BE FOREWARNED. The following story contains sexually explicit material not suited for those who have not yet achieved the age of maturity. If you should fall into this category, do not read further. Consult the laws of your community to clarify if you are eligible to read adult sexual material. The theme is transsexual. If this type of reading matter offends you, read no further. Go do something else. Standard disclaimer applies. Any association with real people, places, events, or entities is purely coincidental.

 

A Meaningful Relationship

by Virginia Kane
© 2002. All rights reserved.

 

Chapter One.

 

Daniel E. Willis was hard at work as usual. At age thirty-one it was his habit. He studied hard when he attended college, too. A timely brochure hit his desk with the pile of the daily junk mail that captured his interest. "How to meet more of the right people to develop meaningful relationships!" He glanced through it quickly; then put it aside to examine more closely at home, when some of his fellow employees weren’t likely to spy over his shoulder at his rapt attention.

Some essential background: Dan was intelligent. He applied himself diligently in college; enough to graduate fifth in a class of over four hundred students enrolled in the program of liberal arts and sciences. He was accepted into the graduate school the following fall. His mom encouraged him, as she felt he had his whole life ahead of him to work, so he should continue to get as much credentials as he could. His dad wasn’t keen on the idea, saying the cost of grad school was far too high, and he knew Dan wouldn’t need more education to get by in life.

Dan knew his parents’ marriage was shaky for years, yet he still was shocked to learn dad left mom during the summer after he received his bachelor’s degree. His dad often muttered that he stayed married because of what he termed was a sense of proper responsibility. (Unbeknownst to Dan at the time, something his grandfather put into his estate plan before he died was the true reason for his dad’s staying; not because he wanted to make the best of a loveless marriage.)

No, the lack of any love between them was apparent every time Dan went home for a visit (with a hand extended for financial assistance). His parents showed no love for each other. In fact, they were often downright rude to one another, and showed outright contempt when they assumed he wasn’t paying attention.

Intent on going to grad school, Dan kept his part-time job and apartment near the small, land grant university to have extra spending money and advance studying time over the summer rather residing at home, listening to his parents’ incessant bickering. When he arrived home for a visit, he discovered dad had left for points unknown with all the cash set aside for Dan’s tuition. He found his mother waiting for him to arrive, all alone, crying, jobless and penniless.

With the money supply dried up and a distraught mother on his hands, he had to alter his plans suddenly. He cancelled registration to graduate school, vacated the furnished apartment, and moved home with little more than a few suitcases of clothes. At twenty-two, fate presented him a whole new set of rules to live by.

With the ink still wet on the degree in his hand Dan landed a fairly decent office job in the nearby city, and settled down to take on the responsibility of supporting his mother during her emotional ‘crisis’. Seemed to Dan that she wasn’t coping well with the stress of his dad’s hasty, somewhat unanticipated departure.

He tried to be patient and understanding; thankful for the life she had given him and the loving care with which she had raised him. His dad wasn’t involved with his upbringing, much. Mom was the principal source of influence on Dan’s youth. His dad worked during the day, and spent his evenings hopping from one bar to another in the town drinking up a storm. Dan discovered his tuition was funded by the proceeds of sharecropping the land surrounding the homestead. Dad had withdrawn all the money from the bank supposedly to pay for Dan’s tuition.

Fortunately, his mom was still an attractive and a surprisingly resilient woman. She met a new man to cuddle with during the following year, and departed to live with him, leaving Dan all alone in the big old house, built by his father’s father a long, long time ago. The family’s homestead was the only place Dan ever knew as "home". All of his friends (a few) lived in the nearby quiet superboonie, so he felt no need to go someplace else to start anew.

He believed title to the place was in his dad’s name, until he received a phone call from a real estate broker, intent on subdividing the adjacent acreage into lots and selling them off to a real estate developer piecemeal. Seems the land was ideal for annexation to the growing adjacent town if properly handled. The broker had done his homework well and checked everything out before calling. He was willing to handle the voluminous and intricate paperwork for Dan for a fair fee, if he was interested. Checking the county title records confirmed Dan’s ownership.

Grandpa was a crafty bird. He bequeathed the house and farm directly to Dan, to skip a generation of estate tax, following the sound advice of his shrewd lawyers. Dan was grandpa’s pride and joy; the sole offspring of his only son that grandpa was sure would squander the ever-increasing value of the real estate on booze if he had the chance. An ironclad trust made Dan grandpa’s sole beneficiary.

Dan knew that grandpa and dad never got along. He was pleased to discover his long-term future was provided for in spades. He was well off, well off indeed.

His mother often cautioned him to not do things haphazardly, so he decided to keep his job in the city, walking the half-mile trek to the train station each day to catch the inter-urban express, to stay in decent shape, rather than buy a car to drive the overcrowded expressways to work. He had declined the broker’s offer for the time being, as he enjoyed the quiet pastoral setting of the homestead and wasn’t in dire need of the money, nor the sizable tax bite he’d suffer consequent to a sell-off. He preferred to keep the land intact for the sharecropping income.

Life was pleasant. He continued to sleep in his own smaller bedroom in the same bed he got when he was a nine-year-old tyke. He avoided his parent’s bedroom leaving it undisturbed. Seeing their gloomy room empty gave him a cold chill, so he seldom ventured there, leaving bygone memories lie still until forgotten.

Life remained relatively peaceful for the following eight years. He had a nice, but aging home, a healthy bank account balance and a fulfilling occupation to occupy his time. He was content except for one issue, which he felt wasn’t too important.

He didn’t fare well at courtship. One reason was that he found most local girls he dated had one-track minds, and it headed directly to matrimony. He regarded the highly regarded primrose path his parents rushed down as one matter he’d prefer to postpone, if possible. He wasn’t eager to begin raising a family only to engage in constant bickering with an unhappy wife like his dad. So, he avoided pursuing serious courtship. He was in no hurry to live a life of dread with anyone.

His parents were miserable together, as far back as he could recollect. He saw no sense in repeating their folly. If he did decide to marry someday, it would not be borne of passion, but to satisfy the desire for compatible companionship. Lust wasn’t sufficient cause to vow undying fidelity to a woman. The daily procession through the office building where he worked led him to believe they were peas in a pod. Not one girl seemed to have a redeeming merit to make her stand out.

Around town, various townspeople gave him sidelong glances upon occasion or simply maintained their distance. No friends dared to share their insight as to the cause. Many locals viewed Dan as being eccentric and, over the years, he slowly developed a growing reputation for being a recluse.

That didn’t trouble him in particular but it accounted for the decline in the number of girls willing to share a night out on the town with him. At thirty-one, he wasn’t considered "available" anymore. Word around town was that girls who had gone out with him in the past regarded him as a quiet bachelor, but not a great "catch" by any means. That suited him just fine. When he felt lonely, he would visit the crowded bars of the city to find someone to share an evening with him.

Occasionally, not very often, he would encounter a woman eager and willing to satisfy his sullied need for carnal gratification. With his bleak outlook toward fostering a meaningful relationship of long tenure due to his dread of the type of lifestyle his parents led, one-night-stands was an ideal solution to his celibacy.

 

++++

 

Then, it happened. An attractive girl he approached one night in a bar he often frequented in the city laughed at him right to his face when he asked her for a date. She was intentionally cruel, to be sure. Her obvious purpose being: to put him down in front of the others present that heard his overture. His friends kidded him about it afterwards, and her bevy of friends cheered her on for being brazen toward a guy that was only interested in a quick roll in the hay.

He got shot down cold in front of co-workers and felt instantly humiliated. She was fairly good looking, like so many others who spruced up for the evening in search of male company, no outstanding beauty, and should have felt honored by his polite offer to buy dinner and take her out dancing one night later in the week. Instead, she had viciously rebuked him to publicly demean him. He wasn’t aware that she also lived in the same quiet suburb as he and was well aware of the local gossip about his growing reputation for becoming a modern-day hermit.

That’s why the title on the brochure that crossed his desk the very next day had caught his eye. As Dan was prone to do by nature, he tried to analyze why the girl was so voraciously spiteful when she cut him down to size. He didn’t think he had it coming. Dating her didn’t necessarily mean he’d try to force his attentions on her. A date merely provided both of them an opportunity to take further steps if the idea of spending the entire night together was mutually acceptable.

Deeply hurt, feeling innocent of wrongdoing, he wished to learn how to prevent a recurrence of the public humiliation that left him the target of gossip at the office coffee station the morning after. When he strode by to refill his own cup, the drop in voice level of the conversationalists who gathered there fell to an incoherent whisper. He had no choice but to assume the subject of their idle discussion was his embarrassing encounter the night before.

If the program outlined in the brochure could help him to recognize the girls likely to make a fool out of him in public, he’d best look into it further. That night, Dan read the entire folio from cover to cover four times, noting the locations where the seminar was to be held and how to respond. The brochure claimed their methods of identifying protagonists in the workplace and others who could want to hinder a person’s welfare were well worth investigating to provide the attendee an edge.

The next morning, Dan checked his desk calendar. He could easily take off time away from the office to attend an introductory session being offered in the city.

He thought it over. Being seen at a seminar of this nature by his peers at the time wasn’t a good idea; so he checked further to see where the same session was scheduled at other nearby cities, within reasonable distance. With a smile on his face, he chose one that was far enough away to assure no one he knew would see him, and mailed off a personal check with a copy of the filled-out application, using his home address for confirmation of his registration.

He received the confirmation a week later with a loose-leaf binder containing the complete text of the presentation. He spent the balance of the week’s evenings browsing through the in-depth material, convinced the data alone was well worth his investment. The authors’ material was written with authority. The quality of diction and easy to follow logic was impressive.

This text must have years of tested trial and error to develop. They gave example after example of successful implementation of the tenets suggested to advance a person’s career. Not only that, but they added commentary on how to apply the same principles to life in general, which was what Dan wanted, most of all.

As the date drew nearer, Dan spent more and more free time studying the thick outline. He was intent on being prepared to glean as much as he could from his investment of time and money. One evening, while he studied, a week before he was to attend the seminar, he received a phone call from a proctor, to confirm his expected attendance and to elicit any special concerns Dan had considered.

He wasn’t about to discuss the event that fermented his registration, so he tried to elude to a need for better communication with peers as his primary purpose for attending. A long pause on the other end of the phone conversation signified the acknowledgement of his breach with frank honesty and thinly veiled evasiveness.

"I see. (Pause.) Reviewing your application form I have in front of me, I notice you are almost thirty-two and unmarried, Dan. Can I be so bold as to suggest that you are interested in finding new ways to be considered more attractive socially with someone with whom you would like to spend a great deal of time?"

"Well, yes, that’s very true, in a way, but not by anyone in particular." He gulped. The interviewer was telling Dan he was no fool and had perceived his unasserted reasons for applying. "Of course, I was hoping to learn new things to apply to my profession, as well. I didn’t give a lot of thought to personal associations when I applied. It would help, though. I don’t get to do much socializing, so that isn’t an important issue. I sell product warranties for my employer, after customers had declined them when making their purchases. Identifying each customer’s main objection and overcoming it is the surest route to expound on related benefits offered, recovering the lost warranty sale. I’m proud of my track record doing my job, but I try to find new ways to improve my job performance when I can."

"I see." There it was again. The man clearly doubted Dan’s proffered platitudes. "No matter. If you’d rather, I can review your intentions with you in person before the seminar gets started. My name is Phil Jacobs. You can find me outside in the foyer, next to the conference room early on Monday morning. Arrive early. Think about ways you’d use the seminar data to bolster your personal ego effectively in and outside the confines of your job. In the meantime, have a good evening."

"Click" The line went dead.

Whatever else Phil Jacobs was, Dan thought he was a seer. He could foresee Dan’s wish to improve his social life, even before they met. Dan wondered how the man was able to deduce the goals he didn’t mention. After pondering on the matter, it occurred to Dan that the man might have used a prepared dialogue.

"Of course! He asks everyone the same thing, to add spice to the presentation." He looked around the empty living room for some unknown person to agree with his ascertainment. Then, he felt foolish for speaking aloud to an empty house.

 

++++

 

He took the Sunday night Red Eye flight out and arrived at his destination well before the time the seminar was to begin. After a leisurely breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant, he set down the empty cup from his third refill. He spotted a man wearing a plastic nametag like the one provided in the packet of information he received. He pulled out his nametag, put it on and got up to follow the guy.

