Chapter 2: Mistaken Identity
The traffic on the Interstate grew lighter, and Kenny’s mind wandered over some thoughts that had bothered him since he had so enjoyed his experience living as Karen. The idea that he could live as a girl had never seriously entered his mind, even though many of his teenage experiences seemed to place him with girls or women. He slowly came to realize that the only places he felt at ease involved being with females. My God, he said to himself, why is it that I love things like crocheting and caring for people and romance stories? No boy should like such activities.

He had looked on the Internet for information about boys who had such tendencies, learning quickly about crossdressers transvestites, drag queens and transsexuals. What he saw of drag queens and their often grotesque outfits and hairdos frightened him. “I’m not like that,” he mused. Later, in his investigations, he realized there were men who were transsexual who truly only wished to be an ordinary girl or woman. Was he not like them, Kenny wondered?

He was fascinated by the first known American who changed sexes, Christine Jorgensen, largely because of the similarities between himself and Jorgensen in ethnic heritage and their physical shapes, both being slender and delicate. “But that’s an awful major step,” he told himself.

Throughout his high school years, he continued to tell himself that he was a boy who would become a man, marry a woman and be a father. To that end, he made an effort to be more physically active and strengthen his body, but any of his exercise regimens soon ended as the press of school and his activities interfered.

During the summer before, between his junior and senior years, he and Angela had taken to playing games of tennis, which they played quite competitively, though Kenny thought sometimes Angela let up on him to let him win so as not to embarrass him too often. He could not get any speed on his serves, while hers often whistled by him as “aces.” Sometimes other girls from the Service Club joined them, and the games usually ended in giggles.

“You look so nice in your tennis outfit,” Kenny told Angela one day. She wore white shorts that ended in mid-thigh and were pleated so that that flared about as she ran, topped by a white tennis shirt that seemed to accentuate her smallish breasts. She wore her hair in a tightly tied, high ponytail that bobbed as she ran. In her tennis outfit, Angela displayed another one of her positive physical traits, long, shapely, firm legs.

Kenny loved the tennis outfits the girls wore, and subconsciously copied their style, wearing an abbreviated pair of shorts, white shoes and a white polo shirt, with light blue trim. He also tied his hair in a high ponytail, so that it bounced as he ran.

It should have been little surprise one day when a pair of teenaged boys approached them as they played. Kenny and Angela had taken a short break after finishing a set, and one of the boys, tennis racket in hand, said, “Say girls, would you like to play doubles?”

“Girls?” Kenny said.

“Ah no, thank you,” Angela quickly interjected. “We’re just finishing up. We’re pretty tired.”

The boy, tall and trim with unruly blonde hair, nodded. “Sorry, we just thought you two girls played pretty well, and we’re not much better.”

“Thank you,” Angela said. “But maybe next time.”

“Well, that would be nice,” the boy said, and he turned to leave.

Kenny turned to Angela, realizing that maybe she’d like to play with the boys, thinking that perhaps she yearned for a boy friend she never had. “Thank you,” he said, “But did you want to play one set with them? I bet you did.”

“No that’s OK,” she said. “I guess we should go.”

“Really we can play one set. He seemed nice and he’s probably in your class, too.”

“But he thinks you’re a girl,” she said. “How could we pull that off?”

“I guess you could give me a girl’s name for today, like Kathy or Karen.”

“Really?” Angela said. “That’s so cool. You could be Karen. I guess you look the part.”

She smiled, her teeth showing and she instinctively put her hand over her mouth to hide the teeth. Kenny loved it when Angela smiled. Her eyes always seemed to sparkle then.

The boys joined them for a set, with Angela teaming up with Elliot, the boy who had approached her, and Kenny (introduced as “Karen”) partnered with Larry. He was a short, huskier of the two. Both boys were juniors at Catholic High School.

Because his voice might give him away, Kenny said little during the match. Angela explained that her friend was shy and didn’t talk much.

The boy’s skills about matched Kenny’s and Angela’s so that match was both fun and competitive. Larry tended to try to overpower the ball, usually ending up slamming it into the net, or sending out of the foul lines; Kenny’s more timid game consisted of some dinky hits that often eluded the opponents. Nonetheless, Angela and Elliott clearly were superior and won the set.

