Tales of the Season - Ken's Barbie

by Tigger
Copyright 2002

 

Chapter 13: Blondes Do Have More. . . Whatever

"What POSSIBLE reason could you have had to put the deep-dye cosmetics on Kendra, Marie?" Jane demanded before she was even through the kitchen door.

"And good day to you, Lady Jane," Marie replied grinning. "Lovely weather we're having."

"Don't pull that with me, Marie! We go back too far. Why ever did you do it? You had to know that will have him looking feminine for at least a week. And he tells me you didn't give him any of the solvent for those prosthetics."

"Looks good as Kendra, doesn't she?" Marie asked smugly.

"That's beside the point, Marie. Answer my question!"

"All right, Jane," Marie said seriously, drying her hands on a towel and taking a seat on one of the kitchen stools. "Sandy and I actually had two reasons, the first being that Kenneth isn't used to wearing and repairing cosmetics anymore. Since he was determined to do this, and was going to be in public, we didn't want Kendra caught out by badly chewed lipstick or poorly applied eyeliner."

"I suppose that makes a certain kind of sense. That boy always was the most determined of my students. You said you had two reasons?"

"You may not like hearing it," the little maid warned.

"He's already here, Marie, and he's determined to remain Kendra until the cosmetics wear off. The danger is mostly over so long as I keep him here. Give me the rest of it, please."

"We wanted him to have to stay as Kendra for a while."

"WHAT?!"

"You know he's always felt left out when Michelle and Darla came to visit. Ever since that growth spurt when he turned sixteen. As much as he never wanted to be Kendra at first, he's missed her since he decided she was lost to him. Sandy and I decided to show him she doesn't have to stay lost."

"And if he'd come to grief because of your little object lesson?" Jane asked tartly.

"He didn't," Marie said with a little Gallic shrug. "We knew he wouldn't."

Jane started to say something, but stopped herself. Marie grinned at her little victory. "Now, tell me truth, Jane. Isn't she lovely?"

"Harrumph," the Mistress of Seasons House responded. "My Kendra was a blonde."

"That IS your Kendra, you ungrateful wretch!"

"Oh, I know, and you're right, she's fabulous. It's just, well, I have a soft spot for boys as blondes."

"Oh HO!" Marie crowed as she saw the normally unflappable Jane Thompson actually blush. "At last it comes out! So, it's not just the stereotype of the 'dumb blonde' and its impact on the young male psyche, eh? Cherchez la jeune fille blonde, eh?"

"All right, so now you know my dirty little secret."

"Tres bien. So, Kendra becomes blonde." Marie said in a matter of fact voice totally belied by the mischievous grin lighting her eyes.

"Huh? You've lost me."

"Then listen, cherie, and learn."

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

Kendra sighed as he set the phone down.

"Problems?" Anne asked.

"That was Jane. I had dinner with her and Adrienne the night before I flew out to meet with you. She's afraid that if your brother gets a close look at me, he might see too close a resemblance between the Amazon Lady and the Lawyer Laddie so I can't stay up at the House. She doesn't want me just hanging about and has made reservations for me at a small motel down the road."

"Will you be able to come here and meet with me? Keep your bargain to explain things as they go?"

"That's not a problem, I just need to keep a low profile when Adrienne is out and about. Unfortunately, that means no living at home for me."

~---------~

Kendra was surprised to hear a knock on her motel door and checked through the view-piece. With a pleased exclamation, she unchained the door and pulled it open. "Tante Marie!" she cheered. "Did you bring me anything to eat?"

"Something better, cherie."

"Something better than your food? I have no idea what that could be!"

"Clothes, you silly," Marie chided, reaching into the bag she carried. "You cannot live in that oh-so-lovely dress until the cosmetics fade. I brought you some more of Jasmine's old things including a lovely pair of jeans."

"I hope they're a little bigger than this dress - I'd really like to loosen my stays, if you don't mind."

"Oh, very well. If you insist. I also may have a solution to your problem with living at home."

"How?"

"I have found another wig for you to try on. You'll have to wear it all the time, but with a little work on your part, you should be able to confuse the issue of your real identity. It is not as if la petite Adrienne is all that observant or caring of those around her. Yet."

"Eh? Another wig? I don't follow you, Marie. I'll still be tall and very noticeable, regardless of how clueless Jane's problem child is or is not."

"That one? Phaugh. Remember another of Jane's rules? People will jump to their own conclusions. If you play your role well, Adrienne will never see you for the so-very-proper male attorney."

"What role are you talking about, Tante Marie?" Kendra asked suspiciously. "As you and Sandy pointed out, I'm not very good at the subtleties anymore."

"That's why this is so perfect, cherie. Remember last Halloween? You, Michelle and Darla were playing in the front parlor between trick or treaters, doing feminine impersonations?"

