Written by Sharon Parsons and edited by Victor G.

16 year old Darren Peterman tries out his older woman disguise and is presented to his little brother as the boy's Aunt Nancy- a 46 year old smoker. Later that day, Aunt Nancy takes her young nephew to the park.

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Chapter 7
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When I woke up Sunday morning, I felt as if an elephant was sitting on my chest. Of course, my heavy breast forms played a big role, but so did my heavy smoking the day before. I looked over to the nightstand to see my elegant-looking Louis Vouitton cigarette case sitting next to the ashtray. Even though my lungs were begging me not to light up, I reached for the case and pulled out one of my menthol Virginia Slims.

I have an image to uphold, I rationalized as I disregarded my body's repulsion to tobacco and lit up. I'm supposed to be a middle-aged woman who's most likely smoked for years. It only made sense that she'd want a cigarette this early in the morning.

The first puff hurt my chest and made me cough. My mother usually smoked a cigarette before getting out of bed and I was determined to do the same thing, if only to follow her lead.

I had yet to smoke a cigarette in public in front of anyone other than my mom, least of all dressed as my older female alter ego, but that was about to change. Everybody would probably be downstairs after I got dressed, including Sammy. Even though the thought of smoking and presenting myself as an adult woman to him was embarrassing, I knew that I desperately needed to introduce him to "Nancy" and just get it over with.

As a boy, I couldn't imagine ever smoking in public. Even the thought of smoking in private while wearing boys clothes made me sick. As far as I was concerned, if guys were going to smoke, they should stick to pipes and cigars. Cigarettes were just too feminine for men. And what about wearing dresses and reading women's magazines? Was that too feminine for men? Of course it was!

All my life, I'd gone out of my way not to look or act like a sissy. That's why I excelled at sports and being a boy. I couldn't bear the humiliation of someone learning out my inner thoughts and feelings. I'd been caught before by my parents in my mother's clothes and it had been horrifying and terrible. I had been so ashamed, it almost killed any thoughts I had of becoming "Nancy." But my deep desire to present myself to the world as a beautiful, sophisticated older woman would not be denied, and here I found myself somehow making it come true.

I was still afraid of being found out, in spite of the complexity of my disguise, but now I suddenly had my parent's support and anything was possible. Their support gave me courage, but the shame still lingered, partly because I wasn't completely honest with my parents and Dr. Girardi. They were just filling in the blanks and I was more than willing to let them. However, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my new life as an older woman would come to a screeching halt if they ever discovered what really made me tick.

The sad truth was that I was doing this for a thrill. The million dollar question was, is it worth it? Apparently, I must have thought so, or else I wouldn't have let my elaborate charade go so far. Right now, it's just padding and makeup and wigs. But it's going to go so much farther than this if I don't put a stop to it.

Is it worth it? I sure thought so last night when I was jacking myself off silly, dressed in my mother's nightgown and smoking a cigarette. Being able to dress and look and smoke like an older woman had thrown my masturbation sessions into an amazing high gear. I was experiencing orgasms that had previously been unobtainable. But how did I feel after that, when I was using the tissues at my bedside to clean up the mess left by my still-teenaged hormones?

What goes up must come down and that's exactly what happens after I have an orgasm. In spite of the amazing climax, I had been overcome with regret and remorse peppered with guilt and shame.

I have a great life as a boy. Why am I throwing away a promising future as a man? I'm doing it for the thrill of course, but is it worth it?

I've been dealing with post-orgasm depression all my life, but the depression and remorse have always been fleeting. My life was a vicious cycle of taboos, sexual thrills, and remorse.

"Nancy" was my chance to put an end to the remorse. With my parents' help and support, I would be able to remove any obstacles in my way. Yesterday, when I glued on my breast forms and nestled them into a silk bra, I felt bad about it because I had other options. Removing those options would remove the guilt. The same held true for my developing smoking habit. I felt bad about a smoking because I knew I had an option. Addiction - the same kind of addiction to nicotine a middle-aged woman like "Nancy" would have - would remove the option, which is why I forced myself to smoke a second cigarette before getting out of bed.

Just like my mom, I thought as I removed a cigarette from my case and lit it. My penis stiffened, signaling the end of my remorse. The thought of living the rest of my life as both an older woman and a smoker was more than enough for me. I smiled longingly as I imagined what it would be like to have cushiony curves all over my body without glueing or strapping them on. I couldn't wait for my hair to grow out so that I could get rid of my wig.