Soon, he was outside a small conference room, and spotted Phil Jacobs greeting people Dan assumed were other attendees. Jacob smiled when he saw Dan "Ah, Dan Willis. It’s nice to see you. Did you have a good flight in?"

"Yes, in fact, I did, Mr. Jacobs. Nothing spectacular happened if that’s what you mean. It arrived right on time. I had plenty of time for a healthy breakfast."

"Good. So did I. The restaurant here has a ---" Blah, blah, blah. Get to the point. Dan was almost eager to say out loud. He knew the guy was itching to find out the real reason for Dan coming to the seminar. Might as well tell him now, so he can gloat over guessing that something personal prompted Dan to attend."

" -------------- So, the following morning I spotted your flyer in the daily mail, and signed up after reading more about what the seminar entailed. I’ve read the outline over too, and found its content to be very well-developed."

"Thanks, Dan. You know, any well-trained speaker can deliver today’s session. It’s a very inspirational program as it stands now, and we revise it annually. In fact, it’s a culmination of observations made over several decades of careful research by our predecessors and the current development team.

Case studies encountered provide the unique inspirations that most motivational seminars lack. Thanks for sharing with me what had happened to inspire you to attend. Believe it or not, it’s a key element in how today’s seminar can help you best. That’s why we call ahead to ask you to think over what led you to sign up before you arrive. As you mentioned to me last week, to entice a new customer to buy, you need to identify the principal objection, and then, overcome it."

"You remember my saying that last week? I’m impressed. You must have a great memory, Mr. Jacobs. I’d never remember a minor detail like that from a casual phone conversation with someone I’ve never met. How do you do it?"

"Just practice. Each advance phone call that I make, I jot down a key issue that came up. In your case, it was overcoming a principal objection. In a moment, I’ll cross it off in my notes and replace ‘principle objection’ with the word ‘rejection’. If you concentrate on the primary goal of overcoming your rejection during today’s session, you will be surprised at how differently you will interpret the material as it’s presented. No single seminar can possibly address every issue that confronts a person. It’s up to the attendees to direct the content to a personal objective."

"Makes good sense. I’ll try to do just that."

"Good. Say, time’s up. I have to get the program started. Could I interest you in staying later for hors’ duevres and cocktails when the program is over. I’d like to hear your impressions on the presentation styles you hear today."

"I’d be honored." He sounded sincere, but Dan got a feeling he knew Dan would be more attentive to the session if asked to critique the presentation afterwards.

Four different speakers took turns every half hour or so kept the program moving at a rapid pace. A popular comic addressed a provided luncheon once waiters whisked the tables clean of dishes and silverware to lessen noise a crowd makes while eating. It was an entertaining speech, but unrelated to the seminar content.

By the end of the day, Dan’s mind was reeling from the list of issues he marked on his outline worthy of comment. One thing was sure: this day was merely an introductory session to expose complex techniques designed to identify hidden meanings in what was considered to be idle chatter everyone encounters.

Dan was anxious to share his impressions with Mr. Jacobs. More so, he wanted to inquire when advanced sessions were scheduled to hone his skills on using the techniques cited. A one-day seminar would hardly make the smartest person competent or a devotee of the intricate skills exposed here.

"Certainly. We have several different advanced classes, Dan. Most are geared toward rapid career enhancement, others toward learning social graces.

Let’s have a seat in the lounge where we all can chat in a group. Hearing about what others showing interest in continuing have to say about today’s session. It might be helpful." Mr. Jacobs did a round robin introduction of the dozen or so attendees taking seats around a large circular, low, glass-topped table in the center of the nearly empty cocktail lounge. A cocktail waitress took drink orders and two waiters set down oval trays of hot hors duevres before the group of men finished congregating and settled down. Not one woman was among the group.

Each man in turn gave his unique perspective on the day’s presentation. Some of the men repeated similar qualities that others had mentioned and added tidbits of their own. Gradually, one by one they excused themselves to catch flights home as the evening wore on. Mr. Jacobs and one of the members of the presentation team made recommendations to the parting guests and distributed schedules of the available advanced sessions to add to what they learned that day.

The crowd dwindled to three others besides Dan and Mr. Jacobs. One was the other presentation team member, and two were fellow seminar attendees. The two remaining attendees seemed anxious to know why Mr. Jacobs discouraged them from leaving yet. Dan was in no hurry. His return flight home wasn’t due to leave until the wee hours of the morning. He was gleaning whatever he could.

"Gentlemen, each of you had a unique reason for attending today’s session. If we polled the entire crowd, the principle reason cited by all the others would be the same. They were intent on using information that we provide for furthering their careers, taking advantage of people less informed than they now are.

From the entire group assembled today, only you three men stated that you had personal motives for attending. You three responded, though reluctantly, that you signed up to further your ability to discover better ways to make new meaningful relationships, as the title of the session implied, but not expressly for the purpose of exploiting those you encounter. We feel that your personal goals are worthy of closer study, one-on-one.

Therefore, we’d like to extend an invitation to attend an advanced session free of charge in exchange for detailed interviews with a member of the staff afterwards. At these interviews, we may make recommendations to enhance what you learn. Then if we deem it appropriate, we’ll invite you to participate in a controlled case study like the ones we use to revise the advanced programs. Any questions?"

All three had additional questions. An intense discussion continued for the next hour or so. The other two accepted their invitations to attend additional seminars for free, and finally bid their farewells, along with Mr. Jacobs’ associate.

"Stick around, Dan, if you can. Let’s have another drink before calling it a night."

Dan checked his watch. He had a few hours to spare. "Sure why not?"

His first thought was that he wasn’t driving. Secondly, he was still wound up from the plethora of information thrown at him, and thirdly, this Jacob’s guy was willing to talk, and was interesting. Why not use the time to find out what made him tick?

"How long have you been doing these seminars, Mr. Jacobs?"

"Hey, time out. I took my tie off over an hour ago. Call me Phil, Dan." Without his waiting for a reply, he continued. "Been doing this kind of work for over six years, and love every minute of it. You’d be surprised at how much detail I learn about the nature of different people by choreographing these presentations."

"I can imagine. I couldn’t do it."

"Dan, I’m sure you could, with a bit of training. I’m glad you agreed to stay behind when the others left. I might have a position for you to consider." Dan was about to say he wasn’t good at public speaking and didn’t think he could face a crowd of people in a closed forum, but he was cut short.

"Wait, before you respond, what I have in mind isn’t what you think. Becoming a captivating speaker is easy as pie, once you get the hang of it. That’s not what I have in mind, initially. First, I’d like to hear the entire story about your nightclub putdown. An in-depth case study about it would be a peach. I’ll bet that there’s a twist to your background not covered before in our voluminous annals. Hmm?"

"Aw, heck. You’d be disappointed. I’m just a dull guy from a small town near a big city. Your company must have interviewed a thousand guys just like me."

"Possibly, in which case, there’s no reason for you to decline my offer. We’ll pay you very well for the time involved for the initial phase of the study if you decide you’d rather not continue further in this line of work."

"Sorry. I already have a decent job. It’s not the greatest, but I have some tenure, and the perks are good. I’m sure a promotion isn’t too far off in the future. I’m not about to toss it away for a short-term case study, even if the pay is fantastic."

"Don’t be hasty, Dan. What I’m suggesting here may lead to a long-term career position. Many of our employees started out providing their histories and decided that they’d like to stay on, to learn more. You seem bright. I’ll bet you carried a straight ‘A’ average in college. Why didn’t you go on to graduate school?"

Dan explained about his plans to attend graduate school, but how the crisis at home nipped his plans in the bud at the last minute. The effect of many cocktails and the easy manner of Mr. Jacobs voice lulled Dan into spilling his guts about the way his dad had cut out and left him behind to care for his mom.

When questioned further, Dan explained how his mom subsequently left town a year later with a man she had met and fell in love with, which resulted in Dan’s living all alone in the big house for the past nine years. He lost track of time, as he continued to bare his soul and unburden his woes to this avid listener.

"Hmm. Tell me again about the night that girl that put you down when you asked her for a date. Exactly how long did you stick around in the place afterwards?"

"I couldn’t get away fast enough."

"Why do you fault your folks for their speedy departures from a loathsome set of circumstances? You acted in a similar fashion when that girl stuck your head into a toilet in public. Most people try to evade bad situations in haste if they can. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. What’s unusual is how long your parents stuck it out. You fled from that bar in haste, did you not? I know I would have."

"Hard to say. My dad claimed it was his sense of responsibility to me that led him to stick it out as long as he did. I don’t believe it for a minute. He was tapping into money that was supposed to be mine for his boozing. When I turned twenty-one, and he was about to lose control over the sharecropping money the farm made, he ran off with what he could withdraw from the bank claiming he planned to pay my grad school tuition. With it gone, I had to drop out before the semester started or face heavy penalties and eventually get tossed out for nonpayment, anyway."

"Why do you suppose they never told you that the farm was left to you by your granddad? Seems to me they would have said something about it to you."

"Can’t say. I think my mom was afraid of my dad’s temper. Maybe that was why she was so cold toward him. He may have threatened her. I don’t know."

So the evening went on, until they were politely advised that the bar was closing up for the night. It was then that Dan realized that he’d miss his flight. Phil told him not to worry. He called his associate en route to exchange Dan’s ticket at the airport before catching his own flight. Dan’s ticket was successfully exchanged for a flight leaving at the same time as Phil’s flight. The seminar firm would cover the difference and late charge for Dan’s reservation. At last call, Phil had the bar send a bottle of good Scotch up to his room and invited Dan to join him for one last nightcap, explaining that Dan could sleep late in the empty hospitality suite next to Phil’s suite the firm reserved in conjunction with the day’s seminar. Dan accepted the invitation, curious about Phil’s interest in him.

By the time Dan passed out in a chair in Phil’s room, the Sun was on the horizon.

 

++++

 

"Damn! I should have been back at work already."

"Still intent on going back to that dead-end job, Dan? We covered that at length last night, didn’t we? There’s no promotion coming up in the near future for you at that company. Is there Dan?"

"No, that was hype and wishful thinking. I wouldn’t want to take charge of a boiler room full of phone solicitors, anyway. It’s an easy job with little responsibility, not much more. What I do there isn’t very important, to anyone. If I wanted to, I could quit it in a heartbeat and live comfortably on the farm’s sharecropping income."

"Why don’t you?"

"Why should I? With my uneventful social life, I’d go stir crazy sitting around the house doing nothing. Maybe my parents should have spent more time teaching me how to get along socially. I can count true friends on one hand. The scenery at work is great, though. Half the people in the building are single girls in search of a ‘prince charming’ to sweep them off their feet. I’ll miss it."

"Consider yourself lucky. Most guys can count their true friends on one hand and have fingers left over. That’s why I think it’s wise for you to make a career switch now, to one that would present you with exciting challenges each and every day. You found the subject matter of yesterday’s seminar fascinating, didn’t you? Think how exciting it would be to be an intrinsic part of such a program."

"For how long, a few weeks of telling you my life’s story? Then what do I do?"

"Weeks? What gave you that idea? I think it’ll take a year, at the minimum. After that, you might consider drafting the presentation texts, distributing invitations, and possibly making phone calls like the one I made to you. When you’re ready, we’ll have you do an intro spot at a seminar to test your ability to stand up in front of an audience and later build you up to give full hour-long talks if you’d like.

I’m a good judge of character, Dan. You don’t get ruffled too easily, except when someone tries to shoot you down in flames. If I’m not mistaken, that’s precisely why you signed up for our seminar in the first place. Did you expect some miracle from a one-day inspirational seminar? Now, I’m offering you an in-depth, one-on-one expose to teach you how to stay on your feet and recover from any situation like the one that made you feel like groveling. If that put-down happened a year from now, the same bitch would be eating crow if she tried that ploy on you."

"Don’t tempt me. I’d give my left nut to see that tart land on her carcass."

"I don’t think that drastic a move would be warranted, but you will have to put in a lot of effort to learn to think fast and spot an attack coming your way.

If you don’t think you can handle facing adversaries, maybe you should stick to the job you have. You can’t catch many lumps wearing a telephone headset. In my humble opinion, any guy who lets some loud-mouthed hussy get away with trampling on his ego and making him out to be a big fool in public has himself to blame for being stuck in go-nowhere job. Suit yourself. Go back to that peaceful little home-on-the-range of yours and think it over. Should you decide you prefer to become a real meat-eater and learn how to become a love magnet, give me a call. I’m in no hurry. We won’t begin, in earnest, to incorporate new information into our seminar programs for at least another year."

