I Dated My Brother's Teacher

by Alana

 

"No!"

"Please, Dana! You looked just like her!"

"I did not, either! It's a dumb idea, and you're gonna get us both in trouble."

Last year, for Halloween I dressed up as my mother. I wore one of her dresses, and she put make-up on me, and everybody said I looked like her. But now, here was my brother George holding a notice from the school saying his teacher wanted to talk with my mother, and you can guess what kind of a stupid idea he had in mind.

"If she finds out I'm flunking Sixth, I'm dead!"

"She's gonna find out eventually. How does me wearing pantyhose and a dress keep you from flunking?"

"I swear I'll work harder if you'll just do this one thing for me!"

"He is never in a million years going to believe I'm Mom."

"Yes, he will! He's never met Mom!"

"He'll never believe I'm a woman."

"Yes, he will! Dana, if you do this, I'll give you all my paper route money."

"All of it? But that's gotta be at least---"

"Two-hundred and twelve dollars and thirty-six cents."

"You'll give me two-hundred dollars just for wearing a dress?"

"Yes!"

I sighed.

"All right, fine! I've got this stupid girl's name, I guess I might as well wear a dress. But you have to promise to give me the money, even if he finds out and we get in trouble."

"I promise! I swear!"

"But how are we going to get there?" I'm 16 years old, old enough to drive, but my Mom takes the car every night. She's a swing-shift nurse, and she leaves us alone every evening except the weekend.

"We'll have to walk."

"Somebody will see me!"

"It'll be dark by eight. If anyone sees you, they'll just think you're Mom. You'll be wearing her dress."

"This is crazy. It's never going to work."

"It'll work. You look really pretty in a dress."

"Shut up! I do not!"

I called Mr. Johnson and set up an appointment for the following night, trying my best to sound like my Mom. Then I undressed and got in the shower, and shaved off what little body hair I had.

The next night, the time came to put this stupid plan in motion. Mom left us dinner for us to reheat, said good-bye to us, and was gone until after mid-night. It was time for me to put on one of my mother's dresses.

I got all dressed up and put on one of my Mom's wigs and some make-up, remembering as best I could how my Mom had made up my face for Halloween. I came out of Mom's bedroom wearing one of her pretty floral dresses with lace about the bodice, and as soon as George saw me, he started laughing like crazy.

"Shut up! That does it. I'm getting out of this stupid dress!"

"No, no, I'm sorry! You look great! Really!"

We walked to school, and no one saw us, or if they did they didn't think anything of it. We live at the end of the block, and it's fairly secluded. The neighbors can't see very well what's going on at our house unless they make a real effort.

My feet were killing me by the time we got to school, and it was only three blocks. We went to the classroom, and there was Mr. Johnson. I was so glad I'd never had him for Sixth grade. I introduced myself as Mrs. Peterson, and he believed me! He asked me if Mr. Peterson could come, and I said I was a widow.

I sat down, remembering all the things I'd learned last Halloween about sitting down properly, tucking my skirt beneath me and crossing my legs the way a woman crosses her legs.

 "I'm afraid your son George is flunking. If he doesn't work harder, he's going to have to repeat the Sixth grade."

"Yes, that what I thought this was about. Would you know of a tutor who could help?"

He gave me some names, and I promised that George would work harder. We talked about some of the areas where George needed improvement, and I pretended to pay attention. I stood up to go, and he shook my hand.

"George," he said, "would you give your mother and me some privacy?"

George said yes, and he waited outside.

"Mrs. Peterson," he said, "May I call you Caitlin?"

"Certainly. Could you let go of my hand?"

"Oh, sure. Caitlin, that's a lovely dress you're wearing."

"Thank you."

"Nowadays you seldom see women willing to wear pretty, feminine dresses."

"Well, most of my Mom's dresses are like this. I mean, of course, that my Mom, who would be George's Grandma, wore dresses like this and so do I, because like mother like daughter. That's what I mean. I just meant that we both like to wear pretty dresses, because we're both women and all. Sorry, I'm babbling. I'm a little nervous."

"That's alright. Caitlin, I wonder if you have a boyfriend?"

"What? No! Why would you ask me that?"

"Well, I think it's obvious that you're attracted to me."

It was hard to come up with a response to that. Open-mouthed in shock and surprise, I just shook my head no.

"Can you think of any reason why we shouldn't go out together? On a date?"

"What! No, I---"

"Then it's a date."

"No, it isn't. I can't go out with you."

"Why not?"

"I just can't, is all."

"Caitlin, if you go out with me, I can pretty well promise you that George will not flunk the Sixth grade."

"What! That's---unethical! That's just wrong! You can't promise a thing like that."

"That's exactly what I'm promising."

"Mr. Johnson, I'm going to leave right now, and I'm going to forget this entire conversation, and I advise you to do the same!"

I flipped back my hair, or anyway the hair of my wig, spun away from him, and left.