I imagined moving out and getting a place of my own. I vowed to always look my best whether I was cleaning the house or hanging out with my older female friends. I didn't see myself dating because I thought that just being "Nancy" would be enough for me. The idea of being a middle-aged woman and taking care of a family was very appealing to me and something I frequently fantasized about. But it wasn't realistic and I didn't truly need it. Feeling and looking like an older woman and smoking like one was good enough.

*******

I was quite hungry and thirsty but I wasn't about to go downstairs without "Nancy" being in place. I slipped out of my nightgown and took a long, hot, luxurious bath using some sensuous bath salts we'd bought at the mall. I smiled as the water caressed my silky smooth skin. It felt oh so good!

After I was done with my bath, I dried off and wrapped a couple of towels around me. One around my torso, and one around my head in a most feminine manner. Making sure I was completely dry, I sat down at the ornate vanity my father - Bill, who was now my "brother" - had put in my room yesterday while I was out shopping with my mom.

I clicked on the lighted makeup mirror siiting atop the vanity and studied my face. I saw my thin, arched, very feminine-looking eyebrows and sighed. They helped make me look very much like a teenaged girl. At least my latex wrinkles and heavy makeup will make me appear decades older, I reassured myself. However, tomorrow at school I'm going to catch hell for these brows.

No matter, I told myself as I picked up the first latex piece that Brenda had given us and gently applied it at the corners of my right eye. As the adhesive dried and I started working on my left eye, I tried not to grin at the crow's feet they gave me. They made me look so much older. I loved it! I next worked on my mouth, giving myself some slight "age lines" but nothing too extreme. Just enough to make me look like I was in my mid-40s.

I was then ready for my makeup. I picked up a nylon wig cap and slid it over my head, tucking any stray hairs beneath it. I was about to start on my foundation when there was a knock at my bedroom door.

"Nancy?" my mom - Karen- asked, "Are you awake?"

I cleared my throat and used my best "older female" voice, one I'd been practicing for some time. "Yes, Karen. Please come in," I said pleasantly.

Mom walked in to see me at the vanity. "I see you've already gotten started."

"Yes," I replied, still using my female voice, "I guess I'm just anxious to meet my little nephew."

Mom smiled sat next to me at the vanity. "And he's anxious to meet you. Confused, but anxious." She studied my face. "You've done a great job on your wrinkles and age lines. I see you paid attention to Brenda."

I smiled. "Yes, but now I'm a little overwhelmed on everything else. WIth my real makeup, I mean. It was a lot to learn. I'm not sure I can do it right."

Mom patted my hand gently. "I thought so. That's why I thought I'd come up here and help you."

I hugged her. "Thanks, Mo- er... Karen. You're the best 'sister-in-law' I could have!"

Mom smiled and picked up my cigarette case. "Do you mind if I have one?"

"Of course not. Please help yourself," I replied. I was really enjoying this, talking to Karen as if she and I were old friends instead of mother and son.

Mom slid one of my Virginia Slims out of the case and lit up. She made a face and coughed. "Oh my God, I forgot these were menthols. I wasn't expecting that. I'll get one of mine when we're done." She handed me the cigarette.

"Sorry about that." I said, taking the cigarette. I took a long, slow, deep drag, then held the smoke in for moment before letting out a thick cone of smoke into the air above our heads.

Mom nodded appreciatively. "Well, you sure act like a woman that's been smoking forever. You're getting the motions down pat. Did you get that from watching me?"

"Yes," I replied, taking another drag. "Well, you and some other older ladies I've studied over the years." I exhaled.

Mom picked up the foundation and a small sponge. "Well, you did great yesterday. You looked amazing and you're really getting the movements of an adult woman down."

"Well, I have been practicing for a while now. It feels so good to be able to do it in public, especially with your permission."

"For what its worth, I have to admit you look more confident when you smoke," she said as she continued working on my face, putting down several layers of foundation. "And your voice, too. I like it. I like the slight huskiness to it. It makes you sound more genuine, as if you've been smoking for a long time."

"Yes, I've worked on that as well," I said, taking another deep drag on my cigarette. "I figured it would be the most important thing if I was going to pull off passing as an adult woman."

