How I Spent My Summer Vacation

by C. Sprite

 

Chapter Five

 

I didn't wake up with a splitting headache the next morning, as I had after my night of wine drinking, but my scalp hurt from sleeping with the curlers all night. As I sat up, another difference from yesterday was immediately noticeable. The semitransparent bodice of the nightgown, which yesterday just flopped emptily against my chest, was now filled with breasts, my breasts. The weight of the forms pulled at the skin of my chest and the breasts swayed while I walked to the bathroom. I felt really humiliated. I had lost what I thought was a simple bet, and now I would have to dress and act like a girl for ten more days. Further, Lizbeth was in charge of virtually everything that I did and could choose to humiliate me more if I didn't cooperate. I couldn't help but wonder if she had a more malicious agenda.

After washing the sleep from my eyes, I put on the lightweight gown and mules and walked downstairs.

"Good morning, Ashley Michelle," Lizbeth said cheerily as I neared the bottom of the stairs.

"Morning, Lizbeth. What's for breakfast?"

"Eggs, cereal, pancakes, and French toast. The usual stuff. Whatever you feel like making."

"Make? Me? I can't cook."

"Sure you can. It's easy to make simple breakfast foods. Come on, I'll show you."

Lizbeth put a frilly pink apron on me and pulled me over to the stove. "What do you want to eat?"

"Pancakes sounded good."

"Okay. There are basically three ways to make pancakes. From scratch, but I don't recommend that, from a basic mix, or from a complete mix. A basic mix requires you to add eggs, oil, and milk. A complete mix only requires water. The complete mixes have gotten so good over the past ten years that you can hardly taste the difference between it and the basic mixes that require fresh eggs and milk. The pancakes don't rise quite as much, but we use a complete mix here in the house anyway.

It only took a few minutes to prepare the mix and heat the pan, and in ten minutes we were eating fresh pancakes. I had never realized that cooking could be so easy. Mom always seemed to work so hard when cooking. I guess she still used the basic mix for pancakes. These pancakes were quite a bit thinner than the ones that Mom made.

As we ate I said, "Lizbeth, why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what, Ashley?"

"Trying to turn me into a female?"

Lizbeth stopped eating and looked at me. She didn't answer immediately but finally said, "Ashley, dear, I'm not trying to turn you into a female. I'm only trying to help you fit in while you're dressed as a female. Girls and boys behave very differently. Unless you want everyone to know that you're a boy in girl's clothes, you have to learn to behave like a girl would. That's not to say that there aren't girls who behave like boys, but people have unkind names for them. If you're going to be dressed as a teenage girl, you must try to act like a normal teenage girl. As I said yesterday, you should observe us closely and do what we do."

"But why are you dressing me like a girl?"

"I'll tell you the day you resume wearing boy clothes. Not before. Besides, as I said last night, I think that you secretly want it."

I was unsatisfied with that answer but I knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't relent so I changed the topic.

"What do we do today?"

"After you shower and dress, I'll show you again how to make up your face. After today you'll have it do it by yourself, so pay careful attention. I'll also show you how to fix your hair again. Then we'll spend a couple of hours practicing with a full tray of dishes and glasses. Serving hors d'oeuvres is simple. Serving the main course and then retrieving the dishes is the hardest part of this job. We try to allow enough room between tables for the waitresses, but people are always shifting chairs around. You practically have to climb over people sometimes. They seem oblivious to your difficulties and you must never spill anything on a guest. If you feel your self slipping or falling, it would be better for you to fall on a full tray of food, rather than spilling a morsel on a guest."

"I understand."

 

After breakfast I hurried upstairs to shower and dress. Lizbeth had told me which of the dresses she wanted me to wear from among those we had bought at the thrift store. The basic, navy blue sheath was the closest thing to the waitress uniform that I would have to wear if I worked for Nicole. She also told me to wear the navy blue shoes with the four-inch stiletto heels again.

Showering was another new experience. Yesterday had been unusual, but showering with breasts, even if they had no sensation, was titillating. When I reached down to wash my hairless legs, the water drummed on the shower cap and my breasts hung straight down and pulled on my chest. My poor genitals looked small and puny in their hairless condition, and I wondered if they would ever be the same after being compressed between my legs for ten days.

After drying myself and dressing, I went back downstairs. My biggest problem had been with the corset, but if I didn't wear it, I would never have gotten the dress closed. It had taken all my strength to get it closed enough to get dressed by myself. All the clothes had been selected while I was wearing it, so everything required it now. As I tied the laces off, I was extremely startled to see a new development I hadn't noticed last night. Because the breast forms were attached to me like real breasts, and the corset pushed everything up and out, a dramatic cleavage had appeared where the real skin from my chest was pulled by the forms.

Lizbeth was all ready and she started right in on my face. There were significantly fewer things on the table today because she had determined yesterday what to use on me. She had me apply most of the stuff while she supervised. The most difficult thing for me to learn was drawing my eyebrows with the special pencil. Even putting on mascara was easier.

With my face complete, Lizbeth showed me how to fix my hair. I learned a lot of little tricks that I would never have known without her expert help, and when I finished, I looked as good as I had yesterday. I wondered how I'd look tomorrow when I had to do it by myself.