I couldn't help but enjoy his crestfallen reaction, his deflated ego. He seemed like a man who wasn't used to being turned down by someone who was wearing a pretty dress.

Me and my pretty dress went out to the hallway where George was waiting.

"What are you doing?!" he said.

"We're going."

"We are not! You're going to go in there and tell him you're going out with him!"

"You heard that?"

"Yes, I heard! This could get me through the Sixth grade!"

"I may be wearing a dress and pantyhose, but I'm not going to date some man!"

"Yes, you are! If you don't, you don't get the money! And I'm going to run home and lock all the doors and lock you out, and you can explain to Mom what you're doing in her dress!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Everything OK?" asked Mr. Johnson from behind us, scaring the hell out of me.

"Everything's fine," I said.

"I had a feeling your son might be eavesdropping. So, have you given any thought to what I said?"

I sighed. "Fine. Pick me up tomorrow night at seven."

"I thought you might change your mind."

I was so mad at George that I walked home as fast as I could in high heels, and didn't say a word to him. I didn't run home, though I wanted to, but when we got in the door I was in such a hurry to get out of that stupid dress that I ran to the stairs. I wasn't used to wearing high heels. I fell right on the floor, and my brother would not stop laughing.

"Hey Mommy, your slip is showing," he said.

"Shut up! Don't laugh at me! I'm doing this for you."

"And two-hundred dollars."

I got up. "Stupid dress! Stupid pantyhose! Stupid high heels!" I said.

I went upstairs and into my Mom's bedroom. I flipped on the light and looked at myself in the mirror, wearing my mother's dress. I started wriggling out of the dress.

What kind of a mess was I getting myself into, here? And how long would it go on? Would Mr. Johnson be satisfied with one date? He doesn't take no for an answer. Wearing dresses was bad enough, but dating a man? How could I get out of this? If I just told him I'm a boy, he'd tell my mother and I'd be in big trouble. I could threaten to tell about his unethical promises, but he could deny them. What could I do? I was trapped. Trapped in a dress.

So the next night, there I was in front of Mom's closet again, picking out a dress for my "date" with Mr. Johnson. George wanted me to wear something tight and sexy. He pointed out a sexy gold dress.

"Wear this."

"Mom would never wear a dress like that on a first date."

"Come on. Just try it on. You have to look sexy for your boyfriend."

"Shut up."

"You have to keep him happy or he'll never pass me. Just try it on."

I tried it on. I guessed it would do as well as any other.

When Mr. Johnson arrived, almost the first thing he said was, "Is that the dress you're wearing?"

"Well, being as I've got it on I guess that would be a clue that I intend to wear it tonight. Something wrong?"

"It's a little too fancy for the place we're going. And anyway, it's not how I pictured you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, one of the things that attracted me to you was your femininity."

I could see George out of the corner of my eye, trying not to laugh.

"You never see women wearing colorful, twirly, feminine dresses like the one I saw you in last night. You were born to wear pretty feminine dresses."

"Yeah, that's right Mom. You were BORN to wear pretty feminine dresses."

"Shut up. I mean, be quiet, Georgie." He hates being called Georgie, but that's what Mom calls him.

"Tell me the truth, Caitlin. Are most of your dresses like the one you're wearing now?"

"No."

"I just want you to be yourself, Caitlin."

I really doubted that was true.

"You do realize that you're asking me to take off a tight sexy dress and change into a looser, more comfortable dress with a longer skirt?"

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"OK, if that's what you want."

I went upstairs and into Mom's bedroom to change. George wanted to follow me, but I told him I could handle it by myself, thank you.

I had to admit, Mr. Johnson was right. Most of Mom's dresses were pretty, feminine, twirly, floral dresses, and she did look a lot better in them. I changed into a light-colored floral dress. It took me awhile, because I had to change my pantyhose, too. I hadn't been a woman for very long, but I knew that women don't wear dark pantyhose with a light-colored dress.

I came out in Mom's floral dress.

"What do you think? Is it twirly enough for you?" Just to tease, I did a little twirl for him.

"Beautiful. I really like you in a floral dress."

"Thank you," I said.

As we were leaving, he said, "Excuse me, but you're not leaving George here all by himself, are you?"

"Oh, no," I said. "Dana is here in the house somewhere."

"Ah. Well, I'm sure your daughter will have no trouble."

George laughed a little.

"No, no, Dana is my son. He's probably in his bedroom. He keeps to himself."

"Yeah," said George, "Dana has some weird habits. You know something, Mom, I bet he's probably started wearing your dresses again."

I was embarrassed. I looked from George to Mr. Johnson, and back to George again.

"I'm sure he isn't," was all I could say.

"I bet he is. He's probably started wearing your nylons, too. And your bra. I bet he's even been wearing your slip."

Self-consciously, I looked down at the slip I was wearing, clearly visible through my sheer dress. I think I was blushing.

Mr. Johnson said, "Would you like me to have a talk with him, Caitlin? He might need a man to talk to about this."

