Tales of the Season - Ken's Barbie

by Tigger
Copyright 2002

 

Chapter 9: A Difficult (Re)Birth

"Darnit, Tante Marie!" Kenneth's complaint came out on the end of a wheeze, "I don't have to be at her hotel until tomorrow morning. Why do I have to wear this. . this THING now!"

"Because, petit," Marie grunted, "I cannot finish fitting the dress unless you are the. . <ummph> right shape. If I cannot finish - Sandy, pull that lace for me, oui, that's it - fitting the dress, you will look like the clown tomorrow, eh? Now, quit whining. You're breathing too much!"

"I always wondered why you did the corsetting, Marie," Kenneth gasped by way of a retort. "In my ignorance, I thought it was because Jane didn't want to appear to sweat and strain. Now I know better. YOU do it because you LIKE doing it."

"Aw, does mon pouvre petit chou not like his pretty satin undies," Marie cooed in baby-talk just before she started working down the laces yet again.

"It's a good thing I love you, or I might think you were a bit of a sadist, Tante Marie." There was a loud smack and Kenneth yelped as loudly as his diminished lung capacity permitted. Fire burned on his satin clad fanny and he spun to see a grinning Sandy rubbing the palm of her right hand with her left.

"*I'm* the sadist, Kenny," she smirked, "And you'd do well to remember that. So, quit your bitching and take it like a man. Got it?" she asked as she reached up to pat his other cheeks - the blushing ones on his face.

"Got it, Sandy."

"Look here, Kenneth," Sandy said more seriously. "I know you're worried about this, but you've got the two best in the business here. Let us do what we have to do, and it will be all right. Start thinking girlie, okay? That's your part of this deal, and girls don't bitch about being made pretty."

"Okay, Sandy," he replied meekly, and then grabbed both women and pulled them close for a hug and cheek kiss. "Thanks."

"Remember that when I finish putting on your face with Jane's special long-lasting cosmetics. You don't have enough practice recently to maintain the look on your own anymore, so Marie and I figured the best bet would be to make it so you didn't have to worry about that."

"But that stuff takes days to wear off!"

"So?" Marie shrugged. "You have three weeks, right?"

"Right."

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

"Bon matin!" Marie chirped as she opened the blinds in Kenneth's room to admit the light of a New England dawn. "Vite, vite, ma petite, levez! We have much to do this morning."

"Tante Marie, it's . . what. . " one bleary eye opened and focused on the digital alarm clock, "5:bloody-45 in the morning. I don't have to meet her until 9:30."

"And you must be beautiful, ma grande fille jolie, and that will take time, eh?"

"As if I ever have to worry about that," was the sour reply, "And don't you mean 'gross' instead of 'grande', Mademoiselle Marie?"

"Oh ye of little faith. You will be. . parfait, ma cherie. Trust me. Now into the shower with you."

Kenneth struggled up out of bed - not an easy accomplishment since the two women had insisted that he wear the corset all night to . . .acclimate him to its iron-busked grip. "Can't shower or I'll get the corset wet."

"Well, scrub where you can and I will have la petite dejeuner sur la table when you come down."

Kenneth went to his bathroom to begin cleaning up. *It will have to be a very petite breakfast with this damned corset compressing my gut and other internal organs. Odd that Tante Marie's French always pops up when she's having a really good time. What does that say about what she's doing now, Ken m'boy?*

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

Kenneth held onto the top of the bedroom door with both hands and let his body hang. "Excellent, Kendra," Sandy crowed as she and Marie worked in unison to take up any slack that had developed overnight in the corset strings.

"It won't do anyone any good if I faint from lack of oxygen behind the wheel of my car," he protested - not that his opinion counted for anything.

"You gonna cry and moan when I do your 'brows, Kendra?" Sandy asked. "If you are I need to know so that I hold off on finishing your eyes until last. Don't want that long-lasting mascara running before it's dry, you know."

"You're all heart, Sandy."

"Blonde, brunette or redhead?" Marie asked, carrying in three wig boxes from her little compact.

"Brunette, I think," Sandy said. "That way, I don't have to bleach his eyebrows. Although I could thin them out more than I planned and then they'd just look like a really dark eyebrow penciling. I always did favor Kendra as a blonde - especially after that haircut you gave yourself, sweetie."

"That was because Jane and Marie had slipped me that peroxide-laced shampoo of theirs and it pissed me off. My mother always wanted me to be a bleached blonde."

"Well, I don't want to piss you off - at least - not any more than I have to," Sandy quipped. "Marie? You want to bring in the clothes while I start on his face?"

