Peggy's Place

happy new year!!!

2012-01-07T12:27:00.002-07:00

I wish you a very happy, healthy, & prosperous 2012!

For those of you who enjoy Hypnotic Suggestion:

http://www.imagefap.com/video.php?vid=83718

a wink and a smile to luckstrike0 !!!!

I couldn't figure out how to post a vid without downloading to my old & slow computer, so just copy & paste the link...most of you will be glad you did.

Yes, I'm still here!

2011-12-18T07:55:00.002-07:00

Hello readers! After months and months of not posting here, I thought I should at least tell my faithful followers that although things have gotten horribly busy in my life, I am still alive and kickin'!

I took on a huge (but lucrative and fulfilling) commitment that takes so much of my time that I haven't even had time to sign in and tell you all that I'm still breathing.

I have not published the book yet, and I have no idea when I will get the time needed to pursue that. The only thing I can tell you is that I finished it, and I had a few confidants read it and they all thought it was very good.

Take care of yourselves. That really translates as "Be Safe above all"...remember that bad things happen to good people and you should make every effort to prevent them from happening to you. (Don't text & drive, use condoms, no blow dryers when you are bathing, etc.)

Merry Christmas and Happy & Healthy 2012!!!

the Questionaire

2010-09-02T08:24:00.005-06:00

As I mentioned in the last post my friend Gem (pictured above) and I have generated a questionnaire to help you decide just exactly where you fit into this emotional equation. Let’s assume that you’ve given yourself some label like, shemale, transvestite, sissy, crossdresser, transsexual, or even emo trap punk goth gurl, and you keep on running into other labels that seem to fit you better...at least until some other mood strikes. Sometimes our moods even change how we perceive ourselves and how we fit into the grand scheme of things.

The goal of this questionnaire is to have fun and give your desires and goals some thought. Be honest with yourself! (We hope even those who label themselves as “chasers” or “admirers” will find it fun to read as well. It might even give them a new sense of appreciation for what girls go through to look presentable.)

The basics:
1) To what degree have you dressed at any time in your life? Do you dress completely from head to toe, or do you just put a pair of panties on for a sexual thrill? Do you have any facial hair (beard or moustache)? What has kept you from shaving it off? Do you keep your armpits shaved?
2) How much time, effort, and money have you spent on body hair removal in the last year? This includes waxing, laser, shaving, depilatories, and of course the eternal plucking. Have you ever plugged the drain in your shower, tub, or sink with hair?
3) How many complete changes of clothes do you own? Dresses, slacks, skirts, blouses, casual wear, shoes, accessories? Do you own a woman’s watch or earrings? If you live in northern climes, do you own a woman’s coat?
4) Do you own any male underwear? Have you worn it recently? Is your wardrobe restricted to lingerie only?
5) When was the last time you used a masculine scent of any kind? When was the last time you left the house without dabbing on a little perfume?
6) Other than Halloween, have you ever dressed outside the privacy of your home? Have you ever left your home dressed? (If you’re 24/7, do you ever leave the house dressed as a male?) Have you ever been out on a date dressed?
7) Is there anyone that you know who assumes that you were born female? Is there another single soul on earth (other than internet friends) who knows that you dress?
8) Do you dress for any sexual reason at all? When you dress, do you get an immediate sexual thrill? Or do you just feel more comfortable in women’s attire? Do you feel uncomfortable or somehow incomplete in men’s clothing?
9) How good are you at applying your own make-up? Have you spent at least a hundred hours in front of a mirror perfecting your ‘look’? In the course of the average month, how much money do you spend on cosmetics? How many hours have you watched YouTube instructional videos on how to apply eye make-up for that ‘smoky’ look? Do you spend more than 1 hour per month caring for your finger or toe nails? Are they painted right now? Have you ever worn extensions?
10) Do you dress to be “seen” and attract or impress others, or do you do it for yourself and only in private? Do you read fashion magazines?
11) Are there pictures of you dressed (completely) on at least three websites? Does anyone have a picture of the ‘real you’ on their mantle, in their wallet or purse?
12) Have you ever had a ‘make-over’ by a professional make-up artist and photographer?
13) Do you feel that you can pass as a GG in public? This assumes you won’t get ‘clocked’ by 100% of the straight males and at least 75% of the females.

The Body:
14) Do you follow an exercise regimen to keep your body fit & trim?
15) Do you watch your diet on a daily basis because you wish to be healthy and attractive?
16) Have you given up even one unhealthy habit (e.g. drugs, drinking to excess, smoking, fast food, etc.) to take better care of your body in order to become more attractive?
17) Do you take herbal supplements for the purpose of feminizing your body?
18) Do you use daily transdermal estrogen or progesterone?
19) Would you (or do you) take chemical hormones? Specifically testosterone suppressors?
20) Would you consider getting an orchiectomy (castration) to limit the amount of testosterone coursing through your viens?
21) If you are on HRT do you continue to smoke even though you are aware of the increased health risks?
22) Have you ever wished that your penis wasn’t as large as it is?
23) Do you hate your genitals as they are now?
24) If you have not had an augmentation, do you have breasts of at least a noticeable size from all of your effort? Would you gladly submit to whatever surgical procedure and whatever expense you could reasonably afford to show a respectable amount of cleavage?
25) In your wildest imagination could you see yourself seriously considering SRS?
26) Would you gladly shorten your life for your appearance? Would you jump at the opportunity for ten years of breathtaking beauty even if it meant instant death at the end of those ten years?

The Living Arrangements:
27) Do financial, family, and relationship concerns prevent you from being the girl you really want to be? Does your sense of responsibility to others keep you from any real transition?
28) Is fear of ridicule the main deterrent to your transition?
29) Have you ever purged? How many times?
30) Are you in a relationship? Does your partner know about the real you? Have you repeatedly tried in vain to shove your femininity into the closet forever because it displeases your partner?
31) Is the ONLY reason that you are unhappy in your relationship is that your S.O. doesn’t understand or support your need to dress? Have you ever failed to appreciate how fortunate you’ve been in all other phases of your life because you’ve been unable to transition? Do you feel lonely even though you are in a loving relationship?
32) Are you one of the lucky few in a relationship with a loving partner? Are there times that you don’t appreciate how good things really are because you have been unable to exhibit the “real you”?

Spirituality:
33) How do you think “The Higher Power” feels about you?

A) There is no such thing as a ‘higher power’; the universe is an accident of nature.
B) God doesn’t feel anything one way or the other about me. She has larger issues to deal with than my pitiful existence.
C) God finds my desires disgusting. My very existence gives him sorrow.
D) God understands why I am the way that I am; after all, he created me.

34) How to you feel about yourself?

A) I am repulsive. My outward appearance looks nothing like the real me and I’m pretty depressed as a result, but I’m unwilling to do anything drastic to change it.
B) Even though I am not very happy with my appearance, I am basically a good person. I thrive on the approval of others and most people like me. There are many people in my life who think that they know me well, but they have no clue about my ‘inner turmoil’.
C) I am adorable. Others should feel fortunate to know me. If people don’t like me, it’s their fault, probably because they are jealous.
D) I am misunderstood by most other people and as a result I usually avoid interaction with them.
E) I really don’t like myself at all. I have done some pretty mean or destructive things that I regret. My life is something that I endure. I can’t remember the last time I had fun when I wasn’t under the influence of drugs or alcohol.
F) None of the other answers apply to me. I guess if I have to pick one of these choices, I would say that I’m just OK. Although I have never had much “inner peace”, I have had a good life and have tried not to have a negative impact on the lives of the people that I care about.

The Desires:
35) Who is really your ideal dream date? Is it a good looking hunky guy, a sexy milf, or a sister Tgirl?
36) Who do you envision spending the rest of your life with?
37) Is being forced to dress an integral part of your fantasies?
38) Is being dominated or ‘relinquishing control’ a pivotal part of your fantasies?
39) When was last time you fantasized about penetrating a woman’s vagina with whatever you wanna call it?
40) When was the last time you had sex with a genetic girl? Were you able to get an erection? Were you able to satisfy her?

41) What is your general feeling about sexual relations?

A) I enjoy it a lot, I like giving head and being fucked and pretty much everything else (with a few exceptions).
B) I’m an actual sex addict and should seek professional help, but I won’t because I love it too much. I’m continually searching for sex partners, and no matter how many times I’ve had sex in the recent past I have never felt completely satisfied.
C) I like to give head, but anal sex turns me off. I won’t do that for anybody.
D) I like to receive anal, but giving head does nothing for me, I’ll do it just long enough to get the dick hard, but I really don’t want cum in my mouth. Yuck!
E) Even though I feel it’s not very ‘ladylike’, I have sex in order to satisfy my lover, but I really don’t enjoy it very much.
F) I’m not interested in having sex at all.
G) The extent of my lovemaking is giving and receiving handjobs (or mutual masturbation). I just wouldn’t feel comfortable doing any more than that!
H) I’m a lesbian (transbian) and enjoy getting head or fucking my partners. I love both kinds of women (GG & T-girl), but I’m not interested in having any other dicks around.
I) I suppose if he got down on one knee, asked me to marry him, and produced a nice diamond ring…did I mention a nice house and a car too? If I’m gonna be his queen, I want to live in a castle!

42) Do you own at least two dildos? Do you regularly play with them? Is one of them a realistic size and shape (to stay in practice just in case you get lucky)? Do you really enjoy the entire experience even though it hurts a little to begin with? Do you like that part too?
43) Have you ever had an orgasm strictly from anal penetration? Have you ever ejaculated while being penetrated without any manual stimulation?
44) Do you commonly fantasize about being penetrated by a real cock? Or does the mere thought of it turn you off? Do you often have dreams about cock?
45) Have you ever been penetrated by a real cock?
46) When you are watching a love scene in a mainstream film or on TV do you unconsciously identify with the female? (i.e. Look at that lucky bitch. I’d give anything to trade places with her.) Do you find handsome men attractive? Or are you just attracted to them because of what’s between their legs? Are you really attracted to them, or do you have sex with them to “ratify your existence as a woman”? Do think that you could ever fall in love with a man?

47) When you see a very attractive woman you:

A) Are jealous as hell and wish it were so easy for you to look that good.
B) Wish she would dress you up and jack you off.
C) Wish you could be friends so she would introduce you to some gentlemanly handsome (but horny) guys.
D) Take you home so you can be her maid (without any hope of ever having any kind of sex).

48) Do you have any bumper stickers (no matter how obscure or discreet) that identify you as one of “us”?
49) Does the thought of having a cock in your mouth disgust you or arouse you?
50) Have you ever masturbated for the sole purpose of tasting the resultant cum?
51) Have you ever had a real cock in your mouth?
52) Do you enjoy sucking cock to the point of being extremely aroused? Have you ever sucked a cock to completion? Did the taste of cum turn you on even more? Are you fascinated by the moment of ejaculation? Could you watch videos of squirting cocks for hours and never tire of it?
53) Do you fantasize about being forcibly taken? (i.e. No bruises, but being slapped, spanked, hair pulled, fucked a little harder than is really comfortable, made to gag or choke on a hard cock. This does not include rape, just rough sex.)
54) Do you fantasize about gang bangs because just one cock could never satisfy your wanton lust?
55) Have you ever had more than one sex partner in any given 24 hour period?
56) Have you ever attended a “hotel party”? (This where you and possibly multiple other girls dress in private in the room and subsequently have sex with each other or whoever shows up.)
57) Have you ever been paid for sex? Did you revel in the knowledge that you were a prostitute even if it was only once. Did you make him use a condom?
58) During sex do you like it when your partner calls you derogatory names like whore, bitch, etc? Are you willing to excite your partner by being verbal during sex?
59) Do you often use drugs (including cocaine or poppers) when engaging in sexual activity? This would include drinking enough alcohol to become more than a little tipsy. Do you get aroused by self-destructive behavior? Do you regularly have unprotected sex with strangers even though you know the risks?
60) Have you ever been arrested for sexual activity? This does not include being arrested or harassed by the police simply for being dressed in public.

Suffice to say that most of the questions were written to elicit some soul searching. I hope it makes a few girls think about what they are doing and ask themselves some tough questions. Unfortunately it’s pretty much geared to the MTF segment of the intersexed or transgendered population, but neither Gem nor I would know where to begin in an analysis of the problems faced by the average FTM.

While we were composing the list (yes, we giggled a lot), we came to the realization that those who are not T-oriented would get a lot out of just reading the questions too. I don’t think the average guy has any idea at all of how much trouble even a genetic girl goes too just to get ready for an ordinary dinner date. If they could only imagine the effort required (let alone the expense), they would be a little bit more understanding as to why we get so incredibly pissed off when we get stood up! I say make those fuckers put on eyeliner…just once, and then they’d have a small inkling of what a pain in the ass it is to get all dolled up for them. While you’re at it boys, jerk out just five eyebrow hairs with a tweezers. I’d say on the average we pluck at least twenty a month…by the roots. The really twisted part is that we enjoy doing it for you, so don’t forget to give your girl lots of nice compliments on how she looks.

PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT!

food for thought

2010-08-30T14:27:00.002-06:00

A couple of months ago, I was sitting in the waiting room of my doctor’s office when I began chatting with the only other patient who was sitting there. We hit it off, and decided to go have coffee together after our appointments. We went to a nearby cafe and sat for a few minutes just getting to know one another. She’s a great kid who has a good sense of humor and is easy to talk to. I was a little surprised when she mentioned that she had seen the doctor today to monitor the dosages of her HRT.

I must be getting old, I had no idea that my new little friend had been born and raised a male. When I told her my story, she was more than a little surprised as well; she thought I was just another overly chatty old lady.

Her name is Gem (pronounced: Jemm) and at age 16, she had been going through bouts of depression, and had become uncommunicative to the point of not speaking to either of her parents. Her parents had wondered what could possibly be wrong with their child, and sent her to the family physician, who in turn referred her to a psychiatrist.

She told me that she was just unable to converse with her parents on any level because she ‘just knew’ that there would not be any way for them to understand what she was going through. Luckily, she was able (after several appointments) to open up to the shrink and actually begin to explain how she felt. Another lucky part of the story is that the shrink was female…it was so much easier to explain what she was feeling to a woman.

Not only has medical science come a long way since I came to the realization that something was definitely different about me, but evidently the sciences of psychology and psychiatry have come a long way too. I guess some of it must be that science has finally awakened to the fact that a percentage of us human beings cannot be neatly tucked into either one of their gender pigeonholes.

When I told Gem that I never had SRS, and had never regretted it, she was intrigued by the thought process that went with that sentiment. It took me ten minutes of explaining before she finally wrapped her brain around the fact that there were virtually no doctors performing the surgery in the U.S. when I first became aware of my sexuality (or gender difference). By the time that it was readily available, I had come to realize that I was happy with the ways things were ‘down there’.

Gem is 18 now, and she produced a three ring binder in which she keeps all of her medical related materials. She brings it with her to every appointment because inevitably she will be asked for dates, dosages on her meds, other doctors seen, etc…and a girl just can’t remember everything.

I asked her how she was getting along with her parents now. She sadly related that her father has basically disowned her, but that she does have lunch with her mother occasionally. “It’s not a comfortable relationship for either one of us, but it is slowly getting better. I hope this year to finally get her to call me Gem…and who knows, maybe next year a little ‘girltalk’.”

While we were looking through her binder, we came across a list of questions that she had been asked to evidently find out what made her think that she might like to begin transition. We both decided that the list of questions was woefully incomplete. I told her about this blog and we came up with about fifty questions that would just give a girl a sort of a preliminary idea of what category she fit in and why she desires to:

a) Wear the clothing of and/or at least appear to be of the opposite sex.

or

b) Become a member of the opposite sex.

It surely isn’t to expose yourself to ridicule, scrutiny, or discrimination, or for that matter physical harm…

What is it that makes you tick? Complete the questionnaire in the next post and see for yourself.

more art

2010-07-25T11:12:00.003-06:00

Since my faithful readers haven't posted a comment on my last two entries (it has been MONTHS!) I've decided to post some more art here. They are works generated by an artist named CamilleMM, visit her website for more cute pics.

Informative Documentary

2010-04-12T11:15:00.008-06:00

I thought this HBO documentary that I found on YouTube important enough that I would break my personal rule of not posting until a reader had posted a comment on the latest entry. For those of you who aren't aware, depending on the source of your statistic, somewhere between one and two percent of the human population on planet earth are born intersexed.

Let's take the median figure and just say one in every seventy-five persons was born "somewhere in between". Odds are that you know someone who has been dealing with this all their lives. It might be a co-worker, the person sitting next to you at church, or even your best friend.

I cried gallons of tears in my early youth because of fear, and yes even self loathing. But in time I began to accept myself for who I am and how God made me. Part of the problem was that I was not only intersexed, but also OVERsexed. Even though I'm in my fifties, and my hormones are all out of whack, I still think about sex pretty much all the time. I have 'compartmentalized' my life into separate pieces: financial security, family, religion, friendship, love, romance, and sex. I never really felt the need to stir them all up together and make some kind of "stew".

Having lived my formative years in a time when subjects like 'ambiguous gender' were never discussed, I can't tell you how much it has meant to me to find out that I'm not alone. Don't get me wrong, I've been at ease with who I am for many years, and I wouldn't change a thing about my life even if I could. But it is a comfort to know that I have lots of company!

I tried the "insert link" button five times and couldn't get the link to appear in this post, so you'll have to copy & paste the web address into your browser:

http://www.youtube.com/user/universal69behavior#p/u/10/zWGRi99cVHo

Love to all of you who are either in this category of humanity, or are trying to learn more about us.

Sincerely,
MSF

Sugar Moon

2010-03-30T10:52:00.004-06:00

What is it about a full moon that makes me so incredibly sentimental? I can't help but think about the beauty of God's Universe and the people who have made my existence bearable with their love.

I traveled back to Denver to spend Easter with my sisters and their families. I had forgotten how clear the sky is here and how the features of the moon are seen so clearly with the naked eye.

I'm transported back to when I was a very small child riding in the back of my Dad's car coming home after dark. I was only about 5 years old and therefore pretty gullible. I wondered aloud "Why is the moon following US home?" One of my older sisters proffered "Because our family is so special the moon always follows us." I bought this story hook, line, and sinker and believed it for quite some time.

There have been many times that I've been overwhelmed with the absence of a loved one, and the moon gave me some comfort. I would always think that the person that I was missing might be looking up at the moon and thinking of me at that moment.

Chapter Thirty Nine

2010-03-19T10:30:00.004-06:00

I came out of the bathroom, coyly slinking towards him. I smiled and put my arms around his waist. I pulled him close and kissed him full on the mouth. He seemed a little taken aback by my advance and was trying not to react to the fact that my body was grinding against his. I said “How was your day darling?” He was just getting ready to answer when I interrupted him “Fix yourself a drink and come into the kitchen.” I had made a cassette for the evening and pushed the “play” button on his stereo while slinking my way into the kitchen. I had already minced some more fresh garlic and had it steeping in some warm olive oil. I had cut the Italian bread lengthwise, separating it into two halves and was brushing the oil onto the bread with a pastry brush when he said “What are we having for dinner? It smells wonderful.” I had sprinkled the bread with some parsley flakes and paprika and was placing the two half loaves under the broiler to toast them and replied “Lasagna, salad, and garlic toast, but it’s the dessert that’ll surprise you.” I began to dish our plates and bring them to table when the garlic bread was done. I made sure that there was nothing demure about my movements. I carried the two plates to the table, motioned for him to sit, and went to the fridge to get the red wine I had chilling. I poured two glasses, and returned to the table. He was apparently very impressed with the meal; I told him to eat it before it got cold “We can make small talk later.”

When he had finished his plate I asked if he would like a second helping, he replied “I would love to be able to, it was delicious, but I don’t think I have room.” I took our plates into the kitchen, and dutifully put the leftovers in the fridge. The songs on the cassette were all very sexy, they helped me stay focused on what I had to do. I went back to the table, took his hand and led him to the leather sofa in his living room.

I sat to his right on the sofa, very close to him. I made small talk about his day, but wasn’t really listening to his answers. I was playing with the hair on the back of his head when he commented again about how much he enjoyed the meal. I was loosening his tie and unbuttoning his collar and told him that I had worked really hard preparing it. I had to go slowly because I was sure that he would freak out if I literally attacked him. It was when I started running my hand up and down his thigh that I sensed him getting uncomfortable. I leaned up and whispered in his ear, “Just relax honey, I’m having fun.” I made sure that my hot breath was on his neck. He was really trying to be a gentleman, making it clear with subtle body language that this was something he wasn’t comfortable with. I handed him his drink, trying to get some more alcohol in him to soften up his defenses. I was rubbing his chest, he was trying to distract me and take the evening to a less sexual focus when he said “You said there was dessert?” I threw my right thigh over his legs and pivoted, so that I was sitting astride his lap facing him. “Yes honey, I brought dessert for you…” I clasped my hands behind his neck and kissed him deeply, probing his mouth with my tongue. Underneath me, I felt his organ pulse a little. He was half-heartedly trying to stand, even though I was on his lap when he said “Well shouldn’t we go have some dessert?” I was unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way when I said “You are having ME for dessert silly!” I crossed my hands, grabbed the hem and pulled my dress up over my head and cast it aside. His eyes widened with surprise. I was subtly grinding his crotch just a little, being sure to not sit too still. I kissed his chest, working my way up so he would feel my hot breath on his neck when I made sure to press the lace of my bra against his bare chest. His breathing was quickening when he said “Margaret, you really don’t have to do this!” I sat back a bit and undid the clasp on my bra and replied with a devilish tone “I know, but I want to. You like it, don’t you?” The bra was hanging in my shoulders, but my breasts were exposed. He was having a very difficult time of it. He had a very willing young lover on his lap, one that he admired and maybe even adored, but the true old fashioned gentleman in him was reluctant to give in. His hands hadn’t moved, he was sitting there not knowing where to look or what to do. He said only “We shouldn’t…”, but I shushed him with a single finger placed vertically over his lips. I took his hands and guided them to my breasts. I could feel his cock really starting to throb underneath me. I knew that I still had to be careful, as he could still force me to stop. I started grinding his lap a little harder and while I was making his hands caress my breasts I moaned “Don’t stop, Oh that feels sooo good”, and slid my butt a little farther toward his knees. I leaned into his face so close that our noses touched and undid his trousers. For a second, he didn’t know what I was doing because my face was so close to his that he couldn’t see. I slid my hand down inside his boxers and began massaging his engorged penis.
I have to admit, I was getting very horny at this point too. Remember I hadn’t had an orgasm for a couple of months. But I didn’t let that dissuade me from focusing on my plan. He was breathing very hard now, I said “Oh yeah, that feels sooo nice.” I pulled his waistband down far enough to expose him. It wasn’t huge or anything, God knows I had seen bigger, but it was the most perfect dick I’ve ever seen. I wanted so badly to slide it inside of me and ride it until I came undone. But I knew that I had to be quick, because I didn’t want any awkward pauses to give him a chance to stop me, so I slid my ass off his thighs and knelt in front of him. I had my mouth on his cock in less than a second. He was protesting, saying “No, Margaret don’t”, “You shouldn’t”, and “This is wrong.”

But once I had him hard and in my mouth, I knew it was just a matter of time. I started with a few deep penetrations, softly going all the way down. He was so hard and pulsing, his verbal protests waned, and all he could do was moan. Then I began the short quick strokes, with my tongue working the underside of his corona. I knew where that knot of nerves was, I just knew that it would only be seconds before he would be unable to stop even if he wanted to. I could taste the pre-cum that was flooding into my mouth signifying that he was beyond control of himself. I could do or say anything now and he would be unable to resist.

I withdrew his cock from my mouth and spit on it, I was stroking it with my hand and said “Oh yeah baby, that feels so good, now give me your cum. I want it so bad, please give it to me.” His entire body began to tense up. At the first spurt, I thrust my mouth back onto his cock, going all the way down. I almost choked, but I loved it. His cum was still spurting out when I withdrew. I was pointing the tip at my mouth and stroked the last few drops out onto my lips. I said “Oh gawd that tastes so good.” I put his cock back in my mouth, and sucked the last few drops out. His body was in the grips of an uncontrollable spasm, his legs were jerking like he was having a seizure. His hands grabbed my head and pushed me away. I knew I had his cum all over my mouth and chin; I looked him in the eye and said “Oh FUCK that was Hot!” I hopped up and slithered to the bathroom. I closed the door and locked it.

I cleaned his cum off of the bottom half of my face, and began to fix my make-up. I wanted to swish a little mouthwash around and spit, but I thought it would be better if he could smell his cum on my breath when I returned to him. I was smiling at myself in the mirror while I was fixing my make-up and applying my lipstick. The plan was working, but I wasn’t finished yet. I let him stew for another minute before I re-hooked my bra, got myself adjusted, and left the bathroom. I had the easy part done, now came the hard part.

I left the bathroom and found him sitting with his face in his hands. He had gotten a tea towel from the kitchen, cleaned himself, and buttoned himself back up. When I was about six feet away from him I stopped, standing with my feet apart and giggled “Oh my gosh, you really got me excited!” When he looked up, I pointed at the wet spot in my crotch. He looked so sad and ashamed, and buried his face in his hands again. I went to him and cradled his chin and made him look up at me, there were literally tears in his eyes, they weren’t flowing down his cheeks, but they were there. I said “There there sweetie. What’s the matter?” He could only say that he should have stopped me. I held my head about three inches from his face, making sure he smelled my breath, and said “Why? It’s not as if you’ve ‘defiled a virgin’ or anything.” A genuine look of surprise came over his face. I freshened his drink while I said “What were you thinking, after all I’m a cigarette girl in a showclub for christsakes.” I hated doing this, but it just had to be done. If I was going to keep from hurting him in the long run, I must show him, tell him what I was.

I went to my purse and took out a cigarette, he said “Please don’t smoke in my apartment, you know I don’t like the way it smells.” I opened the drapes and the sliding patio door that led to his balcony, went out and lit up. I knew he would be aghast because someone might see me and I was only wearing a bra and panties. He came to the door and said “You’re not dressed, please come back inside.” I replied “Honey, you just told me that you didn’t want me to smoke in there, now which is it?” I could see that he was frustrated. “Just go back inside and enjoy your drink darling, I’ll be inside in a minute.” I flicked my ashes into a potted plant that Masie was no doubt caring for. His exasperation with me was building, it was just what I wanted.

When I came back inside he seemed relieved at least for a moment. I sat next to him on the sofa and was sipping my wine. I let him break the silence “I can’t understand why you are acting like this…” I cut him off and said “I can’t understand why you are acting like this either, I thought you would be pleased. I go out of my way to cook you a wonderful dinner. I made a special effort to look extra sexy. We really hadn’t been alone before, and I wanted to do something EXTRA nice for you and now you’re acting like you wished that I didn’t give you a blowjob. Why don’t you relax? Didn’t it feel good?” He started stammering as if he was at a loss for words. I had rattled his core, he was suave, but apparently he wasn’t worldly. Finally he composed himself enough to answer “Yes, of course it felt good. But I’m just not accustomed to doing this sort of thing, and I do respect you enough to say that I really do wish you hadn’t done that.”

This was being so hard for me, this man was so sweet. I literally had to make him think less of me now so that he wouldn’t be crushed when he found out the truth. “Doing what sort of thing? Do you mean to tell me that you’ve never had a girl suck your cock?” He winced when I said the word and said “Please don’t talk like that, it’s so vulgar.” I feigned being offended and said “Why do you care, nobody can hear but us, we are alone. It’s not like you didn’t know that I talked like that. Did you think I was some kind of goody-two-shoes? Besides, I like sucking cock; I enjoy sucking cock, hell I even like saying the word cock. Excuse me, but what was that you said just a minute ago? Was it that you wished that I hadn’t sucked your cock? I wanted to spend the evening with you, but if that’s the case, maybe I should go.” I stood up and pretended to be gathering up my things and was picking up my dress when he stood up and said “Margaret, please don’t go. I’m just feeling guilty. I’m almost twice your age. You have to understand that people of my generation are a little stiff about sex in general, let alone oral sex. The truth is that I really honestly have never had a girl perform oral sex for me.” I was really surprised, here was a man who had been on a thousand dates with hundreds of different women who all wanted him to marry them. They no doubt wanted to keep him, and not one of them had ever blown him. I supposed it was possible. I smiled at him and said “You are kidding me aren’t you?” He spoke an emphatic “No.” I went to him and threw my arms around him “You poor man, I probably scared the fuck out of you. A bar girl like me throwing herself at you like that.” He was hugging me back and said “You aren’t a bar girl, you’re young attractive, and intelligent.”

I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him away just far enough to make eye contact and said “You better sit down.” He looked concerned; the air rushed out of him and he collapsed back into the sofa. I sat down next to him leaving an inch or two between us. I took his hand and looked into his eyes and began to speak. “George, this might be hard for you to understand, but I am a bar girl. Thank you for saying those nice things about me, yes I am young, I make an effort to be attractive, and I like to think that I’m intelligent too. But my financial situation demands that I make some extra money from somewhere and being young and attractive helps somebody like me make ends meet. I really honestly thought you knew and were being polite as usual, for not mentioning it.” His face was filled with anguish, not for himself, but for me “You poor kid, that must be awful.” I shrugged it off and said “It’s not as bad as all that, it beats working. Of course none of the men are as nice or as fun to be around as you. Most of them are such bores that I enjoy the sex more than their company. Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m sorry if I hurt you or led you on. I suspected that you were starting to have feelings for me, and I have become very fond of you too. This has been a huge burden for me to carry around. My nights have been filled with worry thinking about how I could ever tell you something that might make you stop caring about me, knowing all the while that I must tell you. If I didn’t care so deeply about you, I would have never told you. You probably would have found out from someone else in a most painful way. Can you find it in your heart to let me stay in your life?”

He exhaled and said with a remorseful tone “I really don’t know the answer to that.”

***
I probably should write each of you an e-mail apologizing for dragging you into reading my life story. Writing it has been cathartic. It really did turn into a book after I began to relate the story on this blog. I thought I could sum up my life in thousand words or so, but after writing the first seven entries it became apparent that I just couldn't abridge a story that was so familiar. (I've never been able to do anything halfway.)

I will continue to post here, with the same proviso...nobody comments, no posting.

For obvious reasons I've become a little bit of a private person in my old age. My conservative neighbors might not be so quick to smile and say hello if they knew that I was born "somewhere between" what they assume to be the two distinct sexes and chose to relate the story in a book. I'd like to thank you all(especially Paul) for being so supportive in this endeavor. Also please excuse me for shunning any notoriety which may come my way. I've gotten quite comfortable with my existence as a little old lady who really doesn't get noticed by anyone outside my family.

Look for the book to be published in the fall.

Thanks Again,
Love,
Peggy

Chapter Thirty Eight

2010-03-09T11:04:00.003-07:00

I hadn’t been spending that much time with George, but it had impacted the rest of my obligations. Even though I was young, I was having a difficult time finding the energy that I needed to keep going. Everyone in my life except George was suffering from my absence. I hadn’t seen Katie for weeks and Susan & Aggie were working extra hard to keep up. Juanita was not only covering for me at the club, but I had placed her sexual desires on the back burner too. I was feeling guilty because I felt like everyone was covering for me. If that wasn’t enough emotional strain for me, there was a huge weight still on my shoulders because I hadn’t confessed to George. I resolved to take care of that problem on Friday. I just couldn’t go on like this.

On Tuesday night after we had closed up the club, I went back to Juanita’s office to tell her thanks for the extra time off she had given me lately. It was about 2:30 AM and all the other employees had left. I was explaining to her how sorry I was that everyone had to cover for me in my absence. I could tell that she was a little angry with me for good reason. Her office was probably not the best place to have this conversation because she had a pile of bills on her desk, and a lot of work yet to do. Worse yet, I had to ask for Friday night off so I could at least resolve my immediate problem with George. I hadn’t worked a full week in a month, so she was livid when I told her. I cannot even begin to explain why her anger occasionally turned into an abusive sexual need, but it happened again that night. I’m sure that jealousy was a factor, because she thought of me as her girlfriend. I hadn’t ‘taken care’ of her needs lately and that made it worse. She grabbed me and bent me over her desk and began to spank my ass with a ruler. I was hoping that she wouldn’t leave any marks, but knew enough not to say anything as that would only make it worse. Luckily she tired of beating me quickly and forced me to my knees. She put her hands behind my head and began to harshly grind my face into her crotch. She tired of standing, removed her panties, and sat on the desk. She spread her legs, grabbed me by the ear, and pulled my face close to her crotch. “Smell that you little fuck. You let it get dirty didn’t you?” She let go of my ear and began to masturbate, slapping and fingering herself roughly. She held her labia open with her left hand and was abusing herself with her right. “Don’t you see that this is all your fault? It’s you that makes me so crazy; it’s you that makes me hurt myself.” I knelt down in front of her and pushed her hands out of the way so I could finish her off. I was tired and really wanted to get this over with, plus I really didn’t want her to actually injure herself. It didn’t take long before I brought her release. As was always the case, she was filled with remorse afterwards. I told her that it really was my fault this time because I had been neglecting her. She wouldn’t accept my apology, saying that really wished she didn’t have such sick needs. She was crying, full of sincere remorse. I embraced her for a minute, tried to console her as quickly as possible, and hurried to the bathroom to wash my face before I left.

