A Time to Every Season

by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

 

Part II

 

Chapter 1: Audrey's Mom

Prudence Rockwell was, as Darla had discovered on the trip from the airport to the hospital, a formidable woman in her own right although not quite in Momma-Jane's class. Where Jane Thompson dominated by some internal force of will, this woman commanded attention and to some extent deference by her physical stature. She stood over six feet tall in flats, and carried one hundred and sixty-five very shapely pounds on her well toned and muscled frame. She had bequeathed her dark hair and eyes to her daughter. Her facial features were a bit too sharp and strong to be pretty, but she was a striking woman whose wide mouth was quick to smile. Darla decided she was going to like Audrey's mother, which was a surprise since she'd been half-way to disliking her after the doll tea party.

"I still can't get over seeing Rocky in such a femininely frou- frou nightgown, Jane. You must be the miracle worker Ruthie said you were," Prudence Rockwell said as she enjoyed her after dinner drink in the formal sitting room. "Lord knows that since she got too old for her governess, she has absolutely refused to consider anything remotely girlie in the way of apparel."

"She doesn't have much choice," Jane said with a twinkle. "And please, we call her Audrey now."

"I know," the taller woman said with a grin. "She told me and asked me to use that name while she is here."

"Good," Jane said, pleased. "In any case, I have assured her cooperation two ways now. One, she's promised to do as I say and I think her sense of honor is very well developed. You've done well there, Pru. Second, she wants to continue training very badly and so long as you stick to your guns about not supporting her at home, the only way she gets to train is to stay here and follow my rules."

"Well, that seems to work. I was pleased that she cared enough about Darla. . err. . .Darryl. . umm. . .what DO I call you when you're not on duty?" Pru asked the youngest female-looking person in the room. Audrey's mother knew about Darla's dual-identity because she had been taken into Jane's confidence before Audrey was accepted at Seasons House.

Darla giggled girlishly, just for effect. "Darla when I am Darla; Darryl when I am Darryl." she said, finishing up in Darryl's deeper tones. "Darla will be fine for now. You don't want to accidently slip up while Audrey is around."

"Anyway, I am pleased she cared enough to take that kind of risk. She never had any real friends back home." Prudence then fixed her gaze on Darla. "Are you REALLY a boy? Maybe it is living with my daughter who is more like a son, but you really seem too much the fine lady to be a boy."

"Just my Momma-Jane's excellent training, Ma'am, and a set of genes that left me way down on the low side of the manly-size power curve."

"Jane? You're pulling my leg, right? I cannot believe this is a boy."

"Oh, just a minute and I will prove it to you," Darla said, standing. "Just give me a minute to take off my . ."

"WAIT!!!!" Prudence screeched, shock on her face.

"What?" Darla said, turning back to her stepmother's guest. She started to say something else, but then saw the knowing look on Jane's face. *Guess the jig is up.* She began to giggle. "I was going to take off my WIG, Ms. Rockwell, and then show you my driver's license. NOTHING else! As if Momma-Jane would stand still for such goings on in her home." Darla gave a very insulted sniff - the impact of which was destroyed by her gamine grin and incipient giggle. "What kind of girl do you think I am, anyway?"

Jane permitted the laughter to die down before she answered. "Cheeky, dear. Very cheeky."

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

Darla lay in her bed thinking about the night's conversation. She had been right about one thing. She liked Audrey's mother. Evidently, it had not been easy for the former athlete when her husband had died, leaving her to raise a young daughter while competing internationally as one of the top half dozen or so female middle distance runners in the United States.

Fortunately, she'd had a sponsor, and had been able to hire a nanny/governess to watch over her little girl while she trained and competed. Pru had been good enough to compete as part of the national team in her events, but never quite good enough to make the final leap to the Olympic team.

Finally, she'd turned her knowledge of the international sports world and her business degree to sports business. She'd started as a figure model for their advertising shoots, but had worked her way up the ladder from there and was now a senior vice president for one of the many athletic shoe companies. Now, she had the security she'd always wanted for her child.

Except that her daughter was a teenager and more than just something of stranger to her. Most of the parenting had been done by the now-deceased governess she'd hired right after her husband's death.

*Near as I can tell, Pru was as surprised about the reception of that silly horse as Audrey had been to get it. She intimated that as a child, Audrey didn't like dolls and such. In fact, she told Jane that her daughter refused to play with them at all. And yet, as Audrey tells it, no one ever bought or offered her any. Strange.*

Sighing, Darla pulled the comforter up to her chin, rolled over and fell fast asleep. It had been a very stressful twenty-four hours.

 

Chapter 2: Boys Will Be Girls

Darla was finishing up a paper on her laptop when she heard a rather soft knock on her door. "Come," she called out as she completed the email that would send her paper to the professor in charge of her distance learning class.

She spun in her seat and was rather surprised to see Jane standing in the doorway. The knock had not been at all like Jane Thompson's signature "open the door now or else" knock, and she usually came in and got right to the point. Darla could not remember many times when she had seen her Mother uncertain or tentative, but she most definitely was both of those at that very moment. "Please come in, Momma-Jane, and have a seat," she said indicating the one comfortable chair in the room. Then she closed her laptop and walked over to her bed where she seated herself and assumed a lotus position. "What's bothering you, Mom?"

Instead of taking the offered seat, Jane walked over to look out the window at the gardens. Now Darla was certain that something was bothering Jane. Coming to the room before her plan of action was firm in her own mind was not at all typical of Jane. Darla was about to say something else, just to break the silence if for no other reason, when Jane started talking quietly.

"We didn't really think through all the implications of taking on a girl student, especially not those issues that are directly impacted by *you* playing the big sister role."

"Uh, oh," Darla said. "What did we forget?"

"Diana and I were over visiting with Audrey," Jane told her, "and then the nurse came in. She shooed us all out because she needed some privacy."

The rest of her explanation was interrupted by a bustling Marie, carrying in a plastic handled shopping bag bearing the logo of a nearby drug store.

"So, is our young lady ready to play her part?" she asked, making her way to Darla's bathroom.

"I, ah, haven't finished telling her about it yet," Jane admitted.

"Why, Jane, it's not like you to stall," Marie chided her.

"About what?" Darla asked, becoming more concerned.

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

Diana was coming up the stairs to find Jane and Marie, so she could help them in breaking the bad news to their be-skirted son.

"I HAVE TO WHAAAATTTT??!?!" The undeniably masculine bellow of outrage that assaulted her eardrums as she topped the stairs left little doubt that breaking the news was no longer an issue.

*Guess Janie jumped the gun. Now, why is it that I get the distinct impression that Darryl is not all that enthused with this particular idea?*

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

"You see," Marie was explaining, "when Jane and I were at Eastmore, I would always notice when one of the real girls was . . . uncomfortable, and we could help her. The special students . ."

"You mean the boys in skirts," Darla interrupted, sourly.

"You do that so well, darling," Marie chided, "Just remember to use just that tone of voice regularly when you have your bouts of PMS. Now, if I might continue?" Darla scowled and gave a barely perceptible movement of her head that Marie chose to interpret as consent. "The special students were typically put with the, shall we say, less physically advanced regular students whenever possible."

"That not only denied them their masculinity," Jane put in, "but also the supposed benefits of their age. They had to act like immature pre-adolescents or draw attention to themselves which was precisely the last thing they wanted."

"And almost all of our boys graduated back into trousers before their feminine personas would have had to mature in order to preserve the masquerade," Marie resumed, "So, for the most part, they, and therefore we, did not have to deal with the monthly expression of femininity at Eastmore. With the students we've had here at Seasons House, the issue never came up. The younger boys would never think to question why their big sisters were never, um . . . moody, and of course there was no real need to fake it as part of their own training. The little darlings were already moody enough just dealing with Jane's day-to-day program."

"I still don't see why I have to go to such lengths, wearing whatever it is Marie has in that bag and so forth. Can't I just, oh, complain about cramps and go to bed early or something?" Darla glared at the trio ranged across the coffee table from her in Jane's comfortable sitting room. They had retreated here after Darla had balked when Marie had attempted to show her how to use the various appliances and pads procured for this new masquerade.

