One – An Invitation
“Really, Sonny, you could do it,” his sister assured him.
“Tessie, be realistic, I’d be found out,” he protested.
“But you’ve gotta. The girls have been counting on playing in this tournament. It’s supposed to be a fun day, not a real serious golf tournament. We can’t disappoint them, can we?”
“Tessie, you know I’d do almost anything for you, but this is too much. You want me to play in a girls’ golf tournament? They’ll find me out.”
“No they won’t Sonny. We got it all figured out. You can look so pretty and girlish they’ll easily accept you as a pretty girl.”
“Aw, come on. I’m a seventeen-year-old boy, Tessie.”
“Not when you wear my clothes. You look just like me. You’ll easily pass.”
Sonny Warner had to admit it; he was essentially a carbon copy of his nineteen-year-old sister when he put on her clothes. The two were exactly the same height, about five feet, six inches and Sonny weighed only five pounds more than his sister; they both had straight light brown hair, with his only a few inches shorter than hers.
“You know you looked so cute in my golf outfit, Sonny,” she said.
Sonny smiled, recalling the time a few months earlier when Tess got him to put on her new golf outfit with its pink polo shirt and teal-colored shorts. When he was younger, she often dressed him up as a girl when they were playing, always praising him by saying he was such “a pretty girl, prettier than me.” As much as he liked wearing dresses – he favored sun dresses – Sonny realized as he entered his teen years that his dressing might cause him trouble and he cut back on his dress-up times. Besides, Tess began to have other friends and with schoolwork she had little time to entertain her younger brother in prettying him up. In addition, once their mother found out that Tess had been helping Sonny to dress as a girl, Tess had backed off.
Nonetheless, every so often, when the two were alone she’d suggest he try on one of her outfits, and he happily obliged her. Her excuse always was: “Model it for me, Sonny, so I can see how it hangs.” At times, he’d fully dress for his sister, taking a bubble bath to start, putting on panties, breastforms, a bra, skirt and blouse; she would help him paint his toe and finger nails, put on makeup and fix his long hair into a lovely feminine fashion.
When he wore the golf clothes recently, his sister also donned a similar outfit. They posed for a picture, using a self-timer on the digital camera.
“We look like sisters, Sonny,” Tess exclaimed when the two viewed the picture.
“We do!” the boy said.
“I’m jealous. You’re prettier than I am,” Tess giggled.
“I am not, Tessie. How could I be prettier? I’m a boy.”
“No, Sonny, you know you’re more girl than I am,” she insisted.
In looking more closely at the picture, Sonny realized that he indeed may have been the prettier of the two; he also noticed that he appeared to be the more girlish of the two. His slender legs and arms showed little muscle tone, compared to the firm sinews and hardness of his sister, who had always been athletic, even to the extent of being the point guard on the high school girls’ basketball team.
“I’m not,” he repeated.
“Don’t let it bother you Sonny. You’re two years younger and are still developing.”
*****
Sonny remembered that episode as he considered his sister’s request that he become the “girl” who was needed to fill out a foursome for a Country Club girls’ golf tournament, after one of the girls on the team had fallen and broken her wrist. The realization that he looked like a girl both bothered him and excited him.
Two years before, when she was still seventeen, Tess was hired to waitress special events at the Riverside Country Club, easily the most prestigious club in the area. She proved to be a popular and efficient waitress and when she turned eighteen began serving food in the club’s Rushing Waters Lounge.
Her natural beauty attracted the eye of another employee, Juan Garcia, a young assistant pro who mainly taught the children of members the basic skills of golf. Tessie was not above doing some innocent flirting, and soon enjoyed giving the tallish, dark-eyed man a flick of her hip when she was in his eye. He took up the cue and the soon the pair began talking to each other.
“You appear to be quite athletic, Tess,” Juan said her one day.
“I guess I am. I played on the high school basketball team,” she volunteered.
“You may know that for a couple of years now, the club has allowed employees the chance to play golf on Monday mornings, when the club is closed to members. Now, they’ve also agreed to let me give golf lessons to those who haven’t played before,” he said.
“That’s cool, but I’ve only golfed during a day camp program when I was younger,” she said.
“Oh, you should try it again. I bet you’d be good at it,” he said.
She took him up on it and by that first summer’s end – thanks to her natural athleticism and Juan’s personal attention to her – she had learned to hit the ball as well as most of the male members of the club. She also realized she loved the game and its constant demands for perfection. She began taking Sonny out to public courses, where he quickly became a decent golfer, though he still couldn’t hit his drives as far as his sister could.
The following summer, Tess’ solid record as an employee prompted the club manager to ask her to recommend another girl who could be hired to operate the snack shop that served the swimming pool and tennis club area.
“We don’t serve beer or liquor there so we can use a responsible high school or college student,” he told her.
“Most of my girlfriends are busy this summer,” she replied.
