A Time to Every Season

by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

 

Part I

 

Introduction I: Jane's Family at Home

Jane took a deep breath of the soft, morning air, the uniquely New England autumn scents that always made her think 'home'. A rogue breeze rustled her shirt and made Jane smile at the image she displayed. Few if any of her students would have recognized this Jane Thompson-Philips unless they were close enough to see the startlingly vivid eyes and even then, her attire would have elicited at least one double take.

Jane's height-of-fashion ensemble was designed around the sheer inelegance of a Winnie the Pooh and Piglet t-shirt beneath an unbuttoned plaid woolen work-shirt. Jeans, heavy work boots, a Boston Red Sox ball cap and a pair of heavy work gloves completed her regalia. Of course, Jane had a purpose (she refused to call it an excuse) for this stark departure from her normal strictly proper, but thoroughly feminine, uniforms. The man who normally ran her stables and cared for her mounts was away on vacation. Jane had been mucking out the stalls of her horses and seeing to their other needs this morning, and the outfit suited the needs. She smiled mischievously at the thought of what one of her boys would think of her in this outfit. *Maybe I will have Art take a picture of me and include copies in our holiday cards this year. Well, at least the jeans are new,* she thought, *As is the hat.*

The cap was a gift from her adopted son, Darryl. In fact, the jeans were also a gift, but FOR her husband. Art Philips had shown a rather marked and lascivious interest in Jane's bottom and long legs encased in tight (VERY tight) denim. *Any damned tighter and I am going to have to hang from the corseting trapeze just to get them zipped,* she thought before sighing dreamily. *Which won't bother you a bit, Jane Thompson, so long as Art has no trouble getting you out of them quickly when the occasion calls for it.*

Her happily aimless wanderings soon found Jane in her morning garden, enjoying summer's last blooms. The trees would be putting on their fall colors soon. Autumn had always been one of her favorite seasons, as much for the weather and color as anything. New England really was at her best in the fall. It was also the one time of year when history indicated that Jane was most likely to have a few weeks to herself.

One of Jane's goals for her students that she usually managed to achieve was getting the little darlings through her program in time to start school on time in September. And she usually didn't pick up anyone new until sometime in October. It usually took that long for teachers to throw up their hands at the antics of the type of wayward boy who would benefit from Jane's petticoated prison.

Ah, but this September was different. This September she would have more than Marie and the horses to occupy her. This year she had a husband, and soon, she would also have her son home as well. Art had finished his contractual obligation to teach summer school at the university and had arrived home a few days ago. Originally, Darryl was to have accompanied Art home from the university, but there had been a last minute glitch with his registration for the fall semester.

Darryl's agile and voracious young mind had become thoroughly spoiled by the challenge and excitement of Jane's home schooling program, and thus had found his undergraduate studies a grave disappointment by comparison. He wanted out of that stifling and dogmatic Ivy League School program as quickly as was humanly possible. With his typical determination, Darryl had set out to complete his degree early so that he could follow Michael to medical school in the spring term.

His solution had been to take nearly twice as many credits as the school recommended and to use the university's new 'distance learning' program to get them. The university was giving him some grief about residency requirements and course overloads, clearly trying to get him to return in the spring for another semester. He had stayed behind in Providence to resolve the problems with his advisor and the university registrar. Jane hoped that all went well on that front. She was looking forward to having her son AND her husband both home for the next few months.

The question was what was she going to do with this embarrassment of familial riches?

From her perch, she saw a tall slim figure jogging around the stables and turning toward the house. Silver tresses escaping from a ponytail flashed in the cool morning sunlight as the man began a kicking sprint. *Art,* Jane thought her heart swelling, *back from his morning run.*

Darryl and Art both loved badgering her into joining them when they ran, which was one reason Jane had not minded when her horse groom had left on his holiday. Given the choice between running and even the most unpleasant of horse chores, running lost hands down every time in Jane's book.

She watched as her husband slowed to a walk after his end of run sprint, and recognized the behavior from watching Art run with Darryl. Every one of their jogs turned into some silly proof of manhood race when they should have been tired and cooling out. Those races matched Darryl's youth versus Art's much longer stride. Darryl usually won, but never by much and never by enough to feel that confident of winning the next race when Art's stride might easily prove decisive.

Sadly, her adopted son's physical size had never grown to match his heart. By whatever metric human intangibles might be measured, Darryl's heart and spirit set new standards in Jane's view. Whether gently tending to a tearful little sister after one of Jane's exercises or courageously facing down a past fraught with torments and monsters few could survive, Darryl was matchless. He was, in all the best senses of the term, a man - a very gentle man to be sure, but a man through and through.

Jane simply wished he could have been a *larger* gentleman - for all his diminutive size had allowed him to help her time and again with her program. *If only he had been a late bloomer like Kenneth,* she thought. Life in America was so much easier for young men who attained what society viewed as manly height and weight, but the devoutly wished-for growth spurt had never come. Darryl had topped out at a bare five feet five inches tall (slightly on tip-toe, but Jane would never call him on that) and a scant one hundred twenty pounds.

Oddly enough, Darla, the femme alter ego Darryl had assumed as both her student and as resident 'big sister' with several of Jane's most difficult students, was as imposing as she was lovely. Michael/Michelle might have been the most adept student Jane had ever taught and Tyrone/Tyra might have had the cutest face, but Darla was the most striking and the most powerful personality of any of her students.

*Art says that is because Darryl has, over time, modeled Darla after me. 'Like Mother, like daughter' I suppose,* Jane mused, finding herself rather pleased with that observation.

Jane stood and headed for the house. She needed a shower and a clean change of clothes, then she'd check with Marie to see if any help was needed with breakfast preparations. Maybe that tight tube shirt she'd purchased in Boston - the one that showed her bosom to such advantage, and of course, another pair of the painted-on jeans. One very pleasant aspect of having only family in residence at Seasons House was that maintaining her "Jane Thompson-the-Model-of-Unachievable-Feminine-Perfection" was not required every minute of every day. She could even go down to breakfast without makeup and wearing blue jeans.

