone and let you find your own way."

"I have not been flirting!" I insisted. "You're the one who invited him to join us. Besides, I couldn't possibly go anywhere with him. The whole problem is not to let him know my secret! Besides that, I'm not interested in anyone but you!"

"Wondered if you'd get around to that last reason," she grinned. "You do seem to have your excuses lined up. I wonder how many you really believe."

"Look, I'm not mad or jealous," she declared. "I think it would be a real kick to see how far you could go before he found out. How about if we give him our number and see what develops?"

By this time I was reduced to wordless spluttering, which provoked the usual amused grin from Kelly. Glancing in the mirror for final inspection, she again grabbed my gloved hand and pulled me back into the main restaurant.

When we reached our table, it was to find Dart glancing at his watch.

"I hadn't realized how late it was," he said. "The check is taken care of. Can I offer you ladies another drink in the bar?"

"No, thanks," Kelly replied. "We drove this evening and I've had enough."

"Then I can't offer you a ride home, either?" he asked.

"No, thank you," I said softly, "but thank you for supper.

We've had a wonderful time."

At this Kelly poked me in the ribs, which I hardly felt through the corset, and grinned her I-told-you-so grin which I didn't understand for a moment. "Flirt," her lips silently accused, bringing back the heat to my cheeks.

"I hope I can see you again, some time," Dart opened the negotiations, his eyes fixed solely on me.

Kelly noticed his gaze but chose to interpret it as a plural invitation, or at least chose to take action. She pulled a notepad from her purse and quickly wrote "Dewinter" and our phone number. Remembering that I was only "visiting", Dart asked how long I expected to be in town.

"I don't know," I replied, "it depends on what I find to do."

This provoked another poke from Kelly, which began to make me glad for the protection of the corset. I glared at her smirk, then looked back at Dart. Kelly offered him the note, which he took and then shook her hand, obviously conscious and careful of the power of his grip. He offered his hand to me, which I reached for expecting an equivalent handshake. Instead, my gloved hand once captured in his was raised to his lips for a courtly kiss. He looked up at me with sparkling eyes. The previous heat I had felt in my cheeks seemed cool in comparison with the raging inferno I knew must now be showing. In reflex I lowered my own eyes, then found them returning to him, unconsciously repeating the flirtation caused by looking through my long lashes. Kelly's erupting giggle brought both of us back to earth and I turned to follow her from the restaurant. I glanced back over my shoulder, but only saw my thick mane of hair. In reflex I tossed my head to move my hair away which accentuated my gesture, making it obvious that I was looking back. I saw Dart's face, but realized his glance was aimed lower, at those long accent seams and the rhythmic sway of my hips. The motion of my hair caused him to raise his line of sight, just in time to see me turn back away with another flip of my waves of hair. It was clear to everyone in the restaurant that our attention was on each other, and I began to see what Kelly had meant by being flirtatious. It seemed flirting was merely being polite, but with the special flavors made necessary by the features belonging to a woman, like long hair, high heels, and a soft voice. Sure, that was it, I tried to convince myself.

The same parking lot attendant met us at the door, and quickly went to get Kelly's Camaro. He bounced out of the driver's seat and then left Kelly standing there, tip in hand, as he hurried around to the passenger door. This he opened for me with a blinding smile and offered his hand to help me into the car. Carefully keeping my knees together I let him slow my fall into the seat and then swung my legs inside. Realizing he had missed his tip, I fumbled in my purse for a few dollars, and only found a ten. As I held this in confusion, he took it from my gloved hand.

"Thank you, miss!" he exclaimed. "If you're ever in the neighborhood, drop in. We'll treat you right!" This time his wink was undeniable.

Kelly slipped into her side and started the car. As soon as we were away from the entrance, she turned to me and cheered, "You're a hit, girl! Dart would have been in your pants in a heartbeat, and that attendant was drooling so bad I wanted to offer him a Kleenex."

"Oh be quiet," I protested, but I knew she was right. Thanks to Kelly's matchless skill with makeup and clothes, I knew I was pretty, but so was she. For some reason, Brandy was more interesting to men than Kelly. I wondered why. I was dressed more elegantly and the gloves were a major hit even beside their function of hiding my masculine hands, but it seemed something more. I looked at Kelly and thought about our differences. Given that we both looked beautiful, the differences were her bubbling personality which went well with her angelic face, against my quiet reserve which seemed to be a careful control on the tendencies hinted at by my more worldly appearance. I wondered which factor was more significant. Or, was it just that, as a man I unconsciously knew what would attract men and found myself doing those things without realizing it? I had to agree, if I had wanted either of those men, I would have had an invitation in an instant.

"Let's go home," I suggested to change the subject. "My feet are killing me, and I've got to get out of this corset."

"Now you know what it's like," Kelly laughed. "Do you feel guilty, Ran, as a man, for being responsible for the pain women have to go through?"

"I'm not Ran," I sang. "I'm his sister Brandy, and I don't feel guilty about anything right now. Maybe I should about some things, but it wouldn't be about the sacrifices women make to please men. They're worth it!"

When we finally made it home, we were both too tired to do anything except strip, wash, and go to sleep. We didn't even get dressed in our flowing nightgowns. As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about my first truly public trip dressed as a woman and how successful it had been. I knew I would have to do it again.

  

  

  

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