Tea For Two Families

by Sydney Michelle

 

Part Seven

 

Beth tried to focus on the numbers swimming before her. She thought the trip commitment numbers looked good through the end of the year, but without comparable numbers from the prior year, she couldn't be sure. The report was something else to have revised, if the data were available. The job description was also swimming into focus: someone who could make the computer hum, revising and composing brochures as well as communicate Cumberland Tours' needs with Brenda Tynedale of DSS. Tomorrow, she would have to sit down with Jane to see what they could do. He would know if any of the tour guides might be promising.

Freddie was still engrossed in her game, having progressed to level 9. Sandy had just finished another illustrated book, suitable for young birls, written and published by Omphalae Press. He stretched, yawned, covered his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Sleepy, Darling?"

Sandy nodded. "A little."

"Shall I tuck you in?"

"Tell me a story?"

"Of course." I don't get to do that nearly often enough.

"You'll be alright, Freddie?" Freddie hunched closer to the screen. Beth helped Sandy off the couch, holding his hand in hers. "Freddie?"

A puffing sound followed by thunder rolled from the speakers. Freddie relaxed as the rewards screen scrolled. She nodded.

"Alright. Up to bed we go."

"I can do it myself, Mommie."

"Of course you can. But I like holding your hand. Don't you like holding mine?"

Sandy looked up, sleepy eyes smiling for a moment. "Oh. Yes."

Sandy's hand was warm in hers as Beth guided him down the back hall, up the side hall into the foyer, and up the stairs. He was rubbing sleep from his eyes by the time they reached his door.

"Undress me?"

"You're not that helpless, young lady. But I'll get your nightgown and a hanger while you get undressed."

"Okay."

Beth stood in the closet, running her finger down the pile of gowns. Something light, sleeveless? She dug out a thin cotton gown with ruffles on the hem and around the shoulder straps. It was light blue, Sandy's favorite color, after yellow, with little yellow bunnies. She plucked his thin blue robe off it's hanger, draping it over her arm. When Beth emerged from the closet, Sandy was down to his socks and panties, straightening the material of the yellow play suit that lay on the bed.

"Off with everything. You know you shouldn't sleep in your panties."

"Yes, Mommie." Sandy pulled out the thin waist band, sliding his panties down his legs. Then he hopped up on the coverlet of his Princess bow bed to take off his socks.

"Sandy?"

"Yes, Mommie."

"You know to pull the covers back first. I'm sure you're clean, but better to build the habit to be safe rather than sorry. The fewer times we have to clean a coverlet, the longer it will last. To have pretty things, we have to take care of them."

"Sorry, Mommie." Sandy reached back to push up.

"Don't bother now. Just try to remember next time."

Sandy settled back, crossed a leg over a knee to remove the sock. Beth got a full view of her birl's parts. They were still small and pink, hairless and innocent, as were his legs. There were no signs of early puberty, or that he was excited from Samantha's presence that day. His waist nipped in a tiny bit, the result of his daily corset wear. As he grew, heyt would shape him more distinctly, giving him a waist much like a modern girl, or maybe even a bit smaller if he wanted to model or perform, and would put up with extra constriction. If Carol Sue would do it to be in his mother's productions, then Sandy would. He'd be something sweet and petite for an arm to slip around.

Sockless, Sandy jumped down from the bed, thrusting up his arms in a gymnast's landing. His tumbling class was done for the summer; half of the twenty-four birls and girls would be at his birthday party Friday week. If the class ran true to form, about that number would be cheerleaders or drill team members at Miss Fairland's or at Heraton High, the others devoting their time to other interests.

Beth settled th gown over Sandy's arms, the hem floating down to his ankles, his pink polished toes just peeking out. She hung his playsuit on the hanger while he fumbled for his fuzzy, powder blue house slippers.

"Here. Hang this up and put your dirty things in the hamper before you run down the hall. When you're done, I'll tell you a fable. Be sure to wipe yourself thoroughly."