A sensual glint lit Jane's dark eyes. She'd dispense with the boots, though. Leg man that he was, Art would appreciate the sight of her strutting to the breakfast table wearing these tight jeans and a pair of spike heeled sling backs. Her grin took a decidedly wicked turn. Just because Jane Thompson was the epitome of all things ladylike did not mean she did not know how to be a proper tease when the occasion or her mood called for it. Some of the best teases in history were grand ladies and Jane always subscribed to being the best she could be at anything she decided was worth doing.

And if her darling hubby played his cards right, she'd let him express his approval in the time honored way of appreciative lovers - after breakfast, of course. Working in the stables always left Jane famished and she planned on needing the energy a good meal provided.

Introduction II: Art and Jane Together

Without alerting Jane to his presence, Art watched his wife of less than a year smile softly as she scanned the large scrapbook on her desk. He immediately recognized the tome as her 'rogues gallery' of boys who had passed through her program. Every one of them had been on their way to trouble when someone had cared enough to send them to Jane Thompson and her not-so-gentle brand of tough love. Art had seen, first hand, the love those young men still held for their 'Aunt Jane' last Christmas when the cards had arrived - most of them accompanied by recent family photos and little notes about how this god child was doing or what mischief that honorary niece had gotten herself into. All but two of the young men who had been sent to her had graduated from Jane's program, and all those who had graduated had gone on to become very good men. So what if they'd needed to be turned into very proper, very demure little girls first?

Jane sighed and began to close the book. Art moved into the room and said "If this was a western, I might say 'It's awful quiet around these-here parts, pilgrim. Almost TOO quiet.'" The drawling attempt at a John Wayne impersonation was terrible and earned the desired smile.

"Our son once informed me that the Duke, assuming that is who you were trying so unsuccessfully to imitate, never used the term 'pilgrim' in any of his movies," she retorted, "But, letting that little error in trivia slide, I will reluctantly agree. It is indeed very quiet."

"Much as I love and respect our son, in this case he's wrong. I know for a fact that he used it because I saw the movie on the late show the other night," Art replied smugly, and then became more serious. "You miss having the students, don't you?" He asked as he slipped behind her and began massaging her shoulders. "As much as you enjoy having some quiet time, that restless energy of yours needs an outlet."

Jane nearly purred and hugged her chin against his hand with a smile. "I suppose I do, but I don't have any boys here right now nor any possibilities looming on the horizon." She sighed somewhat sadly. "Perhaps that is just as well."

"What do you mean, love?" Art asked as he found and began working on one of the 'muck-shoveling' muscle knots that Jane's walk had not eased.

"Just that I need time to think about the whole program. I've been working with boys, using my method for a very long time. Maybe it is time to do something else. The last few have been so unusual, Art," she said, spinning her desk chair about so she could look up at him.

"So?" Art asked, trying to draw her out.

"You're playing Socratic psychologist with me, dear," Jane cautioned, but then smiled to ease the rebuke. "And you KNOW how little I like dealing with your so-very-gently-pointed questions- with-no-right-answers. To answer that LAST question, however, I don't really know. Perhaps something fundamental has changed - with the boys or with me. . .maybe both - and the things that I do are no longer as effective. More importantly, my lessons and activities no longer seem to be as SAFE as they once were. I mean, look at. . . "

"I *know* what you mean, but Mina was a unique episode which will NOT be repeated."

"I know," Jane sighed. "But there is also the issue that I am not as young as I once was," she offered.

"Not even fifty yet, and how was it your doctor put it? In better shape than most of her thirty-five year old patients? No, Jane, I am not letting you use that tired and worn-out excuse. If you decide to close the Seasons House School, then let it be for real and meaningful reasons. You've had a rough patch the past five years or so. Kenneth's Mother, Darryl's brother, Caitlyn, but in each of those cases, good has come of their experiences with you. You STILL helped those boys, and in Kenneth's, Darryl's and Caitlyn's cases, I truly believe that your intervention saved their lives. Consider your alternatives and while you are at it, consider their alternatives, but when you make your decision, make it for the right reasons."

Jane gazed up into her lover's face, an enigmatic half smile forming on her lips. "How do I know what the right reasons are?"

Art crouched down to eye level and planted a little kiss on Jane's nose. "You will know, my dear, you'll know," then he stood and offered her his hand. "C'mon now. You look *really* uncomfortable in those jeans. Let's go up to our room and see if we can find you something more. . . .comfortable to slip into and I will finish this massage without such. . . lovely impediments."

A mischievous grin lit Jane's face as she let her husband pull her to her feet. Once there, she leaned over and returned the nose kiss. "What the heck took you so long to ask, Philips?"

~---------------~

Much later, Art cuddled his drowsing wife close. "Any word from Darryl?"

"He's taking the afternoon train here on the day after tomorrow. I offered to go pick him up in the Lincoln, but he seems to think I should have . . .other things to occupy my time now that you're home."

Art grinned as he shifted Jane in his arms and rolled her on top of him. "I *do* like the way that boy thinks." he said planting a teasing kiss on Jane's pursed lips.

"I suppose, but I wish he had more in his life than studies just now. It really is too bad he broke up with his young lady before he came home."

"No it isn't," Art said firmly. "She was good for his ego but she wasn't the type for long term commitment. She made him feel like a real stud in the physical sense, but she always bored him silly outside of the bedroom. That one went back for seconds in the boob 'n' butt line when she should have been in the queue where they handed out brains. Your Darryl is going to need a woman whose mind challenges him at least as much as her body turns him on."

"ART!" Jane spluttered, trying to stifle a giggle. "A man does not discuss a lady's son with her in those terms! It simply isn't done!"

"Oh really?"

"Really," Jane said, this time with the giggle getting out. "It is too bad. I keep hoping he'll find someone like Michael's Janice or Eric's Sylvia."

"Someone he can share both sides of his personality with, like I share Diana with you?"

Jane nodded. "But girls like that aren't just lying about to be scooped up, are they?" At Art's negative shake, Jane sighed. "By the way," she added suddenly, "Speaking of Diana? She has been missing from my bed too long, buster. I want silk and perfume, romance and glamour tonight!" she growled, beginning to playfully tussle with her mate. "And seduction."

"Fair's fair, woman," Art growled right back. "Silk for silk, glamour for glamour, and I will take care of the romance and seduction. Deal?"

"Deal!" Jane almost squealed as she leaned over top of Art and began to kiss him senseless.

