Tales of the Season - Ken's Barbie

by Tigger
Copyright 2002

 

Chapter 42: Revelations

Adrian Braithwaite was, much to his own amusement, rather uncomfortable at that particular moment. The cotton jockey shorts he'd all but lusted for, over the course of the past few months, were chafing skin more used to the slick feel of satin. Legs that had gotten used to being bare, save for nylon and silk, felt positively weighted down by the blue jeans Marie had given him. Not to mention the odd hitch wearing flat-heeled sneakers put in his gait.

And his hair was missing! His head felt so. .so light! Taken as a whole, he felt nearly as strange now as he had those first hellish days here at Seasons House.

It had been quite a day, so far, with many surprises - Dr. Hurst's response to his - that is, Adrienne's - secret, the tear down by a much more pleasant-to-know Sandy, and Ms. Thompson all but ordering him to call her 'Aunt Jane'. Wasn't THAT a shock? And she'd actually SMILED when she said it - not one of her 'I've got you right where I want you' smiles, either. One that actually looked, well, nice.

Of course, the biggest surprise was Barbie. . .Anne announcing she was getting married, and meeting that Ken-guy. Again, Actually, Adrian admitted to himself - it wasn't really the first time he'd met the guy - the first time had been when he was Adrienne. With any luck, the new Adrian would be so different from the nasty little witch that Kenneth had met before that his sister's intended would not make the connection between them. Lord above, the guy might decide Anne wasn't such a bargain, after all, not with a snot like that coming as part of the deal. And Annie had assured him she still loved him.

Just one more surprise, the boy thought as he made his way down toward the stables. He certainly had gone out of his way to make himself as unlovable as possible. He was really glad he'd failed at that, at least.

~-~

Adrian was just walking out of the stable, having fed apples to Teddi and Garters - he'd miss those two when he and Annie went back to Indianapolis, or rather, to Providence to live with her new husband - when a some guy came running up the lane towards the stable.

Besides Kenneth, this was the first non-female he'd seen at Seasons House. For a while, Adrian had wondered if there was some kind of curse on the place - any male coming through the gates was turned into a girl.

He was, well. . . the only word for it was short - with blond hair somewhat on the long side slicked back from his face and held by a sweatband. For a moment, Adrian thought he was just a kid - a teen about his own age, but discarded that notion as the runner came closer. There was just something about him that said 'mature'. Adrian continued to observe the newcomer, and noted that he ran with a fluid grace that Adrian envied, for running had never been something at which he'd excelled. He ran in through the fence gate and slowed to a walk, moving about the mounting area, breathing deeply. "Hi there," the young man called as he finished his cool-out. "Want to toss me that towel behind you?"

Adrian looked behind him and sure enough, found a white towel hanging from the doorlatch. He picked it up and handed it over. "I'm Adrian Braithwaite."

"Darryl," the runner answered, still breathing deeply.

"You run far?"

"Only five miles, but don't noise that about. My wife can't run right now, and she'd be mightily annoyed if she thought I was slacking off just because she's not allowed to train for the next few months."

"Train? Is she some sort of athlete? And if it's not prying, why can't she train now?"

The blond fellow preened a bit, and grinned. "She's a world-class athlete. She may be the first woman to compete head-to-head with men in the pentathlon. But right now, she's quite thoroughly pregnant."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

Adrian found himself having to think about not staring at this Darryl person. There was something familiar about him. Something about the way he carried his head, or the way he moved - definitely familiar and yet, Adrian was equally sure that he'd never met this guy before.

"You know," Darryl said, a funny, higher tone in his voice, "if one is going to move about the horse stalls, one should REALLY learn to watch where one steps. That . . . matter on your shoe is simply disgusting." The sniff that accompanied that statement had little to do with absorbing the . . . aroma that filled the air. It was a gesture of disdain that Adrian had seen before, from . . . .

Adrian felt his mouth drop open in recognition. It COULDN'T be!

Could it?

A familiar smirking smile twisted the mouth of the suddenly almost-feminine face, and Adrian knew. "Ms. SMITH?!?!" he yelped.