Mom finished up my foundation, then went to work on my eyes. "You know, Sammy is pretty confused about all this," she said as she started on my eye shadow. "What are you going to tell him?"

I paused for a moment because I wasn't sure how to answer. I took a final drag on my cigarette and crushed it out in the ashtray.

"Honestly, I really don't know yet," I replied, "Just the truth, I guess. That this is what I want more than anything in the world and that I hope he understands."

Mom nodded and continued to work her magic, finishing up with eye shadow, eye liner and mascara on both my eyes. Then she went to work on my blush and then my lips. She outlined them in a lovely rose color, then filled them in with a matching lipstick. She even repainted my 1-inch long false nails in a color to match. She made sure to explain to me every step so that I could start working on it on my own in the future.

When she was finished with my face, I looked in the mirror and smiled. I looked amazing! Nancy's beautiful, middle-aged face stared back at me. Although I didn't have my wig or glasses on and Darren's slender, athletic teeanged boy's body rested below her face, it was still a sight to behold.

"Thank you, Karen. I love how I look!" I hugged her tightly.

"You're welcome, sweetie. I'll leave you alone now so that you can get dressed. Sammy and your... brother are waiting." She walked out the door, closing it behind her.

I walked to my dressed and pulled out my foundation garments. I pulled on my gaff, hiding away my penis and testicles and sliding it into pace. I pulled on a padded girdle, one that gave me rounder, more mature female curves. I pulled on a bra and, with my large breast forms, had to struggle to get clasps closed, but succeeded after a couple of attempts. I slid on a sheer black pair of control-top pantyhose as well, loving the way they slid up my still-smooth legs.

Foundation garments in place, I was ready for my outfit. I knew it wasn't the season for it yet, being a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving still, but I found my reindeer jingle bell sweat shirt in the closet. I just wanted to see how it would look on me. Plus, it might make Sammy laugh a little, which would help me. I was nervous enough as it was. I carefully pulled the sweater over my head, being careful not to mar my well-applied makeup. I thought it would look perfect with my new pair of women's jeans. I slid those on as well, loving the way they looked over my hip and butt pads. I slipped my hosed feet into a pair of low-heeled slippers and walked back to the vanity. I put on a pair of gold clip-on earrings, thinking that someday I'll get my ears pierced. A gold ladies' watch was secured to my wrist, giving a look of elegance to my ensemble.

I picked up my long, blonde wig and secured it into place with a few strategic bobby pins, covering the wig cap and my short boyish brown hair beneath. I shook my head, making sure the wig would stay on. Satisfied, I looked at the women's glasses nearby. There was one more thing before that, however.

I walked into my bathroom and pulled something out from a drawer, something I hadn't told Karen about. I'd bought them a couple of months ago, just on a lark. It was a pair of colored contact lenses, a lovely shade of green. They weren't corrective, just to change the color of my eyes from my usual brown. I presented Nancy online as having green eyes, and had doctored my eyes to match. Maybe it wasn't a necessary addition to my faux-female identity, but I didn't want any hint of Darren coming through to shatter the illusion.

I gently placed the contacts into my eyes, again being extra careful with my makeup. Once they were in place, I slid the feminine, stylish glasses on. I gasped.

Nancy Peterman, a beautiful, blonde 46-year-old woman, stared back at me. I couldn't see any sign of the teenaged boy I really was beneath. Well-styled hair, perfect makeup, subtle wrinkles, tacky feminine sweater, the feminine glasses, the nearby Louis Vuitton cigarette case with menthol Virginia Slims cigarettes inside, all cried out "middle-aged woman."

And that woman was me!

Breathing deep to calm my nerves, I grabbed my cigarettes and ventured downstairs to present myself to my little brother for the first time as an older woman.

I found Sammy in the kitchen with our parents. He was eating a bowl of cereal while our father read the paper and our mother drank coffee and smoked a cigarette.

Dad put his newspaper down and got up to kiss me on the cheek, being careful with my makeup. He said I looked incredible, which made me blush a little. With a smile, Mom blew a puff of smoke toward the ceiling and told me that I looked adorable in my reindeer sweatshirt. Sammy dropped his spoon on the floor.

"Darren! Is that you, bro?" Sammy asked as he picked up his spoon.