Introduction III: Judge Ruth Calls

The sun was moving lower in the western skies when the pair had finally risen from Jane's bed. Seated at her vanity, Jane gazed dreamily into her mirror, raptly watching as her spouse went about his. . .her transformation into the very attractive Diana. Then she sighed - half in appreciation, half in resignation as Diana began doing up the front fastenings of the black satin corset she used on special occasions.

The appreciation was easily understood. The corset made Diana's figure mouth watering. Jane's resignation was equally heartfelt. . . or was that 'waist-felt'?. She knew that Diana only wore that corset because Jane found it sexy and Jane had agreed to 'silk for silk, glamour for glamour'. That meant that JANE also had to wear one of those sexy Iron Matrons tonight, too. Jane was not the only member of this marriage-partnership who liked seeing his or her partner tightly laced into gleaming feminine perfection. *Of course, she will lace me as tightly as I lace her and since I don't want to faint from lack of oxygen in the middle of our lovemaking, I will have to be sadly restrained in my . . .assistance.*

Art, almost Diana, grinned mischievously as he sat down on an overstuffed ottoman and began to carefully and slowly slide full- fashion stockings up over each fully extended leg. Standing, he slipped his feet into a pair of dark blue heels and began fastening the garters. *She's still watching,* he thought. "Umm, Jane, darling," he called out, his voice now Diana's soft, husky alto rather than Art's light baritone, "I'm almost ready for the vanity and you haven't even begun putting on your makeup. Not that I mind putting on a reverse strip tease for your entertainment, but unlike that pushover Art, *I* am not going to give you any relief until after you have treated me to a night of dancing, wining and dining on the town. So get dressed, wench!" as she disappeared into the walk-in closet.

Jane jumped as if she'd been shocked and hurriedly reached for her foundation. She'd just gotten the top off the pot when the phone's rude electronic signal whined loudly. Grumbling, Jane reached over to pick up the modern appliance, regretting yet again the relegation of her beloved antique continental-style phone to the downstairs foyer. "Hello?" she asked and then brightened. "Ruth! How are you? What is up?"

Diana reemerged from the closet, gave up on waiting for Jane to finish and began gathering tubes and pots to one side of the vanity. Jane's breath caught at the sight of her lover's chosen outfit - the jewel-bright blue satin, knee-length evening dress that matched the silver haired vision's eyes. "Oh yes, Art's here, only," and here Jane glanced up at her lover's eyes in the mirrors and made an air kiss, "Only it's more Diana than Art right now." Jane listened some more. "All right . . .let me see, how do I turn on this bloody speaker phone Darryl and Kenneth insisted I should have. . ." She was about to guess when Diana's slender finger reached down and pressed a button. She suppressed a sigh when it worked because it wasn't the one she would have pressed.

With a mock snarl, Jane turned to face Diana who was calmly smoothing on her foundation. "I would have gotten it right," she mouthed not quite honestly before turning back to the phone. "Can you hear me, Ruth?"

"Sure can." came the somewhat tinny voice from the small speaker. "How are you, Art/Diana?"

"Just fine, Ruth," Diana replied. "What can we do for you since I suspect that unless you are calling to tell us our marriage license is invalid, you have other reasons for wanting us both in on this conversation."

"Oh, there's no problem with your somewhat hasty civil wedding ceremony except that *he's* still upset that you forgot to invite him and his friends. I suspect you are going to have to do something special there, but that is not why I am calling. Jane? Art? I need some help. Janie? Do you remember Pru Taylor? From our sorority?"

Jane thought for a minute and then nodded. "She was an athlete, wasn't she? Ran track and field, if I recall correctly? Attended school on an athletic scholarship? Is that who you mean?"

"Yes, that is her, only her name is Rockwell now. She's a widow now - lost her husband in one of those screw-ups in Somalia - he was a military advisor there and got caught in an ambush."

"So, what is it, Ruth?" Jane asked, wondering why Ruth wasn't getting to the point.

"She's got a child. . .well, a teenager actually, who is headed for trouble. Temper bordering on terminal rage, very anti-social - the whole works. Pru's really worried, Jane."

"Are you referring the case to me formally, Your Honor?" Jane asked.

"No, not quite, but only because it hasn't gotten that far yet. So far, things have been kept out of the courts which is part of the problem, Jane. At age seventeen, there is every possibility when things do finally go that far, she will be tried as an adult instead of coming to me in juvie. I told her Mother about you and what you do, and she asked me to talk to you about taking on the child."

"I don't have a big sister in residence right now, Ruth," Jane temporized, "Not only that, but I have been sort of reevaluating of late. The last few have been, well, almost all exceptions to the old rules. I am not sure my methods have the same applicability as they once had."

"Now don't go losing confidence on me now, Jane Thompson," Ruth snapped across the miles. "You are the best chance those kids had and the best thing that happened to all of them."

"And seventeen is a little old for what I do," Jane temporized further, the memories of Shelley/Trip and Carl/Carol, each of whom had only just barely made the 'big step' before reaching their legal majorities - which would have taken them out of her control -flashing across her mind. "Are you sure my program is the way to go? Why not one of those 'Outward Bound' programs with lots of exercise, fresh air and positive male role models?"

"Bear with me here, Jane, and let me explain this special situation."

Introduction IV: Darryl's Train Trip Home

Darryl boarded the train with a considerable sense of deja vu. How many years had it been? Almost five since a frightened and abused, fourteen year old boy had boarded this very train?

So much had changed for the better in those intervening years. Back then, his name had been Darryl Smith. Now it was Darryl Thompson-Philips . . . usually. . . .well, at least lately it had been. . . except when it was Darla Thompson-Philips.

Memories of that second christening elicited a smile across his smooth young features. He'd been given the name 'Darla' by his own big sister, Stephanie, towards the end of those first hellish two days under Jane Thompson's regimen. Initially, Darryl had reacted as he'd later learned that most boys reacted - complete confusion, then anger, then terror and embarrassment - before ultimately falling in line with Jane's plans with only the most minor of complaints. He'd gone through the make-up sessions, the multiple dressings and modeling exercises, the shopping and beauty parlor trips, the soirees - had been the target of every arrow in Jane's male-ego-killing quiver - and had reacted predictably to them all.