"I’d have to give my present employer sufficient notice, first."

"Oh. --- I see." There it was again. Dan realized he had just agreed to Phil’s offer, without saying yes to it directly. "How long?"

"Two weeks, I suppose. Still, I can’t guarantee you that I can become what you expect of me. Sounds exciting, though. I never did any public speaking before. " He did it again. He realized that he accepted without even knowing how much money the job would pay, so he tried to back out of his assertion, or qualify it.

"You let me worry about that. I think you have the gumption, but you don’t know that, as of yet. We’ll pay a thousand a month for starters and do a full quality review after a year. How much are you being paid at your present job?"

"Almost twice that. I make a flat salary plus commissions that come to about two grand a month. I now have full benefits and two weeks’ of paid vacation. See. I didn’t think you could match what I make. Let’s forget it. It sounds too risky."

"We’ll not only match your salary, we’ll offer you a trial six-months at ten percent more, twenty percent more for the next six months and then give you a five-grand bonus if you last out the year and complete the internship.

Show me the kind of talent I think you have, and I’ll promise you another twenty percent the following year. That’s far more than your present job offers. If you’d prefer, you can ask your present employer for a six-month leave of absence for personal reasons and return in six months to what you’re doing now if you should decide your exciting new profession is unsuitable."

"Sounds fair, but I’d like to see it in writing, if you don’t mind." Mr. Jacobs pulled out his pen from his coat pocket and jotted it all down on a note pad.

"I think we have a deal. Let me confer with the board. I’ll phone you as soon as I get their approval. In the meantime, you’d better get a move on. The rented limo is waiting downstairs to take us to the airport. I’ll call you tonight with my answer and can arrive with a typed engagement agreement for you to sign late tomorrow evening. In the meantime, formulate your notice to your employer.

If you’ll change your mind before then, no hard feelings." He extended his hand and Dan shook it to seal the bargain. Dan realized that the ‘tacit’ board approval was only a dodge. He felt like he was already working for Mr. Jacobs’ company.

Dan’s attitude during the trip back home was upbeat. He hadn’t made a serious decision for some time, letting things go along without asserting himself in any way. Maybe it was time to take the proverbial bull by the horns, he thought. Little did he know how prophetic that old cliché would turn out to be.

 

++++

 

"A physical exam, I can understand, Phil. But, I’ll need to submit to a battery of blood tests, too? I’m not sure if I want to do that. Why should I?"

"Standard screening procedure required for all new staff members. Decline if you wish, but you won’t be able to join the team. All personnel do a lot of traveling. You might pick up some habit or get an infectious virus while traveling the circuit. The insurance company wants to be sure you don’t already have one before you start working for the firm. Is there a problem you don’t want us to know about?"

"That’s a fine how-do-you-do. I already turned in my leave of absence at my old job and was summarily advised I wouldn’t be welcome back. I don’t have any ‘bad habits’ or s.t.d.’s to conceal. Why not take my affidavit like the last job did?"

"Why the sudden resentment? Look. The results of the blood tests will be held in strict confidence. Only the board will know if you have a skeleton in your closet. There’s no need to panic. The insurance carrier is firm about submitting the blood tests. I can’t permit you avoid taking them. You’ll probably tell me all about your mysterious reluctance while we compile your life history. Why get upset over the clinic doing its job? We’ll eventually find out. Won’t we?" (Phil wasn’t willing to let Dan know he just received the report about Dan’s pre-existing medical condition from the thorough background check done on Dan.)

"It’s nothing sinister or contagious, Phil. I was born with an anomaly, that’s all. I’ve been taking prescription drugs for it since I was a kid, to keep it in check."

"Just what kind of drugs are you taking?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"I probably will know, sooner or later. Why not tell me about it now?"

"Okay. At present, I take prednisone, aldactazide and a mild form of premarin."

"Splendid! Uh, I mean, amazing, Dan. What in the world are they for?"

"Excessive testosterone production from an adrenal disorder I have."

"How long have you been taking them?"

"I started when I was nine. I matured early. The amused doctor said it wasn’t a dangerous disorder, and I’d grow out of it eventually, but I didn’t. If I don’t take the regulated dosage on schedule I get hornier than a hoot owl."

"You were horny little toad when you were nine years old? How could you tell? Describe the symptoms to me."

"Come on, Phil. It’s embarrassing. Surely, you can guess."

"You got a little woodie? Hey! Outstanding! How’d you handle the problem?"

"That isn’t very funny!" Dan’s glare was enough to make Phil take the smirk off his face and not make another off-color remark without thinking first.

"How do you think I did? I had blisters and calluses from whipping the old bishop, and I still stayed erect, no matter how hard I tried. For a nine-year-old kid, I was well developed and found it impossible to hide. If you tell me I should flaunt it if I got it, I’ll slug you. It’s no fun being the blunt of every nurse’s joke at my doctor’s office. Believe me, those women treated me as if I was a lecherous freak.

You’re also wrong if you say you wish you had my problem. It’s a damn curse. If there was a guaranteed way to cure it, I’d take the cure with pleasure."

"I’m sure you would, especially the pleasure part." Phil ducked Dan’s swing and held up his arms in comic self-defense and surrender.

"Hey, chill out, man! I could hardly pass up a one-liner lead-in you left wide open. You should try harder to avoid being the straight man for a quick-witted guy like me. No one in his right mind would skip a chance like that."

"No, I suppose that I can’t, but I’ll tell you this: If you let a word of this get out to the other people that I have to work with in the company, I’ll resign on the spot. That’s why I want to avoid the blood tests you mentioned. Someone is bound to make party jokes out of the fact that I have to take those drugs to act normal. If I forget to take them or forget to refill the prescription and run out, you won’t want to be around, trust me."

"Why not? If I know all about the condition and I am considerate of your problem, I’d try to ignore the reactions, wouldn’t I? Fact is, it might be worth checking into further, for your profile, I mean. It could be a significant factor in developing your personal history. I’m sure we never came across a situation like this before."

"No thanks, Phil. I thought you were interested in my ulterior motives for going to the seminar, not looking into why I must use drugs to subdue my libido."

"I think the motives might be related. As your interrogator in compiling the initial phase about your background, I have an obligation to make certain inquiries into your past. I’ll want to see copies of the early diagnosis of your condition and prior treatments from the beginning until the present. I‘m asking for your permission to confer with your current doctor as well as those that treated you in the past. How might I best go about it? Will you give me your personal consent to inquire?"

"Those records are confidential. They won’t give anything to you. I don’t want you to pry into my past, if you don’t mind. You’re not a doctor, so forget it."

"Oh, but I am a doctor, dear fellow, I am. I have PhDs in psychology, psychiatry and a master’s degree in chemistry. Otherwise, I’d be a little more than a quack meddler, not a professional analyst. To properly researching into the makeup of a personality with sufficient control parameters to publish the results uncovered as a legitimate case study, I must adhere to strict professional guidelines or findings wouldn’t be worth the paper they’re written on. Publishing a valuable research requires proper study conditions to garner respect from the scientific community.

I’m sorry if I neglected to spell out my professional standing to you in advance, but I didn’t want to dissuade you by representing myself as some aloof egghead, because that I’m not, to be sure. I wanted you to feel confident of my personality before reciting any code of ethics, and before advising you that our work is a serious undertaking, not to be dismissed too lightly. Dan, would you really be willing to divulge your innermost secrets about personal history to just anyone?"

"Well, I wasn’t intending to divulge my ‘innermost secrets’, regardless. What I’ve told you could be a ruse for all you know. I trust you Phil, or I wouldn’t have said anything about it. Not because of your personality or an impressive string of fancy degrees, but because the blood tests I will have to take would show the drugs I’m taking, anyway. At this point, it doesn’t matter much. Without my taking those bloody tests, I’m out of a job, so go ahead. You’ve my permission to dig all you want."

"Not good enough, Dan. I need a written authorization."

"Oh. What if I refuse to sign one?"

"I guess we go back to square one. Without you giving your authorization, we’d have no reliable clinical background available to substantiate a plausible purpose for you using such unusual drugs. Do you know of any other reasons people use the same drugs without treating the unusual condition you have?"

"I never considered it. Now that you ask, I can imagine, yet don’t understand why they’d want to do it, unless they had to, Phil. Why would a guy want to shut down a normal libido? I have to be very careful not to overdose. If I ever do, I could end up with the opposite condition, no libido, at all. I’d become a eunuch."

"Precisely."

"There are guys like that? They shut their libido down? Are they nuts?"

"Not really, they pose a variety of reasons, few have serious mentally disorders. They have a completely different perspective on life from the average person, if there is such a thing as an average person. They feel trapped inside the wrong body, genetically. At one time, the condition was generally regarded as a mental imbalance, but research has since proved that they possess the mental outlook of the opposite gender and it’s more common than you’d imagine. Your hormonal condition may be considered akin to theirs, but to the opposite extreme. Omit the carefully controlled medication, and you could be a raving sex fiend, I suppose."

"That’s why you are willing to pay me a handsome salary and a hefty bonus if I stick it out for a year: to find out what makes me tick. Is that it?"

"If you insist, yes, Dan. But, you needn’t be so blunt. Would you be willing to let me dig deep into your psyche otherwise? Yes, I admit I was quite eager to enlist you. I haven’t tried to deceive you in any way. Your cooperation is still voluntary, is it not? What did you expect of me, Dan? Was I supposed to advise you I knew about your condition and ruin an opportunity that presented itself to me on a silver platter? I was very tempted to tell you what I knew, the night I first called you, but considered it would be crass.

What if I told you: ‘Hey, Mr. Willis, I happened to spot your name on a seminar application. I know about you! You’re the horny guy with very leaky balls. Want to sign up with us to have your head examined?’ How responsive would you be?"

"I wish you would have told me before I quit my job. I’d have never done it."

"Oh, I don’t think you had a choice in the matter. You were slowly growing stale in that job after eight years. There wasn’t a way to promote you, so you would have quit or gotten fired, eventually. Just because I didn’t approach you directly, telling you that you were going nowhere fast at a job we could extract you from and the misery, doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. I think I handled it far more tactfully."

"Some tact you used. Your promise of an exciting career as a seminar speaker is probably as phony as the phone call. How am I supposed to feel about that?"

"That career offer was the genuine article and it still is. I think that you’ll make an excellent addition to my staff, Dan. I’ll see to it. Trust me.

It just so happens I had motives for enlisting you that I didn’t mention at the time. That’s one thing, but every promise I made since the moment we talked after the seminar is true. A year from now, you’ll be busy as a bee, with a great job and a promising future. I never lied to you, and I never will. I could hardly expect you to cooperate if I did. Maybe I should have been more open, but I doubt it."

"I don’t have much choice, do I?"

"Nonsense. You’re a young, aggressive guy. You’d find another job easily, if you ever feel that I’m pulling a fast one. You’ll never regret accepting this offer. You may be in for a few surprises along the way, but very few disappointments. Let’s get over to the clinic, Dan. The limo’s waiting."

"Why a limo? Don’t you have a car, either?"

"No, and I have little need for one. Every time that I had an important meeting to attend, my last car gave me trouble and I had to call a cab, anyway. Most of my work is out of town, so I had to pay a fortune for parking at the airport and,

--- Say! I’m supposed to be asking you questions, not the other way around!"

As they drove off to arrange for the physical, Phil continued. "I can see why you like the town you live in. It’s as peaceful here as you said. Would you be inclined to let me interview you here, at your home, instead of at my office?"

"That’d be great. I’d prefer to. I dislike crowded cities and congested traffic."

"Well, for one, my office isn’t even near a crowded city. Secondly, it might prove to be a bit of a bother, since you would need to commute back and forth while I’m away presenting seminars I have scheduled. Thirdly, it would be just as easy for me to travel here, as it would be for me to go home between seminars. No sense for either of us to travel back and for regularly. It’s sound economics. All I’d need is a hotel suite in town. How are the accommodations around here?"

"Not the best like you’re used to, I’m afraid. Say. Why don’t you stay at my place? There are four bedrooms, well, three that aren’t in current use. You could use the downstairs bedroom with it’s own private bath. Grandpa had it added to the back of the house when his legs gave out. He’s been gone for over twenty years. Even then, grandpa slept on the settee. The bed in that room has never been slept in."

"Hmm. I don’t want to impose."

"Nonsense!"