It went against my nature, but I knew I had to act the part. I couldn't let him see me as Darren at all. I smiled, walked over to him and pinched his cheek. "Yes, it's me, dear," I said in my female voice, "But right now, you need to call me Aunt Nancy. Do you think you can do that?" I asked.

Sammy nodded and pointed to the cigarette case in my hand. "Are those real cigarettes?" he asked. "Dad said you started smoking because you're nervous about people seeing you dressed like that."

My little brother wanted to know if I started smoking because I was nervous about people seeing me dressed like a woman. Talk about being nervous. I was stressed to the max and I felt like I was going to fall off my legs. Was I really going to smoke in front of my dad and little brother?

"That's right, honey. They are real and they do help me," I said as I nervously removed a cigarette from the case. I couldn't help but notice Sammy's eyes getting larger as I closed the case and positioned the cigarette between my fingers the way our mother would hold it.

I urged myself to stay calm and look confident as I fumbled for my lighter which wasn't there. "I must have left my lighter in my room," I mumbled to myself.

"Bill," my mother said as he handed my father her lighter. "Be a dear and light Nancy's cigarette for her."

My dad reached over the table, holding the lighter forth. I wanted to scream and run back to my room but I held my ground and did my best to look confident and womanly as I lifted the cigarette and placed it between my painted lips.

I'd seen my father light my mother's cigarettes for her at least a million times and he'd always looked at ease doing so, but he wasn't at ease now. He looked visibly shaken as he tried without success to coax a flame from the lighter.

I did what I'd seen my mother do and steadied his hand with mine. He smiled at me weakly and a flame erupted from the lighter. I moved his hand closer to the end of my cigarette and held it until I was sure it was lit. "Thanks Bill," I said as I released his hand.

All eyes were upon me as I struck the pose of mature confident woman. I held the my cigarette aloft by my cheek and smiled as I exhaled a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. My lungs burned from the abuse but I covered the pain with a confident smile.

Perhaps I was making too much out of it but the stakes seemed high to me. I needed my father and Sammy to see me as a middle-aged woman and a committed smoker like my mom.

My heart fell when I turned to see Sammy grinning an ear to ear. Oh my God, I thought. He's laughing at me. At me, not at my sweater like I hoped he would. My parents noticed it too and my dad asked Sammy what was so funny.

"Nothing is funny," Sammy said. "I just think she looks so pretty! I can't wait to show Aunt Nancy to all my friends."

I bent down and kissed Sammy on the forehead. "Thank you, sweetheart. You made your Aunt Nancy a very happy woman. I'm looking forward to meeting your friends. Will they be at the park?"

"Yeah," Sammy said. "They're all going to be there. We're going to play a game of tackle football."

"Maybe you should play touch instead of tackle," my mother said nervously. "I don't want you getting hurt."

"Oh let the kid play tackle," my dad said. "It's good for toughening him up."

I couldn't help but notice the pride in my father's voice as he talked about Sammy being tough. It was just a couple days ago that I had the best game of my life and he was proud of me then. I wonder if he's proud of me now, watching his son in a wig and makeup, prancing around in a reindeer sweat shirt and smoking a Virginia Slims cigarette.

My ego was granted a reprieve when I felt my mother - Karen, I told myelf; in spite of regressing for a moment with Sammy, they were now "Bill and Karen" to me - squeeze my hand. I saw a proud look on her face. She was the one I was trying to impress and I must have succeeded, judging by her expression.

******

After breakfast, Mom took me aside. "So, are you nervous about taking Sammy out in public without me?"

"No, I'll be fine," I replied, "He seems to be taking it well."

Mom nodded. "Just a suggestion, but you... might want to change clothes. That jingly reindeer sweater might be fun around the house, but it's not be the best outfit to wear to meet Sammy's friends."

I laughed. "No, perhaps not."

Mom smiled mysteriously. "Or their fathers, for that matter."

Wondering just what she meant by that, I made my way back to the bedroom and walked into the closet. As I went through my new feminine wardrobe, picking out a decent outfit, I thought some more about my mother's comment about meeting Sammy's friends' fathers. I hadn't considered that. These men had always seen me as Darren, Sammy's football hero older brother. Now I'd be in front of them as his stylish, sexy, middle-aged aunt. Why not dress the part?

I chose several articles of clothing and draped them on my bed. I gently removed my wig and took off my sweater and jeans, leaving my panty hose and foundation garments in place.