"*Her* face, Sandy. Jane's first rule is that you can't think boy and survive as a girl. Be right back!"

"She is enjoying herself too much," Ken muttered.

"You don't think she'd be in this with Jane all these years if she didn't enjoy it, do you?" Sandy observed. "Just because she's a sweetie doesn't mean she can't have fun turning a guy into a girl."

"She never acted like yo. . I mean. . "

"Like I act? Don't cringe, Kendra, you'll make me smear. Okay, I admit a certain kinky pleasure in what I do with Jane's boys and I get off on having them terrified of me. Not as much as I used to before Michael and before Benny, but it's still there. Marie enjoys it, too, she just feels guilty about making them so miserable, which tends to blunt her pleasure. Anyway, when she gets to play with a guy who's even halfway willing - like you are right now or like the guys who are coming for Michelle's secret wedding - she has a ball."

Sandy stepped back to look at the brows she'd just finished shaping and thinning and then moved in for a few more minute adjustments. "You aren't going to keep sniveling and ruin this for her, because if you are, let's quit right now."

"I have no choice in this."

"Sure you do, but if you are really hating this all that much, you're sure to screw it up with Adrienne's sister anyway, so we might as well quit before I do something really long-term to you."

Kenneth thought about that for a few moments and was surprised when Sandy let the issue stand in silence. She just stood there, watching him; waiting for him to come to a decision. Honesty, he thought, was called for. "I guess I'm just really afraid of being a freak. It didn't matter the first time - when you're fighting for your life nothing much else matters, you know?"

Sandy nodded. "And this time, it does matter? Being a guy, that is?"

Kenneth looked at her and shook his head. "Being a girl matters. Truth to tell, that time when we went after my mother? With me as Kendra?" Sandy nodded. "I was pretty hot."

The blonde woman almost choked on her guffaw. "And now you're afraid that you won't be? Is that really what this is all about?"

"A good deal of it," Kenneth admitted softly. "It's kind of hard being the ugly duckling in Jane's brood. First Michelle, then Darla and now even Jessica."

"All of whom would give thanks for just half the inches you have on them."

"It makes me feel like the odd man out, Sandy. It's part of their lives - hell, my life - that I can't share with them anymore."

"Well, hell, boy, if that's all that's bothering you. Watch and learn, kiddo!"

"I thought I told you to use girl pronouns and names," Marie called as she hustled past them, her arms laden with a suitcase, hanging case and a jewelry case. "I will be back down to do her nails momentarily."

"You sure we have to use Jane's magic face paint, Sandy," Kendra's voice wheedled as Marie disappeared up the stairs.

"Of course I'm sure, sweetie. Otherwise, you'll chew off your lipstick in the first ten minutes. Now shut up and let me work."

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

"Ah, ah, ah," Marie chided as she slipped two adhesive-backed prosthetic breast forms into the cups of the strapless bra she had fit over Kendra's chest. "No peeking until we're done. Now, hold your bosom in place until the glue sets, please."

Feeling very much the fool, Kendra put her hands on the round protuberances and pressed hard against them. They felt HUGE! "Aren't those just a little, well, big?"

"You are a big girl, my sweet, yet a beautiful one. That is what we must achieve, the image of a beautiful young woman. With nothing to give scale, it must appear that you are perfectly formed. In fact, when someone or something adds scale, it must appear that other person is small, not that you are large. Or at least, that is our goal. To do that, you must be proportional."

"Proportional? With these boobs I'll be a spectacle!"

"You'll be spectacular," Sandy corrected with a laugh from behind Kendra. She was standing on a stool so she could reach her only-slightly-whining client's coiffure. "Now, I'm weaving your own hair through the wig's backing so that it won't come loose accidently. In fact, if you try to pull this hairpiece off, your barber won't need to thin your hair for at LEAST a month."

"How long is this glue good for?" he asked suspiciously as he tested the adherence of his new bosom.

"About as long as that face paint," Sandy said breezily, "although there is a solvent for that stuff, if not for the cosmetics."

"Wonderful," he grumbled as Marie started to roll fine, nude-colored stockings up his legs towards the garters hanging from the corset.

"Don't put the shoes on her until I'm done here, Marie," Sandy cautioned. "There's nothing taller for me to stand on."

"All right, Sandy."

"Why is that a problem?" Kenneth asked before the implications of Sandy's warning hit him. "Heels! You brought me HEELS?"

"What else?" Marie asked as she presented a pair of red pumps with at least three inch heels for his inspection.