"Yeah, Mom, because you're a woman. You like wearing dresses; you don't know anything about what it's like to be a normal boy."

"I do so! I mean, I'll deal with this when I get back! Let's go, Mr. Johnson."

"Mark."

"Let's go, Mark."

Before we left, I saw George take out a digital camera.

"Smile!" he said. And before I could object he'd taken a picture of the two of us.

"Give me that!" I said.

"Caitlin, we really should be going, now."

Mark pulled me out of the room, but I intended to get that photo from him, later.

At dinner I happened to mention that I was reading a Dickens novel called Bleak House, and he raved about it. We'd both read Great Expectation and The Old Curiosity Shop, and we talked about them for awhile. We were also old movie fans, and we started talking about Jimmy Stewart and Spencer Tracy movies. The subject of Cary Grant came up, and I said, "He's dreamy," just to sound like a woman.

I'm interested in a lot of things that guys my age don't care about, and it was nice to have someone to discuss things with. "I can't believe how much we have in common!" I said, and I was sincere.

After dinner we took a little walk in the park. I kept looking for someplace to sit down, because my feet were killing me in those high heels. All the benches were occupied, and I wasn't about to sit on the ground. That'd be all I needed, to get Mom's dress dirty, and Mom wondering where the dirt came from.

There was a little pavilion that had some carpeting on the floor. I sat on the ground and waited for him to join me.

"You look so incredible in that pretty dress," he said. "We should be on a picnic together. That dress would be perfect for a picnic."

"Thank you. You're so sweet," I said, because it seemed the kind of thing a woman would say. He sat down next to me. We enjoyed the view together.

"Mark," I said, "I want you to know that I've never had sex with anyone but my husband, and our first time was on our honeymoon night. I don't have sex outside the bounds of matrimony."

He was a bit taken aback by this, but I'd been thinking that I should say this to him. I thought I'd better make it clear that I wouldn't be having sex with him.

"And by the way," I said, "Sex is anything that requires EITHER ONE of us to take off our clothes. Understand?"

He was disappointed, but he agreed.

When the date ended, he drove me back and walked me to the door. He wanted to know when we could go out again.

"I'm working all weekend," I said, because my Mom would be home all weekend.

"How about Monday evening?"

"OK. Pick me up at seven?"

"It's a date."

I went inside, and wondered why in the world I'd agreed to go out with him, again. I didn't even put up a fuss. What was I doing?

George came into the living room and asked, "How did your date go, Mommy?"

"We're going out again on Monday."

"You're going out with him again!?"

"You want to pass Sixth grade, don't you?"

I went upstairs to my Mom's bedroom to take off her pretty dress and hang it up.

OK, I admit it. I enjoyed his company. I didn't enjoy wearing dresses, but I enjoyed his company. And it's nice to be appreciated, and it's nice when another person finds you attractive. I wasn't likely to get that from any of the girls in my high school. I was never popular with girls, and it was good to be well-liked by someone, even if one of the reasons he liked me was that I had nice legs and looked pretty in a dress.

It was just two people going out to dinner together. And if he was paying for dinner, the least I could do was wear a cute dress and look pretty for him. What's the harm?

On Monday George was staying over at a friend's house, so I could get ready for my date without him bothering me. I was going to wear another twirly dress, but I thought, for a change, that he might like to see me in something short and sexy. I picked out my Mom's shortest dress. It was still floral, so I thought Mark would love me in it.

When Mark showed up, I said, "Like my dress?"

"Your slip is showing."

"Oh, sorry," I said, fixing my skirt. "It does that sometimes, you know, on account of it being, you know, short. Which is kind of why I thought you might like it. My dress, I mean."

"I see."

"You never answered my question. Do you like my dress? You've never been shy with your opinions before."

"You look very nice. Let's go."

Was he pissed off about something?

We ate at a nice restaurant which was not too far away from where we'd had our first date. All throughout the meal it seemed that something was bothering him. I thought we could go for a walk in the park again, and talk about it.

After dinner I headed for the park, and he headed the other way, back to his car.

"Aren't we going for a walk, again?" I asked.

"Oh, sure. Of course," he said.

We went by the pavilion, and I kneeled on the ground, even though it wasn't very comfortable, and invited him to join me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He seemed reluctant.

"What's wrong, Mark?"

"Caitlin, I know I should love your sexy dress, I know that any other man would, but I don't. I miss the twirl."

"The twirl?"

"Caitlin, from the moment I saw you I was captivated by your femininity. Any woman can wear a slutty dress, forgive me for saying so, but you were born to wear beautiful, frilly, twirly dresses."

I stood up and said, "So my legs are ugly? Is that what you're saying? You want my legs covered up?"

"I was afraid you'd take it like this."

"No. You're right, Mark. I don't belong in a dress like this. I was going to wear a dress with a nice twirly skirt. I only wore this for you. I thought you would like it. Between you and me, it's not easy to breathe in this dress."

"Caitlin, I just want you to be yourself."