On the drive home it dawned on me that I had little pent up sexual frustration of my own. I hadn’t had an orgasm in months. The song on the car radio was Lesley Gore singing “You Don’t Own Me” for the first time I really listened to the lyrics:

You don't own me, I'm not just one of your many toys
You don't own me, don't say I can't go with other boys

And don't tell me what to do
And don't tell me what to say
And please, when I go out with you
Don't put me on display, 'cause

You don't own me, don't try to change me in any way
You don't own me, don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay

Oh, I don't tell you what to say
I don't tell you what to do
So just let me be myself
That's all I ask of you

I'm young and I love to be young
I'm free and I love to be free
To live my life the way I want
To say and do whatever I please

A-a-a-nd don't tell me what to do
Oh-h-h-h don't tell me what to say
And please, when I go out with you
Don't put me on display

I don't tell you what to say
Oh-h-h-h don't tell you what to do
So just let me be myself
That's all I ask of you

I'm young and I love to be young
I'm free and I love to be free
To live my life the way I want...

It was almost as if someone knew I would be listening to that radio station at that moment and wanted to send me a message.

***
George lived at his apartment Monday through Friday. He usually only stopped there for a couple of hours on Friday evening after work. He would play a record or two, have a martini to unwind, and wait for the traffic to dissipate before packing up his dirty laundry from the week and heading out to his father’s estate where he spent the weekends.

I left the shop at noon on Friday filled with determination. I was on a mission. My first problem was that I would be preparing a dinner in a bachelor’s kitchen and had no idea what cookware and spices were there. I thought I had better go check it out before I even went to the grocery store to buy the ingredients. George had told his maid Maisie that ‘his special someone’ would be coming by and to let me in. When she answered the door, I could tell immediately that I wasn’t at all what she expected. First of all I hadn’t bathed; working at a dry cleaners is pretty sweaty work. I hadn’t changed my clothes yet either and was wearing what I usually worked in. In short I looked like a train wreck, but after a few minutes of ingratiating myself to her I think she started to actually like me even if she had no idea what George saw in me. I set to work taking inventory of what I would need to prepare the meal. Maisie came into the kitchen with me and showed me where everything was. She was quickly getting the idea that I knew what I was doing, at least in the kitchen. When I had finished, I told Maisie thanks and “Sorry to interrupt your work, it was nice meeting you.” She still had a bit of a quizzical look on her face as I dashed off.

I went back home, packed everything I would need for the evening including toiletries, clothes, shoes, and a few items from our kitchen that were lacking at George’s. I had to go to two different grocery stores as the first one was out of Italian sausage. When I returned to George’s apartment Maisie seemed a tiny bit annoyed that I was back. She probably had hoped to finish her cleaning and be gone before my return. I’m the sort of a person who literally attacks the kitchen when there is cooking to be done. Maisie stood there for about five minutes just watching me as I washed some fresh spinach and set it aside to dry, and started mincing fresh garlic. I dumped a tub of ricotta cheese into a mixing bowl, threw the fresh garlic in there, and began vigorously chopping the spinach when she said “You don’t need any help do you?” I said “No, but thanks a lot for offering.” When she came back a half hour later, I had the ricotta mixture chilling in the fridge, the sauce simmering on the stove, most of the mess cleaned up, and was grating some mozzarella. “What are you fixing for dinner? It smells delicious!” I told her that I was making a spinach lasagna with a nice salad and garlic bread. She was still watching when I finished grating the cheese, so I asked her if she could watch the sauce while I ran back to the car to get the rest of my stuff. I put a big stock pot on for the noodles, threw some olive oil and about a teaspoon of salt in the water, and dashed out again. When I returned I draped my clothes over a chair in the living room and put my shoulder bag on the floor. I was putting the noodles into the water, when Maisie said “this looks like a great recipe, can I have it?” I replied that I never used recipes, or even measured anything, but that if she got a pencil and a piece of paper, I would be happy to tell her how to make it. She helped me finish putting the meal together while I showed her how to make it. By the time we had the Lasagna put together and ready to bake, the salad made and chilling in the fridge, and all the pots and pans washed up, Maisie and I were friends.

She left at about 3:30 which left me just enough time to get ‘all dolled up’ for George’s arrival. I showered and wrapped a towel around myself and padded into the kitchen and put the lasagna in the oven that I had preheated. It was 4 O’clock, if he arrived at anytime between 5:30 and 6:15 this was going to work out perfectly. I returned to the bathroom, and resumed the process of making myself look a little better than “presentable”. I was really going for a different look that night, George had seen me look sophisticated in an evening gown, sexy in a bikini, and cutesy in a pair of culottes and peasant blouse. I really thought it would be best if I “looked the part’ when I informed him that I wasn’t an innocent little girl. I had made a really sexy red dress that I had worn a lot on my ‘dates’. It was low cut, ultra short, and really clingy. Under it I wore a black bra with a cute little clasp in front between the cups and a panty shaper to which I had added some garters. I bought some black seamed stockings, wore my red four inch stiletto heels, and my black velvet choker. I had even decided not to wear the diamond earrings he had given me, I opted for some dangly black onyx ones that really looked cheap. I put on way more make-up than usual, opting for a blue eye shadow that I would never have worn in the light of day. I was applying the mascara when the stove timer went ding. I checked the lasagna, it was done, so I pulled it out of the oven and put it on top of the stove to cool. I returned to the bathroom to finish putting on my mascara. I checked the mirror when I was done, and there was the Peggy I knew staring back at me. I smiled at her and said “Whore” with prurient disdain. I dabbed my perfume behind my ears, in my cleavage, and a drop between my thighs just in case. I was ready, so I scooped up all my stuff from his bathroom and put it in my shoulder bag. I wadded up my dirty work clothes and stuffed them in there too. I took one of his washcloths, wiped up the mess on his vanity, and hung it on the towel bar. He would be sure to see that there was make-up all over it. I did it on purpose. I heard him come into the apartment at 5:30. My resolve waned for a second, but then I took a deep breath and looked in the mirror again. The girl looking back at me knew she would do what she had to do.

***

Author’s note: The rest of this book is written already. The next chapter will be the last entry in this blog. If you wish to learn what happened after that, you’ll have to buy the book.

PS> If you own the rights to the song and object in any way to my posting the lyric here, let me know.

Chapter Thirty Seven

2010-02-23T13:37:00.002-07:00

The weather had been perfect. I had enjoyed my first hours of real leisure in a very long time. It was hot, but not steamy, and best of all I hadn’t gotten sunburned. George mentioned that we should get a bite as he was getting hungry. We went to the coffee shop for a ‘late lunch’ as the dress code was casual in there. The little terry robe would not have been acceptable in the dining room at the country club, but the female patrons often went into the coffee shop in pool attire. George ordered a burger, and I asked for a club sandwich. George offered “Would you like a beer Margaret?” “No thank you, I think I’ll just have coffee.” I excused myself because I really had to “powder my nose” after all that lemonade and 7-up.

Going potty was not an uncomplicated endeavor, I had to get the tape off, then sit and do my business. After that I had to tear off the duct tape first, hold my little weewee where I needed it to be, and then carefully re-tape. If I had been thinking, I wouldn’t have drank so much lemonade, or changed into my streetclothes before lunch. I sort of let the terry robe drape down to my elbows so that my shoulders and the bikini top were exposed on my way back to the table. I knew how to “work the room” from prancing around Juanita’s showclub in such a skimpy outfit, so as I made my way across the coffee shop I was really showing off…and George was loving it. The club sandwich was just so so, but the coffee was the best I’d had up to that day. I had never had fresh ground coffee before, and was surprised at the difference in flavor.

George said he wanted to go back by the pool for a while before he took me home, so we left the restaurant and made our way back to the table in the shade. We sat there for an hour or so just talking about our lives. I asked him what had brought him to Juanita’s club the night that we met. “I had a date with a girl that night, she wanted to see the act that had cancelled. When we were seated at the table before the show we found out that the headline act had changed. She was being very unreasonable about the entire misunderstanding. We had only known each other for a few days, it was our third date. I made every effort to appease her, but nothing would work. I offered to take her somewhere else, I told her I would take her home if she liked. She told me that she was going to powder her nose and on the way to the ladies room, she had the Maitre d’ call her a cab. She returned to the table for long enough to tell me that she was leaving, told me not to call her again, and stormed out of the place. Isn’t it funny how sometimes luck that seems bad turns out to be good?” I asked him what he meant by that and he smiled at me and said “That might have been the luckiest night of my life, through no intent of my own I ditched her, happened to need some company at my table, and met someone extraordinary.” I blushed and said “Stop it, you’ll embarrass me.”

This time when Frank parked the limo in front of the storefront, George gave me a real kiss without my asking.

I was fumbling through the shoulder bag looking for my keys. Aggie was in the shop doing some Sunday catch up and had seen me get out of the limo. She opened the door for me and I said thanks. As I headed across the store, I could tell that there really was a lot of work left to do. “I’ll go change and be right down to help you kid.” I went upstairs and kissed Patricia on the forehead. Susan was cooking dinner and catching up on the dishes, I went over to her and gave her a hug from behind. I changed into some bummy clothes and headed back downstairs to give Aggie a hand in the shop. We worked about an hour before Susan called downstairs to tell us dinner was ready. Aggie and I bounded up the stairs, racing each other and laughing.

We pretty much gobbled our dinner, thanked Susan for the nice meal and headed right back downstairs to finish. We didn’t want to start the week several hours behind. After finishing all the washing, drying, cleaning, pressing and mending that we had taken in the week before, we still had quite a bit of work left to do. We changed the fluid and cleaned the filters in our dry cleaning machine, filled the distilled water reservoirs in the steam guns and flatwork press, swept up the ubiquitous lint, and mopped the floor. After turning everything off and heading upstairs, I shared a beer with Aggie. We each took a quick bath so we didn’t have to go to bed all sweaty, and flopped into bed. We had worked without a break until midnight.

***

The following Sunday I took him on a real picnic. I made fried chicken & potato salad, and had a little cooler with a six pack of Falstaff. (note: Falstaff was a pretty decent beer back then, it didn’t taste at all like it does now…Yuk!) I drove us out to Sioux Passage Park. There was a little secluded shelter that most people didn’t know about, so I was reasonably sure we’d have it to ourselves even on a Sunday. After we had eaten lunch, we went for a walk down one of the paths that parallels the river. We returned to the shelter and were sitting there snuggling. He kissed me for a minute and then drew away saying “Every time we meet you surprise me. I think that you can do anything that you set your mind to. Before today I didn’t know that you could cook, I didn’t know you could drive, let alone find this lovely spot and remember how to get here. Margaret, you truly are an amazing woman.” I almost said “You don’t know the half of it.” But I thought better of it and told him how sweet he was to say such nice things. I opened the last beer and we shared it before walking back to where I had parked.

He dozed off while I was driving him home. In the silence I wondered how and when I would tell him. I knew that I must do it soon. I felt irresponsible for putting it off this long. The longer I put it off the worse it would be for both of us.

***

I asked my Moms what they thought about my relationship with George. I talked to Katie about it too. All of them said that I simply had to tell him. I wasn’t positive that he was truly and deeply in love with me, but I was sure that at least it was headed in that direction. Patricia said that a lasting love can’t be built on deception. I asked them “How do I tell him? Do you want me to just come right out and say it? I don’t even know how to put it into words that won’t make it seem so tawdry, especially to a sophisticated guy like him.”

As usual it was when I called Barbara that I got some really useful insight into my problem. I prefaced my quandary with a description of George. I raved about how wonderful he was, how he had treated me with such kindness, and even how the first few dates had gone. She was getting ready to tell me congratulations when I told her that he had no idea about either the fact that I was different or that I had been hooking. She asked me four simple questions: “Are you in LOVE with him?” “Is he in love with you?” “Have you had sex with him?” and “What are you trying to accomplish here, do want him in your life or not?”

I told her that I liked George very much. How could I not? He was everything any girl would want and more. But my feelings for him were that of admiration, not adoration. I don’t think that I would be happy spending the rest of my life with him, and him alone. Is he in love with me? “I think that he is in the process of falling for me…and pretty hard if he isn’t there already. He is so enamored by my personality, that he doesn’t see any of my flaws. He says he’s never met a woman like me, and I suspect that’s true. He has mostly dated society girls who fall all over themselves to stay in his favor, but never say anything that amuses him. It was my truthfulness that initially interested him; evidently these society types aren’t very self-deprecating.” When she asked me the third question and I said no, she gasped “Jesus, is this man gay, or a boy scout? Hasn’t he even tried?” I told her that all of our dates had been in public, and that he hadn’t maneuvered me to a place where a guy like him would even think of doing it. “Well then sweetie, you had better think about how you are going to maneuver him into a place where he would think about it! You just simply have got to have sex with this guy, before you start thinking about telling him anything. What is it that you want out of this relationship? Why do you want to tell him about you anyway?” I explained that I really didn’t want him to be hurt when he inevitably found out…in the long run. I went on to say that I would love to have him in my life, but only as a friend. “I do love him, but not like that kind of love. I respect him, hell he’s even marvelous to look at. But you know he’s like the arch, it’s cool to look at, I want it to be there by the river forever. But do I want to live with it? No.” Barbara continued with some insight on why it was so important for me to have sex with him. “If you are interested in letting him down easy, you have to have sex with him. Period. If you don’t he will spend the rest of his life wondering if it would have caused the magic that made you love him. He would always feel like you were ‘the one that got away’. If you want to keep him as a friend, you really must have sex with him before you tell him either of your nasty secrets.”

I finished the conversation by telling her that Katie said to be sure say and say “hi”. I told her that I loved and missed her and said goodbye. There was a sadness in her voice when she said “I love you too honey. I really wish I was there to help out more. Bye Bye.” Then she hung up.

I called Juanita and told her I would need Friday night off. Then I called George at the office and told him I was cooking dinner for him Friday night…at his apartment.

Chapter Thirty Six

2010-02-16T14:41:00.003-07:00

Sunday was the only day of the week that I really got to sleep in, so I arose at ten, hurriedly ate some breakfast and sped down to the Beauty Parlor. We had stopped there the day before and Frank had given them the credit card number so I would be able to look my best at the country club that afternoon. I gave them an hour and a half, which really wasn’t enough time for ‘the works’, but it wasn’t an evening function so at least I wouldn’t be embarrassed mixing with the female half of the country club elite. They did my hair and nails, but I passed on the make-up because it would probably just melt and run in the heat by the pool. I could just do a cursory job of that, and that would be easier to touch up than something complicated that they would do.

After the beauty parlor, I was hurriedly rushing around the apartment, trying to get ready because I knew Frank would be picking me up shortly. George was playing a round of golf that morning before our date. After I had dressed and put on my face, I packed everything I thought I might want in my Shoulder Bag : cigarettes, lighter, make-up & toiletries, some undies to wear after our afternoon by the pool, the duct tape, a paperback novel to read while George swam, etc. I had bought the shoulder bag at the Northland Mall for $15, it was black & white print and I really got my good out of it, I usually brought it on my evening ‘dates’ too.

I would wear the bikini under my clothes so I wouldn’t have to put it on when I got there. It took me about fifteen minutes to do Barbara’s little ‘duct tape trick’. I checked in the mirror to make sure it looked just right before putting on the ‘pedal pushers’ and peasant blouse that I had sewn from Simplicity patterns. I looked a little frumpy, but I really didn’t have anything more appropriate. The diamond earrings didn’t really match the outfit, but I wanted to wear them for George. Frank was patiently waiting at the curb when I finally made it out the door.

While I was riding in the back of the limo alone, I again began to ponder where my relationship with George was going to lead. He had treated me like a queen and was no doubt becoming more enamored with me. I liked him; that was true enough, but didn’t feel as if I loved him. I certainly didn’t want to hurt him, or even disappoint him, but I thought it was almost inevitable.

After Frank dropped me at the front, the doorman directed me to the changing rooms and the pool area. I didn’t really turn any heads between the front door and the changing room and am usually happy to go unnoticed. The attendant at the changing rooms was a nice black woman who called me ma’am, I told her “You don’t have to call me ma’am, my name is Margaret what’s yours?” She beamed and replied with her name and directed me to one of the rooms. It was small, but elegantly appointed. There was a little loveseat and a nice painting on the wall. It also had a sink, toilet, and shower that were spotless. After I removed my street clothes and touched up my face, I checked my appearance in a full length mirror mounted on the door. I grabbed my shoulder bag and left the room with the terrycloth robe draped over my forearm. The attendant directed me toward the pool and said “Ya’ll be sure and let me know if there’s anything you need Miss Margaret.” I thanked her and proceeded to the pool.

As I stepped out of the door, a waiter asked me if I’d like anything to drink, so I ordered lemonade. George spied me and came over and greeted me with a smile. He took one of my hands in each of his, and said “Let me look at you,” spreading my hands to reveal the bikini he had purchased for me. He seemed impressed, so I said “You like?” He said “You look fantastic! Where would you like to sit?” I extended my arm and pointed to spot on the other side of the pool where there was an umbrella and said “Over there, in the shade.” I took his arm and he led me around the pool to the opposite side. On the way over there, I began to notice people staring. George noticed too and whispered “I think the women are staring because they are jealous of you and the men are staring because they are jealous of me.” I started to sway my hips just a little bit more. All eyes followed us to the table I had chosen.

It was a very relaxing afternoon; I just laid there in a chaise lounge and read my book. When my glass was empty, the waiter returned and I got a 7-up with a splash of lemonade. Every now and then George would dive into the pool and swim around a bit to cool off, get out and dry off, and then return to his drink, and me. When he was with me, I didn’t just sit there reading, we were talking. I genuinely enjoyed the man’s company. He was an engaging conversationalist. I was curious about his ‘love history’ and just came right out and asked him “George, you are truly the nicest man I have ever met. Please don’t think poorly of me, but I am wondering why a really terrific guy like you isn’t already taken.” His usual infectious smile disappeared, he looked pensive. He paused for a minute, and with a very serious look replied “There have been many women in my life. A few have felt something for me that I just didn’t feel for them. Most of them at least thought that they were interested in marrying me. There were also quite a few girls that I met that I was in love with, but they just didn’t feel the spark…that explains nine tenths of them. Then there were a few with whom I really had something mutual, but…” He exhaled and reached for my hand and continued “I was so involved with work, that they took exception to me taking so much time away from them to run the business. I felt a responsibility to my father to shepherd the family business in the proper direction. He had worked so hard to build it up, and he had entrusted it to me. On top of that, I was carrying my brother’s half of the load, so I had even more work and worry.” I could only reply with “Those women were fools. Couldn’t they see the future security and happiness in a marriage with such a motivated man?” He smiled and said “They didn’t describe me as motivated, they said I was ‘driven by greed’ “.
The next time my glass was empty the waiter returned, and I asked him for “The opposite.” He looked confused and said “I’m sorry ma’am, but the barkeep will probably ask me what that is, and I have no idea myself.” I put the empty on his tray and coyly said “Last time I got a 7-up with a splash of lemonade, this time I’d like a lemonade with a splash of 7-up…and you can call me Margaret.” George never ceased to be very amused by my manner.

Chapter Thirty Five

2010-02-11T14:18:00.002-07:00

The morning after our date, a messenger arrived with a package. It was a small box with a card. The card said:

Margaret,
Thank you so much for spending some of your time with me, as I know that you have so little of it in your busy life. I consider those few hours to be so precious. Your personality has brought a light into my life that I didn’t know was possible.
Sincerely,
George

I opened the small package and was floored by its contents. There was a small velvet jewelry box containing a pair of diamond earrings. My moms and Aggie were aghast. Susan said they probably cost about five hundred dollars. (They would be about $1300 in today’s dollars.)

When George called on Friday, it was at noon…sharp. He asked if I had any more specific ideas about what we could do that I would enjoy. I said “I don’t really know, a picnic or something, it doesn’t have to be a big production.” He replied, “How about an afternoon by the pool at the club? That’s pretty relaxing.” To which I replied “Oh goodness, I don’t even own a bathing suit, can’t we…” He cut me off and said that he wanted to buy me one and wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I said Jeez, you already bought me those gorgeous earrings, and…” He interrupted me again and said “Oh good, you got the package. Do you like them?” I told him “No, I don’t like them…I love them, they are exquisite! But you can’t…” He cut me off again and said “Yes I can, and I will. If I send Frank to pick you up, will you PLEASE let him take you shopping? I don’t mean to seem lecherous, but I would just love to see you in a swimsuit.” I relented and told him to send Frank by tomorrow at noon, and before we hung up I said “George, the sentiment you wrote on the card was especially nice.” He replied that he meant every word.

I immediately called Katie and asked her if she would accompany me on the shopping trip. Evidently the prospect excited her because she squealed into the phone so loud that it hurt my ear. “We just have to pick out a big sun hat, and shoes to go with! This is going to be sooo much fun…and sunglasses!! We’ve GOT to pick you out some really fantastic shades!” I was thinking “Oh Christ, I should’ve asked Susan to go with me. Now she would be much more practical about this.” My first thought was that Frank and I would pick Katie up at her house, but my second thought was that I didn’t want this to take hours and hours, so I told Katie to come to my house at 11:30 since she was habitually half an hour late. Before we hung up, dearest Katie thought of something that I hadn’t even pondered “Oh, my GAWD Peggy!” she gasped “how are you going to hide….IT?” To which I responded “Thanks for thinking of that, I hadn’t thought of it, but I know just what to do.”

After I hung up the phone with Katie, I dialed Barbara and told her my dilemma. I had always been able to get away with wearing a pantygirdle. It wasn’t as if I had that much to hide, but in a swim suit, even my little bit would have been obvious. Barbara calmly clued me in on a procedure that would do the trick “Don’t worry honey all you have to do is buy a roll of really good duct tape, shave everything but your…get a scissors and a pantyliner and…But whatever you do, remember to stay out of the water!” Okay, that would be easy, I couldn’t swim anyway.

The next day Frank showed up five minutes early, so I was sitting in the limo enjoying the stereo and the air conditioning. As I suspected, Katie’s dad dropped her off at noon. She was walking to the door of the shop, and I rolled down the window and said “Get in Silly!” She almost jumped out of her skin as she was surprised by the voice behind her. She hadn’t seen me through the tinted windows. “Gosh this car is really PLUSH!” was all she could say. I think Frank was very amused by Katie’s exuberance.

I absolutely must say here that Frank did indeed have a great deal of patience; we shopped for hours in about seven or eight different stores. We would go in and tear through the place looking for each of the items we were searching for. Frank would find a chair and sit there like a cigar store Indian and wait. Finally after five hours, we got everything we needed. The bikini was of course the most difficult item to find. I really would have preferred a one-piece, but Katie said that “If a girl your age shows up at a country club wearing a one piece, the message that’ll send to everyone is that she’s either a prude or a dork.” We settled on one that wasn’t too skimpy, it was navy blue. The salesgirl suggested that color for my pale white skin and dark hair color. I didn’t look so ridiculous in it, and the best part was that it fit! I picked out a really sexy pair of white strappy sandals with a two-inch heel, a white broad brimmed straw hat with a navy ribbon around the crown, a white terrycloth robe that was just the right length, and some very stylish sunglasses that were way too expensive. Frank and I were both tired by this time, but Katie kept us talking all the way to her house.

I was about an hour and half late for work for work at the club that evening, but had called Juanita to let her know ahead of time so she didn’t mind at all. “Just remember to punch in when you get here.” Was all she said.

One of my ‘regular dates’ was at the club that night and he asked me to go out with him soon, I made some excuse or another. I didn’t think it fair to George somehow. After work that night, before I drifted off to sleep, I briefly wondered where all this was going to go. Was I being fair to George? He was such a nice man. I was filled with dread again, I really didn’t want to hurt someone who had been so kind to me. Was he actually thinking of marrying me? Was I stringing him along? I was almost sure that he was falling in love with me. It felt both bad and good at the same time. Bad, because the relationship was bound to hurt him, if he really did care for me. Good because someone really terrific thought that I might be “the one”. All I could think of to do was pray and ask for God’s help.

Chapter Thirty Four

2010-02-01T23:14:00.005-07:00

Thanks to Elaine & Paul for posting comments! I was wondering if anyone would "ante up". Writers live for feedback! My life story resumes:

After dinner, Frank drove us to an upscale disco. I had danced with George before, that night that we had met, but I had been too tired to notice that he was an excellent dancer as well. While we taking a break from dancing, I ordered a beer and he again mentioned how different I was than the other women he had dated. He went on to say that he found it “refreshing” that I didn’t ‘put on airs’ for anyone, especially him, and just did and said what I felt. He related that the average girl he dated was constantly putting on an act so as to impress him.

I began to suspect that George had no idea about me at all. Literally all of the men that I had dated up to that time at least knew that I ‘turned tricks’ and was therefore a hooker in essence. A girl can tell by the way she is treated. Most of my dates, even if they were kind, had a subtle kind of way that they treated me that indicated that I was being ‘rented’ and therefore my opinions about anything were either ignored or unwelcome. This is just a guess mind you (probably colored by the fog of time), but about a third of them knew I wasn’t all girl. The ones who knew were probably excited about the prospect of being with me because I was different. That first date with George, I decided to just leave things as they were. If it came down to it, I wasn’t going to lie to the man, but I wasn’t going to go out of my way to tell him either. In the event, it became apparent to me that he really enjoyed my company and had a great deal of fun when we were together. He never ceased to be astounded by my manner, and was visibly amused by my candor. I guess he had never met a girl from the west (or an Irish girl for that matter, and I was both), as we “mean what we say” and more importantly, “say what we mean”.

A great deal of our conversation that night dealt with our ‘actualities’. He related that his father had made a great deal of money in commercial real estate, and that he had followed in his father’s footsteps. “My father is a self-made man who instilled a work ethic in me that has defined who I am today. You would like him very much and he would like you. He has always been adamant about not being so ‘class conscious’ so as to diminish the worth of every human being. He taught me those two things and they have been worth more than all the gold in Fort Knox. My mother on the other hand comes from ‘old money’ and is exactly the opposite. She is very pretentious and is incessantly treating people as if they are ‘beneath her station’. It is both annoying and embarrassing for my father and I to watch. My only sibling is a younger brother who takes after his mother in every way. He drinks to excess and really believes that he is one of the aristocratic class who should be allowed to do and say whatever he wishes. His work ethic is terrible. We both run the family business now that father has retired. My brother shows up late, verbally abuses the employees, drinks his lunch, and returns to the office for long enough to be able to say that he ‘worked’ that afternoon. He considers himself overworked, even though I am constantly smoothing feathers that he has ruffled and spend a great deal of my time repairing the damage caused when he finally decides to do something.” He went on to say that he did indeed reside at his parent’s estate, but only lived there on weekends. During the week he stayed at an upscale apartment closer to downtown. “But enough about my boring existence, tell me about you Margaret.”

I pretty much hit the high spots: “I was born in Denver, to a family of eight. When I was eleven, my father died and my family decided it would be best for all if I was sent here to St Louis to live with my Aunt. She is a dear woman who has raised me as her own, she is truly my mom. She divorced her husband not long after I arrived here, and we have been working very hard to make ends meet ever since. We operate a dry cleaners on the other side of the river, and live in a tiny walk-up apartment above the store. I am NOT a performer at Juanita’s club, I work there as a cigarette girl…the only reason that I was onstage that week was because the headline act canceled out on Juanita and she was in a jam. I did it as a favor to her. I normally work 85 hours a week, 8 hours a day Monday through Friday at our store, and 9 hours a night Tuesday through Saturday at the club. I relish what little sleep I get, but there is so little time; usually from 2:30 AM to 7 AM. My only day off is Sunday. Juanita gave me the night off so I could go out with you tonight. My Aunt had a stroke two months ago from working too hard for too many years. She is now unable to use her left arm or leg. My Aunt’s friend lives with us and she and I have to carry my aunt upstairs every night to feed and bathe her before we put her to bed. My family in Denver sent my little sister Aggie who is only fifteen here to St Louis so that she could help. She is working hard, and truly is a help, but that makes four women in a tiny one bedroom walk-up with only one bathroom.” George’s eyes got just a little bit bigger with every sentence. At first there was surprise, then I could tell that there was empathy after I revealed each facet of my story, I could see that he was trying to fathom what my life must be like. He reached across the little cocktail table and gently touched my hand, his eyes were filled with caring.

“Margaret, what would you like to do now, would you prefer another drink, would you like to dance, or do you want to go home?” I smiled and told him that I would love one more beer before he took me home and added “I like that you call me Margaret, you are the only one who calls me that, everybody else calls me Peggy.” He looked confused for a second and while we sipped our last drink of the night I went into a dissertation of all the nicknames for Margaret: “Maggie, Marjie, Margie, Margo, Margarita, Rita, Greta, Meg, Madge, May, Peg, Peggy, and the Gaelic diminutive Peggeen. I had even met a French woman whose husband had named their daughter Margaret; she called her daughter Daisy because Marguerita is French for the flower that’s called a Daisy in English.” When I ran out of breath, he said “That’s fascinating, I had no idea there are so many nicknames for Margaret.”

We chatted a bit more in the back of the limo while Frank drove us to my house. When we were about ten minutes away, George asked me “Margaret, may I kiss you goodnight.” I told him that I would be disappointed if he didn’t. He politely gave me a peck on the cheek. I said “I thought you said you were going to KISS ME!” With that he said “Margaret, you are truly a delight!” Then he embraced me and kissed me full on the lips. Frank stopped at the curb in front of our little storefront got out and ran around the car and stood there waiting without opening the door. George said “When will you see me again?” I thought about it for a second and said “Sunday afternoon, let’s do something informal so I don’t have to go to a whole bunch of trouble getting ready.” He beamed and said that he would call Friday at noon to confirm. This time I kissed him, said thanks and told him that I had fun. When I opened the door, Frank took my hand and assisted me out of the car. George was eyeing the building where I lived, and I whispered to Frank “Don’t get lost on the way home.” He just smiled and said “Thank you ma’am. I’ll be fine.” Frank got back in behind the wheel and sat there until I got the key out of my little clutch and unlocked the door. When I was safely inside, Frank drove away…in the wrong direction.

Chapter Thirty Three

2009-12-12T12:06:00.002-07:00

George phoned the day of our date to inform me that he would be unable to pick me up that evening. I was basically relieved and said “That’s okay, maybe another time.” He continued explaining that he did want to go out, but that he couldn’t pick me up, so he would send ‘a car’ at seven. I asked him how I should dress, and he replied “a nice evening dress should be okay.”

I didn’t have a “nice evening dress”; the only thing I could think of was Patricia’s party dress that we had made years before. It fit okay, but was a little “dated” and wasn’t really an evening dress, it was more of a Party dress. I ran downtown in a panic, tearing through the department stores. At about four o’clock I was about ready to give up and just wear the party dress when I saw a little shop walking back to where I had parked. I went in and found something that would work perfectly. It was a ‘disco dress’ and was super sexy and flattering in all the right places, it had miniature silver metallic sequins from the bodice to hip area front and back. It had a low scooped back, a dropped waist, and bias cut skirt. The Label was ‘Karat Club’. It had a boat-cut neckline and fell nicely over my body without clinging, the hemline was mid-calf. Earlier when I was driving downtown, I had resolved that if I didn’t find anything for less than forty dollars I wouldn’t get anything. Now after looking for three hours, and finding the perfect dress, I was sold. One of the main reasons I bought it was because it was multi-purpose. I wasn’t going to buy anything that I wasn’t ever going to wear again. When I saw the tag, I thought “Ninety-Five Dollars?!!! Jeez, who would pay that?” But it fit so nicely and when I asked if it was on sale, the woman at the register took pity on me and knocked off 15%. On my way out of the little store, I spied a pair of black strappy three inch heels. Originally I was going to wear my black pumps, because I was running out of time and wouldn’t have to re-do my toe nails, but these were too cute to pass up, I think I paid twenty bucks for them. It turned out to be money well spent.