"Of course you see why, Darla," Diana put in soothingly, "You just don't like what that portends for you, but if I HAVE to state the obvious, it is because Audrey might reasonably be expected to notice any inconsistencies, and ask questions we cannot yet answer. Heavens, we may never be able to answer them."

Jane took up the argument. "Look, Darla, Audrey is in the middle of what has apparently been a very uncomfortable menses right now, made all the worse because she is not allowed to see to her own feminine hygiene. She's got a nurse coming in at regular intervals to do that for her, and is acutely embarrassed at having to be handled that way. She is VERY aware of that aspect of being a woman just now."

"Momma-Jane," Darla pleaded, "Can't we just ignore the whole thing? I mean, IF she asks me about it, I can tell her that it is no big deal for me."

"Only a male would dare think such blasphemy let alone say it aloud, petite," Marie put in with just a touch of disgust in her tone. "Trust me, cherie, it is a big deal. Even when it is not difficult, it is messy and annoying."

"So, I am one of those women who is really hit hard by the thing?" Darla retorted, unable to bring herself even to say the word aloud.

"No, dear, you're not going to be 'hit hard' as you say at all. Those stereotypically harsh menstrual periods are, for the most part, distinctly atypical experiences for modern women. You're going to have a relatively easy time of it," Jane replied, her face taking on the stern mask that had cowed many a young male ego, but that had, unfortunately for her current goals, lost much of its power over her own child.

"You mean all this acting irritable and wearing bulky pads and groaning with cramps Marie threatened me with is an *easy* time?" Darla fired back, still looking for a way out that did not include trying to act quite THAT female.

"Of course, dear. Be thankful we don't need you to fake a really bad menses, but that might call as much unwelcome attention to you as would showing no real indication of having a period."

"I will get some makeup with a green cast to it and lay in bed groaning and complaining for two or three days," Darla offered, only partially in jest.

"Hah! As if Jane would tolerate such behavior on a regular basis," Diana snorted. "Remember, she may well be here for six months. That is six, maybe seven periods if the schedule works out."

"I don't see as there is any other choice," Jane put in forcefully. "Either you agree to become an 'Initiate of the Lunar Feminine Mysteries' or we will have to find some pretext to send you away for the remainder of Audrey's stay with me. The latter is not the best course for several reasons, not the least of which is that Audrey is starting to trust and like you. You may well be the key in all of this for her, but we cannot have her finding out that her role model for young feminine womanhood is not really a girl. That would most likely put paid to any hope we have of helping her."

"The only other alternative, Darla," Diana put in, "is for Jane to send her home now before she can notice anything out of the ordinary about you. It would be far worse if she were to realize now that you are a male and more feminine than she is. I think it would let her rationalize giving up and just waiting out her remaining months to her majority."

"I can't do that," Jane corrected. "I made a bargain with her and she has, thus far, done her part. I know this is your home, darling - I made Seasons House yours when I made you mine, but surely you can see that sending her home without just cause would be grossly unfair of me . . . of US. The only two acceptable courses of action are that Darla must simulate periods or she must go back to school."

Darla thought about that. She had come to realize that she liked Audrey, too. More than she had expected to like her, in fact. There was something fragile, scared and a little bit sweet inside the big, physically powerful and imposing girl that called to Darla - something that made her want to protect Audrey in ways that were both masculine and maternal.

*There's that 'best of both worlds' thing again,* she thought.

The femininely rigged out young man almost asked Jane if she was simply saying those things to get Darla's compliance with her plans, but knew that was not fair. While Jane was not above a goodly bit of deceit and manipulation, and more than a few half-truths to prod her students in whatever direction she felt they needed to go, she had foresworn such things with her child after the death of Darla's brother. If Jane said something to Darla, particularly about another student, then she meant every word. Which meant, that Jane DID believe that this was important.

"Hell," she grumbled, conceding the point. "Maybe if I look pathetic enough and you tell me to quit moping and take it like a man. . I mean, like a woman, she'll feel more of a kinship to me."

"Thank you, dear," Jane beamed at her child.

"Okay, so what do I REALLY have to do?" Darla asked. "Marie showed me what she bought at the drug store and sort of explained their . . umm, application, but that's not enough for me to pull off this acting gambit of yours, Momma-Jane. As my drama friends at school would say, I need to get into my character's head. . . or in this case, into her body."

Diana stood. "This does NOT need to concern me. I am old enough to post-menopausal. So if you will excuse me. . "

"Sit down, Daddy-Di!" Darla ordered. "If I do it, YOU do it. Fair is fair."

"Now, I don't think. . ."

"Sit down, Artemis," Jane ordered. "Or I WILL make you do it. You still owe me a forfeit for that last bet. I was going to save it for our six month anniversary, something we might both enjoy, but if you insist. . ."

Diana sat, looking very aggrieved. "I told you my name is not Artemis anymore," but the others ignored her as they concentrated on Darla.

"I repeat," Darla said, "What do I have to do to be really convincing as a girl having a period."

"What do you mean, dear?" Jane asked, relief washing over her now that Darla had agreed to this stratagem. "Marie was already going through that when you. . . well, when you resisted the idea rather vocally. That is all we ever did for the girls at Eastmore - show them how to use those products properly."

"Not quite, Momma-Jane. What you did at Eastmore, and what Marie attempted to do for me in my room was demonstrating the mechanics of doing the 'girl during her period' thing, but that is not the same as reacting and behaving like a girl who is having a period. So, let's have you two experts take me through a period day-by- day, since as I understand it, each day is different."

"Take you through it?" Jane asked, her demeanor suddenly cautious and wary.

"In detail," her daughter said firmly, and looking well pleased at having passed along a bit of her own discomfiture to her self- possessed mother. "Day-by-day, step-by-step. Diana can take notes and Marie can pitch in with anything you forget. After all, she's been with you long enough to know how you behave when your time of the month comes. Like Mother, like daughter, right?"

"In detail," Jane repeated and then cast a glance at Marie, who was not looking nearly as gleeful as she had moments earlier. "That is rather. . . well, intimate, dear. You aren't, after all, REALLY a girl. Surely, we can do this without quite so much. . .nitty-gritty."

"If I were really your daughter, Momma-Jane, you wouldn't have to go through it all with me because I would be really feeling whatever it is women feel, right? Only, I don't HAVE those feelings to guide or direct my responses. And it is not like Daddy-Di can do much for me. This isn't like when he bought me my first box of condoms," Darla stopped to enjoy Jane's sharp glare at her spouse before continuing. "You're the one who said this little drama has to be done and done correctly, right? Suppose I have the wrong pad or whatever the heck they are called? Or react like it is day one on day three? Wouldn't Audrey notice that?"

"Audrey evidently uses tampons," Jane said without thinking.

"Well, Darla can't," her child said with a giggle. "So, c'mon you two. Start talking."

A while later, Darla realized that this was the first time she had ever seen Aunt Jane tentative and uncertain TWICE in one day.

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

As she undressed for bed, Jane wasn't sure how she felt about the day's activities. Being honest with herself, she had underestimated Darla's reluctance in this case. *What is it about a woman's period that causes such a reaction in the male?* she wondered. Even her open-minded mate had tried to dodge the issue today.

Of course, Darla had gotten a measure of retaliation by demanding that the two older women describe the experience in detail for her. For all her forthrightness and, yes, intrusiveness when dealing with a student, Jane was still a very private person. It had been very . . .well, uncomfortable wasn't strong enough a word, but it was all she could come up with, talking about such things with Darryl. And for Jane, it HAD been Darryl and not Darla at that point. It would have been a good deal less difficult if it HAD been Darla. *Except, as he said, if Darryl had been Darla, she would not have needed to be told about things she'd already experienced.*

"I thought that went as well as it could have gone," Diana said as she came out of the bath, a towel turbaned about her hair and another covering her torso. "At least Darla felt good enough about it to joke a bit at the end, although I must admit, that falsetto soprano of hers is atrocious!"