"Took you long enough to figure it out, kid," Ms. Darla Smith's caustic tones said, just before Darryl's laugh broke through. "Welcome to the family, Adrian."

"I . . I don't understand. You? I mean, you too?"

Darryl smiled and put a companionable if somewhat sweaty arm about Adrian's shoulder. "C'mon upstairs with me, and I'll tell you the whole story while I get cleaned up."

"O. . . okay. . "

"But remember to wipe your filthy shoes!" Ms. Smith snapped.

"Yes, Ma'am!" Adrienne's voice answered instantly.

~-~

"It went well, mon brave?" Marie asked as she poured the herbal tea she'd substituted for Jane's preferred Darjeelung. After all, La Belle Audrey was en ciente, and caffeine was not good for l'enfante.

"Mostly - although I wish I'd had a camera the moment he figured out who I am. . . was, that is."

Jane looked up from suspiciously eyeing the flowery-scented tea. "Mostly? Are there still issues?"

Darryl sighed and cuddled closer to Audrey, happy that this conversation was taking place in Jane's worn but comfortably furnished private apartment. His pregnant lady didn't need to be seated on those torture devices masquerading as chairs in the main rooms of Seasons House. Not that she was REALLY so delicate. Heck, she'd clout him one for even hinting that she might be. Still, he WAS an expectant father and pampering the Mother of his child was his right and privilege. Besides, what Audrey didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"Even with me as an example, and showing him the picture of this beauty here, he's not convinced that there's any hope for him. Size and sexual identity are still too tightly tied together in his mind."

"But that cute little Xhinea is his girl friend. . ." Marie argued.

"Adrian's not so sure of that yet. She's told him she is - her MOM's told him she is, but he's still holding back."

"He's been disappointed before," Jane murmured. "We put such a burden on young people, telling them they have to be perfect and beautiful to be happy. Now what do we do?"

"Well, I did have a thought on that, but it would take, shall we say, more talent for strategic and tactical misdirection than I possess," Darryl said with exaggerated self-deprecation.

"And just was does that mean, smartie?" Jane demanded while fighting a smile.

"What my little hubbie is trying to intimate, and what he will pay for later when I get him home, is that he doesn't have your ability to turn people and events to your will," Audrey put in, after digging an elbow into Darryl's ribs.

"Ah, my favorite role, eh? So, who do I maneuver this time, Darryl?"

"Well, it's kind of complicated," he warned.

"So what else is new? I haven't had an uncomplicated student since before Michael."

"Okay, here's the basic idea. . "

 

 

Chapter 43: Queen's Gambit - The Thompson Variation

Standing patiently in the music room, Jane held the dial-tone-buzzing phone to her ear, ready for the next act of Darryl's little play. She didn't have long to wait for at that moment, Adrian and Barbara Anne arrived in response to her summons. *Showtime, m'girl,* she thought. "Well, I'm sorry for that, dear, but it sounds like there's nothing else you can do." she paused, and gave every indication of attentive listening before replying. "I know - we'll be sad you couldn't come, too. Yes, yes, love you, too, dear. Call when you can, or if there's anything we can do for you here."

With a sad little sigh, Jane placed the phone back in its cradle before looking up to acknowledge her visitors. "Ah, Anne and Adrian - thank you for coming."

"What's wrong, Miss Thompson?"

Jane winced slightly at that, her first real reaction of the past few moments. "Anne, dear, if you're going to be part of the family, I think we'll have to do better than that."

"Call her 'Aunt Jane', sis," Adrian ordered with just a touch of bossy little brother in his tone, "Or no one will know who you're talking to."

"'To whom you're speaking', Adrian," the school mistress automatically corrected, then added, "You know better than that."

Anne, focused on what Adrian had just said, looked at Jane. "Would that be, um, okay with you, um, 'Aunt Jane'?"

"Yes, dear. I would like that very much."

"Thank you. So would I."

"So, what were you unhappy about, Aunt Jane?" Adrian repeated Anne's question.