Until, that is, the afternoon after his first trip to the Marisha Chalet when he'd taken a really close look at 'Darla' in the mirror and realized that she might be the means for his escape from hell. While many of Jane's other students would have defined that as an escape from Jane Thompson's feminine prison, not so young Darryl Smith. No, Darryl's own private and fiery hell had worn the face of his own brother - a brutal, sadistic bastard who had considered Darryl to be his personal slave and who had abused and raped the young boy repeatedly.

And who would never have stopped searching for Darryl so that he could do all those vile things over and over again. At least, not until Darryl had either died or killed himself.

Darryl had, in that moment of mirrored epiphany, developed a plan to become Darla and to use that new identity to escape his brother once and for all. Even if that meant living the rest of his life as a woman. However, he realized that if his plan was to have any hope of success, his disguise had to be flawless. He began studying Jane's lessons 'how to be a girl' with a will and a commitment to perfection that Jane had never seen before. Only his brother's very timely death had prevented Darryl from following through on that plan.

So much had changed, Darryl thought again as he took his seat. Now he had a family and a future.

His reminiscences were distracted by the shoving and bustling of other passengers boarding the car. Across the way, a guy in a loose jacket and bulky bib-style overalls was struggling to get an evidently very heavy bag into the overhead. It was unwieldy enough to be awkward, even aside from weight, so Darryl figured he'd lend a hand. "Hey, man, let me help you with that," he offered, smiling.

The other passenger spun on his heel and faced him, furious. "Get away from me," the passenger snarled before adding "I can handle this just fine on my own." and then proved that by slamming the obviously heavy bag up into the rack.

*Adrenaline,* Darryl mused. "Okay, fine. Just trying to help."

"Next time," the fellow hissed, "Don't bother!"

Shrugging philosophically, Darryl slipped back into his own seat. *Well, I tried. Wonder what put the burr under his saddle?*

Strangely, he then elected to take the backward facing seat, a decision that allowed Darryl to continue to observe him. On closer inspection, the guy was not really out of the ordinary. His nearly black hair was closely cropped, but not into some sort of punk cut. It was more like an old-fashioned crew cut, Darryl mused to himself. The unstylish haircut and sloppy clothes defined a persona, almost a stereotype, and Darryl was almost ready to categorize this guy in his mind.

And yet, there was something wrong - something about him that just didn't fit. Darryl was still pondering that when the guy looked up, feeling Darryl's eyes on him perhaps, and frowned.

*Damn, what I wouldn't give for eyes that blue,* Darryl sighed. *Too bad about the broken nose,* he thought, continuing his inventory of his unwitting subject's features. *Nice eyebrows, too . Darla still gets hers uneven every now and then. Man-oh-man, except for that nose, imagine what Jane and Marie could do with that face. The 'she' those two would make of that fellow would be a heartbreaker and based on his response to a friendly offer of help, he could definitely benefit from a little Thompsonly tutelage in polite manners.*

Darryl sat there, thinking back to the days of those first makeup lessons, and catalogued the features of the rude young man against what techniques would be necessary to change this rude 'him' into one of Aunt Jane's sweetly submissive 'hers. *Let's see, the nose is hopeless, that would need surgery. Those eyebrows need to be plucked, of course, but the brow ridge is not prominent at all - quite delicate in fact, and it leaves his eyes looking nicely large. And the line of the jaw seems almost fragile, as though . . . oh, my God! All those things I have to compensate for with Marie's cosmetic tricks are already . . . right. Good grief, he's a. . .I mean. . that's a girl! I . . . think.*

Trying for subtlety, Darryl gave the suddenly female-appearing creature a more thorough examination. Fine boned fingers fidgeted nervously with a thin golden chain or fob that had come from one of the bib-overalls' many pockets. She (he?) was long- legged, and appeared quite fit although that was difficult to tell, dressed as he or she was in those baggy, unflattering garments.

Then, the girl became aware of Darryl's intense interest. Her skin flushed again and her hands went very still. Fixing her eyes on his, she raised her chin in a movement that while challenging, was also undeniably female.

She really was a girl, albeit not a very feminine one.

*Small wonder I did not realize she was a girl. Between that haircut and those clothes. Big girl, too,* he thought. *Taller than me by a few inches for sure, and bloody strong, too, based on how she slung that case into the overhead rack. Wonder how she broke her nose? Except for that, she's got really nice bones which makes her attitude and taste in clothes even sadder. Wonder how Momma-Jane would react to her?* A mischievous grin lit Darryl's face. *Oh lord, I have GOT to see Jane's face when she sees this one. Now, how do I arrange to get her off the train in Kingston?*

Chapter 1: Another Train, Another Student

As she watched the train roll to a stop, Jane squeezed Diana's gloved hand for what must have been the tenth time since they had arrived at the train station. Timing was always critical on these first contacts, but this one exceeded all bounds. When Ruth had called with the new student's travel arrangements, Jane had immediately tried to reach Darryl and ask him to take a different train. She'd missed him by mere minutes.

Now, they were stuck with a less than desirable 'Plan B'. Diana had to intercept Darryl before he greeted Jane in boy-garb while Jane corralled the new student. If all went well, there would be time for a family conference after the new student was sleeping off Jane's sleeping potion-laced after dinner wine. Otherwise, having Darla play the big sister, at least for the first few critical days, might well cease to be an option.

Jane started when Diana suddenly released her grip on her spouse's hand and strode off toward one of the train cars. There, at the door, was a widely smiling Darryl, waving happily to his family. Jane winced as her son jumped to the platform before the train had completely stopped. He would have made a beeline towards his beloved "Momma-Jane" had not Diana caught him by the arm and all but frog-marched him into the terminal.

*Phase One complete,* Jane thought relieved. She still did not know precisely how she was going to handle this one, but at least all her conceivable options remained viable. *How in heavens name did I get myself INTO this mess?*

~------------~

As she hustled their son away from Jane, Diana looked back over her shoulder at her beloved wife. Though it would have been invisible to anyone else, Diana could see signs of the anxiety she remembered in Jane the night before, right after Ruth's call.

It had been nearly forty minutes after a still-disbelieving Jane had told Ruth that she needed more time to consider her long-time friend's request. Comfortably situated in one of the plush overstuffed chairs Jane kept only in her private suite, Diana had watched as her wife furiously paced the room. She'd already tried to calm the Mistress of Seasons House down twice and had failed miserably both times. This was apparently one of those times when all a caring husband could do was let her wife work through things on her own.