"I remember. So?"

"So, you did one they both could not match and told you so. Jane and I were most impressed, too."

A feeling of dread ran down Kendra's spine, and she stared in disbelief at the little housekeeper. "Oh, no - not that, Marie," she choked out through a throat suddenly dry and unresponsive. "Besides, Jane would KILL me - AFTER she shredded my guts."

"Pooh. Stuff and nonsense. It might be just what she needs to put some discipline into that little hoyden, Adrienne. Someone so blatant might even prove to be an asset at this point. Perhaps Jane can use such an example to encourage her own improvement."

"You don't really believe that," Kendra growled.

Marie became serious and shook her head. "We may not have much time, dear, whether you are successful with Miss Braithwaite or not. Something radical may be called for with this one. I have," Marie said offhandedly, "Discussed this plan with Jane and she is in agreement - assuming that you intend to remain on the estate until the makeup clears off your face."

"I see." Kenneth went very silent for a few moments and then cast an uncertain eye on his little adopted aunt. "How blatant, Tante Marie?"

"Oh, I think you should have a marvelous time, ma belle. Like the sweet-natured woman who plays la chienne - the bitch on the soaps."

"Uh huh," the tall cross-dressed man replied, "I guess I have to hope that you are right about that. Tell me, Tante Marie, this wig you've found. . ."

"Oui?"

"It wouldn't be platinum blonde, would it?"

"Non, ma belle. It is most definitely NOT platinum blonde."

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

It was a deep honey-blonde, extremely full and fluffy, and nearly butt-length, even on the very tall Kendra, and it was bloody-damned heavy, too boot!

And Kenneth, the man inside the woman, hated it with a deeply felt passion that he could not rationalize, even to himself. Because Jane felt it necessary if Kendra was to remain in the area, he tried to accept it with good grace, but found it difficult, if not impossible.

This was so different, he thought as he gazed at Kendra staring back at him from the mirror, from playing 'dumb blonde' with his brothers after a bit too much of Momma Jane's excellent brandy. Michael and Darryl understood that it was a game - that whatever else happened, that what they saw wasn't him, wasn't Kenneth Roberts. The clothes, the makeup, the frou-frou were just window dressing to them.

*It's like the old kid's jingle, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me'. Jane and Marie don't see this as anything more than just another facet of the disguise. If I've agreed to be Kendra, one Kendra is much the same as another, right? Should be, but somehow, just like words do hurt, something about THIS Kendra bothers me. I just can't seem to put my finger on what or why.*

With conscious effort, Kenneth tried to slip back into Kendra's role and mindset. Smiling sheepishly, she turned darkly-lashed eyes to the expectantly waiting Marie. "I feel like a refugee from a Darryl Hannah movie," she grumbled in tones she hoped sounded at least somewhat good natured.

"More breathiness in your speech, if you please, ma belle," Marie ordered, beaming happily. "And don't forget the grand hand gestures."

 

 

Chapter 14: Old Ghosts

Kendra spent the next morning at the motel room practicing at being female again. Marie had given her a list of 'things to remember about being a girl' that included such things as 'walking in heels', sitting and standing properly, accessorizing the outfits Marie had sent over from Seasons House and a myriad of other 'little things'.

Unlike Darryl who had stayed on with Jane, Kenneth Roberts did not have an abundance of experience in the nuances of masquerading as a woman. And it was the little things, Kendra knew, that would make or break her cover - particularly in the company of real women. Women noticed those little things, unlike men who could, at best, be relied upon to see only the 'big picture'.

So she practiced. Offering her hand, wrist bent. Smoothing her skirt as she took a seat, taking care to keep her legs together. Being aware of the hemline of her skirt when she bent or moved her body. Reacquainting herself with Mr. Webster's escort, as she walked about the room in heels. She even practiced when her room service breakfast and lunch were served because a woman even handles cutlery and table services differently than does a man.

*It's as though I am going through Aunt Jane's program, crash study style, but without Aunt Jane or Tante Marie around to help. Lord, I hope I'm doing some of this right.*

In the course of these 'exercises', Kendra took to using the various mirrors in the motel room to evaluate her performance. Soon, she began to find herself simply staring at the image reflected there. A growing sense of some emotion akin to discomfort began to niggle at her each time she caught herself so involved. When she tried to analyze this feeling, she could not precisely put her finger on what it was that bothered her - or why. Certainly, the addition of a blonde hairstyle drastically changed her looks - something that had been the cause of several neck-snapping double-takes that morning, but whatever it was that was bothering her was more than just the golden curls that now framed her face and fell down her back.