I rushed home and started getting ready after helping Susan carry Patricia up the long flight of stairs. While Aggie was fixing dinner, Susan helped me get ready because I was running so late. I had to shave my legs & pits and get my hair & make-up done so I at least wouldn’t scare anybody. Susan painted my nails for me as I was never able to do even a decent job of that for myself. The doorbell rang and Aggie ran downstairs and told the driver to wait. While my nails were drying she told me that the driver was really a chauffeur and that he seemed a little confused by the fact that our “residence” was also a business. I’m sure that the address threw him off too. I’ll bet he had never before picked up one of ‘Master George’s’ dates on the east side of the river. At eight o’clock the nails were finally dry and I stuffed myself into the dress. I said good-bye to my family and negotiated the stairs in my new heels. I paused for ten seconds in front of the full length mirror that hung in the shop to make sure that I didn’t look like a train wreck.

Through the storefront window I saw the chauffeur looking at his watch, not to tell the time, but obviously to let me know that I was late. It wasn’t a ‘car’ that George had sent for me, it was a bona fide limousine. After holding the door for me, the driver ran around to the driver seat and pulled away from the curb. He was driving like a little old lady, and I thought “Jeez, if we’re so fuggin late, why doncha step it up a bit?” But then I thought “Maybe rich folks would rather be late than get tossed around in the cavernous back seat of their limo.” The driver had obviously never even been in this part of town, and I wanted to give him directions, but the window between the front and back seats was up. I was looking for the button that rolled it down, when the driver saved me the trouble. “Would you like to hear some music miss?” I replied that I would, and almost said “Whatcher name bub?” but I thought better of it and asked him in a little more demure fashion. He told me his name was Frank. I said “Well Frank, if we are going to Terre Haute, this is the way, but if we are going to almost anywhere in St Louis, you had better turn around.” He was apologetic and said thanks. He told me that the silver button in the middle of the back seat would give me access to the radio; I selected a radio station, and gave him directions until we were westbound on the Eads bridge.

We arrived at the Glen Echo country club at about half past eight. Frank didn’t have to get out of the car as a uniformed doorman was waiting at the curb. I took his arm and he led me up the front steps and to the dining room. The maitre d’ told me that Mister George was waiting and led me to his table. I was wondering how the maitre d’ knew I was with George, when it dawned on me that I was probably the only person there whom he never seen before. When we arrived at his table, George stood smiling and gave me a courteous “Good evening Margaret” while the ‘hired help’ held my chair for me.

I began the conversation by saying I was sorry for being so late, but George stopped me by saying “You’re not late, I didn’t expect you for another 15 minutes.” I related the story of the shopping, preparations, and Frank getting quite lost which amused him greatly. I have always been a little too blunt; it must be the five percent of me that is male. I proceeded to admonish my date for not giving me enough notice to get ready for a date that was so extraordinary for a working class girl like me. I told him that it was possible that he probably got the wrong impression of who I really was because of how I looked the first time he had seen me. The man was so naturally chivalrous and debonair that he diffused my lecture with a sincere apology and promised to be more thoughtful in the future.

As our date progressed, I began to notice his many positive attributes. He was strikingly good looking, like a movie star. A Stewart Granger type, his face was rugged, handsome, but not too pretty. He has those laugh lines at the corners of his eyes that only added to his visage. He was fit, tan, and conspicuously well groomed, not one of his ‘salt & pepper’ hairs out of place. He was a genuinely affable man who was unassuming even though he was obviously ‘very well off’. He was so even tempered that I can’t recall even a single time that he had other than a kind word for anyone; this ingratiated him to everyone who knew him, butler and millionaire alike. He treated people with respect and was the most unpretentious man I ever met. His clothing was best described as natty or stylish. He was so eloquent and attentive that he was considered to be the best date in town. He had a disarming manner that made him easy to be around, but he wasn’t insecure at all. In short, I studied him for months, and was unable to find even a single flaw other than the fact that he was only five foot ten (I had to be careful not to wear over a three inch heel or I would appear too tall for him). In my mind, we were the odd couple, his perfection next to my plethora of flaws. I wondered why a man in his early forties like him wasn’t already attached. Even more than that what did he see in a ‘shopworn angel’ like me?

Chapter Thirty Two

2009-12-01T08:37:00.003-07:00

While the magician was on I was really getting shaky. I hadn’t eaten since lunch, and it dawned on me that the shakes weren’t only from my nerves, but also because my blood sugar was dropping. I got Juanita to get me an order of fries and a burger patty with some Ketchup from the kitchen. She brought me a Coke too, which was a good idea. After I took a few bites I felt better. Juanita stayed with me in the dressing room to keep me calm until she had to introduce the Comedian. His act was only about ten minutes and it dawned on me that if I really sucked, it wouldn’t matter much anyway. Juanita came back to the dressing room and led me by the hand to where I would wait sidestage. I peeked through the drape at the side to see where Katie was sitting, so I could make eye contact with her. “If I just focus on Katie, I’ll be okay” I thought to myself. Juanita let go of my hand and strutted out onstage after the comedian’s final bow, and strolled up to the microphone and “Let’s hear it again for Tommy”, and the crowd gave her a half-hearted round of applause. “And now Ladies and Gentlemen, all the way from Denver, the fabulous “Margaret”! She waved her right hand to stage right with a flourish and I mechanically began to walk out on stage. There was a little applause, the music started and Juanita exited stage left. I found Katie’s face in the crowd and started to lip sync to Teresa Brewer’s “Sweet Ol’ Fashioned Girl” and began to go through the motions that I’d rehearsed. When the music stopped I was thinking “That wasn’t so bad, at least the place isn’t packed, there are maybe forty people in the club tonight.” I was more than a little surprised when there was a little applause. The second song started, I had picked Jo Stafford singing “Teach me Tonite” and was even doing a little better with that one that I had with the first. It was still pretty mechanical, as I just wasn’t swaying with the music like I was feeling it. I smiled at Katie and she put two fingers in her mouth to give me a ‘wolf whistle” which oddly enough got the crowd into the performance. When the second number was over, I had a short bit I would do thanking Juanita for the nice introduction and giving an explanation of why I picked the third song even though it wasn’t Christmas…it was Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby”. I was to go side stage with the microphone and would get a stool that Juanita would have ready for me while giving the set-up for the song. I would bring the stool center stage, they would drop all the lights except for the center stage spot, I would sit on the stool and seductively ensure that my leg was hanging out of the slit up the side of my dress. I wanted to show enough leg that the top of my hose and a garter could be seen. I was very surprised at the smattering of applause I got after I had finished. I got off the stool and hurried offstage, handing the microphone to Juanita on my way off.

It hadn’t been a disaster, but I was very glad that it was over. Katie was at the dressing room door in about three minutes after I left the stage. She was raving about how entertaining it was, mostly just to be nice, because she was my dear friend. I ordered a shot of Irish and a beer to unwind, and had gulped the shot of whiskey, and was sipping the beer while I got out of my dress when Juanita came to the door. She told me that she was very pleased with how it had all gone, and that a gentleman in the audience had requested my presence at his table. I was really trying to beg off, saying that I was really tired, but Juanita was insistent. I relented and said “Oh alright, but only if Katie can come with me.” Juanita made her annoyed face, and said “Meet me at the maître d’s stand when you’re ready.” I didn’t want to pull that dress back on, but I did, and Katie zipped me up. I padded back to the maitre’d in my bare feet because the new shoes were killing me. I balanced myself and put the shoes back on there and I was hoping to just sit down soon. Juanita led Katie and I to the gentleman’s table and cordially introduced us. The gentleman was indeed extremely good looking and my first thought was that he would think he had made a mistake when he saw me from a point of ‘closer inspection’. He ordered us some drinks and was making small talk when the house combo started playing again. He was tapping his toe and I thought “Oh fuck, please don’t ask me to dance.” My feet were killing me, and I was exhausted. I was trying to be nice, because he was truly being attentive. He asked me to dance. I told him maybe after a couple of drinks. Gentlemen always got a huge kick out of the fact that I always ordered beer. (The shot I had that night was probably the only one I drank that year.) They were amused that I never ordered a ‘pink flamingo’ or some shite like that. I felt better after sitting for a while, and after the second beer, I didn’t care that my feet hurt so much. The house band was playing a tune I liked, so I danced with the nice man. He wanted me to leave the club with him that night, but I said I was sorry, and that I really & truly liked him, but that “I couldn’t possibly tonight…but how about next week?” His face lit up and he said “May I call you?” I told him “Of course” and gave him my number. I was driving Katie home that night, and on the way she just couldn’t stop talking about him. She raved about how handsome he was. His name was George.

The performances went just a little bit better on the subsequent nights. A regular ‘date’ of mine was my ‘face in the crowd’ to focus on Thursday. Katie brought her Mom and Dad on Friday. I got more than a little freaked out when the Eartha Kitt record got scratched on Friday night after the performance. After the club closed I rehearsed actually singing it with the house band’s accompaniment, the band guys said it sounded okay to them. Luckily it’s not a song that requires a whole lot of range, you just sort of ‘talk in pitch’. Saturday came and I had something new to be nervous about as I actually had to sing the last number. The club was packed, and I was afraid that my voice was going to crack or something. What made it worse was that the audience was pretty boisterous and had actually booed the magician. Susan got ‘the duty’ that night to be my familiar face in the crowd, while I was doing my first number, I was looking in the middle of the room for her as I had told her to sit there. When I finally saw where she was, I saw she had company. I sure felt better when I saw Stanley Jackson, Aggie, and Patricia sitting with her. Officer Jackson had evidently made it possible for Patricia to go that night as Susan needed his help to get her into the wheelchair and then into the club. It was a very nice surprise. As usual, I was in a hurry to exit the stage after I finished and was interrupted by a really nice round of applause. Juanita grabbed me on my way off and brought me back out to center stage to take another bow.

I was surprised by the applause, as I really had no idea of how I sounded. For all I knew they would throw tomatoes when I finished. All’s well that ends well though. I had been so incredibly nervous. My obligation to Juanita was fulfilled. In the following weeks there were several times that customers bought cigarettes from me and made nice comments like “You were good, I enjoyed your show.” Or “Why aren’t you in the show anymore?” Juanita wouldn’t bother me again about performing, at least not for a while. My family had really enjoyed the show; they said I was honestly good. I guess they had a great deal of fun watching me squirm.

George (the gentleman that I had met at the club the night of the first performance) called on Sunday and asked me out to dinner for the following week. An hour after I had consented to have dinner with him, a dozen long stemmed roses and a heart shaped box of confection arrived. The card read only: Thank You, George
***
As a footnote to the above entry:
Thanks to all of you who helped find the artist who created the cover image for my novel, especially Colleen Eris. Of course my undying gratitude goes out to the artist who signs her work "PinkBra"...Thanks Jennifer!

Chapter Thirty One

2009-11-28T05:37:00.003-07:00

I should mention here that Katie and I were still friends, we chatted on the phone at least once a week. She was very supportive especially when Barbara left town because she could tell that I was devastated. It was so nice to have a kindred spirit with whom I could share my hopes, dreams, and fears. She was always trying to encourage me to take some time off, but I have been compulsive about ‘getting things done’ and ‘taking care of business’ all my life. She especially pressured me to spend some time with her, but I always had something that just had to be done. It got to the point where we would have dinner together during the week of my birthday, but as years passed that’s the only time that we would get together.

Before Aggie had even arrived, Susan said “Now where do you suppose the little princess is going to sleep? Huh?” I had thought about the sleeping arrangements, but after pondering for a few minutes hadn’t been able to come up with a quick and easy solution. Part of the problem was that Susan was fearful that Aggie’s mother (my birthmom) would go ballistic if she found out that we were ‘exposing’ her youngest daughter to lesbianism. She had met Susan in the past, but only for a few minutes. Patricia had made it a point not to flaunt her sexuality in front of my birthmom, let alone sleep with Susan right under her nose, Susan had always ‘made herself scarce’ during her visits. We all suspected that my birthmom knew about Patricia and Susan’s relationship, but we didn’t know for sure, and didn’t want to throw gasoline on the fire. In the long run it wasn’t an issue because Aggie was a great kid. I made her promise to keep Patricia’s secret…”be extra careful not to even give her any clues. You wouldn’t want to hurt your Aunt Patricia would you?” Aggie was not only okay with the idea, she was ecstatic about it, saying “I think it’s sooo cool.” So basically we got another twin bed and put it next to mine in the ‘living room’. I was worried the first couple of nights because Aggie was so chatty all day long, that I was afraid that she would talk all night too. My worries were unfounded though because the kid was like a racehorse, full of energy throughout the day, but when her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light.

During these months, my life had gotten even more hectic than usual. Keeping the shop running, going on my ‘dates’ even 2 or 3 nights a month, keeping Juanita from going completely crazy with desire, and still working at the club five nights a week was bad enough. But caring for Mom, the person who had taken me in and raised me as her own daughter, had really added to my workload and stress. I was being extra careful to take my vitamins, eat right, and get enough sleep, but after about two months, I was on the verge of exhaustion. Feeding, cleaning, and caring for Patricia was telling on Susan too. We had to do almost everything for her, except for the paperwork that was associated with the business. We carried her downstairs to her wheelchair and she was in it all day long. Then at the end of the workday, we had to carry her back upstairs. After dinner Susan and I would put her in the tub and she would bathe herself, but then we had to get her out of the tub, help her dress, and carry her to bed.

Of course it never rains unless it pours. I was doing all this extra work at home, and that’s when Juanita approached me to take on an extra responsibility at the club. I was really considering quitting but had no idea of how to go about it without incurring the “Wrath of Juanita”.

As I mentioned before, she had several establishments around town, most were just bars, but some were restaurants, and some of them were even ‘lounges’ where she booked piano players or small combos to play soft music while the patrons enjoyed their meals. But the club where I was employed was the only place that called itself a ‘showclub’. She had a manager for every one of her establishments, and as the owner kept tabs on them by checking the books regularly, but the showclub was the only place that she had a hand in the day to day operation. The part of the business that she directly ran was the floorshow itself, booking the acts and sort of acting as a stage manager. I will say this for her, she did a pretty good job picking a variety of acts that would draw people from all over the area.

She claimed that she was in a bind and needed my help. The act that she had booked to headline the following week had cancelled. “What am I going to do, have the magician headline? Could you get up there and do a couple of Barbara’s old numbers?” I told her that I would really be bad at it, but she just went on. “I’ll have the magician open, followed by the comedian, followed by you. They’ll be half lit by then, and if you really underplay it they won’t even pay any attention.” At first I emphatically said “NO!!!” I was never one to draw attention to myself, that was just not my style. She kept pleading with me, she said I OWED her. Which was true on one level. She was personally responsible for my earning thousands of dollars. But in my mind, those dollars were earned, not given to me. I tried to reason with her, but I finally came to the realization that there wasn’t any way to get out of this without invoking her ire. I gave in and just said “When, and how much?” The delight in her voice was obvious “Next week Tuesday through Saturday, then I’ll owe you a favor and never ask you to do it again.” I re-iterated the second half of my question: “How much ‘Nita, you’re not really expecting me to do this for cigarette girl wages are you?” She hemmed and hawed for bit, and finally said two hundred a night for Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and if you’re as good as I think you’ll be, Friday and Saturday will be more.” She knew I wouldn’t do it for any less than that, it had to be at least twice what I usually made in tips. I also told her that I had nothing to wear, and that she would pay for that too.

As soon as I walked out of her office, I was filled with dread. God, that was a long week! The only way I knew of to make it as painless as possible was to invite somebody I knew for every night I had to be up there on stage alone. At least there would be one friendly face in the crowd. The other thing I did was to stop at the record store on the way home and buy three recordings of the numbers I would be performing. I just listened to the three songs the first few nights, and started practicing the act in front of Susan, Patricia, and Aggie on Sunday. By Monday I had it memorized.

Tuesday morning Juanita took me shopping to buy me an appropriate ensemble. She bought me a very slinky white evening gown, shoes, gloves, and even some really glitzy earrings. I was in a total panic because we couldn’t seem to find a feather boa which I had planned on for part of the act. I called Katie just for some consolation, and she rescued me! She made some phone calls and came up with one, it was hot pink and I had planned on black, but it looked okay. It was one PM by the time Juanita dropped me at her beauty parlor and told her stylist “The works sister, anything she wants…and send the bill to me.” It took four hours of plucking, fluffing, caking, and painting to make me look about half as good as Barbara looked before she went on stage. I was really tired, but was really too nervous to notice. I was of course also thinking of poor Susan and how she was going to get Patricia upstairs without my help.

Juanita had hired a photographer to take some shots of me in the whole outfit, which I thought was really thoughtful until I started seeing handbills all over the place with my picture on them. It was however the best picture ever taken of me. At least it didn’t have my last name on it, It just said: “see the famous performer: MARGARET!” then it also had the dates and the address and name of the club.

Chapter Thirty

2009-11-10T06:03:00.001-07:00

I was still working at the shop until four every day and then I would run upstairs, bathe, and eat a snack before rushing off to the club. I would work at the club until it closed at two AM and hurry home to bed. I was really trying to take better care of myself though, Mondays I only worked until five and then had the night off (which seemed like a half day of work to me), and of course Sunday both the shop and the club were closed.
I was so busy that I hadn’t noticed that Patricia was really immersing herself in work, and it was starting to tell on her health. She had been ravaged by years of stress, she was smoking too much, and of course worrying about me. One evening while sitting at our kitchen table, she just froze and started staring straight ahead. Susan and I tried to get her to snap out of it, but it lasted for about five minutes. When she finally regained consciousness, she seemed a little confused and was unable to use her left hand very well at all. Susan called Dr Steph right away, and she told her to get Patricia to the hospital as soon as possible. We hadn’t known it before we called, but Patricia was unable to walk, her left leg just wouldn’t work. Susan pulled her car around front and she and I carried Patricia to the car. She just kept saying “Why don’t you silly bitches just put me in bed, I’ll be alright tomorrow.” When we got to the hospital I went into the emergency room and got an orderly to help us get Patricia out of the car and into the hospital. Everyone there was very kind and courteous. Dr Steph showed up right away and told us to go to the waiting room. She performed some initial tests and then came out to the waiting room to talk to us. She told us that the most likely cause was a slight stroke, but that a Neurologist was coming in to do some more extensive tests so that we could be sure. She told us not to wait at the hospital all night, as there really wouldn’t be anything we could do and there wouldn’t be any news until morning. We went back in to see Patricia; it was obvious that she wasn’t happy with us even though we had done the right thing. We knew she wasn’t thinking clearly, but that didn’t make it any easier when she rebuffed us. We both tried to kiss her but she leaned away from us. Then we both told her that we loved her and went away crying. We drove home sobbing, but silent. When we finally arrived there, we both trudged up the stairs, weary from the whole evening. Basically we both blamed ourselves for not taking good enough care of her (even though she never would have let us). We blamed ourselves for not making her stop smoking and letting her work too hard. We drank a couple of beers and held each other on the couch. She told me that she just couldn’t sleep alone that night, so when we finally went to bed I fell asleep in her arms.
The next day we met with the neurologist and he ratified what Dr Steph had told us the night before. When asked to what degree she would recover, he kind of sadly said that a complete recovery was not probable, but it was possible. He told us that a stroke is an injury to the brain, and although medical science had come a long way in other fields, some things about the brain and how it healed were still a mystery to mere Doctors. He also said that neurology was a field that made Doctors feel so helpless a lot of the time because there wasn’t much they could do except wait and see how the recovery went. We visited Patricia in her room and she had recovered most of her mental faculties, but was still unable to either use her left hand or move her left leg. She was glad to see us, and we were trying not to cry in front of her but it was of no use. We just loved her too much, and we blamed ourselves. She was much more emotionally strong than we were, and spent the whole visit trying to cheer US up. Susan stayed at the hospital, and told me to come back later and we would switch off. It was Monday, so they weren’t expecting me to work at the club that evening, but I called Juanita and told her what had happened and would need some time off. Juanita was great about the whole thing and told me to take as much time as I needed…she even sent flowers to Patricia’s room. That in and of itself is a snapshot of Patricia’s sense of humor, when she got the flowers she said “Gawd they are beautiful, but what a waste of money, they just die after a while anyway…I guess I hate flowers.”
I made a sign for the shop window that said “CLOSED UNTIL THURSDAY”. I was going back upstairs to make another phone call when the doorbell rang. I said under my breath “Can’t they fuckin’ read?” and went to shop window to shoo whoever it was away. But when I saw who it was I was obliged to open the door, it was Officer Jackson. “Hello Peggy, do you gals have a problem?” I told him that Patricia had a stroke. “Is there anything I can do?” I told him “No Stanley, but thank you so much for your concern.” Then I thought better of it and said “Wait, there is something you can do, keep an extra close eye on the shop for the next few days as we won’t be here very much.” He replied with “Sure thing Peggy, and you be sure to ask if there’s anything else I can do to help…and I mean anything. You gals are so precious to me. I truly believe that this whole neighborhood owes you gals a debt, you showed folks that a business can succeed down here.” I thanked him for his kind words and closed the door. I went back up the stairs and called my birthmother in Denver. I have no idea who answered the phone, but there was always a racket in that house, jeez I heard all kinds of hollering until she finally came to the phone and told them all to be quiet. The first words out of my mouth were “Shite ma, are ya havin’ a party?” “No No No, I’m just watchin’ the grandkids today…who is this?” “It’s ah, Peggy, you know, your other daughter.” Her voice changed a bit when she figured out who it was. “Oh, hello, how are you?” I explained that I had been better and that I had some pretty bad news. She detected the worry in my voice and with genuine concern said “What is it honey?” I went on to explain about her little sister having a stroke and how she wasn’t going to die, but probably wouldn’t ever walk again. What she said next floored me. “Oh my God, you poor kid. All those fuggin’ stairs, how are you going to get her up to your apartment? And how are you going to run the shop?” ** I was just getting ready to say that we’d figure something out when she said “Aggie will be on the next train.” I was going to try to talk her out of it because I really didn’t know my little sister Aggie. The last time I had seen her she was about seven, how much help could she be? But there was no talking my birthmother out of anything…ever. Before she hung up she told me “Work Aggie like a mule, it’ll do her good…and don’t take any shite from her either. Keep me posted on Patricia’s condition. I’ll call ya after I put Aggie on the train.”
For the next week, there was a patrol car with two policemen parked down the block, watching our shop around the clock. We waved at them as we came and went from the hospital. On my way home from the hospital I would stop and pick those guys up something to eat. They were very appreciative…and so was I.
When I told Susan the ‘good news’ that my little sister was coming from Denver to help, the first words out of her mouth were “Oh my God, how old is she?” When I said fifteen, Susan had a fit. “That woman is always pawning one of her brood off on somebody else. Just what we need right now is a kid to take care of.” I assured Susan that if Aggie didn’t pull her weight that I would put her back on the train in a week.

**My birthmother was the youngest of her siblings to be born in Ireland. She was always proud of the fact that she never lost her “Brogue” and used Gaelic words often to instill in us a feeling of our Celtic Heritage. The family emigrated to the United States before Patricia (the baby of the family) was born.

My little sister’s name was really Abiageal, but since it was so hard for her to pronounce when she was little, everybody just started calling her Aggie which was how she said her own name. Aggie wasn’t a little kid anymore, she was a very mature 15 years old. She started working hard right away. She didn’t require much in the way of teaching either, show her once, and she was on it. She could run the machines as well as I could in a day. The only reason I was able to re-open the shop so soon was Aggie, she was willing to do anything to help in any way that she could. Susan was convinced after working around her for about four hours. The only problem with Aggie was that she never shut up. I didn’t mind listening to her because I knew most of the people she was talking about, aunts & uncles, sisters, and cousins. Most of her stories were funny, and it was just her way being friendly and familiar. But she was indeed a legendary chatterbox. When Patricia finally came home from the hospital I think it was good for her too. Listening to Aggie exercised Patricia’s mind, but Susan told me “That kid just wears me out.”

Before Aggie had even arrived, Susan said “Now where do you suppose the little princess is going to sleep? Huh?” I had thought about the sleeping arrangements, but after pondering for a few minutes hadn’t been able to come up with a quick and easy solution. Part of the problem was that Susan was fearful that Aggie’s mother (my birthmom) would go ballistic if she found out that we were ‘exposing’ her youngest daughter to lesbianism. She had met Susan in the past, but only for a few minutes. Patricia had made it a point not to flaunt her sexuality in front of my birthmom, let alone sleep with Susan right under her nose, Susan had always ‘made herself scarce’ during her visit. We all suspected that my birthmom knew about Patricia and Susan’s relationship, but we didn’t know for sure, and didn’t want to throw gasoline on the fire. In the long run it wasn’t an issue because Aggie was a great kid. I made her promise to keep Patricia’s secret…”be extra careful not to even give her any clues. You wouldn’t want to hurt your Aunt Patricia would you?” Aggie was not only okay with the idea, she was ecstatic about it, saying “I think it’s sooo cool.” So basically we got another twin bed and put it next to mine in the ‘living room’. I was worried the first couple of nights because Aggie was so chatty all day long, that I was afraid that she would talk all night too. My worries were unfounded though because the kid was like a racehorse, full of energy throughout the day, but when her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light.

Chapters Twenty Eight and Twenty Nine

2009-11-03T11:46:00.005-07:00

I wish that there were some way to describe the following events and make them fit for a young impressionable reader, but there just isn’t. I thought about just deleting the account from my story, but I feel that what is described here is as much a part of me as anything else described in this story. I resolved to tell “The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

Warning: The following passage is not for the faint of heart. If the description of sexual abuse turns your stomach STOP READING THIS RIGHT NOW!!!! Skip the next two pages and start reading again at the beginning of chapter twenty nine. The following is exactly how I recall it. I defy ANYONE who has been treated like this just once to forget even a single detail even years later.

Juanita needed someone with whom she could fulfill her deviant sexual needs, so in Barbara’s absence, the task fell on me. (Tag you’re it, Peggy!) She was really good to me otherwise, but in the bedroom, she was more than demanding, she was downright abusive. Her sexual desires were more than a little kinky, but afterwards she was always very tender and apologetic. In short, it really made her hot to abuse me. She didn’t get horny very often, only every couple of months, but when she did she would toy with me for hours. I think she would actually be ashamed and remorseful afterwards, because she always treated me like a queen at the club. She took me shopping and bought me whatever clothes I wanted. She wasn’t able to increase my wages, because the manager of the club would have seen the payroll and been livid that I was making more than he was, so she just gave me cash…lots of it!
I distinctly remember a few instances when it made her hot to humiliate me in public when she was aroused. If she wasn’t horny, she always very sweet to me. She took me to a suburban department store and told the girl at the jewelry counter that “My little bitch really needs to have her ears pierced.” Then she looked right at me and said “You need your ears pierced don’t you honey?” While the sales girl was in the process of piercing my ears Juanita was getting off on not only humiliating me, but shocking the poor woman.
The most memorable time she insisted that we go to a tattoo parlor. I had agreed ahead of time that I would get a small tattoo for her as long as it wasn’t visible when I was wearing panties. She was really enjoying herself when she made me pull my panties down for the tattoo artist. He was of course shocked when he saw my little dick (I’m sure at that point he thought he had seen it all from being a tattoo artist). He really was trying to be professional and not get involved with Juanita’s little roleplay, but she persisted saying things like “I should make you suck this guy’s cock for payment, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” and “I’m gonna take this little tramp home and fuck her ass with a dildo, would you like to come and watch? Maybe we should just tie her to this table and do it right here, would you mind sir?”
After the visit to the tattoo parlor, she did exactly what she had promised. She tied my hands behind my back and pulled on my nipples until I was whimpering. She told me to “Shut the fuck up” and stuffed a pair of panties that she had worn the day before into my mouth. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, but that only served to make her more excited. She slapped my face so hard that it stung, the tears went flying away then she said “Stop crying or I’ll really give you something to cry about”. She very forcefully pushed me onto her bed and produced a six inch dildo and told me “Don’t move, or I’ll have to tie up more than just your hands.” She made me watch her while she fucked herself with the dildo. I could tell that she was doing it way too hard, she literally raped herself with it for about ten strokes. “Don’t you see that you make me hurt myself you dirty little bitch?” She then pulled the dirty panties out of my mouth and proceeded to forcibly jam the dildo down my throat. “You like that don’t you? You love to gag on big fat cocks don’t you whore?” I could only whimper and answer “mmmph”. “You’d better get that cock really wet, or you’ll regret it… yeah, that’s it, I want your slobber all over it…good girl!” I knew what she was going to do, and I knew I wasn’t ready. I had never minded being fucked, and occasionally even enjoyed it and had orgasms when I had the chance to ‘get ready’ but fear started to well up inside me. I was trying to relax, but it wasn’t going to happen, probably mostly because I was tied up and had forfeited control of the situation. I tried to take my mind off of it, but it was no use. When she took the slobbery dildo out of my mouth, I was only able to say one word before she stuffed the dirty panties back into my mouth…that word was “Please…” She started trying like hell to push the dildo into my ass, but luckily it just wouldn’t go. I was so nervous that I couldn’t have passed a raisin. She tried coaxing me, saying “C’mon whore, you know you want it”, but I wouldn’t let her, not this way. I was shaking my head “no” and saying “mmmph” as loud as I could, she didn’t want the neighbors to hear through the thin walls of her apartment, so she took a piece of duct tape and covered my mouth. She spit in my face and told me what a disgusting piece of shit I was. She slapped my face four or five times more and then forcibly tied my knees to my shoulders so that my ass was wide open and exposed. She raped herself with the dildo some more and blamed me for it again “Do you like to see me hurt myself like that?” I shook my head no and she said “Well then why do you make me do it?” She put clothespins on my nipples and then proceeded to cruelly slap her own pussy. She put clothespins on her own nipples then and proceeded to slap her own breasts. “Don’t you see what you do to me? I want you so badly that it makes me crazy. YOU make me do these sick things!”
She at least lubed the dildo up this time, which helped a lot, but she was far too forceful for it to be comfortable. If it had been any bigger or fatter, I would have bled. She definitely would have torn me open. The first five strokes were very painful, I was screaming as loud as I could thru the panties and duct tape. You’d be surprised how much noise you can make when gagged if you really try. She pulled the dildo out and put some more lube on it and that really helped. When she started fucking me with it again, I couldn’t help it, but I started to cum. “oh yeah, you little whore. I just knew you’d learn to like it.” She started pumping the dildo in and out of me, completely pulling it out with each stroke; the sensation was driving me crazy. I really didn’t want to, but I felt an orgasm begin to well up inside of me. I was beginning to see stars and that clear stuff began to literally erupt from my little dick. It squirted everywhere. I had it all over me. Juanita sucked up a big puddle of it and held it in her mouth. She ripped the duct tape from my face, pulled the panties out, and spit my own juice into my mouth. Then she sat on my face, almost smothering me. She was grinding her crotch into my face. “Oh yeah baby, clean my dirty ass, you know you love it you dirty pig.” When she slid back far enough for me to start working on her pussy, I was really anxious to make her come because I knew she would stop the painful abuse then. I was eating her pussy for all I was worth, licking, sucking, nibbling, and even biting, all of which seemed to drive her closer to the abyss. When at last she came, her spasms lasted for about five minutes even after she rolled off of me.
When she finally arose, it was like she was a totally different person. She was so ashamed for her actions and the awful things she had done to me. While she was untying me she was profuse with apology saying things like “I’m sooo sorry I hurt you, I shouldn’t let myself get soo excited. Can you ever forgive me? I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. You are so sweet…I don’t understand why I want to do such things when I’m horny.” It was like Jekyll & Hyde, after she had the release of orgasm, she was a totally different person.
I felt horrible, if I hadn’t had an orgasm, I might not have been so emotionally scarred. I was filled with sorrow, pain, and shame. I felt so dirty that no amount of washing was ever going to make me feel clean again. She untied me, hugged me, and had tears in her eyes from the genuine remorse. The sexual abuse of this particular time was by far the worst that she ever subjected me to. The tattoo is on my right butt cheek, it’s only about a quarter inch high and is one word, it says “Juanita”.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

The next time I went to work at the club, I was still sore and the tattoo was still stinging every time I sat down even though I was putting Bactine on it about five times a day. Juanita called me into her office and spent about a half hour apologizing. I was still kind of dazed, but I understood that she just wasn’t able to control her urges. She handed me a jewelry case, and in the case was a lovely necklace of genuine pearls. Then she handed me another jewelry case which contained a fine Cartier watch that I had admired on a previous shopping trip but had declined as ‘too expensive’. I was at a loss for words. She then handed me a greeting card in a pink envelope. The outside of the card says “For my Love.” When I opened the card five crisp one hundred dollar bills fell out. Inside the card she had written “How can you ever forgive me? I hope you can find it in your heart to try. love, Juanita”
After I left her office, I was mad at myself for not having thrown the gifts in her face. I was mad at myself for taking the money. I was disgusted by the thought that I had an orgasm during the abuse. I felt so filthy that the sight of my own face in the mirror made me sick. I had compulsively showered repeatedly since, but I still felt dirty.
The next time I had a chance to be alone with a telephone, I called Barbara and related the story of the tattoo incident. She wasn’t surprised, and said that it was bad for her, but also that it had never gone quite that far when she was with Juanita. She gave me some advice “Don’t let her go for two months without sex, it only gets worse the longer she puts it off. She would love to quit doing this completely, but she is like an alcoholic. When she falls off the wagon, she goes crazy. Don’t go out of your way to be extra sweet to her, that only makes it worse, it enables her to abuse you because she knows that you’ll ‘take it’ again and again if she thinks you love her. Peggy, you are so sweet and forgiving, that even though it’s not natural for you to do so, you have to give her the cold shoulder. Make her think that you might not forgive her next time if she goes too far.” All of that made perfect sense to me.
I then changed the focus of the phone conversation from Juanita to me. I told Barbara that I was really having trouble dealing emotionally with this. I felt ashamed and confused, primarily because I had an orgasm. Apparently I had enjoyed it at least on some level. For a few seconds there was silence on the phone line, and then she said “Peggy, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Don’t let the fact that someone else really fucked you over turn into some kind of guilt. If these thoughts persist, call your friend Dr Steph.” I thanked Barbara for her advice, told her I missed her even more than before, and said goodbye. In the event, I followed Barbara’s advice and it seemed to work. Barbara even helped me to a great degree after she had left town.
I started keeping track of Juanita’s cycle in my personal calendar so that I knew when she would be at her horniest. I never again let her go more than two months without sex. Every month when I knew she would be ovulating, I would make her take me out shopping. After which we would go back to her apartment. I would then see to it that she had at least one orgasm. She was still abusive in the bedroom, but mostly only verbally. I was happy to let her call me every name in the book as long as the money kept coming. It was hard for me not to be kind and upbeat with her though as that is just my nature. She was personally responsible for the thousands of dollars that I had accrued. I did love Juanita, but her evil twin was another story.
I continued to have some problems dealing with this on an emotional level. I began to be more introspective about it, searching inside for a reason why I not only tolerated, but liked the way she treated me in the bedroom. Over the years, it has kind of boiled down to the realization that I am a pleaser. I just love doing things for people to win their approval. There was a certain amount of this that I attribute to my relationship with my birthmother. Suffice to say that her ‘giving me’ to Patricia at such a young age gave me some lasting insecurity. How that all got twisted around in my mind is more complicated than I can even comprehend, let alone explain.