“Thank you, girls,” the boys said.

“Can we buy you a Coke now?” Elliott said.

“No, we need to go,” Angela said.

“Oh that’s too bad, I’d like to get to know you Angela. We made a good team,” Elliott said.

Angela smiled back.

“Let me call you sometime, OK?” he persisted. “Maybe for another tennis match, or maybe a Coke or something?”

Angela hesitated, but gave in providing the boy her phone number.

“How about you, Karen?” Larry said. “Like to meet again?”

Before Kenny could answer, Angela said: “Oh, Larry, I’m sorry. She has a boy friend.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” he said. “I just thought . . .”

Kenny turned to the boy, saying to him in a soft voice, “It was nice of you to ask.”

“Well, Karen, you a very pretty girl.”

Later in the car driving home, Angela said, “You really had them fooled.”

Kenny was perplexed. “Do I look that much like a girl?”

“I guess so. Especially with that outfit you wore today, and your longhair, tied as it was.”

“I suppose so.”

“And you really did look so pretty, Karen,” she said. “And you do have exquisite legs, really lovely.”

Kenny felt he was about to blush. Did he like that characterization of being a girl? He smiled. He liked the idea.

*****
Kenny thought often about the boys at the tennis court and how they both thought he was a girl. The boys truly wanted to “hit” on both Angela and him, who had been called “a pretty girl” by Larry, his tennis partner. What would he do if he ever saw the boys again? It was certainly possible, even though they went to different high schools. Their city wasn’t that big, and there’d likely be lots of opportunity to bump into them.

The incident on the tennis courts occurred near the end of the summer, and Angela would be leaving soon for the University in Madison, since she had graduated high school, with honors, of course. Kenny would be entering his senior year, and he lamented about missing his friend, Angela. They had never been more than friends, and though Kenny found her attractive, he felt it wasn’t right for him to consider dating her. He realized that his relationship with Angela was that of just being two friends, maybe even ‘girl friends’ since their friendship so often revolved around the activities of girls.

The prospect of actually living as a girl was beginning to sound more reasonable to Kenny as he reflected on his several week stint as Karen at the Shakespeare Summer Camp. He had found the experience exhilarating and liberating; it’s as if his true character had emerged during that period in camp.

*****
Even now as he drove his mother’s car on the Interstate from the Shakespeare summer camp to his home, he realized he brushed his hair back in a girlish swish of his hand. He caught himself doing it several times, hoping that his brother didn’t see the action.

“I must stop thinking I’m a girl,” he told himself.

The fact was that the “girl” on his persona still showed. His hair retained the curls and style in which it had been fashioned for the play and his brows had been trimmed. It gave him a definite feminine appearance. During the weeks at the camp, he had worked so hard on retaining a feminine lilt to his speaking, with its soft tone. Even now, with the play ended, he realized he still spoke that way, prompting his brother to say he sounded like a “faggot.”

“I do not,” Kenny had responded. He had been sincere in the response, since he had worked hard not to sound flamboyantly effeminate, as though he might be considered a “faggot.” Frankly, he hoped he sounded like a girl, not an overly dramatic drag queen.

Finally, Kenny drove the car into their assigned spot in the apartment’s complex.

“I’ll help my sister with her bags,” Sonny volunteered. He then laughed.

“Now, Samuel, I warned you,” their mother said.

“You don’t want me to help, mother?”

“Samuel, of course I do, but just quit treating your brother like that.”

Kenny wished his mother would not make such an issue; he knew Sonny would eventually tire of his name-calling. As he stepped out of the car, he brushed his hair back with a flick of his hand. He blushed, hoping his brother didn’t see his effeminate movement.

*****
“They need you at work tonight, Kenny,” his mother said a few minutes after they returned home.

“What? I can’t work, I’m dead tired,” he protested.

“Mr. Alexopolous called, he’s really short of wait staff tonight,” his mother explained. “He left a message on the machine, saying he’ll add 50% to your tips if can make it.”

“That old skin flint,” Kenny said. “He’ll figure out a way to wiggle out of it, mom. You know him.”

“Well call him honey. I know you can use the money.”