"My god, Marie, I'm already six three. In those things I'll be six and a half feet. . "

"Six feet, six and a half inches, dear," Sandy corrected with a grin.

"Over six and a half feet tall. Everyone in the world is going to stare! They'll see. . .see. .

Sandy gave his hair a sharp tug and he subsided, although with ill grace. "Kendra?" she said warningly.

"Sit down, cheri," Marie ordered gently. He did, and she saw the uncertainty in his dark eyes. Sighing, she sat down opposite him. "What do you think they will see, Kenneth?" she asked gently.

"A freak," he said quietly. "Something to gawk at, and the harder they gawk, the more they will see, until . . ."

"Say it, mon chou," she ordered, her voice still very gentle.

"Until they see me as what I really am - a guy. I figured that was going to happen anyway, and for Momma-Jane, I can handle that. I *will* handle that, but I sort of hoped you two, being the best, could somehow at least give me half a chance."

Marie looked at the distraught young man for several moments, her eyes very thoughtful. Then, without warning, her smile blossomed bright and true. "You love Jane very much, don't you, my boy? You agreed to this challenge by Adrienne's sister, fully expecting to fail in your masquerade, but you agreed to it anyway."

"It's Mom's only chance, Marie. If she can't turn that girl around, it'll all come down around her ears. I wasn't kidding about the court stuff - I'm sure I can win there, but she'll still lose when the media gets wind of things. I had to try. . . have to try."

Still smiling, Marie leaned over to kiss his forehead. "Trust us, mon gallant. Sandy, are you done with her coiffure?"

"Sure am! Ready for dressing, I'd say!"

"Bien," Marie said as she pulled a white dress from the garment bag. The dress was boldly patterned with red flowers. "Slip this on, dear," she ordered as she set the other item aside. She knelt down to help her charge slide the shoes onto his feet. "Excellent. Good thing Jane bought that last set of outfits for Jasmine before she left. That one - grew six inches in the four months she was with us."

"No sleeves, Tante Marie?" Kendra asked, as Sandy zipped up the closure in the back of the dress.

"It was a sundress, cherie. I removed the extra material from the skirt, since I knew you would not be wearing petti's with it, eh? Now, the jacket," she ordered, handing Kendra a woman's suit jacket in matching red. "Ah, perfect. See? It hides most of your bared shoulders. The pendant, si vous plait, Sandy, so that the eye catches the tiniest hint of cleavage, oui? Ah, lovely. All right, come with me to the mirror. Close your eyes. On three, you may look. Une, deux, . . . "

"TANTE MARIE, I'M GOING CRAZY HERE!"

"TROIS" Marie shouted in unison with Sandy's "THREE!"

Then, there was silence. Kendra stared at the full length mirror, unable to speak. A single hand, tipped in long, finely done red nails snaked out to touch the mirror, as if testing the reflection. "That's. . . that's me?"

"Who else would it be, Kendra?" Sandy asked sarcastically.

"My goodness, but I'm, well, umm, I sure am tall."

At that, all three women burst out laughing. "You most assuredly are that, love," Marie told her creation, "You are also strikingly lovely."

"Shoot, you turned out even better than I thought you would. Put you in a gold satin bra and star-spangled panties and you're Wonder Woman, kid."

"I never thought about trying to do anything like this," Kendra murmured, still stunned by what she saw in the silvered depths of her mirror. "I figured you'd sort of try to hide me."

"Love, Jane's second rule is that if people are going to look, make sure they see what they expect," Marie told her. "No matter what we did with you, a woman over six feet tall is going to draw attention. It's what happens AFTER you have their attention that will make or break your masquerade."

"I'm not sure I understand, Tante Marie," Kendra said as she did a slow pirouette, her eyes never leaving the mirror.

"Kenny, the first time with Jane, when you went after that thrice-damned bitch who was your mother?" Sandy interjected. "You had all the advantages. You could take a second or a third look, and be subtle enough to carry off the deception."

"Boy, has THAT ever changed," Kendra said with an almost hysterical giggle.

"True, so we took a different path - we're hiding you in plain sight, okay? Look at yourself - SEE for yourself. No one is going to see you as anything but a very striking, if very tall, woman. However, if you tried to hide your light under a bushel, all you'll do is flash a red light at them."

"I'd need something bigger than a bushel, Sandy."

"Oh, stop. All anyone will see when they look at you is obvious, blatant femininity, albeit, a LOT of it. They may look again, too, cause, hell, girl, you're worth looking at, but trust me, they sure as HELL ain't gonna see a man."