 

We spent about two hours practicing with the full tray, and my arms were aching by the time we were done. Lizbeth had reorganized the furniture a little to make it more difficult than it was yesterday. A couple of times, as I passed her, she pushed her chair backwards into me. The first time I almost dropped the whole tray because I was so startled by the movement. She told me that I had to be prepared for that all the time. People wouldn't always look before repositioning their chair, and sometimes they stood up quickly, assuming that no one was near them. One time a man had partially stood and moved his chair back a few inches, just as a waitress was passing. A rear chair foot had come down on  her foot, a fraction of a second before the man sat back down. With his full weight in the chair, the waitress screamed and dropped her tray, right on his head. It was all an accident of course, and entirely his fault, but the company picked up the bill for the dry cleaning. By the end of the two hours Lizbeth said that I was ready for the real thing.

"I can't believe that your waitresses have to wear such high heels. My feet are killing me."

"They don't. Tomorrow you'll wear a flat soled shoe like a running shoe."

"Running shoes? Then why did I have to practice in four inch heels?"

"Because it makes it more difficult to keep your balance. That's what you were practicing. Today you're practicing on a nice, flat, solid floor. Tomorrow you'll be serving in a grass covered yard. There will be times when the surface will seem like you're walking in heels. You encounter clumps of grass, and solid chunks of soil, that will try to upset your balance."

"Oh."

"Don't worry, you'll do fine. You can take all the time you wish when serving the hors d'oeuvres. You'll only have to rush when serving the main entree. Picking up the dishware afterwards can be done at a more leisurely pace."

"Okay, what now?"

"It's almost noon. Nicole will be here to pick us up soon. We need to get a few things."

"What sort of things?"

"You'll need some shoes for the Fifties dance, for one thing. You can't wear any of your present shoes with that black gown."

"I can't even fit into that dress, remember. The waist was inches too small."

"I know, but the corset can be closed down enough so that you can wear the dress."

"But I can barely breathe now."

"Oh Ashley, we can easily take you down a couple of more inches. By Sunday, you'll be used to the way that you currently wear the corset and a couple of more inches won't be bad at all."

"I think that I should skip the dance, and I don't have any money for more clothes."

"That's okay. Nicole is going to advance you the money on your salary. You'll need a pair of work shoes also, in order to waitress."

"Now hold on. I agreed to spend up to my two hundred dollars, but that's all. I don't mind buying the work shoes, but I draw the line at buying shoes for a dance."

"Our agreement was that I'd pick out your clothes and you'd pay the tab. I only applied the two hundred dollar limit to my liability. We can watch the tape if you want. Besides Ashley, honey, no real women would be caught dead wearing anything but the right shoes with that black gown. You have to have the proper shoes or every woman there is going to be trying to figure out why you don't. Do you want to go through that kind of scrutiny?"

I didn't want to call extra attention to myself; I was scared enough as it was. "Okay, Lizbeth. We'll buy the shoes."

"Good girl. You'll need some stockings too. The one pair that I gave you aren't going to last. We might as well pick those up while we're out. Don't worry. I'll keep track of how much you spend," she said smiling.

 

After parking the car at the Mall we had visited yesterday, the three of us walked to the store that was having the shoe sale. The shelves were just as full as they had been yesterday, despite the crowds of women buying shoes. Lizbeth found a pair of shoes with five-inch heels and a double ankle strap that she had seen yesterday and pulled me over to the seating area so I could try them on. They had to be that high, she explained, or the dress would drag on the ground. I walked around and they felt fine, even if I felt that I was going to tip over from the angle of the shoes and the weight of my large new breasts. As I was taking them off, Nicole brought several other styles for me to try. I wound up trying them all on while Lizbeth and Nicole argued the merits of each pair. To me they were almost the same, with only minor styling differences. They finally agreed on a pair and then went searching for another pair that would be the free pair. They each brought back four or five pairs for me to try on. As I modeled each, they talked about how this pair or that one, would work with a particular dress or skirt that we had bought at the thrift store. I knew that having the right shoes was important, but never knew that so much thought went into selecting a pair of shoes to wear. By the time we were done, I was so tired of listening to the debate that I found myself agreeing to buy three more pairs just to end the discussion. We left the store with four pairs of shoes.

Our next stop was the clothing discounter where we had bought the lingerie. Like yesterday it was crowded with women shoppers. We gently pushed and squeezed our way through to the pantyhose and stocking counter where Lizbeth and Nicole each picked out a handful of packages that contained different colors and textures. I expected them to sort through the selections and return some to the racks, but they quickly turned and pulled me along with them. Our last stop, in this store, was the lingerie section. They said that I needed a few additional slips and chemises. By this time I was just going along with whatever they said and watched as they selected an armload of sealed packages.

Our last stop in the Mall was to pick up a pair of work shoes at a uniform store that carried a good selection of shoes. I found a nice comfortable pair, resembling women's running shoes, after trying on about a dozen different styles.

As we left the uniform store, we ran into some friends of Lizbeth and Nicole. I was introduced and we stood around for about fifteen minutes chatting. Actually, I stood around, and they chatted. I supposed that these were some of the nice girls that Lizbeth had promised to introduce me to, but this wasn't how I'd expected to be introduced.

After we parted, Lizbeth and Nicole talked about the 'friends' that we had just left. They discussed their clothes, jewelry, perfumes, and things that they had discussed. I listened in rapt fascination.

Leaving the Mall, Lizbeth and Nicole decided to visit the thrift store again. I made up my mind that I wasn't going to buy any more clothes, but I was ignored and wound up modeling more skirts, blouses, and dresses. The 'acceptable' pile was growing fast despite my repeated statements that I didn't need any more clothes. As it neared dinnertime, Lizbeth and Nicole stopped bringing in clothes and started looking at pocketbooks. They selected half a dozen and picked up the clothes while I put my own dress back on. They had already checked out when I got to the front of the store and I had no choice but to help them carry everything to the car.