Sandy shrugged on his robe, headed out the door and down the hall to the bathroom he and Freddie shared. Beth folded down the coverlet, turned back the light blanket and sheet. She pulled the captain's chair beside the bed, adjusted the cushions, settled in to consider her story options.

Sandy reappeared sooner than Beth thought possible. "Show me your teeth." Sandy grinned wide, baby teeth gleaming. A fleck of toothpaste hung in the corner of his mouth. "Here, I'll wipe." Beth dug a handkerchief out of her patch pocket. "You really must be thorough, Sandy. Cleanliness is next to godliness. Slow down a little. It's not a race." Beth dabbed at Sandy's mouth, removing the damp wisp. "And did you sit?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Good. Always try so you can sleep through the night. Now give me a hug and hop into bed."

Sandy hugged his mother deeply, cheek to cheek. "I love you , Mommie."

"I love you too, Sweetheart. Now sit up so I can wrap your hair."

Sandy sat up straight on the edge of the bed. He was familiar with the routine that protected his more elaborate hair styles. It was a little uncomfortable sleeping, but he never complained.

Beth clipped the frame together around his head, the coated wires a balloon surrounding Sandy's teased hair. She adjusted the top so that it encompassed his thick, tight ringlets. His hair was still fine, but thick. Miss Jennie so loved working with his hair she had asked if she could use him for a hair model at the Tennessee hair stylists' competition. Sandy had looked so pleased, Beth just had to agree. For four weeks tarting in mod-September, he would br primped and fussed over, his hair brightened, washed and set, teased and sprayed as Miss Jennie created a winning hair style.

"Do you like it when Miss Jennie styles your hair, Sandy? And having big hair and fancy curls? The pins don't bother you? Or the smell of the hair spray?"

Sandy sat very still while Beth began to wrap the anti-static cloth around the frame.

"I like having pretty hair, looking so grown up. I like everything about having my hair done and Miss Jennie telling me how pretty it looks when she presses my hair when she's done. I like it when Sam says my hairdo is pretty, and when she touches it. I want to always have lots of pretty hair."

Beth finished wrapping the frame, stuck the velcro straps in place. "I'm glad. Your pretty hair is your crowning glory. Now sit back against your pillows and I'll tell you a fable.

"Once upon a time, for that's how all these stories begin, a mother had a daughter and a son."

Sandy sat back against the pillows, drawing the light blanket up to his arms, shifting to snuggle in, the cage pressing his head upright. He closed his eyes, listening to his mother's softly lilting voice.

"The birl ran to his mother in tears, upset that his sister boasted of her good looks, by which he thought she meant he was not pretty too, because birls are supposed to be pretty to attract a girl's attention. The mother hugged them both, because she loved them both, even when they argued with one another. 'You, my dear daughter, are too proud of your looks. If only you could be as sweet and thoughtful as your brother. But you, my dear son, are also too vain. You value yourself cheap by comparing yourself to your sister. An outward appearance is pleasing, but its charm fades with habit. Be pleasing in demeanor, and you will appear fair to those who come to love you.

"For the moral of this tale is: Pretty is as pretty does."

Sandy's eyes fluttered open. "Do I act pretty, Mommie?"

Beth smiled. "Usually, Sweetheart. You were especially nice today with our guests. Now say your prayer."

Sandy put his hands together below his chin. "If I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. And God bless Mommie, and Freddie, and Sam, and Carol Sue, and Auntie Vickie. And Miss Jennie, God. She was so nice to me today." Sandy yawned. "'Scuse me."

Beth smiled, kissed Sandy's forehead. "Sweet dreams, Sweetheart. See you in the morning."