"I'll tell you what. From now on, I'll make sure to do a twirl for you before we go out to dinner. If it doesn't twirl, I'll wear something else. Unless, of course, you give me special permission to wear something tight and sexy. Deal?"

We had a little laugh over the misunderstanding.

When the date was over, we made another date for Wednesday, since Mark had afterschool events on Tuesday and Thursday. George wasn't home yet. I stood in front of the mirror in Mom's bedroom, looking at myself in that tight floral dress, wondering all over again what in the hell I was doing. This was starting to get unhealthy. Maybe I should stop dating him. This could only lead to trouble.

The next day, George took home a math test. He showed me the grade. He got a C-. Instead of answering any of the questions, he wrote down "You're dating my mother" in every blank.

Halfway through the test he got tired of writing it out, so he just entered YDMM.

"Get rid of that," I said. "Don't let Mom see it."

On Wednesday I was standing in front of Mom's closet in a slip, trying to pick out a dress. George came in the room.

"Get out of here!" I said, trying to cover myself up.

"Oh, don't get your pantyhose in a knot. I've seen you in your slip, before. What pretty dress are you wearing tonight, for your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"Wear that one," he said, pointing at another short sexy dress.

"He doesn't like me in those dresses. He said he wants to see me in something twirly. Like this."

I picked out a red dress and held it close to me.

"That's not sexy," he said. "Wear something sexy. You want to keep him happy."

"To him, this is sexy," I said. "You'll see."

I slipped into the pretty red dress just in time, as Mark rang the front doorbell.

"Let him in," I said.

"Why don't you?"

"I have to make my entrance."

George rolled his eyes and went downstairs to let in my date.

When Mark was seated, I came flowing into the room in that pretty red dress.

"Hi, there," I said.

"Oh my gosh!" said Mark. "You look absolutely incredible! I see you took our little talk to heart."

"You realize, don't you, that you're about the only man in the world who would be this thrilled to see me in a conservative dress like this."

"Yes, I know. You're going to look so wonderful out there on the dance floor."

"There's a dance floor?"

"The place we're going to has a dance floor, and you couldn't possibly have worn a more beautiful dress to dance in. All eyes will be upon you."

I gave George an I-told-you-so look, but of course, all George cared about was that his teacher was kept happy.

As we were leaving, I said to Mark, "Oh by the way, I believe I owe you a twirl."

I twirled for him, and he was entranced. That full skirt could twirl its way into another time zone.

"You are so beautiful and elegant," he said.

"Thanks, honey," I said. The endearment was out of my mouth before I even realized what I was saying. I heard George laughing a little, but I was too embarrassed to even look in his direction. We got out of there as quickly as possible.

We had dinner, and afterwards he took my hand and led me out onto the dance floor. He took me in his arms, and we began to slow-dance. It happens that I'm a good dancer, and even though I'd never danced backwards with a man before, I was able to keep up with him pretty well. I was a little shocked when he grabbed my rump and pulled me closer to him, but I guess it could've been worse.

As he held me in his arms, he said, "You dance divinely. I swear you're the perfect woman."

"Not quite."

"I love you in that dress."

"Thank you. I've never known a man who was so particular about which dress I wore. Sometimes I wonder if you're dating me or my dresses."

"I'm dating you. And your exquisite taste in fashions is a big part of who you are. By the way, did you ever resolve that matter with your son? That problem with Dana wearing your dresses?"

"Oh, that was just Georgie being a brat. Dana doesn't wear dresses. And even if he did, it wouldn't matter, would it?"

"Well, you really shouldn't let your son wear dresses, Caitlin."

"Why not? You don't seem to mind it when I wear a cute dress."

"You're a woman."

"So? Just because I'm the woman, why does that mean that I have to wear the dress and walk around in high heels all night? Our next date, maybe you should wear a dress and I can wear comfortable clothes."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're the one who looks beautiful in a dress."

"Oh, so if Dana looked pretty in a dress, that would make it OK, then?"

"I very much doubt that Dana has pretty legs like yours."

"Oh, I think you'd find there's not that much difference between us."

And suddenly the band struck up a golden oldie, which was "Rock Around The Clock." Every couple on the dance floor separated, including us, and we began to dance wildly. I sang along with the chorus.

The only time I can honestly say I enjoyed wearing a dress was when I was out there on the dance floor, with my full skirt swishing around, tickling my legs.

I'll bet that even women who hate wearing dresses can't deny how wonderful it is to be dancing in one.

When it was over, he hugged me and said, "Did I mention that you're an incredible dancer?"

"It's the dress," I said. "I barely have to dance at all. My dress does most of the dancing for me."

When we got outside it was pouring down rain.

"I'm going to get my dress all wet," I moaned.

"Don't be ridiculous. Wait right here," he said, and dashed out into the rain to get the car.

Another woman, or anyway another person in a dress, was standing next to me, waiting for husband to drive up.

"It's nice being a woman, isn't it?" she said to me.

"Tonight, it is. Staying dry, and all."