Since it was cold out, I decided to dress for it. I pulled on a pair of black leather high-heeled boots and zipped them into place, loving the way they looked over my legs. I then pulled on a silk half-slip and over that a long, calf-length black wool skirt that showed off my lower curves nicely and went perfectly with my boots. I then pulled a charcoal gray wool turtleneck sweater over my head - again, careful with my makeup - and adjusted it over my voluptuous "breasts." I put on a gold necklace to complete the look.

I secured my wig back into place and put my glasses back on. Wow, I thought. I look fantastic! I look like an attractive, elegant businesswoman, and that's exactly what I wanted to look like. I couldn't wait to take Sammy to the park and introduce more people to "Nancy Peterman."

I walked to the hall closet and grabbed my new long black wool coat. "Sammy, sweetie, are you ready to go?" I called out.

"One sec, Aunt Nancy!" Sammy replied.

As I slid my arms into my coat, Mom walked over. She handed me her black leather gloves, the ones that I always envied. They always looked so great on her hands, very stylish and sophisticated. "It's a little chilly out," she said, "You might want these. They should fit you, your hands aren't that big yet. They'll also help protect those pretty nails. Plus you'll need them while you're in the cold reading this."

She handed me a small paperback book. "You can read it to pass the time while Sammy is playing," she said.

I looked at the cover. "Mastering The Game Of Bridge. How lovely, thank you!"

"I thought you might want to bone up on the game before I introduce you to the ladies," she said with a smile.

I showed my gratitude with a hug. "Oh, hun, thank you so much! I'll read it from cover to cover!" I said.

She pulled back and looked at me with a curious expression.

"I need to tell you something," she began cautiously, "While you're gone, I'm going to make a few phone calls and explain the situation to some people."

"You're going to tell Mrs. Estes and Mrs. Jackson?" I asked, fully expecting that.

Mom paused for a moment. "Yes, but I was also going to tell your Aunt Carol... and your grandparents."

My jaw dropped. "You're going to tell Mammaw and Pappaw?" I said fearfully, inadvertently reverting back to my real voice.

"They're coming over for Thanksgiving," Karen said, trying to reassure me. "I just think this will go a lot smoother if we break the ice over the phone rather than just marching you out there as an adult woman."

I knew she was right, but I still didn't like it. I understood her telling Mrs. Estes and Mrs. Jackson about me, I was going to be part of their bridge group. But I was terrified about my mother's parents finding out. They were very old school and super conservative. On the other hand, Aunt Carol, my mother's sister was a very cool lady. "What about Brian. Is he coming too?" I asked. Brian was my cousin, Aunt Carol's 15-year-old son.

"Of course he is," my mother said. "Did you think Carol would leave him at home?"

I shrugged and said, "No, but I was thinking maybe he'd spend Thanksgiving with his father this year." My Aunt Carol and Uncle Tony had gotten a divorce two years earlier.

"Sorry, girlfriend. No such luck," Mom said. I sighed and nodded.

She put her arm on my shoulder reassuringly. "You know, honey, there's no law that says you have to look like a woman on Thanksgiving."

"I know," I replied, still in my male voice, "But I guess you've got to break a few eggs if you want to have an omelet. Right?"

"Truer words have never been spoken," she said. She pulled a set of car keys from her pocket. "In the meantime, if you're going to drive around town as a middle-aged lady, at least do it in style."

My painted eyes grew wide. "You're letting me borrow your Mercedes?"

Karen nodded. "Why not, Nancy? You can't go around town in Darren's old beat up Pontiac. You need a car that's more fitting a woman of your age."

"But... I'm only 16. I've only been driving for a year now. Are you sure you're okay with it?"

"Yes, dear. I want you to feel fully like the older woman you want to be. Just be extra careful, okay?"ӬӬI smiled and shifted back to my "Nancy" voice. "Of course, hun. I've got my little nephew to look out for as well."

******

Sammy and I walked out to the car, he with his football and me with my designer purse slung over my arm. My boot heels clicked on the sidewalk as I strode with a middle-aged woman's grace. I felt so wonderful, everything was perfect!

I started the Mercedes and rolled down the window down a crack before lighting a cigarette. It was a little tricky while wearing my mother's leather gloves, but I managed after a couple of tries. I took a deep drag and exhaled out the window.