"Aw hell," Kendra muttered and then swept the two smaller women up into a hug, one in each arm. "Thank you for helping, and. . and. . .for giving me back Kendra."

They stood like that for several moments before Sandy began to squirm. Kendra released her grip, and they stepped away, still shaking with shared emotion.

"Good thing we used that special makeup," Sandy quipped in a quavery voice, "Your face would be a mess now."

Marie handed a woman's leather attache to Kendra. "One of Jane's, but she has so many, she'll never miss it. There's a small clutch purse inside with your money, license and credit cards inside."

"Just remember, keep your head up and look everyone right in their damned eyes," Sandy ordered. "After all, they'd put THEIR skirt on the same way you did and wouldn't look nearly as good."

"Yes, Ma'am," Kendra smiled. "Now, I've got to hurry or I will be late."

"OH, and take it easy on the road! After our hard work, buster, DON'T get caught by some US Route 1 speed-trap on your way back to Seasons House, okay? It would really piss Jane off. Me, too."

"Me three," Marie piped in.

"Wouldn't do a helluva lot for my good temper, either," Kendra finished before kissing each of the two women on the cheek. "Thanks again. Now, if I can just manage to get around in these ridiculous heels without killing myself or breaking something important. See you in Kingston, ladies."

 

 

Chapter 10: (Boy)Girl Meets Girl

*So far, so good,* Kendra thought as she stepped carefully out of the elevator onto the ceramic-tiled floor of the hotel's fourth floor. *If I can just navigate this slippery floor in these spikes without ending up on my corset-broadened butt.*

On arriving, she'd called Anne Braithwaite on one of the house-phones in the main lobby to announce her presence and to get the woman's room number. *Should have asked for it yesterday, but I was too spun up by Madden's interference. Was that why she didn't remember to tell me, or was she consciously making it harder for me - forcing me to go where there was a house-phone, and by extension, other people - to find her? Interesting question, Roberts. Maybe you've been living with devious women like Ruth and Jane too long.*

So far, Sandy's advice on how to deal with the staring masses had been right on the money. Every passerby who had gawked at her had gotten Kendra's best imitation of Jane Thompson's infamous 'The Look'. And the question 'Wonder what HE'D look like in four inch heels, two inch nails and corset?' had given 'The Look' enough punch to make even the most persistent gawker look away in embarrassment.

She checked the note she'd written at the phone and then knocked on the door. "Just a minute," came the muffled reply from inside the door.

The door opened. "Oh, you're here. . . "

There was something very satisfying, Kendra reflected, about watching Anne Braithwaite's face go from polite greeting to stunned disbelief in the course of three seconds. However, after ten seconds of being stared at, Kendra decided that was more than enough. "May I come in, Ms. Braithwaite?" she asked in the husky alto Sandy had helped her develop the previous night.

"um. . .of course, come in, please," the shorter blonde said as she stepped back to hold the door open. "You're, um, well, rather tall."

"Is that all?" Kendra challenged softly, one brow quirked up in a challenge that any Jane Thompson student would have recognized. Then, some imp a younger Kendra would never have acknowledged had her doing another pirouette, her arms held above her head like a skater.

"That. . you. . .I mean, wow. I mean, I can tell you're you, that is, Mr. Roberts, from your face, but the rest of you."

"Would it surprise you to know that the only person who challenged me on my way here was some clown who wanted to buy me breakfast?"

Kendra covertly gave her host a quick once-over. Once again, her smooth, high-cheek-boned face was virtually clean of any artificial enhancement, and her clothes must have been un-altered 'off the rack' because their fit and color were all wrong for her. *Wonder what she'd look like in a decently fitting dress, a touch of Marie's cosmetic witchery, and for god's sake, a pair of HEELS!* Kendra mused. *She's like a canvas prepared for the artist - no blemishes, but that's all you can say. Well, at least her hair is down today. A lighter, brighter blonde than I thought, and full of body. Looks good falling down her back to her shoulder blades.*

"I don't think that's all he wanted to do," Anne breathed softly, and then blushed furiously. "My God, you look like a supermodel. Or a superhero. What was that TV show? Wonder Woman? You look like her, or the actress who played her anyway."

"You mean Linda Carter?"

"Right, that's it! You look just like her, only even taller, and more, um, . . . shapely. I'm . . . impressed."

"Why, thank you, Anne. A girl tries to look her best, you know." *You should try it,* Kendra thought.

Anne blushed again, then looked away guiltily. "I'm, um, sorry if I insulted you. I mean, making such a big deal of it an all."