"Dan, I’m afraid you don’t understand. Some of the work we do will involve your adopting to roles to determine how you respond to various stimuli. That will take some time, as the roles require preparing for them in advance."

"I’d like you to accept my hospitality. If you refuse, I’ll be insulted!"

"Once I begin collecting historical data, we’ll be spending a lot of time together. You may prefer to maintain some degree of privacy, Dan. I don’t mind staying at a local hotel. I use them more often than you’d think, while I’m on tour with the seminar presentations. I’m often away from home for weeks at a time."

"All the more reason for your staying at the house. Think of the savings. Hotels are expensive and my house is too big for one guy. I haven’t had another soul to invite over. The change in routine would be welcome."

Okay. Have it your own way. But, remember. I gave you fair warning."

"What’s that supposed to mean?

"I’ve looked into a variety of sexual dysfunctions and believe there may be a way to cure your hormonal problem. I can’t be sure, mind you, but I’ll see if I can find the studies done in the past that confirm a premise I believe applies. I’ll be gone for at least a week to finish the current tour, Dan. As soon as I can, I’ll call to let you know when I can be back. Let the limo drop me off at the airport first. Then use it to go the clinic for your physical and blood tests. It’s booked for the whole day. Have it drop you off at home before you release it.

Here. Call me on my private cell phone when you get home. I can make a few inquiries while I’m in transit. By tonight, I might be able to clue you in on what we’ll want to concentrate on when I return. Then, we can begin in earnest. I’ll ship you material to study while I’m away. When I’m confident of what I suspect is true, I’ll tell you more about it.

I also can have an information release form for you to sign faxed directly to your doctor’s office. Give me his phone number, so I can call him and advise him that you intend to have him share his files with me. Then, I’ll have him call you to let you know when he can fit you into his schedule. I would appreciate it if you’d sign it today if it arrives in time and he is willing to see you. My office will fax you the forms, since I’ll still be in transit.

Don’t worry. The office won’t wonder why I’m requesting your medical history. I’ll have your doctor send your file right to my private office at home. I’ll be the only one to see it, unless you say otherwise. I promise you."

"Won’t your wife see it if you’re not there when it arrives?"

"I hope not, since I don’t have a wife. I’m a confirmed bachelor, Dan. Being on the road as often as I am, being married and having a family wouldn’t be fair to a woman. I guess my work is my true mistress. I find it’s very captivating. Who knows, perhaps you will too, once you’ve been at it for a while."

"I wouldn’t mind that a bit. My last job left little for me to get excited about. It’s obvious to me that your work has to be interesting. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be willing to traipse all across the country doing it."

"Call me tonight. Don’t forget."

++++

 

Dan’s daylong visit to the clinic for a physical and blood tests was an unpleasant chore. He had met the doctor there before, but Dan wasn’t impressed with his dry manner. His own doctor was a very pleasant man and understood Dan’s situation from long years of treating his disorder. He never made offhand comments or a snide suggestion that something terrible in his lineage was at fault like the nurses did. Dan felt his dad’s genes went haywire from his excessive drinking, and he passed the uncommon affliction on to him because of it. His doctor didn’t agree. He felt the anomaly was something for which no one was directly at fault.

When all the tests at the clinic were complete and they released him. The clinic’s receptionist mentioned that his doctor had called to confirm that he would be free to meet up with Dan very late in the afternoon, after his last patient appointment, sometime after five. She offered to call him back for Dan to let him know whether or not Dan could make it.

Dan thanked her and told her he would tend to it himself, as he planned to run a few errands, first. He didn’t think it was necessary to tell the woman that he had a plush limo at his disposal for the entire day and intended to put it to good use. He also wanted to feel out his doctor’s initial response to Mr. Jacob’s request.

He didn’t get to speak directly to his doctor when he called. The nurse told him his doctor wanted to speak with him at length, over dinner, if possible. Dan was glad. He spent the balance of the afternoon shopping for groceries, and a set of bed linens for the room to put up Mr. Jacobs, that is: Dr. Jacobs, he recalled.

He picked up his doctor at his office with the limo, to impress him, which worked. He offered to buy dinner, and asked his doctor if he’d mind eating at a restaurant few people in town frequented much. It was a long ride the two used to talk about how Dan got involved in a personality study with a seminar company.

Dan enjoyed providing the luxury of a chauffeured limo, as he told his doctor all about Dr. Phillip Jacobs, the man who recently took interest in him.

"I’ve heard of him, Dan. In fact, I think I heard him speak a few years back. If he wants you to work for him, I suggest you go for it. Why is he asking for your file? It’s a bit out of his line, now. He sold his solid practice off to head up a self-help group some time ago. I doubt if the research he proposes has much to do with a clinical analysis of your condition. He addresses people’s career advances now."

"His seminars go beyond career development. He uses case studies to revise the seminars for a multitude of objectives. He said he recruits his staff from people who participate. He thinks my condition might provide him data that hasn’t been acquired previously. That’s what he told me, leastwise. I don’t know if my excess aggression is rare condition in this day and age. I was fortunate you diagnosed it early and helped me to quell the pent-up rage with medication."

"Aggression is a rather common condition in men, Dan. Your condition was more severe than any case I’d ever seen in a lad of your age when it developed. Your testes dropped very early. At the time, I didn’t bother with telling you the boring details, but you were a nasty little boy back then. You probably don’t remember much about it. The first medication I tried was hard to regulate and took lots of time before your temper stabilized to a normal level. Can the driver hear me?"

"No. I have the intercom shut off. If I want him to hear, I switch it back on."

"Good. Leave the intercom off. As you grew older, I carefully explained why you needed to take certain drugs instead of the ones other doctors often prescribe. You see, most doctors felt mental processes cause pattern male aggression. In many cases, that diagnosis is correct, which would indicate Valium as the proper drug to prescribe twenty years ago. It worked well for you, but a bad side effect of Valium is lower ambition levels. It usually makes a person who doesn’t need it to appear to be drowsy. Your folks noticed your change in behavior.

Your dad found out what I prescribed and had a fit. The movie: Valley of the Dolls was playing, so he figured that you’d end up an addict taking the drug most often used by women with stress related symptoms. I couldn’t deny that Valium was a prevalent cure often used for menopausal mood swings. To placate his ridiculous unfounded concerns, I conferred with other doctors about adrenal stimulants that could be used instead. That’s why you’re on prednizone. It is effective remedy for a variety of conditions, but didn’t do the job well. It’s hard for the body to regulate, so dosage requirements can vary. I introduced other drugs to augment it.

I tested a variety of other cortocosteroid drugs over time with little improvement, and settled on your current medication and dosage after exhausting every other conceivable product available on the market. New discoveries are being made with greater frequency. There’s little demand made for advancement in treating your condition, so the new ones are ‘glamour" drugs like Zantac and Viagra.

"We’re here. Let’s eat, doc. I feel you did the right thing from day one. I want you to know that I intend to continue to use you as my primary physician, if that’s any concern to you. I trust Dr. Jacobs, but would like you to backstop any changes he might suggest. He thinks he knows of a potential way to cure my condition."

"I wish him luck. What you take is working well. I’m reluctant to change them."

The two talked over dinner, and Dan asked the doctor a lot of questions, and had him leave out the grizzly details when the doctor discussed surgical procedures that were considered, but always dismissed. He thanked the doctor for diligence and for not resorting to a scalpel. Dan’s doctor didn’t believe in intrusive surgery if drugs provided a safe alternative, even if it didn’t cure the imbalance totally.

After dinner, Dan asked what other measures were available.

"Different doctors have different philosophies. Some think the mind can control a person’s glandular functions. Some claim they have used alternative medicine to achieve levels of suppression in glandular disorders. I prefer to adhere to popular mainstream approaches. If Dr. Jacobs attempts to encourage you to wander far from the accepted practices of medicine, please call me for confirmation prior to discontinuing your medication. If he merely wants to alter your dosage to some degree, I see no harm in it. I intended to lower your dosage some time ago, but you seem to be functioning well, so I postponed changing it. How do you feel?"

"I’m fine."

"How do you feel about women, Daniel?"

"I think every man should maintain a list of women to ward off the cold of night on occasion. They do get feisty and demanding. A few think they should own a man, if that’s what you mean. They can, as far as I care, so long as it’s someone else."

"Hmm. Maybe I should reduce your dosage right away. A man of your age should show interest in finding a woman he can call his own to satisfy his needs."

"Why?"

"Tradition, I suppose. Maybe misery loves company. I love my wife dearly. She’s a great partner and brightens my day every morning. Give it some thought."

"Am I supposed to wake up every day with the urge to copulate? I don’t doc, and glad of it. I’ve had my share of panting over every damn skirt in town. With my condition, I’m better off without the urges. I function well without having constant erections, thank you. Maybe you should find out what caused it, and make some really big money, like the manufacturers of Viagra. There’s a product I’ll never need. I suppose it’s a boon to guys that have the opposite problem."

"The men who need it often wake up with an erection like others, Dan. They don’t get erections or can’t maintain one when they need one, that’s all. Like any new product, it’s misused a lot. I don’t see any significant harm in prescribing it."

Dan had the chauffeur drive his doctor home first, and then him. Dan was sure Dr. Jacobs wouldn’t try to convince him or his doctor to use any alternative drugs or untried practices. He called Dr. Jacobs to inform him of is dinner meeting with his primary physician. He went to bed confident that the coming interviews would not be of any value. Nor would it invoke any changes on him. Meanwhile, he was employed, even if he had no daily assignment schedule to maintain, per se.

 

++++

 

That changed the following day. A courier service delivered a heavy package of reading material. Most were texts from different seminars sponsored by the firm. Others were pamphlets on various medical terms, studies of different hormonal and endocrine gland conditions and a few covered the aberrant sexual practices resulting from physical disorders. Of course, those books caught Dan’s interest first, because of his peculiar glandular anomaly. He spent two full days reading about things people had to do to adjust to peculiar circumstances. Post-it tags on these suggested he learn more about every conceivable aspect of sexuality.

By Friday that week when Dr. Jacobs called to advise him he would arrive for his first interview on Monday, he responded by asking Dr. Jacobs for more books on the subject of glandular disorders, claiming he had neglected to study the subject because of the effects his condition had on his composure. Dan’s swift change in attitude impressed the doctor.

"Good. Good. I’ll bring some not available in most bookstores with me. We can discuss what you’ve learned over the past week when I get there. Frankly, I was surprised that your curiosity didn’t prompt you to investigate it when you were a youngster. Go to the local office supply store and buy a fax machine if you have the time today. It’s easy to install one. I’ll see that you are reimbursed for it. Be sure to save the invoice. When you have the fax machine installed, call me. I’ll forward a partial bibliography I’ve compiled. The company will pay for books on the subject you find locally. Don’t be shy. I want you to develop an impressive reference library for your own use. It’s your condition we’re studying. You should know more about it than anyone else."

Dan’s confidence in Dr. Jacobs clicked up a notch. He was sounding like many of his college professors as he spoke to him on the phone.

"I have a collection of works by Charles Prince. You should obtain copies of your own. He was premier pioneer in establishing an alternative lifestyle. His writings are very interesting. See what you can find. It may take some searching."

Dan found only one of the author’s books at the largest bookstore in the nearby city on Saturday, and was referred to an adult bookstore by the clerk sporting a silly grin on his face Dan learned to despise. With sufficient other material to last him all weekend, he chose to return home directly.

Needless to say, he was astounded by some of the things he read that weekend.

Two weeks of reading and regular evening phone conversations with Dr. Jacobs put Dan at ease with discussing facets of unusual sexual habits and practices when they met the following week, face to face.

"So Dan, do you know the difference between ‘drab’ and ‘drag’ yet?"

"Yes, but I don’t see a connection between that and my condition."

"Sure you do. Come on. Think hard! Afraid of discussing what you know?"

"Are you suggesting I’m fascinated by women’s apparel? What’s uncommon about that? Men should enjoy the sight of a sexily clad, healthy young woman. That doesn’t mean they want to dress up like one. If anything, they want to undress them."

"Ah! The question is whether the body of a woman beguiles them, or how it is presented. The best way to find out is to test reactions to a man, similarly clad."

"Now, where we will find a willing volunteer, Phil? I’m not going to the city to pick up some sleazy transvestite working a street corner wearing a demi-skirt. I’m not that crazy, even if you are."

"A guest is on her way here. I’ve invited a devout devotee to the practice over to participate in today’s discussion. I think you’re ready to investigate the issue."