"Seeing me like this must be really confusing," I said, staying in my "Nancy" persona as I carefully backed the car out of the driveway. Driving in heels was an entirely new experience for me, and I was extra cautious.

Sammy nodded. He's a pretty smart kid for being only 11, and by smart I mean mature for his age. Regardless of what he was about to say, I thought he was taking things pretty well.

"Yeah, it is. I don't get why you want to be like Mom," he said.

I took another drag, blew my smoke out the window and said, "I don't think I get it either. I just know that it's what I want and I've wanted it for as long as I can remember."

"Are you still going to play in your football game next weekend?" he asked.

I nodded. "We're playing Henderson. The team needs me," I replied, then considered my words. "Well, they need Darren."

"Yeah. Henderson sucks," Sammy muttered. I laughed in my female voice.

"Sammy, you shouldn't talk like that in front of your auntie." I playfully scolded.

Sammy didn't reply, but stared at the cigarette between my gloved fingers for a moment. "My P.E. teacher says athletes don't smoke and smokers ain't athletes," he finally said.

I self-consciously flicked the ashes of my cigarette out the window crack. I told him he was right and added that I wasn't going to be an athlete for much longer. "I'm done with sports after we finish the playoffs," I said.

"What about baseball? Aren't you going to play this season?" he asked.

"Probably not," I said. "If I start taking this medicine called female hormones, it's going to make my body change. Right now, I can take off my boobs and get rid of my big hips and go to school and still look like a boy. But if I start taking the medicine, I'm going to grow real boobs. I can't play baseball and have boobs."

"I guess not," Sammy said as he turned and looked out the window.

*******

At the park, Sammy ran off to play football with his friends. I sat on a bench not far from Sammy and his friends. I elegantly crossed my booted legs and opened the book my mother had given me. I usually wasn't much for studying, but this was different. I wanted to prove to Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. Estes that I was worthy of their friendship, and I wasn't willing to leave anything to chance. I'd been reading old copies of my mother's women's magazines religiously and had been practicing my walk and my talk. I pulled a cigarette from my case, lit it, and consciously held it the way I'd seen women do as I learned how to play bridge.

"Excuse me. Is this seat taken?" an adult male voice asked.

I looked up from my book to see a man standing in front of me. It was difficult to judge his height because I was sitting down but he seemed taller than me, even in my heels. I guessed he was at least six feet tall. His hair was dark except for around his temples where it was turning gray. His face was clean shaven and he had a strong chin. I tried to place him but I didn't recognize him.

I remembered the cigarette in my hand and tried to make it less obvious even though it was obvious he'd caught me smoking. But who had he caught, Darren or Nancy? I reminded myself that there wasn't anything wrong about a middle-aged woman smoking a cigarette on a public park bench. Unless he knows I'm really a boy...

It took me only a second or two to process all that and I replied to his question using instinct rather than thinking about what I was going to say. When someone asks if a seat beside you is taken, you politely say "No, it's not." That's exactly what I said.

"Do you mind if I share it with you?" he asked.

I had recovered from the shock of seeing a - well, I had to admit handsome - man standing over me but I was still a hostage to good manners. "No, not at all," I said pleasantly. "Please sit."

The man thanked me and sat down. He introduced himself as Tim Moreland. "My son's the one with the blue sweatshirt and red hat," he said.

Ah, he's Tyler Moreland's dad, I thought to myself. He's a good kid, one of Sammy's friends that I liked.

"I'm with my nephew, Sammy," I said as I gestured toward my "nephew."

"So, you're Sammy Peterman's aunt?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm Nancy Peterman," I said, setting my book down and offering my gloved hand. I wondered if it would have been polite for him to shake my hand first.

Even through the leather of my glove, I could feel that his grip was strong and firm. "It's very nice to meet you, Nancy. So, are you visiting from out of town or do you live nearby?"

I had prepared myself for this question and answered it with ease. "I've been doing a lot of visiting lately, but I'll probably move in with Sammy's parents after my lease runs out in the summer. I'm still looking around for just the right place."

"Well, it's definitely a buyer's market. Do you mind?" he asked as he parted his coat and pulled a pack of Winstons from his shirt pocket.

"No, of course not," I said as I held up the cigarette in my right hand.

"It's a bad habit," Tim said as he lit his cigarette. "So, how old were you when you started?"