"No insult taken," Kendra replied easily, noting the very real anxiety in Anne's face. "In fact, I'll take that as a compliment. Are you ready to leave? Need any help with your luggage?"

"I just have an overnight bag," she replied, watching the taller woman very warily, as if trying to decide why Kendra wasn't reacting somehow. "I, ah, wasn't really expecting on staying."

"Figured I would wimp out, eh? That I wasn't man enough to be a woman when necessary?"

"Man enough to be a woman?" Anne choked out a shocked giggle. "I've never heard THAT before!"

Kendra shrugged and picked up the overnight bag in her free hand. "You've never met Jane Thompson before, either. Let's go. I want to get you to Seasons House around lunch time so that we can slip you into your apartment without Adrienne seeing you."

"Adrienne? Don't you mean Adrian?" the woman challenged with a dark frown on her face.

"Sorry," Kendra replied, not meaning it. "But we use the girl names while a student is in residence with Jane. That's part of the program. Heck, we graduates tend to use our jane-names among ourselves whenever we get together. Kind of a 'lipstick-red badge of courage' type of thing."

For several moments, Anne Braithwaite only stared, and then shook herself. "Why," she asked rhetorically, as she led the way back to the elevators, "Do I almost believe you?"

"Maybe because I am a very honest fellow. . .err, lady?"

"Yeah, right," was the sarcastic retort. "C'mon, let's go. Where's your car?"

"In the parking garage. Do you have to check out first?" At her nod, Kendra pressed the 'L' for Lobby button.

Anne was more than a little surprised when the very tall, very striking brunette followed her into the main lobby and waited while she finished her checking out. She had actually expected her companion to offer to go fetch the car and thus avoid contact with any crowds.

When she turned from the cashier, she scanned the lobby, but did not immediately find the tall, feminine person. She started toward the entrance when a small voice caught her ear.

"I was really sad when you stopped wrestling on Monday nights. You were my favorite. Could I please have your autograph?"

Anne turned to see a small girl, perhaps 9 years old, staring adoringly at Kendra who was hunkered down in a perfect 'stewardess-crouch' so that the two of them could make eye-contact. *Manages that short skirt pretty darn well,* she thought with a grin. *Wonder how many times she showed her panties before she learned that trick?*

THEN Anne realized she had mentally used the feminine pronoun for Kendra.

"I'm not that person, sweetheart," Kendra said with a gentle smile. "But I'm glad you think I'm that pretty."

"You sure you aren't? My mommy said you might be in. .inco. . umm, wearing a disguise. I mean, you're so tall and everything."

"I'm just a girl who grew up tall, sweetie. I really can't sign your book as someone I'm not. That wouldn't be honest of me or fair to you."

A woman, obviously the child's mother walked up to take the little girl's hand. Kendra stood back up and offered her hand to the woman. *She even has the hand-gestures down. That was the way a woman offers her hand to be shaken,* Anne realized. Kendra and the mother exchanged a few words before Kendra reached down to swoop the child up in her arms, eliciting a pleased squeal. She planted a smacking kiss on the little one's cheek before setting her back down.

Kendra caught sight of Anne as she picked her attache back up and smiled. "All done?" At Anne's bemused smile, Kendra beckoned her back to the elevators for the ride down to the garage. "I normally take the stairs," she admitted as they departed the elevator car, but in these heels, I'm not taking any chances I don't have to take. It's been a while since I tried to move in anything like these."

 

 

Chapter 11: Chicks and Ducks and Geese Better Scurry

Anne was thoughtfully silent as Kendra skillfully maneuvered the sporty BMW through downtown Providence and onto Interstate 95. She watched the person beside her do the simple, mundane acts associated with driving and saw, for the first time, the anomalies. His shifting, braking and acceleration wasn't always smooth, primarily because with the heels on, he (she?) was tentative on the clutch, brake and throttle pedals. Long fingernails got jammed painfully into the automobile's console when reaching to insert a CD into the car stereo. And while Kendra had entered the car in a manner suited to both her modesty and the hemline of her skirt, once she'd begun to relax and enjoy the drive, her legs sprawled into a decidedly unladylike position.

Clearly, while Kenneth Roberts was willing to assume a feminine guise, and was able to carry it off when he was consciously thinking about it, he wasn't so at home in the role that the mannerisms were second nature. That meant, she realized, that he'd dressed himself this way only in answer to her challenge. If he'd ever been that deeply into the feminine role, it had been a very long time ago.