"Here? A drag queen is coming to my house? What will my neighbors say? Stop him! I wish you’d consult with me before doing something stupid. I told you about the locals. They think I’m loony already. They don’t need help to convince them about my having loose screws! That’s it! This is getting out of hand, Phil!"

"Too late to cancel. Someone’s knocking. You’d better go see who it is."

"Not me! No way! Send him away! It was your idea. You answer the door and get rid of him! I’ll be the laughing stock of town by nightfall. This isn’t a joke. I live in a small town with few secrets! Don’t make life here more difficult than it already is!"

"Sorry, Dan. It’s your house. Answer the door. Maybe it’s someone else."

Dan yanked the door open to find a very nice looking young lady patiently waiting outside the front porch. He turned and spoke with a determined, but lower voice. "You’re right. It is someone else. Now, get a hold of the person you hired to come here and cancel the meeting. I don’t care how you do it, just cancel it!"

He tried to act calm when he asked the girl what she wanted, thinking she was a door-to-door salesperson he could shoo away before Dr. Jacobs’ guest arrived.

"Is Dr. Jacobs here?" Dan fainted in his tracks. He wasn’t prepared for the shock.

When he came to, they were seated across from him as he lay on the couch with a cold, makeshift compress of moistened paper towels on his forehead. "What happened? Oh, never mind." His vision cleared and found the two sitting calmly with that smirk he grew to hate plastered on their faces. "You’re a --- a ---guy?"

"Some say so. Most think otherwise. A few that know me think I’m a little of each. Whatever people think about what they see is of little concern to me, because it doesn’t change how I feel about myself. Is that what you wanted to know?"

"No. I want to know how fast you can reach the door. The faster you leave, the happier I’ll be. If my neighbors see you, I’ll be knee deep in doo-doo."

"I’m sorry if my presence offends you, Mr. Willis. Dr. Jacobs cautioned me that it might. Before I leave, let me explain something. For years I tried hard to look and act masculine. Like you, I was born with a glandular problem. You are fortunate. Your problem doesn’t show. My outward feminine characteristics were too hard to disguise. I got beat up countless times because the other guys in my school thought I was a faggot. I’m not, you see. I’m strictly heterosexual. If you doubt it, try something funny. Over the years, I had to learn martial arts to defend myself. To avoid my inner conflict and more confrontations with idiots, I prefer to wear women’s clothes in public. At home alone with my loving wife I wear the type of clothes you have on."

"Sure, sure. You have a wife at home that compares hairstyles and fashions with you. That will be the day. What woman wants her man to look the way you do?"

"I brought a portfolio of pictures of us together, if you’d care to see them."

"Don’t bother. I’ve seen enough ribald pictures and profiles of drag queens during the past week to last me a lifetime. Is your wife a man that does drag, too?"

"No, and no one thinks so. She does wear the men’s clothes when works in the garden, but her fanny and bust line stick out a lot, so I doubt that many people assume that she’s a man, no matter what she chooses to wear. She can’t help looking feminine, any more than I can.

Too bad a nice, mature guy like you is so sensitive about his frail masculinity he can’t set aside preconceived notions about appearances. I prefer to be thought of as a woman when dress up in public. I’d appreciate it if you tried to as well."

"I’d rather not think about it at all. It’s too confusing. Just leave, ma’am. Okay?" Dan closed his eyes, regretting the feminine reference he just made. "Okay. I’ll concede. You look like any normal girl in town. Is that what you wanted to hear? Your little secret is quite safe with me. I promise never to tell a soul."

"Oh, how you feel, since you know about me isn’t important. Proving that a man can look as beautiful as a woman is the reason I came. Dr. Jacobs asked me to demonstrate that you needn’t be afraid to a man dressed this way."

"Okay. I get the message. I’m cured. You can leave. Both of you can get out of my life, and stay out." Dan got up to physically escort them from his home, but got a glimpse of the girl’s cleavage when he got closer. "How --- how do you do that? They look so real!"

"They are real. That’s my glandular problem. If I try to look more masculine, here they are, ready to betray me. What would you do if you had my problem?"

"Get them removed is what I’d do!"

"That’s what I thought too, Mr. Willis. I took heavy doses of testosterone to make them disappear chemically. Do you think I want to look like a girl? Not a chance. After they persistently refused to diminish, I conceded and chose an alternate route. You see, when I’m dressed up as a male, all my behavior patterns are still ‘swishy’. I had a harder time defending my lack of masculinity than conceding my apparent femininity. This way, most men that see me treat me with due courtesy, instead of the indignant disgust when I tried to act more masculine."

"I’m Sorry, but feel that disgust is foremost in my mind at this very moment. Guys should look like guys and all girls should look like girls. End of story."

"I believe otherwise. When you first answered the door, you could have slammed it in my face, if it bothered you so much. You were expecting me, weren’t you?"

"I was expecting to see a hairy guy wearing a dress like the ones in television commercials, using a baritone voice for all my neighbors to hear. You do carry yourself off nicely. I must admit that. However it doesn’t change the bold reality."

Dr. Jacobs recognized a key response phrase and intervened, asking his guest to excuse herself and wait out on the front porch while he spoke to Dan in private to respond to Dan’s last comment.

She asked to use the powder room, instead, and left the two men glaring at one another. She knew what Dr. Jacobs was going to talk about next, anyway. She was familiar with the orientation procedure, from previous similar interviews.

"Reality, Dan? Perceived reality? What if I now told you that your guest has had the final surgery to change her into a complete woman? It’s possible, you know. Would that change reality? Would the proper plumbing be an indication of reality sufficient to sway your attitude? How would you possibly detect her genetic birth gender without her getting undressed? Would it be of any consequence? How much would it matter, if she had let a doctor surgically remove her manhood?

Keep in mind that’s she is a heterosexual, married transvestite who has a genetic female wife with the same physical needs other women have. How would they express their love for one another or procreate? Is her outward appearance that important an issue? I’m inclined to think her ability to perform sexually like other males would be more important to her wife than her appearance could ever be.

Consider this. If you stopped taking your daily medication, would the appropriate orifice on someone like her make you want to seduce her? Think carefully, Dan. She’s a pretty lady. Were any of the buxom girls that you leered at and coveted in the magazines you once used to your enhance masturbation transvestites?

Does knowing about the true gender of a person make any difference at all if the person looks adorable to someone using the image solely for inspiration?"

"Whether it should or not, I can’t say, but knowing a guy that I see looks like too much like a girl, instantly turns me off like a light switch. "

"Bingo! Now we’re getting somewhere. For years, your doctor chose a traditional path, subduing your natural body responses to external stimuli by suppressing it to what is referred to as ‘normal’ levels, because he was confident your problem was glandular and not psychological. Whereas, I’m of the opinion that it is both. That doesn’t mean you are a mental case, Dan. It suggests that you experience heightened glandular response to normal stimuli and it also affects your mental state, as well. She’s very attractive, don’t you think?"

"Yes, but I know she’s a guy! That makes a big difference!"

"Precisely! I watched your reactions very carefully. You didn’t seem to show any evidence of physical excitement once you understood that our guest is a male. If you know what you see is only an illusion, you do not get aroused. Am I right?"

"You can say that again. You can take it ‘straight’ to the bank. I’m not into men in any shape or form, period. Nor do I wish to change my perspective. Having her in the house give me a chill. I wish you’d wrap up the interview with her and dismiss her with haste. Let it go, Phil. I mean it."

"I see a strong positive indicator here, Dan. Comprehension is the factor we can use to nullify unwanted sensory responses that plagued you since you were a youngster. I must caution you, Dan. You alone, developing careful, methodical concentration, can overcome the difficulties you have relating with the opposite sex without creating excessive motivation toward getting physically involved in carnal pleasure with others or even by yourself, for that matter."

"You sound like my dad, Phil. He thought it was all in my head too, but refused to let the doctor treat me with the kind of drugs that would inhibit mental processes. Of course, he was afraid everyone in town would think I was a raving lunatic and he was responsible genetically. I must admit it though. I thought my father was responsible too, because he drank so heavily. He didn’t care that my doctor was being very patient with me, and explained my symptoms in language that I could understand when I was a kid. All he cared about was a bad public opinion of him.

That’s why I insist my doctor is kept advised of everything we try in conjunction with my job. If word got out, about how I was constantly horny back when I was younger, and how I resorted to relieve my pent-up passions, you know what the people who were aware of the way I acted would call me."

"Yes. They’d call you a jag-off. Right? Don’t answer. I know it’s a derogatory term that many people use in shotgun fashion to ridicule others. Masturbation is a way to resolve a normal body process. At one time, the practice was thought do be an evil act to be publicly derided. In this day and age, no one with half a brain thinks about it in that way. It’s still a very personal matter, done in privacy, but everyone has done it at one time or another, and some become very addicted to it, if other forms of sexual expression are not readily available."

"Yeah. It’s the one form of sexual abuse that’s not a crime, or we’d all be in jail."

"Think about it, Dan. Your reaction to our guest’s predicament can be useful to investigate different ways to understand your overactive response mechanisms to eliminate the need for it chemically. I don’t suppose your doctor informed you that continual suppression can lead to sexual dysfunction."

"Oh, he did, but I don’t think that’s likely. I still wake up aroused every morning. It goes away as soon as I take a leak, first thing."

"That kind of erection has nothing to do with your problem. Frankly, I’m surprised that you haven’t experienced breast development from taking Premarin as long as you have. A lot of men do. You dosage must be miniscule."

"It is. My doctor warned me not to double up the dose if I forget to take it. He said I wouldn’t like the changes that might occur if I did it repeatedly. My impression when I saw your guest’s cleavage was that she uses female hormones a lot."

"Speaking of her, I think it’s time to invite her into our conversation, Dan. It’s not very polite to ignore her so long." Dr. Jacobs tapped on the closed bathroom door and invited the lady back to the parlor. Dan’s initial animosity toward her was now a sense of kindred compassion. He apologized for the way he had behaved upon meeting her and asked some questions about her teen years looking like a girl, knowing that her condition was unwanted. They talked quietly and they became friendly, after she answered all of Dan’s questions, Dr. Jacobs put some to her as well, leading the discussion toward intimate behavior before she got married. She answered candidly, that she had been unsure of her sexual priorities, so she tried sex with both men and women before she decided her personal inclinations were firmly, heterosexual.

She qualified her statement by saying that she truly enjoys being treated like a woman by men now except for intimate, physical contact. She admitted that sex with men wasn’t entirely repulsive; it simply wasn’t what she wanted in life.

Dan was reluctant to comment, so Dr. Jacobs asked her to expound on some of her past experiences. "You experimented at having sex with other men. Please understand. I’m not questioning your moral standards in any way, but I’m sure Dan is too well mannered to ask you this. Was the sex with men as gratifying to you as the sex you had with women was?"

"Yes and no. I was very selective, and don’t have a great deal of experience with men. I achieved orgasms with men, if that’s what you mean, but it isn’t the same as engaging in sex with a woman. Whenever I was with a man, it was pure lusty gratification, without the slow build up of emotion that accompanies heterosexual sex. If you want to know what I enjoyed the most with other men, I would have to admit it was passive anal sex with a transvestite like myself."

"That’s surprising. Would you mind elaborating?" Dr. Jacobs inquired.

"Well, for one thing, I was very leery about how masculine looking partners that I found attractive might act toward me after discovering I’m a male by birth. Some men, I’ve been told, don’t care about a guy that masquerades as a girl, because they like forced oral sex genetic girls think is too humiliating, and don’t hesitate forcing a transvestite. They think all transvestites are into providing oral sex.

I wasn’t into that. Since, I looked like a demure woman, I expected men to treat me like one, with tenderness, and not punch me around like some sex slave they have a right to inflict pain on. I once met another girl like myself who was beaten up for refusing to give deep throat. She was beaten so badly she had to be taken to a hospital to have her jaw wired. I was scared to death every time I met a nice looking guy that wanted me to spend the night with him in bed. Some men act belligerently and think a faux girl should provide more than just sexual relief.

I had only one close call. I was lucky enough to extract myself from the situation before anything serious happened. Some men are assholes if you’re not careful. I would usually tell a friend by calling on my cell phone beforehand on the way to the place where I would be intimate with the man. I’d explain where I was going and how soon I could be expected home, so the guy I was dating knew he had to treat me nice, since someone knew where I was if he tried to be brutal to me."