Once we were on our way to the house I said, "What am I going to do with all these clothes. I'll have to change three times a day just to wear everything once, before the ten days are up."

"A girl can never have too many clothes," Lizbeth said. "You never know what's going to come up that'll require a different outfit. With the things that you bought today, you can mix and match skirts and blouses and you'll be set for almost any situation."

I gave up and just stared out the window. In ten days time I was going to have a hundred pounds of clothes that I couldn't use. I guess that I could always donate them to the same thrift store.

 

I was pressed into service to help prepare the evening meal since Nicole hadn't prepared anything in advance. She showed me how to cut up a whole chicken and then ready it for cooking. We mixed up an egg and flour batter to coat the chicken and then lightly sprinkled on flavored breadcrumbs.I also helped prepare potatoes for a casserole, and steamed broccoli. I felt very proud of myself for my participation in cooking the meal, feeling that I could do it alone next time if I had to.

After dinner Suzanne had to go to the hospital to assist in an operation and Nicole had to go to her shop to do some preparation work for tomorrow's wedding reception. Lizbeth and I did the cleanup and put the leftovers away.

When we were done, Lizbeth said, "I have to get ready for a date. Would you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Thanks, Ashley. Put on your black mini-skirt with the gold chain belt, and your plum blouse. Those heels are fine, but put on a pair of the smoke colored stockings that we bought today, and wear the two gold necklaces that I loaned you. Wear the watch, bracelet, and rings that I lent you also. And fix your hair and makeup. When my date gets here, please let him in and offer him a beverage. Then just keep him company until I'm ready, okay?"

"Okay."

"Thanks, Ashley. I'll do the same for you someday."

I thought to myself 'I don't think that will be necessary', but I didn't say anything.

 

I was brushing my hair when the doorbell rang. I was all dressed and just finishing my grooming. I hurried to the door and opened it. A guy that looked to be about eighteen was standing there. I said, "Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Larry. I'm here to pick up Lizbeth. We have a date tonight."

I stepped back, opening the door so that he could enter. "Come in, Larry. I'm Ashley."

He stepped into the house far enough so that I could close the door. He was handsome, with dark hair and a quick smile. He looked to be about five foot ten.

"I thought that Lizbeth only had two sisters."

"She does. I'm her cousin from Massachusetts. I'm just visiting."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Ashley. I can see that beautiful women run in your whole family."

"Mostly we walk," I said smiling.

It was an old joke but Larry started laughing like it was the funniest thing that he'd ever heard. "That was great. I don't meet very many witty blondes. Especially beautiful, witty blondes."

"Really? Half the blonde jokes in the world have been created by people observing blondes who are trying to be witty and funny. Blonde jokes are my specialty."

"Honest? Tell me some."

"Okay, but let's go into the living room. Lizbeth should be down in a few minutes and I don't want her to think that I'm not being a proper hostess. Would you like something to drink? Soda? Juice? Lemonade?"

"Nothing thanks. Just tell me your favorite blonde jokes."

We had moved into the living room and Larry sat down while I stood and told him blonde jokes. When Lizbeth came down, Larry had tears rolling down his cheeks. He was the perfect audience member for a comedian. He laughed at practically everything I said except my name.

"What's going on here? I heard the laughing all the way upstairs."

Larry was trying to get himself under control so I said, "I was just telling Larry some of my favorite blonde jokes."

"Your cousin is hilarious, Liz. I've been to comedy shows where I didn't laugh so much."

"Ashley was hilarious when she first arrived but she's been a little down recently. I'm glad that she's getting her sense of humor back."

I shot Lizbeth a venomous look, then smiled sweetly and said, "I just have the one act, I'm afraid, but everybody loves blonde jokes."

"I'd like you to meet my friend George. He's a great joke teller also. Maybe we could double sometime."

"Ashley is only going to be with us for a few days," Lizbeth said. "I think that all her nights are already set for the rest of her visit."

"That's too bad. I know that you and George would have hit it off."

"We'd better get going if we're going to make the start of the movie," Lizbeth said.

"Okay. Hey, would you like to come with us, Ashley?" Larry asked. "We're just going to catch a movie and then get some pizza afterwards."

"Thanks, Larry, but I'm expecting my mom to call tonight. I'd better stay here."

"Your mom would understand, I'm sure. Don't you agree, Liz?"

"Yes, why don't you come, Ashley? It would do you good to get out of the house instead of staying here alone. Get your purse and we can all go."

They both just stood there waiting for me to get ready. I was surprised that Lizbeth wanted me to come along on her date. If she had helped just a little I could have avoided going. I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Okay," before going to my room to get a purse. I took the pink one and transferred the contents into a black one that we had picked up at the thrift today.

Larry and Lizbeth were waiting outside so I turned off the lights and pulled the door closed. When we got to the car, Larry held the passenger door open. Lizbeth got in first and I sat on the outside. I had already learned not to get into the car like a male does, so I sat on the seat and swung both legs in. Larry waited until I was settled and then closed the door.

 

Larry sat in the middle seat in the theatre, with his right arm around Lizbeth. I sat with my hands on my lap and enjoyed the movie. I was glad that he didn't put his other arm around me.

After the movie we walked down the street to a pizza place where we ordered a pizza and then talked about the similarities and differences in pizza in different parts of the country. As Larry was telling us about deep-dish Chicago pies, a very tall, good-looking guy approached the booth where we were sitting.