“Keep looking or else we’ll have to place an ad,” he said.
That night she mentioned the job opening to Sonny who had been looking around for a job for the summer; of course, she didn’t mention the manager had wanted a girl, thinking that there was no reason Sonny couldn’t do the job. He was certainly responsible, she knew.
“Oh, sis, that would be great to work with you,” he said.
The manager took a bit of convincing that Sonny would be suitable for the job, claiming that most teen boys he knew wouldn’t be patient and friendly with the members’ children that made up the majority of the customers of the snack shop. In the end, he agreed to hire Sonny. After several weeks, the manager found himself so pleased with Sonny that he added on extra hours to work banquets as a waiter.
Spurred on by his sister’s growing interest in golf, he also took advantage of club policy to use the golf course on Mondays, as well as to take lessons with Juan. In short time, he proved to be a quick learner of the skills needed to play the game relatively successfully. While his drives continued to be pathetically short, the rest of his game improved and soon he became one of the best scoring golfers among the employees.
Tess had truly become intrigued with golf and in a short time had become particularly adept at hitting strong drives, almost as long as most male golfers. Juan was able to locate two sets of ladies clubs that had been lying around unused at the club and sold them to Tess and Sonny at a ridiculously low price. Sonny never did learn to hit balls as far as his sister, but he quickly proved to be accurate on his short shots and in putting, occasionally actually beating his sister in the final score in spite of her more hefty drives.
*****
Tess continued to press Sonny to play for the women’s team, stressing that she didn’t want to disappoint Juan. It was Juan who first proposed creating an area-wide golf tournament among the dozen private country clubs in the area. There would be a weekend tournament for the members of each club to compete against each other, with a one-day tournament on the following Monday for employees of the same clubs. Clubs would field both men’s and women’s teams.
Tess was captain of the Riverside Club’s employee women’s golf club. Suddenly the team faced the prospect of having to withdraw when Mindy Sullivan, a club office employee and team member, broke her wrist.
“Please fill Mindy’s spot,” Tess pleaded. “No other girl among the employees plays golf and you could easily pass for a girl. So you could play as my sister, Sonja.” She used the same name he had chosen for himself in their dress-up times.
“What if I get found out?” he protested.
“You won’t, Sonny, but I don’t think it’ll matter much, since there is no money involved. Still, it’s important to the girls.”
Sonny knew Tess’ determination that he play went further than that; he knew she wanted to impress Juan, with whom she had become infatuated. He truly didn’t want to disappoint Tess since she had been supportive as they were growing up. Besides, he considered his sister to be his best friend.
“You know I want to help you, Tessie, but still, isn’t it being dishonest?” he asked.
“Maybe a bit, like a white lie, but there’s no money involved in the event. It’s more for fun.”
“I don’t know, Tessie.”
“It’ll be fun, and the other girls like you and you hit the ball like a girl anyway, Sonny, so you’ll fit in, and how often do you get mistaken for being a girl?”
Sonny blushed, remembering the time when the starter at the public golf course told them, as they awaiting their time to begin their game, “OK, girls, you’re next up.”
Like Tess, Sonny had become nearly fanatic about the game, probably because it was the first sport in which he ever found himself halfway competitive, even if he did “hit like a girl,” as his sister said.
“All right, I’ll do it,” he said finally.
Tess drew him into a strong embrace and hugged him and Sonny found himself excited by the idea that he’d be one of the girls, even though he was frightened to death.
*****
It was only natural that Sonny Warner would consider Tess to be his closest and best friend. Raised by a single mother, the two children had often had to fend for themselves with only the cursory supervision of a next-door neighbor. By the time Sonny had turned eight, Tessie literally became his surrogate mother, walking him home from school and then supervising his playtime while assuring he completed his homework.
The boy had always felt safe with Tess, who could keep him free of the bullies who seemed to focus their attention on him. As a slim boy with skinny arms and legs, Sonny was not strong and was an easy target. His shy, gentle nature made it difficult for him to stand up to the taunting and often he was drawn to tears after even the most mild of torments.
“Look at the little girl cry,” Sonny’s principal neighborhood tormentor, Bobby Jenks, yelled after him one day that summer as he chased the boy home.
Sonny’s experiences in seeking to play outdoors so often ended in such terrifying episodes that he chose to stay indoors. The family lived in a so-called Polish flat in a neighborhood of 100-year-old three-story homes that housed three families, with the cheapest rents paid by those in the lowest level where the Warner family lived. It was constructed so that there were plenty of windows that were high enough to bring in the outdoor light. In spite of the dark sensation that you might get in descending down the six steps from the front walk, the flat actually had a cheerfulness about it that also could be attributed to their mother’s effort to keep it clean and bright.
His sister, forced to forgo playing with her own friends by her responsibility to watch over Sonny, seemed to accept the chore in good humor. She enforced her mother’s rules that neither television nor video games were to be played in the after-school hours. “Both of you do your homework first and then read,” she ordered them.