By the time he took the car around a New England turning circle that took them from US Route 1 to Route 138, Anne's curiosity was near overwhelming.

"How much longer?" she asked by way of an opening.

"Not long," Kenneth's voice answered. "Another half hour or so."

"That's the first time you've really slipped up," she said conversationally. "Only another woman, and one who was observing you closely would have noticed your other slips." At his neck snapping double-take, she grinned triumphantly. "Your voice, silly."

"oh. . OH," and then Kendra was back - in all aspects. Anne watched in fascination as that simple reminder straightened a slouching back, brought sprawled knees together, put two hands daintily on the steering wheel and loosened wrists.

*It's like I just threw the sex-switch back to the 'girl' position.* "Well done, Kendra," she said, unable to resist the tease.

"It's been a while," the driver admitted.

"How long?"

"Six years." and there was a finality in the tone that told Anne not to pursue that, but she had questions that needed answers.

"Is that when you graduated?"

Kendra shot her passenger a dark look under her thickened lashes, then sighed as she recalled the purpose of this entire outing. "No. Jane asked me to help her with another project, and I dressed for that," Kendra said, not wanting to tell Anne that the project had involved trapping Sheila Roberts, Kenneth's mother, in an actual case of child abuse. For some reason, he rebelled at admitting to this woman that young Kenneth had been an abuse victim.

"I'm surprised you carry it off as well as you do, then. Surely, being a woman isn't THAT easy?"

"Easy? Are you kidding? This is the hardest thing I've had to do in years. I was. . hell, I am . . . scared to death. I'm out here, dressed in female clothes, alone with a woman who has threatened to sue my mother, with a driver's license that identifies me as a man."

"I did notice that you are being very careful to obey the speed limit."

"Last warning from the two women who helped me get ready this morning."

"They did well. You look, well, spectacular."

"Thanks. I wouldn't have tried this on my own and probably would have gotten read, because I would have tried to hide instead of stand out."

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what? Dress? Because you said that was the only way you'd go see what Jane does."

"Your client is THAT important to you? That you'd, how did you put it? dress in female clothes with a man's driver's license?"

"I also said she was my Mom," Kendra said quietly. "What I didn't say before is that she saved my life. So, yes, my client, as you put it, is THAT important to me."

"So, what happens to you when we get there? You jump into a nearby phone booth and change back into Macho-man?"

"Is that how you see Kenneth?" Kendra asked, and was pleased to see the blonde blush. "No, actually, I'm going to remain at Seasons House as Kendra - for a while, anyway."

"Why ever would you do that? To keep an eye on me? Surely, MISTER Roberts could do that."

"You won't need me to keep watch on you," Kendra said confidently, "As to the other, well, Jane is planning on giving you the full briefing on her program which you should have received before signing the court order after we get you settled. However, your brother doesn't know that there are other males in residence in Seasons House - part of the pressure she applies is that of an entirely female environment."

"Other males, but an entirely female environment. That doesn't make sense, does it?"

Kendra slowed to turn onto a paved, two-lane country road before answering. "I'm male," she replied. "And so is the 'girl' who is fulfilling the role of big sister/spirit guide for Adrienne. His Jane-name is Jessica, but he was born Jesse. Good kid - hardworking and incredibly smart - and he makes a helluva gorgeous girl. Probably could make a mint in Las Vegas as an entertainer, but he wants to be a lawyer."

"That's . . . that's unbelievable."

"What, that there's another boy there besides Adrienne? Well, I'll let Jane explain the whole thing to you. It'll still sound like bad fiction from the Internet the first time you hear it, but if you keep an open mind and really try to see what's going on, I think it will start to make sense."

"Okay, I guess. So if you're not hanging around to keep an eye on me, why are you staying?"

"You want the truth?" At her nod, Kendra sighed. "Your brother's turnaround, after Jane thought he was on his way to rehabilitation, has messed up a couple of really important events for Momma-Jane. The main reason is that my foster brother is getting married in a couple of weeks, and Jane was supposed to give him away."

"Give HIM away?"

"Hey, Jane's boys are all liberated, okay? Anyway, she isn't going to be able to attend now unless either your brother turns around and flies right, or someone else takes the watch. I want to be there myself, but I want Jane to be there more."

"So, Kendra relieves Jane for the wedding?"

"That's my plan. Now all I have to do is convince that damned stubborn redhead." At Anne's confused look, Kendra laughed. "Jane Thompson is the damned stubborn redhead. My brother thinks it's because someone tore the word 'quit' out of her dictionary before she learned to talk so she's never acknowledged the word exists, let alone understood it."