"Larry. Lizbeth. How are you guys?" He was talking to them, but never took his eyes off me. I looked down at the table, afraid to continue eye contact.

"Hi George," Larry said. "I thought you were going to the concert tonight?"

"Things didn't work out. Bill couldn't get out after his dad caught him with a joint of MJ in his room and I didn't want to go alone."

"That sounds like Bill, all right. Some day he'll wise up, I hope. Hey, I'd like you meet Lizbeth's cousin Ashley. She's visiting from back east."

George smiled and extended his hand. "Hi Ashley. It's nice to meet you. Welcome to Illinois."

"Hi George. It's nice to meet you also."

"Want to join us, George? We just ordered a pie."

"Love to. I ordered one also, but I thought that I was going to have to eat alone." George sat down next to me and I moved over a little to give him more room because I had been sitting in the middle of the booth's seat.

"I was just talking about you tonight," Larry said. "I told Ashley that you guys should meet. She specializes in blonde jokes."

"Really? We'll have to compare jokes sometime."

"Ashley's booked for the rest of her visit," Lizbeth said. "It would have been great if we could have doubled."

"What are you doing Sunday evening, Ashley?" George asked me.

"Uh, we're going to a Fifties dance."

"You are? Great, I am too. The one at the community center, right?"

"I don't know," I said, looking at Lizbeth.

"Yes, that's the one," Lizbeth said. "What are you going as, George?"

"A fifties band singer. It seems like half the guys I know are going as Marlon Brando type motorcycle punks or greasers, but I wanted to be different. I borrowed a suit with sequined lapels from my grandfather. The pants are pegged and I even got one of those extra skinny ties that they wore back then."

"Wow, that would fit right in with Ashley's costume. She's going as a movie starlet in a black gown."

"Kewl. Hey Ashley, would you go with me?"

"Of course she would, George," Lizbeth said. "Larry is coming for me at seven-thirty. Why don't you come over then?"

"Kewl, I'll be there. Ah, here's one of the pies we ordered."

I just sat there in shock, as a piece of pie was set in front of me. My cousin had just arranged a date for me, with a boy. I know that I was dressed as a girl, but I wasn't interested in going on dates with boys. I didn't know what I could do though. I couldn't very well stand up and proclaim that I was a male. I picked up the piece of pizza and began to nibble at it.

 

We stayed at the pizza place for almost two hours. I just sat and listened for the most part, learning all about Larry and George as they told us about their interests and plans for the future. I was glad when Lizbeth said that we should be getting home. I said goodbye to George and he said that he'd see me in two days.

Arriving at the house I thanked Larry for taking me and said goodnight. He and Lizbeth stayed in the car for a while after I went inside.

I had undressed and prepared for bed by the time that Lizbeth came in. I hurried out before she could walk up to her bedroom.

I said angrily, "Lizbeth, how could you do that to me? I can't go to the dance with George."

"Didn't you like him?" she asked breezily. "It seemed like you did."

"That has nothing to do with it," I replied. "He's a boy."

"Actually," she said smiling, "I think of Larry and George as men. They're both eighteen and will be starting college in a few months."

"You know what I mean."

"Oh Ashley, the dance will be more fun if you have a date. Otherwise you'll just sit around watching everyone else dance. This will be more fun. Trust me."

"But what about after the dance?"

"What about it?"

"You know."

She just stared at me.

"He'll expect me to kiss him."

"So kiss him."

"But he's a boy. I can't kiss another boy."

"Ashley Michelle," she said seriously, "you know very well that you don't look anything like a boy. I'm sorry, hon, but the truth is that you look more like a girl than most girls I know. George thinks you're a girl, so he'll never think there's anything wrong with kissing you goodnight. Just pucker up and no one will be the wiser."

Lizbeth turned and walked upstairs while I stood there with my mouth open.

 

Nicole woke me up at six a.m. the following morning. "Time to get up, Ashley. We have to get to the shop to finish the food preparation for the wedding reception. I put your uniforms in your closet last night. Chop chop. Let's get going."

As she left the bedroom I threw back the cover and walked to the bathroom so I could splash some cold water on my face to help wake me up. I stared at my face in the mirror for a few seconds and then turned to start the water in the shower so it could reach the proper temperature. Taking off my nightgown and panties, I put on the shower cap, and stepped into the stall.

The shower woke me up and invigorated me, and after drying myself, I hurried to dress and put on my makeup. I found two uniform dresses in the closet; both were black with white trim around the neck and sleeves and almost reached my knees. Grabbing one and putting it on, I could only raise the rear zipper as far as my bra so I left it there and finished dressing. On the front of the dress, above my left breast, there was a plastic nameplate with the Power Puff Caterer's logo. Engraved into the plate was the name Ashley Michelle. The plate didn't appear new so it must have been made for the waitress that Lizbeth had talked about. I had already laced my new shoes so I only had to pull them on and tie the laces.

With my face and hair done, I walked down to the basement. Lizbeth and Suzanne were already there, munching on bagels. I didn't feel like cooking anything so I grabbed a bagel, sliced it in half, and buttered it. Nicole came down while I was eating, yawned, and prepared a bagel for herself. Instead of eating it, she wrapped it in plastic and announced that it was seven o'clock.

"Time to get going, girls. Lots to do before the reception." As I stood up, Nicole stepped behind me and zipped my dress. "All ready, Ashley?"

"I guess so."

"Good girl. Just relax and you'll be fine."

"Okay, Nicole."