Jane winced at the memory. She had always liked watching old Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald movies on the classic movie channel, but hearing her child fracture "Oh, sweet mystery of life at last you've found me. Oh, I understand so much I didn't want to know," had probably ruined that little pleasure of Jane's forever. "I wanted to throttle her," Jane growled, turning bared teeth at her mate.

"Just think what Audrey would have done to her in the same circumstance," Diana said laughing.

"It is NOT funny!" Jane retorted.

"Certainly wasn't funny to Darla, at least at first. At least now, she's in a better frame of mind for the challenge."

"It should not have been that big production," Jane said, inwardly cringing at the contradictory position she was taking. "She is, after all, only faking it."

"I believe thespians call that 'verisimilitude' - knowing the entire person of their character and not just the words of their part. Face it, dear, boys don't know much about menstruation, except to be very cautious around their girl friends a few days every lunar cycle. Just think how you'd react if you were having a difficult time of the month and I came up to you and said, 'Oh, you poor dear. I know exactly how you feel, and of course I'll help you.'" Diana barked a laugh at Jane's darkening glare. "You'd kosh me one over the head with the nearest blunt object to hand. Like I said. Boys just don't know much about that aspect of women's lives. Ready for bed, dear?" Diana asked, yawning broadly.

Jane settled herself into bed, still thinking about what had happened that day and what Diana had said. *It's just too bad there isn't a pill that would give males the symptoms of a period,* she mused. *Mood swings, nausea, bloating, fatigue and hypersensitivity. Maybe even make them leak something.* The vision of some of her more recalcitrant charges caught in the throes of such a finely feminine condition brought that famous Thompson smile to her lips.

*Ought to be required by law for every post-pubescent male in the world as part of their schooling,* she told herself as her fertile imagination warmed to the idea, *Each one individually supervised during THEIR period by some responsible female, of course. And then twice a year until their wife or significant other is post-menopausal.* Then Jane remembered Diana's remark about "knowing just how you feel," and decided that *While we're at it, any male making a condescending or stupid remark would instantly get a double dose from his responsible female. Lord, talk about sensitivity training in action.*

And with that happy thought, Jane drifted off to sleep.

 

Chapter 3: Darla and the Wrath of the Moon Goddess

Audrey sat quietly, considering the various offerings on the plate before her. All soft foods, requiring little in the way of chewing because chewing was difficult and still a bit painful. The device she wore on her face while her tissues bonded with the artificial nose cartilage left her little flexibility in her upper face. It was intended to prevent her facial muscles from putting undue strain on the fleshy areas around her nose. As a result, she had to chew very deliberately which usually jarred the bruised areas near her eyes. No more Subway sandwiches until the device came off. She and Darla had caught hell for that, too.

But it had been worth it!

The device braced along her upper lip, so she really couldn't move her lips to make a seal on anything. As a result, she couldn't use a spoon very well or a straw at all. Basically, all she could do was open her mouth, pop in whatever it was she was going to eat and chew it very carefully. Liquids had to be no more than luke warm because she had to sort of pour whatever it was down her throat. No sipping hot coffee or tea or soup. *Heck, I can't even blow on the stuff to cool it. Good thing Miss Marie is such a great cook, or this would be a lot worse. At least even Ms. Jane has to accept fact. No way could I meet her standards for table manners eating like this. Still, I really am getting tired of drinking from a cream pitcher.*

Audrey had been 'home' at Seasons House for the better part of a week now. Ms. Thompson had insisted she finish out her 'sentence' once she'd returned home, but had cut back on the heels and the corsets. It was clear that the device also cut down on Audrey's peripheral vision and Diana had voiced the concern that "she might not be able to see well enough to move safely in unfamiliar shoes, Jane."

Audrey had blessed Diana in her prayers every night since for that bit of unthinking kindness. Fortunately, she'd only been in the period dress for another day or so while her Mom had been there. That had been rather fun, truth to tell. Audrey's mother had never seen her daughter rigged out quite so femininely and had made quite a big deal of how Audrey had looked. Oddly enough, Pru's compliments had seemed genuine and they'd made Audrey feel. . . well. . kind of nice. She'd almost wished that she could have worn some color other than black, blue, purple and yellow on her face, just to see how her mother would have reacted to that.

With a mental shrug at what hadn't been, Audrey turned her attention once more to breakfast.

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

Jane watched as Audrey did her level best to eat the scrambled eggs at least somewhat decorously, but it still looked like a baby playing "airplane and hanger" with her food. Darla was studiously avoiding make eye-contact with her mother and Jane knew why. *She's trying not to see my signal to start her act - trying to put it off to the last possible moment. Still, it has to be done and it has to be a slow buildup over the day, soooooo. . . "

Her face completely composed, and her upper body language giving nothing away, Jane reached out with her foot and gave Darla a sharp kick in the shins. The girl's face flew up in surprise and Jane could tell that her daughter had managed to stifle an exclamation at the last moment. *Gotcha!* Jane thought, her wicked smile slowly blooming as she regarded her daughter. Casually, Jane raised a single brow, the challenge in that look and that smile something Darla could not deny.

*Crazy as it sounds, it feels like she is asking me if I am man enough to be on the rag,* Darla thought ruefully. *Oh, well, I DID promise.*

"Darla," Jane said firmly, beginning the agreed upon gambit.

Darla spun on Jane and snapped out "What?!" at her.

"Darla, dear," Jane continued as she buttered a hot croissant, "I expect a more pleasant expression on your face at breakfast. It is the beginning of a new day, and should be greeted accordingly."

"Yeah, right."

"Darla!" Jane bit out the name sharply. "That is hardly an improvement. Perhaps helping Marie with the dishes will improve your appreciation of the importance of this meal."

"That's not fair!"

"Darla Anne, Go to your room," Jane ordered, her voice suddenly soft yet fierce.

"But. . ."

"NOT . . . ONE. . . MORE . . .WORD, Darla ANNE!" Jane said, putting heavy emphasis on the child-name.

Darla dropped her napkin into the middle of her unfinished food and said, "Fine!" Only the glisten Audrey could see in her eyes as she stiffly walked from the room betrayed the hurt she was trying to hide within her anger.'

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

Luncheon, impossible though it had seemed to Audrey, had been even worse. Darla's behavior had not improved after breakfast. She seemed irritable and snapped at the least provocation. Her favorite word seemed to be "WHAT?!" delivered like a knife thrust at anyone who dared so much as look at her. Audrey had even heard her being disrespectful to Miss Marie in the kitchen, which was amazing because Audrey knew how much Darla adored the French Canadian lady. But this time, however, she had done it up, but good.

"For the last time, fetch some ice to cool Audrey's tea, Darla," Jane said very coldly.

"WHY?" Darla complained bitterly. "She can WALK - I've SEEN her!!"

"DARLA!" Jane nearly yelled and Audrey jumped for it was the first time she had ever heard the self possessed and disciplined woman raise her voice like that..

Darla jumped to her feet, her chair nearly falling over behind her. "Oh, all right!" she bitched and turned toward the kitchen.

Moments later, she returned with Jane's best silver ice bucket clutched in her hands. As she tried to set it on the table, the accompanying tongs bumped a nearly filled glass, knocking it over and causing Darla to dump the ice across the snowy table cloth as she twitched in a fruitless attempt to avert the disaster.

With an audible and emotional "Damn it!" Darla stabbed the offending tongs into the ice left in the bucket and reached for the spilled glass. Audrey, however, picked it up just before Darla touched the delicate crystal, which was likely the only thing that saved it from a fast visit to the gardens - very fast, at least, for any pieces that might make it through the glass of the doors.

"Darla," Jane said quietly, "I think you should spend the rest of the day in your room, starting now. I do not wish to see your face until tomorrow or until you can behave civilly, which ever takes longer."

Darla stared at the older woman for what felt life a very long time, and for a moment, Audrey thought she was going to make things even worse, but at the last minute, Darla's control crumpled and she ran from the room. Audrey was certain she heard a sob as the dining room door went shut, but she wasn't quite certain.