"Sounds like a formidable woman."

"Oh, yeah," Kendra said as she turned into the driveway. "Ms. Braithwaite? Welcome to Seasons House."

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

Jane saw the familiar BMW slip in behind the stable and smiled. Kenneth had succeeded. Barbara Anne Braithwaite had at least been interested enough to take the challenge and come here. That meant that Jane would at least have the opportunity to talk to the young woman, not to mention the opportunity to work with Adrienne a little longer at least.

*I'll just check on the girls, make sure that everything is under control, and then slip down to the stable and introduce myself. Too bad I can't invite her to luncheon, but the last thing I need just now is for Adrienne to know that her sister is here at Seasons House.*

 

 

Chapter 12: The Return of the Not-Quite Prodigal Daughter

*One advantage to having Jessica around is that there is no way that Adrienne is EVER going to put anything over on that sly-puss of a big sister. Lord, but that child is sneaky-smart,* Jane mused as she mounted the steps to the apartment above the stables. Jessica had been drilling her little sister on the finer points of English grammar and rhetoric when she'd left them in the school room. *Adrienne won't be able to get into too much trouble with her eyes crossing from Jessica's detailed critique's of her writing.*

She caught herself just before walking into the apartment unannounced and without knocking. *Maybe it is time to retire, if you are prone to forget such basic courtesies,* she chided herself.

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

"I'll get it," Kendra called when someone knocked, requesting entry into the snug little apartment. She opened the door and was, for the second time that day, treated to the sight of a woman staring at her in abject shock.

The recovered reaction, however, was somewhat different in this case than it had been just that very morning.

"KENDRA?!?!" Jane Thompson exclaimed, "Just what in the name of heaven are YOU doing here?"

Momentarily taken aback by the censure in Jane's voice, Kendra replied, "You knew I was bringing Adrienne's sister down here, today, Mom," she said. "That was one of your settlement-condition, if you recall."

"As KENNETH," Jane enunciated very carefully, "NOT as KEN-DRA. There is a difference."

"I, ah, noticed," Kendra replied, smiling sheepishly.

"Don't even try to make this a joke! Tell me, PLEASE, that you didn't pick her up dressed this way, or worse, that you didn't drive down here as Kendra."

"Can't do that, Momma-Jane," her foster child said quietly. "That was her condition to get her to follow your condition."

Jane lost it completely and stormed into the room, her eyes never leaving her foster child. "HAVE YOU TAKEN LEAVE OF YOUR BLOODY SENSES!?!?" she shouted. "What were you THINKING? Hell, you weren't thinking. What would have happened if you'd been stopped? What if you'd been in an accident?"

"Nothing happened, Mom," Kendra soothed.

"Well, lucky you! God protects fools and drunks, I'm told. You're the fool and you may just drive ME to drink! Didn't it occur to you that something could have happened? And you would have been up that well known creek without a paddle?"

"Mom, it was the only way to get her here and that was the most important thing."

"NO IT WAS NOT! NO-THING is more important to me than YOU and YOUR brothers! Don't you know you could be, for all intents and purposes, BLACKBALLED over something like this? Your career is what's important, Kenneth! Of all the stupid, irrational, idiotic, macho things to do. . "

"Macho?" Kendra spluttered, dissolving into a fit of giggles. "ME? Rigged out like this?"

Jane stared at her foster son for several moments, obviously fighting the urge to join in his giggle fit, and then lost. With a half-laugh of her own, she sat down. "Macho is as macho does, young laddie. Aren't you playing at being my knight in shining satin?" she asked. "Braving the dangers of the corporate dragons to come to my rescue?"

"This is all very interesting, but I'm afraid I don't understand what is going on here," a new voice said from the kitchen door.

Jane turned to see a tall, shapely blonde looking at her. She immediately saw the strong, family resemblance to Adrienne, particularly now that her student's darker hair had been bleached blonde. "Ms. Braithwaite, I presume?"

Kendra stepped in to make the necessary formal introductions, and then Jane continued. "Don't understand what?"

"You're clearly upset by Mr. Roberts doing what you, from what I've personally observed, insist that my brother do in your program. Why are you so angry at this one, and yet, you blithely endanger my brother in the same manner?"

"From your perspective, I can see how you might think that. Ms. Braithwaite. . .may I call you Barbara?"

"I prefer Anne, Ms Thompson," was the instant and very cold reply.