*Well, almost on her own,* the cross-dressed psychologist had laughed quietly to himself. Diana had pretty much already decided what Jane would do - would NEED to do. After that had been decided in Diana's mind, it had simply been a matter of carefully (VERY carefully) letting her agitated spouse reach that very same conclusion with as little prodding as possible. After all, Jane had not gotten very far with her dressing and that peignoir she was almost not wearing was calling to her. *Best laid plans of mice and men and whatevers, Philips,* she'd told herself. *You have to get her to take you out on your date before you can have any of that, and by your own words, too, DUMMY!*

"How can you just SIT there," Jane had suddenly spun about, raging at her spouse.

"If I stood you'd run me over," Diana had replied equably, which only served to further fuel the emotions that were driving Jane Thompson.

Diana had only barely caught the pillow Jane had then hurled at her before it connected with her face. "You know what I mean," the teacher had growled as she looked about for more ammunition. At that point, Diana had decided to come out of the chair, catching her hand as she reached for a piece of sculpture.

"Ah, ah, ah," she'd said as she had disengaged her lover's fingers and then carried Jane bodily to the couch. "Sit!" Jane had sat, just barely catching herself crossing her arms over her breasts in a pout. Diana had merely grinned and then tipped the angry redhead's chin up so the two lovers could lock eyes. "You know what you are going to have to do, love. You would not be you if you did not at least try."

"But this is all wrong!" Jane had nearly wailed.

"No, it is not wrong, but it is very different than your usual situation. Are you afraid?"

THAT had done it! Fury had sparkled in her dark eyes, but only for a moment, and then her shoulders had again slumped. "Of course I am afraid," she sighed, the emotion bleeding out of her. "As we discussed just this morning, I have begun to doubt certain parts of my program. Still, as soon as I heard Ruth's voice, I was like a fire horse hearing the bell ring, but DiANNNAA, what she wants me to do is. . .is. . "

"Very different," Diana had agreed. "But I think you can still help. You care, and you have the time, the resources and the will to do what needs be done." Jane only grimaced and Diana chuckled. *What a WOMAN,* Diana's mind had crowed, *and she's MINE!* "Not only that," she'd continued, "but you have me. And/or Art, that is."

Jane had simply sat there silently for a several moments. "You think I should do this." It had not been a question.

Diana had shaken her head at that, sending silver wisps of hair dancing about her face. "Jane, my life's true love, it doesn't matter what I think. YOU'VE already decided to do it, dear, in your heart, at least. You are just trying to convince that more rational part of you to quit bitching about the decision."

"I know," Jane said in a very small voice. "I know."

"So, when Marie and Darryl get back we have a council of war?"

Sighing, Jane had then risen and walked into Diana's open arms. "I think we're going to need one, don't you? After all, wasn't it you who told me that the reason I wasn't reaching Caitlyn was it is damned difficult to convey a credible threat of terrifying humiliation to a girl, if all you can do is expose her publicly as a girl? Oh lord, Art, whatever am I going to do with a REAL girl?!"

"I don't know, love," Diana had replied with a chuckle, "Not YET, but I think the first thing you need to do?"

"What?" Jane had asked, almost meekly, her face still buried in Diana's Obsession-scented shoulder.

"Get dressed. That peignoir is gorgeous but you promised to take me out to kick up our heels on the town tonight. We aren't likely to get another chance for a while - not with a student in the house - so go get dressed." With that, the smiling psychologist had planted a sharp swat to Jane's shapely backside. At her outraged glare, Diana had smiled. "And don't forget to call me to do up your lacings."

~--------------~

The train was nearly empty and passengers were beginning to board and still Jane had not seen her new student. Fear clutched at her as she contemplated the possibility of a runner with icy dread. Then, a tall figure, garbed in thoroughly disreputable clothing, pushed through the boarding crowd lugging an obviously heavy duffel bag. Jane felt the beginnings of a migraine burn behind her eyelids.

With a deep breath to calm her nerves, Jane stepped forward. "Miss Chastity Rockwell?" Jane saw the girl start at hearing her name and knew that this. . .this. . .child had to be her new student. She held out an elegantly gloved hand in greeting. "I am Jane Thompson, Chastity, your Mother's friend." Jane winced as the girl wiped her hand on jeans before taking Jane's and vigorously shaking it.

"Rocky, I only answer to Rocky," the girl replied with unexpected heat in her voice, "If you're my mother's friend, Jane Thompson, we need to get that understood right now. I make it a point of personal pride NEVER to answer to Chastity."

"But . . .but that is your name," Jane replied, too surprised by a student taking HER to task to scold the girl for her lack of manners.

"Only on my birth certificate and it is only there until I am eighteen. It is a traditional family name, but I hate it. I already have the necessary paperwork filled out to change it when I turn eighteen. Kind of a birthday present, you know?"

"And what will you change your name to?" Jane asked, trying to regain her equilibrium.

"I just told you," the girl scoffed. "The name I answer to is Rocky. That is the name that will be on the papers, too."

Chapter 2: Darryl Joins the Plan

Darryl kept his questions to himself until they were in Marie's estate wagon and on the road to Seasons House. "Okay, Daddy- Diana, what's up? Why are we here and Momma-Jane still at the train station?" Then a thought occurred to him. "Oh, I get it. There was a new student on the train." he said with certainty.

"You got it. Ruth called day before yesterday. Jane and the Mom are sorority sisters. . ."

"Not like Ken's mother?" Darryl demanded, suddenly worried.

"Not hardly," Diana chuckled. "Janey remembers this one as being as sweet as Sheila turned out to be poisonous."

"So, I am being kept out of sight so that I can jump into the nearest phone booth, don my costume and become Super-Sister?"

"Well, that is one option, son," Diana said with Art's voice. "This one is going to be different, particularly for your Mother who is not real comfortable with the scenario. I think you, that is, Darla, could be a real asset at some point in this student's program."

"At some point? Jane's changed the plan? She's not going to put the screws to this guy in the first two days and have big sister around to feel him out and help set him up? What is this guy? A really bad troublemaker? If Jane's that worried about him, why did YOU let her take him on?!?"

"Well, it isn't so much that the new student is a bad actor or that the program being different as the fact that this student is very different from any Jane has ever taken on."