After cleaning off the table and walking upstairs and out to the car, I suddenly realized that there was something wrong. Suzanne was dressed in black slacks, white shirt, black bow-tie, and black vest, while Nicole was wearing a dark blue pants suit, and Lizbeth was wearing kitchen 'whites' that consisted of white pants with a white, short-sleeved top that extended below her hips.

"How come I'm the only one wearing a dress?" I asked out loud.

My three cousins smiled. "Because you're the only waitress here," Lizbeth said. "Suzanne is the bartender, I only work in the kitchen, and Nicole is the company boss and only supervises the serving. Don't worry. The other waitresses will be wearing the same uniform as you."

I accepted that, but I still felt funny. I always seemed to be dressed in more feminine clothing than everybody else. Why hadn't I cut my hair like my mother wanted?

 

Other people were arriving at the business when we got there, and everyone flooded in as Nicole unlocked and opened the doors. I was introduced to the other girls while ovens were being turned on and refrigerator doors opened and closed. Food began to appear on counters and the preparation began. Actually, a lot of the food had been prepared already and stored. It only had to be heated up or have the cooking finished. After Lizbeth put a thick black hair net on my head to keep stray hairs from falling into the food, I was moved around the kitchen to perform different tasks. Over the next few hours I learned to perform a number of food preparation steps, all minor things of course.

Just before noon we finished loading the fresh food into the special warming cabinets and rolled them out to the trucks. Special motorized lift tailgates raised them to the bed level and they were rolled in and secured. Our small motorcade then moved out and headed towards the home where the wedding reception was to be held. It only took five minutes to travel the short distance.

The tent and tables had been set up two days earlier and we immediately got to work putting the tablecloths down on the tables and setting the places. The guests started to arrive as the other waitresses and myself were finishing the preparations, but so far no one had looked at me with the slightest suspicion and I was feeling more confident with each passing hour.

Since the weather was so nice, we would be serving the hors d'oeuvres to guests on the lawn outside the tent. I was given a tray by one of the kitchen people at a workstation erected near one of our trucks and I carried it to the area where the guests were standing or sitting. Just as I had practiced, I served tray after tray of finger food. When people were sitting I bent at the hips and pushed my tush into the air. I caught glimpses of men staring at me from time to time so I assumed that I was doing it right. I felt ridiculous but I noticed that the other waitresses were doing the same thing. It made me think about the way that women use their bodies and clothing to entice males.

It must have been two hours before the wedding party arrived. I supposed they had gone to take the wedding pictures at a studio or special location. As soon as we had filled water glasses, placed baskets of rolls on tables, and put out butter and condiments, Nicole stepped outside the tent and held up a chime, striking it with a small metal bar. People immediately started filing into the tent. Someone had put place cards down and people began looking for their assigned seats at the tables. Once everyone was seated, the bridal party was introduced by Nicole and they walked through the tent to the head table as the guests applauded. We immediately moved through the tent pouring wine for the toast.

With the initial formalities completed we began bringing in the entrees as quickly as we could. The guests had their choice of prime rib, chicken, or vegetable lasagna. I was carrying in the chicken dinners and asked everyone who didn't already have a plate in front of them if they wanted chicken.

When everyone was served we slowed our pace considerably, just refilling glasses, coffee and teacups, or breadbaskets as needed. After everyone had finished eating we moved in again to remove dinner dishes and pour more beverages. The wedding cake was rolled in and we got out of the way as the post-dinner ceremonies started. When the cake was cut into slices we again moved in to carry cake to all the guests.

Most of the guests moved outside again after they had eaten their cake, although some lingered to sit and talk while we cleared the tables. Suzanne and the other bartender continued to serve drinks while everything was packed up and loaded into the trucks. Guests had already begun to leave and the crowd had thinned considerably by the time Suzanne and the other bartender began packing up the bar at six o'clock. We quickly loaded the last truck and headed back to the shop.

The next few hours were spent in emptying the truck and cleaning everything, in preparation for tomorrow's catering activities. It was after ten o'clock when we arrived back at the house and I was exhausted after putting in the hardest day that I had ever worked. We ate a dinner of left over food from the wedding meal and then went to bed. I decided to shower before getting into bed because I wanted to get the smell of food off me and out of my hair. As I showered and shampooed, I realized that at some point during the day I had stopped worrying about anybody discovering my true gender. I had been accepted by everyone as just another teenage girl. For the first time I began to wonder what I was going to do when the ten days were up if everyone believed me to be a girl. Before I climbed into bed, I put my hair up in rollers.

 

Six a.m. came long before I was ready for it but I got up quickly and prepared for the new day. I showered again, did my makeup, and then my hair. I just had time for a toasted bagel and glass of juice before we had to leave for the shop.

Today's job was a luncheon party at a local park as part of a class reunion gathering. We had cooked the food and left for the park by eleven o'clock, so by noon we were serving lunch to two hundred twenty people. We were finished and on our way back to the shop by two o'clock. Everything had gone very smoothly, except for one small incident. As I was leaning over a table, replacing an empty breadbasket with a filled one, a man pinched my tush. It didn't hurt, but I was startled and my sharp intake of breath was noticed by everybody at the table. A woman sitting next to the mischievous assailant, whom I estimated to be about fifty, said to him, "If you pinch another young girl I'm going to start sharpening my Loraina Bobbit commemorative wiener trimming knife." Everybody laughed, and the man, a bit red-faced at having been caught and publicly ridiculed, apologized to me.