Kenny reluctantly called the restaurant; it was a popular family restaurant for the area, so typical of the places operated by Greek families throughout the nation. It was called “Olympus,” and had columns on the outside, looking far more fancy than the fare offered inside. Yet, the food was always tasty, hot and cheap by restaurant standards. Saturday night was the busiest of the week.

“I’m such a mess, George,” he said to the owner.

“You’ll clean up nicely, dear boy. Can you get here by 5:30?”

Even though it was already 3 p.m., Kenny agreed he’d try to make it. He showered and tried to do something with his hair, which seemed to keep falling back into its feminine mode. Finally he decided to wear it in a ponytail, which many boys did, feeling that would make him look less girlish.

He donned his Olympus outfit, a pair of black pants, which were tight about the hips and upper thighs, and a white shirt, with ruffles down the front. George Alexopolous outfitted his male waiters, of which Kenny was one of only three, in this uniform. The others on the wait staff were mainly young women or high school girls. They wore short, dark skirts and white blouses, with just a bit more trim than the male waiters wore.

Kenny got there on time and already the restaurant was jammed, with families clogging the entry waiting for tables. “There’s a 25 minutes wait,” he heard Lucy Alexopolous, who was hostess for the evening, tell a patron at the hostess podium.

“Great, you’re here,” commented Lucy, who was also in charge of the wait staff, as Kenny entered. “The girls will be tickled pink you could make it. You’re a darling. You’ve got Station 3 and right now Sharon and Anna are handling the station. Let them know you’re here.”

He liked Lucy, who was in his class in school, and suggested he take the job. She had told Kenny that she liked how clean and courteous he was. Lucy was more mature than her age, and easily ran the wait staff with great proficiency. A chip off the old block, Kenny thought, but much nicer than her father, the owner.

Sharon was the restaurant’s senior waitress, having been there since her high school days. She had the hard look of a woman who had lived through many challenges in her young life, already appearing to be older than her age of 30. She was raising two boys alone, and now were both oversized middle-schoolers who demanded a full refrigerator. She was a tall, husky woman who retained her shape in spite of what life had dealt her and was a great favorite among the patrons and employees alike. Sharon hugged Kenny, almost smothering him in her bosom. He admired Sharon, who worked hard and fast and was easy on the new staff, always showing patience as they struggled to learn the job. “Waitressing ain’t for sissies,” she said often to a new staff member who might have erred in some way or have gotten a sharp rebuke from the chef or a customer.

Kenny got brought up-to-date with the status of the orders, and proceeded to the job. Soon it was like he had never left the job for six weeks; he picked up where he left off, as he worked to bring order to the rush of the night. Kenny had worked at the restaurant since the previous summer, and was easily the most hard-working and efficient boy on the wait staff. Mr. Alexopolous had only reluctantly agreed to the six-week leave so that Kenny could attend the Shakespeare camp, realizing if he didn’t agree to it, Kenny would quit and likely easily find another job as a waiter, given his obvious talents at the job.

“Miss, miss,” yelled a customer at his station, a large burly man with an obese wife and two roly poly kids. “My check please, miss.”

It took Kenny a second to realize the man was at one of his tables. He blushed, and though he was in the midst of delivering an order to the kitchen, he paused long enough to dig out the bill from the stack left him by Sharon and Anna, and put it in a leatherette credit card folder to hand to the man.

“Here you are sir. I’ll be back in a minute to take it for you.”

“Thank you, miss, and don’t forget us.”

Kenny was about to correct the man, but by then another table was beckoning for coffee, so he turned and cared for the other customer.

Kenny was called “miss” several more times that night, even though his name card said “Kenny.” One group of older ladies called him over and asked, “We ladies were wondering. What is your real name dear? We’ve never seen a young girl called Kenny before?”

Luckily Sharon was passing at the moment, and interjected, “She won’t tell us,” she giggled. “It must really be awful.”

The woman patted Kenny’s arm, saying “I’m sorry we were so nosey, dear, but you were an excellent waitress. We’ll ask for you next time.”

“Thank you ladies,” was all Kenny could say, before escaping the group.

At the end of the night, as the girls and Kenny were counting up their tips, Kenny turned to Sharon to thank her for intervening. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“I heard those old bitties speculating over what the ‘girl’s’ name really was, and I knew they might ask you, so I kept a lookout,” Sharon said.