"I love your dress."

"Thanks. I like yours," I said, though she was wearing some horrible brown frock that I would never be seen dead in.

Mark drove up and hopped out of the car with an umbrella. He escorted me to the car and held the door for me, and I got in the car without getting so much as a drop of water on my nylons.

By the time we got home it had stopped raining. Mark got out and walked me to the back door.

"Good-night," I said, and headed inside.

"Wait a minute, Caitlin. Don't go so soon."

"Was there something else?"

I turned and came back to him.

"You look so yummy in that beautiful dress," he said. "You look good enough to eat."

"Thank you," I said. I didn't notice that he was putting his arms around me.

"Just a little taste," he said.

The next thing I knew, he pulled me close and kissed me right on the lips! I was shocked! I pulled myself out of his arms and pushed him away!

"Caitlin, this is our third date!" he said.

I rushed into the house and ran to the bathroom sink, but I tripped and fell on the ground, my skirt flipping up. I felt like I could vomit. I stayed on the ground as the feelings of nausea swept over me.

George wasn't anywhere nearby. Thank heaven he hadn't seen that! I could just imagine what he would say.

Damn it! My first kiss ever, and it had to be with a man! How horrible! As long as it was just some innocent flirting and kidding around in a dress I could pretend that I wasn't doing anything gay, but how could I tell myself that now?

I didn't throw up, but I didn't feel very well. I went to George's bedroom.

"Hi there, Mommy! You look so pretty in your cute little red dress!"

"George, I've had it. I can't do this any more."

"Is that so?"

"I mean it. No more wearing dresses, no more nylons and lipstick and walking around in high heels. I'm not dressing like a woman any more, and I'm not dating your teacher."

"Do you remember that picture I took of you, Mommy, on your first date? That picture is out on the net, on a family photo website. It doesn't have your name, so no one can get there by searching, but all I have to do is tell someone at school where it is, and the next thing you know, there's emails and downloads and printouts, and everyone in your school knows all about it. And if you try to tell them that I paid you to do it, well, I don't remember that."

"George, why would you do this to me? What did I ever do to you?"

"Nothing. But you're going to keep wearing a pretty dress and dating my teacher, long enough for me to get through the Sixth grade. Hey, look at the bright side. You've been wearing pants all your life, and where has it gotten you? You've never even had a date. Soon as you slip on a cute dress you're the most popular girl in town. You should go to school in a dress. I bet the captain of the football team would go out with you."

"George, this can't work. Someone's going to find out about it."

"Maybe. But is it going to be just Mom who finds out, or would you rather the whole school found out? You decide."

I went to Mom's bedroom and slipped out of the dress I was wearing. I was so angry I felt like ripping it off, but that wouldn't have solved anything.

I had a nightmare. I was back in the red dress, lying on the floor, my slip showing again, my mother standing over me, saying, "What the hell are you doing, wearing my dresses, going around kissing men?"

"I'm sorry, Mom! I'm sorry!"

And there was my father, dead four years but there he was!

"Take off that dress, you little faggot! Take it off! No son of mine goes around dressing like a woman and kissing men!"

"I'm sorry!"

I woke up bathed in sweat.

We had another date for Friday night. I decided that I just wasn't going to kiss Mr. Johnson, was all. I'd just pretend that nothing happened, and if he tried to kiss me again, I'd stop him and explain that it was something I didn't feel comfortable with. I picked out a pretty peach-colored dress to wear.

I was determined to pretend that everything was exactly the same as our previous dates, so when Mark came to pick me up, I came out and said, "Like my dress?"

"You look lovely," he said, without much enthusiasm.

"And of course, we can't get the date underway without taking care of this," I said, and twirled for him.

"George, could you leave us alone for a minute?" said Mark. George went into the next room, but I could see that he was still peeking at us.

Mark said, "Listen, Caitlin, why don't we just forget about going out any more? I know you don't want to go out with me."

"Why would you think that?"

"Look, Caitlin, I don't know if you thought we were going to be just friends or something, but I can't be just friends with you. I saw how you reacted when I tried to kiss you."

"You just took me by surprise is all."

"Caitlin, that was not the reaction of a woman taken by surprise. Look, why I don't I just leave?"

"Is George going to flunk the Sixth grade?"

"He'll get the grade he deserves."

"In other words, yes."

"In other words, probably. Good-bye, Caitlin."

"Mark, wait." I came closer. I knew what I had to do, though it made me sick to think about it. And the worst part was that George would see me doing it.

"Caitlin, let's not---"

"Come here, you," I said. I leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

I could feel the bile rising in my throat, but I choked it down and kept kissing him. He would have to be the one to stop, not me.

Finally, he pulled away from me. He smiled at me, breathing hard.

I smiled and tried to look like I'd enjoyed it

"Now, can we go to dinner?"

"Yes," he said.

When the date was over, he walked me to the door, as usual. He put his arms around me.

"I could just hold you forever," he said.