Chapter Twenty Seven

2009-10-28T11:22:00.001-06:00

After Barbara left for Vegas, I started to spend more time with my Moms. We were finally able to afford some small luxuries. We finally bought a TV set and enjoyed spending evenings together watching variety shows and especially old movies. We even started going out to dinner once a week. I was still working days at our shop and nights at Juanita’s club, but I slowed down a bit in that I wasn’t up half the night with Barbara. Gawd I missed her so. It left a huge void in my heart when she left. For the first year I honestly was thinking about joining her in Las Vegas.
My Moms had no idea that the ‘dates’ that I was going out on were really tricks, they thought I was just a ‘popular’ girl. Most of the time I wouldn’t even let the guy pick me up at home because I didn’t want them to know where I lived, there were a few select exceptions though. I usually only had two or three dates a month, but the men were very nice and almost always conducted themselves as gentlemen. I was able to attend some pretty swank affairs at the country club and other really nice places. There were about a dozen guys who dated me regularly in those days, some were in their forties, but most were in their thirties, and all were generous. Barbara had taught me so many beauty tricks about being female and looking my best that I would say that about a third of them never had any idea that I was not one hundred percent female, and two thirds of them were excited by the notion that Peggy was ‘different’. If Barbara hadn’t left town, all those dates would have been hers for sure. Even though I had a nicer body than she did, I just didn’t have the facial structure to be beautiful like she was. I would say honestly that I was cute, maybe even pretty, but never gorgeous or beautiful. I’m sure that the men she dated considered her a trophy, a girl to “be seen” with.
She did call when she had a phone installed and gave me the number. We did talk regularly to begin with, and my heart felt so empty without her in my life every day, but life went on and we started just sending a newsy note in the mail 3 or 4 times a year. After about two years in Las Vegas, she moved to San Francisco, and sent me a letter including her new phone number. I lost track of how many times she moved back and forth between Vegas and Frisco. Every letter and phone call was full of ‘the business is great’, ‘I’ve got a new part in a revue’, sort of stuff, but I suspected that it really wasn’t. Later I found out that she never really did as well in Vegas or Frisco as she had in St Louis.
I’ve said a lot so far about how strikingly gorgeous she was, her exterior was indeed what most people found so extraordinary, but her true beauty was on the inside. I felt a kinship with her that I haven’t shared with anyone else before or since. We were sisters, lovers, and friends. She taught me so much about myself, and probably more important, she taught me how to deal with other people without opening yourself up to injury…without their ever suspecting it. She taught me how to thrive as an intersexed woman in a world filled with people who didn’t wish us all the best.
Barbara’s absence left a void in other lives when she left St Louis. I really had no idea at the time, but Juanita was in love with her too. That is why she was so angry when Barbara told her “biz is biz honey”. Juanita told me later that she was very jealous of my relationship with Barbara because my love was returned, and hers wasn’t. Barb had told me in confidence that Juanita had a kinky sexual appetite, and that she had sex with her many times, but she didn’t let on that Juanita was in love with her. “It was just sex to me, part of my job as her employee. I’m just a toy that she uses. She considers me to be her property.”

Chapter Twenty Six

2009-10-16T22:30:00.002-06:00

Juanita threw a big bash for Barbara’s twenty first birthday. I knew exactly how old she was as we had been a couple for almost a year, but most of the attendees had no idea. Most of them did know that the ‘toast of St Louie’ was born Bobbie LaFleur in New Orleans. That was most of the attraction, men who wouldn’t even think that they might consider sex with another man, were mesmerized by her beauty. Upscale couples from the suburbs had all made it a point to see her act. It wasn’t that she was that talented, but she was indeed that beautiful. There was even a small article in the newspaper stating that the rumor around town was that she was a fraud and was born female, so the reporter called the hall of records in New Orleans and got a copy of the birth certificate. Robert Pierre LaFleur would be turning twenty one next month.
Juanita thought the whole thing was great free advertisement. What Juanita didn’t know was that Barbara had decided two months before that she had ‘outgrown’ St Louis and was planning on leaving for Las Vegas as soon as she turned 21. She had of course told me a couple of months before it became common knowledge that she was going to cast her lot and try for the brass ring. She offered to take me with her. She told me that she loved me, but it was just something the she had to try. I thought about it for a couple of days, and then told her emphatically that I just couldn’t leave my Moms. I begged her to stay and told her that it would be heart wrenching to see her go. When she reiterated that she must go and try to hit it big she was crying and told me in no uncertain terms that it would really be hard without me. I reminded her that I had already been through a move and couldn’t take the emotional crash of leaving the women who had cared for me enough to raise me as their daughter.
Like all of Juanita’s parties, the first half was pretty sedate and attended by the country club set. But the second half was pretty wild. At about midnite Barbara got up on stage and said that she had an announcement to make. She went into a speech about the people that she really loved, the ones who had been there for her. She asked Juanita to come up on stage and told the story of Juanita had found her on the streets of New Orleans and brought her to St Louis. “Juanita rescued me as she has so many other kids, and gave me the opportunity to be somebody.” Juanita had taught her how to be glamorous, how to move like a lady, how to be a ‘persona’.
Then, much to my surprise, Barbara called me up on stage. What also surprised me was the amount of applause I got from the crowd when I was ascending the stairs at the side of the stage. Barbara when on to tell the crowd that I was her soulmate, and that she cared for me more than anyone else in the world. When she kissed me deeply, the crowd made an audible “Aww, isn’t that sweet” kind of noise. The three of us hugged, and then Barbara said into the microphone “Let’s get this party goin’!” For the rest of the night, we all had fun, but it was especially bittersweet for me as I knew that Barbara would be leaving in a week or two.
Barbara had hired a manager who main field of expertise was that of publicist. She told Juanita that someone would be coming to see her Monday afternoon. I was glad that Monday was my day off. Juanita was really pissed. She had made Barbara. She had loved her and done everything she could for her. Now she wasn’t only leaving, but it was the way that she used a messenger to tell her that made her see red. The publicist was lucky to get out of the club alive, Juanita literally had him thrown out…on his ear. When Barbara showed up for work that evening as if nothing had happened, Juanita could have killed her. Barbara tried to explain that she did really appreciate all that Juanita had done for her, but when she spoke the phrase “But business is business honey” that Juanita came unglued. She grabbed Barbara by the hair and dragged her to the front door, she didn’t bother opening the door first though, she just opened it with Barbara’s head. When she got back to her apartment Barbara had two black eyes and a big contusion on her forehead. She called me right away, and I went over there and put an ice bag on her bruises right away. I called Dr Steph and she told me not to worry unless she had blurred vision or woke up vomiting that night. She said ice was the right thing to do and told me to stay with her and call again if I had any more questions.
Barbara asked me if I wanted any of her things as the movers were coming the next morning. I said I should take something to remember her by, and selected her pair of nightstands. She asked if I would take her to the airport tomorrow before I went to work, and I just began to cry uncontrollably. I was mad at Juanita because she had hurt my lover, I was mad at Barbara for leaving, I was mad at Barbara for making Juanita mad, and I was of course sad all around. We didn’t even get to make love that ‘one last time’ because Barbara’s head was pounding from the beating that Juanita had given her. I did indeed take her to Lambert Field the next day at four even though her flight didn’t depart until eight. She said she would call when she got a phone, and we vowed to make it a point to get together in the future after she had ‘made it’.

Thanks

2009-09-25T11:10:00.002-06:00

Thanks for your comments as they keep me going.
I found this pic and thought you might like it.
I am currently writing chapter fifty-one and have
decided that I might possibly be able to publish this
reworked version of my diary as a novel. Keep posting
your comments!

Chapter Twenty Five

2009-09-25T11:05:00.001-06:00

Juanita was right, her talk woke me up a little, and I did slow down, but I didn’t stop. As it turned out, she was really right about me being tired too. I got pretty run down and was starting to get dark circles under my eyes. I was living on coffee and cigarettes mostly just to stay awake. I didn’t look like a ‘fresh face kid’ anymore. My immune system was getting run into the ground from not sleeping enough and not eating right. I thought I could go on like this forever, but it wasn’t to be. I started getting sick all the time. If there was a cold or the flu going around, I got it. Then I got strep and didn’t know it. I felt more and more crummy as the weeks went by, until one night when I collapsed. When I look back on it now, it was really no surprise. Who would have thought you could get sick from having strangers cum in your mouth three nights a week for a year…DUH!!!! What a dumbass I was.
I was really sick. Dr Steph put me in the hospital for a week. I had a high fever and she wanted to give me intravenous antibiotics until the infection abated. My Moms came to see me every night after they had closed the shop. Dr Steph of course gave me a lecture every day about taking better care of myself. She told me that I couldn’t work for at least another week and was happy to call Juanita for me. I didn’t realize how weak I had gotten until I was released and Susan was driving me home. I was so exhausted that by the time I got to the top of the stairs all I could do was flop into bed. I lived on chicken soup, saltine crackers, and ginger ale for the next week. Barbara came to visit me at home every day before she went to work. It ended up being a month of work that I had missed before I got strong enough that I could get back to working both my jobs. Hospital bills weren’t so ridiculously exorbitant in those days, and I paid the bill. That coupled with the work that I had missed cost me a lot. Not to mention the worry I had caused all of those who cared about me.
When I finally went back to work at the club, I only worked five nights a week I was being more careful about drinking more water, taking my vitamins, and eating regular meals. If I wasn’t working, I was sleeping, which helped me regain my strength. I began being a lot more selective about who I took into Barbara’s dressing room, and told most of those asking that I was on my period. I used condoms a lot more too. Juanita and I had an agreement that if she specifically made it a point to introduce me to a gentleman, she would consider it a favor if I would give him a “date’. She and Barbara had been operating under this agreement for quite some time and it really seemed to be working out for them both. Those gentlemen that Juanita introduced us to were worth their weight in gold. I didn’t have to do five guys a week and was making about the same amount of money, plus the fact that by and large they were all pretty classy guys (even if they all weren’t the best looking). I never went back to working six nights a week, and it really didn’t make all that much difference in how much money I was putting in the sock. Juanita introduced me to an investment advisor and he was able to invest my money so it would work for me. He ‘dated’ me a few times, but for the most part our relationship has been on a professional level. His name is Jerry and he has been a dear friend and continues to make sound investments for me to this day.
One afternoon Officer Jackson came by the shop when Susan and Patricia both happened to be out…again. I winked at him and said “Shall I lock up the shop?” as the time before he said, “That would be very nice of you Peggy.” This time, I wasn’t going to just give him just a hand job, I took him into the back of the shop and told him to wait about 5 minutes. I went up the stairs and went into the bathroom and hurriedly performed the preparation technique that Barbara had taught me. When I returned he was patiently waiting. I took him into the tiny bathroom that we had downstairs and dropped to my knees. I was really trying to get all of his huge cock down my throat, I never really minded choking a little bit, as a matter of fact, I’ve always kinda liked it. I spit on his cock and called him Daddy while I was stroking him , and he really liked that. His cock had gotten really hard, and I stood up, turned around, and bent over the toilet. I think he would have been happy to just get a blowjob, but I wanted to be certain that he was going to watch the shop for years to come. I guided his cock inside of me and holy crap! Even after getting fucked by all those johns, I still had a difficult time. For about the first fifteen strokes, even though he was being gentle, it hurt…a lot! But then I started to dilate and I wanted him to be happy. He was such a nice man, and such a dear friend to us, that made it all the easier. “Oh yes, fuck me Daddy!” was about all I had to say to make him lose it. He grabbed my hips and was thrusting into me with all his strength. Oh my gosh, he shot so much cum into me that I thought it was going to start coming out of my mouth. I had a towel ready but didn’t really need it as the toilet was right there in front of me. I turned around and sat down on the toilet, and he knelt down on the floor facing me. He was spent, but out of breath he said “Oh sweetie, I have been needing that for YEARS!” He hugged and kissed me before he cleaned himself up and left the bathroom to wait for me in the shop. While he was waiting outside, I squirted about two cups of his sticky white cum into the toilet. I hadn’t remembered to grab a tampon before I went back downstairs because I was in a rush to “take care of him” before either Susan or Patricia came back. I jammed a bunch of toilet paper into the crotch of my panties, washed my hands and sure enough when I came out of the bathroom, Susan was just coming in the front door. Stanley was sitting there with a “I don’t know nuthin’ and I can prove it” look on his face. “Why was the front door locked Peggy?” Susan wanted to know. All I could think of to say was “I gotta go upstairs for a minute.” I went up the stairs as fast as I could in light of the fact that I’d just been fucked by a baseball bat. After I had squirted more of Stanley’s cum into the upstairs toilet, I inserted a tampon to keep the rest from running down my leg for the rest of the day. I swear, my poops were covered in cum for the next three days.
When I went back downstairs, Stanley was gone. Susan put her arm around my shoulder and told me that she knew what Stanley and I had been doing and why. She also said that it would be our secret, that she would never tell Patricia, and that above all she appreciated my thoughtfulness. She added that it must never happen again…period. What really surprised me was when she wanted me to tell her the ‘dirty details’!

Chapter Twenty Four

2009-09-13T09:20:00.001-06:00

Barbara was working nights, and obviously if we were going to spend any time together it would have to be during the day when the business was open. This began to be a point of contention between me and my moms. They really needed my help to keep our little shop profitable. But my cravings for time with my new love seemed more immediate.
I finally convinced Barbara to come over to our place for dinner. The evening went well, except for the undercurrent vibes that Patricia was sending toward Barbara. I thought it was tangible, her piercing eyes could really be intimidating when she was upset about something. Susan decided that she liked Barbara though, so that helped. It took Patricia about a year to get over the fact that somebody “had taken her baby girl away from home.” I didn’t really move out, but I was spending a lot of time over at Barbara’s apartment.
Good fortune came my way again very shortly. An opportunity presented itself that would allow me to spend time with Barbara and still be able to work at the shop. Juanita needed a cigarette girl at the club, and Barbara suggested me. Juanita thought I would be perfect as she had remembered me from her birthday party. My moms weren’t very enamored with the idea at first, but later Susan really thought I was coming into my own in that I was ‘making some contacts’ that might come in handy in the future. I was enjoying my life immensely then, even though I wasn’t getting near enough sleep. My average day went something like this: I would get up at Barbara’s in the morning at about eight, I would drive to the shop and help Patricia with deliveries and all the other work that needed to be done…eating breakfast and lunch on the go, usually a bite at a time. Then I would look at the clock at 4 PM and think Jesus where did the day go and have to rush back over to Barbara’s so I could get ready for my ‘night job’. Barbara and I would hurriedly get all dolled up for the evening and rush over to club at about 6. After the club closed at 2 AM we’d go out and get something to eat and then of course Barbara would want to have sex when we got back to her apartment. The next morning at eight, the alarm would go off, I would kiss Barbara goodbye and do it all over again. Suffice to say I really looked forward to Sundays.
My job as a ‘cigarette girl’ really involved a lot more that just wearing a skimpy little outfit and meandering occasionally through the tables to sell cigarettes. Juanita made it clear that I was supposed to flirt with the customers and keep them happy. That usually involved letting them touch me in ways that would be termed ‘inappropriate’ today…and sometimes a lot more. Barbara was really a big help to me, because I could always go to her dressing room and ask her what to do if a situation arose that I was unsure about. I became apparent early on that I would have to do something about concealing ‘my little bulge’. My ‘uniform’ consisted of black fishnet pantyhose, black 4 inch heels, and a tiny little red velour dress with white detachable accents. I was supposed to wear a crinoline ‘fluffer’ that made the hemline flair out so that if I bent over even a little anyone could definitely see my panties. I usually wore a black ‘panty shaper’ that helped hold up the fishnets and kept everything packed pretty tightly. I had such difficulty finding them at the stores, that I finally bought a “Stretch & Sew “pattern and just started making them myself. If anyone tried to pinch my butt when I was wearing one of those panty shapers it was like trying to pinch a refrigerator door…hard and flat. Customers were almost constantly touching me, and I really didn’t mind too much unless they were particularly slimy or got carried away…and the ‘touching’ progressed to pawing or groping.
Onstage was more a less a burlesque show with a comedian, a magician or some kind of novelty act, Barbara lip-syncing to a sexy song or doing a not very revealing strip-tease (she never really showed anything, the emphasis was on the ‘tease’ and not the ‘strip’), and the headline act which was usually a singer. The whole idea was to get the men in the audience riled up so that they would spend lots of money, but occasionally they had a little too much to drink and forgot to conduct themselves as gentlemen. There weren’t any bouncers as such, but Juanita always saw to it that a couple of burley waiters were working every night in case somebody needed to be thrown out the front door. I wasn’t being paid very much, only 85 cents an hour, but the tips on the average night more than made up for it. I was bringing home a LOT of money, usually 80 or 90 dollars a night. That might not seem like much now, but you have to remember that a new car was $2000 and gasoline was thirty cents a gallon.
Which brings us to really the only part of my story that I’m not proud of. When I started this blog, I resolved to tell ‘the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth’, so that’s what I’m going to do.
Everything would have been okay if I hadn’t gotten greedy. The tip money that I was accruing was just piling up in a savings account. I hadn’t made any major purchases, so that after only three months of working at the club I had saved up a thousand dollars, a very respectable amount in those days. But for some reason, I just wasn’t happy with that, I got some perverse pleasure in watching the money just pile up. Maybe it was from all those years of living from week to week striving to just get by that caused it all, but that would be an excuse.
In the first few weeks of my employment at the club, every now and then a customer would whisper something in my ear to the effect of “Hey Baby, isn’t there someplace we can go for a while to be alone…I’ll make it worth your while.” When I asked Juanita about it, her reply was “If you did anything like that, I could lose my license…so if you do, just be sure that he’s not a cop! And by the way, be careful honey, don’t get yourself into a situation where you could get hurt.” When I had taken the job in the first place it was not my intent to ‘turn tricks’ out of the joint. I really just thought it would give Barbara and I more of an opportunity to spend time together, along with a chance to make a little cash. But when the opportunity presented itself to make a LOT of money, I just couldn’t resist. It started when a really attractive businessman from out of town hit me up. I mean this guy was classically handsome. He was like movie star good looking. I told him to meet me by the men’s room at the back of the club. I ditched my cigarette tray and grabbed him by the hand and we snuck around the outside of the club to the stage entrance. I knocked on Barbara’s dressing room door and she was only too happy to get lost for a few minutes. To make a long story short, I gave him a hand job and he paid me a hundred dollars for five minutes of my time.
It was the easiest money I had ever made, and I was hooked. In the beginning, I only did it with the guys that I thought were attractive, and then only a handjob or a blowjob at the most. Initially I only did it once or twice a week. After a few weeks of watching the money pile up, I was even doing it with guys that weren’t good looking at all, but they appeared to be clean at least. Then one night a pretty attractive guy said he really wasn’t going to be happy with a blowjob and offered me a hundred and fifty to fuck. I thought about it for about ten seconds and then decided to let him fuck me. I told him he would have to wait a half hour “until my break” and went into the ladies room to get my pussy ready. I lubed it up and used two fingers to get it opened up enough to easily accept ‘an invasion’. I went back out on the floor and told him to meet me in the alley behind the club as I usually did. We borrowed Barbara’s dressing room as usual, and I bent over her vanity and pulled the back of my panty girdle down. I guided his cock in and he began pumping me like I was some sort of machine. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t feel good either. It was just very mechanical. He was grunting like a pig and when I looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t stand the image and had to look away. I told him to be quiet, and at least he quit making those awful noises. When he came, it was a literal flood. I felt him spurting and spurting in there for the longest time. He pulled out of me before I could get a towel or something under my crotch and a whole bunch of his cum mixed with the lube and my ass juice got all over the back of my pantygirdle, my legs, and the floor. I was thinking “No wonder you grunt like a pig, you are a total animal.” But I didn’t say it out loud. He had already given me the one-fifty, and he said “Oh baby, that was just what I needed”, and gave me another twenty for a tip. He left me to clean up the mess. It was lucky I had a spare pantygirdle in my locker, but I had to rinse the cum out of the fishnets thinking that they would at least dry quickly while I was wearing them. I had to borrow a tampon from one of the other girls because the cum just kept running out of me.
As I said earlier initially it was only once or twice a week and I was considering it a bonus. Then after a few months, I started thinking that the night was a bust if I didn’t turn at least one trick. Barbara began to tell me that I should be more careful and take it easy, but the lust for money kept me going…taking chances. I was usually pretty careful if Juanita was in the club. I didn’t want to disappoint her as she had gone out of her way for me. But she eventually got wind of what I was doing and gave me a lecture “First of all honey, we never had this conversation, I don’t know anything about what you are doing with the customers backstage. But…I want you to be more careful and take it easy. It’s a pretty fine line between you drawing the customers into the club and getting closed down by the police. What even more important is your health, go easy. You look tired, don’t burn yourself out doing too much.”

Chapter Twenty Three

2009-09-04T09:34:00.001-06:00

The drive home was full of thoughts of my birthmother’s wrath and disappointment. I just knew she was going to be livid. My memories were full of her screaming at me and my sisters for supposed transgressions. She wasn’t ever abusive, but she was about as strict as parents got in those days without actually beating her children. She did spank us when it was indicated, and a few times when it wasn’t. But she didn’t derive any sick pleasure from it, she was only doing what she thought best in the hopes that she didn’t lose ‘control’. I’m sure she felt outnumbered in that there were six of us and only one of her. When I parked the van, I was shaking. I opened the front door to the shop and began climbing the stairs and was surprised that I couldn’t hear the shouting.
When I stepped through the door at the top of the stairs, and first made eye contact with the woman who had brought me into this world, I couldn’t believe my eyes. She couldn’t believe hers either. In the six years since I had seen her she had aged considerably. When I left she had dark hair, dancing eyes and a straight backbone, now all that was gone. Her hair had turned completely gray, her back was bent from hard work, all that remained was the fire in her eyes. That woman had an inner strength evident in her eyes that intimidated grown men twice her size.
She couldn’t resist the instinct to come to me and give me a hug. Then she pushed me away and pointed a boney finger at my nose and said “Why didn’t you call me? I have been worried sick, you little shit!” I couldn’t think of anything specific to say so I just stood there stammering “Uh, I, uh….” She went on with her scolding “Don’t give me that crap, any kid knows that they should call their Mother, especially when they have been away for years and the mother in question keeps calling with no reply…You inconsiderate little shit, I should beat you…and if you weren’t so grown up, I would.” The only thing I could think to say in my defense was “We’ll, I did write you regularly.” All that did was send her into a tirade. “Six lines, twice a year is NOT regularly.” While she continued yelling at me I remember thinking that this was really going pretty well. I glanced over at Patricia and I could really tell by her expression that we would get through this without too much of a scrape. After about 15 more minutes of lecture, she must have grown tired and sat down. I was still standing when she said to Patricia and I “Why don’t you two sit down, isn’t this your kitchen?” Her voice had lessened to a more conversational tone. She had calmed down, at least enough that Patricia and I knew that she would be reasonable. “Patricia tells me that you are really a wonderful kid. She has told me how hard you have worked to help out around here and that thanks to you the business has been successful. She also says that you have dealt really well emotionally with what the doctors found. I think that I would expect no less from one of my smartest children.”
Probably the biggest compliment she paid me was when she told me that she thought I looked a lot like my sister Caitlin, and that I would really love my little sister Aggie who had grown up since I had last seen her. Aggie was seven years old when I left and was 13 then. We did a lot of catching up, drank a few beers and stayed up way too late talking. Patricia finally stood up and said “I’ll see you both in the morning.” That’s when she looked at my birthmom and said “You can have Peggy’s bed, I changed the sheets,” then looking at me added “Come to bed any time honey, you won’t wake me.” Before I went to bed, I changed into my nightgown in the bathroom. It was kind of low cut and showed off my cleavage. When I came out of the bathroom, my birthmother said “Wait a minute, turn around for a second.” Unconsciously I did one of those fashion model turns. “Oh my Gawd,” she said “you really are built like a woman.” The only thing I could say was “Did you think that we made this whole thing up? I saw fifty doctors before one of them finally told me “You are who you are.” I was staring at her for a reaction. Her eyes were welling up with tears. I said “Goodnight.”
It was true that Patricia didn’t wake up when I went to bed late that night. She did snuggle up to me in the middle of the night though, I was facing away from her and she spooned real close and threw her arm over my shoulder. I whispered “I’m not Susan.” She then said “I know silly, I just needed to be close and thought you’d need it too.” We happily drifted back to sleep until morning.
The rest of her stay went well, awkward, but as well as could be expected under the circumstances. I drove her to the train station and on the way we sort of reconciled our relationship. I got up the guts to tell her that sending me off like she did gave me more of a complex than my being born physically different, and that she shouldn’t hold herself blameless if our relationship was strained. I told her that “I’m an adult now and I know that you didn’t have a lot of options, but you have to know how that made me feel.” I let that sink in and then added that it really did work out for the best, because Patricia has just been wonderful… and I’ve been there for her when she needed me too.
I parked the van and carried her suitcase to the platform for her. We were standing there kind of awkwardly. Neither of us wanted to say “Goodbye, I love you”, but both of us desperately wanting to hear the other say it. She did kiss me on the check and say “Take care.” before she got on the train. She turned and looked at me from the top of the stairs, smiled and waved. That was the last time I saw her.

Chapter Twenty Two

2009-08-26T22:32:00.000-06:00

When we awoke the following afternoon at about 4, Barbara lazily opened one eye and smiled at me. “Good morning lover.” She cooed. Her apparent tranquil state changed immediately to alarm when she glanced at the clock. “Oh my God, how did it get to be so late? I have got to be to work at five.” We hopped up and she showered first. I told her to relax, I would take her to work if that would save her any time. She fixed breakfast while I was in the shower, and after we had eaten and dressed, I had her at the front door of the club where she worked in plenty of time. She leaned across to my side of the van and kissed me tenderly. “I’m off tomorrow, call me at about 3.”
When I got home, my mom was sitting at the kitchen table crying. I thought she was worried about my whereabouts and now characteristically she would read me the riot act. When I asked her what was the matter, she looked up at me and said “Honey, your grandma died last night.” I said I was sorry that I hadn’t been home when she got the bad news. Then Mom asked me a question that I hadn’t even pondered “Are you going to the funeral with me?”
That question brought a flood of emotions to us both. My knees buckled and I barely made to a chair. I was so torn. I didn’t want Patricia to have to make the trip by herself in her time of grief. Her mother had died and there was obviously emotional baggage to help her with. My Birthmother would of course be livid if I didn’t come as well. I had to pay my respects as anyone in a large closeknit family should. But there were other issues too. There was no way I could pass as a male. I would definitely look like a woman in a man’s suit. I was filling out a B-cup by that time, and even my hips would be a dead giveaway. So I proffered “It would just do more harm than good if I showed up. Imagine what everyone would be thinking. I think the whole affair would be more disrupted by my presence than my absence.” So it was decided that for everyone’s sake, the best thing to do was for me to stay home. I helped her pack and took her to the train station the next morning.
In the days following the party, it became apparent to both Barbara and I that we were in love. We just couldn’t stand to be away from each other for more than a few hours. When we were together we couldn’t keep our hands off each other for more than a few minutes. I was sure that she was definitely the one for me. While Patricia was away at the funeral, I was displaying a behavior uncharacteristic until then. I was being irresponsible. I was spending every night at Barbara’s and wasn’t coming home until the afternoon which put most of the load on poor Susan. Not only was Patricia gone, but I was absent too, leaving her to run the business by herself. She was getting more than a little bit miffed until I made it a point to bring Barbara home to meet her. Parents by and large have a little bit better tolerance of their kids being out all night if they have met the cohorts that they are spending their time with. When she had been gone about a week, Patricia called and really dropped a bomb on me. She would be home in two days, and my Birthmother was coming with her! After we decided how to handle it, she talked to Susan for a few minutes outlining the plan.
Susan and I were to put a sign in the shop window that the shop would be closed for the rest of the week. We were also supposed to ‘make ourselves scarce’ for a while. We made an appointment for Patricia and my birthmother to visit Dr Steph so my medical situation could be explained before the big shock of seeing her daughter for the first time. We hoped it would soften the blow, but were really unsure how she was going to take it. My birthmom was an extraordinarily strong willed woman who was outgoing, opinionated, and stern. She was a devout Catholic as well which of course would color her view of anything that had to do with sex.
Aunt Patricia, Susan, and I had been going to church occasionally as well, but we obviously had some views of sexuality that vastly differed from those of the Catholic Church. We always went to mass together and never missed Christmas or Easter. All three of us believed in God and Jesus Christ, and thanked Him for the good fortune that had brought our little family together. We were also thankful to God for the prosperity that we’d had in the business. We prayed before meals and before we went to sleep at night and acknowledged that we were blessed if for no other reason that we had each other. I have always liked to say that I was a ‘smorgasbord Catholic’. I just slid my tray down the line and took only those parts of the religion that I really wanted…Confession? No thanks, I don’t need a ‘middle man’ to make my peace with the Lord.
Dr Steph was kind enough to make the appointment on such short notice. We left Patricia a note on the kitchen table with phone numbers where we could be reached, and the date and time of the appointment with Dr Steph. Susan and I packed up enough clothes and toiletries for a couple of nights each set off to our respective ‘hostels’. I went to stay with Barbara and Susan went to stay with an old acquaintance to whom she owed a favor. (I think it was the county clerk who had filed the paperwork for my birth certificate years before.)
Evidently the meeting with Dr Steph went as well as it possibly could have, but my Birthmother was really upset. She was mostly mad at Patricia for keeping something as important as a medical problem a secret. Evidently she had been worrying a lot about me anyway, wondering what had become of me, why I hadn’t called, etc. Patricia said that she yelled at her in the taxi all the way home from the doctor’s office. Then she yelled at her all the way up the stairs, and then yelled at her in the kitchen until her voice got hoarse. Patricia gave her beer then which didn’t calm her down, it only caused her to get her voice back so she could yell some more. Patricia told me later that she just let her yell until she lost her voice again and then asked her “Are you finished?” After my birthmom only scowled in response Patricia proceeded to calmly outline what her choices were when she was made aware of my ‘medical condition’. She went on to explain that we were all fortunate in that Dr Steph was here in St Louis and went out of her way to see to it that I had the best care possible. She added that we had decided not to tell her immediately because she certainly had enough on her plate as a widow with her own brood to care and provide for without worrying about me. “We did know that this day would come, and it might as well be now.” Patricia cracked open two more beers for them and then picked up the phone and dialed Barbara’s phone. I was basically sitting by the phone dressed and ready to go. Patricia had picked out what I was to wear, flats, anklets, black coulottes, and a pastel blue top with a bow at the collar. I was nervous and fidgeting because I was really dreading the impending confrontation. I was lighting my fifteenth cigarette when the phone rang. I must have jumped a foot. But Patricia’s voice had a very calming effect on me. “Come on home, kiddo. We’re waiting for ya. See ya in a few minutes…bye honey.”