"Sixteen," I answered truthfully, "How about you?"

"The same," he said as he exhaled into the wind. "The best thing we ever did as a state was to pass a law making it illegal for kids under 18 to smoke and I wish we could have raised it to 21."

"Actually," I said. "It's not illegal for kids under 18 to smoke. They're just not allowed to buy them, so an adult has to do it for them."

"What kind of adult buys a kid cigarettes?" Tim asked sarcastically.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the same kind that did for you and me when we were kids," I said with a playful smirk. I finished my cigarette and stepped on it with my boot.

"If you don't mind me asking, I noticed you're not wearing a wedding ring and you still have you're brother's last name," Tim said. "Does that mean you're not married?"

I smiled gently. I had prepared a backstory for Nancy, and I had an answer prepared. "No, I'm not married anymore. I took my maiden name back after my divorce two years ago."

"I'm sorry," Tim said. "Was it a bad break up?"

"It was but it helped that our daughter, Katie, was in college, so she was already grown. She handled it well."

Tim nodded and said, "You're lucky there. Custody of Tyler was our biggest issue when my wife and I divorced."

"Who got Tyler?" I asked. "You or your ex?"

"She did. I get him every other weekend, so that's why I'm here."

****

For the next twenty minutes, Tim and I talked while the boys played football. I found myself really enjoying our conversation. This came as a surprise, because it seemed as if he and I wanted different things. I couldn't say for sure, but I suspected he wanted a date. I knew I made a very attractive woman, so that wasn't a stretch to assume. I, on the other hand, didn't want a date. I was just trying to pass myself off as a woman about his age. Judging by his flirty demeanor, I had completely succeeded.

A wave of euphoria washed over me as I realized Tim had unquestioningly accepted me as a middle-aged woman. I decided to show off a bit by smoking another cigarette in front of him. I pulled a cigarette from my Louis Vuitton case. I held it up for a moment, and, in spite of myself, raised a feminine eyebrow flirtatiously.

Tim took the subtle hint and offered me a light. My heart swooned as I accepted.

Oh my God, I thought. He really thinks I'm a woman. A real older woman!

I felt blanketed by a feeling of sophistication and mature womanhood. I recognized the feeling as one I'd been chasing my entire life. "Thank you," I said sweetly as I exhaled through my smile. "You're quite the gentleman."

"My pleasure," Tim said as he lit a Winston for himself and pocked the lighter. "Always happy to do a favor for a lovely lady."

"That's so sweet of you to say," I said as I raised my cigarette to my lips.

This must be how it feels for a woman when she's swept off her feet by a man, I thought as I continued our conversation. However, I also knew the feeling was wasted on me because I was really a boy. Not only that, Tim was old enough to be my father. I was sure he'd kill me if he discovered the truth.

Flirting with Tim and leading him on was so wrong, but there I was gently touching his arm, giggling at his jokes, and hanging on his every word. If I was leading him on it was because he was making me feel like a woman, and isn't that what I wanted, to be a woman? Of course I did.

I remembered what my mother said about it being okay with her and Dad if I wanted to date older men. She said as long as I was careful, no one would get hurt. Careful wasn't anything I had to worry about. If I was going to go on a date with Tim, it would be because I wanted to feel what a woman feels when she gets attention from a man and not because I wanted to have sex with him. Even if we did go out, the date would end with us shaking hands- not kissing. Besides, he wasn't even my type. First of all, he was a man and I didn't have the hots for men. Second of all, he was a smoker and I think guys that smoke are yucky. I suppose that makes me a hypocrite, but what the hell, I never smoked as a guy so why should Tim? Shouldn't every guy who wants to smoke wear a dress? I almost broke out laughing as I thought of the world in such a state. On the other hand, it would probably go a long way toward cutting cigarette consumption. Oh God, I'm crazy.

I started feeling even crazier the more we talked because the more we talked, the less yucky Tim and his Winstons looked to me. It was so weird because I knew how I felt about guys smoking and I knew I didn't like guys period. However, I was starting to see how romantic it could be for a man and a woman to share a cigarette after they made love. I knew it could never work that way for me and Tim, but I was starting to see how it could work for other women.

"So...," Tim finally began, "What would you think about going out with me Friday night? I was thinking we could do the dinner and drinks thing, maybe a little dancing."