She turned back to Ms. Thompson to find the older woman regarding her closely. "I apologize for that display," she finally said. "Darla is ordinarily a wonderful young woman and a pleasure to be around, but one day a month. . " Jane shook her head. "She can be an absolute bi. . . I mean, pill."

*You meant bitch, and I rather agree. Nice to know Little Miss 'Just have fun with all this' isn't quite so perfect as she seems on first glance. I can trust a girl who snarls at the moon now and then.* "That's okay, Ms. Thompson. I understand how it is."

"Well, it usually only lasts no more than a day. She should be over this by tomorrow morning." Jane sighed. "I really must do something about that outburst, but I know the poor dear didn't really mean anything by it."

For her part, Audrey was momentarily taken aback by this revelation about the stern Ms. Thompson. *So, she does see that there are extenuating circumstances. Was she really asking me for an input? Maybe. I wonder?* "Can't you, well, sort of overlook this, this one time?"

Intrigued, Jane regarded Audrey. *None of my boys would ever have stepped into that breech. How far is she willing to go?* "Is that what you think I should do?"

Discomfited by Jane's suddenly focused scrutiny, Audrey resisted the urge to squirm. "Well, um, I don't know. What's the, uh, harm? It's not like she really meant any of that."

"Don't stammer, dear," Jane said, not unkindly. "Think what you want to say and then say it clearly. And answer your own question, would you please?

"Oh. Ah . . sorry," *What does she expect me to say? Darla was out of line, but it's not like she behaves that way every day. Oh, maybe that is the problem. . .* "The harm would be that . . . there is a . . . slippery slope to lack of discipline. If this justifies it now, what else will justify . . . impolite manners next time her . . . time of the month is difficult?"

"Very good, dear. A lady must be a lady regardless of the time of the month," Jane beamed, "Now, what do you propose that we do?"

"Me?" Audrey almost squeaked in surprise. "Why are you asking me?"

"The best way to learn is by teaching, my dear," Jane said gently. "Are you not learning to behave as a lady should? That will someday involve rearing your own children. How will you discipline them . . . especially when you don't want to because you know there is at least a partial justification but know that some response is still necessary?"

*Children of my OWN? ME??!? Is she KIDDING?!? Not bloody likely!* Then she saw Jane's brow rise in query, and realized the older woman still wanted an answer. She took a deep breath and tried to organize her thoughts. *Nothing too hard on Darla, because dammit, she CAN'T help feeling that way! Oh, I know!* "Oh, um . . oops. Sorry again. Well, staying in her room would be more comfort than punishment right now, but you could declare it to be punishment anyway, sort of 'for the record'. And perhaps, since she used a naughty word . . . a vow of silence for tomorrow?

Jane clapped her hands in approval. "Excellent! That's the very thing. Frankly, on her second day she is usually very quiet anyway. We'll just make that official. But now I need to help Marie with the dishes myself, since Darla is . . 'indisposed'. Will you be all right by yourself for a while?"

Still thinking about what she'd just done, Audrey felt the need for a bit of solitude. "Yes, fine, thank you. I think I will get a wrap and go sit in the garden for a while, if you don't mind."

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

Breakfast the following morning was a silent affair all round. Audrey had never quite realized how much of the pleasant chatter around the table had originated from the normally cheerful and bubbly girl. Now, she was sitting at her seat, more playing with the two pieces of dry toast she'd taken than really trying to eat them. Somehow, the sun shining in through the pretty curtains did not seem quite so bright as it had a day or two before.

Marie bustled in with a steaming cup that she set before Darla. "Here you go, cherie," she said, "A cup of my special herbal tea will put you to rights." Darla turned a wan smile on the hovering maid and then reached up to kiss her on the cheek.

*Nicely done,* Jane thought as she watched the little tableau play out. *Darla and Marie played that well, and Darla's makeup is perfect. It looks like she tried to use too heavy a hand to cover up that washed out look, except the washed out look is as much an illusion as the 'failed' attempt to cover it up.*

Audrey thought about her first few monthlies, and remembered the vile soda crackers that her governess would make her chew until they were a sickly sweet mush in her mouth that made her nausea even worse. *Glad I grew out of that. God, but I hate soda crackers.*

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

Darla had not arrived in the dining room when Jane and Diana stepped through the door. They immediately took their seats and Jane gestured for Audrey to do the same.

Surprised and a bit concerned, Audrey looked to Jane. "Aren't we waiting for Darla?"

"She sent me a note, dear," Jane replied as she picked up her napkin. "She is. . . well, she won't be joining us for luncheon, I am afraid. Don't worry. She'll be better shortly."

*Especially after she devours the huge picnic I saw Marie packing for her. . * Diana thought as she tried to hide her grin behind her own napkin

"This isn't unexpected," Jane continued. "Darla usually handles this by napping the afternoon away. When she awakens, she will find that the worst is over. At least, we all hope she will."

 

Chapter 4: Audrey's Secrets

Things gradually improved after that. Darla was still quieter than she had been those first few days, and she seemed to tire more quickly than before, but it wasn't long before the sweet nature, quick smile and sneaky streak of mischief were back. In fact, the girl seemed determine to make up for her nasty behavior by showering Audrey with attention and care, until the bigger girl was ready to choke the little brunette.

So, the news that Audrey's mask could come off was greeted with relief for more than just one reason two days after Darla's monthly visitor departed.

Audrey was ready to give thanks in church that she could now wash her own dishes - anything - just so long as Darla would stop trying to MOTHER her! However, every silver lining has its cloud, and this cloud came in the form of the restrictions the reconstructive surgeon placed on Audrey's physical activities. "Nothing high impact for at least another month, and NO grimacing either. Keep your face smooth so that you don't put any undue stress on the prosthesis."

As it turned out, Diana's little gym had a stair climber as well as one of the elliptical motion running/skiing machines, and that would have been great. Better than great.

Except that Jane had sent Darla down to watch Audrey work out to make sure she did not grimace. *I can't even open my mouth sideways but she's calling me on it,* Darla complained as she started another mountain series on the stair climber.

"Audrey! Don't Grimace!"

Audrey pasted a smile on her lips and panted out, "I . . AM . . NOT. . .Grim. . .acing."

"I say you were, and I'm the one Aunt Jane put in charge!"

"Bitch," Audrey snapped out.

"You bet, and smile when you say that, girl friend."

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

Marie slipped into Audrey's room while the family was at breakfast. It was shopping day, and Marie wanted to get a head start on her morning chores. She had visions of a nice lunch in town and a bit of gossip with a friend, which meant she needed to shave an hour or so off her morning routine. *Good thing it is Darla's morning to serve breakfast,* she thought as she moved around the room, doing what little needed to be done. Audrey was such a neat young lady. "She has so much going for her,* Marie thought, *And if I am any judge, that new nose of hers is going to make her into quite the heartbreaker.*

Because it wasn't QUITE perfect, Marie smoothed the satiny coverlet atop Audrey's bed and then plumped the pillows. *Don't have to check for semen stains with this one,* she thought with a mischievous grin. She made a quick tour of the room, checking the windows to see if the glass needed to be cleaned on the outside again before winter when she saw a strange shadow on the drapery of the east facing window. Moving behind the curtain, she looked up and saw something pinned to the window side of the drape.

She pulled it down and was amazed to see that it was a pair of very silky white thong panties, decorated with pink rosebuds along the waistband and outlining the edges. It was still damp from having evidently been hand-washed. A purely feminine sigh of sensual pleasure escaped from Marie as she examined the pretty bit of feminine lingerie.

*Wonder why she has it up there? More to the point, why is she washing it herself? She knows that I see to the care of this household's delicate washables and fripperies. Why, she's been sending me the ones that Jane has purchased for her.* At that moment, she thought of something and frowned for a moment. Then she checked the back of the waistband. Brenda Franson had a trademark stitched into every piece of lingerie she sold in her "Milady's Closet" and this piece did not. That meant that these had been purchased elsewhere and Jane simply did not do that.