*Maybe I'm reacting to Aunt Jane's not-at-all-subtle use of the 'dumb blonde' stereotype. Rationally, I know that she uses that image precisely for the humiliation-factor it offers. Jane can, after all, use her students' own prejudices to dig deeply into their heads. Am I reacting to those stereotypes or to the negative baggage that Sheila saddled me? And yet, Michelle and Darla are both blondes, as is Daddy-Di when she bothers with a hair color other than silver. What the hell does that say about my feelings?* she wondered.

She was about to go just a bit insane when the phone on the bedside table rang, providing her with a very welcome break from her so-far fruitless self-examination and other 'studies.'.

"Kendra Roberts," she said into the receiver, pleased to have remembered to use that name.

"Kendra? You're still en femme, brother-dear?" a familiar, feminine voice responded. "I figured you'd be happily back in grey pinstripes by now. Darla here, by the way."

"Hey, sis. It's a long story, but it's still sis, not brother. The short version is that Sandy and Marie decided I needed the long-lasting makeup as a hedge against being found out, so I'm Kendra for at least another week or so."

"You okay with that, bro?" and this time, it was Darryl's voice that asked.

"Like I said, it's only a week or so, and besides, Sandy and Marie told me what they planned to do with the cosmetics along with the 'why' before they did it to me. I agreed with their logic, so now I have to live with the aftermath. It's not so bad, I guess. What's up with you?"

"Mom wants Audrey and me - that is, Audrey and Darla - to be on call to help with Adrienne. Particularly while Ms Braithwaite's here."

"Okay. I guess that make sense. What do you need?"

"An introduction. After the wedding, Marie moved all my Darla stuff down at the stable apartment for storage - since 'Tall-stuff' and I use it as our place when we come visiting now. Unfortunately, Ms. Braithwaite is staying there right now and she hasn't been properly or even improperly introduced to me or to Tante Marie."

"Oh lord, I can just see it. You and Marie knocking on her door. 'Excuse us, but could we borrow your place to change this one into a girl so she can help Jane pick on your brother?' Wouldn't THAT go over well."

"It's not THAT bad, bro," Darryl responded, disgust evident in his voice.

"You know that, D, and *I* know that. SHE doesn't know it or believe it."

There was a loud sigh from the other end. "All the more reason to play this as straight as possible, then. So, could you meet us there, say about seven thirty or so, so that we can pick up some stuff - maybe help talk her into letting me use the second bedroom to get beautiful?"

"Fine with me, but why doesn't Momma-Jane simply call or introduce you herself?"

"Marie needs to be there with me 'cause she knows where she's put my stuff, so Mom needs to be at the house with Adrienne. Jess had to go off to sit a couple of exams today and isn't available. Besides, now that I've talked with you, I think it's pretty clear that Mom is playing this one very tightly, too. Because of the lawsuit thing. She wants witnesses to every contact, I guess."

"Makes good sense to me. Look, D, I will call Anne. If it's okay with her, I'll meet you there at seven thirty. Where can I reach you if there's a problem."

"Thanks, Kendra. You can reach me at Mike's place. See you tonight."

Kendra started a bit at the easy acceptance and use of her feminine name by her brother, then relaxed. Darla had a lot of experience switching between names and genders for herself and for others. *Just another little benefit - or is it another little downside? Whatever - it's what comes of being raised as Jane's duty 'big sister' at Seasons House. Wonder if Jess will turn out the same way?*

And then another thought occurred to her. "Do I regret not having stayed with Jane and learned those same skills and lessons?"

It was a question to which neither Kendra nor Kenneth could find a wholly satisfactory answer.

~-------~

"Goodness, but you seem even taller than you did yesterday morning," Anne Braithwaite blurted out when she opened her door to admit Kendra later that day.

"Taller heels," Kendra muttered as she slipped inside the snug apartment. "Jane sent me some additional outfits today - she once had a very tall student - but unfortunately, most of the shoes she had in my size all have at least a three inch heel."

"Those have to be more than three inches," Anne challenged as she closed the door and followed her guest into the living area.

"They are, but unfortunately, they're the only pair that went with this outfit, and the stores in this area are closed on Sundays. Trust me - one way or another, I am getting some less demanding shoes as soon as a I can, including some of those running shoes women wear when they carry their dress shoes to work."

Anne considered that, and nodded. "Sounds like a plan. It's not just the shoes, though. That hair makes you look even taller, I think. Another of those 'hiding in plain sight' things you mentioned?"

Kendra started to explain that it was for Adrienne's 'benefit' and reconsidered. *She may not like hearing that her darling brother may get vamped by a six-three blonde amazon ditz.* "That's certainly part of it. I think Mom is also worried that I might be made as Kenneth if I stayed a brunette."