"As you wish. Please call me Jane. Anne, I go to extraordinary lengths in my program to ensure that the chances of your brother being found out as a boy in skirts are as close to zero as makes no real difference. When he is out in public, I have selected both the locations and the scenarios very carefully, and I have trained him even more carefully. The owners of the shops and salons I favor with his presence are part of my little conspiracy. When a student is not yet skilled at the masquerade, we go only to those selected shops at times when those not in on the secret won't be around. Gradually, as his skills improve, we up the ante, but always with someone watching to protect him and to pull him out if something goes wrong."

"Really?" Anne asked, obvious skepticism in her voice.

"Really. Which is why I am so upset with Kenneth. . Kendra. He had no one to protect him today. Obviously, he picked you up so he must have gone to the hotel." Jane turned a gimlet eye on the tall brunette. "I don't suppose you took the precaution of having her meet you in the car garage, did you?"

Kendra shook her head. "No, Ma'am. Even as a lady, I've been taught to be a gentleman, and a gentleman always calls for a lady at her door, and gives her escort through dark and dangerous places."

"Smartass," Jane snorted, but there was both humor and affection in her voice now. Then she looked back to Anne. "Anne, you will, I hope, over the next few weeks, see how I operate. I intend to share with you both the planning and the objectives for each activity I set for your brother. If it can be arranged without revealing your presence, I will try to have you in position to observe any public appearances I foist on her. . him. Hopefully, you will see the safeguards that Kenneth lacked today."

"But you do admit that there is danger - to reputation at least - with this absurd concept of yours?" the younger woman challenged.

Jane considered the question and decided not to rise to the baiting. Instead, she chose to address only the direct question. "If you are asking me if there is danger to someone caught cross-dressing?" she reposited. "Of course there is danger - nothing of value is completely without some risk. In the case of my program, well, a large percentage of the general population, perhaps even a majority, would consider that a perversion, and believe that it somehow diminishes the individual. We can thank our Anglo-American forebears for that bit of bias and bigotry."

"You don't consider forced cross-dressing perverse or diminishing?"

"Are you perverse? Are you in some way diminished?" Jane asked, her voice quietly stern. "After all, you're standing there dressed in a man-tailored pants-suit, Ms. Braithwaite."

"It's hardly the same thing, Ms. Thompson. Rightly or otherwise, our culture accepts my wearing such clothes and does not accept a man wearing skirts and dresses. There are no negative connotations to what I wear, and you cannot say that for what you have my brother doing."

"Just so, unfortunately," Jane answered coldly. "However, in the context of my program and of what I do with my young men, the answer to your question is no, what I do is not a perversity. My goals for the boys have nothing to do with their sexuality or their sexual orientation. I merely use the unspeakably terrible threat of discovery to force them to stop and think before they act inappropriately or misbehave. In some cases, that means finding something other than violence, or bad language as outlets for their repressed anger and emotion. When they've learned those lessons in skirts, then I try to have them impart those same lessons to another student to reinforce what they've learned. After that, they are ready to go back into their trousers, a better man for having had to live as a girl."

Totally bemused, Anne stared at Jane. "You really believe that?"

Jane gave a single regal nod in response. "I have the historical evidence of almost one hundred fine young men to back up what I say and what I do, Anne."

"So why was it so bad for Miss Tall Shanks here to strut her stuff at the hotel and drive me here today?"

"Because of those biases and bigotries, Anne," Jane said, her eyes intense. "As I said, my boys truly have very little to lose, because I won't let them be caught out. They're never put in a situation I don't think I can control in the event that something doesn't go strictly according to plan. In short, I protect them, even though it seems I am constantly pushing them into the limelight. Who would have protected Kenneth if some drunk had sideswiped him at the round-a-bout off Route 1? Suppose some local cop had been cheating on the speed limit because he was behind for his quota this month? Suppose Kenneth had been asked for his license? Kenneth is not a boy anymore, he's a man trying to build a career in one of the professions. I hope you can understand just how great a risk he took today."

At that, the tall blonde cast a quizzical look at the very tall brunette. "I was frankly surprised that he took me up on the challenge."

"That," Kendra interrupted, "was because I do believe in Jane, Anne. And because I believe, it was imperative that I get you here to see what she really does to her students, and more importantly, what she really does FOR her students."

"Kenneth," Jane said. "I think you should go change now. However ill-advised I consider your decision with regards to dressing, Ms. Braithwaite is now here so there's no longer any requirement for Kendra."

"Umm, I, ah, can't, Mom. Not for a few days, anyway."

One fine brow lifted in imperious command. "And why not?!"

 

 

 

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