*That means that these are Audrey's own, and yet, I saw the . . foundation garments the girl brought with her from home. And she wasn't wearing these when she arrived, so she must have somehow slipped them in here. That begs the question why she thought she had to sneak them in. hmmmmmmm.*

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

Jane watched as Diana packed her bags. "I wish you didn't have to go back to Providence," she repeated.

Diana closed the large bag and looked up. "I wish I didn't have to go either, love, but the fellow who was covering for me was in an auto accident, and it is my course. The students deserve to have someone who knows what the heck he's talking about teach them."

"I know," Jane sighed. "It is just that you're needed here, too. I need you . . "

"Glad you know it!" Diana shot back in Art's voice, a thoroughly and incongruously masculine leer beaming through the feminine cosmetic artistry.

"Oh you! You know very well what I meant. I do need you that way, but I also need your help with Audrey. Not only that, but Darla needs you, too, perhaps even more than I do. That period scenario really threw her for a loop."

"Well, I will call her regularly, too."

"She does tend to talk things out with you that she hesitates to bring to me," Jane said, a bit of jealousy insinuating into her voice.

"Well," Diana said throatily, tossing her hair flirtatiously. "I AM her father!"

Both women giggled at that, but then Diana became more serious. "She also knows that I understand much of what she deals with from experiences you don't share, dear."

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

With Diana gone, it fell to Marie to join Jane for a late night brandy in the upstairs office. Marie knew that Jane needed to unwind, but her discipline would keep her from drinking alone. It was a role Marie had filled in the past, but had relinquished to Art since Jane's marriage.

"Jane?" Marie started, "How did Audrey react when you took her to Brenda's place for new lingerie?"

"NEW lingerie? Marie, dear, that stuff she brought with her isn't lingerie. Why, I hesitate to use the epithet 'underwear' when describing those abominations." Jane gave an exaggerated shudder of distaste before grinning at her longtime friend and confidante. "About the same as the boys, dear. With a good deal of embarrassment and a bit of fear. Later, she became rather disdainful. Sort of a 'Waste your money if you want.' reaction. She only seems to wear what I bought when I tell her to do so, which is a shame."

"You think so?" Marie asked, hiding a grin as best she could.

"Well, I had hoped for a different response. You know yourself that even before we went to the lingerie boutique we had decided that the standard approach we used on the boys wasn't right for Audrey."

"I know," Marie did grin now, remembering the many horrified boys who had faced that uniquely feminine bastion at Jane's command. "It was fun to totally immerse the poor darlings in flounces, frills and lace - fragile delicacies that would never allow them to relax or take their clothes for granted - but we're not trying to torment Audrey into submission."

Jane closed her eyes and pinched at the bridge of her nose trying to ward off an incipient headache. "Just so. For Audrey, we required sleek sensuality. Secret sexiness that made HER always aware that she was a woman. But . . . "

"But she always wore the plain white armor she brought with her unless we forced her into the sensual scanties." *At least, we thought so, until I found that so-carefully hidden thong this morning. Now, what should I do next? Tell Jane?* Marie reflected on that for a moment before coming up with a plan. "How strange when she really does have the figure to look very nice in the pretty ones."

Jane chuckled. "Isn't that the truth. You know, Brenda Franson was fully prepared to do her regular first student visit routine with her. When Audrey was being fitted for new brassieres, Brenda came roaring out of the back, with the strangest look on her face. She hurried up to me and whispered, 'Jane! This one has real bosoms!' Like she was afraid I didn't already know that."

Laughter burbled up out of Marie. "Well, what did she expect for a seventeen year old girl?"

"I. . .ah. . .well, I may have forgotten to tell Brenda that," Jane replied demurely, her dark eyes dancing over the rim of her snifter.

"Oh, you sneak," Marie chided. "By the way, did you know that all her new brassieres are two inches and a whole cup size larger than the ones she brought with her? She's gone from a 34B to a 36C and I don't think she's grown."

"I hadn't noticed," Jane said, suddenly thoughtful. "Another ploy to look unfeminine or something related to her athletics?"

"A properly fitted sports bra would do her more good than trying to crush herself like that."

"True enough. The question is, what do we do with this information? It may be nothing more than a girl who has never bothered to be properly measured and fitted for a bra. Or perhaps more likely, one who doesn't pay attention to such things."

"I can't believe that," Marie snorted. "She doesn't even have a larger sized one for her time of the month. Look, Jane, since I do the laundry, maybe I can raise the issue with her without making a big deal of it. Hint that maybe she might want to get some white practical stuff in the right size."

"I'd tell her to throw the things away, but we've been making such progress by taking a less confrontational tack with this one."

"I'll deal with it, dear," Marie replied, well pleased with her plan.

 

Chapter 5: Audrey's Darker Secrets

Audrey looked into her mirror and tried to imagine what she would look like when the bruising finally went away. The worst of the swelling was gone down, leaving her with a technicolor face like a human mandrill. It felt strange, looking at that pert little bit where her nose had been. She turned sideways and tried to look at her profile with her peripheral vision. She wasn't sure, but Audrey thought she might actually be kind of cute when all was said and done.

She was trying to figure out just how she felt about 'being cute' when a knock sounded at her door. It was too soft to be Darla and lacked the imperious demand affected my Ms. Thompson. "Come in," she called and then silently congratulated herself on her deduction when a smiling Marie entered the room.

"Just gathering up the laundry, dear," she said as she bustled into the bathroom, her arms filled with clean towels. She came back out carrying the contents of Audrey's clothes hamper. "You know, dear," Marie said as she started sorting the clothing into one of several net bags she had also carried in. "I've noticed that your new bras are bigger than the ones you brought with you. Wouldn't you like to replace them with ones that fit?"

Marie had to stifle a giggle as she saw Audrey tamp back an exclamation of pleasure at the thought of more, new and pretty undies, and tried to affect a disinterested air. "Oh, they're not so bad, and they have a good deal of wear left in them."

"I, um, noticed that the lingerie you brought with you was," and Marie held one of the offending articles up, "well, durable at best. That's the ONLY redeeming aspect of these things."

Audrey turned her face away, hiding what emotion, Marie wondered. "Uh, yes, that's what I, um, well, what I was told to wear.

"Really?" Marie pounced on that. "But for heavens sake, girl, by whom? Surely it wasn't part of Jane's instructions to your mother. Jane believes a woman should feel and BE feminine all the time, and delicate scanties are a big part of that. Or," Marie held up one of the barely-there teddies purchased at Milady's Closet and giggled girlishly. "a very small part, as the case may be!

"I noticed," Audrey replied, struggling to appear mature and aloof on this subject. "Those things she made me get at the boutique were . . . I guess delicate would be as good a word as any."

"But they feel so nice, and naughty at the same time, don't they?" Marie asked, grinning. "I just LOVE them."

"You wear them, too?" Audrey was dumbfounded.

"Of course I do," Marie sniffed, "I'm a woman and I like feeling feminine and mysterious - like I have a special secret no one else can know. Pretty lingerie makes me feel like that."

Barely able to swallow, her throat had gone so dry, Audrey could barely whisper. "You really do wear them?"

Smiling devilishly, Marie winked. "Sure do, and you know what else?" and here the pretty French Canadian dropped her voice to a teasing whisper of her own, "So does Jane."

"MS THOMPSON??"

Marie made an broad 'X' across her ample bosom. "Cross my heart. Remember, I do everyone's laundry. You have NO secrets from your laundress."

Audrey thought of the pieces she so carefully hand washed herself, both to keep them a secret, but more importantly, to keep them pretty. She decided to check this out more deeply. "Don't you, um, feel sort of . . . indecent sometimes?"

"Of course, dear," Marie said with a wicked smile, "But that's what makes them so enjoyable. Every woman likes to think that she's a bit more sensual than proper manners allow. Why, there are even times we might wear something that isn't even comfortable, even when no one else will ever know, just because it's so deliciously, femininely sexy and, what did you say? Indecent. Yes, that's it precisely."

"I know what you mean. Those underwire bras can be . . . distracting."