*So like a man,* Jane thought amused. *No beating around the bush when there's a question to be answered. All that time in skirts and he still lacks subtlety. "Oh, nothing that really concerns you. It's just that one of the hostesses at Michelle's wedding isn't going to be able to make it."

"Michelle's wedding?" the tall blonde girl repeated in confusion.

"One of my former students is getting married. H . . um, she has a rather . . . restricted circle of friends, and one of them has had to cancel out. Family issues."

"I'll be glad to help, if I can."

Somehow, Jane managed to look just a little embarrassed as she demurred. "Thank you, Anne, but the, ah, conditions for the wedding are a little unusual."

Anne had to gawk at that "'Unusual'?" she repeated. "Around this place? The mind boggles."

"Well, not *that* unusual," the older woman laughed. "It's just . . . . well, Michelle has already married _his_ wife - as Michael. This ceremony will be an affirmation that his Janice truly loves *all* of Michael. At her request, everyone else in attendance will be, ah, affirming that as well.

Anne looked more confused, but then the teenager burst into laughter. "Meaning everyone will be dressed as girls, right?"

"Not *every* one, pardner," Jane replied in her best 'John Wayne' imitation.

"Oh my!"

"Just so."

Brow furrowed, Adrian looked up at the two taller women. "So, what does a, um, 'hostess' do at one of these things?"

"Angela was going to serve at the groom's table, though in this case, of course, that would be Janice's . . . wait. Were you volunteering to take her place?"

"Why not? It could be fun. I can't wait to see you in, um, guy-drag."

"Young man," Jane intoned loftily, "I'll have you know that I make a quite presentable 'father of the bride'."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure you do. But . . . I still can't wait to see you do it."

A familiar smile crossed Jane's face, and Adrian barely managed not to swallow hard. "Hmmm," she mused, "just how much do you . . . desire to participate? We still need a flower girl, too. You look just darling in Shirley Temple curls."

Barbara Anne snickered and said, "Now *that* is something I'd pay to see!"

Adrian managed a demure response, the perfect tones of a little girl politely telling her parent, 'no.' "Thank you, no, ma'am. My Shirley Temple curls and Raggedy Anne look left with Sandy."

"Oh, bother - and you'd have been so cute, too."

"True, all too true," was the smug reply, "but not in the cards, I'm afraid. Hostess or nothing, take your pick, Aunt Jane."

"I can't believe you'd want to do that, Adrian," Anne put in.

"I don't think it will, um, corrupt me, sis. I mean . . "

"No, that's not what I meant. It's just that after all you've been through here, and now you're offering to go back?"

Jane was pleased to see Adrian consider his response to that. Anne was obviously still somewhat concerned about how her brother's time at Seasons House would affect his future outlook.

"Look, sis. The clothes I wear don't define me. Thanks to Aunt Jane, I know who I am now, and I'm comfortable with that. Can't you be, too?"

"Of course," she said softly. There was a pause as Anne simply looked at her brother, a warmth in her eyes that greatly pleased Jane Thompson. "Oh, Adrian, I wish I could tell you how proud I am of you."

Adrian laughed, but there was pride in his smile as well. "Because I'll wear girl clothes and serve cake at a, um, 'affirmation' ceremony?"

"You know what I mean, you . . . brat."

"Children, please. Very well, ah, Adrienne. I accept your offer, and thank you." Then, Jane turned to face Anne. "I'm afraid, Anne, that will leave you . . . at liberty for a rather long while. I'm sorry."

"Is, um, Kendra going to be there?" Anne asked carefully.

"She wasn't going to be, but thanks to her time with you at Ruth's, she's regained her confidence. Yes, she'll be there, too.".

"Who's Kendra?" Adrian put in, catching the undercurrent between the two women.

Jane became serious as she recalled that Adrian and Kendra had not yet been introduced - properly or otherwise. Deciding that the question had to be answered, she replied, "You have met Darryl, Adrian, and thus know about Darla?" At the boy's nod, Jane continued. "Kenneth came to me under what I thought to be similar circumstances requiring similar treatment. Kendra is Kenneth's girl-name from his time in my program."