The natural-blonde shrugged at that. "Maybe. I made you, but I was prepared to expect you to be a guy dressed as a woman, and moreover, you called me just before coming up to my room. I'm not sure someone who didn't already know you would have seen anything to give away your disguise. Well, you look, um, pretty spectacular. That hair. . . "

"I know," Kendra said sourly, the uneasy discomfort she'd dealt with all day coming back on her in full measure under Anne's close scrutiny. "I told Marie to find a wig that wouldn't give Dolly Parton nightmares, and darned quick."

"It's not THAT bad," Anne said, suddenly unable to stifle a giggle.

The unexpected laughter somehow lightened Kendra's mood, and she teased back. "How about YOU wearing it to the grocery store and see what you think then!"

"I don't think so. You're much cuter than I could ever be in it."

Kendra gave Anne a look of utter disbelief. *She REALLY can't believe that,* the taller girl thought.

"Well," Anne continued in a more serious tone, "You don't look in the least bit masculine. You look like a Vegas showgirl."

"Thanks a lot!" Visions of sequins, even taller heels and feathered headdresses filled Kendra's mind, and she cringed.

"Oh, you're quite welcome," Anne teased, only to stop short at the truly unhappy look on taller blonde's face. "Oh, come on, Kendra. What's the big deal? You're not likely to be caught out as either, and if your mother thinks this will better help you maintain your anonymity, well, I suspect she has a good deal of experience with this type of deception. If what you told me yesterday is the truth, that is."

"Oh, it's the truth, all right. Jane's orders - no more lies or even half or hidden truths insofar as you are concerned. It's just that I've felt, well, really uncomfortable today."

"So," Anne pounced, "You're not all that unaffected by the masquerade, eh? Playing at being a girl isn't as harmless as you tried to convince me?"

"It's not that," Kendra said slowly, still struggling with the feeling of general unease that had been her companion most of the day. "I didn't feel this way yesterday. I was nervous, even anxious a couple of times there out in public, but this is different."

Anne was considering that when a sharp rap sounded at the door. "That must be Tante Marie and my brother," Kendra said. "I'll get it and make the introductions."

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

Mouth agape, Darryl could only stare at the tall expanse of blonde, blatant femininity that held the door open for his and Marie's entry. "Fermez la bouche, m'enfant," Marie ordered. "You will catch flies!"

"Oh. . .Oh, yeah, umm, sure," Darryl mumbled and slipped inside, stepping carefully around the now-glaring Kendra. Darryl had always secretly envied his brother's growth spurt, even as he'd been happy being able to be Darla at his or Jane's whim. Still, he'd always wished he could have had just a few of Kenneth's extra inches. *It would be nice to be able to look my wife eye-to-eye without wearing high heels,* he thought wistfully.

A mischievous imp, one that Darryl/Darla usually managed to keep firmly under control, slipped her leash. Gravely, Darryl walked around his increasingly annoyed sibling, murmuring inarticulate sounds of approval and disapproval.

When he came to a stop in front of Kendra, she growled, "Are you THROUGH yet, smart ass?"

"Lord, sis, but when you go 'girl', you don't do it halfway, do you? I haven't seen you looking this good since we all teamed up with to go after Sheila." Darryl had turned to face his audience of two, so he missed the telltale signs of a break in Kendra's normally resolute self control. When he returned his attention to his brother/sister, the momentary slip had been masked over. "Geez, girl. Did you have to go quite that over-the-top doing the Mattel-thing?"

"Darryl. . " Kendra warned.

"Mattel-thing?" Anne asked, her curiosity irresistibly piqued.

"Well, her guy name is Ken - just like the Mattel doll, right? Well, if there was ever anyone more like a living breathing Barbie-Doll than that GOR-geous specimen of blonde pulchritude over there, I've never seen it. When you go blonde, Kendra, you GO, girl! Heck, Barbie might even be a really useful name for you while Adrienne is here."

"Stop right there!" Anne Braithwaite actually snarled.

"Huh?" Startled, the imp in Darryl found herself face-to-face with a suddenly furious genetic girl who was even taller than his beloved wife. "I beg your pardon?"

"As well you should for that insulting comment about blondes, but it's your BROTHER who you really owe an apology! As I understand it, he is IN this condition in order to help your MOTHER. Your comments about that damned doll, and comparisons of him to her are . . are. . ."

Darryl's temper was even less prominent than the imp, but it flared in the face of the unexpected flanking attack. "BACK OFF," he snarled up into Anne's furious eyes, "It was a joke, o-KAY? It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that resemblance, and if she can't take a joke from a friend, what's she gonna do when some dude on the street starts hitting on her, or worse?"

"Easy, bro. . " Kendra warned, moving toward the eye-locked pair.