Sonny found great comfort in reading and by age ten was able to understand adult novels, many of which he found in his mother’s bedroom that had been stored in a box from his grandmother’s collection. He was fascinated by a book called “The Robe” that told the story of Jesus and how Roman soldiers gambled over the robe of Jesus while he was being crucified. He curled up on the couch – imitating his sister’s girlish posture – and spent most of the summer devouring the fat book.
When he had finished that book, his sister gave him Harper Lee’s classic “To Kill a Mockingbird,” which Sonny quickly found compelling.
“Scout is so marvelous in this book,” Sonny gushed to his sister about the six-year-old girl who is the center of the story.
“See, girls can be cool,” Tess said triumphantly.
“I know,” he said, smiling.
Finishing that book, he found an old copy of Jane Austen’s “Emma” from among his grandmother’s books. The arcane language bothered him at first, but he kept at it and was soon enthralled by the young Emma and her hesitant adventures into love and romance.
“You really like books about girls, don’t you Sonny?” his sister asked one day.
He reddened at the realization that his world of fiction – and imagination – seemed to be taking on a strong feminine direction.
“Well it’s all I could find in grandma’s old books,” he replied, his voice taking a hurt, defensive tone.
“What about those Jack London books? I saw several of grandpa’s old books there,” Tess asked.
“Maybe I’ll do those next.”
Sonny knew it was a lie; he would not venture into his grandfather’s old adventure books. He had his eye on another book by Jane Austen in the box, “Pride and Prejudice.” He found his imagination running rampant as he read the books, picturing the lovely young girls in petticoats and flowing dresses, seeing them dancing with their beaus in lovely ballrooms and sitting in a carriage holding hands with a handsome young man. While reading “Emma,” he imagined himself as a young girl all prettied up in the elaborate dresses of the early 1800s waiting for her first date with a boy from the neighboring estate.
The boy rarely played games on his computer; rather, he had become adept of using Google to learn about various topics. Enthralled by his fascination with the fancy clothes of the early 19th Century, he typed in “Victorian women’s dresses” in the search engine and soon his screen was flooded with colorful imagines of the outfits – mainly those multi-layered, full-length dresses that covered a young girl’s body fully.
Sonny wondered what it would be like to wear such outfits, to swirl about a ballroom and to curtsey daintily before a handsome young suitor. He remembered the scenes in the old books of the girls helping each other to dress, giggling about various boys and wondering if they were pretty enough to draw the boys’ attention. Perhaps in a previous life, he thought, he might have been one of those pretty young girls.
He was taken shaken out of his reverie by his sister’s voice: “What in the world are you looking at?”
“Huh,” he said, looking up at her, his face bursting into a bright blush.
“What’s a boy like you care about old dresses?” she demanded.
“Huh? Oh, I just wondered how they looked.”
“You’re weird,” she said. “Well, at least it’s not porn.”
*****
“You need to get out to the club at nine o’clock Monday for a practice round of golf with the other girls,” Tess told him.
“What will they say when they see me as a girl?” he asked, suddenly fearful of the reaction they might give him.
“I think they’ll be in awe. You’re so pretty, Sonja,” his sister said, smiling.
“Sonja,” he said, reflecting on the name. “I kinda like being a Sonja and you could still call me Sunny, with a ‘u’.”
“Yes, and you really do look so bright and sunny when you’re all dressed up. And, you know the girls all like you because you’re so cute when you’re out in the snack shack.”
Sonny nodded. The older women workers seemed to “mother” him, often urging that she should eat more and put on some weight, while the younger women enjoyed his conversation. Sonny felt comfortable with most of the female employees at the club, as if he were one of them.
Though the dread of being laughed at or ridiculed hung over him like a cloud, he couldn’t help feeling giddy over how cute and pretty he might be as he golfed.
*****
Unlike many handsome men, Juan Garcia was friendly and open. He was moderately tall, just about six feet, with a wiry body. Long sinewy sun-darkened arms and legs contrasted with the teal blue colors of the golf shirt and shorts, both carrying the club’s logo discreetly placed above the left breast and near the bottom of right leg of the shorts.
“So glad you could join us, Sunny,” Juan said, reaching out his hand to the boy.
“Thank you, sir. I only hope I can do my share for the team,” he said, finding his hand small inside the calloused large hand of the assistant pro.
“Just relax and have fun, Sunny,” he said.
Mindy, her arm still wrapped in a sling, stood by and smiled, enthralled by the pretty girl who was replacing her. He wore a white skort that covered only about one-third of his thigh, a pink cap-sleeved golf shirt and pink golf shoes with white ankle socks. His brows had been trimmed and he had put on a light blush and gray eye-liner along with a neutral lip gloss; he wore a white baseball cap, and pulled his ponytail through the gap in the back of the cap. He loved how it bounced as he walked.