Chapter Twenty One

2009-08-17T09:36:00.000-06:00

It really shouldn’t have been called a cloakroom, because it was more of a cloakcloset. There was definitely not enough room to lay down. We kissed and caressed. Then I felt something that I had never experienced before. I felt myself getting hard! I mean it wasn’t just a tingle, or a sensation, it was straining against my panties. When I first saw her cock, I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I had to have it, so I dropped to my knees. My lil peepee was starting to hurt, so I lifted up my skirt and pulled my panties aside so it wouldn’t be so constricted. It didn’t take long to make her come. Her body seized in a way that I could tell I was really making her feel good and that excited me even more. I tried to swallow it all, I mean I really wanted to, but it was just too much, too fast. We were both laughing while I choked and coughed. She helped me up to my feet and kissed me full on the mouth, her cum still on my lips. I was still as hard as I had ever been. She hiked up her dress and knelt down before me. When she took me into her mouth it felt so incredible! Oh my goodness, it was like velvet, only smoother. In about two minutes my head started reeling, I felt a tightening sensation that was spreading from the core of my abdomen, then a release came like thousand stars exploding in my head. I heard her moan, “ mmmmmmgh.” I lost my balance and fell into one of the coat racks. She caught me and we hugged and kissed again. Laughing, we cleaned each other’s faces good enough to make it from the cloakroom to ladies room where we could re-do our make-up. Every time we even glanced at each other for the rest of the night we would laugh hysterically as if the joke was on everybody at the party besides us. We danced together a couple of times, and every now and then Katie would sit at our table for a few minutes. She was genuinely happy that she had introduced us and that we were hitting it off so well.
At about three AM the party finally started to wind down a little. The only people that were left seemed to me to be pretty hard core, so I asked Barbara if she had a ride home. “Of course I do silly, you’re gonna take me home!” We had to take Katie home first, which was just as well because my overnight bag was at her house as I had intended to stay there. After kissing Katie goodnight and making sure that she had Barbara’s phone number (in case my Moms called), we drove to Barbara’s apartment. It was in one of those chic buildings with uniformed security guard in the lobby. We took the elevator up to her floor and when she opened the door I was flabbergasted at how nice the place was. She had really nice furniture and the rooms were all decorated tastefully.
After we had ripped our clothes off, she licked, sucked, and nibbled on my breasts which got me going again. She told me to lay on my side on the bed, then she laid down behind me. I rolled over to face her and confessed to her that I was a virgin. “That’s okay honey, there’s nobody better to teach you than me. It’ll hurt a little at first, but trust me, you’ll grow to enjoy it more than anything else.” With that she turned me back around so I was facing away from her. She went into the nightstand and got a jar of lube, and began to put some on my ‘pussy’. After a minute of rubbing circles around it, she asked me if it felt good. “Yeah, a little.” I answered. She began to push a bit and noticed that I didn’t draw away from the pressure, so she pushed a little more. It just seemed natural to me that I should push back. Her finger slid inside me. For a second I was reminded of all the times that the doctors had done just exactly this and I whimpered out loud. “Is it okay honey?” I said “Yes, go ahead.” with firm conviction. Probably like any girl on her first time, I had some real trepidation, but I wanted very much to become more than a girl, I wanted to be a woman. It did start to feel good though. It didn’t hurt that she began to fondle my breasts with her other hand…that has always made me horny. I began to really enjoy the way it felt and started moaning and pushing back against her finger so she would penetrate me more deeply. She was telling me how pretty I was, she whispered in my ear all the sweet things I needed to hear. She told me to relax and then put a second finger inside me and Oh My Goodness! She whispered that it would only hurt for a second. It didn’t hurt bad, but it was pretty darn uncomfortable. She told me to relax again and started moving her fingers in and out of me. She continued to play with my nipples with her other hand and that felt so good that I was soon moving my little butt against her hand. I was really starting to enjoy the two fingers when she took them out. She quickly lubed up her hardness and pushed it against my ’pussy’. After the two fingers, her cock slid in easily, and I must say that it really started to feel good almost immediately. I began to return her thrusts rather than recoiling from them. She whispered to me “Ooh Baby, you feel soo good!” She took her hands from my titties and grabbed my hips and began to pump me for all she was worth. I began to pull and tweak my own nipples, the combination of the sensations was driving me crazy. I was moaning “Oh please, oh yeah, fuck me, please fuck me!” A wave of wanton pleasure swept over me, what I didn’t know was that it was about to get better. She pulled out of me and rolled me on my back, she got between my legs and re-entered me. With the first thrust, my orgasm began. The change in angle had caused her to start hitting ‘that one spot’ that just sent me over the edge. With every thrust the orgasm intensified until at last I peaked in a crescendo of pleasure. Barbara pulled out of me, her cock still hard and throbbing. She laid on the bed next to me for a minute, catching her breath. I said “That was even better than I had imagined!” Barbara could only reply by holding up her index finger as if to say “Wait a minute.”
After resting for about two minutes she roused herself and climbed back on top of me. She kissed me again and told me how pretty I was. She lifted my knees again and entered me once again. Oh my, it felt even better this time than it did before! She began thrusting, but it wasn’t long before she said “Oh my god, I’m gonna cum!” It was the most marvelous feeling when I felt her gush inside of me. I felt hot, wet, and sweet all at the same time. Exhausted, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Chapter Twenty

2009-08-05T10:06:00.001-06:00

The rest of the evening at Katie’s was occupied by us telling each other our life stories. It wasn’t a “sleepover” after all, because we never went to sleep. We talked all night. Her curiosity about my “anatomy” (and mine about hers) was satisfied in that we had a little “show and tell” session intermixed with the story of how I had come to know that I was physically different. We did touch each other, but it wasn’t really sexual at all (at least not that night), it was more that we were curious about each other’s bodies. After breakfast I left her house and even though we hadn’t slept, I felt energetic because she had infused me with a feeling of acceptance. Up to this point I had a tremendous fear about anyone finding out about what I considered to be my physical peculiarities.
Katie and I continued to be best friends. It never really developed into a loving, sexual relationship, but we have been best friends ever since we met. A short time after the sleepover, she invited me to a party at a friend’s house. She told me that it was going to be pretty wild and that we would have a lot of fun. Katie also made plans for us to go shopping before the party and get ready at her house before we left.
I met Katie downtown and we went on an absolute spending spree. She insisted on spending whatever amount of money it would take to make us both look our absolute best because she thought it especially important for me to make a good first impression on the hostess and her circle of friends. “Don’t think a thing about it, my allowance is big enough to handle one shopping trip for both of us!” We bought our entire outfits (with shoes and accessories) on her Credit card. She almost got upset with me because I kept insisting that she shouldn’t spend so much money, but I had to admit later that the money was really well spent. After about five hours of shopping and getting ready at her house, we looked like the magazine models of the period.
As I was driving us to the party Katie explained that our host was a successful lesbian woman who was throwing herself a birthday bash and had invited everybody who is anybody. Her name was Juanita and she was the grand Diva of the St Louis gay community in the 70’s. She was a business woman who “just knew everyone, and they all owed her at least one favor.” Juanita was a beautiful Brunette who was known for having a lot of influence (as well as a voracious sexual appetite). Juanita could “fix things” if you got into a scrape with the law, but then you would owe her big time and she would use that to help someone else who got into a jam. She owned several bars and nightclubs around town and that was why she was so “connected”. She had to be to keep her clubs open, and also she had met some pretty powerful people who frequented her many establishments.
Juanita had closed one of her establishments for the night so the party could be held there. There were hundreds of people who were all having fun drinking and dancing. We got there at about nine, and Katie and I were pretty much swooped down upon by all the unattached males at the party. We didn’t pay for any of our drinks and were being asked to dance constantly. I was introduced to our host after we had been there for about two hours. She thanked Katie and I for coming to the party, she went on to say that usually the hot lil chicks don’t usually show up early enough to entertain the single men in the first half of the party. The crowd did thin out a bit around 11:30 and we had a chance to sit in one of the booths and rest our feet. We both ordered a coke and began fixing our make-up when Barbra came back to our table and sat with us. “Are you girls having fun?” She asked. When we answered yes, she said well be sure and stick around, because the real fun people haven’t even showed up yet. And by the way, I owe you gals a favor for entertaining my guests, give me your names and numbers for my little black book. I told Juanita that it was truly my pleasure to attend such a great party and that she didn’t have to do anything for me as I’d had so much fun. To which she replied: “Oh honey, the fun’s just getting started. We’re gonna have a ball!” We gave her our names and numbers and she got up from the booth and flitted away to ‘politic’ somebody else. (She was so political in fact that had she run for public office she could have defeated any incumbent.)
It turned out that Juanita wasn’t lying about the party just getting started. The club started filling up again after midnight with a much younger crowd. At the start of the night the music had been soft jazz with a torchy female vocalist, but the music slowly changed, progressively becoming more upbeat. But after midnite it had mutated into the psychedelic rock that was so popular in those days. The nice thing about the music was that it wasn’t so loud that you couldn’t have a conversation without yelling. I hadn’t had any alcohol yet and was kinda thinking that sounded good when Katie grabbed me by the hand and said “Come with me honey, there’s somebody that you have just GOT to meet!” She had such excitement in her voice and her impish and devious personality were boiling over as she literally dragged me from one end of the club to the other.
Katie pushed me into a chair at a table for two and told me not to move, she’d be right back. A waitress came by and I ordered a beer, and lit a cigarette. I looked across the room and Katie was dragging a very attractive young lady toward where I was sitting. The girl looked to be about twenty years old and was dressed to the nines. Wearing an evening gown, she looked like she had just come from a formal dinner following a Broadway opening. At first I thought that Katie was ‘matchmaking’ for someone else, and she would go get the person she wanted me to meet after she had deposited the current package on the intended doorstep. But she did indeed continue coming toward my table and on her arrival said only “Peggy this is Barbara, Barbara, Peggy.” Katie almost ran away from our table, apparently off on some sort of mission, leaving us wondering why it was so important that we meet.
Barbara said “Goodness, she is a dervish isn’t she!” I said “Yes, she’s so full of energy and goodwill, that sometimes she totally wears me out.” We both chuckled a second and I motioned to the empty seat across the table. Barbara sat down and started to remove her gloves and put them in her bag. The waitress returned with my beer and said “Anything for you honey?” Barbara ordered a Rum & Coke. “How long have you known Katie?” she asked and I said that I had only known her for a couple of weeks. “How ‘bout you?” I asked. And with an almost confused look on her face, she said “What about me?” I said “How long have you known Katie?” To my surprise she informed me that she had met Katie about 15 minutes earlier. The waitress returned with Barbara’s drink as the two of us were sizing each other up, wondering why Katie thought it so imperative that we meet. To say that I was ‘quite taken’ with Barbara from the moment I saw her would be an understatement. She was such a beautiful creature that almost everyone who met her was in awe. Her face had an ‘ethnic quality’ to it, she had those high cheekbones and almond shaped eyes, but her skin was almost alabaster. She said that she was a dancer by profession, and that she worked at one of Juanita’s clubs. I told her that I worked at a dry cleaners that my parents owned on the other side of the river. I was of course feeling both righteous and embarrassed by my ‘lot in life’. Here was this obviously high class gal, and I felt like she was looking down her nose at me like I was the literal “Irish Washer Woman.” I was getting ready to gulp the last swallow of my beer and leave her sitting there by her lonesome when Katie returned.
Katie dragged a chair over from another table and plopped down in it. “Whew, I’m gassed. I thought I sit a bit and catch my breath. Did you girls figure it out?” Barbara and I simultaneously blurted “What?” Katie rolled her eyes and said “Did you figure out why I thought you two should meet?” Barbara and I exchanged a glance and I answered “No.”
Katie just beamed. She looked like the Cheshire Cat. She was apparently having a great deal of fun (and I assumed at my expense). I was in the process of getting a little upset with Katie when she gave us a little tiny clue…”I just thought you two could compare notes.” The waitress’ arrival interrupted her and she ordered a coke for herself and another beer for me. We both looked at Barbara and she was staring at me, she snapped out of it for a second and told the waitress that her drink was fine. Katie still had that impish grin on her face, and i was really starting to feel like the joke was on me. I was pretty self-conscious in those days, I was insecure at my core for obvious reasons, and I thought Katie was having fun at my expense. I should have known better because she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. Katie finally let me off the hook by whispering in my ear “Barbara works as a female impersonator at one of Juanita’s clubs.” My mouth dropped open. I was shocked! She was so classy and beautiful, and feminine! Barbara said, “Katie, your friend here had me fooled until you said we should compare notes. But what I can’t believe is that she didn’t spot my act right away.” She turned and looked at me and said “Peggy, you’re a natural! I can usually spot girls like us from a mile away, but I’d never have made you if I wasn’t told.”
The waitress returned with our drinks, and Katie flitted away on another mission to brighten someone else’s evening. “I meant what I said kiddo, you had me fooled…one hundred percent.” To which I replied: “I never would have guessed about you either, you’re so…so glamorous.” She replied “Oh honey, all this either hangs in the closet or washes off, what you have is that natural look.” We did end up comparing notes. She was so interested when I told her all about how I was raised, how I came to be in St Louis, about my hormones, and what the doctors had all said. She told me about her life too. Her father was in the navy. He left her mom before she was born. “My mom was really a beautiful woman, she was part Choctaw Indian, part Spanish, and a little bit of Chinese. She was from Louisiana. My Dad was white, I never knew him. Mom did her best to raise me and my sister the best way she knew how. She worked so hard to feed us that she died when I was sixteen. I always knew I wanted to be a girl, so when mom died, my sister and I started turning tricks so we could eat.” My eyes must have betrayed my emotion because she reached out and touched my hand. “Oh it wasn’t that bad honey, I only got beat up once or twice. But then I met Juanita and she brought me up here…life is good now.”
Obviously there was a connection between us, an empathy resulting from our ‘third sex’ experiences and lives. Barbara was the first ‘woman who was born a boy’ that I had met, but there was more to it than that. A bond was formed between us that night that I can’t explain, but have always thanked God that I was lucky enough to have her in my life. She was so attractive, so sexy, and sophisticated...I couldn’t believe that she found me attractive too!
It started with her hand on my knee under the table, then her hand slid up my thigh to my crotch, and then it progressed in the Cloakroom.

Chapter Nineteen

2009-07-31T12:18:00.000-06:00

When I got home from my lunch with Katie, Patricia told me that my birthmom had called again. This time it was to wish me a happy birthday. I had written her a long letter after the last time she called, and I was wondering why she was getting so insistent about talking to me all of a sudden. Like most teens, I was easily annoyed by an adult’s genuine concern.
My birthmom had not only called to tell me happy birthday, but she and Patricia had a long talk about my grandmother’s failing health. Grandma had slipped on the ice and broken her hip. I didn’t know it at the time, but that’s a life threatening injury to an older person.
I asked my Moms for permission to spend the night at Katie’s house. Patricia said it was okay as long as it was a Saturday Night and all my work was done. She told me it would be okay to take the van and made me promise to be careful and also required me to write Katie’s home number and address down in case they had to call. I called Katie and asked if Saturday night would be okay and she answered with a jubilant “yes”. When I had chance to talk privately to Susan I told her that I was worried about two things: First that I had no really decent underwear or pajamas for a sleepover, and second that I hadn’t told Katie about me being ‘different’. She said that the first problem was easy enough to solve, we would just go out and buy something nice after we closed the shop, as for the second problem, we’d talk about that on the way. Susan told Mom that we had an errand to run and that we’d be home around eight. We left the store at a quarter to five, but it turned out that we should have waited because the traffic was so bad and finding a parking place was a real pain downtown at that time of the day. Sitting in traffic gave us a chance to chat about my concerns though. “I’m worried that when she finds out about me, she won’t like me anymore, she might not even want me as friend.” Susan said that if Katie was really going to be a true friend, then it wouldn’t matter that I was different. I interjected that “She did say that she likes both men and women.” To which she replied “Well honey, I wouldn’t worry too much then, she sounds like she’s a pretty hip kitten. She might even think your ‘extra cool’ because she’s obviously not a conservative conformist. Since she lives with her parents, you should be careful about not freaking them out though.” She parked the car as close as possible to the store and we walked through the snow complaining about how cold it was. When we got in the door to the Famous-Barr department store, I felt better already. I just loved the smell of that place. I think the only reason they had a candy counter was to make the whole store smell good. We settled on a pink bra and panty set because I wanted red (or black) and she wanted white. “Not to be too practical, but if you always buy white, when either the bra or panty wears out you’ll still have a drawer full that matches.” We agreed on a nice nylon robe that was cute, but not too sexy or revealing in case I was to have breakfast with her & her parents. We picked up a pair of cheap white terry cloth slippers for me to wear as well. “You can’t wear your tennis shoes to breakfast with that nice robe.” As long as we were there she bought me some more white underwear because mine were getting a little worn and I was growing out of them again.
I was half dreading Saturday night, and half looking forward to spending some time with Katie. I mulled over the words I would use to break the news and changed a little speech that I had prepared in my head about a hundred times. After we closed the shop I spent an inordinate amount of time getting ready. Mom kept nagging me to get going because I was supposed to be there in time for dinner, but I wanted to look (and smell) my best. I shaved my armpits, and took a bath and put on some deodorant and perfume. I dressed and packed a bag with everything I thought I’d need for the night.
I was a little nervous on the drive to her house, and got even more nervous when I arrived there. I took a deep breath and told myself to calm down before I rang the doorbell. Her parents house was really beautiful, which only served to make me feel more uncertain of myself. When Katie answered the door she had a big smile on her face and said “Come on in Peggy, Thanks for coming, We’re gonna have so much fun!” She slyly winked at me because she knew her parents were listening. She took me into the kitchen and introduced me to her mother who was an attractive woman in her mid forties. She looked very Italian, and had a nice build, but had just a couple of extra pounds that she would no doubt have liked to get rid of. “Dinner will be ready in a minute, why don’t you set the table, and tell your father it’s time to eat?”
Katie’s father was a very good looking man, he was well dressed as he still had on a nice shirt and slacks from his business day. He was about 5’10” and had graying but well groomed hair. They were a very stylish couple. They both seemed very genuinely interested in my life, as Katie had told them some basics about my Moms, the cleaners and such. They didn’t pry a whole lot about the lesbian household thing, her Dad just shrugged and said “If they care for you, then I guess that’s all that matters.” After dinner we helped clear the table, and I was getting ready to help with the dishes when her mom said “You girls go on upstairs and have fun.” I followed Katie into the living room where her Dad was smoking a pipe and watching the news on TV. “G’night Daddy” She said as she kissed him on the cheek. He didn’t even take his eyes off the Television when he said “See you in the morning.”
The dinner and meeting her parents had distracted from my worrying about how Katie was going to react to my confession. When we got to her room, I saw that Katie had everything that a girl could possibly want, she even had her very own stereo. She closed the door and put on a record, “Venus” by a band called Shocking Blue. She told me to pick out the next record to play as Venus was only a ’45 and would be over in about five minutes. As I was perusing her collection, which mostly pop, my hands were shaking. I picked out an album and must have had a worried look because she said “What’s the matter?” I started by saying “I’ve got something that I have to tell you. It’s a secret about me that nobody knows except for my Moms.” She replied by saying “Whatever it is won’t make any difference to me Peggy. We’re friends. And I just love secrets! That’s what sleepovers are for!” I told her that she was really my only friend besides my parents and that I’d never had any friends to invite me over to their house, let alone to spend the night. After changing the record she put her hand on my shoulder and sat me on the bed. “Now tell me this great big ol’ secret” She said with a smile in her eyes and a mischievous look.
“First of all, my Mom is really my Aunt, she took me in after my Dad died a few years ago. My real Mom is in another State…she doesn’t even know what I’m about to tell you. I was born different, I’m not like other girls.” She interrupted me saying “Of course I know that, you let me kiss you and you liked it…A LOT!” I continued “No, I’m not even like other bisexual or lesbian girls. I mean I’m physically different. I have always known that I was a girl, but my body is kind of ‘in the middle’.” She interrupted me again by saying “What do you mean ‘in the middle’?” I said “It’s difficult to explain, a bunch of doctors have examined me for hours on end, the best way to say it is that my body chemistry is one hundred percent female, but all my parts aren’t.” She had a huge look of surprise, her mouth dropped open. I let that sink in and then said “I’m different down there” and pointed to my lap. She gasped and said “Wow, I never would have guessed. You are definitely a girl, there’s no doubt about that…do you mean to tell me that you don’t have a…pussy?” I replied “That’s exactly what I mean.” Her look changed from shock to curiosity, but she immediately saw that I was sooo embarrassed. “If you think this will affect our friendship at all, don’t worry. We’re girlfriends, and are gonna be girlfriends for a long long time. I don’t know what it was that made me kiss you like that at the bar last week. I’ve never attacked a girl like that before, but I’m glad I did.” I exhaled with an enormous amount of relief. She threw her arms around me and I said “That’s such a relief, I was so worried that you’d freak out, but I knew I had to tell you because we’ve shared so much.” She turned back into her puckish lil imp personality that I love so much. “Tell me more! I’ve got so many questions!”

Chapter Eighteen

2009-07-26T19:59:00.000-06:00

My first real hangover followed the next day. I heard the doorbell ringing, and it was so painful. I glanced at the clock and it was a quarter to nine! Usually by this time we were all up, dressed, had breakfast, and opened the shop. I sat up in a hurry and my head felt like a mushy water balloon. My tongue felt (and tasted) like the Russian army had traipsed over it in their stocking feet. I put on my robe and slippers to go down and answer the door. I was just a customer dropping off their laundry. I made apologies for not answering the door sooner by explaining that my birthday party had run a little late last night. Even though my head was pounding, I locked the door again and ran upstairs to start getting ready for the day. I put the coffee on, washed up, and dressed. I made myself a bowl of cereal and some toast and took it downstairs so I could eat while opening up the store. I had a couple more customers come in by the time I had a chance to take some aspirin with the coffee I had brewed. I knew my breath must just be awful, but I put off brushing my teeth until I was sure it wouldn’t make me puke. That day dragged on and on…I swore I would never poison myself to that degree again. Susan got up at about noon, and made Patricia bacon and eggs (which she served to her in bed). When Patricia finally got out of bed at about 2 pm, all either one of them was able to do for the rest of the day was giggle about how fun we’d had and moan about how bad their headaches were. Susan did whine a little bit more than usual about Patricia’s smoking. Susan never smoked, and hated the smell (especially in the morning), but she did love Patricia in spite of the nasty habit. I was quite please when Katie called that evening and we made plans to meet at the downtown Woolworth’s lunch counter later in the week.

Officer Jackson’s wife had apparently not changed her tune as far as his amorous intentions were concerned. He never said what it was that caused her to turn a cold shoulder to his manly needs, but he made it very obvious that he was in dire need of some release. Up until all this had started, he and I would play verbal games and toss around sexually suggestive double entendre’ mostly in the name of having some fun. Susan admonished me to be careful as far as he was concerned, because the man might start to take my sense of humor the wrong way. She had secretly told me that he had gotten more even serious in his advances toward her, and that she didn’t want to lose his friendship and protection solely because she didn’t want his hands all over her. I decided that I would help her (and him) with this problem. I was kinda naïve in that I didn’t think there would be any serious ramifications to giving him a handjob or two. Besides, I was becoming really curious about such things and thought it would be a thrill to see and touch a real man’s penis. After all, on the night of the dance Dave had cum in his pants, I didn’t even get to see his dick, let alone touch it.
The day after the huge hangover Stanley Jackson dropped by as usual at about 3 pm and I happened to be the only one in the store as Susan and Patricia were both out for one reason or another. This didn’t happen often, as usually there were at least two of us downstairs whenever the store was open. I had already made up my mind about how this was going to happen, and I have to hand it to Stanley, he was the perfect gentleman. He didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to. I started acting real flirty, and it was immediately apparent that he was receptive. I went around to the other side of the counter and put my hand on his leg and asked him if I should close the shop for a few minutes. “I think that would be very nice of you Peggy” He answered.
After I had put up the ‘back in ten minutes’ sign and locked the door, I took his hand a led him through the partition to the back of the store. I put my left arm around the small of his back and began to fondle his crotch through his pants with my right hand. I whispered “take it out” softly in his ear, making sure my hot breath tickled his neck a little. When he took it out I was mesmerized by the sight of it. It was about ten inches long, and hard as a bedpost. I was amazed at how soft and smooth it felt. I really enjoyed caressing it with my little hand. I could just touch my thumb to my middle finger when I had my hand wrapped around it. I was stroking slowly and asked him “Does that feel good?” He only answered with an “Mmmm, yes.” I knew the cum would be squirting out soon as his body was really tightening up, so I guided him over to the laundry tubs against the back wall. He grabbed my right hand and brought it up to his mouth, and I remember wondering what is he doing? Did he want me to stop? Was I doing it wrong? But he spit a huge gob in my hand and guided it back to his cock. When my hand went back to stroking him, I understood what the spit was for. It was gliding back and forth and felt even better. I was really enjoying this, knowing what it was like for a girl to do a real man a ‘favor’! After a minute or so he said “Oh Fuck, OH FUCK!” and his body jerked like three times. I was thinking ‘Dammit, I’m hurting him or something’ when a huge spurt of white cream came jetting out of the tip. There were about three ropes of the stringy stuff that squirted out, and then the sticky white dribbles continued to come out. He grunted “Oh yeah…DAMN.” While I continued to stroke it. He finally bucked one last time in a spasm that rocked both our bodies then he reached down and grabbed my hand to stop me. I turned on the warm water and was getting ready to wash the cum off my hand and his dick, and surprised that he wouldn’t let me. “I’ll do it.” He said. He washed my hand gently and carefully in his own huge strong hands, then just took a little warm water and kinda splashed it on his dick and put it back in his pants. While I was drying my hands he said “Thanks a lot Baby, I reeeealy needed that!” I kinda liked that he called me ‘baby’, no one had ever called me that before. But when he tried to give me a kiss, I pulled away from him and must have looked a little miffed. “Don’t kiss me” I said. “Why not?” he asked. I explained that what i had just done was a favor to him, and that I liked him, but didn’t love him. “I guess I’m saving my kisses for somebody I’m in love with. I will give you a big hug though.” He wrapped his arms around me and gave me one of those ‘big daddy’ squeezes that men hand out to their nieces. I walked to the front of the store, unlocked the door, and said “See ya later” to Stanley as he returned to pounding his beat. We were both wearing a sly smile as if we knew a secret about somebody else. But it was our fun little secret.
After he left and I was alone with my thoughts in the shop I decided that I was really proud of myself. For one thing I had done Susan a big favor, and Stanley was going to continue to protect our interests. I felt really cool because I had done something sexual for a real man, I felt like an adult. I was aware of how some people would think badly of me and what I had done, but I didn’t care. I went on with my washing and ironing feeling like a sexy woman.
A couple of days later I met Katie for lunch. It was like we had known each other for a long time because there was never any of that self-conscious awkwardness that teens feel whenever they are getting to know someone new. I felt like I could discuss anything with her. She told me she was a student at SLU and I told her I was only 18 and studying for the GED. We talked about my moms and her parents too. She told me she had enjoyed sex with boys as well as girls. We had a sandwich and then shopped around the store without really buying anything. We went to the cosmetics counter and tried some of the samples. It was a really nice day for January because the sun was out for a change. She was going to take the bus home, but I had the company van, so I offered her a ride. We talked some more as she gave me turn by turn directions to her house. The time just flew by and it was time to say goodbye again. She told me to remember where her house was ‘fer shure’ as she would be inviting me to sleep over soon. As I was driving back to the other side of the river I wondered what she would think if she knew that I wasn’t a normal girl. I resolved to tell her the next time we met.