"Oh, honey, you're so sweet!" I said, trying to sound like I meant it. He pulled me toward him, and once again it was time for me to submit to his horrible kisses. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend that I was kissing a girl. I tried to pretend that the lipstick I felt on my lips was hers and not mine, that the bra pressing against my chest was hers and not mine. But with all the imagination in the world I couldn't pretend that I was wearing pants. I felt his hands all over me, caressing my back, touching my skirt, fondling my rear end. I tried not to shudder.

"See you Monday," he said, when it was over.

And when I got inside, there was George waiting for me. He started making kissing noises at me.

"Did you have fun kissing your boyfriend, Mommy?"

"Shut up! You heard what he said! If I didn't kiss him it would all be over!"

"And then you wouldn't get to wear pretty dresses any more, and kiss your boyfriend."

"Shut up! You think I liked kissing him?"

"You loved it! And you love being a woman! You love wearing dresses! And you love Mr. Johnson! You're going to marry him!"

"I am not!"

"You love him! You love him!"

"Do you want me to stop wearing dresses right now? Because I'll do it! And you can just flunk the Sixth grade and go to work for Burger King, for all I care!"

"You love dressing like a woman, and you love kissing men!"

I grabbed him and threw him on the floor. He jumped to his feet and pushed me right over.

"You can't fight! You're a girl! Girls don't know how to fight! You might get a run in your nylons!"

"Shut up! The only reason you knocked me down is these stupid high heels!"

I tried to get up, and he reached down and grabbed my skirt and flipped it up.

"Knock it off! Get your hands off my dress!"

"Look at the pretty girl with her slip showing!" he chanted. "Look at the pretty girl showing off her new pantyhose!"

"Shut up! The only reason I wear pantyhose is because you made me do it!"

I fixed my skirt so my slip wasn't showing, but every time I tried to get up, that little creep would flip my skirt up again, and push me back down.

"Stop it! If you rip my dress, you're gonna be in a lot of trouble."

As I tried to scramble to my feet, he kept trying to pull up my skirt and I kept pushing him away.

"You fight like a girl!" he said. "You wear dresses like a girl, and you fight like a girl!"

He started trying to pull up my slip.

"Let go of my slip, you little brat!" I yelled.

I finally managed to get to my feet. I pushed him down, and smoothed down my slip and fixed my skirt. Before he could get up, I jumped on top of him and held him down.

"Gonna kiss me?"

"Listen," I said, lying on top of him in my peach-colored dress, holding his hands down, "I'm not wearing any more dresses unless you promise to stop making fun of me."

"Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do, beat me up? Oh, I'm so scared of you in your pretty dress! You try to hit me, I'll pull up your skirt again."

"I mean it! I'm not wearing a dress any more unless you quit making fun of me."

"Listen, girlie, when I say you put on a dress, you put on a dress."

I got up and smoothed out my skirt.

"We'll see about that." I went into Mom's bedroom and slipped out of the dress I was wearing.

That night I had another nightmare. I dreamed I was playing baseball with my friends, playing first base, standing there crouching forward with my hands on my knees, ready to go into action, when I heard, "Hey, look at Dana! Look at Dana!"

I had no idea what they were talking about, so I just glanced at them in a quizzical and mildly annoyed manner.

And then I felt my hands on my knees. I looked down at myself. Oh, no! What was I doing in a dress? I had put on a dress to play baseball! I must've gotten confused!

And all my friends came running in from all over the field. They surrounded me.

"Look at Dana! Dana's wears dresses! Dana's a girl!"

"I am not!" I yelled. "I just got confused is all!"

"Dana wears a dress! Dana's a big fag!"

"I am not! Just 'cause I'm wearing a dress doesn't mean I'm a fag!"

All my friends surrounded me and started pushing me back and forth, laughing at me, pulling at my skirt.

"Stop it!" I yelled. Then I felt the dress rip, with a sickening sound. How could I explain this to Mom? They knocked me down, and I got a run in my nylons.

Then I heard a voice say, "Stop that! Leave my girlfriend alone!"

It was Mr. Johnson. He walked right up to me, pulled me to my feet, grabbed me and started kissing me in front of everyone! They all laughed and kept calling me a fag, and I kept yelling at him to stop kissing me!

"They tore your pretty dress, Caitlin!"

"I'm not Caitlin! I'm not even a woman! I'm a boy! Let me go!"

"Nonsense. No boy has pretty legs like yours."

He kept kissing me, touching me, fondling me in front of everyone! I kept trying to struggle out of his grasp, but he wouldn't let go! And the laughter of my friends kept assaulting my ears.

I woke up, clutching the sheets and breathing heavily. What was I going to do? I couldn't keep dressing like a woman, but I couldn't stop, either, or all my friends would find out. I made up my mind that at least George couldn't go on making fun of me for something that he was making me do himself. He had to give me that much.

Monday came, and when Mom left I just sat around reading a book. George came into my room.

"What are you doing sitting around?" he asked. "Get ready for your date!"