We had completed washing everything and were back at the house by four o'clock. Tonight was the Fifties dance, and I would have preferred not to go, but everyone was insistent so I resignedly started to get ready. I took a shower, shampooing my hair twice to get the smell of chicken and grease out of it, but I didn't put it up in rollers because I knew that it wouldn't be dry enough by seven o'clock to work with. I hated blow dryers, preferring to let my hair dry naturally, without the heat that can damage it. I dressed in my now normal underwear of garter belt, stockings, panties, bra, control brief, chemise and corset. I still hadn't gotten used to having to wear a bra to support the heavy breast forms all the time and wished that I hadn't agreed to have them glued on. Lizbeth hadn't told me to wear anything in particular for now, so I put on a denim miniskirt and light blue blouse. The skirt was the closest thing to jeans that she'd allow me to wear. The only blue shoes that I had were the navy ones with the four-inch heels so I put those on. I certainly couldn't wear pink, brown, or green shoes with blue denim.

As we begin to eat dinner Lizbeth said to me, "Ashley, drink very little. You're not going to be able to use the bathroom at the dance with that dress on. You'll have to strip completely down to relieve yourself."

"I don't think that I'm going to be able to fit into that dress anyway. Can't I wear something normal? Please, Lizbeth?"

"No, you have to wear a fifties costume or you can't get in."

"Great! I'd rather stay home tonight anyway. I'm really exhausted."

"You're just nervous because it's your first date."

"It is not. It's just my first date with a boy." Suzanne, Nicole, and Lizbeth all giggled at my discomfort. "I can't believe that I'm doing this, any of it. I can't believe that my own cousin arranged for me to have a date with another boy."

"Not another boy, a boy," Lizbeth said. "You're a girl for another eight days. Remember that or you might slip up. Just keep telling yourself that you're a beautiful young woman on a date. Smile, giggle, laugh, and have a wonderful time."

I scowled.

"Don't make faces like that," Suzanne said. "It makes crease lines in your face and will hurt your natural beauty."

I scowled again, but instead of lecturing me they just giggled.

Once the kitchen was cleaned, the others went upstairs to begin getting ready. I relaxed and watched television until Lizbeth called me upstairs. She was nearly ready and wanted to help me dress before she finished. She was still wearing a bathrobe and only had to put on her fifties clothes. I followed her to my bedroom.

"Lizbeth, I'd really rather not go. My stomach is doing flips. I can't go out on a date with a boy."

She looked at me. "I know what you need." She left the bedroom and returned a few minutes later holding a prescription medicine bottle. "Nicole was given these after hurting her back during a struggle with a suspect while she was a police officer. They're some kind of muscle relaxant, and I know that they always mellow her out."

After struggling for a minute with the child-proof cap, Lizbeth was finally able to remove a tablet, and, using a butter-knife that she had brought along, she cut or broke it in half, putting one half back into the bottle. Retrieving a cup of water from the bathroom, she handed me the half tablet, which I popped into my mouth and swallowed with help from a small sip of water.

"You'll feel a little better very shortly. Now, let's get you dressed."

I removed the denim skirt, half slip, and blouse after kicking off my shoes, leaving me in just corset and underwear. Lizbeth quickly untied the laces of the corset and removed it so I could replace my bra with a black strapless bustier. Lizbeth then replaced the corset and began pulling on the laces with all her might. It felt like I was being cut in half, just like the tablet that she had sliced in half. She pulled and tugged despite my protests and pleas for her to stop.

"Just take shallow breaths and relax."

I managed to say, "Shallow breaths is all I can manage. I can't do this. Loosen this thing."

"You'll get used to it in a little while. Just walk around and breathe evenly while I go find a tape measure."

After tying off the laces, Lizbeth left me standing there as she went to look for the tape. I walked around for a few minutes and then began to wonder why the muscle relaxant hadn't kicked it. Picking up the bottle, I fished out the other half of the tablet and popped it into my mouth, then took another small sip of water from the cup just before Lizbeth returned.

"Found it. Let's see what we have here." She wrapped the tape around me and exclaimed, "Wonderful, we only need about another inch and the dress should close."

"Another inch? Lizbeth, I can't breathe now."

"Oh, stop complaining. You'll get used to it within an hour and it' seem completely natural. You're just used to the way that you've been wearing it; try to breathe more often, taking smaller breaths."

She untied the laces and started pulling again, and as I felt the corset getting tighter, I knew there was no way that I'd get used to this in an hour. My body was rebelling against the constriction, and as my internal organs were pushed into new positions, I could practically feel my ribs being bent inwards. Lizbeth measured me and tightened again and again until she was satisfied. Then she tied off the laces and announced that we were ready to finish getting dressed. My upper chest had seemed to expand as everything above my hips was squeezed upwards and outwards, and my cleavage was impressive. The bustier pushed my breasts together, adding to the effect even more. The gown would cover the breast forms completely, but anyone standing close might get an eyeful of cleavage if I moved the wrong way.

"Lizbeth, I can't breathe," I tried to wheeze convincingly.

"Oh, stop complaining, you'll be alright. If you couldn't talk I might be concerned, but you'll be fine. You just have to get used to it. Let's put on your shoes."