 

§§§

 

Beth took the opportunity to answer the call of nature before checking on Freddie. As she sat hunched over, she closed her eyes and thought about her time that day with Sandy. Sandy really does enjoy his time at the beauty parlor, much more so than Freddie. He revels in being fussed over, he chats with all the attendants who work on him. He follows every move Jennie Farmer makes, whether she is rolling him or combing out his hair. He was genuinely pleased when he learned he was getting a nose ring and his nose pierced for his birthday. I'm sure he will love his seahorse pin as well. He really likes being a birl. I must talk with Dr. Marsha about the age to examine him for a hormone patch. I'll bet he's going to still want breasts when puberty hits. He'll make a beautiful bride one day, all curled and fluttery, waiting to be given into the care of his dama.

Beth sighed, relaxed, cleaned herself. She looked deep into the mirror as she washed her hands. Freddie? Like father like daughter? I hope not. As the twig is bent . . .

Beth stood in the doorway of the recreation room, watching Freddie thrust her hands in the air. "Yes!"

"Won your game, Freddie?"

"You bet. My second highest score."

"Good. It's too late for another game. Turn it off and time for bed."

"I'm not sleepy."

"But I have to put in a long day tomorrow. So up to bed with you. You can read until you get sleepy if my fable doesn't tire you out."

Freddie pushed herself up, kicked out her legs to stretch. "If I have to."

"I realize you are getting big, but at nine, you still have to. What do the Pioneers say?"

Freddie came to attention. "Be kind and helpful and obedient around your home."

"Okay. No demerits."

"No demerits." Freddie put her arm around Beth's waist as Beth turned out the lights. "But sometimes it's hard."

Beth kissed the top of her head as strolled down the hall. "I know, Baby. I wish it got easier."

"You mean it doesn't when you get to do what you want?"

Beth laughed as they turned for the stairs. "I'll let you in on a little secret. No one gets to do just what they want. At least not all the time. There are always other people to be considered, making demands. And choices? That just means you have to give up something you want for something else you need." Beth punched the hall lights off.

"You make growing up sound terrible."

"That's why some people are like Peter Pan: they never grow up to take responsibility. But that gets old for everyone else. Growing up does have compensations; just enjoy where you are now and don't be in a hurry to grow up. Remember, you can't ever go back."

Beth and Freddie turned right at the top of the stairs, her bedroom being at the opposite end of the hall from Sandy's and Beth's, across from the children's bathroom. Her bedroom was the mirror image of Sandy's except her walk in closet was next to the hall wall.

The furniture in Freddie's room was similar to Sandy's, but full size since she was approaching five feet tall. Her bed was a double four poster with rice sheaf posts, and she preferred a red mahogany colonial style to French Provincial. The color scheme reflected her favorite colors of green and red, especially the "jewel" tones; pastels were not vibrant enough for her tastes. Her oriental carpet was a Bokhara, with a claret red field. Beth had learned the fine art of equal but different from her mother, Evelyn, as she and her sister Becky were growing up.

"Why don't you slip out of your clothes while I get your nightgown and robe? That way I can get out of your hair sooner."

"Okay."

Freddie's closet had much the same arrangement as Sandy's but with fewer pageant clothes and not nearly so many petticoats. She had more athletic clothes since she ran even when there wasn't track practice. But her preference in nightgowns was more sensuous than Sandy's, since she was older. Her taste was reflected more in material than cut, flowing synthetic silk-like materials more than cotton, a touch of lace rather than embroidery. Beth picked out a deep rose colored, puff sleeve nylon nightie that would fall to Freddie's ankles in case she had to run across the hall. The robe was a deep jade nylon with a cord tie, just heavy enough to fend off a draft.

Freddie was completely stripped down when Beth emerged, turning back the covers. Her hairless body was long and trim, the muscles lightly defined by sport and dance. Her thighs were strong, befitting a runner, her arms with enough muscle to make the throw from left field. Haring the closet door close, she turned to her mother. Her nipples were tiny brown points protruding from dark pink aureolas, what flesh there was defined by exercise, not by the first blush of womanhood.

"Oh, good. I like that one." Freddie bent over, extended her arms to receive the nightgown.

"I'll put your robe at the foot of the bed. You put your things away."

Beth pulled up a maple rocker while Freddie was busy in the closet. She was settled comfortably when Freddie returned. "Do you need to go?"