I said nothing.

"Aren't you putting on a dress or not?" said George. "Mr. Johnson is coming over soon."

"Why would I put on a dress? I'm a boy. Boys don't wear dresses."

"Come on, quit kidding around. Go pick out a dress for your date."

I ignored him.

He left, and returned with a pretty floral dress.

"How about his?" he said.

"What about it?"

He tried to drape it over my body.

"Get that away from me," I said.

"Come on. Put on your dress."

"Leave me alone."

"What are you going to do when Mr. Johnson gets here?"

"I'm going to tell him the truth."

"You're gonna get in so much trouble. Your whole school is gonna find out about you and your boyfriend."

"I don't care. I can't take the way you treat me. I'm the one who has to wear dresses and lipstick and nylons, and I'm the one who has to kiss a man. You can at least stop making fun of me."

"What do you want me to do? You want me to say I'm sorry? OK, I'm sorry."

"You have to promise."

"Fine, I promise I won't make fun of you any more."

"Or laugh."

"I promise I won't make fun of you, or laugh at you."

"And one other little thing. I want my money."

"What money?"

"You know what money. The money you promised me."

He ran into his bedroom and came back with a fistful of fives, tens, and singles.

"I spent some of it, but there's at least two-hundred dollars there."

I counted it. Two-hundred and six. That'd do.

"Now will you put on a dress?"

So I got up and went into my bedroom to hide the money, then I went into Mom's bedroom to put on some lingerie and the pretty floral dress. I had some trouble with the zipper. I came out and asked George to zip me up, which he did without comment. I went back inside to check out my appearance. It wasn't until then that I realized how tight it was.

I went to George's bedroom. He was playing a video game.

"George, unzip me, will you?"

"Why? I just zipped you up."

"Mark won't like me in this dress. It's too tight. Unzip me."

"Unzip yourself."

"I can't reach. Come on, you promised."

"I promised I wouldn't make fun of you. I never said I'd be your servant and help you try on twenty different dresses till you found the right one."

"Come on."

"Leave me alone. I'm busy."

I tried some more to unzip myself, but my dress was too tight. Oh well, I guess I was trapped until George released me at the end of the night. Trapped in a dress. What else is new?

It was just about time for Mr. Johnson to pick me up, so I sat in the living room waiting for him. I saw a car coming up our driveway, and out of curiosity I looked out the window.

Oh my gosh!

I ran into the kitchen, where my brother was grabbing something to eat.

"It's Mom!" I yelled.

"Oh, crap!"

"I've got to get out of this dress! You head off Mark. Tell him I'm sick! Tell him I'm contagious! He can't visit me!"

I ran upstairs, just barely ahead of my mother coming in the door. I ran into my bedroom and started to take off the dress I was wearing.

I could hear Mom coming up the stairs, and I realized I might've made a huge mistake! There was no lock on my door! I should've gone in the bathroom! If she came into my room right now, I was dead!

I couldn't reach the damn zipper! George had zipped me up, and now I couldn't get out of this damn dress! I should've got him to unzip me!

Finally I reached the zipper and started to peel off the dress. My heart was beating so fast I could barely breathe! Mom, please don't come in here! Please don't come in here! I never wanted to wear your dresses; it was George! He made me!

She went past my bedroom to her own room, but I was still a long way from being safe. Damn it, why did George pick out such a tight dress?

**Dated26**

For a second I had the idea that this was just another crazy nightmare, but I knew it wasn't.

Finally I got out of the dress, and the slip, and the bra and girdle and pantyhose and shoes and everything else I was wearing, and threw them in my closet. I ripped off the wig and threw it on top of everything else, and I grabbed a bathrobe. I couldn't just go walking around the house naked.

I had to take off all this damn make-up. I closed my closet door and peeked out into the hallway. Mom was still in her bedroom. I raced to the bathroom, just as Mom came out into the hallway!

I hoped she hadn't gotten a good look at me. I locked the bathroom door. My heart was racing. I went to the sink. I took off the false eyelashes and put them back in their little plastic case in the medicine cabinet, then I started to soap up my face and scrubbed like crazy.

"Dana, I need to run a bath. Will you be out soon?"

"I'll be out in a minute, Mom!" I said, trying not to sound as panicked as I was. "What are you doing home?"

"I wasn't feeling well. They sent me home. Hurry up, dear, I have a chill."

Finally I got it all off. I dried my face and went to the door and opened it.

"Why are you in a bathrobe, dear?"

"I feel sick, Mom." She put a hand to my forehead.

"You're fine," she said. I went back to my bedroom, and she followed me. I was glad I remembered to shut my closet door.

"Who is Georgie talking to?" she said, looking out the window at my brother trying to head off Mr. Johnson, talking to him while he was still in his car.

"I don't know," I said. "Someone needs directions or something, I guess."

"I told him to stay away from strangers. Someone could just grab him and pull him into a car and we'd never see him again."

"What a tragedy that would be," I said.