Marie stepped in between Darryl and Anne as the tall blonde struggled to find words. "Pardon, mademoiselle," the little housekeeper said gently, "But this one plays the fool every so often. It is one reason we both love him and often want to kill him. And while he is correct in his assessment that a new name for Kendra might be a good idea while your brother is in residence at Seasons House, he expressed himself poorly. Darryl truly meant no harm or insult. Is that not so, cheri?"

Darryl carefully kept Marie between himself and the Valkryie with the green fire in her eyes. "I am very sorry, Ms. Braithwaite," he said before turning to face a brother clearly struggling with his emotions. "God, Ken, I'm really. . .you know I wouldn't. . oh hell. I'm sorry."

Kendra took a deep breath and tried to clear her head. "It's okay, Darryl. Don't worry about it."

But he would, Darryl knew. He'd worry about it a lot until he found out what was bothering his big brother, but that was for another time when there wasn't a stranger around. A stranger, who intended to bring everything Momma-Jane had worked for down around their collective ears. "Tante Marie? My things?"

"I will get them, dear. You stay here with Kendra and Ms. Braitwaite."

"I'm going to be staying at the same motel as you, Kendra."

"Oh?" Kendra replied noncommittally.

"Yeah. You wouldn't have a spare razor, would you? I forgot. ."

Darryl came up short as Kendra's eyes and mouth went open - first in disbelief, then in shock and then in raw angry fury.

"You goddamned well know I don't!" Kenneth's voice bellowed as he ran toward the door as fast as the spiked heels permitted.

 

 

Chapter 15: In My Midnight Confessions, When I Tell All the World

Darryl, Marie and Anne stared in stunned silence at the vibrating door. "Shit, I seem to be screwing up by the numbers tonight," the short young man said to Marie. "I can't BELIEVE I SAID that!"

"What set him off?" Anne asked, her eyes still fixed on the now-silent door.

Marie and Darryl looked at each other uncertainly. "Ken. . .dra," the young man said carefully, "has a . . . a problem with shaving, Ms. Braithwaite. We had, that's Jane, Marie and I, had thought - hoped he'd gotten over it, but apparently he hasn't. Marie? What do I do now? Go to him?"

"Let him be alone for a bit, cheri. There is more to this than just. . .shaving."

"Well, he's upset!" Anne fumed. "First that damned blonde Barbie crack and then whatever this is all about. Cripes, but I'm glad you're not MY brother if this is how you treat him. You can stay here if you want. Kendra said you wanted to use the spare bedroom to change? Fine, go ahead. I'm going to find him," and she stormed out, leaving Marie and Darryl once again staring at a slammed shut door in utter confusion.

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

She found him. . . her down in the stables. The tall, leggy blonde was standing in front of a stall, her arms wrapped tightly around the neck of a patient roan saddlebred, her forehead pressed tightly against the horse's cheek.

"Kendra?" she called softly. Anne saw the arms wrapped about the

horse tense momentarily and then relax. Kendra's entire body seemed to shudder, and then she pushed herself erect and turned to face the other girl.

Kendra's eyelashes were spiky from tears and there were shiny tracks down her cheeks where the harsh incandescent lights glinted off the remnants of recent crying. "Hi," she responded.

"I came down to see if you were all right. Is there something I can do?" Kendra shook her head. "You want to talk about what upset you so? Sometimes it helps to talk to someone, well, someone who isn't involved."

"Didn't Darryl tell you?" Kendra asked snappishly. "Brother was pretty free with his mouth tonight."

Anne walked over to put a comforting hand on Kendra's arm. "All he said was that you have a problem with shaving, but that's all he said. If it is any consolation, he's really upset that he hurt you."

This time, thee shorter girl felt the shudder, and looked up to see the pain on her companion's face. "I guess what upsets me the most is that I was. . . hell, AM . . . upset at all."

"Well, that makes a lot of sense," Anne said with heavy irony.

Kendra gave a half laugh and smiled wearily. "Doesn't it. Look, you want to take a walk? I, uh, need to get some air. . .clear my head a bit."

"Sure. It's safe, isn't it? I mean, it's dark and awfully isolated."

"City girl," Kendra chided. "We'll be perfectly safe. Jane has the place wired with all kinds of surveillance stuff. No one gets on these grounds without her knowing. Let me call upstairs and tell them I'm all right and going out, first."

They met outside the stable and began walking down one of the paved, moonlit trails. "Want to explain that bit about shaving?" Anne asked after they'd walked a few hundred yards in companionable silence.

"It's that I can't. . . or rather, don't have anything to shave. No where on my face or body. Not a single living hair follicle below my eyes."

"I've heard of medical conditions like that. A boy at my high school had some kind of genetic thing."

"I used to have hair," Kendra told her.

"You're not making much sense."