“I appreciate that so much Sharon.”

“We girls must stick together,” she said with a wink.

“Do I look that much like a girl, Sharon?” Kenny asked. “I got called ‘miss’ quite a lot tonight.’

“I’d have to say ‘yes.’ I never thought that about you before, but there’s something different about you tonight. I could see how you could be taken for a girl. I hope you don’t mind me saying that, Kenny.”

Kenny was silent for a minute. Finally he said, “No Sharon, I want the truth.”

“I’m very fond of you Kenny,” Sharon said. “You’re a top notch waiter and you work hard and you’re so sweet to work with. But, dear, you seem to have grown feminine since you were here six weeks ago.”

Later as they went to the parking lot, Kenny explained to Sharon about the summer camp and the fact that he lived as a girl — for acting purposes — for a few weeks. She hugged him and said that he must have made a pretty girl.

Kenny blushed, finally admitting, “That’s what every one said.”

“I’m sure we have a skirt and blouse your size here,” she teased.

He giggled. He knew it sounded girlish. What’s happening to him?

*****
By the time he got home from his restaurant job, it was 11 p.m. and his mother and brother were watching “Saturday Night Live.”

“You must be exhausted, honey,” his mother said as he entered.

“It was a busy night, but they were all so happy to see me,” Kenny said, collapsing on the sofa next his mother. His brother was on the floor, half asleep with his head on a pillow. He raised his head to grunt a “Hi,” turning quickly back to watch the show.

“Come sit next to me dear,” she patted the sofa cushion on her right, beckoning Kenny to snuggle up next to her.

Kenny followed his mother’s direction, and moved next to her, and she put an arm around him, pulling him toward her.

“It’s so nice to have my two boys with me,” she said. “I love you both.”

“Oh, ma,” grunted Sonny from the floor.

Kenny gave the boy a gentle nudge with his foot, ask if to scold him for his comment.

“You’re such a momma’s boy, or should I say, girl,” Sonny said.

With that Kenny kicked Sonny harder, but before the younger boy could respond, their mother shouted out: “That’s enough now, you two. I see things are back to normal, now both of you shut up and watch the show. And Sonny, why don’t you sit on my other side, so I could hug you too.”

Sonny only grunted again, turning his head away from his mother and brother. Kenny felt good snuggling against his mother’s warmth. As the show continued on its inane ways, Kenny quickly lost interest, thinking he was again in the arms of Mark Hamilton. How he loved that boy! He yearned for the smell of his body, even the sour, sweet smell that a boy has after a night of sleep. Oh my, how he wanted again to feel the firm lips of that strong, muscular boy upon his own lips. Kenny so loved being engulfed in the arms of her lover, of feeling weak and fragile and in need of protection from this Adonis of a boy. Oh, my to be a girl again!

“Are you crying honey?” His reverie was interrupted by the question. It was his mother, still holding him closely.

“No,” he sniveled.

“You are, dear, what’s wrong?”

“Oh mommy, I can’t tell you. It’s so bad.”

His mother held him even more tightly now, stroking his long hair. She was so gentle and next nestled him head onto her bosom. Now his crying became even more intense, his whole body writhing with tension.

“That’s OK, just cry away,” she said gently. “Your brother’s sound asleep and won’t hear a thing.”

“I’m sorry for being such a cry baby, mom,” Kenny said.

He brought his legs up, curled them to one side, laying his head upon his mother’s fleshy thighs. He felt so comforted.

He heard his mother say, “”That’s OK, dear. I know you’ll tell me your troubles when you’re ready. We love you, dear.” Soon he was asleep.

*****
There were five weeks left before he had to leave to go to college, and Kenny was mainly busy working, waiting tables at the Olympus from 4:30 to 10 p.m., every night except Tuesday. It left little time for any social life, except Angela, home from college for the summer. Kenny spent many of day-times together, playing pick-up tennis games and doing a bit of shopping together.

The year away at school seemed to have a great impact on the tall, gangly girl. No longer was she the gawky teenager, and she carried herself with more assurance. Most of the summer, she wore only shorts, and Kenny thought her legs were truly magnificent. Sadly, Angela’s prominent teeth still flawed the girl’s basic beauty.