"Now, Dana, don't talk like that," she said, but she was laughing a little bit as she said it.

Mom took a bath, and while she was in the tub I went into her bedroom and hung up her dress and replaced her high heels. I put her wig back where it was, and threw all the lingerie down the dirty clothes chute.

She went right to bed, and I was so nervous it took me the rest of the evening to calm down.

The next day I begged George to put an end to this because I couldn't take it any more. He told me to call my boyfriend to let him know I'm all right, then he went right back to reading his comic book.

I called up Mark, and he invited me to dinner Wednesday night. He said that he had a very fancy nightclub in mind for our date, and I should wear something formal. I was thinking I might wear that gold dress he saw me in, and I was about to mention it when he said, "Why not wear that sexy gold dress?"

So Wednesday night Mark arrived for our date and I came out in the gold dress.

"You look absolutely incredible," he said.

"Thanks, honey," I said. George said nothing.

As we were driving to the nightclub, I asked Mark, "So, why the change in policy on wearing tight, sexy dresses?"

"Oh, I just all of a sudden realized that I was dating a beautiful woman who was willing to wear something sexy for me, and I began to wonder why I was stopping her. And I started to daydream about you in that gold dress."

We had a great time at the nightclub, and afterwards Mark asked if I would like to see his apartment. I said sure.

He had a nice fireplace, so I asked if he could make us a fire. While he worked on getting it set up, I positioned myself close to the fireplace. I decided to lie on my side. When Mark had the fire going, he turned and got a look at me.

"Hi, there," I said.

"Wow," he said. "Have I mentioned how sexy you are in that dress? You are like a beautiful wild animal."

"I AM a wild animal," I said, crawling toward him playfully.

"A wild animal with gorgeous, sexy legs," he said.

"Growl!" I said.

Well, I knew I would have to kiss him, and if you have to do something disgusting and there's no way out of it, you might as well relax and try to have some fun. Which is a trade-off that everyone who wears pantyhose has to make eventually.

When he got the fire going, he came and lied down next to me. Then he started kissing me. We kissed for a long time, and I'm afraid I have to admit that it was getting a lot less yucky. I kept my eyes closed so I could forget I was kissing a man. But there was still his rough beard.

Then I felt his hand go behind my back, and I felt my zipper going down. I stopped kissing him and pulled away from him.

"What are you doing?"

"I just assumed. You're in this sexy dress, and you came back to my apartment---"

"Mark, when I say something I mean exactly what I say. When I get back to my bedroom and I'm all alone, that's when I'll unzip my dress, and that's when I'll slip out of it, and not before. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Now, you're not going to get all mopey on me again and talk about the two of us not seeing each other any more, are you?"

"No."

"Good. Now, come here, you."

As we were kissing I suddenly realized that there was somewhere I was supposed to be. I was actually supposed to be out eating pizza with a friend of mine, and not in a dress, either. It was a special occasion, but I'd totally forgotten about it. It was like Dana had ceased to exist, and I couldn't imagine having fun doing anything that didn't include wearing a cute dress. I stopped kissing Mark.

"Listen, it's getting late. You'd better take me home."

He got up, and helped me up. He was disappointed, but he didn't argue.

"And I think you'd better zip me up, Mark. I don't want my sons to think we've been doing things that we haven't been doing."

He zipped my zipper the little bit up to the top of my dress.

"How is it that you can reject me and still make me feel wonderful?" asked Mark.

"Good question. Listen, could we hurry? I'm a mother, you know, and I worry a lot."

I was actually worried about whether or not my friend had decided to hang around and wait for me. If he did, I wasn't sure how I'd be able to sneak into the house without him seeing me.

I ran out to Mark's car. Well, actually in that tight dress it was kind of like slow-motion running, but I went as fast as I could.

We drove back to my house. I thought the house looked a little too dark, but I didn't say anything. I thought I saw George at the window for half a second, but I couldn't be sure. Anyway, my friend's car was nowhere in sight, so I was free and clear.

He walked me to the back door.

"Can I come in?"

"I don't think so. I have to go in my bedroom and slip out of my sexy dress. All by myself. All alone."

"I couldn't persuade you to let me help with that, could I?"

"Oh, you are just the persistent little boy, aren't you?"

"Can you blame me?"

We kissed, and I went into the dark house by myself. I flipped on the light switch.

"SURPRISE!!"

I stood gaping at about a dozen boys and girls my age. They stood gaping at me, for about five seconds. And then my ears were assaulted by gales of laughter.

I felt like I couldn't breathe. I always knew this scheme would fall apart eventually, but not so completely. And that my life would fall apart with it.

No one had told George. I looked for him and couldn't find him. But there was my mother.

"What in the hell is going on here? What are you doing wearing my best dress?" But it seemed like I could barely hear her over the sound of laughter. And cameras going off.

Behind me, my boyfriend Mark was entering the room, about to find out the truth about me.

Happy birthday to me.

  

  

 

 

  

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