Mindy walked over and put her arm around the boy, holding out her phone. “Here, Tess, take our picture,” she said. “Isn’t Sonja here like the cutest girl ever?”
“You both are like the cutest!” Tess said smiling.
Just then, Juan approached and gave Mindy a digital camera. “Here let’s gather all the girls together for a team picture,” he said.
After some jockeying around, the four girls, with Juan in the middle, posed on the first tee of the golf course. As they stood there while Mindy readied herself to snap the picture, Sonny felt Juan’s left arm wrap around his shoulders, gently massaging his slender arm; his sister stood on the other side of the young pro and he imagined that Juan’s arm was also draped around her shoulders as well. At first, Sonny felt he was merely demonstrating the camaraderie that comes naturally around teammates, but for some reason the boy felt Juan’s fingers were suggesting something far more sensual and he felt his member growing hard. He worried that the growing erection – even as short as his was – might show.
Finally, after several takes, the picture-taking was completed. Juan told the group to do some warming up exercises while he went to get Slamming Sammy Dorsey, the club’s top professional and onetime tour golfer, who would also work with the girls that morning as they trained for the competition. The plan was to have about a half hour of group instruction on the driving range before embarking on a nine-hole practice round. The four girls were to go out in groups of two, one group accompanied by Juan, and the other by the club pro Sammy Dorsey.
“I don’t know about that Juan,” Sonny whispered to his sister after the young man left them. “I felt his hands all over me it seemed. Did he do that to you?”
“What do you mean? All he did was to put his arm around my shoulder like we’re teammates, that’s all,” she said.
“Oh I don’t know, maybe it was just me, but it felt like he was feeling me up that way played with my arm, even letting his hand wander down my back.”
Tess looked at your brother. “Are you sure? He didn’t touch me like that,” she said.
“Well, it just felt strange, but then I’m new at being a girl. I guess you probably get used to it.”
“No, no, no,” she protested. “Girls don’t like it when guys feel them up, unless of course it’s their boyfriend. He shouldn’t do that, but then you are so pretty he probably forgets you’re a boy.”
Sonny blushed. He was beginning to like the idea that as Sonja he was so enticing and fetching, particularly to a gorgeous man like Juan. He wondered, however, why Juan would feel him up as if he were a girl, since the young golf pro was fully aware that Sonja was Sonny. Hadn’t he instructed Sonny in the training sessions?
“Well, if Juan so much as looks at you again with lust in his eyes, Sonny, I’ll bean him with my wedge,” she said, lifting the pitching club out of her golf bag.
Sonny smiled. “Don’t worry sis, I’m too young for him,” he said.
“Don’t kid yourself, darling. Young girls like you seem to excite most men.”
“I won’t let him, Tessie, since I know you thought he was hot for you,” Sonny said.
“He was, until I got this harebrained idea to turn you into a replacement for Mindy. God you’re enough to distract any man from his best girlfriend.”
“I’m sorry, sis.”
“It’s not your fault. You just naturally make such a cute, lovely young girl,” Tess said, tears forming.
“Oh Tessie, I love you so much. Nobody could have a better sister,” Sonny said, taking his sister into his arms and hugging her.
“I know,” Tess said, clearing her eyes and stepping away from Sonny. “You’re such a darling brother. Now here comes Juan and Mr. Dorsey. I guess we’re going to start our round.”
*****
“I didn’t know you had a sister, Tessie?” the tall, short-haired blond woman queried.
“Well, I didn’t have until now. Let me introduce you to Sonja,” Tess said, introducing Sonny to the two other members of the Riverside team. The girls all had met Sonny during their work, but were clearly startled to see their cute, young male co-worker now appearing as such a lovely young lady.
“My, she’s so beautiful,” Heather Bender said. She was a tall, athletic woman of about thirty years old, with a careworn face, but her sparkling blue eyes and ready smile masked the troubled life she had led as an unmarried mother of two boys. She had been a champion golfer in high school and college until unfortunate affairs with two men ended badly, leaving her on her own with two kids. She had been a waitress at the club for nearly ten years, but had been able to indulge her love of the game on the Mondays during which the club permitted its employees, including caddies, to play.
“Heather is our long hitter, Sonja,” Tess explained.
“Welcome aboard Sonja,” Heather said, obviously playing along with the charade that Sonja was a real female and a newcomer. “I never knew you had such a cute little sister, Tessie.”
“I’ve been trying to hide her from the boys,” Tess teased.
“I can see why. I only hope she can score on the golf course as well as she probably scores with the boys,” Heather said.
Sonny felt his face grow red with the gushing that was going on between his sister and Heather.
“Well she can’t hit the ball very far but she’s dynamite around the greens and I think she’ll do fine,” Tess said.
“I hope so, but I’m kind of nervous since I’ve never been in a tournament before,” Sonny said.
“Just have fun, kid,” Heather said.