"Maybe a little now that I'm standing."

"I'll wait while you go take care of business." Freddie slipped on her robe and headed for the door, no slippers on her feet, no polish on her toes. "Don't forget to brush."

Beth closed her eyes as the door closed. It was so long ago, we were so happy that I was pregnant. When we knew it would be a girl, Alex suggested Fredericka, in honor of his grandfather. I was so big, but I never felt so loved. Then in delivery, Alex fainted. It hurt so much, panting and pushing, but when they laid my darling girl on my belly, it was all worth it. She was hungry from the beginning, finding my teat. To hold her while she suckled, I felt so proud, overwhelmed with love for such a fragile thing. But Fredericka will never know that. She will take a birl to wife, maybe Vicky's Carol Suzanne, and have her babies through him. But maybe she will give suck; it's become the fashion for a woman to share that duty with her wife.

"Tired, Mom?"

Beth's eyes flew open. "A little. It will be good to get to bed early for a change. You have something to read?"

"Uh-huh. A Nancy Drew. But I'm beginning to feel a little sleepy too."

"Then I better tell you a story and leave you alone.

"Now once upon a time, for that's how all fables begin, . . ."

Freddie lay back among the pillows, closed her eyes as the gently growing warmth added to her sense of security. Her face relaxed as Beth's lyrical lilt rolled on.

"The shepherdess thought it was great fun to play a trick on the elders who thought they knew so much. She liked the attention, even if her mother had scolded her. She liked it so much that when she got bored the next week, she did it again, crying 'Wolf! Wolf!' as loud as she could. Once more the whole village rushed out to save her and the sheep. And once more, all they found was the shepherdess, laughing to beat the band. The people were even angrier at being frightened for her safety and being made tom feel foolish. Her mother was beside herself with rage, that her daughter should behave so badly. She was so angry, all she could do was walk away. The next day, a hungry wolf did come out of the forest, and she killed a sheep for her dinner. The shepherdess saw what happened and screamed as loud as she could, 'Wolf! Wolf!' But no one believed her; they just shrugged and went about their work. But the wolf was frightened that someone might come, so she attacked the shepherdess, and dragged her off for her pups to eat.

"And the moral of this tale is: No one believes a liar, even when she tells the truth."

Freddie's eyes fluttered open. "You believe me, don't you Mom?"

Beth patted Freddie's hand. "Of course I do. Just remember the moral when you are tempted to avoid being embarrassed by a little fib. Your reputation is too important to waste on covering up some little something you did, or something you didn't do. It will come out eventually anyway."

"So I should tell Mary Manson she's too awkward to play on the team?"

"Don't rub someone's nose in it. You don't have to tell everyone everything. But if you must, you can be tactful, framing it for her best interest, suggesting an alternative. But you don't do someone any favors to believe something that isn't true.

"You do know I love you as much as Sandy, don' you?"

"Sure, Mom. Howcum?"

"Well, sometimes I feel I pay a bit more attention to him than you. Just remember, birls have a harder row to hoe than do girls, so they need a little more attention and encouragement. Not everyone understands or approves. But I'm always here for you if you need to talk to me about something."

"Can't think of a thing."

"But if you should. Now say your prayer and I'll leave you alone to your book."

Freddie closed her eyes and clasped her hands together over the cover. "If I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Lord, let me be strong enough to make a difference, patient when I cannot, and wise enough to know the difference. And bless Mom and Sandy."

Beth smiled, rose, kissed her daughter on the forehead. "I love you, Dearest. I'll see you in the morning before I leave. Granny Evelyn will look in about 8:30. You don't have anything on tap before then, do you?"

"No, Mom."

"Light out?"

"Yes, please." Beth's hand was on the switch as she reached the door. "Mom?"

"Yes, Freddie?"

"I love you too, Mom."

"Thank you, Freddie. That's always nice to hear."

Beth blew Freddie a kiss, then slipped out the door to head to her room.

  

  

  

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