"My mother. . . ," Kendra started, and felt her throat tighten. "I guess you'd have to say she is a sick person. Anyway, she. . .she tried to turn me into a freak - sort of a half male/half female slave - quite literally. One of her favorite tricks was to dye my hair blonde whenever she could. Succeeded more times than I care to admit. Then, when I was about to go through puberty, she took me to this quack. The guy had stolen a developmental laser hair removal technology. She dragged me into that guy's shop every week for almost half a year. By the time he was finished, I had nails, brows, lashes and hair on my head. The rest of me is as hairless as a baby."

"Your MOTHER did that to you?" Anne flared, sudden white-hot fury literally radiating off her in the darkness.

"Huh? Yeah, she did. And would have done a lot more."

"And THAT'S the kind of BITCH you believe should be in charge of my BROTHER?!?!"

Emotional fatigue slowed Kendra's normally sharp mind. "What does Sheila have to do with your brother?"

"Who's Sheila?" Anne demanded. "We're talking about your Mother - Jane Thompson."

"Sheila Roberts is my Mother."

Now it was Anne's turn to be confused. "You said Jane Thompson was your Mom. You've called her that in my presence."

Understanding finally made it through Ken's thickening skull. "Sheila bore me, gave birth to me, but that is all she did. A damned test tube could have done as much with less potential harm. Jane saved my life when Sheila tried to destroy me with her perverted games. Jane IS my Mother - at least in every way that counts. Sheila's part of it was just an accident of birth - quite literally."

"I don't understand."

"It's a long story," Kendra told her, "And one I'm not up to telling right now. Suffice it to say that everything I am or hope to be, I owe to Jane Thompson. I'd do anything for her."

"Including wearing women's clothing in public?"

"That's about the size of it. You know? Something has been bothering me all day, and I just now figured out what it is." Kendra thought aloud. "Going blonde - just like Sheila always wanted - then having Dar' tease me like he did with that lame blonde joke. After all that, the mere mention of shaving," Kendra shook her head as it started to become clear in her mind, "It brought the whole sorry mess back. Sort of like a major dose of Sheila all at once. The thing of it is that I really AM Kendra now, in a way I never was before. Not even when I was first with Aunt Jane."

"What do you mean? You said you hadn't done this in a very long time, but it sounds like you mean something more significant than that."

Kendra's reply was dreamily reflective, her words coming slowly and thoughtfully. "Before, the things I did, the way I looked, that was just . . . external. I looked cute, and I dressed nicely and had good manners, but it . . .*I* was, well, sexless. I, um, that Kendra was cute and she was VERY feminine, but she wasn't a sex object, you know? This Kendra is all of that . . . more than that."

"I'll say, about a foot more, from what you've told me."

"Darryl's not the only cute little blonde around here with a smart mouth."

"LITTLE?!?!?"

"Try seeing things from my point of view, girl. But in response to your comment, that's really not what I mean. Take this hair for instance. It's just so. . so . . sensuous. No woman wears her hair this long unless she really likes being a woman, really *enjoys* what it means to be pretty, and sensual, and attractive, as a woman. It's too much of a nuisance, otherwise. That's not, or at least I didn't think it was . . . me."

"That's why I don't like the Barbie reference," Anne replied. "That image is so fake. Only plastic can be that perfect. Real women are more than pretty clothes, impossible hair and pink convertibles."

"Believe me, I know. That's the problem. When I look in the mirror, I see, God, I see something out of a fantasy - something that should have a staple in her navel - and yet, at the same some, something that's very, very real. Only it's Sheila's fantasy, in a way that the young girl Kendra never even approached, much less wanted to approach."

The pair came upon an old-fashioned glider swing and sat on the wooden seats facing each other. "I guess I can understand how things can get blown out of proportion," Anne remarked as she pushed off with her feet. "I suppose I have to apologize to your brother, too. The name Barbie just. . ."

"We noticed," Kendra put in drily.

"Hard to miss, isn't it?"

"Mind sharing why? I mean, I'm sure you know you're very attractive. Why does it bother you?"

"Me? Attractive? Look, don't you start, okay? I know I shouldn't let it bother me, but it does, okay? It's just hard being so. . .so obvious, and I ALWAYS have been. I was fourteen years old before any boy in my class caught up with me, height-wise. Then, the change hit me and all of the sudden not ONLY am I another four inches taller, but I'm putting on weight in all the strangest places so my balance is all screwed up, AGAIN, spoiling whatever small amount of grace I might once have had."

"It's not easy being special."

"You don't have to pretend, Kendra, I know I'm not desirable to men, not REALLY attractive. That's part of the reason that the whole Barbie-thing bugs me. That damned doll is just so. . .so unattainably perfect, and then there's my brother."

"What? He's unattainably perfect, too?"