Dr. Jacobs nodded and turned to Dan. "How do you think you would react, if you suddenly discovered what you thought was a girl was really a guy in disguise?"

"I’ve never given the notion any thought, Phil. I suppose the initial shock might scare the daylights out of me, but not make me belligerent. Finding myself in a motel room with another guy would freak me out, but to beat a hasty retreat, not beat up the fake woman there with me. In any event, I don’t believe I’d be in the mood for sex, for sure. With the meds I’m on, real girls don’t make me feel horny as they once did. It takes a flashy girl out for a grand time to rile me up, now."

"Yes, the meds indicated in the report I received from your doctor should repress your ardor significantly, Dan. It’s a shame, though. With careful training, I’m sure we can dispense with the drugs you’re using now. Let’s check a bit further, first, shall we?" He turned back to his guest.

"Would you describe the very first sexual encounter you remember for us?"

"My first with a man?"

"No, I mean your very first sexual encounter with another person, regardless of the gender. What was the most significant detail of the experience?"

"That one’s easy. I was playing with the girl who lived next to us. I was eleven or maybe twelve, at the time and she was about fifteen or so. We were playing ‘house’ in her basement, and she was playing the role of the mommy. She had me playing the part of her little baby girl, because she said I was way too small and too cute to be the daddy. I followed her lead, because I looked up to her and she made me very good when she rocked me in her arms, like a baby on her lap.

Well, at one point, she told me that I needed my diaper checked. So, she put her hand up one leg of the pair of shorts I was wearing. I think that was the very first time I got an erection. From that day on, I went over to her house to play as often as I could and wanted to play the part of her baby again, so she could check my diaper. It wasn’t really a true sexual encounter, but the intense feelings when she gently fondled my dingus are still deeply engraved on my memory cells."

Dr. Jacobs turned to Dan. "How about you, Dan. What was the first time for you?"

"I already told you about it. I’m sure my doctor also advised you that I was caught in the act by my mom, using her soiled panties to get off."

"How old were you?"

"I’m not really sure. I was probably about thirteen at the time. She was in a fit of rage, but cooled down after my dad laughed it off and called me a chip off the old block. She insisted I was perverted and punished me severely because my firm erection didn’t go away once she discovered I was masturbating in the upstairs bathroom, rummaging through the hamper for her soiled unmentionables. Mom even threatened to have me psychoanalyzed because the beating she gave me exacerbated my arousal, screaming that only perverts find punishment exciting.

She took me directly to the doctor’s office. Our doctor tried to tell her most young boys begin to explore at my age. She insisted that I was far too zealous and had no business playing around with her underthings. She was more upset because she felt I had an Oedipus complex, and she did nothing to warrant it. When I tried to make infantile excuses, she insisted the doctor curtail my emerging libido.

To make matters worse, he prescribed placebos and advised her to keep her eye on me. I wasn’t aware of it, but she did just that. There was no place to go for a moment’s peace. Mom would check out my crotch for a sign of arousal without a concern about where we were or who might see. Whenever she did that, it would rise of its own accord, and she’d slap me, not caring if it was intentional or not.

Every morning when she’d wake me and saw that I was in a state of arousal, she went ballistic. Her violent reactions made me hypersensitive. She would slap me and tell me I was terrible. Her reactions only made matters worse, and I began to think that she was right about my overactive chromosomes and I was a pervert, or destined to become one when I matured. When my doctor interviewed me afterwards, I told him in all honesty I was wanking regularly, even with his drugs.

To placate mom’s threat to have me institutionalized, my doctor prescribed some spirolactone in a very low dose. I stopped having daily erections upon rising each morning, but continued to play around in private with her underwear, because I didn’t want her to find me sporting a hard-on during the daytime, after school.

Seeing girls in school who were beginning to show signs of development had its effect, and I was ashamed of getting aroused by seeing their cute little nubbins sprouting on their chests. My sole intent was to alleviate my erections. I got away with it, or so I thought. I didn’t know mom went into the bathroom each time, after I wanked off. I also didn’t know guys exude an odor that women can instinctively recognize from their sexual excitement. She knew what I had been doing, and consequently advised my doctor the dosage he had prescribed was too low. My doctor conceded once more, and as I matured I was gradually put on a spiraling cycle of stronger drugs because my condition seemed to get worse and worse.

I didn’t know that mom had a long talk with my teachers until it was too late. The women, alerted to my malady, reported my preoccupation with spying on girls in my class with lewd leg movements I made under my desk that I didn’t associate as being related. So, back to the doctor we went. He suggested using Valium to lower my interest in sex. She agreed. I was so spaced out that my good grades began to decline. My dad was livid when he found out. He blamed my mom, she blamed him, and I was soon treated like a lecher by most of my school’s faculty, as well as my parents. By then, I was convinced my problem wasn’t ever going to go away and I begged my doctor to do something about it, anything he could, so I wouldn’t always think dirty thoughts and getting erections. He did.

Over the following years, my doctor carefully varied the dosage so I was asexual, and compromised with mom and dad on using Valium, so we all lived in relative harmony until I finished high school. My parents permitted me to attend a college out of town under one condition: I had to swear by all that I held dear that I would follow my prescription regimen to the letter. If they ever had suspicions that I was tampering with a girl’s morals, I’d be dead meat. I think they were somewhat glad to be rid of the constant reminder that their dear son was a pervert.

The kettle was still brewing, but on a low heat that came to a rapid boil when my dad disappeared with my tuition money for grad school. At that point, poor mom went off the deep end and blamed my dad, the good Lord above, and also me for cursing her with a child of the devil. She wished to forget that she bore a son that grew up to be a deviant sex pervert. Fear for her reputation kept mom from telling others about my condition. She regretted the damage done to her reputation from alerting my teachers. Word spread around the schools in town that my condition was in full remission, thanks the efforts of my doctor. He claimed I was ‘normal’.

I was convinced mom was right, as I continued to do what horny men do when in private with greater frequency, using aftershave and cologne to hide any telltale scent. I felt it was the only way to prevent my taking improper advantage of girls that I dated and reinforce the image of normalcy my doctor successfully created. If the truth were known, few of the girls let me do more than kiss them. I wasn’t eager to venture further, because I was fearful of what might happen if one said that I did." Dan then took a deep breath, hoping his listeners were satisfied.

Phil took a deep breath, too. "Thanks, Dan. It must have taken a lot of courage to reveal all that. It sounds to me as if the grain of truth has grown into a mountain of silage. I sincerely doubt if your sexual desire is terribly abnormal. That’s not important, because you resigned yourself to follow the course of action set up for you, and successfully survived without committing any felony crimes of sexual deviance, unless you are keeping that from us at this point. I won’t pry into that, because I don’t think it is germane to the issue we’re discussing."

"If you are asking if I slept with a woman, the answer is yes I have, in the past ten years. It may not seem possible, but in spite of my prescriptions, I’m still excited by seeing a lovely girl. Think of how I’d react toward one without my meds. I can still get off, even if it does take me longer. Girls I’ve been to bed with appreciate my slow rate of arousal. Without the meds, I’d probably be a flash in the pan, and they’d think a lot less of me. As things stand, it’s not a problem."

Their guest quipped. "Considering the moral attitudes of the times, you might be a royal stud muffin, if you were to discontinue using drugs, altogether. I might be inclined to avail myself, if you ever decide to change your mind about staying on the prescriptions. I know my wife would. I use feminine hormones to make my skin softer, so I encounter the opposite problem, Dan. Sometimes my wife is very disappointed with my performance. I use a prosthetic whenever that happens. It isn’t the same for her, but I have don’t have much choice.

If I approach the subject in the proper way, I’m sure she’d like to meet a discreet man who can play the surrogate for me. I’d always have to be present, mind you. She wouldn’t think of violating our mutual code of conduct."

Dr. Jacobs waved his hand. "No, that’s not a good idea. Dan has to realize that he associates the image of femininity with his getting aroused. Today’s exercise proved his perception of women as sexually exciting is normal. What we should concentrate on doing is to gradually modifying his meds to measure his sexual response change or to use a variety of different stimuli. What do you say, Dan?"

"From what happened today and the examples I saw in books I’ve been reading; seeing transvestites doesn’t get me aroused. What are you proposing?"

"Dan. You were always aware the individuals depicted in the books and literature I sent you weren’t really genetic women. What do you think would be the reaction if you didn’t know a woman you see isn’t really what she seems to be? The mere sight of a lush body may be what excites you most. It means that you’ll react to the form you see, the visual reference, not the subtle, telltale scent a true woman gives off when attracting a male, which is olfactory. Your perception is what we should explore. Yes, that’s what we want to explore, your perception.

Suppose an apparent, but faux girl uses a feminine musk to enhance her image. How would you react? I’m sure you don’t know, nor do I. That is what I’m after. It behooves us to use your overactive response mechanisms to delve further into examining the sensitivity of you inherent trigger abnormality."

"I’m not going to stop taking my prescriptions without consulting with my doctor."

"I see." I did it again. I tried to tell him ‘no’, yet he seemed to think I meant ‘yes’ if my doctor gave him the green light. He smiled. "Then, we’ll have call up your doctor and ask him for his views on the matter. Won’t we, Dan?"

"Right now?"

"No. We’ve accomplished a lot in one week. I’ll discuss it with him in technical terms, first thing next week. He’ll understand better if I explain the purpose of the dosage adjustment I want to propose. You won’t have to leave home, if you’re concerned about having a reaction to changing your meds. I won’t propose any changes until I can be on hand to observe your responses, first hand. You don’t have to worry. No one will know, except the three of us.

But, before we dismiss our beautiful guest Dan, I’d like her to share with us how she became so adept at portraying womanhood. We can’t assume that she grew up with the same experiences average young girls have learning about how to use cosmetics and acquiring a complete wardrobe." The two men’s attention turned to the unnamed guest.

"It was easy. I used the barrage of fashion catalogs that came in the mail, at first, then the Internet, once I got my own computer for schoolwork. Later, I found the local chapter of a neat society dedicated to people like me and began to go to the monthly meetings they held. It was a blessed relief to know I wasn’t the only guy in the world who yearned to embrace womanhood in the same way. It changed my entire life. I was thrilled. I looked forward to attending the monthly soirées."

Dr. Jacobs prodded her. "Why is that?"

"I wasn’t alone any more. I had people to share my secret with."

"Were all the members of the organization gender challenged?"

"Oh, no. Some people were just inquisitive observers. Some were gay men in search of a ‘presentable’ gay man that could enable them to live as gays without flaunting it publicly. Having a beautiful looking partner to love and cherish without being discriminated against is a great way to survive in a straight world. That’s where I found safe men to date when I was unsure about my sexual orientation. The men were paranoid about being discovered by people they knew, so they behaved when dating a transvestite. They didn’t want to be exposed to ridicule any more than their dates. They were keen judges of the girls’ ability to ‘pass’.

Also, there’s a straight faction of the membership that only dress because they love to wear feminine finery. Otherwise, they’re loyal hetero husbands that have a silly penchant to imitate women. Some wives come to the meetings with them. That’s where I proposed marriage to my darling wife. When we first began to date, my girlish behavior made her feel more at ease. You see, she fell victim to a brutal rapist and was afraid to date hirsute guys afterwards. My composure is what she found most attractive about me. She fell in love with me as I am.

I thought I died and went to heaven and soon told her all about my condition and why I had to hide behind a feminine guise. She was ecstatic, because I was just as hetero as she was. She begged me to tell her more. She attended meetings to learn more about the subject, and embraced my explanation with enthusiasm.

It didn’t take her long to take full charge of my wardrobe and beauty care. She corrected all my little faults and helped me to become a proficient crossdresser. We even wore matching gowns to a private ceremony held for the club members only. We’ve been happily married, ever since." She blushed and took a breath.

Dr. Jacobs used her pause to continue his directing her responses. "Are you able to function in public in the role of a male, as well, if you want? It seems you would have a hard time hiding your totally feminine characteristics. It must be trying for you to live as a woman all the time."

She then grinned from ear to ear. "I think I finally got the hang of getting by either way with my wife’s help. I go to work in ‘drab’ every day. No one knows. She has four brothers. She taught me how to cover my feminine side well, too. One of her four brothers belongs to the chapter. He introduced me to my wife, but I wasn’t aware he was involved with the society and a fellow member at the time."

"He works in our office building, Dan. Leastwise two we still do. You did until you left your job there last week."

"What? You know me from where I worked?"