"THAT different?" Darryl asked, his tone dubious.

Diana turned amused, twinkling eyes on her adopted son. "Yup. Janey has never taken on a real girl before."

It was very satisfying, Diana thought, to see the boy's jaw drop that far. She didn't often get the better of her all-too-bright adopted son. Then her own chin dropped in a graceless expression Jane would never tolerate when that son said, "Oh, no, it can't be. Not HER!!"

~--------------------~

Almost disgusted with himself, Darryl fell to wandering aimlessly about his temporary hideaway. Diana had dropped him off at Jane's horse barn where Marie had prepared the old stable manager's apartment for him. Long vacant - but well maintained, as was everything that belonged to Jane Thompson - the rooms were located in the back of the barn, on the side away from the main house on the second floor. Part of the apartment had been, in recent times, converted into a small private gym/workout space for Art who needed regular rigorous exercise to maintain Diana's fine womanly figure - particularly now that Marie was feeding him on a daily basis.

The plan Diana had laid out for him during the drive home from the train station was that Darryl would stay out of sight while she and Jane dined with the girl. Darryl had told Diana that Jane might need another way of putting her new student to sleep because he wasn't at all sure this one would drink Jane's gently doctored wine. He thought he'd finally figured out what was in that heavy duffel and what that said about the girl with the broken nose. She was an athlete, and from what little he'd observed, she was probably a good one. She might refuse the wine because it broke her training. Well, Jane's experience with Ken, when he had refused the wine should have forced her to come up with a contingency plan or two.

In any case, Diana had left a cellular phone with him and promised to call him when the girl was asleep and the coast was clear.

It couldn't be too soon for him because he really missed that wonderful old Victorian monstrosity of a house, especially the views from the windows of his room. Heavens above, he even missed all the pastel frou-frou that was part and parcel of his Darla persona, hard-put-upon senior student in Jane Thompson's Girl's School for Wayward Boys. When he was away from home, he was even haunted by the remembered scents of the perfumes, powders and other cosmetics that flavored every facet of Seasons House. Heck, truth to tell, it would be nice to be able to get back into silks and satins again for a while. The soft, smooth fabrics really were more comfortable, at least when Momma-Jane wasn't forcing corsets and stiff petticoats on him. And heels made him taller, which was always desirable.

Other young males would likely cringe at that bit of self recognition, but those young men had not had the good fortune to be raised to manhood by Momma-Jane. Darryl no longer concerned himself about how his time as Darla might have affected his masculinity because nothing of what he did or wore in Seasons House changed anything that really counted in his life. Darla was simply an integral part of who he was, just as his diminutive size and height were integral parts of Darryl Thompson-Philips. There was no doubt in his mind that he was a man in every sense of the word. He was ALSO a man who could and regularly did flawlessly impersonate a beautiful girl. Moreover, he was a man who thoroughly enjoyed his ability to carry off that impersonation and who enjoyed the society of other women during those impersonations.

*And even when I am Darryl,* he caught himself with a half snort, half laugh, *I think of 'society of other women' when I think about Darla, as if she truly is a woman.*

Well, Darryl-the-man liked the 'society of women' as well, although he had other reasons to enjoy their company that was beyond Darla's own. In point of actual fact, Darla had been a great help in that regard. To a woman, each of his lovers had remarked upon Darryl's attentiveness and unusual sensitivity and insight about women. He'd even managed to remain friends with each of them after their time as lovers had run its course.

Now, Jane had taken on a real girl as a student. That had to be a first - at least since she'd left her position as Headmistress of Eastmore Girl's School. Where would he fit into that situation? *Heavens,* he thought, *Where would Darla fit into that situation?* Darryl wasn't sure.

In the past, the big sister's job was part spirit-guide, part role model and nstigator/snitch. His own observations, close up and personal, proved that girl needed the role-model most of all, but that role was also the one fraught with the most danger. Oh, Darla would still be able to keep an eye on her little sister, help her over the rough spots, and perhaps even tease away some of the tears and the tensions. Unlike Michael/Michelle, Darryl had no compunction about helping Jane set up the new student for the traps that were critical to the program, or keeping the teacher abreast of where the student's head really was, but what would happen if - when the girl found out that her feminine role model was male?

And what would Jane's controlling threat be with this one? Expose her to the world as a girl dressed in girl's clothes? That did not sound like much of a threat to Darryl. So what would be the tool or tools that gave the girl pause when she started to react in a negative or unacceptable manner? Somehow, Darryl did not think calling her a 'sissy' would do much more than really piss her off, and after seeing her display of strength and temper on the train today, that did not seem like such a good idea.

He thought a while longer about the situation and what his role in the coming drama might be, then laughed. "Might as well admit that you are intrigued by this, Darryl," he finally said to himself. "A real girl in Jane's boy's school. Won't it be interesting to see what she looks like in some nice clothes?"

Just then, the electronic signal of the cell phone sounded. Darryl picked it up, opened the connection and listened. "Okay, Daddy-Di. . . I will be there in a few minutes."

Chapter 3: First Council Strategies

"Wait, dear," Jane said quietly when Darryl made noises about going up to his room to clean up, "We need to talk with you and Marie now. Since you missed our luncheon, I asked Marie to put together a light tea for you. You can eat while we all meet in my office."

Darryl looked at the Mother of his heart and saw emotion Jane Thompson rarely permitted to show. There was uncertainty in those dark green eyes, and something else - perhaps even fear. *I guess that isn't too surprising. This is not just another student for her to tear down and rebuild the same old way, now is it? After all the last few students have put her through, now she is stepping into completely new territory where the experiences of a lifetime have little application.* "Okay, Momma- Jane," he said softly and then moved gracefully down the hall toward the downstairs office.

"Was it my imagination?" Diana asked after Darryl had disappeared from view, "Or was that Darla who just answered you?"

~--------------~

There was something innately, intrinsically feminine about the young person who skillfully poured the tea and served the light snacks to the other three women, Diana reflected as she fell into the familiar dual roles of both participant and observer. It certainly wasn't their child's state of dress that accounted for that perception of femininity, for the combination of running shoes, jeans and pullover was at best androgynous. And yet, a casual or inexperienced observer would never have thought this young person was a male.