"Not hardly," Anne said, almost growling. "It's just that he knows how much the whole 'Barbie' thing bugs me. Calls me 'Barbie' every chance he gets just to get my goat because along with being tall, blonde, and . . umm, buxom, Barbie is alone and isolated, too. I mean, does SHE ever get laid?"

"Laid?" Kendra choked, not quite sure how to respond to that.

Anne snorted disgustedly. "Well, she doesn't and neither do I, but it's more than that. No one touches her in that special way lovers touch no one CAN touch her that way. She's a plastic doll, not a living, sensual woman."

*She really doesn't have any idea,* Kendra realized. *My God! Does that mean she's a . . . whoa, Roberts - stop that thought right there. This is not the time or the place for THAT kind of thinking . . .unless she wants to say more?*

Kendra let the silence continue, but in vain. Anne had evidently said all she intended to say - perhaps more than she'd wanted to say, so the taller woman decided to return to the earlier issue as a means of easing the tension. "He does it to get your goat, you know. It's a power thing. You react and he's won."

"That's one of those stupid guy-things, right?" Anne demanded, her eyes narrowed into slits. "One of those excuses for 'men behaving badly' and getting away with it because 'boys will be boys'?"

"Probably, but I suspect that it may be a gal-thang, too."

"Harrumph," was all she said in response. "You really going to let them call you Barbie?"

"Not if it bothers you that much," Kendra replied. "It doesn't bother me because the name has no negative emotional baggage for me - not like the things I associate with Sheila have for me and I am willing to endure those for Jane and the others. But if hearing me called 'Barbie' will be difficult for you, then I'll find another name to hide my identity. Muffy or something."

A giggle answered him. "Muffy? Why not Poopsie, for god's sake?"

"Hey, I have some standards. Barbie suits the persona Marie has recommended, but I don't think your brother is sharp enough to be aware of the subtlety of a name when faced with the stark reality of six foot seven inches of blonde-amazon-Marilyn-Monroe-wannabe in killer stiletto spikes."

"GOD, what an image," Anne giggled before finishing, "Oh, go ahead and be Barbie if you think that will help your verisimilitude."

"If you say so," Kendra grinned. "I always just called it 'passing-in-public'."

"Well, at least one of us is smiling now. Feel better?" Anne asked. "Ready to go back and deal with your brother?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Anne. I really appreciate your. . .your company, and your caring."

"De nada, chela," she said, stepping off the swing and offering Kendra her hand. "C'mon, Barbie, let's head back. I'm sure your aunt and brother will be worrying about you."

Kendra - now Barbie - followed her back to the trail. "You know? If you're going to be around, we ought to give you an alias, too. That way, if we slip up and talk about you in Adrienne's hearing, she won't put two and two together."

"Well, that DEFINITELY means you have to be the very obvious Barbie, girl. No way little brother will think of me with you running around - probably naked - in his short term memory."

Barbie choked on that image, eliciting another giggle from Anne. "So, since that name is taken, what do you suggest for me?"

"Oh, I've got a great idea for you, shortie," Barbie said, taking her companion's hand. "Darryl's little Ken and Barbie shtick earlier reminded me of something. Riddle me this, Anne Braithwaite. Who was Barbie's little friend?"

"Huh? I have NO idea what you are talking about, Barbie."

"Hi, Skipper."

"WhaaaAAAAT??!?!"

~---------~

"I really am sorry, Sis. I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay, Dar," Barbie-Kendra said with a hug. "I over-reacted. We'll talk about it later, okay? A lot of old baggage came home to roost all of a sudden. I wasn't ready for it, and you got caught in the explosion. Probably a good thing it happened here and not in public or around Adrienne."

Anne couldn't help staring at the . . . person so earnestly talking to Barbie. In the time the two blondes had been gone, Darryl had been working on his own transformation. He'd greeted them at the door squeezed into a white, heavily boned merry widow-style corset that gave him the illusion of girlish curves that looked somehow incomplete thanks to the as-yet empty and bagging bra cups.

*Wonder what he'll use to fill those?* Anne wondered, just as something odd on the kitchen table caught her eye. Strolling over to investigate, she picked up the jiggly little mound, testing the weight of it in her hand. "Cute," she observed aloud as she ran an inquisitive thumb over the tip of one perky nipple. "Adrian told me about these. I thought he was exaggerating."

"He probably was," the small man-woman observed. "Those are grown-up girl-sized boobs. Mom usually starts her girls out in training bras without falsies, just to get their goat by making them not just girls, but LITTLE girls to boot. Good for getting their attention."

"I see," Anne said, her tones still dubious.

Darryl/Darla grinned. "No you don't, but if you keep an open mind, we'll try to fix that." His (her) face was subtly made-up, but the subtlety was lost because of his masculine haircut, still awaiting the donning of a suitable wig. One hand had false, if yet unpolished, feminine nails installed while those of his other hand were as yet still short and blunt; a manicure suited to a man. Anne thought that looking at Darryl/Darla was like looking at a computer morph stopped in mid-transformation.