"Yes, but, so far, you don’t recognize the other ‘me’ so I’d rather you don’t try to figure out who I am in that role. You might be careless and let the cat out of the bag. It could cause a lot of grief for both of us. Let’s not speculate about that, if you don’t mind, leastwise for now. I knew you by name, so I accepted Dr. Jacobs’ request to drop over and offer him a helpful hand, a leg, a hank of hair and a fact or two about being gender dysphoric to be of help.

I was also in the crowd at the Golden Hammer the night you were shot down in cold blood by that snooty, busty blonde. You’re the fifth notch in her whip handle that I know of. She makes a point of wagging her lush tail to get the guys all hot and bothered, then uses her knife-sharp tongue like a whip and lashes out."

"Forget about her. I can’t place you. Should I recognize you?"

"I won’t say, and I hope Dr. Jacobs honors my wish to keep it a mystery. If you really want to find out more about why we live two lives, come out to a chapter meeting. You’ll see a lot of people there that cover a broad spectrum: tranny chasers, pre and post-op transsexuals, a few of the wives, and lovers of them all and a lot of men that simply want to look around and marvel at the skill of some dressers.

You’ll learn that some members look like guys, but aren’t. Other guys can’t look authentic, no matter how hard they try. No one makes fun of them. About the only thing you won’t see there are drag queens, you know: feminine parodies."

"Why not?"

They make a mockery of what most of the membership takes very seriously. They know they belong in gay bars performing, not at our meetings. Still a few come out on occasion, because they don’t know better."

"Where does your club meet?" Dr. Jacobs sat back and let Dan ask her, to allow him to forget about the disgust he exhibited earlier. He seemed at ease him as she responded to all his questions, and he was more than mildly inquisitive, for some reason. Dr. Jacobs hoped a new spark was kindling in Dan and would to grow to a roaring fire. As long as Dan wasn’t terse, or belligerent, he let him ask anything he wanted.

"Our regular monthly business meetings are held at the Star Ballroom, up on the north side, every second Tuesday each month. We have guest speakers to tell us about hair and wig styling and selection. Cosmetologists and gynecologists do presentations for the newer members regularly to explain the pitfalls of hormone therapy. Our money is green, so we have a lot of people that want to take some of it away from us. You’d be surprised. You should come out to a meeting to see if you can detect which are real girls and which are wannabes like me."

"Me? I, uh, why I ---. What for?"

"Come on, Dan. You got the bug. I can tell. Now that I mentioned guys come out to check out the ‘lookers’, you’ve got an excuse to give it a try. I think you’ll find we are a great group of wonderful people. We just have a weird hobby, that’s all."

"Yeah, I guess you do."

"I think I’d better go soon, Dr. Jacobs. Dan’s eyes are trying to peel away my lip gloss, mascara, and foundation to see who lives underneath it all."

"It could be that he’s enchanted by your beauty, but I agree. He’s a bright fellow. We don’t want him to expose you. Thanks for lending me a hand. I don’t know if I could have broached the subject as effectively without your help."

She stood, shook Dan’s hand one last time, and let Dr. Jacobs give her a phony kiss on the cheek that wouldn’t mess her makeup. They escorted her to the door as if she was the lady she appeared to be and watched her stroll down the walk to her car. The two men stood in the doorway silently, long after she drove away.

 

++++

 

Two weeks later on the phone.

"My seminar run is over, Dan. I can devote the whole upcoming week to working with you. How’s the libido behaving, now that you’re weaning off the meds?"

"I still have two weeks to go before I’m off them completely. I have to tell you. I’m not doing too well with tapering off. My stomach revolted and I get a terrible urge to do what I used to do all the time. I think your strategy sucks. Even fake broads are starting to look good to me. I want to play it safe and go back on the meds. Let’s call Dr. Parker to ease me back on the Prednizone if nothing else."

"We covered that ground last week, Dan. Full immersion. Remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. I remember. You failed to mention my stomach would feel as if I got it kicked in. I get cold sweats at night, too. This morning’s woodie looked like the flagpole in the center of town. Took over a half hour before it went away after the morning whiz. I don’t know why I let you talk me into doing it. If I don’t start to do something to ease the tension soon, I think I’ll explode. It’s worse now than ever. I promised to keep my hands off of it, but this is utter nonsense. What’s the big deal? What difference will it make if I whack off once or twice or not?"

"Easy, tiger. Our primary objective is to determine if your natural interest, without the chemical influence, is from a visual or olfactory stimulation. What’s two weeks more? If we can’t get a fix on it by then, we’ll try other techniques."

"What’s next? Want to stick pins in me, to see if hot air rushes out? Give me a break, Phil. I haven’t been this horny in over twelve years. It’s easy for you to sit by in your private office and tell me to take it easy. You’re not the one suffering from a case of blue balls. If you were, I’ll bet you’d be cuffing your carrot six times a day like a twelve year old with his first playboy calendar.

"Now, take it easy, Dan."

"You’re repeating yourself, Phil. That’s a sign of old age approaching. I had a bit of psych back in college, too. Maybe you should let a younger member of your staff conduct this study. He’d understand my dire predicament. ---- Doc? ---- Phil? ---- Say something, damn it!"

"Enough, already. Go ahead! Pull your pud, sport. Call me after you can’t get it up anymore. That’s the thanks I get for trying to help!" The line went dead.

"F--- you!" Dan screamed into the silent receiver. He wanted to throw something.

He picked up a reference book in rage and was about to fling it across the room into the cold, ash-laden fireplace, but knew he’d only have to clean out the mess he’d make afterwards. Instead he glanced at the book’s cover realizing he didn’t exaggerate when he told Dr. Jacobs faux girls were beginning to look very good to him. The one on the coverlet was particularly appealing. She was totally nude, but had a towel held up over where her breasts should be.

Dan knew better, that it was only an intentional illusion to emphasize the power of effective lighting and airbrushing. Either that or the book expounded on what could be achieved by inducing confusion to a person’s body chemistry. He read so many books lately he forgot which book contained what information.

"What the hell." He sat down with the book into his lap, thumbing through it, with nothing more in mind than checking out the pictures in it to refresh his memory. He was getting a hard-on. The pictures of guys in various stages of transition into females were making his hormones rage uncontrollably.

He set the book down and started to sweat. He closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking about the book. "It isn’t true. I can’t be happening. NO! That mother! He knew! That’s why so many of the books he suggested were about guys that did drag. He cursed under his breath, out loud, and at the top of his voice. He tried to erase the visions that popped into his head, but they wouldn’t go away. A steady parade of girls with withering weenies shook their tails at him as they crossed the visages of his mind. "This isn’t happening! Wasn’t my other problem enough? "

He picked up the phone. "Phil. It’s Dan again. How soon can you get here? I’m cracking up. No kidding. I need to talk to you."

 

++++

 

Dr. Jacobs put Dan to bed later that evening after Dan drank the iced tea, which contained a powdered ‘benny’ to knock him out. Then, when he was quite sure Dan was fast asleep, he took off his clothes, checked the look of his teddy in the full-length mirror on the door, and crawled into bed, next to Dan to add his own warmth to Dan’s body. He didn’t fall asleep. He lay quietly listening to the erratic breathing that usually meant the sleeper is restless. Phil wondered what kind of weird dreams Dan was having. He ran over the plans he had for Dan in his head.

In the morning, he doffed his teddy, took a long hot shower in the bathroom on the first floor and put his fancy outfit safely away inside his luggage. "In due time, Dan." He mumbled to himself. "Maybe I’ll figure out a way to let you introduce me to the fabulous thrills of wearing silk and satin. Once you try it, you’ll never stop." He checked his watch. Dan should remain asleep for at least two more hours.

His first overnight visit the week before was short, but Dan was thorough. Every need was provided. Every whim addressed. Dan was a perfect host. The aging wooden house creaked a bit from the wind, but was otherwise a worthy structure.

Phil rummaged through the freezer and fridge, looking for packaged waffles, his one Saturday morning vice. He wasn’t due to arrive until Monday, but didn’t have any pressing matters to resolve, so he agreed to move up his schedule. That was a gas. He thought he’d have a hard time keeping to the original timetable.

Dan was acting so hot to trot already, things may work out sooner than expected. Perhaps Dan would shock Phil and announce that he planned to attend the next transvestite club meeting after all. All Phil Jacobs had to do was to be patient and let Dan set his own pace. The horny stud was just what he hoped to meet up with someday. Using the right stimuli and judicious care, Dan would make all the right decisions on his own, without needing much encouragement. Time would tell.

The smell of the waffles baking roused Dan from the deep sleep much later in the day. He stumbled down the stairs into the kitchen and found Phil there washing the dishes that were piled up during the week. It took a long time for Dan to think of what to say.

"Ahem."

"I heard you using the bathroom upstairs, Dan. I think the whole town did. Do you always make so much noise when you gargle?"

"I was clearing my pipes."

"Which ones? The ones inside your cock or the ones leading to your lungs?"

"Funny man." He was measuring his words. "Phil, you’re a guest in my humble home. You don’t have to do any chores. I was going to get to those dishes this afternoon, as soon as I feel up to it. Did you slip me a ‘Mickey Finn’ last night?"

"I did. You were having a rough time, Dan. What good is having a guset around, if he won’t provide the proper care? As long as it doesn’t become habitual, pills to help you sleep are useful. You’ve been on a steady diet of taking other pills for a long time. Getting back off of them can be rough on you. I allowed you to suffer for a while to test your stamina. You’ll survive. Every day from now on will get a little easier. Before you know it, you’ll forget all about the detox."

"Detox? Me? I’m no druggie! My doctor insisted the drugs he prescribed weren’t habit forming. He’s no quack. He wouldn’t prescribe addictive drugs. He told me there was no danger of addiction involved. Who’s kidding who around here?"

"Where’s the pill book I sent to you, Dan. Why do you think I sent it? Go see for yourself. Look up Prednizone. See what the book says. Listen. Every drug on the market can be a great boon to mankind when it’s used properly. Your fine doctor used the right drugs to treat your condition chemically. You want a chemical cure, you see a physician for a prescription to cure what ails you.

That doesn’t mean it’s the only cure available out there. It’s a cure that he knows works, and he knows how well it will work. Even then, a good doctor, like yours, follows up to see how well an individual responds. I’m not faulting him. He did his job properly. All I’m suggesting is: for you to investigate for yourself. Satisfy your curiosity. Never take anything anyone tells you for granted. Ask questions. Never say yes or no. Try to decide every question by listing all the possible alternatives, and choose the one, guided by professionals, that you think is best for you. That advice is from one of the advanced seminars we offer."

"Right now? --- I feel like crap. I’ll check it out later."

"You’ll feel worse later. Do it now."

"Okay, okay." Dan left and returned a minute later with his faced buried in the pill book. He read it, mumbling a bit, while Phil continued to wash dishes.

"It says here ---. Are you paying attention? Stop washing those dishes, Phil. I told you I’d attend to them later. Do you want me to read this to you, or not?"

"I know it by heart, backwards and forwards. I could read it to you from memory. That’s not the point. I want you to read it, think it over, and get into the habit of checking things out for yourself with as much background and resource as you can. Important things, like which drugs you should ingest, not which race horse is the fastest, or which baseball team will score the most runs today. That’s chicken shit. Pay attention to the important things that affect the outcome your life.

I’m sorry, Dan. I lecture. That’s how I make my living. It’s a bad habit I have, too. I take for granted others feel the same way I do about knowledge. I don’t mean to talk down to you. I’m sorry I sound that way. Forget about the pill book and have your breakfast, while it’s still warm. Washing these dishes is like therapy for me. I’ll be finished in a minute and we can sit down and talk."

Dan had some juice and a few bites of a syrup-coated waffle. "Hey, not bad for a city boy. Where’d you learn how to make waffles?"

"From the back of the box the mix came in. I can remember how to mix simple raw ingredients they use for instant pancakes in my sleep. What do you think they teach in basic organic chemistry? How to make atom bombs? That comes much later, after you learn about nuclear physics. Never mind. I’m rambling.

Washing dishes in this complex formulated anti-bacterial detergent instead of mild soap reminds me of squashing microbes with high doses of radiation. Its more costly but the bacteria dies just as dead." Then in melancholic melody Phil sang: "And they all go down the drain just the same."

"Is there some point to what you’re telling me about washing dishes, Phil?"