“No boy friends, yet, Angela?” Kenny probed at their first meeting after he returned from summer camp. The two had met to play tennis at the local park.

“Only you, Kenny,” she teased. “But nobody from college. All they seem to care about is drinking beer. It gets so boring with some of them.”

“And you’re my best girl friend,” Kenny said.

She grabbed his arm as they walked to the courts from their cars. “We are such good friends,” she smiled.

Kenny and Angela were about the same height and same slender body build. His hair was in a pony tail, as was hers and they both wore white tennis outfits.

“Remember those boys from last summer?” Angela asked.

“Yeah, did that Elliott guy ever call you?” Kenny asked.

Angela blushed. “He did, but I had to leave for college a few days later, so we couldn’t hook up. He said he’d call over Christmas holiday, but I didn’t hear from him. He was nice.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Oh well, easy come, easy go,” she said.

“I wonder if they’ll be here today, playing tennis,” Kenny said. “I hope not, ‘cause I’ll have to act like a girl again.”

Angela giggled. “You sure fooled them. I think that Larry fellow was really hot for you.”

“Don’t remind me.” Kenny, however, enjoyed being reminded of what a pretty girl he looked like the previous summer.

“Well, girl friend, if he’s here, you’ll have to beat him off with a stick,” Angela giggled. “You still are pretty.”

“You think so?” he said, a teasing smile on his face. He did a quick and graceful turn of his body, daintily moving his arms up and flicking his wrists.

“Oh my, aren’t you the cutie?” Angela giggled.

“I’m glad you finally noticed,” he said.

“Darling, I’ve always noticed that. You are my best girl friend, aren’t you?”

Angela had improved her game since last summer, and Kenny, who hadn’t played since then, was a poor match for her superior strength. His serves and hits were still puny compared to her strong blasts, but his own speed and alertness to the game helped to make the match competitive.

After three sets, Kenny was totally exhausted, but Angela still seemed fresh as the two sat on a park bench afterward.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more of a competition for you,” he said, his voice coming out between short bursts of breath.

“You were fine, Kenny, and you’re good in returning my serves. You haven’t played as much as I have. If you’d play more, you’d get better.”

“I suppose so,” but he knew he’d never likely ever be a strong as the girl sitting next to him at the moment.

He looked at Angela’s arms, sinewy and hard-looking, comparing them to his own, slender and smooth and soft, with wrists tinier than the girl’s.

“Larry and Elliott didn’t show up today,” he said to change the subject, referring to the two boys from last summer’s encounter. “Did you hope they might?”

“Oh I don’t know,” she replied. “I guess I kinda hoped they would. Elliott seemed so nice, but that would have been complicated for you. I’d have to call you Karen or something.”

Kenny blushed, realizing that he may even look to be a more convincing girl than he was the previous summer. The idea of this strange boy from Catholic Memorial High School being “hot” for him was so exciting, reinforcing his feelings that he was a girl. His feelings about Larry soon melded into being warm thoughts about being in the arms of Mark Hamilton, as Karen. How he yearned for that!

It was true, he thought. He was thinking like a girl, more so than ever.

*****
Later, Kenny confided in Angela, relating his experiences at the summer camp as Karen, and how marvelous he felt in the role of being a pretty girl. The two had retreated to a shaded area in the park, and were seated opposite each other at a picnic table, which had numerous carvings in its wooden slats, “RL loves EG,” “Ginny and Larry” and similar sentiments. Angela had packed a picnic lunch for the two of them, to be consumed after their tennis match. She even brought along a bottle of white wine.

“People will think we’re lovers,” Kenny said, realizing what it would look like to others.

“Maybe we should be, Kenny,” the girl said coyly.

He looked at the girl, almost like she was out of her mind. The girl obviously sensed Kenny’s reluctance at the idea.

“It’s not such a far-fetched idea, Kenny, is it?”

She reached across the table, grasping his hands, her calloused strong hands holding his slender hands firmly. Her forearms looked like those of a strong young man, his more girlish. How could she feel that Kenny, puny, weak Kenny, might be a credible male lover?

“But we’re just friends, Angela,” he protested.

“Oh Kenny, we’re more than friends. We tell each other everything, and I’ve never been closer to any friend than you. I missed you so much this year at school.”