A shorter, chunkier woman, maybe the oldest of the group, joined them.
“Maria Lopez rounds out the foursome, Sonja,” Heather said, introducing the newcomer.
She proved to be a quiet woman who said little; her expression rarely changed but Sonny instantly found he liked her. Maria was the club’s hired bookkeeper whose father had been maintenance supervisor for the club; the family lived in a house on the course grounds and she had grown up learning the game and had become an accomplished recreational golfer.
“Pleased to meet you Sonja,” Maria said finally, her stoic expression changing quickly into a warm smile.
“I just hope I can keep up with you ladies,” Sonny said, finding himself at a loss for words.
“Don’t worry about it, Sonja, you know golf is a game you never really can master. Just enjoy the lovely green grass and the trees and the blue skies,” Maria said, smiling.
*****
For the nine-hole practice round, Sonny found himself playing with Heather and Juan. He had wished that Tess would be in his group, but she was paired with Maria and the other golf pro. In the tournament itself, the golf team would be divided into two groups, and each would golf against two from another team. It was to be played on a Monday, and after 18 holes the individual scores of the four golfers on each team would be totaled and the team with the lowest total score would win.
“I think we have a good chance to win,” Juan said, as the three approached the third tee. “I’m so impressed with how far you can hit, Heather, and Sonja, you’re something around the green.”
The two had scored pars on both the first two holes, but Sonny had to scramble by sinking long putts on each green. He was embarrassed by his puny hits, his drives rarely going much beyond 150 yards, while Juan hit his nearly twice as far and Heather – her sinewy arms and legs showing her strength – hit drives of more than 225 yards.
“You’re not a very strong girl, I can see, but maybe we can do something about your swing to give you more distance,” Juan said. The golf pro had been made aware that Sonja was in reality Sonny, and had clearly gone along with the charade.
“I suppose I could work out to build up my muscles,” Sonny said.
The boy had always been ashamed about how weak he was; he tried to play some of the other sports both on the playground and at school, but usually did so poorly that he hated to display his ineptness. Besides, he loved doing stuff with his sister, like dressing up and play-acting and, when he was younger, to play with her dolls.
“Well, let’s try something with your swing,” Juan said. “We’ve got time now.”
Juan demonstrated how Sonny could adjust his golf swing to get longer hits. Sonny watched and then tried hitting a ball as instructed, but failed on his first attempt.
“No, like this,” Juan said, getting behind him and reaching over to place his hands over Sonny’s as he addressed the ball. Juan then guided Sonny in several practice swings. As he did so, Sonny felt the warm breath of the young golf pro on his neck and felt his own bottom being cradled into Juan’s crotch.
“I think I got it, Juan,” Sonny said, growing excited by feeling the warm body of the man who seemed to be almost plastered onto his back. He wondered, too, if he felt Juan’s penis hardening.
Juan stepped away and Sonny took a breath, trying to compose himself.
“Now, go hit two balls and see how you do,” he ordered.
Sonny looked at him, his own face growing flushed. As he did so, he noticed Heather standing at the side of the tee; she had a critical look on her face.
Sonny’s first hit was a disaster; his concentration was shaken by the encounter and he nearly missed hitting the ball. Quickly, before anyone could say anything, Sonny teed up another ball and hit is straight and true, farther than any ball he’d ever hit in his life. It went at least 175 yards.
“There, Sonja, you can do it. Just keep that up and you’ll soon be the top ladies’ golfer in the club,” Juan said.
“Have we had enough lessons now, Juan?” Heather said her voice sharp and edgy.
Sonny immediately felt shamed by the attention he had received from Juan; it was apparent that Juan was favoring him not only because he needed the instruction but because he had been captivated by his soft, feminine beauty.
A few minutes later, Heather approached Sonny; Juan had hit his ball to the right while Heather and Sonny hit to the left. The two girls were together and Heather said in a low voice: “Don’t get too interested in Juan, dear. You’ll just end up in tears. He’s known for going after young girls like you.”
“Thanks. I sensed that,” Sonny said.
“And if he follows form, he’ll suggest giving you golf lessons for free.”
“Well, I need ‘em, don’t I?”
“Yes, dear, but I think I can help you out right now as well as he can. And there’ll be no consequences in the end.”
Sonny nodded.
“You know us girls have to stick together,” Heather said.
“Of course,” he said, smiling to himself, knowing he had been fully accepted as a girl.
(Edited by Eric)
Two -- The Decision
“We want you lovely young ladies to represent the Riverside Club in style at the tournament,” Emil H. “Brick” Walters, the Country Club’s president, said to the girls after they walked into the clubhouse, having completed their practice round.
He was a ruddy-faced man in his late 50s, whose growing girth revealed a life of good eating and the downing of many expensive liquors and wines. Nonetheless, he retained the image of a handsome, fit man, and he apparently knew it. A scion of one of the oldest and wealthiest families of the area, Walters continually sought to be chummy with the staff, as if he understood their lives; of course, he couldn’t.