Adrian's eyes went wide. "Oh, my - Xena Warrior Princess Material," he breathed in obvious awe.

"Not quite, but more on that later," Jane told the boy. "So, Anne, I hope you don't mind Adrian participating? We'll save you some cake and such."

A mischievous grin lit up the lovely young woman's face. "Oh, I have no problem with Adrienne going to the wedding, but I don't think I want to stay at home. No, I think you need to call your experts in so that we can all meet, um, Bartholomew Andre. Perhaps your party needs, what is it men do at weddings?"

Hugely pleased by the idea, Jane grinned. "Hide, usually."

"No. . no. . .oh, I know, they usher. Need another usher, Aunt Jane?"

"Oh, I think we can find use for one, but are you sure?"

"Oh, absolutely," Anne's voice rang with determination. "But you have to make me a promise. Both of you?"

"Yes?" the other two said, almost in unison.

"Don't breathe a *word* of this to Kenneth."

Jane's eyes danced in merriment as she anticipated Kenneth's reaction to the unexpected appearance of 'Kendra's boyfriend' at Michelle and Janice's wedding. "Oh my!" Jane breathed. "No, indeed, we shall NOT!"

~-~

"You've gotten awfully quiet, little brother," Anne observed after Jane had left them alone in the music room.

The smile that answered her was bemused. "You know? You'd think I'd have learned to see that coming, wouldn't you?"

Now it was Anne's turn to look confused. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't - you've only had a passing acquaintance with Aunt Jane. Me? I've been here for months now, and I should have at least made it harder for her. I mean, I'm mere hours out of skirts and pettis, and bang - here I go again." The teen laughed gently and shook his head. "She *always* does that - makes it seem like you're choosing freely to do the only reasonable thing, yet it turns out to be just exactly what she wanted you to do all along. I wish I knew how she did that."

Anne spoke very carefully, trying to offer an opening rather than an accusation. "Maybe, um, it wasn't that . . . difficult?"

Adrian laughed. "Look, sis, you don't need to dance around the fact I've learned some, um, unusual skills while I've been here, and learned them well. But you also don't need to worry. I haven't been turned into some kinky freak. At least," and here Adrian looked his tall sister up and down with grinning appraisal, "at least no more so than, say, my dear old brother Bart!"

"Oh my God," Anne gasped, then joined her brother's laugh. "She did it to me, too, didn't she?"

"Yep," Adrian said. "I'm not the one who's gonna get stuffed into a monkey suit and play usher. Goodness, I may have gotten the better deal. I hate wearing neckties - and those tuxes will probably require starched collars."

"Oh my."

"As our dear Aunt Jane Thompson would say, Anne - Just so."

 

 

Chapter 44: 'They're Gettin' Married in the Mornin'. . Ding Dong'

"Tante Marieeeee," the last syllable was a squeak, "It's too tight!"

"Non, non, non, it is perfect! Tres parfait! Now, stop this whining, while I tie off the last lace - There! Tres bien! Now, la piece de resistance," she smiled as she reached for the dress bag she'd earlier hung from the hook in the armoire. "Close your eyes, cherie."

Adrian, or rather, almost-Adrienne, pouted mutinously, even as she tried to remember the trick of breathing after one of Marie's infamous corsetings. However, Marie refused to so much as touch the garment bag zipper until her subject closed her eyes, which Adrienne finally did, if with a very put-upon sigh to indicate her disfavor.

"Raise your arms above your head, cherie," Marie ordered.

~-~

"Tante Marieeeee," the last syllable was a squeak, "It's too tight!"

"Non, non, non, it is perfect! Tres parfait! Now, stop this whining, while I adjust the bow - There! Tres bien!"

"I . . . can't. . . breathe. . " Anne gasped as she tried to work a finger in between the heavily starched old-style shirt-collar and her throat.