It was true. Angela was Kenny’s closest friend, but hadn’t the two really been more like girl friends that tell each other their secrets and share activities together? During the school year, the two had shared occasional email swaps and even done several “Skype” sessions.

“Come let’s lay down together on the blanket,” she said, her superior strength pulling him off the picnic bench and onto a large blanket she had spread out next to the bench.

“But I’m so sweaty,” he said, resisting unsuccessfully as she pulled him down next to her.

“So what, I am too,” she said.

He found himself flat on his back and Angela on top of him as she cupped his head between her two hands and began kissing him, her full lips pressing down upon his. The musky sweaty scent of their two bodies filled his nostrils as he tasted her mouth, a slightly foul taste that likely matched his own. Soon their lips opened and their tongues intermixed and their kisses became ravenous.

It was intoxicating him and he grabbed her, his arms engulfing her stronger, slender body and bringing her tightly against him. He felt his penis grow hard and press into her groin as they kissed. Feeling the sinews of her strong back, his mind reflected to Mark and how sweet he felt (as Karen) in the arms of this muscular man. And suddenly he was Karen again, a lovely girl kissing a strong boy. It was overwhelming and he couldn’t help it: suddenly he ejaculated, his warm juices swarming into his tennis shorts and wetting the girl on top of him.

Angela, realizing what had happened, relaxed her kisses, and slowly moved off of Kenny, laying to her side.

Kenny began crying. He was so ashamed, but Angela took him in her arms, holding him gently, stroking his long hair.

“I’m sorry, Angela,” he said finally when his crying ended. “I’m such a failure as a lover. I’m no good as a man.”

“My dear girl,” Angela replied. “My poor dear girl. My sweet lover.”

“But . . .” he started.

“No dear, silence,” she said, putting her finger on his lips. “I love you as a girl friend. I don’t want you as a boy friend. I love how soft and weak you are and you’re so pretty. I’ve always dreamed about you, ever since we first met. You’re the only boy that ever turned me on, and I couldn’t figure it out. I only like other girls, dear, and maybe I pictured you as a girl.”

“But I have a . . .” he hesitated.

“A cock,” she said. “I know it, and I bet it’s pretty too.”

Kenny smiled. It was “pretty,” he had to admit, being not as large as most boys’ penises, and rather slim. Yet, he often wondered whether he liked having a cock. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with love for the girl next to him. She has accepted him for what he was, a girl who still had a few boy attachments. They began kissing again, and Kenny said: “Please call me Karen.”

*****
Despite washing his hair to rid it of its feminine style, and efforts at seeking to act in a more masculine manner at work, Kenny still found himself addressed as “miss” or “young lady” several times a week. He wondered why that continued, but soon recognized that his voice retained some of the inflections that enter the speech of young ladies. Of course, he realized his own slender body and still long hair tied in a ponytail may have contributed to the illusion that he was a girl.

“I have half a mind to put you in one of our skirts, Kenny,” George said one day. “I just received another compliment for the service provided by that young lady named ‘Kenny,’ and they wondered why such a pretty girl had a boy’s name. That’s the second comment I had about you in the last week.”

Kenny reddened, wondering what he could say. So he merely nodded to the restaurant owner.

“You’re such a good waiter, Kenny, that I’d hate for someone to start making a fuss about you,” George continued. “Why don’t you cut your hair?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Alexopolous, but I just couldn’t cut my hair,” Kenny replied.

“I’m not going to ask you, too, but people are beginning to wonder about you.”

Kenny hesitated. “I don’t know what to say, sir, but I only will be here for two more weeks before I go to college.”

Just then, he heard the chef yell, “Order Up Three,” signifying that the meals were ready for Kenny to pickup. “I better get this order, this table is getting anxious, sir,” he said, scurrying off.

“Go,” the restaurant owner said, shaking his head as he watched Kenny move quickly, his steps short and quick, and, he realized, very much like the way all of the waitresses walked.

As usual, Kenny got healthy tips from his tables, and he was always generous in sharing with the bus boys and the hostess. It was one of the reasons that Kenny was favored by the entire staff of the Olympus, most of them so busy in their work that they were hardly aware of how feminine the young man had become. Perhaps it was because he was not overly effeminate in his behaviors and was acting as if he were naturally a female.