Heather, who seemed to assume a motherly role with Sonny, recalled a time during her early twenties when she first joined the staff as a waitress when Brick put the “make” on her. “I told him I only liked other girls,” she said with a laugh.
“Did he believe you?” he asked.
“I don’t think so, but I think he got the message. He’s not a bad guy, I guess, and he’s actually been pretty good in assuring that we get a halfway decent wage.”
Having gathered the girls in a side lounge, Brick announced that he was going to have matching uniforms made that they could wear for the tournament. He held up a large picture showing the proposed uniform.
“Wow, I love them,” Sonny said, surprising himself and the others with his involuntary outburst.
“Yes, young lady. They are great, aren’t they? We had them especially designed by the fashion staff of one of our members’ clothing companies,” Brick said.
The others agreed they liked the design. The picture showed a pink cotton polo shirt, with the gold and navy blue logo of the Riverside Club discreetly placed on the left breast. Beneath each logo there would be the name of the wearer. The shirt was sleeveless and had gold and navy piping along the shoulder openings. The beige shorts covered only the top half of each girl’s thighs with gold and navy piping along the hem and each side.
A matching baseball cap (pink with teal piping), teal ankle socks and beige shoes would round out the uniform.
“Aren’t those too short, Mr. Walters?” Maria asked.
Brick looked at the waitress (who likely was uncomfortable with showing her fairly husky thighs, Sonny guessed) and scowled. “I don’t think so, Maria,” he said disdainfully.
Sonny was shocked at the man’s insensitivity.
“I, too, think they’re too short,” he blurted, his voice rising into a high pitch due to his emotion.
Tess looked at him, her eyes telling him he’d made a mistake by alienating the Riverside Club president. Brick turned his attention toward Sonny, his face growing red.
“And who are you, young lady? This is the first I’ve seen of you around here. Juan, what’s she doing here if she’s not a worker here?”
“This is my sister, Sonja. She’s filling in for Mindy, Mr. Walters,” Tess said quickly, hoping to stem the Club President’s ire.
“Oh? Doesn’t that make her a ringer, Juan?” he said.
“No, she works here, Mr. Walters, but perhaps you haven’t seen her around,” the young pro said.
“What does she do here? I can’t imagine I wouldn’t have noticed her before.”
“Well . . . ah . . . Mr. Walters . . .” Juan stuttered.
“You know me as Sonny, the boy who works at the snack shop. I remember serving your grandson on Sunday,” Sonny interjected, saving Juan from having to explain the situation.
Walters seemed puzzled for a minute and then shook his head. “No, we can’t do this,” he said.
“But, Mr. Walters, without her . .. er . . . him . . . we won’t have a team,” Heather interjected.
“No . . . no,” Walters said, his voice growing firm.
“Please, he hits the ball like a girl anyway and no one would think he was anything but a girl,” Juan said.
“You mean there are no other girls on the staff who can play?” the club president asked.
“None, I’ve really tried, Mr. Walters,” Tess said.
“Well I admit he looks mighty cute and pretty,” Walters said. “But, still I don’t think . . . “
“Remember, you called me ‘miss’ when you ordered the ice cream for your grandson?” Sonny said.
“Besides, she’s under treatment for possible sex change. She’s really transgendered,” Tess said.
Sonny was about to protest, since he had only been wondering about whether he was transgendered and whether to consider such steps.
“Is that right?” Walter said, his eyes bearing upon Sonny.
“Um, yes sir. I’ve been feeling that way,” Sonny said, since suddenly such a prospect intrigued him.
“Do all you girls want Sonja or Sonny or whoever this is to play on the team?” Walter asked of the team.
“Yes,” they all said enthusiastically.
“Well, OK, but I’ll have to inform the other clubs about this and if there is any objection, we’ll have to maybe forget playing this time.”
“Thank you, Mr. Walters,” Tess said.
“It’s a bit unusual but I’ll see what I can do,” the president said. “So, now, do you all wish your shorts were a bit longer?”
They all nodded in the affirmative, and Walters agreed he’d have them lengthened a bit, but before he left the room, he walked over to Sonny.
“I’m surprised young lady that you’d object to wearing the shorts. You have mighty pretty legs, my dear,” he said, his hand moving forward to touch Sonny’s arm.
Sonny felt uneasy; the touch seemed to linger a bit longer than it should have if it were merely a friendly gesture.
“I wasn’t thinking about myself, sir. I felt I should support Maria who didn’t like the idea,” Sonny said. He spoke with hesitation, afraid to alienate the president further; yet, his voice showed conviction.
“All right, young lady, if that’s how you want it,” the man said, turning abruptly and charging out of the room.
“What did you say to him, Sonja?” Heather said.
“I . . . ah . . . ah . . . think he was trying to put the make on me,” he said.