*It isn't just the small stature and size, either,* Diana thought as she concentrated on watching her son as she. . .he proffered the plate of dainty pastries to Jane and Marie. *It is also manners and mannerisms; presentation and presence. Every non- verbal cue just screams 'female', and yet, when Darryl is Darryl, he is just the opposite - all man in spite of the supposed limitations of his physical size. When I think of how hard I have to work and what I have to do to carry off the masquerade he seems to pull off without apparent effort? I just want to scream.*

"Very nicely done, dear," Jane complimented as she settled her teacup in the delicately painted saucer. "You have surmised, Darryl, that I would like you to help me with this new student? At least for the first crucial couple of weeks?"

"Darla, Momma-Jane," she was instantly corrected by the familiar and soft tones of her 'daughter', "although what good I can be to you when you are dealing with a real girl, I don't know," Darla shrugged that off and continued, "But you know I am willing to try. And for longer than just a couple of weeks if that will help you. I was able to resolve most of the university's concerns about my distance learning classes. I will be able to do most of the work here at home and only go into the city perhaps one day a week, at most three days every two weeks."

"Excellent, dear. As to what you will do, well, Diana and I have been discussing that ever since we first agreed to try to help this child."

"Somehow, Momma-Jane, I don't think your usual threat of telling the student to play by your rules or leave as they are dressed is going to work with this one. Being a real girl, she might decide to take you up on the offer." Darla said pertly, trying to relieve the somber tone of the discussions.

"I believe, my dear, as old and set-in-my-ways as you no doubt think I am, that I have reached the conclusion all by myself."

"So what do we do?"

Jane sighed, wishing she felt more confident. "Diana and I have come up with a strategy we think will work. The girl has a main goal in her life. I can, given that she must live under my authority until she graduates or reaches her eighteenth birthday, be of significant assistance to her towards achieving that goal. On the other hand, I can also do a great deal to make it impossible for her to pursue that goal while she is living here, and while that time frame is limited by her majority to a maximum of eight months, the end result will set her back by more than a year."

"So, she plays by your rules and is a good little girl, or you will take away her dream? You sure you want to take the chance that she won't force you to follow through on that threat?" Darla asked, concerned. While Aunt Jane often enjoyed her little games and tricks, Darla knew that imposing real penalties that had far-reaching potential deeply distressed the truly caring inner-woman.

"Diana and I believe we have worked out a scheme that will preclude me having to impose that forfeit on her. We will know better tomorrow morning when I give her what Kenneth called the Scylla or Charybdis choice. Diana believes she will take the path of least resistance to her own over-arching goal, which will be to follow my orders and hope to curry the favor of my assistance.

"So, assuming it goes as you and Diana have planned, Momma-Jane, what happens next?"

"The usual first day exercises except at a slightly slower pace. I think we will have to take things slowly with this one, carefully considering each step as we go along. It may take longer for her to see the benefits, but I would rather do that than make an irreparable error early in the program. For right now, I think we will still try the makeup lessons and fashion shows. Marie has already acquired and inventoried her personal belongings," Jane shook her head sadly. "I was hoping there was something in there we could use."

Marie snorted. "You would not believe this, Darla, but those abominable things she was wearing are the most presentable clothes she brought with her. And she does not own so much as a tube of lipstick or pot of moisturizer. The closest thing she has to cosmetics is Mennen after-shower powder, deodorant and athlete's foot spray. We will not even discuss what she brought in lieu of lingerie, for it does not even deserve to be called underwear."

*I should have expected that,* Darla thought. *Jane as much as confirmed my theory that she is a jock. Wonder how Aunt Jane is going to deal with that?*

"Just so, Marie," Jane interjected, reasserting her control of the small meeting. "In any event, those deficiencies ensure that she will benefit by the same lessons we always set for the boys that first day. Cosmetology, hair care, dictionary walking, fashion changes - the whole make over routine. Whatever she is anticipating on her arrival here, I don't think she expects to be turned into a Victorian dress-up doll, so that will have the desired effect of putting her off balance."

Darla began nodding and then suddenly remembered her role in those activities. "But, Momma-Jane, won't that put me into situations where. . .well, I mean, the big sister helps the little sister dress. . ," a bright red blush colored Darla's cheeks. "And she's a minor, assuming Aunt Ruth is the referring court official. I. . that is, we could get into real trouble with this. . "

"Well, that is one of the key problems Diana and I still must resolve, dear. We're not precisely sure that a long term 'big sister' is what this one needs. Certainly, a good, solid feminine role model should be a help, but that is one of the areas where we will be playing this by ear. And just so you know, Ruth did not officially refer the girl here, Darla. Miss Rockwell is here at her Mother's instigation based on Ruth's recommendation. Both the Mother and Ruth have said that they trust me not to put the girl in danger of her virtue, but. . ." Jane turned suddenly pleading eyes to Diana.

With a laugh, Diana moved over to put a comforting hand on Jane's shoulder. "They both understand that you might be involved and what the ramifications of your participation are. What Jane is trying to say, Darla, is seeing your new little sister en dishabille from time to time, is not really going to be all that big an issue unless you are going to lose your manly control and try to have your wicked way with her." Diana's tone was suddenly lightly playful and teasing.

"Not bloody likely with that one," their child replied in tones that were clearly more Darryl than Darla. "She might hurt me."

"Just so," Diana continued, hiding a half smile behind her hand. "What Jane is really concerned about is how that . . . hmmmmm. . shared sisterly intimacy might affect Rocky's willingness to continue learning if she ever finds out you are not also a GG."

"A what? And who is Rocky?" Darla asked, suddenly confused.

"In the common parlance among some transgendered folks," the onetime practicing psychologist/counselor explained, "GG is a generally understood term for a person who is physically, that is genetically, female. Stands for 'Genetic Girl' and Rocky is how our new student prefers to be addressed. It is short for her last name of Rockwell."

"Jane?" Marie asked. "Just what has she done and why is she being sent to us?"

"That s at least business as usual for us, Marie," Jane said after taking a sip of her tea. "She has a history of stubborn intractability, and temper losses to the point of rage and violence. So far, she has only attacked males, and from what Ruth tells me, only males who were bigger than her."

"So that is the reason that I am still Diana," Diana interjected. "We think, based on everything we've been able to find out about her incidents, that she has no history of behaving violently towards other females."