"Quit bragging, girl," Marie laughed. "Though you're right, the boys at the mall were certainly distracted when you wore one last time we went to the salon."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. I meant that they can be uncomfortable."

"Oh, they're not so bad. No worse than, oh, than I imagine some of those thong panties that are all the rage might be.

Audrey felt a chill run through her veins. Whatever made Marie bring that up? "Thong panties?"

Marie set down the clothes she was sorting and came over to sit beside Audrey on the bed. Taking a suddenly cold hand in her own, Marie looked Audrey in the eye. "Dear, I have a confession to make. I started this conversation so that I could let you know I found your little secret," Marie pulled something from the pocket of her apron and laid it on Audrey's leg. It was the pretty white thong Audrey thought was still hidden in the white draperies. She started, her eyes wide with something like fear, but the older woman put a gentle hand to the younger girl's cheek. "It's okay, cherie. Believe me, I don't mind. I'm very pleased, actually."

"Pleased?!" the word ended on a near-squeak, Audrey was so surprised.

"Yes, child. It broke my heart to see you so unhappy with your femininity when you arrived here. To find out that, deep down inside, you were embracing it . . . oh, Audrey, I do think you'd be so much happier if you just accepted how pretty you really are.

For a long time, Audrey could only stare at Marie. It was all so much to take in and now, Marie said she was PRETTY?!? "I . . ." she stuttered, and then braced herself to go on and say what had to be said. "That's not really true. I'm not pretty at all.

"What ever gave you that idea?" Marie snorted in disbelief. "You're beautiful, in a very elegant way that I admire greatly."

"That's not what I was told." Audrey said, turning her face away to hide the tears that were beginning to burn at the backs of her eyes.

"By whom?" Marie asked, while very gently pulling the suddenly sobbing girl into her arms.

"By. . by. . by my governess . . . "

~---------~

Art was sitting at the table, not-watching the television and waiting for the microwave to chime. Memories of Marie's gourmet and family meals made the upcoming food experience less than pleasant to contemplate so he again tried to pay attention to Oprah's discussion of her current book of the month.

A bell sounded and Art started for the microwave before he realized it was his phone.

"Hello?" he said, expecting it to be some meal-time-profaning telemarketer and ALMOST looking forward to it. *You need to go home, son,* he told himself.

"Art?" a familiar and well loved voice came across the line.

"Jane! I didn't expect you to call tonight. How are you? Is anything wrong?"

"Not wrong precisely, and I am fine. The reason I called is that we've had something of a breakthrough with Audrey and I need to talk to you about it."

"Great! What happened?"

"Well, it all started when Marie discovered that Audrey had some special lingerie secreted away in her room that we didn't know anything about. Things that were markedly different from the stuff she usually wears."

"Okay. . "

"Let me tell you what Marie told Darla and me this afternoon."

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

Jane looked at her friend and her child. Darla was just as surprised by Marie's revelation as she was. Audrey had something as feminine as silk thongs? Jane still found it hard to credit - the girl had evidenced little interest or pleasure at all when she'd taken her shopping at Brenda's place. Jane thought about this woman, this Phoebe Elizabeth Talmage, Audrey's "Miss Phoebe Elizabeth," and wondered what could induce a woman, a child's care giver, to inflict such drivel on an unformed mind.

"So, as you see," Marie continued, raw anger twisting her mouth into a grimace, "This Phoebe Elizabeth creature was apparently a man-hater, or else, the next thing to one. So far as I can figure from what I got out of Audrey this morning, the woman filled Audrey with all these stories about how bad men were. She even told that sweet girl that it was a good thing that she was so gawky and boyish, because then MEN would leave her alone!"

Marie couldn't sit any longer and bolted from her seat to begin pacing about the room. "OH! And get THIS! If she ever betrayed her given name, Chastity? Well, then she'd find that sex was not ONLY terribly painful, but was also a terribly humiliating experience that benefitted no one but the man. And then, after the fact? The men would never be interested in her again since men, foul creatures that they are, only wanted virgins who had no basis for comparison between lovers."

"But she kept these delicate panties hidden from everyone," Jane cut in, wanting to stop Marie before she really got started. Marie did not lose her temper often, but when she did it could be spectacular. There simply wasn't time to deal with a rampaging Marie and a mentally abused student. And she would need Marie.

"She thought you were the same as her old governess who always told 'Chastity' that a woman should never weaken herself with effeminate things; no nice lingerie, no dolls, no makeup. Men could see the results of wallowing in femininity, so the old bitch said, and used those signs to select their victims," Marie replied.

"Does she still think of me that way? That I am like her governess?" Jane asked, feeling slightly queasy that Audrey might think her similar to that abusive governess.

"Goodness no!" Marie assured her with an amused laugh. "Oh, she's not entirely sure just WHAT you are all about, but after you took her to Brenda Franson's Style Shoppe, and then to Milady's Closet? No, her problem with you is that you are so much the OPPOSITE of that Talmage woman. You are pressing her to be as pretty and as feminine as she can manage. Why, she's more worried that you were going to turn her into a, well, . . ."

Marie saw the warning look flash in Jane's eyes and reconsidered her words "She is certainly aware that you are not out to make her to appear masculine. In any event, I'm sure she no longer thinks of you as another incarnation of her tormentor." Marie walked back to her seat and took a sip of her tea. "There's a fight going on inside that child, Jane. I just know, in my heart, that she wants to learn to be a strong, feminine woman, to find romance and accept and enjoy her appearance, but after all the lies that woman told her she's afraid . . . "

"Afraid? Audrey?" Darla scoffed. "Audrey isn't afraid of anything!

"Hush, dear," Jane remonstrated, a gentle touch taking the sting out of her command. "That sort of fear is much deeper than merely a sense of physical danger."

~---------~

"Well, that is interesting," Art said. "We knew she was repressing her feminine side and we knew she reacted very aggressively toward large males. This could explain a great deal."

"Do unto others before they do unto you?" Jane misquoted. "It also explains why she's apparently been comfortable around Darryl. He isn't big enough to pose an immediate threat. . "

"And he came recommended by you," Art put in. "What are you going to do about what you've discovered?"

"Go carefully, and that's why I wanted to talk to you. First, I want to step up the girly-girl things for her. Have her get the extensions at Caro's so she has a coiffure instead of that crewcut, buy her more undies and have her ditch the cotton armor plate."

"Okay," Art said, but Jane heard something like doubt in his voice. She called him on it. "Well, I wouldn't make her throw away the old stuff, and I wouldn't make her wear the frillies everyday. Buy her some new stuff, though, so she has enough to replace her own if SHE decides to do so. Then, if she starts wearing it when you don't tell her to, you'll know you've made progress."

"I see what you mean," Jane said quietly. "But you don't see any problems with the longer hair?"

"Not so long as you don't go hard over on some big hair monstrosity or force her to wear it styled all the time."

"Harrumph. I'd be happy with a nice ponytail if it was her choice and looked pretty on her."

"That's a plan. Nudge her, but let her have the opportunity to make her own decisions, too. Anything else?"

"Yes," Jane replied. "I want her to be in situations with boys. Controlled ones, but I want her to have a chance to see them as something other than the two-headed monster Miss Phoebe Elizabeth Talmage told her about."

"What ever happened to that woman? Is she about to feel the Wrath of Thompson?"

"No," and Art could hear a wealth of regret in that otherwise simple word. "She is dead. After talking with Marie, I called Audrey's Mother and discussed this whole situation with her. I found out that the governess passed away when Audrey was 14 and according to her Mother, just starting to fill out and go through her last growth spurt."

"A vulnerable time for any young woman, but most especially for one who already doesn't fit in with her school mates."

"Yes, and the way she died doesn't help. Breast Cancer. A uniquely female death that the old biddy evidently blamed, quite loudly in Audrey's hearing by the way, on being too well endowed. Marie tried to tell Audrey that was garbage, but we'll have to see if she accepts that."

"What about the undies she snuck into your dark, feminine prison?"