“Ah, he’s a harmless old flirt,” the older woman said. “But you should be nice to him since he’s been good about supporting the workers here.”
“That’s fine,” Sonny said, “But he’d better keep his hands off me.”
Heather smiled. “I can see you’re a girl who knows her mind. You’ll do alright.”
As they drove home together, Tess warned him about doing things that would draw so much attention, since it might cause others to examine him more carefully and learn about his deception.
“But I see you have learned what girls sometimes have to endure, particularly pretty ones like you,” his sister said, smiling.
“And I’ve got lots to learn.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I think you’re doing just fine, my dear Sonja. You’re all girl already.”
*****
“I think mom suspects something,” Sonny told Tess a few days later.
“Why?”
Sonny told his sister that the previous night he had joined his mother – as he often did – to watch a late-night re-run of a television show that has a fashion expert turn a poorly dressed woman into a lovely, well-dressed woman, often with the subject fighting the changes. Sonny found the show fascinating, often wondering if they’d ever take a boy like him and turn him into a prettily dressed young lady. He loved sharing the program with his mother since it was one of the few times the two could be together, given the demands of her job.
That night had been warm and he wore a blue tank top and white shorts. As he and his mother laughed about one of the show’s subjects, he noticed his mother staring at him.
“What?” he said to her.
“For a minute, you looked like Tessie,” his mother said.
“Oh?”
“I just don’t understand why you watch this show, Sonny. You’re a boy.”
“Mom, I just like being with you.”
“I know sweetie, and mom’s sorry she can’t spend more time with you kids, but you really do look like a pretty girl, honey. You should do something about your hair.”
His mother turned her attention back to the show and Sonny had hoped she forgot about the conversation. Nonetheless, he realized his mother was right: he was acting more and more like a girl, even when he was in his Sonny mode. He realized, too, he was sitting on the sofa, his legs tucked under him in the most feminine of postures.
He told Tess about the incident and she said, “I guess it’s time to tell mom about Sonja.”
“Must we?”
“Either that, or you’ll have to stop being Sonja and quit the golf team,” Tess said. “I should never have gotten you into that.”
“I can’t quit now. The other girls need me, don’t they?”
“Yes, or else they’ll have to withdraw from the tournament since I doubt we can find a replacement.”
“Tessie. I don’t want to quit. I like being Sonja.”
Sonny began to cry and his sister came over to hug him. He buried his head into her neck and sobbed. He just had to be Sonja, not just for the golf tournament, but forever.
*****
The family rarely shared an evening meal together; often only Sonny was home at supper time, his mother usually working additional hours due to her responsibilities and Tess away either at the university library or chumming with her friends. No one asked him to do so, but Sonny began to prepare the evening meals, usually making a casserole or stir fry that could be heated up whenever the others returned home.
“You don’t have to do this, Sonny,” his mother told him one recent night when she got home seeing he had made lasagna.
“That’s OK, mom. I kinda like cooking. Maybe I’ll be a chef,” he said, smiling at her.
“Well, you’re a darling to do it, but I hate that I can’t be a real mom to you, dear,” she said.
“I know, mom, but you’ve had to be both daddy and mommy to Tessie and me. We both love you, mom. Now sit down to eat and I’ll serve you.”
His mother protested that she could take care of herself, but he insisted, noting how tired she looked. She found it easy to wait to be served.
“This is delicious, honey,” she said after her first taste.
He smiled, and after fixing himself a cup of tea, he sat down opposite her. He had placed a plate of coconut cookies (that he had baked) down on the table, teasing his mother to keep her hands off them until she finished her meal. They both giggled and his mother said:
“Now you sound like the mother,” she said. Sonny smiled, remembering the same admonition he had gotten from her when he was younger.
His mother continued to eat, every so often looking at him with eyes that seemed to be examining him. Sonny became uneasy. Perhaps, he wondered, she had noticed his growing tendency to dress in androgynous clothes. That night, for instance, he wore shorts that could have been donned by either a man or a woman and a sleeveless tee shirt that exposed his slender arms. He had tied his light brown hair in a high ponytail, even though he knew it was a more feminine style, mainly, he told himself, because it felt cooler. The lower-level flat was hot and lacked air conditioning.
“This is so nice, Sonny, being able to sit here with you,” his mother said after she had finished two helpings of the lasagna and began to drink her tea and dive into the cookies.
“I like doing it, too. You and Tessie are my best friends, really,” he said. It was true, he knew, since he had made few friends among other children.
“And I remember how you two used to fight,” she laughed.
“But we played together a lot, too.”
“I know you did. Your sister loves you, Sonny.”
“And I love her,” he said.
Sonny looked at his mother closely. She was smiling at him, but then a frown developed on her face and she turned her face down, staring into her teacup, as if to avoid looking at him. The boy knew something was bothering her.
“Mom, what is it? What’s wrong?” he asked.