Chapter 17

2009-07-23T16:19:00.001-06:00

It turned out that my biological mother had called on the phone while I was at the dance. Patricia explained that I was doing just fine and didn’t let on that all hell had broken loose in my life since I had spoken to her. Aunt Patricia instructed me to write her more often, but that she wanted to read the letters before I sealed them in the envelope to avoid any inadvertent slip-ups. I really wondered what was going to happen as far as my birth mom was concerned. Being 17 years old, I didn’t really worry too much about the future, but I was curious about how all this was going to play out. I came from an inordinately close family. They all stayed in constant touch…except for me. Patricia even had a great deal of trouble explaining to our family back home about her divorce, being catholic that was a huge no no, to say nothing of her current life situation. Needless to say I didn’t return the call, but I did compose a letter saying mostly that if she wrote me as well, I would be sure to get the message, I made the excuse that I was very busy and not home very much…which was a lie.
It was about this time that Patricia and Susan started noticing that I was squinting a lot. Dr Steph arranged for me to see an ophthalmologist friend of hers. Believe it or not when I got my glasses I looked even more feminine. Glasses in those days weren’t of a unisex style, and the frames I chose were definitely girly. (I wore contacts for a couple of years during the nineties, but for the most part I’ve worn glasses since.)
The winter of 1973/74 was extraordinarily cold in the Midwest. I remember thinking how 20 degrees in the damp cold in St Louis felt A LOT colder than 20 below zero felt in the dry Colorado air. Officer Jackson seemed to be spending more time in our shop than it would take to warm up and drink a cup of hot coffee. Susan told me that his wife and he hadn’t been getting along too well lately and he was pretty “love starved”. Susan said he had mentioned it several times and she surmised that soon he would probably do about anything to get some lovin’.
My 18th birthday was about a week away when my moms decided we should do something special to mark the occasion. We went out to dinner at a nice Italian restaurant. They had tablecloths and everything. I had the manicotti which was delicious. Patricia even convinced the waiter to bring me a glass of wine for such a special day. After we had paid the bill, I thought we’d go home because we all had to work in the morning. But my parents had other plans, we were going to go out to a lounge and have some more fun! Susan drove us since I’d had a drink. I don’t remember the name of the place, probably because there was no sign out front. It was a converted storefront with the front windows painted black. There were booths inside, and a makeshift bar along one wall. At the rear of the place there was a dance floor and stage which had only been elevated about four inches because of the low ceiling. A very classy older lady was playing the piano and singing. She was a platinum blonde who looked and sang like Julie London. She was accompanied by women playing a guitar and drums. There were a few couples dancing. The three of us sat in a darkened booth near the back. When the waitress came Patricia ordered three beers. Evidently the alcohol diminished Patricia’s inhibitions. She put her arm around Susan’s shoulder and looked me right in the eye and said “Susan tells me that you’ve been having some discussions with her about sex, and I wanted you to know that I think that’s great…except for one thing…” She paused to take another drink of beer and a drag of her parliament cigarette. “I just really wish that you felt comfortable enough with me to ask me some of those questions too.” I told her that I loved and respected her so much that it was difficult for me to ask her stuff that I found embarrassing because I truly didn’t want her to think any less of me. She replied that now that I was eighteen, we should all be more open with each other about such things. I noticed right then that every single person in the bar was a woman, even the couples dancing together. I smiled when the realization hit me. When my eye returned to our table, Patricia was kissing Susan in a way that I had never seen before. It wasn’t the little peck in the cheek like in the past, it was open mouthed French kissing. They were both breathing pretty hard, and I saw Susan’s hand sliding up Patricia’s thigh. I had a huge smile on my face because I knew that they were enjoying each other, I looked away so as not to intrude, but at the same time I really didn’t know where to look in that place. Everywhere my eyes went, there was somebody doing something that isn’t usually done in public. The waitress came by and gave me a second beer (Susan and Patricia weren’t even halfway thru their first one), and I was just enjoying the scenery. All that beer made me have to pee pretty bad, so I made my way to the restroom. As I was coming out of the stall, there was a really ravishing young brunette washing her hands and freshening her make-up. She said “hi” and I said the same. We made small talk as if we were in a bathroom in the lobby of the grand hotel. Then she said “Ya know what honey, you’re hot…in a really wholesome kind of way…” She turned to face me and put her hands on my shoulders while pushing me gently against the wall. She put her mouth to mine. It was a wonderful feeling! Like an electric spark shooting through my body. When she came up for air all I could say was “Gawd!” She said “You like?” I said “Very much.” She said “Wanna dance for a while?” I nodded yes, and we went to the dance floor and did the slow grind for a few songs. I glanced over at Susan and Patricia and they were smiling at us. While we were dancing I learned her name was Katie, and this wasn’t her first time in this place. I confessed that it was my eighteenth birthday and I was there with my ‘moms’. We walked hand in hand over to our table and we all talked a bit…getting to know one another while having a couple more drinks. I was pretty tipsy by that point, Katie and I danced some more. She said she had to leave soon as she had to be home before her Dad “Had a cow.” We exchanged phone numbers and promised to get together the next weekend. She asked if I could walk her to her car, and I said “Sure!” When the January night air hit us, it was a real eye opener. Her car barely started as it was so fucking cold. “I wish I had asked you to go to the powderoom with me instead of out here, but I just wanted to kiss you one more time and I didn’t want to do it in front of your mom.” The windows of her car were so iced up that nobody could see what we were doing. Even though we were both wearing coats, we still found a way to have some degree of intimacy. Jeez, she is such a beautiful girl, I thought. For the first time in my life, I felt something sexual. I wanted her like crazy, I was AROUSED! and EXCITED! For the first time in my life I felt a tingle ‘down there’…and there we were in a fucking Chrysler icebox. She finally broke the kiss and said “Truly, I have to go, please promise you’ll meet me this weekend.” I replied that I was sure I wanted to see her again as much she wanted to see me. She drove off into the icy night and I went back into the bar. I was thinking about how lucky I was when our waitress stopped me and told me politely that it was time for us girls to leave. I wasn’t sure what she meant until I got back to our table and saw that Susan and Patricia had been putting on quite a show for everyone in the bar. Patricia’s blouse was wide open and Susan was groping her breasts. Susan’s skirt was hiked up around her waist and Patricia had her hand inside her lover’s panties. “AHEM” I said, but they didn’t hear me, so I spoke louder “I’m back.” They both noticed me then and were wearing sheepish smiles while they straightened up (and buttoned up).
I drove us home because I was the least intoxicated. It was probably inadvisable because I was pretty tipsy myself and underage, but I didn’t run into anything or get a ticket. Susan and Patricia rode together in the back seat, from the moans, whispers, and giggles I could tell that they weren’t finished yet. I felt like a chauffeur except for the fact that I was driving Susan’s old ford and not a limousine. After we made our way back to our apartment, we sat at the kitchen table and partied a little more. Patricia offered me a cigarette for the first time (I had been stealing them up until then). The happy couple continued their touching, but they weren’t so focused on each other that the conversation didn’t continue. They asked me about the girl I met at the bar, and how I felt about that. Patricia said that her relationship with me was going to be more friendly in the future, because I was old enough to understand more about life. She promised to loosen up a little, not be quite so strict, and be more of a friend to me. Evidently my recent discussions with Susan had made her think that I wasn’t comfortable enough with her to have a frank discussion about anything serious.
I said it was getting late, and I was pretty tired. As I mentioned before, our apartment really only had three rooms, the bathroom, the bedroom where my mothers slept, and a combination kitchen and living room where I slept. The only delineation between the kitchen and our living room was the linoleum stopped and the varnished wood floor started. The stove, fridge, sink, and kitchen table occupied about a third of the room. The rest of the room was occupied by a couch, a coffee table, my dresser (which was really a bureau which doubled as a stand for our stereo), and my twin bed. Patricia and Susan both kissed me goodnight and gave me a last “Happy Birthday”. They said they were going to stay up for a while and finish their beers in the kitchen. Susan turned out the light, but a little illumination from the streetlamp outside the window over the kitchen sink gave the room a soft, almost blue glow. I was about to drift off to sleep thinking about Katie and where my friendship with her was going to lead, when I heard Susan and Patricia tiptoe over to the couch. They removed each other’s clothes before they sat down and began kissing and fondling one another. It was pretty dark at the head of my bed, but there was just enough light on the couch to see what they were doing. To this day I don’t know if they knew I was watching, but I suspect Susan was turned on by the fact that I might be. Patricia was probably too drunk to care. Susan was laying on her back and Patricia began giving her head. Susan was looking toward my bed the whole time, her breathing was becoming deeper and more rapid. I remember wishing it me and Katie on that couch. Susan’s body began to tighten, her back arched as she shuddered in the throes of a climax that seemed to go on and on. After her orgasm subsided, Patricia crawled up on top of her so they were face to face. They kissed so tenderly and I heard Patricia whisper “Oh honey, I love you so much.”

thanks

2009-07-21T09:02:00.000-06:00

I found this pic and thought it was cute. To all who have posted comments, thank you!

Chapter 16

2009-07-21T08:44:00.000-06:00

As previously mentioned, up to this point in my life, I really didn’t have much in the way of sexual feelings. Not only that, I didn’t have much of an idea how human sexuality was supposed to work, one day I was at the public library doing some studying for my GED and it came on me like a flash. All of a sudden, I was curious about sex. I wasn’t turned on or anything, I just had a yen to know what was supposed to happen between a man and a woman when they made love. I read for about three hours, getting the basics (you know, insert tab A into slot B). All of this only really left me with more questions. I was wondering about a lot of things, like what Susan and Patricia did when they made love, and also, how would I fit into this ‘sexual picture’ someday.
Sundays were very fun for me. The shop was closed, and my Mom (Aunt) had to work at the car dealership, so Susan and I took the opportunity to do ‘girlstuff’. We did each other’s hair and nails, read magazines, and she showed me how to apply make-up. She basically taught me everything about being a girl. We even talked about how normal girls get their period and I wished I could have one too. Susan told me “That’s a visitor you just don’t want every month, consider yourself extremely lucky, because the cramps can be hell!” We just relaxed and had fun being with each other, she was just so good to me.
One Sunday, I asked her how will I know if I like boys or girls? She had just started to answer that one when I said “I read at the library how a man and a woman have sex, how do two girls do it?” She smiled, “I’ll answer all your questions, but Let’s take this one thing at a time! First of all, you will know…it will just be apparent to you, just give it time. As far as the second question goes, they do whatever feels good, they have to tell each other what they like, and their partner just does it for them. It’s usually a very close relationship, because communication is so important.” I gave her that “Huh?” look and said “But what do you use? Neither of you has a penis.” To which she replied “I guess I’ll start at the beginning”. She went on to explain how they used their fingers and tongues…and thighs. She explained the difference between a clitoral orgasm and a vaginal orgasm. When I had more questions, she said “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt anything if I just showed you. You’re old enough that you should know these things, and since you don’t have a vagina yourself, how will know unless you see one.” She took off her shorts and panties and proceeded to show me her crotch. She pointed out her inner & outer labia, her vagina opening, her clitoris, and her little pee hole. I was astonished. I had no idea how different a real girl was from me…down there. I was also not only surprised, but also taken with the way it looked…like staring at a Rembrandt. I’m sure she didn’t feel awkward at all, until I asked her if I could touch it. To which she replied “No honey, I wouldn’t feel right about that.” Then she put her panties back on.
We started talking about penises then. She actually said that was the only part of a man that she missed. She said that she loved Patricia in every way, but occasionally she had fantasies about cock…and then she giggled nervously. “You must never tell Patricia though, because she might feel jealous or insecure if she knew about that.” She went on to tell me about giving head to a man and how much she enjoyed it, and how enjoyable it was to be fucked by a man who knew what he was doing…not just some bastard who was looking to empty his balls, but was making love to her “There is a huge difference between fucking and making love you know. When a man makes love to you, you both enjoy it, when you get fucked, only he enjoys it. Sometimes it can even hurt a little.” She told me that she had always been fascinated by the way a man spurts when he has an orgasm…”that moment is so mesmerizing to me!” She went on to say “Peggy, I wouldn’t worry about any of this. I’m certain you’ll figure out what you want to do and who you’ll want to be with in the long run. Truth be told, it’s your lover’s heart and soul that makes for a good relationship, after a while the sex is really just icing on the cake…cake can be pretty good without any icing at all.” I laughed at that. She gave me a motherly hug.
It was really a coincidence that I had my first date not too long after that Sunday chat with Susan. A very awkward young boy asked me to his high school dance. He was an errand boy for one of our customers.
Patricia and Susan made a big fuss about getting me ready, what I would wear etc. They of course gave me a really long lecture about not letting him ‘go too far’ for obvious reasons.
It wasn’t homecoming or prom, but it was a real dance and I had fun. We danced a lot, and I even had some fun with the other girls, we had a ‘girltalk’ session outside when we were all sneaking a smoke. It was one of those punch & cookies sockhop in the gym affairs. My dates’ name was Dave, and he was good looking, but one of the most self conscious people I’d ever met. After the dance he parked his car a mile up the road from his school and we had a ‘make-out’ session. It was the first time I’d ever been kissed. I let him feel my little boobies which made him rock hard. I tried to stop it there, because that was all I really wanted to do anyway, but he was pretty excited. I had to push his hand away from my crotch several times, but I kept kissing him back. I touched him ‘down there’ not only because I was curious, but also I wanted to make him “feel good” without the danger of his discovering my genetic predicament. I finally put my thigh between his legs and basically rubbed him off until he shuddered and there was a wet spot on the crotch of his polyester bell bottoms. After he drove me home, he said “Thanks Peggy.” He had kind of an embarrassed smile, and I guessed he was relieved when I said that I’d had fun too. I let him give me a peck on the cheek before I went in our front door.
I was laying in bed wide awake for hours that night recounting the events of the evening. More than anything else, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I had done him a favor, something that was easy for me to do, but meant a great deal to him. I thought to myself that I was on my way to becoming a woman. I had some wonderful dreams when I finally drifted off to sleep. The dreams weren’t sexual at all, but more a cross between Cinderella and Alice in Wonderland with lil peggy as the star of the show.

hello out there!!

2009-07-17T08:09:00.000-06:00

I thought i'd make a quick post to let you know that i'm still here even though my readers seem to have stopped showing interest in my story.

I WILL NOT POST A NEW CHAPTER UNTIL SOMEBODY (anybody) POSTS A COMMENT FOR THE PREVIOUS ONE. PERIOD.

After all why would i continue posting if nobody is reading?

Chapter Fifteen

2009-05-30T21:40:00.000-06:00

Susan obtained a booklet for me entitled “Preparing for the Illinois State Driver’s License Test”, which took me about two hours to digest. A few days later we went to a facility where I took the written portion of the test and was issued a ‘learner’s permit’ which entitled me to drive as long as there was another licensed driver in the car. Poor Susan about had a heart attack several times while she was trying to teach me to drive, but eventually I slowed down, and became competent at handling her big Ford.
I was starting to have episodes on an almost weekly basis when I would start to cry, and just would be unable to stop. Mom and Susan handled it very well, and were stern when it was indicated, and tender and understanding when it was best to ‘placate me’. My sixteenth birthday rolled around, and being basically a bag-o-emotions, it was both a tearfilled and happy occasion. I received a bottle of ‘white shoulders’ perfume of my very own. It was exactly what I’d wanted.
Whenever I had fifty cents, I would always go to the newsstand and buy a fashion magazine. I delighted in looking at the advertisements, and reading the beauty tips. I desperately wanted to wear make-up, but mom put her foot down and said “when you’re a little older.” We argued about it for two years, and she mostly won, but I would practice and experiment (with Susan’s help) whenever mom was away.
Finally our finances were really on track, we weren’t rich by any means, but we had worked so hard, that it had finally began to pay off. We had the dry cleaning equipment installed and operating, and all the loans we had taken out to set up the business had at least gotten to the point where the payments were comfortable. So now we were doing alterations, laundry, dry cleaning, and a small amount of tailoring and dressmaking. We now had all the business we could handle and a little bit on top of that, so we were able to raise our prices just a bit.
Susan finally said I was ready to take the driving test. We went down to the facility, and I took the examiner for a ride. Amazingly enough, I passed the first time! Amazing because the county hardly ever passed anybody on their first try because they got to charge for the test again if you had to retake the test. I had one more ‘legal’ document that said ‘Margaret’ on it, so I was doubly happy.
The whole idea of teaching me to drive was so that we could buy a van for the business. That way we could offer our customers pick-up and delivery service (and get free advertising from the name and phone number on the side of the van). So Susan picked out a van, it was a used chevy that was in good shape. It had no frills at all because it had been built to be a delivery van, no windows in the back, no radio, no air conditioning. It did the job for years , but I hated driving it.
Surprisingly enough, just having the van doubled our business. We got a ton of customers from across the river. We had so much work that Susan was able to finally quit her job at the other cleaners…we needed her full time at our business, just helping out with catch up in the evenings wasn’t enough.
I started to notice that my body was indeed changing. My hips were widening, I was ‘filling out’. My little cotton panties were not only wearing out, but they really didn’t fit any more. My nipples really started getting sensitive. At night, when I was all alone in bed, I would play with them for hours. It felt soo good that I just couldn’t stop. When they would get erect, they would protrude enough so that you could see them through my blouse, so mom decided it was time for me to start wearing training bras if only to hide my pert nipples. It was either that or an undershirt. My breasts started to grow a little, in fact within a year, they were a noticeable “A” cup.
My mood swings had gotten noticeably worse, but as far as my sexual curiosity goes, there was still nothing. Mom was ignoring that possibility, but Susan would occasionally ask me some suggestive questions every now and then to be supportive and keep tabs on what I might be up to. Susan really was a good parent in some respects, she loved me very much, and I always felt that I could tell her anything. I want to say here that she and Patricia were the best possible parents I could have had. I thanked God then (and I still do) that I was fortunate enough to end up being raised by them. I often wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn’t been sent to live with my aunt…i certainly wouldn’t have been as happy…or as loved.

A note to PL and my other readers...thanks for reading, i hope you are enjoying this story. It has been quite cathartic writing it.

Chapter 14

2009-05-26T13:36:00.000-06:00

When we got home from Baltimore I really started applying myself to my studies in earnest. I was a little afraid that if I didn’t do well, that I’d have to go back to school. I spent about two hours a day basically doing homework, and was starting to make some real progress. Dr Steph called us to set up a date & time for a conference. My new mom and I went to the medical building where Dr Schmidt’s office was. The purpose of the meeting was to brief us on the report from Johns Hopkins. In attendance was Drs Steph & Schmidt, mom, and i.
Dr Steph summarized the report by saying that the doctors in Baltimore had basically concurred with everything that the local physicians had found. Both doctors apologized to us for taking so long to give us their ‘findings’, but that my case was so rare that they wanted to be sure that I wasn’t “misdiagnosed”. Dr Steph went on: “Mrs. Tucker, it seems as if your daughter” (the first time I had ever heard the word ‘daughter’ used in reference to me) “is a one in a million case. Her body chemistry is that of a female, while her genitals are those of a male. As her body naturally matures, this will become more apparent. She won’t grow much taller than she is now, She won’t have any facial hair, and she will probably start to develop a female shape. You should both prepare yourselves for the difficult time that will come soon. Puberty is difficult for any child, but it might just be particularly difficult for Peggy.” She glanced at Dr Schmidt, which was probably his cue to continue: “From a psychological standpoint, I have some things which will probably be difficult to hear. Peggy will never be able to have children. She will not be able to bear nor ‘father’ a child of her own. I know that news like this is difficult, but I thought it best to get it out in the open right now so neither one of you had any misconceptions.” (I thought it really bizarre that he used the word ‘mis-conceptions’ in light of the fact that I couldn’t conceive, and that my own conception was definitely of the miss-ed variety.) “Dr Steph and I will both continue to be of any help that we can.” He looked at mom who had tears welling up in her eyes. “From what I have seen, you have a wonderful child here. She is very bright and has a wonderful sense of humor. She is quite mature for her age, if she wasn’t I might not have thought it best to discuss these issues in her presence.” He paused for a moment, trying to let his previous statement help Patricia deal with the specter that was ahead of us. “You might be mourning her future, and worried about the life that she has in front of her, but you should be thankful that she wasn’t born 100 years ago. She might have been publicly executed in those ignorant times. Please call us if you have any questions or concerns.” Dr Steph went on to tell us that she was sure that we’d had enough of Doctors for a while, but that I should see her for a regular check-up in about three months. They had mom sign a release form so that they could publish the facts of my case in a medical journal, and in return they promised free medical care for Mom, Susan, and i.
I dealt with the news that I wasn’t ever going to be a parent with ease. I was so young at that point, that I hadn’t even considered the possibility. Of course there was also the fact that in my early teens, I wasn’t really sexual at all. I didn’t fantasize about it, or wonder what it would be like for me. I just thought that it was tenderness that was shared by two people in love. I did know that I wanted to be pretty. I was taken by the idea of at least appearing to be a pretty girl. In my mind at the time, I didn’t really think that it would make all that much difference what my crotch looked like.
After that appointment, Mom gave up any ideas that this was something that I had somehow dreamed up. The first thing we did when we got home that afternoon was box up all my ‘boyclothes’ and take them to the goodwill. We then went straight to the ‘near new’ shop and bought three blouses, two skirts, a pair of what they called ‘pedal-pushers’ in those days (they’re called capri’ pants now), a sundress, and a robe…all for me. From that day forward she treated as a one hundred percent natural born girl. She actually referred to the years before my diagnosis as my “tomboy years”. She and Susan began to go to great lengths to treat me even more like a daughter than the average teenage girl. They would have spoiled me if they could have afforded it.

chapter 13

2009-05-25T13:30:00.000-06:00

Well, the ‘big day’ that I had been waiting for finally arrived. Aunt Patricia and I were to go consult with all the doctors who had examined me. I thought that this would be the day that the weekly appointments and all the worry would stop. Aunt Patricia and I would finally get some explanation of what my treatment (if any) would be, and hopefully some questions about my uncertain future would finally be answered.

As usual I had to sit in the reception area while the adults all got together and talked about me…a very unnerving medical practice I thought then and still do. Aunt Patricia told me later that mostly what was discussed in my absence was legal guardianship, as in who had the legal right to make medical decisions for a minor.

After I was called to enter the conference room I was offered a seat next to my lovely aunt. She held my hand and one at a time the doctors all summarized their findings. None of which was presented in simple English. I was able to figure out a few things from the presentation, but I was just a kid at the time and none of it was explained in layman’s terms, let alone understandable to a teenager.

It didn’t turn out to be the big day at all. Oh, they all said that they had learned a lot about my case, and that I was definitely “extraordinary”. As a matter of fact, any treatment would be delayed for a while because some other doctors wanted to see me first…at Johns Hopkins University Hospital in Baltimore. Aunt Patricia was worried too, who was going to pay for the trip, and last but not least what about all the legal concerns mentioned earlier . Dr Steph could see that the doctors were very close to ‘losing the audience’ so she stood up to the surprise of some of the other physicians. She said that she was more than willing to pay for the trip, and that it was definitely in my best interest to go…no matter how inconvenient it was.

On the way home, my head was just reeling. I was more tired of doctors than you (the reader) are sick of reading about them. I was crying again, almost inconsolable, mostly because I thought this was to be the last appointment, but there really was no end in sight. Aunt Patricia was so strong, even though she was worried too, she told me that it would all work out for the best in the long run.

Susan and aunt Patricia had some pretty huge concerns themselves. This ‘legal guardianship’ thing might cause us all a real headache. I told my aunt in no uncertain terms that I did not want my mother involved in any way. First of all she had huge problems of her own, and I had began to accept Patricia and Susan as my parents. I loved them both so much and was 100 times more happy with them than I ever would be anywhere else. I said “Nobody ever described my mother as understanding!!” To which my aunt replied “You’re absolutely right, if she knew you were living your life as a girl she would come uncorked…aside from the fact that Susan and I are lesbians!”

Susan seemed distracted, not listening to us at all. When she burst out “What if we just forge the papers?” Aunt Patricia and I were both silent for a minute. “As a matter a fact, while we’re at it we might as well get Peggy a birth certificate that says ‘female’ on it! Then she could get a social security card and a driver’s license with her name on them. It might cost us a few bucks, but it would be worth it to just change her identity! People do it all the time.” My aunt and I were surprised at the simplicity it seemed to offer. It was a solution to a lot of questions that I had wondered about.

Susan handled the whole thing. The first document she obtained was a notarized legal guardianship which she paid twenty dollars for from a forger who was a ‘friend of a friend’. She got a package deal from the forger and he made me a new birth certificate too. It says that my name is Margaret Helen Tucker and I was born at St Mary’s Hospital on January 28, 1956. It also says that my Aunt Patricia is my mother, and lists my father as “deceased”. Susan even paid a clerk at the St Clair county courthouse ten dollars to file the copies. The whole process had cost fifty bucks, and now I was happy to call Patricia “Mom” for the first time. My social security card came in the mail a couple of months later.

(authors note: In the interest of saving my typing fingers, from here on I’ll refer to my Aunt Patricia as my mom. I started calling her mom that autumn. If I need to refer to my birth mother, I’ll say just that: birth mother”.)

The trip to Johns Hopkins wasn’t that bad at all. It was kind of a vacation for me and my new mom. We had fun on the train, mom was sneaking me beer the whole time, I didn’t get drunk, just a little giggly. Dr Steph was serious about paying for the trip, she had even booked us a hotel room within walking distance of the hospital. Since it was winter, I needed some additions to my wardrobe, so mom and I had gone over the river to a ‘near new’ store and gotten me some decent clothes to wear. I still remember the hound’s-tooth wool suit that we got a great deal on…it fit me soo nicely. I was glad we bought a coat too, because it was freezing! Susan had bought me my first pair of pantyhose, I thought they were for appearance only, but it turned out that without them my poor scrawny legs would have froze! Baltimore is a nice city, mom and I were always able to find something to do or see when the Doctors were taking a break from their ‘poking and prodding’.

Most of the tests were very similar to the ones already done in St Louis.

On our last day there, after the battery of tests had been completed, we had a consultation with a Doctor Stanley. He told us both “We all here at Johns Hopkins want to thank you so much for coming here. We found your case to be most interesting. We’ll forward our recommendations to your Doctors in St Louis after we confer on the data we’ve collected.” We were to catch the train that evening, so we grabbed our luggage and headed to the train station. While we were waiting to board the train, out of the blue, my wonderfully witty traveling companion said “Well, that seemed like a waste of fuckin’ time, at least we had fun honey!” She had a mirth in her voice that caused me to laugh out loud.

chapter 12

2009-05-07T22:18:00.000-06:00

Chapter 12

My appointment with Dr Schmidt pretty much like the previous one, only much, much longer. He started by telling me that there were a few things he had to be sure of before he conferred with the other Doctors involved with my case. He asked me some of the same questions 2 or 3 times…very annoying for a teenager. The interview seemed to go in circles as he seemed to always end up back in the same place. It just went on and on. Finally he said “Okay, I think I have a pretty good understanding of your case, thank you for your patience. You can go home now.” I got up and started toward the door. “Oh Peggy…” I turned toward him, surprised he had used the name I prefer “would you like for me to call you a cab?” I replied that I didn’t have money for a cab, but he said “That’s okay, it’ll be my treat.” Halfway home in the cab it dawned on me that Dr Schmidt hadn’t been “grilling” me to be unkind, but instead had to in order to find out if I was some sort of suicidal neurotic. I was tired, and arrived home exhausted. If I had ridden the bus, I might have fallen asleep and missed my stop.
At about this time the crime rate started to rise in my hometown. Civil unrest had swept the country after the riots in Detroit, Chicago, and Los Angeles, and East St Louis was pretty much an economic mess even before all that happened. Looking back on it, the riots in those other cities at least served the purpose of sending a message to the “establishment”. However it seemed pretty pointless to everyone with a head on their shoulders to riot in a city that was already broken to the point of bankruptcy. Everybody who had a way out (including Tina Turner & Miles Davis) left. The city had no money to pay for anything. Already we had the lowest paid police of any big city in the country. None of our neighbors really expected them to do much until the sniper started shooting. Who it was or why they did it was never found out, the sniper/s was/were never caught. The police didn’t even have cars to drive, because they were all broken, there was no money to fix them. Susan thought it would be a very good idea to make friends with Officer Jackson, our beat cop.

I suppose Officer Jackson was on the take, because he had to be. He probably had a wife or two and a kid or seven. He was a huge, powerful man, like most cops were in those days. They mostly dealt out the law with their fists on the beat, handling most confrontations without any arrest, paperwork, or court. The city probably didn’t have the money to feed the average fuck-up while they spent the night in jail anyway. I think that about half the cops on the East St Louis PD were black. I think the city thought that it was in everybody’s best interest, and they were right. I think that it was about 1971 when half the force just quit. The firemen said that they liked their jobs, and wanted to stay, but that they had families to feed and bills to pay…they hadn’t been paid in about three months.
So when Susan invited officer Jackson into our shop for a sandwich and a cup of coffee, that was a really smart play. He wasn’t a bad man at all, as a matter of fact, he was really normal. We all started to enjoy his company because he had a different view of things and a wonderful sense of humor. I started seeing my aunt secretly slipping him an envelope every now and then. She told me later that it was “five bucks well spent” to give her a little peace of mind for the month.
Officer Stanley Jackson became one of our best friends in the neighborhood, at six foot two and about 200 pounds, he cut an intimidating figure in his blue uniform. Nobody in their right mind was going to give him any trouble. When he came by for a glass of lemonade in the summer, he would always tell us about some idiot he’d had to arrest recently for sheer stupidity. As we grew more and more familiar with him he came to understand that my aunt and susan were basically married, and he told me confidentially that he “had a sister who was like that and folks should just understand what is their business and what ain’t. They ain’t hurtin’ nobody.”

2009-05-01T12:26:00.000-06:00

A note to PL: Thanks for leaving a comment. I finally had some time to spend on this blog, and this girl absolutely lives for feedback...

Chapter 11

Since Aunt Patricia had to work at the dealership on Saturdays, Susan had to drive me to the appointment. Our shop was normally open until noon on Saturday, but we closed the shop up early and left. Dr Steph asked Susan if she’d give us a few minutes alone, and she sat with me explaining a few things. She mostly wanted to allay my fears about the number of appointments with all the different Doctors. She explained why I had to see each of them and why. She went on to say that they were all going to confer on my case, and she promised that she had my best interest at heart. She called Susan into the office and assured her that what was important right now was to treat me just like any other healthy teenage girl. She said that the results of my tests so far had revealed that there was definitely something going on with my endocrine system, but that for the time being, the medication that they wanted me on was for a hypoactive thyroid. Dr Steph assured me that it would only give me a little more energy and make my hair grow faster. My hair wasn’t exactly thick and healthy, and I was very thin at that time.
Most people didn’t take vitamins in those days, and Americans mostly didn’t eat right. The doctor gave me a pamphlet entitled “Nutrition for healthy young girls.” I kept it and to read it now is kinda hilarious. The medical field was under some basic misconceptions in those days, for instance the recommended amount of fat was waay too high for a healthy body of either sex. We ate pretty good anyway, as well as our finances would allow.
Doctor Steph was apparently very forward thinking, maybe because she was a lesbian, maybe because she was just intelligent, but she went on to try to explain to me how and why I was “different” than other kids. She chose her words carefully trying not to upset me. She stressed that “nature causes these things, just like it makes some people short and others tall, some have brown hair and others blonde.” She went on to say that so far all the lab work had shown that my body was programmed from birth to be this way. “To put it simply Peggy, your glands are female. You have one chromosome that caused you to be mistaken for a boy at birth, but the rest of you is pretty much chemically female.”
What she had said at this appointment made me feel soo much better, at least for a while. I started to have a better outlook on life, instead of totally dreading my future and wondering what a horrible life providence had in store for me. While we sat there listening to one side of the conversation she phoned my aunt and told her what she had just told me. She also told my aunt that I had another appointment with Dr Schmidt (the shrink) in a week, and that it would be for two hours, and that she should plan on attending a conference with all of my doctors in about two weeks. She gave my aunt two or three tentative dates that the conference might be held, and told her to keep them all open.
Susan stopped at a drug store on the way home to pick up my new prescription. She brought me into the store with her and she bought me some secret deodorant, a bar of Neutrogena facial soap, some nice smelling lotion, and some astringent pads. Susan was really going out of her way to be especially kind to me.

Chapter Ten

2009-04-22T10:09:00.000-06:00

Chapter Ten

Needless to say, i've been away from my computer for a while and have been extremely busy, but, trust me, i was thinking about all of you who are reading these installments and wondering what happened next.

It was about this time that my Aunt Patricia became more receptive to the idea of me dressing as a girl all the time. I must have looked uncomfortable and even a little more geeky (if that's possible) in boys clothes. She gave me 2 pairs of shoes, one was a pair of plain white sneakers that were popular with young girls then, and a pair of penny loafers. She instructed me to buy some fabric so i could make some wardrobe basics for myself. Susan bought me some cotton panties with a little flower print on them. She apparently went shopping with her boss again because she even got me a cute little beret!
I sewed a pair of culottes and two pastel blouses and began to wear them almost exclusively until i could get some more fabric. Most of our customers don't even notice the difference, but a couple of women did. One of our meanest and most troublesome customers was Mrs Townsend. It seemed like she was always complaining about something. One day i was getting her cleaning together right when she came into the shop. When i told her it would be a minute and how much the bill was going to be, she hit the ceiling. She demanded to see my Aunt right away. I rang the upstairs bell twice, our signal that we needed help down in the shop. Mrs Townsend went into a tirade about she didn't approve of our service, we charged too much, we were in a bad location, we didn't press he garments correctly, we didn't change our cleaning fluid often enough, etc, etc. Patricia was trying to appease her until she got personal by saying she didn't at all approve of the "faggot" behind the counter. That was the end of my Aunt's patience. With one hand she snatched her garments up angrily and with the other she grabbed Mrs Townsend by the arm and escorted her to the door. She threw her garments on the sidewalk and said angrily "Don't ever come back, we don't need your business!"
Obviously I felt really bad about the whole episode, so i was was crying. My Aunt came over to me and hugged me tenderly. I said "I'm sooo sorry, I was trying to please her, but she just kept complaining." Patricia said "There's just no pleasing some people, honey, they are just angry all the time...don't worry about it."
I had a couple more Dr appointments soon after that. One was with a Dr Schmidt who was a psychologist, or a psychiatrist, i can't remember which, and the other was an appointment to see Dr Steph again. I was of course nervous about the appointment with the shrink as any teenager would be. I took the bus downtown to the medical building where his office was. There was no receptionist, and 'the examination room' looked more like a comfortable den than the rooms i had grown to expect. He motioned for me to sit in the chair opposite his desk and just began to ask me a ton of questions. I guess i was being kind of 'nervously funny' with my answers which caused him to get a little stern. He said "Don't waste my time with your silly jokes, get serious. I'm here to help you but I can't do that if you won't let me help you."
It was kind of interesting the way he 'examined me'. First he had me look at several pictures and had me tell him what the people in the pictures were thinking, then we went through the same pictures one at a time and i had to tell him what the people in the pictures were saying, then he had me go through a second set of pictures and had me tell him who i identified with in the picture. The he asked me a whole bunch of questions that were pretty straightforward, like: Did i want to be a girl?
Did i know why i wanted to be a girl?
Did i know what a man and a woman do when they have sex?
Did my parents love me?
Describe my life at home.
Did i want to have sex with men?
Did i see myself as pretty or cute?
Had i ever had sex before?
Did i "play with myself"?
It seemed as if he was going to pry me open and pour my consciousness out all over his desk. I was very uncomfortable through the whole process, because this stranger was digging around in my very private and most unconventional life. But he had a bit of a knack, he was able to basically find out what he wanted to know without me even wanting to tell him all the sordid details. I was getting tired, and feeling more and more embarrassed when he abruptly announced "We're though for today Peggy. Time's up. I'll call Dr Steph and tell her my findings, but I think we should have at least one more appointment."
I left his office feeling very self-conscious. I felt as if everyone was staring at me while i waited for the bus. After I got off the bus, I had to walk two blocks up Missouri Avenue. For the first time a boy whistled at me. He was riding a bike on the other side of the street, going the opposite direction. When i turned my head he smiled at me, but he kept pedaling. He was a very attractive young boy, about 16 years old. Some white girls my age would have been offended at having been whistled at, especially by a black kid, no matter how good looking he was. But i was flattered. I felt alot better after he did that. I wasn't aroused, at that age i really wasn't sexual at all, but my self-confidence rose dramatically at that moment. I started walking with my head up. Before that i trudged along stooped over looking like i expected something awful to happen.