I sat on the bed and raised my legs one at a time so Lizbeth could place the black, five-inch heeled shoes on my feet. After helping to restore me to a standing position, Lizbeth handed me the opera length gloves that came with the dress. I pulled them on while she hurried out to check on something. Returning a couple of minutes later, Lizbeth taped two pictures, that she had printed from the Internet, up on my mirror. One was a publicity shot of Marilyn Monroe, and the other was a photo of a Marilyn impersonator. Without saying a word, she hurried out again as I stood there staring at the pictures.

a publicity shot of Marilyn Monroe		a photo of a Marilyn impersonator

After walking around the bedroom for a few minutes, I stopped in front of the full-length mirror and struck a pose like the one made by the Marilyn impersonator. I leaned back to more prominently display my chest, placed my right hand above my right breast, and put my left hand on my thigh. But standing there in my underwear, my skinny body didn't look much like that of the buxom blonde impersonator with the double D, or maybe double E, breasts although I had to admit to myself that, even without my hair fixed, I certainly wouldn't be mistaken for anything except a young woman.

	I stopped in front of the full-length mirror and struck a pose

Lizbeth returned while I was still staring at myself and smirked at my pose. After helping me put on a long black half-slip that extended to my lower calves, she held the gown for me to step into. I didn't complain anymore because I had my hands full just getting enough oxygen to stand and participate in the dressing process.

As she wiggled the dress up my torso, I held my legs tightly together. When it had risen high enough, she pulled the top around me. I felt the zipper rise up to the top of the dress as Lizbeth tugged and pulled on the material to straighten it and position it properly.

"It's much, much too loose in the caboose, but it's perfect everywhere else," she said.

"I don't have a grown woman's tush, remember?" I managed to wheeze out.

Lizbeth pulled the zipper back down and let the dress fall to the floor, and then went to my dresser and pulled out another padded control brief.

"I'm already wearing a padded brief," I said.

"I know, but you need more padding. This should help. Left your left leg."

I raised my legs one at a time and she pulled the heavily padded brief up, lifting the slip to position it. Then she dropped the slip and started raising the dress again. As she pulled the zipper up, she said, "Ah, much better. The dress fits perfectly now. You have a real hourglass figure at 36-21-37. You're going to look like Marilyn Monroe with that blond hair."

"I can't believe that any real woman actually had these measurements," I said.

"Back in the fifties, nineteen and twenty-inch waists were common among young women in their early twenties. These days it's rare to find one that has less than twenty-three-inch waist, and most are twenty-five inches or more. Too many Big Macs with Super-size Fries while in high school, I guess." Staring at the bottom of the gown she said, "Perfect. The dress hem is at least an inch off the floor. The four-inch heels wouldn't have been enough."

Steering me over to the mirror, Lizbeth positioned me so I could see my reflection. Everything had combined to give me an hourglass figure of salacious proportions. The corset and bustier had seemed to add immensely to the C cup size, and if it didn't look like I was busting out of the dress before, it sure did now. I tugged at the dress to see if it would fall at an inopportune moment, exposing my chest, but it didn't give at all. I guess there was no way that the tight gown could slip down over my breasts. I felt like one of Bill Ward's exaggerated cartoon women. Even without my face and hair ready, I looked incredibly sexy. 'God, what was I thinking?'

"Fix your hair and put on your face. I'm going to get ready."

"I can't do this, Lizbeth," I said desperately. "I can't. I'm still a boy underneath, regardless of how I look."

"Not tonight, you're not. You're a beautiful, sexy woman. Say that."

I looked at her for a second. It was obvious that she wasn't going to relent and let me stay home. "I'm a beautiful, sexy woman," I said while she silently mouthed the words with me.

"Again. With a smile."

"I'm a beautiful, sexy woman," I said smiling.

"That's better. Hey, better yet, say, 'I'm Marilyn Monroe, a famous sexy starlet."

"She's dead," I said glumly. "I wish that I was."

Lizbeth giggled. "I know she's dead, but she was alive in the fifties. Say it."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm Marilyn Monroe, a famous sexy starlet."

"Again, with a smile, and maybe a giggle."

I repeated it again, smiling, and then giggled afterward.

"Excellent. Keep telling yourself that, and keep smiling and giggling. I'm going to get dressed."

Lizbeth left, with me repeating the sentence over and over. I couldn't believe that my pride, stupidity, and cousins had brought me this far. I was dressed in a gown that could only be described as a stage costume, because no real woman would ever wear something this tight and uncomfortable on a date, as I tried to balance on stilts, while preparing for a date with another male. As I walked around the room chanting Lizbeth's mantra, I spotted the medicine bottle. The first pill hadn't had any effect on me so I opened the bottle and took another full tablet out and popped it into my mouth, washing it down with the rest of the water in the small Dixie cup. I couldn't sit comfortably, and I was afraid that I was going to pop the seams on the gown, but I managed to sit on the edge of the stool at the makeup table and put on my face. As I reapplied a bright red lipstick like Marilyn always used, I repeated the mantra over and over in my head that I was Marilyn Monroe, a famous sexy starlet, while images of Marilyn flashed through my mind.

When I finished my makeup I combed out my hair. It would hang straight down for the dance, without a single curl or wave, because there hadn't been time to fix it properly, but at least it was finally dry. As everything came together it almost seemed as if I was Marilyn Monroe; and I even began to see her face superimposed over mine in the mirror. I blinked several times while trying to shake myself mentally, and it went away, but then reappeared again. I practiced my smile and the coy, slightly sideways glance that I had seen her use to perfection in her movies, all the time repeating the mantra in my head. After putting my perfume on, I was ready, but I continued to sit there, numbly repeating the mantra and practicing my smile.

Lizbeth's appearance in the room brought me partly back to reality, but the mantra continued to play in my head. I stood up and turned to face her, saying, "Lizbeth, you look wonderful." She was wearing a tight pink pullover sweater covering a fifties style 'torpedo' bra, and a gray 'poodle' skirt.