"I will pretend, Artemis," Jane said in grand hauteur, "That I did not hear that scurrilous remark. As to the secret lingerie cache, for the moment, I will not give her any indication that I know about them. She's confided in Marie once. I think it best that she think I don't know about it. Perhaps that will encourage Audrey to confide further or seek Marie out when she needs someone to talk to."

"Good plan," Art replied, and then dropped his voice into a low, husky whisper. "I miss you, sexy woman. I miss you a LOT! There is this Jane Thompson-sized hole in my bed that I keep falling into every night."

"You're the one who said he had to leave," Jane retorted smartly, not willing to admit on whose side of the bed she was waking up of late. "Maybe we can plan an outing to Providence or Boston with the girls and find an excuse to be together."

"Sounds like a plan. How about tomorrow?"

"Oh, you." Jane said fondly. "I have to go, dear. Call you tomorrow as planned."

"Love you, Jane Thompson-Philips.

"You too, Art. You, too."

 

Chapter 6: More Questions Than Answers

Darla glanced over at the glowing numerals on her bedside clock and scowled wearily. It had not moved all that much since the last time she looked at it. She was tired - exhausted really - but sleep would not come to the feminized teen.

For a few moments, she listened to the sound of night in Seasons House. The wind had picked up during the day and it was blowing strongly now. The century-old Victorian manor house creaked and groaned as the gusts whistled in and out of the many twists and corners of the external structure. Normally, such sounds meant home to Darla, and were as good as a mother's lullaby.

But not tonight. Tonight, for all her fatigue, every sense seemed to be on red alert, denying her mind rest.

Resignedly, she tossed aside her bedcovers and rolled out of bed. Flicking on the light, she moved to her desk to find the book she was reading for one of her online courses. *One of the distinct disadvantages to being Darla right now is that my desk is always filled with more pots, bottles and tubes than the Avon Lady's sample case. Makes it bloody difficult to use as a desk.* As she rummaged in the desk/vanity's drawers, she happened to catch a glance of herself in the mirror.

"I wonder what Momma-Jane would say," Darla asked her reflection, "If she knew that I think of these cute, silky, shortie- nightgowns as oversized t-shirts? Wonder if that is how Audrey sees them?"

Darla made her way back to the bed, her mind analyzing that last thought. *Guess that isn't so odd,* she mused, *After nearly five years of living with Darla, it only makes sense that the clothes don't seem to matter all that much anymore. Darla wears dresses and Darryl wears trousers and neither seems all that big a deal anymore. About all they do is remind me how to act and which name to answer to. Wonder if I could be Darryl in skirts?* The thought made Darla laugh, a tired giggle that sounded strange even to her ears. *Lord, am I really starting to think of myself as two different people? I must be more blitzed than I thought.*

Shaking her head in a vain attempt to clear away the doldrums, Darla set her book aside and reached for her robe as she stepped into her slippers. "Much as I hate the stuff, I think this is a warm milk kind of night."

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

Darla was surprised to see a halo of light on the floor beneath the kitchen door as she padded through the dining room. Carefully, she cracked open the door to see who was in there, hoping to avoid Audrey if the other girl had decided to raid the pantry, too. *I am just not up to keeping the mask in place right now.*

It wasn't Audrey, she soon discovered. Rather it was Marie, sitting at her kitchen table. She was reading a book, Darla noted, and had evidently been there a while if the empty tea carafe and cookie plate were any indication. For a moment, she considered leaving Marie to her book, but curiosity got the better of her. With an loud sneeze to announce her presence, Darla opened the door and stepped into the brightly lit kitchen.

The noise made Marie jump in surprise, her eyes wide as they flew to Darla's. "Darla!" she exclaimed, hurriedly closing her book. "What are you doing here?"

"Couldn't sleep, Tante Marie," the petite blonde in the brunette wig said as she bent down to kiss Marie's cheek. She frowned only a little bit when she saw that Marie was obscuring the cover of the book with her folded arms. "Thought I would try the warm milk trick."

"You MUST be in a bad way, dear, to be willing to force down that hated potion of your youth." It had been a long standing joke between the two. Darla hated warmed milk while Marie firmly believed in the beverage's benefits. Darla almost always gave in, however, unable to resist her beloved Aunt Marie's entreaties that it was for her own good.

"I wouldn't object to it having a bit of cocoa in it, just for flavoring," Darla said hopefully.

"Now, you know cocoa has caffeine," Marie admonished as she stood up to fix the milk. Only a few minutes later, the milk was heated and ready for pouring. "Maybe this will help," Marie said with a mischievous glint in her eye. From behind her back, she pulled a small glass bottle and added a dollop of its amber contents to the frothy white liquid.

Darla sipped carefully at the brandy-laced milk and sighed happily. "Why didn't you ever do that for me before?" She complained.

"Because you weren't a grownup then, darling. Now, why don't you tell Tante Marie what is bothering you while you drink that down?"

*In the same sentence, she calls me an adult and then treats me like her child. Guess being an adult doesn't change some things,* Darla thought with a smile, *Thank God!*

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

The phone on his desk rang loudly, breaking Art's concentration on an abysmally written midterm exam and eliciting a curse that would have had his beloved wife reaching for the soap bar. Not that she'd really wash his mouth out with soap - it was just a reminder of the standards to which she held her students. At least Art THOUGHT she wouldn't try to wash his mouth out with soap.

Grumbling, Art snatched up the phone to silence its fire alarm- bell peel. The phone, like the furniture in this makeshift office he'd been shunted to on his return were antiques - Early American Office Surplus if he did not miss his mark. At least the desk didn't rock too badly. "Hello?" he growled into the phone.

"Oops," a cheerful light alto voice chuckled on the other end of the line. "Why do I think I have called at a bad time?"

"Darla!" Art cheered, his mood instantly improving. "Great to hear from you! What's up at home or can't you talk now?"

"Sure can! Momma Jane has Audrey downstairs for a formal tea. *I* was not invited because *I* might set a bad example by trying to lighten up the conversation. I think Edith White may be coming for a visit and Jane is trying to prep Audrey for that experience."

"How's her face?"

"Healing nicely, I think, at least visually. The yellow bruising is fading around her nose and cheeks. Still a little dark under her eyes, but that almost looks attractive - kind of exotic."

"And her "Noses-by-Darla" designed schnazola?"

"Very cute," Darla said with something that sounded like a sigh. "Dad? She really DOES look like Gigi now. Momma Jane rigged her out in one of those fifties 'Cinderella' movie princess outfits the other night? Supposedly as a punishment?"

"Yes?" Art prompted when the voice at the other end of the line was silent longer than the professor could stand.

"She was flat out gorgeous."

"Was she, now?" Art chuckled. "Was that why you called?"

Darla started to respond to that question, and stopped. She tried to find the words to ask her adoptive father about, well, wooing a woman, and it just didn't seem . . . right somehow. It wasn't usually that hard to talk to Art, after all, he was a professional psychologist, but talking about a girl . . .

*That's it!* Darla thought to herself. Consciously flipping a switch in her mind, she changed mode to the person who COULD talk with Art about boy-girl things. "Sort of, Dad."

The tenor that sounded over the phone let Art know it was now his son on the line, and all by itself that told him what the call was really about. "THAT gorgeous, Darryl?" Art asked in his gentlest tone.

"She is to me, Dad," was the very simple reply.

"And you find yourself caught in a very sticky web that pulls from several directions. Your part in Jane's program, both as a mentor, and as Jane's primary informant, and then there's the fact that we already know that Audrey is, if not actually afraid of men and male/female physical relations, is very, very wary of them. And now, you must also deal with a very strong attraction to her."

"I think I am falling for her, Dad."

"A very sticky web, indeed. Have you spoken with Jane about this?"

"No," was the suddenly weary answer. "I am afraid she will decide that either Audrey or I will have to leave, and that is the last thing I want."

"What are you doing, then?" And this was Art the psychologist- concerned-for-the-welfare-of-his-patient speaking.

"Mostly nothing - At least nothing out of the ordinary. What Jane tells me to do when I am Darla, and I'm being awfully damned cautious when I am around her as Darryl."