Chapter Nine

2009-02-12T22:33:00.000-07:00

I thought of Dr Ed everytime i saw this actor on E.R. he doesn't look exactly like him though.

Chapter 9

Needless to say, i was feeling a whole lot better about Dr Steph when she talked Patricia into getting me out of school. It wasn't the work, or the learning that i hated, it was just the embarrasment of 'not fitting in' that was such an emotional drain. I thought that if i really tried hard at this 'home schooling' thing that i could get away with not having to go to the place with the really cruel kids anymore, so i really applied myself and did well with it in the long run.

Susan obtained some forms from the county for us to fill out and some books that were for GED prep. When she brought them home, i thought it was an insurmountable amount of information, but after a couple of months, it didn't seem so bad. I learned to just take it one bite at time, anything was better than going to that school.

The doctor called monday morning to inform us that my appointment was to be wednesday at 3 instead of 5, and at the other Doctor's office. This was something of a scare for me as neither Susan nor Patricia could go with me and Dr Steph wouldn't be there.

It was about this time that Susan bought a stereo. All we had up until that time was an AM radio. It is interesting to ponder what my taste in music would be today if i had grown up in another city with an FM stereo in my formative years. I developed a love for Jazz, Blues, and Soul that no doubt comes from listening to that AM radio in St Louis. I think the stereo was a gift for me mostly, and Patricia was mildly upset that Susan had spent the money because we really couldn't afford it. But the truth is that Patricia loved music and she was the one who really got the most enjoyment out of it. Patricia had a bunch of old records that she had boxed up and brought with her when we moved. We didn't have anything to play them on until now, so i got exposed to swing music then too. Tommy & Jimmy Dorsey, Glen Miller, Arte Shaw, were among the selection of 78 rpm platters that she had collected.

Not too long after we got the stereo Patricia and Susan started to dance to the records, i loved watching them dance. Every now and then they'd kinda forget i was watching and kiss a little more deeply than their usual good morning peck on the cheek. I made me feel so good to know that they were so much in love. It wasn't long before they decided that i should learn to dance, i have such fond memories of them trying to teach me to be "graceful". They would show me how to do a certian move and then Patricia would sit down and watch and Susan would lead me through. We had a lot of fun!

Wednesday arrived. Susan helped me get ready for the appointment, so i would be convincing and look just like a 'normal' teenage girl. (I guess my taste in clothes was a little too flamboyant to blend in, i had a real tendency to overcompensate and try a little too hard to be fem.) The Doctor was a Urologist and i think his name was Tompson, i do remember exactly where his office was though. It was downtown, Susan could drop me off, but I would have to take the bus home. Patricia figured out the route i should take, where to transfer and what bus number to get on, so i wouldn't get lost.

Susan dropped me off, and i wasn't really dreading this appointment near as much as my last one. The nurse got a urine sample from me and took me to the examination room and told me to remove all my clothes except for my undies and gave me the usual gown to put on. The Doctor came in after the obligatory 'tap tap' on the door. He sat down and pretty quickly started to interview me like he was in some kind of hurry. He told me that he had discussed my case at length with both Dr Ed and Dr Steph. He asked me a few more pointed questions like "Have you ever had any trouble urinating?" and "Dr Steph told me that you said that you have never ejaculated or had an erection is that right?" Then he laid me down on the exam table and push on my lower belly pretty much like Dr Ed did a few days before. He had me spread my legs enough for him to examine my 'private parts' and he asked if they ever hurt. He asked if i remember any injuries 'down there'. I said no. He then did the 'finger up my butt thing' that i had found so embarrasing when Dr Steph did it. This guy knew exactly where the spot was, but he had no idea that a microscope slide wasn't going to catch it all. I spurted and let out the usual whimper that was impossible for me to contain even though i knew it was coming. When some of the fluid hit the floor, he stopped the pressure on that spot. He got a sample cup and did it again, and this time there was even more than the time when Dr Steph did it. This time, i didn't let out a whimper, it was a definite moan. The Doctor only said "Hmm", i was pretty dazed, but focused my eyes enough to see that the little sample cup was pretty close to being full. He removed the rubber gloves and said "You can wipe your tush & get dressed now...i'll be back in a minute." I almost fell down when i got off the examination table because my knees were so weak. I wiped the KY jelly out of my butt, and got dressed. When he got back i must have looked a little disheveled. He said "Sit down for a second, did that proceedure seem to make you fatigued or tired?" I answered "Yes, a little, but it mostly makes me feel kinda yucky, like i'm a little bit sick." "Interesting," he replied. He paused and drew a breath before he continued "You know that the amount i got there was about 10 times normal, usually all there is a couple of drops...just enough to examine under the microscope. Has that ever happened to you before?" "Only when Dr Steph did the same thing." I answered. "I'd like to do some more research on your particular conditon, but we don't have the time for that right now. Have your mom call Dr Steph on friday morning, she's handling your case, and she'll tell you what the next step is." I let it go that he had said my mom, and just said "Okay."

I felt like crap walking down the street to the bus stop. When the right bus finally came, it was pretty much jammed with people. A nice man offered me his seat. (That kinda bolstered my confidence, because he obviously thought i was all girl.) I transferred to the bus that went over the river and it wasn't nearly as crowded. After about five stops a white man got on the bus and sat in the seat behind me. I know he was just trying to be helpful when he asked me if i was lost because "cute little girls like you shouldn't be by themselves on this side of the river." I said i lived about a mile down the road on Missouri Avenue and he said "Oh, I'm sorry." I glanced around at the people within earshot who were giving us the eye...the only two white people on the bus were having a conversation about what a bad neighborhood this was. I answered the man in a voice loud enough to be heard "I like living on Missouri Avenue!" That seemed to make some folks smile a bit...all except for the poor guy who put his foot in his mouth trying to be helpful. Everybody kept to themselves after that. As usual, i was really glad to be home when i got there.

Chapter Eight

2009-02-09T22:32:00.000-07:00

This pic seemed to fit here. I guess i'm kinda 'visual' in that when i go to a webpage or blog, if there are no pics, i can't really get interested enough to start reading.

More Doctor Stuff

authors note: If you started reading this from the begining, you have no doubt figured out that i thought that this was going to take a couple of short entires, but after i got going, i learned that is was going to be longer than that...much longer. But hopefully i'm not boring you with my words. if you're an 'instant gratification' type that surf around looking for visual images or really sexy stories that will 'peak your fancy', check back later. if you want to read a good story about what happened to a woman who has lived a full life, but was born male, you have come to the right place.

I was really dreading school starting, but more than usual. There were more than the usual issues after all. Being verbally abused normally and being a dorky outcast are one thing, i was starting to worry about how not maturing as a male was going to be recieved by the kids at my school. Being beat up four times a year was about average up till now, would it get worse?

Aside from that, this week i was particularly freaked out. To say that i was freaked out is not an exageration. I knew i was different, but to this point i thought i was just a little mentally different. It was pretty much explained to me in no uncertain terms that i was physically different as well. That can be a very upsetting thing to a teen, at least it was to me, and i didn't take the news very well.

Speaking of taking the news. Susan must have felt that she was in over her head that week too. I'm sure she thought that she'd just run me over to see the doctor, she'd talk to me for five minutes, give us the scrip for the hormones, and we'd be outta there. She probably envisioned arresting my vertical growth, lessening my body hair, and maybe i would grow an "A" cup sized pair of cute little titties. Suffice it to say she must have figured that my only blood relative in town should be notified about anything that could drastically effect my health and well being. Besides by monday morning it was probably blatantly obvious that something was really wrong with me. Apparently i just wasn't acting like usual (duh! hello kitty!) and Patricia probably asked Susan if she had any idea what was up with the kid. When i dragged myself out of bed the next morning, Susan and Patricia were already awake and mostly ready for the day. They had bathed already and were having coffee in their bathrobes at the kitchen table. They kind of exchanged that "ready, set,...go" glance that adults do when they are ready to meet the teenager head-on as a united front with some pre-determined battle plan. The first thing that crossed my mind was that i was in some kind of huge trouble..."like i really need this shit right now" is what ran through my conciousness.

Susan hopped up with a cheery "good morning sleepyhead!" and poured me a cup of coffee. They were tripping over each other waiting on me. Patricia got the sugar for my coffee, & some cereal and milk. Susan got me some toaster waffles, and even got out the butter and honey. Now i definitely knew something screwy was going on, because they never did that. Oh sure, they would get me things if i was sick (chicken noodle soup & ginger ale), but never, ever on a regular morning. It was a shame that i wasn't really that hungry.

Aunt Patricia rather started off by saying rather matter of factly "Susan told me that she took you to the doctor and that you were pretty upset by the whole experience. I called Dr Steph myself, because I love you very much, and I wanted to hear what she had to say about the whole thing. She explained your condition to me..." I interrupted saying "She calls it a 'condition' huh? i guess that's a polite word for deformity." My sweet aunt tried to be the firm but tender adult, to my ranting teenager "Take it easy honey. Dr Steph said that it's very lucky that Susan brought you to her." I was crying now and sobbed "yeah, lucky for her, she discovered a circus freak to make her famous in all the medical journals."

"Stop interrupting and look at me. I'm trying to explain something complicated, and I'm not very good at that, so behave and at least pay attention." I took my face out of my hands and saw the pained look on Patricia's face. Susan handed me a table napkin to dry my tears. "Dr Steph is a good doctor and a kind lady. She is not interested in causing you any trouble or unecessary pain. I have no doubt of that, and you trust me don't you?" I nodded. "Well the doctor explained it to me this way. You might have an extra female chromosome or you may have a hormonal imbalance, you didn't do anything wrong and you are not in trouble. She doesn't know what caused this imbalance, it might have happened even before you were born, or you might have had a glandular infection when you were a baby. She doesn't know, but she is determined to find out, and help you so that you can live a happy life. Listen to me honey...She also said that you every good reason to want to dress as a girl, she went on to tell me that she might even expect you to want to be a girl." She paused for a second and took a deep breath. "In light of what the doctor told me, Susan and I discussed it, and we've decided that it's a bit silly that you don't have a girl's name. You pretty much are a girl, and when we talk to you in front of customers they would react so strangely when we call you by that other name. You don't like it anyway do you?" I shook my head no & looked at Susan. She had such a kind smile for me.

"I was pregnant for a third time when I was married to your Uncle Asshole. I really really wanted a girl that time, but I had a miscarriage. God, I was so sad. I was going to name her Margaret. It was your Great Aunt's name. That was your Grandma's sister...way back in Ireland. Her nickname was Peggy and your Grandma always told me what a sweet girl she was and how much she missed her. Would you mind terribly if i started calling you Peggy?" I said "I think i would love it! Thank you so much Patricia." I felt a little better, i even took a sip of my coffee. Susan said "Peggy...hmm...I think it fits you to a tee! I always liked that name too, and I'm not even Irish." We all giggled a little. "I called the car dealership and arranged to be off, so I can take you to your next appoinment with Dr Steph. We'll get dressed up so we can go to lunch afterward, would you like that?" I said that it was very nice of her to offer, but that i would probably feel too yucky to enjoy lunch after a doctor visit.

I felt alot better about things, at least my home life. I was still dreading saturday, i was sure Dr Steph was going to have even more bad news...and she had said there would be another Doctor there. "If it's a man doctor, i'll just die!" I thought to myself...holy crap, how embarrasing. Even worse than that, school starts thursday. It seems as if dread would be part of my life until i got that "right of passage" over and done with. The only things i was good at was home-ec and algebra. Because i had a great teachers for those, Susan & Patricia had taught me! I especially sucked at Gym and English. Social Studies wasn't too bad, could even be kinda interesting if the teacher was good...but that wasn't how my luck was running.

I really hated wearing "boy clothes". It just didn't 'feel right', i imagine that if any guy who isn't trans-oriented went out in drag, he would be pretty uncomfortable. If there are any "chasers" or "admirers" who are reading this, have you ever worn a dress for a halloween costume? That's about how uncomfortable i felt. Like someone in a busy airport terminal with a huge tear in their pants...like one ass cheek is hanging out. So when i set out for the first day of school, i was all jacked up even before i got there. The bus ride to school didn't seem long enough, i had that "oh shit, we're already here" feeling. It was only a half day, orientation, homeroom, find your locker, get your books and that crap, but i already knew that this was going to be a really long year. It was probably my imagination, but it felt like i was the topic of every conversation, but no one was talking to me. Beside that, everybody seemed to be absolutely staring at me. One student did say hi though, the girl with the locker next to mine. Your average teen feels a little relief as soon as they leave the school bldg, i never had that feeling until i got home and changed into my real clothes and got out of that 'boy costume'.

It seemed as if i was nearly always filled with dread. At the beginning of summer, i was already dreading the fall because school was such a traumatic experience for me. Now i had something else to constantly worry about: the next doctor appointment.

Saturday morning arrived and i was literally shaking with fear. Susan tried to calm me, but she was unable to get me to relax. Patricia had gone to work early so she could have an extended lunch and go with me to Dr Steph's offfice. My aunt never learned to drive, it seems strange to us now, but that was not uncommon in those days, some adult women just didn't drive, she always took the bus or a taxi. Susan was going to drive us, so she and i were going to pick her up at the dealership, and Susan would drop us off at the medical building and hustle back across the river to open up the shop for the afternoon. Patricia was waiting outside for us when we got to the dealership, i got out of the front seat and into the back. Again the ride wasn't long enough, and i was more than a little consumed by my fear. I really should have been given a vallium.

When we got to Dr Steph's office, the receptionist was already gone. The nurse let us in, and locked the front door after we came in to keep transients and wrong turn from interrupting my appointment. She motioned for Patricia to have a seat and told her that after she took blood & urine samples that the doctors would see us. She weighed me, measured my height, took my temperature, pulse, & blood pressure, drew about five syringes full of blood, and gave me a small glass of juice. She gave me a small cup and led me to the bathroom and asked me for a urine sample. I bet i had sheepish look on my face when i came out of the bathroom, i wasn't used to carrying around a cup of my pee. She took me to the exam room, told me to disrobe, except for my panties, and gave me a pink hospital gown with the snaps in the back.

I quickly becare aware of how cold i was, just like the last time i was sitting on this exam table, wearing next to nothing. It wasn't very long at all and Dr Steph came in with a smile on her face. "Hello there" she said "I'm not going to be the one examining you today, Dr Ed is an endocrinologist and he's..." I interrupted her "What's an Endo-criminologist?!" "Endo-crin-ologist. It's a kind of Doctor that specializes in the study of the glands and their secretions. They deal with problems that occur when the chemicals in the body get out of balance. Anyway, he is going to examine you while I have a talk with your Aunt. As soon as we are done talking, she'll come in a sit with you while Dr Ed finishes his examination. After that the four of us will sit in my office together, and we'll answer any questions you may have then." She got up and left.

It wasn't even a whole minute when there was one of those 'Tap Tap' knocks at the door and Dr Ed flew into the room like he was in a huge hurry. He was a tall thin man of about forty. He was bald on top, but what hair remained on the sides and in the back was brown. He had hazel eyes and was one of those people who had smiling eyes. "Let's take a look here." He said in a professional tone. He had me stand and face him. "Palms forward & stand up straight." he said. "Please take the gown off for just a second." He walked around me and looked me up and down from my feet to my neck. "Close your eyes, and put you hands straight out from your shoulders...now touch your nose with first one hand, then the other...Okay, you can put the gown back on now, and sit on the table there." I was really cold now, and was starting to shake. "Are you nervous?" I answered, "Yeah, a little, but i'm mostly cold." He replied, "Don't be nervous, I'm not that scarry lookin' am I." I was able to emit the titniest chuckle, but that's about all. I wasn't in a humorous mood. He proceeded with the exam, which seemd to go on and on. He started by shining one of those little flashlight in my eyes, then he looked in my ears & nose with one of those little scopes, then he looked down my throat with the penlight and one of those dry wooden popsickle sticks. He opened the back of the gown and put an ice cold stethoscope in about four places and told me to breathe. He also listened to a couple of places in the front, under the gown "Just breath normally, he said, I'm listening to your heart." He put the stethoscope around his neck again and put both his hands on my shoulders, squeezing them a bit and then told me to lean forward the back while he pushed the opposite way with his hands. "Sit up straight, again." He said and he put his hands in my armpits with his palms inward and lifted a little. Then he kinda rolled his hands toward the front like he was pushing my almost nonexistent little boobies together. "Lay back." He said while his hands guided my back to the cold naugahide cushion covered by a piece of paper. He pushed down and in gently on my hip bones, then with one hand on top of the other he pushed gently on my tummy in about ten different places. I remember he pushed and felt around alot above my pubic bone and in the creases where my hip joints were, and straight up from there on both sides of my belly button. Dr Steph and Patricia came in, and Dr Ed said "I'll be done here in just a minute." Dr Steph sat at the little desk and Patricia sat in the chair closest my head. Dr Ed guided my legs up into the stirrups and fiddled around with my genitals for about one minute, he must have been measuring them or something, but it didn't hurt at all. "I'm done with my examination, you can get dressed now."

Dr Steph rose and said she'd be back in a couple of minutes. She took Patricia by the hand, and all three adults left the room. "Well that didn't suck too bad" i thought to myself. I was finished dressing and was brushing my hair when Dr Steph came back and got me. She led me into her office, and motioned to the only empty chair. "Your aunt says you like to be called Peggy?" Aunt Patricia answered "That's her name." before i could answer. Dr Ed looked at me and said "Well Peggy, when a human being is concieved, what they are going to look like is pretty much determined right then. Like me for instance, because of the genes I have, and the 'codes' on those genes, I was destined to look just like this before I was even born...my hair and eye color, and even my baldness were determined when I was concieved. Do you understand all of that?" I nodded yes. "There is a very distinct probability that your genetic codes called chromosomes have determined that you are supposed to be just like this...the other thing to consider here is that one of your glands is somehow sending different messages to your body. Your glands are supposed to be talking to each other, pretty much all the time, they are supposed to tell your body how to conduct business, things like when to grow and when to stop. They even tell your bones when to get longer."

He paused and then Dr Steph continued. "Those are the two things that we're looking at right now, the tests we did today will tell us more when we've analyzed the results, but there are a couple of other things we'd like to rule out too." She turned and faced Patricia "In the meantime, let's do what we discussed earlier, keep Peggy out of school for the time being, and I'll see you both here on Wednesay at five o'clock." She then looked at me and said "Don't worry Peggy, we'll get this figured out. The most important thing right know is for you to know that you shouldn't worry. We are all interested in your health and happiness. I know that school has been getting more and more difficult because of the other kids. Your aunt & I discussed a study at home program that might be the best thing for you right now."

After we left the office this time, i didn't feel near as yucky as i had before. Patricia and i even went to lunch. I thought to myself "Wow, no school, maybe this might not suck so bad after all!"

Chapter Seven

2009-02-07T07:52:00.000-07:00

I know what you're thinkng dear reader. You have so many questions. Not the least of which is "Did all of this really happen?" The answer to that one is an emphatic yes. I was the luckiest little tranny in Illinois huh? Our finances weren't exactly comfortable, and i was working 8 hours a day when i wasn't in school. But my luck never seemed to turn, i have been so fortunate that i have always looked back at my life and thanked the Lord for how "the chips have fallen." Maybe the old adage that "you make your own luck with hard work" is what determined our providence.

I have looked and looked for a picture of my Aunt Susan, but no avail (so far at least). But i did find a pic that looks an awful lot like her. The shape of her face, (the eyes especially) is almost identical. This could be a pic of her, but trully, honestly it is not.

The Doctor

The newlyweds slept very late the next morning. It's no wonder, i heard noises coming from the bedroom until very late. Mostly hushed giggles and moans. There was no way i was going to able to sleep anyway, i had alot on my mind. Even though i was only sixteen my near future was full of uncertainty. I was mature enough to know that my life might be affected in large part by decisions that would have to be made and soon. Not the least of which was the draft. The war was not only on everybody's mind, it was in their lives. If i was a boy, i would have to register for selective service in less than a year. I loved my country, and still do. I guess i'm unusually patriotic for somebody born with autogynephilia, and i have never taken the sacrifices that others have made for granted. Good people died for my freedom and prosperity. But what was going on in Viet Nam was a mismanaged mess. Some families were financing trips to Canada so their sons could get safely through this terrible time. America was basically a convoluted mess in 1970. The cold war & Viet Nam, civil unrest, riots, burning draft cards and bras, it was all very confusing to a kid.

I was pretty sure that i could legally become a girl. Nobody but Susan & Patricia would be any the wiser. In the pre-computer age there wasn't really any way to keep track of 200 million people, the term database hadn't even been invented yet. If you moved to another state, got a social security card and false birth certificate, you became that person! The only legal documentation in existance was my birth certicate, and that piece of paper was in Colorado.

Another thing that crossed my mind that night was what would my name be? Did i want to choose one for myself? Or did i want Susan and Patricia to pick it for me.

There was also my mom to consider. She was writing about once a month mostly to just let me know that she still cared enough to think of me. Aunt Patricia had called her on the phone twice to tell her about the fact that we had moved and other news like her divorce from Uncle Asshole. We kept her updated on my progress in school etc.

What if i had to go back to my mother? There was almost no doubt that i would have to go home for a funeral or wedding. If i completely became a girl, my mom might just have a nervous breakdown. She would certainly be enraged at the least, she was totally Catholic and would not only be agast at what i had done, but she would want to kill Patricia for allowing it to happen. To expect her to understand was out of the question.

The main reason all of this was reeling in my mind during that night was that i would be getting a driver's license soon. I thought that i would have to choose. It turned out that i didn't have to choose right then. Susan was pretty smart, she 'mentored' me in ways that seemed pretty ingenious, especially for the time.

Susan had a knack with people (especially men), she really knew how to manipulate them into doing things for her. A fact that unerved and annoyed Patricia to no end. It wasn't jealousy, i'm sure it was a fear that Susan would get herself into a situation that she couldn't talk her way out of. Susan's ability to walk that fine line would play huge in our lives. She could coerce people to do things that they didn't really want to. To say that she was a great con artist is an oversimplification, she was much more complicated than that. Con artists are a personality type that just cannot be trusted, by anyone, ever. Susan was very trustworthy to her family and she was willing to con anybody outside our little family if she knew it would do us all some good. You will see several cases of this as i explain how our future unfolded.

Probably the best case in point is that Susan had heard about a Gynecologist who was a closet lesbian. In those days doctors were very careful to stay in the closet because they would lose their practice if word got out. Of course Susan (and my Aunt) started to visit her. Susan was sure that this could really work out in the long run because we obviously had no health insurance and she could basically blackmail the Doctor for free service. Luckily i hadn't needed a doctor since i had moved to St Louis, because this woman was really the only Doctor we had. I had bouts with a cold or the flu, but nothing that required the care of a Doctor.

It wasn't long before we all realized that "The Wedding" had cost us more than we could really afford. When the bills came due at the end of the month, it was really apparent that Susan's paycheck from the cleaners and the profit from our business wasn't going to be enough to allow us to climb out of the whole that we were in. Patricia went looking for part time employment, thinking that she could work weekends and bring in some extra cash. She got a job as a receptionist at a car dealership across the river. That helped so much that we had the debt paid off in a few months, and she kept the job so we could save a little bit each month. Our plan was to buy the equipment needed to start dry cleaning so we could offer that service to our customers in addition to the laundry and alterations. Susan had worked at the dry cleaners long enough to learn that process and knew exactly what machines were needed for an efficient set up.

One Sunday when Patricia was at the dealership, Susan told me that she had arranged an appointment for me to see the doctor. When she went in for her regular check up and pap smear she questioned the doctor about me. I was already getting to be just a little too tall for a girl my age and Susan was wondering if there was anything that could be done about that. Susan informed me that the Doctor had reluctanly agreed to see me with certain restrictions. Susan had assured the doctor that i could be pretty convincing if she helped me get ready, so the doctor agreed to see me if it was the last appointment of the day (she could send the nurse and receptionist home before i got there). Susan was very adamant about this saying "I want to be sure that this is what you really want. If you're sure that you want to continue to appear female, we shouldn't put this off any longer. I haven't told Patricia about this, but i think this decision should be yours...it's YOUR life after all. If you think that there is even a remote possibility that you will oneday regret this and wish to live life as a male, then we shouldn't do this. You are going to have to make a momentous decision here. If you want to pass as a female in the coming years, then you really need to see this doctor." She said that she wanted to give me a few days to think about it, but that i would have to decide the direction of my life quickly because i might have another 'growth spurt' that would preclude my ever being able to live as a woman.

The very next day i decided to at least go see the doctor and hear what she had to say. Susan scheduled an appointment for the following Saturday at 11:45, the last appointment of the day. It felt a little strange being out of the house dressed even though i was with Susan and that was reassuring. I was at least a little worried because i was breaking one of my aunt's 'never ever' rules. The doctor had demanded that i be dressed for my appointment, for two reasons i guess. She wanted to be sure that i was serious about this, and it would seem a little odd to the other people at the medical building if a teenage boy was visiting an OB/GYN. I was pretty nervous when Susan drove into the parking lot of the clinic. Susan told me that if i just relaxed and acted naturally, everything would be fine. The memories of that day are really vivid! I remember what the inside of the elevator looked like, i remember the magazine i pretended to read in the waiting room. After the nurse and the receptionist left Susan whispered to me that they hadn't suspected a thing.

The doctor came out to the waiting room. She was not a pretty woman, but was built very nice. She had a feminine figure that was apparent even under her lab coat. She was a brunette, she wore a pair of those 'cateye' glasses that were popular in those days. Her hair was in a pageboy cut and the aforementioned glasses rested on a nose that was eastern european. She was probably greek or armenian, as the nose was just a little to big for her face. She did have magnificent cheekbones though, i remember that. She extended her hand to me and said "I'm Dr. Stephanopolis...my patients call me Dr Steph for short." She had a nice smile that made me feel at least a little more at ease. "Would you be more comfortable if your aunt waited here? Or do you want her to be with you when I perfrom the examination? I am going to ask alot of questions that you will have to answer truthfully, so if her presence would effect that..." I replied that i would have no problem answering questions in front of my aunt Susan.

She led us into the examination room, and the questions started. It was obvious that she was as interested in the psychology of my wanting to change as well as the physiology of my body. The questions ran the gamut from "Did i really want to be a girl, or just look like one?" to "Do you want to do this to attract men?" She was doing the physical exam while asking the questions. She took my pulse, blood pressure, and temperature. She asked if i had had any serious illnesses or surgery. She left the room for a minute and told me to take off all my clothes and gave me one of those open backed gowns to put on. I became aware of how cold the room was and started shivering a little not only because i was chilly but nervous too. Susan tried to calm me down and told me to just answer the Dr's questions truthfully. I sat on the examination table and shivered some more.

The doctor returned and sat in her little swivel chair at a little desk off to the side of the room and continued to ask questions while referring to a book. She jotted almost constantly on a piece of paper in a manila folder. "I want to be clear about what it is that I can do for you. I also want you to know what I can't do for you and what that will mean medically." She paused for a minute, making a point to smile and make eye contact with me. She wanted my full attention. "What I can do for you is make you look more feminine. I can limit your growth to a certain degree. I can keep the hair from growing too thick on your chest, arms, & legs. I can even possibly help some small degree of breast development." I was really sitting up and listening now...i was excited at the prospect of all of those!! "But I am not a surgeon, and i will never be able to actually change your sex. Your genetalia will always be male. In that vein, the actual function of your male organs may be affected. Do you understand all of that?" I answered "I think so, but what specifically to you mean by my male organs? Does that mean my penis? How will it affected?" She answered "Yes, your penis and your testicles. The medication would surpress any further growth, and the hormonal secretions of your testes would be dramatically reduced." She went on to explain that if i had became six feet tall, that there would be no way she could make me five foot seven again. I explained that being six feet tall and hairy was my worst nightmare. That seemed to be what she wanted to hear, "Well in that case, let's see what we have to work with here."

The doctor motioned for Susan to have a seat up by my head, and then gently guided my legs up into the stirrups. She went to a drawer and pulled out one of those pre-assembled exam trays. It had a pair of latex exam gloves, a small tube of KY jelly, a small specimen cup, and a microscope slide. She mentioned that my penis was a little small, but was within normal limits for a boy of 14 or 15. Susan said "She's 16 years old."

The doctor asked me "When did you last ejaculate?" I said i didn't know what that meant. She rephrased the question several times and determined that i had never ejaculated, not even a nocturnal emission. After about five more very pointed questions she determined that i had never even had an erection.

The doctor said "It's probably very natural for you to refer to the child as she, I observe here a very small pair of testicles, about half normal size. It could just be that you have brought me what is referred to in medicine as a perfect candidate. I suspect that at least from an endocrinologists' viewpoint this child is not male." Susan and i almost simultaneously said "What does that mean?" To which Dr Steph replied "It means that I will need at least one more Doctor to examine you." Susan said "But..." The Doctor held up her hand and said "Don't worry, there will be no charge. I believe that we have such an interesting case here that if there is any charge, I will gladly pay for it myself." She told me that the proceedure that she was about to perform might hurt just a little, but that she would do her best to make it quick. She put the gloves on and lubed her finger with the jelly. She put the specimen cup over the end of my penis and simultaneously inserted her index finger into my tight little virgin butt. It hurt so much at first that i saw stars and let out a little wimper. When the stabbing pain subsided she started fumbling around like she was looking for something. (Which was probably true because most likely she hadn't done this since she was in medical school years before.) Evidently she found what she was looking for because all of a sudden i thought the earth had spun off its axis, my whole body spasmed, and i began to squirt into the cup. It sounded like i was peeing and the cup was filling rather rapidly. I heard the doctor say "Oh my." I thought i had peed and started to apologize. "Oh no honey, that's what i wanted to happen, you didn't pee, it's not urine." She lifted the cup and put it in the tray. It was half full of a clear liquid.

The doctor stood up and said she would be right back. "You can wipe your bottom and put you clothes back on now honey." She took the specimen tray and left, closing the door behind her. After i wiped all the gooey jelly out of my butt, i got dressed. When the doctor returned she said that she was going to confer with at least two other specialists this week, and that she wanted to see us the following saturday at 11:45. When i stood, my knees were wobbly, i felt exhausted, confused, and ashamed. Susan put her arm around my shoulder and led me out of the office. When we got in Susan's junky old Ford Galaxy, i really felt yucky. Susan tried to make me feel better by saying "It sounded to me like the doctor thought it is a real fortunate thing that you decided to see her!" To which i replied "Yeah, i'm a one in a million freak, a real medical curiosity!" Susan said "That's not what she said at all, I think she meant she thought she could really help you..." She let that sink in for while and said "Since we're out for the first time as girlfriends, i think we deserve a special treat." She pulled into an A&W drive in and ordered us each an ice cream cone. I sat in silence, my mind reeling. When the carhop returned on her rollerskates i remember that her cute little uniform had made me feel sad for some strange reason. The ice cream did however make me feel a little bit better, but the thought of next saturday filled me with dread.

Chapter Six

2009-02-06T19:54:00.000-07:00

My Best Friend Forever

and

A Very Special Occasion

So i had a new friend that i knew i could trust with my innermost feelings. It turned out that Susan had one too! My aunt immediately noticed that Susan and i were "growing closer" and that seemed to make her happy. Susan really didn't trust me for some reason until she found out "my little secret", but after the day that she caught me we began to get along. Susan had been married too, which she described as "ill advised". She and her husband got a divorce soon after she had met my aunt. When we were alone we pretty much talked about everything. She even told me a few things about my aunt that i hadn't known before.

Patricia was a few years older than Susan, and she usually went to bed before either of us. This was usually the time when Susan and i would have our wispered convesations about everything. We chatted about everything! We would stay up into the wee hours talking about our lives, what we like, and what we hoped for. I of course asked her some pretty pointed questions about what lesbians did when they were alone. She related that it varied a whole lot, but proceeded to tell me that her own sex drive was very strong. She said that alot of lesbians have a relationship not all that different from a man and a woman in that one usually takes the dominant role and the other girl usually takes the submissive or passive role. She went on to say that like any married couple the love and respect outside the bedroom are really more important than what goes on in private, but that if the sex completely goes away, then the relationship is all but over.