"You are all right, now, ma gallante?" Marie asked Kendra, with a hug of her own.

"Thanks to Anne. . .I mean, Skipper over there."

"Skipper?" the darkhaired housekeeper asked. "Who is Skipper? Ms. Braithwaite?"

"Yep," Barbie grinned. "We decided that if I am going to be Barbie, we needed a different alias for her - just to keep the confusion to a minimum."

"YOU decided," Anne-Skipper muttered. "I don't think I was given a choice in the matter."

"Ken, Barbie and Skipper," Almost-Darla said in wonder. "Kewl!"

"YOU, little sister, have spent entirely too much of your formative years playing with dolls," Barbie accused.

"Mom's idea, and you know what that means."

"Yeah, I do. More likely to win an argument with an avalanche," the tallest blonde pronounced.

"So it is a good thing she is always right, eh, petite?" Marie put in.

"Oui, Tante Marie," the two cross-dressed males agreed in unision.

"Well trained," Skipper noted approvingly. "Perhaps there is something to Ms. Thompson's training."

The imp reappeared in Darla's eyes and she snatched up the pillows from the couch, tossing one to Barbie. "I think that deserves a suitable response, sis."

The impromptu pillow fight surprised and pleased them all. In five short minutes, a great deal of tension was relieved in the hay-go-mad whirl of chasing each other about the room swinging velvet-cased pillows at any nearby feminine form. The mock battle ended when Barbie had to come to Darla's aid - Skipper had cornered the diminutive blonde in a corner and was peppering her small opponent with pillow-blows.

"Okay, okay, I surrender!" Darla squealed, holding her hands above her head while Barbie playfully pulled away the victorious Ms. Braithwaite. One look in the nearby mirror had Darla wincing. "My mascara is RUINED!" she squealed to everyone else's laughing amusement. "Look, I will finish getting myself beautiful and get out of your way, Ms. Braithwaite. Kendra? I mean, Barbie? Can I ride to the motel with you? We should both go see Sandy, first thing tomorrow, anyway."

"Why do I need to go back to the Chalet tomorrow, Sis?"

"Your makeup. Those colors aren't quite right for a blonde. You need to change your look, or you'll really stand out when you're in public, and frankly, my dear, you aren't really good enough at the masquerade anymore to stand THAT much scrutiny. So, you're going to need Sandy because with that damned deep-dye stuff of Mom's on your face, you'll need her expert help to fix it."

"I'm supposed to be obvious, Dar. Remember, this is Valley Girl Bimbo-Bobbie mode, remember?"

"Nevertheless," Darla retorted, "you're someone Momma-Jane supposedly knows and thinks enough of to have at Seasons House. You can't be that much of a ditz. Right now, that particular makeup job is just too dramatic for the blonde hairdo. I think it could well become troublesome for you here and out in public."

"Unfortunately, sis, my own makeup skills won't be up to the task of keeping up that kind of look, either. Particularly with these other colors still lurking underneath just waiting to peek through."

Darla shrugged her bare shoulders, and grinned mischievously. "Then you'll have to use the deep-dye stuff again, Barbie. Which is another reason why we need Sandy. You need the real experts for this."

Kendra-Barbie considered that, and nodded. "Okay, I agree with that. I assume you've already made appointments for tomorrow?"

"Caro and Sandy both, an hour before normal opening." Darla confirmed.

"Right. Well, put some clothes on that skinny bod before you embarrass my little friend, Skipper, and let's get on the road. You need your beauty sleep."

"Excuse me?" she said, surprising herself as much as the two cross-dressed young men. "But, I was wondering if I might go with you tomorrow? I'd, well, I would like to meet the two women who run that shop. Especially the one who threatened to take Adrienne to New York to entertain her kinky friends."

"I told you that she threatens every boy with that," Kendra-Barbie sighed. "Hasn't happened yet. Won't ever happen. It's Sandy's version of a 'two-by-four in the face' to get the kid's attention."

"All the same, Barbie, I want to meet her, and if the shop is opening early for just the two of you, then there won't be anyone else to hear what I have to say to her, will there? Or, I could go later, say, about lunchtime? But there might be a real rush then. A lot of women with big ears and bigger mouths? That's the way it is at the shop I patronize."

A sudden mischievous grin flitted across Barbie's face. Darla caught it and sucked in a breath, having seen just such a look all too often on her Mother's face, immediately before things became just a little too interesting. "Pick you up at seven thirty?" Kendra offered, smiling oh-so-very-sweetly.

"Make is seven and I'll have fresh coffee waiting for you."

 

 

 

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