"Based on her initial reactions to me," Jane added, "I think she is somewhat intimidated by strong female authority figures."

"Don't count on that too much," and this time it was definitely husband-Art speaking to wife-Jane, "Because we don't have any evidence and she might decide that authority is authority and react unpredictably. Be very careful when and precisely how hard you press her. And make damn certain that either Darla or I are there when you do decide to play 'mean old Aunt Jane' with her."

"Very well. As I was saying, Point 1 is to keep the household as feminine as ever. Hopefully, once we have a handle on her, we can carefully introduce males to her in controlled situations to get her past that violent reaction."

"Point 2 goes hand in hand with that. I do not want her coming into contact with anyone who might push her buttons in an uncontrolled manner until we have her more in hand."

"That means no Sandy," Darla commented. "No matter how you ask her to behave, she just cannot help herself. She is your biggest gun with the boys, but that is because the boys don't dare retaliate against her trash-talk for fear she will keep her promise to expose them."

"Excellent observation," Jane agreed. "I wasn't planning on her leaving the estate for at least a week, and certainly not before we have her agreement to the program and have something to hang over her head, but I agree with you, Dear. When we go to the salon the first time, Caro does the full treatment on this one."

"Point 3, Darla-dear, is that you must find ways to convince this student that being a girl is not only rewarding, but fun. Think teenaged girl, and when you come up with any ideas, run them past me. As I said, we are playing this one more reactively than I would with a boy, but that is as it must be. We need to find things she likes as well as things she does not. We cannot rely only upon negative reinforcement. We need both the carrot AND the stick."

"Teenage girl? That means boys, doesn't it?"

Jane's eyes went closed, her normally smooth brow wrinkling. "Oh god. Boys. I had not thought of that, but you are right. Oh well, at least with her I don't have to worry about those outsiders finding there's another boy beneath the petticoats."

"Point 4," Diane added, picking up the conversation, "is that we will have to decide whether to keep Darla around based on how Rocky. .,"

"PLEASE," Jane cut in, wincing, "Do NOT call her that."

"Very well," Diana said, her eyes twinkling, "Depending on how GiGi reacts to Darla. As we've noted, our new student does not have a great deal of feminine artifice and she may react in any number of ways to our oh-so-very-sweet-and-lovely Darla. Hopefully, she will come to see Darla as a role model to be emulated, but she might just as easily conclude that she is a threat or that she represents an unattainably high standard of feminine perfection. In either case, she may do everything she can to distance herself from Darla."

"I suppose," Jane muttered in frustration, "that we will have to do the naming ceremony with Old Tom, too. I had planned on foregoing that little ritual and simply employing the girl's real name, but she has steadfastly refused to acknowledge that name and *I* refuse to call her 'Miss Rockwell' or 'Gigi'. We'll pick a day when his son is not with him. I don't think she will feel aggressive against Old Tom."

"What is her real first name?" Darla wanted to know, and then burst out laughing with a sour-faced Jane told her. "Well, I can see how that name would be a trial for a girl in today's world. Okay, let me know when you think she will be willing to play along and I will christen her for you."

"Does that about cover it?" Jane asked, looking once more to her mate.

"I think so. As you said, we will have to play this one close and step softly. Make sure she doesn't feel so threatened that she breaks pattern and lashes out at one of us."

"That how she broke her nose? Someone gave better than he got?" Darla asked.

"No, Darla. She is a competitive modern pentathlete - a very good one according to her mother. In one of her early competitions, she drew a horse who was having a bad day and it refused a jump, unseating Miss Rockwell face first into the jump."

"Why hasn't she had surgery?"

"Her mother told me that she refused surgery because there was a slight chance that removing the damaged cartilage might degrade her breathing when she exercises. However, that nose is something else we will need to address with this child. Marie? See what you can do with stage makeup tomorrow during one of the dress up exercises. As to the original question of someone getting the better of her? That apparently has yet to happen. When this girl decides to fight, then she fights viciously and has, to this point, incapacitated each of her opponents before they could retaliate effectively against her."

"Momma Jane? You know I saw her on the train as Darryl, right? I know it is only a first impression based on very little data, but I am not sure that the threat of humiliation will work with this one. I can't really put in words why I feel that way, but I do."

Jane nodded. "As Diana has told me, it is difficult to use the potential humiliation of being exposed as a girl to threaten a girl. Oh, I hope we can jab at her ego when she does not perform to standard, maybe awaken and pinch her feminine pride, but that is all. For this student, I intend to be the stern but fair Victorian governess. Someone who not only disciplines, but rewards as well. The goal here is to help her get in touch with and begin to enjoy the gentler aspects of her femininity. That being the case, then we can't have expressing those feminine behaviors used as or perceived as a punishment with her as it often must be with my boys. That is how I hope to use Darla, dear, as a tool to show her that being feminine is a pleasant thing."

"I see. Well, when do we start the lessons?"

"Tomorrow is soon enough, dear. You can go up to your room and reacquaint yourself with your buttons and bows, then we'll have a nice quiet family evening." Jane started to stand and then thought of something. "Darla, if she saw you on the train, perhaps you should make yourself more of a brunette for this session. The fussy little blond debutante look is not going to have the impact on her that it does on the boys. Besides, if your coloring seemed closer to hers, it might make you more effective as a role model."

"Jane?" Diana interjected. "I think that is a good idea, but it might also be smart, at least initially, to have Darla play down her looks. That way, she might avoid appearing 'too perfect'. Then, at an opportune moment, have Darla shine. That might make Gigi think that there is something to this cosmetic witchery of Marie's."

"Tante Marie? Do you still have that selection of wigs brushed out? And appropriately tinted cosmetics? I will need some help picking one out and setting my look." When Marie nodded, Darla pouted extravagantly. "All this effort to make myself beautiful and NOW she wants me to hide my light under a silo."

"That's bushel, Darla," Diana said with a cheeky grin. "You hide your light under a 'bushel'."

"Won't work," Darla retorted, tongue firmly in cheek. "It would be like trying to hide Pamela Anderson in a training bra. Hiding looks like mine would require MUCH more than a mere bushel."

Darla was pleased to see Jane begin to really laugh for the first time since Darryl had stepped off the train. Perhaps things would go well after all.

 

 

 

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