I of course was curious to know more about her relationship with my aunt, after all i was part of our little family. It turned out that my aunt was the "wife" and Susan was the "husband", at least in the bedroom. Susan told me that it was like she and Patricia were made for each other, and even though they had disagreements from time to time, that she was sure that they wuld be in love forever. She giggled a little when she told me about their first time, and how terrific it was. Susan said that the main problem in her marriage was that her husband wanted to control her both in the bedroom and otherwise. She had gotten married too young "because it's what everybody does." Initially she had thought that's what she wanted, but over time she came to realize that what she needed in any relationship was to be the dominant one. She said that i was really too young to understand much more than that, but that she would tell all when the time was right.

One night after a couple of months, Susan told me that she had started to carefully find out about how my aunt felt about boys who dress like girls. She said that she wanted to take her time so Patricia didn't suspect that i was the reason for her inquiry. It wasn't long after that when she gave me some of the best presents i had ever gotten. She had hid them downstairs, so we went down so i could open them while my aunt slept. When i opened the boxes one at a time, i was more excited with each gift. She had litterly bought me two complete outfits with everything i would need. One was a lemon yellow blouse with a pastel green pleated skirt and a pair of penny loafers (which were a unisex item in those days). The other outfit was evidently supposed to make me look and feel a little older and more provacative. It was a black velvet dress with a button up bodice, it had detachable pink cuffs and collar. Over the next few months she got me: several bra & panty sets, two garter belts, some very expensive seamed stockings, a starter make-up kit (it was evidently for teens as it had Cheryl Tiegs on the box it came in), and matching black patent leather 3 inch heels and purse. The purse was really more of a clutch as it had no handle. It seemed that once a week, she would give me another present, some pantyhose, perfume, or a piece of costume jewelry.

I was starting to wonder how she was paying for all of this stuff. I felt guilty because i knew she couldn't afford it. "You know that i'm not being ungrateful, but you have spent way to much for all these presents. I love them all so much, but..." She put her index finger up my mouth, (vertically as if to say sshhh!) "I didn't pay for any of this. All I have to do is bat my eyelashes at my boss, and he takes me shopping! I'll probably have to give him a handjob someday in return" she laughed. I hugged her and thanked her. "It's the least I can do for my best friend and favorite niece!!" It felt so good when she called me that!

I remember it was early September and i was really dreading having to go back to school when we were sitting down to a rare treat. We were all going to have dinner together. Susan usually worked until 7 pm at the cleaners, so she usually ate when she got home around 8. Patricia and i usually ate earlier. Our dinners were hardly ever anything extravagant, but this night was something special. We not only had roast beef and mashed potatoes, but a vegetable and a salad...we even had bread with real butter. I could tell that this was really a special occasion because my aunt had left the shop during the day just to go to the grocery for this one dinner.

Susan had even brought home a sixpack of beer to go with the meal.

My aunt rather seriously started the dinner conversation: "Susan and i have been talking alot lately about how you are getting older and are now able to understand some things that you may not have been ready to hear when we all moved in here together. I realize that you probably know this by now, but we thought it silly to continue on as if you were a small child. Maybe the best way for me to get this out in the open is for me to just say it. Susan and I are more than just best friends, we have been lovers ever since your uncle left." When i looked at her and smiled, she seemed eminently relieved. She took another drink of her beer which was evidently giving her a little liquid courage. "Susan and i have decided that since this is a great occasion that we should not only have a special meal, but that we should also comemorate this day in a special way. Patricia went into the bedroom, (while she was gone Susan smiled and slipped me a little ring box), and when she came back she had a piece of paper. It said:

Be It Known To All

that on this Date

that Patricia Jean Tucker

and

Susan Evelyn DeMange

ARE HEREBY MARRIED

and Promise to Love Each Other From this Day Forward

Signed:_________________________________________________________

_________________________________________________________

Witness and Officiating:_____________________________________________

September 4, 1970

They both signed the paper and had me sign where it said "witness and officiating". It was typewritten on the Smith-Corona that we had in office down in the shop. I aksed "What's 'officiating' mean?" Susan said "We can't get married in a church by a Priest, we aren't allowed to be married by a judge at city hall, they wouldn't even let us go to a justice of the peace. So we're gonna do something better than any of that..." Patricia interjected "We can't think of anyone in the whole world who deserves to marry us more than you. We both love you so much and would be happy if you would do it for us."

We all stood up and Susan handed me another piece of paper with what they wanted me to say typewritten on it (I still have the "marriage certificate", but the other piece of paper with the vows on it was lost somewhere). It said something like:

Patricia do you promise to Love Honor and respect Susan

for the rest of Your Life?

(PAUSE)

And Susan do You take Patricia for your Wife to Have and to Hold

from this day forward for the rest of your life?

(Pause)

I now pronounce you a MARRIED Couple

(hand me the ring now, it's a surprise)

You may kiss the bride.

They held a bible between them while i recited what was on the paper. Patricia was really very surprised when Susan held lifted her hand toward me and i put the little ring box in it. They handed me the bible after i said "you may kiss the bride". It was the first time i saw them kiss, it was wonderful. They held hands when they walked back to the table, and Susan even held Patricia's chair just like an attentive groom would at a wedding reception. We all kind of cried happy tears for a bit. I remember having a lump in my throat.

Susan said "Patricia and I really wanted to tell you thanks for being here with us. You have really worked just as hard as we have and we not only wanted to say that we owe you a debt of gratitude for the success of our little family, but also that we both love you very much." It was honestly from my heart when i replied "Thank you both for having me, i love you both, and i really like being with you...this is a happy day for me too. I have just gained an Aunt!!"

We finished our dinner, which tasted great even though it was getting a little cold. Susan opened a beer for me too, to which Patricia replied "Well it is a special occasion." We all talked and laughed about our families and how they'd be outraged about a lesbian marriage performed in a kitchen by 16 year old. I took Patricia's hand, looked her in the eye, and told her that "Susan loves you, and Uncle Asshole didn't love you, i really don't think anyone can say that it's wrong." She bent over the table and kissed me on the cheek. Sometimes just thinking of the right thing to say can endear you forever to another human being.

***

I was getting up to gather up the dishes and put the left overs in the fridge, but Susan stopped me. "Oh NO, not yet...the festivities are not over!" She rushed into the bedroom and returned with three wrapped presents. She was so happy, she almost acted giddy when she was carrying the presents into our "living room". The first present was for the bride, my Aunt Patricia. It was a lovely white dress that Susan and i had made as a surprise for her. I hadn't known when i was helping Susan make it that it would be a "wedding dress", but it was kind of a surprise to me too in that it was a 'present from both of us'. It was much nicer than anything we could have ever afforded to buy in a store. The fabric alone had cost alot, and it was hand made, tailored to fit perfectly.

It was Susan's turn to open her present. Patricia had secretly purchased it without Susan's knowledge and wrapped it in private. It was a suit that Susan had admired when they were out together one day. It was a feminine cut, very nice blue wool fabric. She even bought her a black tie and white blouse with a collar to go with it as sort of a tongue in cheek afterthought. Susan said she loved it.

It was my turn, they say that the size of the box that the present comes in is no indication of the value. Well in this case that was certainly true. The box was about 4 inches square, and 3 inches tall, it was wrapped in pink paper with a purple lace bow. Patricia took the box in her hand and before she handed it to me she said "Susan and I discussed this ceremony, and how much we love and trust you. We also discussed this present at length (she made a point of making eye contact with Susan when she pronounced the words). We wanted to share our happiness with you and agreed to get you a gift that would really really make you happy. She handed me the box with a very serious and loving smile. When i opened it, i couldn't believe my eyes! It was the most lovely thing i had ever seen. It was a beautiful watch! The words dainty and understated elegance would describe it. At the time i had no idea what it cost, but i knew it was alot! It is a Piaget, i still have it. I'm told it's worth about $1500 now. Susan said "Look at the back of the watch, it's engraved especially for you." My hands were shaking when i turned it over and read outloud "For Our Niece, Love S & P". "Let's see how it looks on your wrist." I put it on, it wasn't just my first women's watch, it was the first watch i'd ever owned. Patricia said "Well it is absolutely gorgeous."

"Thank you both sooo much from the bottom of my heart...it is truly the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me! But how on earth can we afford it?"

"You have certainly earned it by being such a great kid, working so hard around here, and being so undertanding about Susan and I. I guess you have been very patient with me too in that i haven't been really mentally ready until now to accept you for who you really are. You can thank Susan for pushing me to be more understanding. Susan and I have talked this over for weeks, and there are a few things that I am going to be adament about. You can dress however you like here, that means upstairs and downstairs. Please dress professionally when you deal with the customers...nothing flamboyant...no trashy outfits. AND you are never to leave this building in a dress, the reason for that is your safety. We certainly do not want to see you beat up or worse just because of how you are dressed."

Susan ended the lecture by interjecting "Well sweetie, all of this is cutting into our honeymoon. Would you be a dear and put away the food?" With that she opened the last beer, grabbed her bride's hand and led her into the bedroom. After the door closed i heard Susan giggle...a lot.

more pulp covers

2009-02-06T13:31:00.000-07:00

these old pulp covers invoke alot of fantasies for us gurls don't they?

When i saw this one i had some nice memories! A note to PL: thanks for posting comments here on this blog! To every body else who stops by to read this: Please post at least one comment so i am motivated to keep writing and at least get all this off my chest!

hope you like

2009-02-06T11:35:00.000-07:00

i found these pics and they "tickled my fancy"

Chapter Five

2009-02-04T10:45:00.000-07:00

Chapter 5

Enter Susan

or my life changes dramatically again

I don't know if you are familiar with the "lay of the land" around St Louis, but we had lived in the city proper until we couldn't afford it any longer. It seemes that if we paid the rent, we couldn't afford groceries. If we ate, we couldn't afford to pay the gas or phone bill. Being so young, i didn't let it bother me emotionally, because when you're young you're pretty sure that it will all work out somehow.

Susan began spending more and more time with us. I remember several arguments surrounding our lack of cash, and whenever Susan offered to help my Aunt would inevitably get upset. The situation was becoming critical, as bill collectors started ringing our doorbell on a daily basis. My aunt was very seriously thinking of send me home to my mother, but i desperately wanted to stay. I had become more emotionally attached to my aunt than i had ever been to my own mother. My mom had never had any time for me as she had a house full of other people requiring her attention. We even discussed the possibility of both of us moving back to Colorado, but my aunt intimated that would be really uncomfortable for everyone. She was probably thinking that Susan was all she had, and that she didn't want to be a burden to my mom or Grandmother.

Finally Patricia relented and decided we would "join forces" with Susan to "save expenses". Being a kid, i was excited because i had lofty ideas about what this would mean to me personally. Susan was an attractive woman who had treated me with kindness up to this point, and i thought our living conditions were bound to get better. I was mostly correct in my assumptions. But...

Patricia and Susan started looking around town to find a place that we could afford. Ideally it would have a storefront so that we could conduct our business there as well. They searched high and low on the west side of the river and weren't able to find anything that wasn't so expensive that it would cost us more than the place we were in already. Finally they said that they had found a place that would suit our needs. It was in an old "taxpayer" (you know, one of those old buildings with storefronts on the street level and rundown apartments upstairs). Usually the only access to the apartments is via a door on the side street that leads only to a long staircase up to a long hallway that serves the aparments. Ours was the same except there was also a flight of stairs that led up from the back room of our store to the kitchen of our apartment. By a huge stroke of luck, our "store" was pretty much set up for our business before we moved in as it had been used as a laundry or dry cleaners by the previous occupants. It had a formica counter to greet the customers, laundry taps and tubs already installed in the back room, which was seperated from the front by a partition with a curtained passage. All we had to do was move in.

The only problem was location, location, and location. East St Louis, Illinois was and definitely still is "the wrong side of the tracks". Our store was on Missouri Avenue, to say that the neighborhood was economically depressed would be an understatement. None of the three of us had a racist bone in our bodies. As a matter of fact we were pretty liberal in our views of minorities, especially compared to most white people in those days. Think about it, two lesbians and a tranny are probably going to be very tolerant. The problem in East St Louis in those days wasn't that 95% of the residents were black, the problem was that 95% of the residents of the town lived way below the poverty level. We really had to hustle to get good cutomers, and keep them. Mostly what we did was make sure that all of our customers were so happy that they told their friends.

There was a period of about six months where our lives were pretty hectic. We only had one washer, and a rented dryer. Neither of which was a commercial machine. I was taking the bus over to the west side of the river to finish up 8th grade, all the while being afriad that i'd get kicked out of school for not living in the district. After school finally let out in the spring, we had enough business to take out a business loan. We had a sign made, bought a commercial washer & dryer, and even a professional ironing set-up. We were moved in and getting organized enough to at least feel better about the whole arrangement. Susan was still working full time at her job which was at a dry cleaners on the other side of the river.

Up until now, Susan had treated me okay, but there was a certain aloof quality to our relationship. She was courteous, but not familiar. (I'm looking for a picture of her and hope to find one to scan and post here.) Although her presence in our lives seemed to calm my aunt, we kind of viewed each other as a third wheel. We seemed to unconciously percieve each other as "competition" in vying for my aunt's affections. At least in the meantime she understood my monetary value as i generated at least as much income as i cost our little "family". I remember telling her thanks for rescuing us from our financial woes. We literally would have screwed without her. She only replied "that's nice of you to say." The aloof quality of our relationship was about to change.

The day that my aunt had to go to court to sign the final divorce papers was one that i won't forget. We had had a doorbell installed that would ring both upstairs and in the back room if a customer came and we had locked the door. I knew Susan was at work and my Aunt would be gone for hours, so this was a rare opportunity for me to dress up. Our apartment was a one bedroom, so my room was the living room. I had absolutely no privacy whatever, except when i was in the bathroom. I didn't even get alot of bathroom time, because i was sharing with two women. I locked the front door and ran upstairs delighting in the knowledge that i could soon be a girl even if only for an hour. I wanted to be pretty, and see my own lipstick on a lit cigarette.

I got completely dressed. I had picked out a customer's blue skirt that fit perfectly. I had even curled my long hair and put on as much make-up as i knew how to apply. I was sitting at the kitchen table wearing the blue skirt, a white puffy blouse with a big white bow at the neck, and a pair of my aunt's black opera pumps. I was smoking one of Patricia's Parliament cigarettes and painting my nails a deep red when Susan walked in.

Needless to say my mind was racing about a thousand miles an hour. Trying to think of some excuse. Some plausible reason for being in this condition. I was terribly ashamed and mortified at the same time. Surprised, startled, ashamed, agast, astounded, and most of all just plain afraid! Susan stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me. For what seemed an eternity she just stood there looking at me. Neither of us said one word for what seemed like five full minutes. I'm sure it wasn't really that long, but at the time it seemed the silence had gone on and on. Obviously i couldn't think of a single word to say. I guess the ball was in her court so to speak. I was frozen for so long that my knees started to shake, and i guess she saw the fear start to show. Finally she spoke "Oh honey! Why didn't you tell me? Did you think I wouldn't understand?" A tear of relief made its way out of my eye and started down my cheek. She came over and wrapped her arms around me. It wasn't a motherly hug... it was a caress.

Susan released me from her embrace and guided me to the chair i was sitting in before she came in. She told me to finish painting my nails, but my hands were shaking so badly that there was no way for me to continue. "Here, let me finish them for you." she said. While she steadied my fingers with her left hand she casually painted with her right. She started a conversation that was to go on for quite sometime by reassuring me that she thought it was okay that i wanted to dress up, and that it would be our secret. She swore that she would never tell anyone if i didn't want her to. Instead of asking me a thousand questions, she started off making girl talk and smiling alot which put me at ease. She really opened up to me for the first time.

She told me that she wasn't a hundred percent lesbian, and that she did like men, but just not as much as she liked girls. She told me about her life as a young girl. She had grown up in Moline Illinois, and had known that she liked girls too from a very young age. She also told me that she had a brother whom she loved very much, and that he had confided in her that he felt that he had been born "the wrong sex". She told me that he had told her that he desperately wanted to be a girl. She said that she had helped him dress up, and therefore thought that "it's natural for some boys to want to be girls". That one statement made me feel soo much better. We talked for quite a while about whether or not i wanted to be a girl, or just dress like one. My answer was that i really didn't know, but that it "just makes me feel nice" when i look in the mirror and see a pretty girl. She asked me if i liked girls, and i replied that i thought that "boys are kinda yucky, girls are so pretty, they even smell better than boys." She replied "That's perfectly normal for a young girl to feel that way." I felt better about myself than i had since i first discovered my girly tendencies. She looked at her watch and said "I have to get back to work, but I want you to know a few things. We are going to be much better friends now because I think we have a lot in common. I promise that we will go shopping to buy you some clothes of your own...that way Patricia & I won't have to worry about you borrowing ours. I am looking forward to helping you learn how to look and act like a girl, this is going to be so much fun!"

Before she left, she promised me again that she wouldn't tell anybody, and reminded me to remember to remove the nail polish and lipstick before my aunt got home. She smiled and winked at me and then she was gone.

I didn't know it until that moment, but for the first time in my life i was truly happy! I could be a girl! I even had a girlfriend that i could confide in. There was something in my life to look forward to.

Chapter Four

2009-02-04T08:18:00.000-07:00

Chapter 4

Some Explanation

I imagine that you probably have a bunch of questions running around in your perverted little mind after reading Chapters 1, 2, & 3. Questions like:

What the hell happened at the party?

Where did Peggy's uncle go & why?

What did her uncle mean by "up to your old tricks"?

When is Peggy going to start telling us some really juicey stuff that will make me want to touch myself?

All i can say, is keep reading and eventually all your Q's will be A'd!

After my uncle had left most of the tread from his tires bonded to the pavement in front of our little house, i went downstairs and found my sweet aunt crying on the living room couch. Through her tears she appologized for waking me with all the noise. I acted as though i hadn't heard anything specific. I asked her what was the matter, i desperately wanted to comfort her as she was really the only person in my life that i felt any connection to at all. Her only reply was that everyone had too much to drink at the party, and that she had made my uncle mad. She was sobbing and through her tears said that i was really too young to understand. I replied that she was my best friend and that she could tell me anything and it would never affect our friendship. That part was very true, and she knew it.

"Everyone was having such a good time, it was a really great party. There were a ton of people there, and after dinner a few of us girls were helping in the kitchen. We were doing the dishes and putting the leftovers in the fridge. Mostly we were just drinking and making some girltalk. That's when one of the girls blurted out some bad news: There were going to be layoffs, and this party was being thrown to soften the blow.

"There were about fifty people there to begin with, but about an hour after dinner, there were only about 25 or 30 people left, so the noise level from happy conversation had kind of dwindled. Our hosts put on some music, and a few couples started dancing. Your uncle really started paying way too much attention to some other girl at the party. Evidently she was single and had come to the party alone. When I looked out the kitchen door, I saw your uncle dancing way too close to this girl. He was kissing her on the neck and she was giggling. I wasn't upset because I was jealous... I was embarassed! To think he would do that in front of everybody!"

My aunt started sobbing uncontrolably again. We were sitting on the couch, she put her arms around me and put her head on my shoulder. She cried so long that all her mascara ran into my pajamas. I wanted to ask her some more questions, but it just wasn't the right time.

I found out later that my uncle had not been laid off, but was transferred to Seattle, the St Louis branch was closing. When my aunt had seen what was going on in the living room, she got pretty upset and had gone into one of the bedrooms upstairs with her friend Susan. Mostly my aunt just wanted to be out of sight so she could compose herself. Susan had mostly gone with aunt Patricia to console her. It could have been an excuse to get out of a relationship that had gotten a little stale, but when my uncle found the two women in each other's arms, he acted very upset.

Patricia confided in me later that her relationship with my uncle had gotten pretty cold. Not only had the passion gone, but the love and affection were gone too. She told me years later what my uncle had meant by "up to your old tricks". It seems that when she was in the Navy she had a relationship with another woman. "That was a very different time, and such things were considered to be scandalous. I probably shouldn't have ever gotten married, at least not to him! I thought I could make it work, he was so attractive when he was young. But as it turned out, I just wasn't destined to be a wife and mother. Some girls aren't cut out for all that."

I figured out what she had meant by "some girls". It became very apparent later that my aunt was a true bisexual. Her urges were evidently strong, and although she had tried to persue having sex regularly with my uncle, he had become appathetic toward her. He might have been having an affair with another woman, or maybe he just lost interest.

Over the following years, i found out little by little just how the intricate puzzle of their marriage and what had come to pass that night. Apparently my uncle had found out about his wife's "indiscretions" when she was in the Navy and that's what he meant when he said "up to your old tricks". It seems that my aunt had found some solace in the arms of her friend Susan, not only that night, but several times a week. Susan had apparently been dropping by on her lunch hour while i was at school. I think the picture at the top was taken by Susan.

I later found out that my uncle had filed for divorce on the grounds of infidelity. Patricia didn't contest it because she didn't want the scandal. Consequently she got no alimony. Financially we were pretty much screwed. The monthly rent on the little one and a half story house was more than we could make in 2 months of laundry and alterations, and that would leave no money for groceries or any other expenses.

The term BROKE didn't quite say it loud enough, we were destitute!

CHAPTER 3

2009-02-03T19:31:00.000-07:00

i found these old pictures of my aunt patricia. Wasn't she just gorgeous? i do really hope the reader doesn't end up with a bad opinion of her as she was a very wonderful woman...who really tried to do her best in life, especially considering the economics of her time. We literally had no money other than what we were able to earn. The top one was probably taken about 1958 when she was just going into the Navy (she served in the WAVES). The bottom one was taken in St Louis in about 1968...that's when things really started changing in our lives.

Chapter 3

The Plot Thickens

I wanted that summer to last forever! Can you imagine being that young and being paid to help your beautiful and kind aunt make girly clothes every day? But alas, the fall rolled around and as much of a relief as the end of a muggy summer could be before airconditioning could be, i was really dreading going back to school. Initially i thought it wouldn't be as bad as the previous year, because the "new kid" thing would have passed. But as usual it was extremely awkward because i didn't fit in anywhere. I wasn't a jock, so i didn't fit in with them, i wasn't a brain so i didn't fit in with them, i wasn't black, so i didn't fit in with them. Even though i wanted to be, i wasn't girl, so i didn't fit in with them. I was geeky, dorky, and awkwardly kind of fem too.

My oldest cousin had gone off to college, and the younger one was a senior in high school that year. He didn't exactly help my image when he threw things at me while riding in his friend's car as i walked home. I'm sure he did it to be funny and make his friends laugh. He wasn't really trying to hurt me, but it was humiliating to say the least. The grape juice was the worst! My aunt was really mad, but i didn't tell her it was her son that had done it because he probably would have kicked the shit out of me for "ratting him out".

I was still helping my aunt with the alterations, washing, and ironing after school. She was especially appreciative because i had been in school all day, and still had homework to do as well. It was at about this time in life when i started having some feelings, that i just couldn't comprehend. With hindsight they were normal (well mostly), but with nobody to ask, they were very confusing. I started having some emotional "rushes" that would overcome me. I'm not just talking about the unprompted raging hard-on that most teen boys get. I'm talking crying with out knowing why...although i did have alot to cry about. The other thing that i didn't understand, but learned to enjoy, was that my nipples really started to get big. The truth is that they were driving me crazy! Goodness, i just couldn't stop playing with them. It just felt sooo goood! They itched when i wasn't rubbing them, and it felt so good when i did!

It was getting on toward halloween when my aunt & uncle were going out to a party. They left me home alone because my cousin was out with his friends. Little did i know it, at the time, but i still think that night would be a determining factor in the direction our lives would take. As soon as i was alone in the house, i decided to dress up. I did the most complete job i could at the time, but the effect was breathtaking. When i finished, when i saw myself in the mirror for the first time, i cried. Not because of shame or self loathing, but because i saw the real me in the mirror. I realized the the girl in the mirror was not who i "hoped to be", but who i really was!!! For some reason that i can't explain to this day, i never had any self respect as a boy (or as a man for that matter). But as a girl, and later as a woman i truly felt like i knew who i was and where i fit into the world.

Believe it or not, the above revelation wasn't the only thing that happened that night that would be life changing for me. Evidently it was a really great party even by today's standards. I really didn't understand it all at the time, but i knew the shit had hit the fan when my Aunt & Uncle got home from the party. There was a whole lot of noise. I had been in bed for about an hour wondering why i wasn't born a girl when i was apparently destined to be a miserable excuse for a male for the rest of my life. I could hear my uncle slamming things around and yelling at my aunt. Mostly all i heard her say was "Be quiet you ass, you'll wake the kids." To which he replied "Don't tell me to be quiet, you are disgusting! I can't believe you, you sure are up to your old tricks aren't you? This time, I'm leaving and I'm not coming back." I heard the front door slam, I heard him start his car, and then i heard his tires squealing down the street.

I had no idea what had happened at the party. I would find out in the coming days, weeks, and years, just a little bit at a time...

I never saw my uncle again. He would send his son an envelope with some money and a short note every couple of weeks. After my younger cousin left for college, even the notes stopped. That was the last that i ever heard of my Uncle and his 2 sons.

2009-01-29T17:16:00.000-07:00

2009-01-28T22:57:00.000-07:00

My Story

Chapter Two

Let me see, where was i? Oh yeah...

Aunt Patricia and i were really becoming very close, no body else ever seemed to be home as my cousins always had something to do and my Uncle worked an awful lot of hours. After my 7th grade school year ended we had basically the whole summer to spend together. She was a great seamstress and took in some alteration & laundry work, so she could have some money of her own. I really didn't envision myself mowing lawns in the Missouri (pronounced MISERY) summer heat, so i asked if i could stay home and help her with her sewing. She said "Well i have had to turn away some pattern work lately because I just didn't think I could find the time, but if you were to help..."

So we became not only constant companions, but now i was her apprentice too. She was a good teacher, because she explained everything so well, like how to figure out just exactly how much fabric would be needed to finish a garment. We worked hard that summer, but it was the most fun i'd ever had up to that point in my life. We made quite a bit of money too, enough to buy enough fabric and a patern to make a new "party dress" for Aunty. She even let me help her with the project. My oh my, the vision of her standing there in a silk slip while i helped her make sure that she had all the seams just right before we stiched it all together. She let me pin the hem later, now there are some images that i will take to the grave with me.

Did i forget to mention that she was an extremely attractive woman? The other thing about her was that she always took great pride in her appearance. She put on a clean house dress and wore make-up everyday. But then that's what all housewives did back then.

When the "party dress" was finished, she put it on and modeled it for me. She looked great! She was standing in front of the full length mirror admiring how well the dress fit, when the look on her face changed. She said "Oh my gosh honey, I'm sooo sorry!" to which i replied "for what?" I couldn't imagine what she would need to appologize to me for. "We didn't get YOU anything...you worked just as hard as I did this summer! Come on honey, tell me what you would like." I swear to you, i almost said "a dress just like yours", i came very close to forgetting myself and blurting it all out right then. But i didn't...and i found that i just couldn't tell her i must've gotten a very dejected look on my face, because she came to me and gave me the most tender hug. I told her that there was nothing that i really wanted, and just spending time with her was the best gift i could expect.

She wore the dress to a cocktail party the next weekend. It was a gathering of my uncle's business associates. When she told the other women at the party that she and i had made the dress, she had enough requests that we could be busy for weeks. On the way home she started to wonder just exactly how much money she and i could make if we could keep the orders coming. She told our prospective customers "As long as you can find a simplicity or butterick pattern, we can make it, and it will fit better than any other garment you have!"

It wasn't too long after that cocktail party that i had the idea of making a catalog. I cut out the pictures from the front of all the patterns we had made and pasted them in a book. I also listed the sizes of each pattern that we had in stock. We sold more dresses by just showing the catalog and a few photographs of our work. Patricia was so pleased with me because my idea had worked out so well.

I really wanted to tell this whole story...in chronological order. I know that you are getting bored!!!! But it is really my life story...you wouldn't want me to skip anything would you??

the really sick, twisted, dirty, filthy, stuff is coming!!!

as well as some very tender loving stuff too.

Today is my Birthday!

2009-01-28T17:53:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Peggy's Tranny Place!!

I haven't had a whole bunch of time lately to make an entry, or even finish my profile. If you get anything at all out of following this blog, you owe a debt of gratitude to some of the other bloggers here...most notably:

http://tvfa.blogspot.com/

http://sissycockmilker.blogspot.com/

http://jauniestraining.blogspot.com/

http://tiffanysatin69.blogspot.com/

http://thefreakbox.blogspot.com/

You owe them a debt because i wouldn't have started this blog if i hadn't been inspired by them. I have always been a "pleaser" (a person who lives to give others pleasure), so it's only natural that i would eventually get around to blogging. I luv to share my history as peggy with anyone who is interested, and i used to have tons of erotic trans-oriented art posted on yahoo, so i'll post some of both here.

As you can tell by the other blogs that i follow, i'm facinated and aroused by fetishes. I kind of started out by posting comments on the above blogs...and this whole blogging thing kind of grew out of that.

My Story

Chapter One

As the title of this entry says, today is my birthday! So let me introduce myself to you. My name is Margaret Siobhan Flouncey. My aunt picked out the "peggy" for me, which is a common nickname for Margaret (as is Margie, Margo, Maggie, & etc.). I picked the Siobhan (it's pronounced "Shavonn" as it's a very irish name and my celtic roots run so deep. I won't reveal what year i was born, but let's just leave it at this: I can pass for a woman if i work really hard at it, but there's no way i could ever pass as a "girl". The "coogar" look is what i strive for, and i think i get there if i spend the best part of day getting ready. I never dress flamboyantly if i'm going out as that is usually a dead giveaway, it just screams "CROSSDRESSER!" I really don't care if a salesgirl at a department store knows, but lets face it girls, some assholes out there would like nothing more than to beat the living shit out of a tranny. I try to avoid trouble.

I would love to be able to tell you that dressing wasn't my idea to begin with, as the whole idea of Forced Feminization is something that i just love! There were a couple of incidents very early in my life that could be described like that (will relate those stories later), but my dressing had already become something that was "part of who i am" by the time i hit puberty. I guess i was about 8 the first time i put on lipstick and a dress. Obviously it wasn't a sexual thing at that point, i have no idea what made me want do it back then. This went on for a few years, and it was a very occasional thing, probably less than four times a year. Maybe it was a very natural thing because i literally lived in a house full of women...seven as a matter of fact. There was always something interesting in the laundry hamper!

Then my whole world kind of got turned upside down. My father was killed in accident at work. Even though he wasn't home a great deal, i did get to spend some time with him learning who he really was before he died. Well, at any rate the adults in my family all got together and made a descision that would definitely have great effect on who (what) i would become.

Evidently the thought process was this: Mom would have her hands full both financially and practically raising five daughters even with my Grandmother's help. Besides that there would be no adult male influence to guide me, so the decision was made that i would go to live with my Aunt and her family in St. Louis. At first i was very receptive to the idea, but i was sent there (on a train) in July, and my Uncle's house wasn't air conditioned. OMG was it hot, and not in a good way. My aunt had two sons who were older than i by quite a bit. They were full grown teenagers, and i was "just a pain in the ass little kid" to them. I'm sure they were half the reason that i was sent there in the first place: "he can hang around with the the boys" was probably what they were thinking. But by this time my cousins had their own friends and intereststheir own , and had no time whatsoever for dorky lil ol me. So it came to pass that my constant companion was my Aunt Patricia. She and i became very good friends, and she was really happy to find out that i was willing to help her around the house and in the kitchen especially. The way it worked out was that if i wasn't in school, i was with her. I really missed my Mom, i was of course an emotional mess right then, having just lost my dad and having my existence jerked out by the roots and put on a 700 mile train trip. Being the new kid at school was very hard, as a matter of fact i got beat up so many times i lost count, but Auntie was always there when i got home to be kind. She was my whole world, so naturally i just adored her.

Well as i'm sure you're going to surmise, that my Aunt had always wanted a daughter. She found a suitable (and willing) substitute in me.

Omg!!! I'm a blogger!

2009-01-26T20:25:00.001-07:00

Just a quick note because i don't have alot of time tonite, but i just set up this blog and i didn't want to leave it blank (without a post). Check back soon for pics, more interesting entries, and other fun and sexy stuff!!