"So do you, Ashley. You did a wonderful job with your makeup and hair. You really do look like Marilyn Monroe a little, although your hair would have to be curly and short to really look like her. Are you ready? The boys are all here."

"All?"

"Yes. Suzanne and Nicole's dates are here also."

"Oh, okay. How do I look? Everything in place?"

"You're beautiful. Here, I brought you a couple of bracelets to wear," she said as she put a wide gold bracelet on each of my wrists.

Taking a step back, she said, "Perfect. I'm so jealous. You look so sexy that every guy there is going to be staring at you all night. The rest of us will look like the runner-ups."

"Stop it; you'll make me blush," I said in my best imitation of Marilyn Monroe's sultry, little girl voice.

Lizbeth smiled. "Come on, Marilyn. Your public awaits you."

I picked up the small black purse that Lizbeth had found at the thrift store a few days ago. It already contained my ID, lipstick, and a few other essentials.

As we walked out to the living room, all four men stood up. Actually, Lizbeth walked while I kind of bobbed along with mincing steps. George whistled and said, "Holy Moly, you're the most." The other guys uttered similar fifties comments, and I smiled as I was introduced to Suzanne's date, Kent, and Nicole's date, Steve. Steve, Kent, and Larry were all dressed like escapees from the movie 'Grease' while George looked like a member of one of the late fifties music bands. Nicole and Suzanne, like Lizbeth, were wearing fifties-style bras, extremely tight sweaters, and poodle skirts. I was the last one to be ready and everyone prepared to leave as soon as I joined them.

George extended his elbow towards me and I put my hand through it. "You look wonderful, George. It's as if you stepped right out of the fifties."

"So do you, Ashley. You look like a movie star."

"Of course I do. I'm really Marilyn Monroe in disguise."

George laughed as we started towards the door. He had to walk very slowly because I couldn't keep up a normal pace. The dress limited me to about four  inches with each step. I walked as fast as I could, bobbing along just to keep up with George's slow pace, and I was surprised when he led me to his car. I thought we'd be traveling with someone else, but I didn't protest because the others would be very near. George held the door for me and extended his arm to help me into the seat of the year old Toyota. I had trouble bending, and the corset was cutting into my abdomen, but he was very patient. Once I was finally in, he lifted some of the loose fabric from around my calves that was hanging outside the car, and pushed it into the car before closing the door. Unable to move easily and unable to see over my chest, I was still trying to figure out how the seat belt closed when he slipped into the driver's seat. He leaned over to buckle me up.

"God, you smell good," he said, as he lingered after buckling the seat belt with his left hand on my abdomen.

When his hand moved down to rest on my right thigh, I said, "Thank you, but we'd better go or we'll get separated from the others."

The other three cars had already pulled out of the driveway and were halfway down the block. George looked at me, sighed, and straightened up in his seat as he reached for the ignition. In a couple of minutes we had caught up with the others.

At the community center, the others waited for us at the entrance so that we could all walk in together. It had taken quite a bit of effort for me to get out of the car, and George practically had to lift me out.

The guy at the door to the hall looked us over carefully and wrote down our names. I learned that there was some kind of contest for best costumes, and when he asked my name, I smiled coyly and said, "Marilyn Monroe". He grinned widely and held up a tag that I should pin onto my dress. It had a number on it that corresponded to the number on the line where he wrote the name.

I said, "I don't think that I can pin that on with these gloves. Could you do it for me?" I moved his hand up to my left breast and pushed myself against his hand. He smiled even wider.

Lizbeth yanked me back. "I'll put it on her, and her name is really Ashley James."

The guy's smile drooped a little and he added my real name to the line where he had written Marilyn. Lizbeth pulled me away and whispered fiercely, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I said innocently. "I can't open that pin with these gloves on."

"You were flirting with a stranger, shamelessly. Now stop it and act like a lady."

"Okay, Lizbeth. I'm sorry," I said contritely.

George held out his arm for me. "You're wonderful, Ashley. That poor guy didn't know what to make of you. I thought that I was going to bust a gut when you took his hand."

I giggled as Lizbeth exhaled quickly and loudly in a display of irritation.

Walking into the hall, we located an empty table with eight seats. The band was playing a slow Elvis Presley love song called "Love Me Tender', and George didn't waste a second, immediately asking me to dance before we'd even had a chance to sit down.

I had danced a few slow dances in the past, and although I wasn't very good, I had a valid excuse this time. "I don't know if I can in this dress, George. I can barely walk."

"Let's give it a try. I'll take it easy on you."

I heard Lizbeth call my name, and I looked in her direction just as the brilliant flash from her camera entered my eyes.

George gently pulled me out to the dance floor. As I raised my arms to the positions used for dancing, he lifted them up to his shoulders and then pulled me close, wrapping his arms tightly around my body. I finished wrapping my arms around his neck, in the manner that I observed being practiced by the girls around me, and tried to keep up with George's lead. At first he was dragging me around because I couldn't move my legs enough. It took a few minutes for us to get synchronized, but by the end of the song we had found a method of dancing that worked for us.

The exertion of dancing created more of a need for air than the corset allowed and things started to get increasingly fuzzy after that. I do remember that we returned to the seats and I slowly got my breathing under control. I heard Lizbeth call my name, and I looked in her direction just as the brilliant flash from her camera entered my eyes. I couldn't see anything except large splashes of light for several more seconds.

I remember dancing a lot after that, even though George's face seemed to keep changing. He also got shorter, thinner, and heavier at times.

 

(continued)

  

  

  

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