I couldn't exactly tell him that I wasn't free Friday night, that I was playing in a football game against Henderson High School. Tim would probably be in the stands watching that game. But still, the thought of going out on a date with him intrigued me. "I can't make it Friday might, I have a prior engagement. What about Saturday?"

"It's a date," said Tim happily. "Let's trade phone numbers and I'll pick you up at seven."

I wrote my parent's home number down on the back of one his business cards. I noticed with interest that he was an attorney with a prestigious law firm downtown. So, he has a really nice job. Is that something women noticed?

As Tim left with Tyler, I watched them walk away. Tim seemed to be devoted to his son, and had spoken of him glowingly as we talked. I tried to wonder what kind of a woman wold divorce a handsome, charming man like that.

Then it hit me. A real man had asked me out on a date and I'd said yes. I couldn't figure out if I was more excited or scared at the thought.

*****

"You did what?" Mom asked after I'd told her.

I asked if she was mad at me. "I can still call it off," I said. "It's not until Saturday."

Mom hugged me. "Don't you dare!" she said. "Don't call it off. I think it's wonderful. I'm so happy for you, hun. It just caught me off guard because it happened so soon. I wasn't even sure you liked men."

"I don't," I sad adamantly. "It's not like that."

"Then why did you agree to go out with him?" she asked.

I lit a cigarette and shook my head. "I don't know. I just did. I got so caught up in feeling like a woman that I couldn't say no. I guess it was all the attention he was giving me. It really made me feel good about myself and I didn't want it to end, so I said yes. But I didn't mean it."

Mom took me by the arm and said, "I know this must be very confusing for you, but I'll go out on a limb and say you're excited about, it too. Am I right?"

I felt a tear in the corner of my eye and wiped it away with my finger. "I am excited," I said. "But it feels wrong."

She touched my cheek with her finger and said, "It's not wrong if you really want to be a middle-aged woman. Do you?"

I told her I did and that it was all I ever wanted.

"I know that," she said, "And I think the reason you feel excited about this is because you've always wanted something like this to happen. Am I right?"

"I don't know. Maybe," I said.

"Do you still want me to call Dr. Girardi for you tomorrow and make an appointment?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "More than anything."

****

I woke up the next morning thinking of everything that had happened the day before. An older man had asked me out on a date and I had accepted. My mother had told her friends and some of my relatives that I was in the process of becoming a middle-aged woman. Things like this happen to boys every week. Right?

Of course not. Things like this don't happen to boys every week, but they sure as hell were happening to me. I reached for my first cigarette of the day not because I wanted it but because I needed it.

I'd only been smoking for two days, but I'd smoked a pack each day. I wondered if it would bother me to go to school all day without having one. I didn't want to to school. I had way too much on my mind to be bothered with school. And besides, my eyebrows hadn't grown back. Not that I had expected them to, but still…what would my friends say when they saw them?

****

Before I left for school, my mom gave me some Nicorette gum. She said I'd probably need it to take the edge off now that I was a smoker. Mom was right. I chewed my first piece of nicotine gum right after first period. I was beginning to think I might be addicted already and I wondered if that was something I should be proud of or ashamed of.

It's hard to concentrate on what the teacher is saying when you're distracted with the problems of an adult woman, and I was most definitely distracted. With everything else I had to worry about, I felt my eyebrows were like a target on my forehead. I felt like people were staring as I walked down the halls.

My eyebrows came to a head during 3rd period chemistry class. Charley Conners, a guy on the football team, asked what I did to them. I told him I lost a bet to my mom and I didn't want to talk about it any more. That was good enough for Charley and I prayed it would be good enough for the other guys on my team.

*****

Football practice starts with stretching followed by wind sprints. Needless to say, because of all the smoking I'd done over the weekend, I didn't have the wind to sprint. The coaches gave holy hell over it and the rest of the practice wasn't any better. I remembered what Sammy had said in the car on the way to the park: "Athletes don't smoke and smokers ain't athletes." I had to say at that point I agreed with him and his P.E. teacher.

The first thing I did when I got home was to take a shower and change into woman mode so that I could smoke like one. I only had a few hours, but I was going to make the most of them.

While we were having dinner, Mom told me that she had made an appointment for me to see Dr. Girardi in the morning. She told me that I should dress appropriately, which meant she wanted me to go as Nancy.