"Oh, pooh, and call me 'Marcel', Bartholomew. At least while I am dressed like this." The pair both wore black slacks, socks and shoes, white ruffled shirts that fastened, insofar as Anne was concerned, up the wrong side with metal studs instead of buttons, red silk cummerbunds and suspenders which Marie. . .MarCEL had called braces.

"It is SO too tight! Why can't we just use the clip-on kind and pretend we didn't."

The little housekeeper actually looked horrified. "In THIS house? Mais NON! Never! Why, that would be like permitting the students to wear pantihose. Now, be quiet. I swear, you complain more than la jolie Adrienne when I laced her into her corset," Marcel added, just a bit mendaciously. "Now, the jacket, eh?"

~-~

Anne, and then she corrected herself - better start thinking of herself as Bartholomew - was standing just off the foyer awaiting the first guests to arrive. Ushering, she thought, sounded easy enough in the abstract, but wondered what could go wrong. She turned toward the stairs when the sound of heels on the ceramic tiles caught her attention.

A brunette vision in a very tight red silk dress approached her, a wide smile on lips dyed to match her gown. Her first reaction was that the gold-embroidered sheath, which covered the girl from just under her chin to just above her sandaled toes would be an absolute bitch to wear. How did the girl breathe without splitting a seam?

Then, something about the finely shaped eyes clicked in her mind. "My god! Adri. .. enne?"

Adrienne bobbed a quick curtsy, as deeply as the deadly heels and her inflexible waist would permit, and replied "An. . . dy?"

"Bart," the tall tuxedo-clad blonde corrected before giving her. . his sibling a thorough 'once-over'. "Wow, Adrienne, that is some outfit, and I love the hair."

Grinning mischievously, the teen ran her fingers slowly through the silken waterfall of straight black hair before adding a dramatically exaggerated pirouette to give her sibling the full benefit of Marie's artistry.

"What is that?" Bart asked indicating the autumn maple-hued silk dress. "How do you MOVE in something that. . .well, that tight?"

A shapely calf, swathed in what could only have been a for-real silk stocking, teasingly peaked out through a knee-high split on the side of the dress. "It's a cheongsam," Adrienne said, "And these side splits help - a little, anyway."

"Well, You look like the heroine from one of those English-dubbed Kung Fu movies you're always watching. I almost expect you to do a backflip screaming 'hi-yah' or something."

"Not in these heels!" was the disgusted retort. "My feet are already KILLING me."

Bartholomew was prevented from complaining about the necktie when a mustachioed figure, also in a tuxedo, hurried up to them.

"Adrienne, let me look at you!" Jane Thompson's voice ordered. "Yes, you'll do. Look, I have a mission for you - for both of you, actually."

"Yes, Aunt Jane?" the red-garbed teen asked.

"Uncle Ian, just this moment, dear. The problem is that the blasted caterer tried to foist inferior champagne off on us. We rejected it, of course."

"Oh, of course," Adrienne agreed, grinning at her sibling.

"Just so," 'Ian' retorted, scowling at her former pupil. "They were supposed to be here two hours ago with the proper vintage, but they had trouble acquiring sufficient quantities. They're on their way now. The problem is that . . .everyone is ready for the wedding. Normally, Marie would handle this, but she's Marcel now, and well. . . "

"Marcel doesn't look anymore like a guy than this tall, skinny string-bean, right?"

Bartholomew yelped, but subsided at 'Ian's' nod. "She'd have to change back which means she'd miss the ceremony. I have other former students here who are still passable enough en femme to pull off meeting the caterers at the back door, but they're supposed to be in the wedding ceremony."

"You want me to meet the caterers and take delivery of the wine, Aun. . Uncle Ian?"

A look of relief and then gratitude flashed in 'Ian's' dark eyes. "And then . . Bart, here, could help you get the wine to the reception area set up in the rose garden. The buckets are already there since those fools had the other champagne set up before I caught them at their little game of switch."

"No problem," the two Braithwaites assured their host.

"Just make sure Bart stays out of sight while they're here," Ian ordered. "As Adrienne pointed out, dear, you do not look in the least masculine."

"And you do?" Bartholomew asked archly.