"Nope, none at all. Just flappin’ my gums. I haven’t washed a pile of dishes in a long time, Dan. It feels good. Makes me feel I’m human and not some piece of machinery you wind up and set down on the table to make prearranged noises.

Know what I mean?"

"Haven’t the foggiest notion. You sound spaced out."

"I am. Not from drugs, though. It’s from being in this ancient drafty house with its noises from the wind seeping through the crevices. I believe I slept very well last night. Best rest I’d had in ages. No pressure cooker boiling, no schedule to keep. I owe you. This is a terrific respite. I think I’ll shut down my big townhouse and move in here for a while. Want a paying roomer, Dan? How much money would you charge per week? Really. I’ll pay you whatever you ask."

"I think you need a staff member to come out and ask you a bunch of questions. Are you sure you’re feeling okay Phil? "

"Never felt better. There." He wiped his hands in a dishtowel he found in a drawer before he started and looked at Dan with a wide grin on his face. "Let’s get back to work. What was I telling you about always choosing options from a position of examined alternatives to assure the optimum outcome? Seems I lost my place"

"I forgot. I don’t remember you saying that. This doesn’t sound right. What’s up?"

"Oh. Yes. I know now. Damn. It’s a strange thing, Dan. I can see how you can be lulled into a slow pace living here. It’s so quiet. Peaceful. What a great landscape you have. I’d put an office in and let people enjoy the view of the countryside as I interview them. Never mind. An office here would spoil everything you have. No. That would be the worse thing to do. Forget it. Back to the subject at hand."

They talked over endless cups of coffee about nothing in particular, just life in general. In the afternoon, they took a walk in the meadow and Dan showed Phil the perimeter of his land holdings. Phil carefully spoke of the tranquility so Dan’s affliction never came to mind. He was preoccupied with Phil’s changes in tone of voice and the frequently wandering topics he brought up. Dan was perplexed. Phil was avoiding his suggestions to discuss his situation for hours on end. He invited him to spend the week for help. Instead, Phil avoided the subject.

When the shadows of evening fell upon the front porch, they sat in silence as the sun slowly sank over the horizon. Finally, Phil coughed. "You see, Dan. With the proper setting, you completely forgot about the withdrawal symptoms that made you call me in dire straights last night. That’s my premise. A lot of your problem lies within your mind, not your glands. Did you mind not wanting to wank off?"

"Funny. I was worried about you, Phil. You acted so strange all day and went into a stupor for most of the afternoon."

"I was thinking. My primary purpose at the start was to distract you. Most of the withdrawals symptoms you suffered last night are psychosomatic. You imagined drug deprivation was making you become tense and aroused. What happened? Your doctor cut back on your meds, true. The residual effects of prior doses are still pumping through your blood vessels, providing you continued direct chemical relief from the affliction. Yet, you over-reacted as if you had the d.t.’s. By coming out early, I gave you respite in the form of a sedative you called a ‘Mickey Finn.’

You had a quiet, restful night and found me at the kitchen sink, completely out of context, washing your dirty dishes.

Mind you, it was wonderful therapy for me, as I indicated earlier. Simultaneously, I applied a bit of psychology on you. I distracted you from your fears with a line of malarkey about how much I enjoy this peaceful environment. Well, it isn’t a line of malarkey really because it is nice and peaceful here.

Never mind, Dan. Point is, you didn’t find it necessary to resort to masturbation, did you? No. It’s not necessary to respond. You couldn’t have. I spent the whole day observing you. You didn’t get a chance to sneak off. When you went to the bathroom, I listened. You were mumbling under your breath, nothing more."

"I was wondering if I was going to have to send for the men with the white coats with extra long sleeves for you, Phil. You had me worried, all day."

"Good. I like to know that people care about my welfare, even if their concerns for it are totally unfounded. Now Dan. Lean back in that rocker and listen to me with as much concentration you can muster so I don’t have to repeat myself.

You proved you could avoid pangs associated with a withdrawal with distraction because the symptoms are false symptoms prompted by anxiety. Likewise, you can control the anxiety in a similar fashion to a degree, even if the symptoms are caused by changes in your body chemistry. The fear is far greater than the reality of withdrawal from the type of drugs you took for maintaining a chemical balance.

What I hope to prove, beyond a doubt is: You can also control your emotions with a better physical capacity to enjoy the sexual experiences if you concentrate on the positive aspects and not worry about defects or abnormalities. Consider this.

Men with seemingly boundless capacity are admired, not scorned. Women love the guys with the staying power of a prize bull. Your dear mother wasn’t thinking of how virile her little boy would be someday. She intended well, but was thinking only of the boy, not the man you’d grow up to become. She feared that you would misuse the strength of you sexual prowess, Dan. You can’t fault her for that. She was more concerned that girls in this town would fall victim to it. If was prudent of her to subdue your condition at the time. Otherwise some winsome lass would have her father chasing you down the main aisle of a chapel with his shotgun.

There comes a time for a man to measure the gifts given him, and consider how to use them most wisely. How’d you like to see that hussy who put you down a month or so ago crawling on her knees begging to spend a night in your bed? Huh? Sound like appropriate retribution? Does it?"

Dan gulped. "I don’t want the people in the town to talk about me like I’m a freak, Phil. It isn’t a natural thing, to be horny all the time. Men are supposed to take up with one woman and settle down to raise kids, not chase them all. I don’t know what will happen when the drugs wear off. I’m worried about it."

"Think about horses. Some are destined to pull a plow, or a wagon. Others are bred for racing: they’re thoroughbreds. A quarter horse is best suited for tending to the cattle out on a range, with a rider seated on its back. None of them are freaks. They are merely best suited to very different tasks. Not one of them is able to perform all of the tasks proficiently. They had no choice at birth. Each was destined to fulfill the role nature intended. To misuse their talents would be sheer folly. You can’t put a plow horse out on a racetrack and expect him to win. Can you? You’d be laughed at if you tried.

"I’ll say. Only a fool would try."

"Then why are you so darned worried about what nature intended you to be best suited to do in life. Before the final remnants of the declining influence flowing in your bloodstream wears off, start thinking about all the various alternatives you can choose from, so you can choose wisely. The distraction will do you good."

 

"Alternatives?"

"Sure! All the alternatives, especially all the alternative lifestyles we hear about so much these days. What have you got to lose? Experiment. Check things out. If I were to be gifted with your talents, I wouldn’t hide them under any bushel like you have been doing for twelve years. I’d let the whole world know about them."

"Yeah, sure. How do I go about checking out more about the alternatives?"

"What do you need, an engraved invitation? Why do you think I invited that cute transvestite here two weeks ago? She told you what she did. She found others that were like her and blended in, instead of trying to swim against the current. If she could overcome her problems, why can’t you? If you’re a stud bull, go out to the high pasture are do some grunting for a change, instead of moping around like a spade steer in heat. God! You’ve been a chemical gelding for too long. Do I have to spell it out to you? You wasted twelve years, Dan. It’s about time you do what nature intended. You’re a thoroughbred. Get out from behind the plow!"

++++

 

A week later, they were up early in the morning, taking a walk.

"Let’s talk about some ground rules. We have to prepare you in advance to meet people with a different outlook on life. You can’t go that club meeting biased with preconceptions about them you learned in school and from idle talk with buddies when you were growing up. They have feelings, too, you know. On occasion, I’ve tried venturing into different situations to extract commentary for research. If you want my help, I’d be glad to extend it, Dan."

"Help? In what way?"

"For heaven’s sake. I’ve done it before, Dan. I’ll get all dressed up so we can find out if you get excited. We’ve gone over this ground time and again after that nice transvestite’s visit. Transvestites know they excite men by dressing up like ladies. To them it’s a natural thing to do. If it turns your crank, you’ll feel more relaxed if you’re around them. I’d ask the last one to stop by again, but we already know she’s happily married and straight. We’d be imposing on her."

"Whoa! Time out! You’re a happily confirmed bachelor, Phil. I don’t get it. Why should you turn me on? You’re not a sex object to me. You’re a doctor of what is it? Psychology and something else."

"You’re a great help. I’m trying to help you to repress deeply instilled inhibitions and you keep throwing barriers up. Forget all that. I’m a human being. We’re only doing a simple exercise on how to interrelate with certain people with a different view on sexual conduct. We’re not going to bed with one another"

"Sure. I’m the king of Siam, too. I finally figured you out, Phil. You want to dress up like a girl for me to find out if it gets me excited. You did since day one, didn’t you? Admit it. You’re a tranny, like the ones I read about in the books. No wonder you know so much about Charles Prince. He’s the queen of Siam."

Dr. Jacobs remained silent.

"Phil. Are you one, a transvestite I mean, like the girl you had come over to visit? I can see it in your eyes. That explains a lot of things, the job offer, everything. I’m not a subject of a research study. You planned to seduce me from the very start. Didn’t you? What’s this all about?"

"Dan, don’t do anything rash."

"You mean don’t bash your head in? I should, you know. I’ve been having vivid dreams of being in bed with you, while you plant kisses all over me ever since you moved in. To think: I invited you here. The wild dreams kept me from going mad from withdrawals. I’d wake up so hard; I could poke holes in the walls with this prong between my legs. All the time, you were setting me up. What’s your game plan? Are you going to try to smother me with kisses and tell me to close my eyes and forget that you are a man?

Why don’t I think it will be too hard, Phil? I’ll tell you why. Since you showed up, I’ve been dreaming about you running your fingers all up and down my hairy legs while my poker gets bigger and bigger from the way your lips trace the path your fingers took. You lulled me into trusting you on your first day here. How long will it take you? What’s next doc?"

"Okay. You’re right. Yes, I dress up in women’s clothes. I’m a transvestite. Picked up the fetish while interviewing them. It’s not hard to embrace their pretend world. The feel of my silk undies against my skin is too much to resist. Your case study isn’t a farce. However, the more we talked, the more I became infatuated with the thought of seducing you. I can’t help myself. I’m hopelessly in love with you, Dan.

There. It’s out in the open. I don’t care. It would have to come out sooner or later. Go ahead. Laugh at me. I’ve got it coming. I knew I shouldn’t have convinced you to switch jobs. I tried to resist your magnetism. Yes, I’m gay. The thought of you wasting the talents you have because of your latent fear of your exuberance in bed with women was too great of a temptation. I then thought to myself, what a travesty. I planned to convince you to consider alternatives, as I should have, as an objective analyst, but I couldn’t resist the lure of an insatiable man right in my midst, with me falling head over heels in love with him.

I’m sorry, Dan. It was terrible of me. I had no right to fall in love with you."

"I won’t laugh, Phil. My being made fun of is what started this roller coaster ride in the first place. If I wasn’t growing fonder of you and your quiet wisdom and great common sense more and more each day, I might have slugged you. As little as a week ago I would. Today, I can’t. Right now all I see is someone that wants me for what I am. It’s a first. The girls I dated in the past wanted to tie me up in their satin ribbons with a neat bow on top to haul off to the alter. That’s not for me. I’ve known that all along. Since I knew nothing about the alternatives, I assumed I was destined to be a loner. I didn’t want that, either.

I suppose I’ll have to settle for a guy that wears dresses and wants king dong to get behind the plow and do dig up some earth. When you spoke of horses, all I could think of was plowing your butt, Phil.

Let’s call it a draw, but Phil has to move out. That bedroom upstairs is where you need to be: Felicia, in the big bed with the pink canopy on top of it. I’ll bet there’s a hundred old dresses in the closet next to it that will fit you. They are covered up, and lovely. It’s not hard to care for quality goods. My mom taught me how.

She taught me a lot of things I can thank her for now. I really didn’t know why at the time, but I guess she did. She figured out what might happen if I stopped taking the meds. She knew I’d try to become a woman someday, since I was so randy all the time. To stay a man, I’d have to ruin some girl’s fine reputation and make her live the life that she did, hating every second of it.

 

’Men don’t get paid for being randy’, she’d say. ‘But girls do. My Dana is growing up so fast we’ll need to buy her a whole new set of bras, pretty soon.’ That’s what she said to me just before I went away to college. She knew that I’d accept a big change in attitude, eventually. I denied it too long, Phil. It’s time that I stop.

Kiss me, Phyllis. Please. Teach me all you know about loving to wear soft fabrics and exquisite nightwear. I have no idea what’s in store for either of us in the long run, but I’m willing to find out.

Want to go upstairs and see my elegant wardrobe?"

 

The End? 

No, not quite. It’s merely the beginning of another meaningful relationship.

 

 

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© 2002 by Virginia Kane. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.