"Perhaps that is the best thing you could be doing?" Art asked. "I do think Jane is helping her and by being very circumspect as Darryl, you are helping to desensitize her. As she comes to trust you as a male, that will help you in the long run if you are intent on making an attempt at a relationship with her."

"It is just so SLOW, Dad!"

"That impatience is the male in you talking, son, and in this case, I think you need to listen to your other side. I think Audrey is going to need things done slowly."

"She's not a skittish horse!" Darryl said with some disgust.

"No, but she is skittish. So far, Darryl is the only male she's had contact with, except for the physicians and even their her primary care doctor and surgeon were females, since she came to us. Has she loosened up around you at all?"

"She likes kicking my butt at whatever we do together - running, stair climbing - heck, about the only thing I can do better than her is the bench press and lord only knows how long I will keep that advantage once the doctor gives her leave to really start working out again. She's started to rag on me about it, too."

"Excellent. It means she trusts you and likes you. If she didn't, she'd be just as formal and distant as she was at the beginning."

"Never thought I would be told to be grateful for getting my butt run into the ground. And you are wrong, by the way. Jane brought in Bill, Caro's husband? The Sheriff's deputy? Anyway, to help her with her pistol shooting. It's only an air pistol, but she's pretty good with it and Bill has helped her get even better." Darryl's voice trailed off as he added, "And he gets to put his arms around her."

"To improve her stance and gun position?"

"Yes."

"Good. It means the desensitizing is working - I mean, Bill has grown to be a good sized fellow and she lets him put his arms around her and you KNOW that Bill is besotted with Caro, right?" Not waiting for an answer to that question, Art pressed on. "So what ARE you going to do?

"What?!? Why do I think I called YOU?!?"

"Hey, look how long it took me to land mine, youngster. Sure you want me giving you advice to lovelorn?"

"You're the only one I trust enough TO ask about these things, Dad, and besides, you better than most understand my special issues."

"You mean Darryl and Darla?"

"Yes, I mean, suppose she thinks I am a wimp for letting Jane talk me into this?"

Art thought privately that the issue Darryl would have to deal with would be much different but kept his counsel on that score. Art would have to help him deal with that problem when the time came for it. "I think that is unlikely. If anything, it may make you more attractive in her eyes. A male who would do such things to help other people, who would follow such a unique and intellectual course is not likely to become violent or hurtful."

"Okay," and there was a world of relief in that single word. "But what do I do?"

"You say she had begun teasing Darryl? When you would work out together?"

"Yes. And she was very sharp about it, too. Sometimes, it took me several minutes to figure out I've been had again."

"So, tease her back. Gently, of course. Chide her about dogging it on a run, or tell her to suck it up when she lags on the stair climber."

"I do that with other guys, Dad!" Darryl protested. "SHE'S not a guy!"

"You do that with friends, son. You are going to need to be her friend. From what you've told me, I think you are already there, but you need to be sure, okay?"

There was silence on the other end until Art first heard a deep sigh and then, "Okay, Dad."

"At least you know what you want and are trying to figure out how to get it. Took me far too many years to realize where my happiness lay. So, what else is going on at the home front? Jane trying anything new these days?"

A hoot of laughter answered that and Art settled comfortably back into his chair. This held promise.

"Well, ever since Marie told Jane about Audrey's governess, she's been looking for ways to get her into the company of men in what Jane thought were 'safe situations'."

"She talked to me about that," Art replied. "Like I said - desensitization therapy."

"Well, she hit upon a real lulu this time. I think Jane's original plan was that we would be absent for this phase, but she's changed her mind. It's tonight, in fact."

Darryl outlined the plan for his adopted father for the next several minutes. At the end, Art nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. You two going to have a front row seat?"

His son snorted. "Jane's offered to foot most of the costs for the instructor. We'll be offered any seat we want."

"Money talks, son," Art replied, looking up at the old wall clock and frowning. "Look, soon, I've enjoyed talking with you, but could you ask Darla to come to the phone? I need to sign off."

"Oh, um, sure, just a second." Confused, Darryl stared at the receiver for a moment, and then shrugged. Lifting the appliance back to his ear, he mentally shifted back to his feminine alter ego. "What's up, Daddy-Art?" Darla's voice chirped over the lines.

"Nothing, dear. Just wanted to get you back into role before I hung up," Art replied before slipping into Diana's husky contralto. "It's hard enough to pull these little masquerades of Jane's off without the added confusion of which voice to use."

"Oh!" Darla giggled. "Gotcha, Daddy-Di! Well, have a good day. Thanks for the help and for the reminder."

"Talk to you soon, Darla. Let me know how tonight's excursion works out." Art replied fondly as he heard the line click off. *Well, well, well. If that don't beat all. Wonder how Jane will deal with THAT development?* Then, a smile on his face and in a much better mood, Art returned his attention to grading the midterm exams.

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

A knock on her study door broke into Jane's concentration. With only a hint of a grumble, she closed down her internet connection and shutdown the laptop Art and Darryl had given her for her last birthday. She was determined to become proficient with the damned thing, if only to show her son that she could, but just now, any interruption was welcome. So far, the laptop had refused to provide her with the data she wanted the way she wanted it. And that failure had consumed two hours!

"Yes?" She called out once the infernal device was safely hidden away. Jane saw Darla enter, dressed in a very unusual style for a student of Season's House - a pink sleeveless t-shirt and blue jeans. *The jeans still look too new,* she sighed, *even after as many washes as Marie could get in once we decided this was the way to go.* "You look very nice, dear," Jane offered as Darla came over and took a seat opposite her.

Her imp of a daughter grinned at the grimace of distaste that flitted across her mother's face when she made that insincere compliment. "Well, after getting paint on my slacks, you have to agree that jeans are more reasonable."

"Did you have to get paint on the Dior?" Jane asked, still inwardly fuming at the sacrilege.

"The teacher said to wear slacks - I wore what you provided, Momma- Jane. It's not my fault you don't shop at K-Mart."

"Puh-lease," Jane groaned theatrically, before breaking into a short giggle. "Well, I must admit that your current outfit suits the goal of this activity. How's Audrey coming?"

"At least SHE had jeans that fit her."

"Those don't fit you? They look like they do?"

Darla mumbled something Jane couldn't quite make out. "What was that, dear?"

"I had to wear the bloody gaff," Darla growled low in her throat. "My slacks were loose enough that I could get by without that thrice cursed appliance, but these jeans, ah, fit too well for me to go without assistance in that area. Do I REALLY have to go to this session? LIKE this? I mean, I am REALLY not interested in this at ALL!"

"And have you get paint over another pair of designer slacks? Yes, you need to go like that, and yes, I do think you must attend this session. Audrey may need you."

"Don't you think this is pushing things a little hard? I mean, we've never done this with any other student."

"None of the boys would have benefitted from this little outing."

"And you think Audrey will?" Darla asked with frank disbelief.

"It is a controlled environment where she will share the experience with other girls her own age whom she has come to know and like - at least a little. Hopefully, they will buffer her at the critical moment of surprise, but if they don't, I want you there to help her."

Darla glared at her Mother for several seconds, and for just a moment, Jane worried that she might refuse to go which in turn would force Jane to reconsider her plans. Then, Darla sighed and rose from her seat. "Don't you at least think we ought to warn her?"

"No, dear. She needs to know she can deal with this. I think she can and Art thinks she can. She has to know it and she might not be sure afterwards if she is forewarned."

Darla had learned many effective strategies for one on one confrontations in her years with Jane. In this case, she let the silence stand between them, her eyes meeting Jane's as she came to her own decision. Breaking the eye contact, she walked over to kiss her Mother's cheek. "I have to go then. Marie was getting the wagon when I came up here."

Jane accepted her child's kiss and returned it lovingly. Darla turned to leave, but then stopped, a gamine grin that Jane had learned to be wary of lighting her face. "Oh, and you don't need to hide your computer when I come to call, Momma-Jane. I'd be happy to help you figure out how to use it more effectively. Just ask next time, okay?" And then she was gone.

*Now how did that minx know?* Jane thought wonderingly.

 

 

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