"Point taken. True femininity will always show through, eh, Adrienne?"

"Aunt JANE!" the teen squawked, indignantly stamping a spike-heeled foot.

~-~

To the tall blonde's amazement, things actually went fairly smoothly with the caterers. Bart had spent the waiting time imagining all sorts of disasters that could befall the cross-dressed pair in the presence of . . .what? Normals? No, that wasn't the right description - she'd already concluded that there was nothing abnormal about the goings on at Seasons House. Non-believers? Closer, she decided.

What surprised the older Braithwaite the most was how easily and effectively her. . his. . brother/sister dealt with the erring tradesman. "It's like watching a miniature version of Jane Thompson," she murmured, looking on from her hidey-hole, "Even in those killer spikes, that caterer has five inches and fifty pounds on Adrienne, and yet, he's almost cowering. Heavens, she didn't even raise her voice."

Part of that had to be reaction to a very pretty girl being confidently authoritative - something else to thank Jane Thompson for. If anything, Adrienne was better looking now, than when she'd been fully inculcated in the Seasons House program. Maybe it was the coiffure - it was much nearer her natural color than that bleached platinum blond color, although it was certainly longer and straighter than Adrian had ever worn his hair.

Then again, that cheongsam was something else, too. A point that Bart mentioned later, when they were hurriedly stuffing green glass bottles into ice-filled silver wine buckets. "That is really some dress, sis," Bart said, envy patently evident in every syllable.

"Wanna share clothes, Bart?" Adrienne asked impishly.

Bart gave a sigh of regret. "Not much point, Twiggy. It takes slim hips to wear that style, and mine, well . . ."

Adrienne snickered. "Well gee, *Bart* why would you *want* to wear a dress? Big, tall, manly fellow that you are." And then just barely avoided the handful of crushed ice lobbed in her general direction.

"No! STOP!" Bart ordered, even as Adrienne reached into a nearby ice bucket for retaliatory ammunition. "Aunt Jane would have kittens if we messed up her party. I yield!"

"Wimp," the brunette sniffed, and then began giggling. "But you're right, and I have no desire to spend the next six months as Raggedy Annie or Little Lady Fauntleroy. But tell me, sis, where did YOU learn to react like that??!?"

"From Ken. . .dra," Bart replied, casting a longing look in the direction of the wedding ceremony.

Adrienne followed her sibling's direction and saw the object of her attention. "That tall, stacked brunette who can't seem to pay attention to the ceremony for wanting to look at you?"

"Yes."

"I like him. . .her," Adrienne said carefully.

"I'm glad."

They worked together in companionable silence, quickly finishing their assigned task. So they had time on their hands before the ravening hordes descended on them. "Have you thought about what happens next?" Bart asked Adrienne. "I mean, after you leave Aunt Jane's?

"Well, you're still my guardian - for which I am very grateful - what do you think I should do?"

"Finish school, obviously. Precisely where you do that is something we need to think about, but you're pretty well grown up, now, br.., um, sibling of mine. I expect whatever you decide will show a lot of wisdom. I just hope we can help.

A proud smile flashed across the little brunette's face at her brother/sister's praise. Then she realized that 'we' didn't mean quite what it had always meant in the past. "We? As in, you and Ken?

Blushing, Bart nodded. "You know you'll always be my *favorite* brother. I love Ken . . dra, but that doesn't mean I don't love you, too. He does live in this area, though. Whither he goest, I will go, and all that, you know? That's what I meant about 'where'. If you want to go back to Indianapolis to finish school, we will find a way, but it might take some doing."

"I know, sis," and it was somehow Adrian who said that. "And I'm happy for you. Frankly, it wouldn't bother me a bit to spend more time around the part of the country anyway."

"Oh, you've suddenly decided you like wearing those ankle-tangling heels?

"Not hardly!" was the nearly guffawed response. "But, well, there's this girl . . . "

"Ahh, um, Just so. Uh, oh, here comes the herd, rice at the ready. Be careful where you stand, kid. Getting those hard little grains down your dress is a bitch!"

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Tigger. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.