His mother looked up, her eyes boring into him. She shook her head.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Her question was actually more of a statement than a question.
*****
Sonny knew immediately what she must be talking about; his mother must have discovered that he was dressing again like a girl, something she had forbidden him to do when he turned nine years old. Before that, she had permitted the two children to engage in the play-acting they enjoyed, usually with Tess dressing him as a girl. “Look mommy, doesn’t Sonny look cute as a girl?” Tess would squeal to their mother.
When Sonny – wearing a colorful sundress – and Tess ran out to the ice cream truck on a warm summer day, a neighbor asked their mother who “the cute little girl” was. That was when their mother put her foot down: “No more dressing up as a girl. He’s a boy and should be out playing ball.”
Sonny had hated to disobey his mother; yet, he couldn’t resist the lure of putting on a dress and perhaps some makeup. As he got into his teens, he used the empty hours at home alone to get into his sister’s bedroom to find panties, bras, skirts, blouses and heels to wear. He was always careful not to damage them and to replace them exactly as he found them. Sometimes, too, he’d raid the dirty clothes hamper to find his sister’s clothes.
One day when he was sixteen, Tess returned home early to find him preening himself before a mirror wearing her favorite yellow sundress.
“Oh, my God, sis. I’m sorry,” he blurted, his face turning a bright red at his embarrassment.
“Sonny, is that you? I thought mom told you not to dress up like this.”
“I’ll . . . get out of . . . this . . . dress,” he blubbered.
“No! No! No! Stay as you are. I want to take a picture of you,” she ordered.
“No, don’t. You’ll just show it around and tell mom. Please don’t.”
“No, I won’t tell mom, Sonny,” she said. “You’re an absolutely beautiful girl.”
He looked at his sister, perplexed as to her reaction. He thought she’d be mad at him for wearing her clothes and now she was admiring him for his feminine beauty.
“Really, Tessie? You think I make a pretty girl?”
“Oh my yes. You look all girl,” she said, smiling.
Tess was angry at him for sneaking into her room and wearing her clothes; yet, rather than tell him to stop dressing up, she said she’d find some clothes for him that she rarely wore and keep them in a special spot in her room for his use.
“But don’t you dare touch anything else in my room, Sonny, or I’ll beat your brains out,” she threatened. Sonny took the warning seriously; he knew she was stronger than he was and could make good on her threat.
Sonny was good to his word: he dressed more discreetly after Tess’ warning, wearing only clothes his sister set aside for him. Together, they had gone shopping and Sonny purchased a skirt, blouse and cute dress, along with panties, bras and a nightgown. They were confident they had kept his dressing their mutual secret.
*****
Harriet Warner repeated her question: “It’s true, isn’t it?”
“What’s true mom?” he asked feigning ignorance at the point of her question.
“You’re dressing up as a girl again, aren’t you?”
Sonny knew he couldn’t lie to his mother. She could always tell, he realized.
“Yes,” he said his voice a whisper.
“What did you say? I didn’t hear you,” she demanded.
“Yes, I guess,” he said more loudly.
“You guess? You either are or aren’t and you must be doing it a lot since you’re looking more and more like a girl every day. Look at how you’re sitting now.”
Sonny looked down at his lap, realizing that unknowingly he had tucked one leg up and under the other as he sat on the kitchen chair.
“Oh mommy,” he said, his voice quavering as he broke into a full-throated cry. He put his head down on the table, resting on his arms and sobbed.
He felt his mother’s hand rest gently on his head as she let him cry.
*****
“What’s he crying about,” Tess said, entering the room. She heard the commotion in the kitchen as she returned home from school.
“He’s dressing again,” his mother said.
“Oh?” Tess said trying to sound innocent.
“Did you know about it, Tess?”
“I guess,” the girl said.
“What’s with this ‘I guess’ stuff? Your brother had the same answer.” Their mother appeared angry.
Finally, Tess admitted to finding him dressed and to helping him find clothes to wear.
“I’m really mad at both of you,” their mother said. “How could you keep something like this from me for a whole year? This is serious. Don’t you realize Sonny is turning into a girl? Look at him; he’ll never be able to function in the world as he is now.”
“But mother . . .” Tess interrupted, hoping to stop her mother’s tirade.
“No buts. This has got to end. Sonny’s got to understand that he’s a boy and soon he’ll be a man and he’s got to begin acting like one. This is ridiculous.”
Sonny raised his head, his eyes red and moist. “I’ll never be a man, mom,” he said.
“Not if you don’t try, Sonny. You can do it! Both me and your father came from strong farming stock. I’ll get you into some physical fitness classes to start with.”
“Oh mom, please. I can’t do that stuff.”
With that, Sonny ran upstairs to his room, closed the door and collapsed onto his bed sobbing uncontrollably.
*****
The girls on the golf team were shocked – and angry – at learning that Sonja would be unable to play because her mother had forbidden it. Tess told them when she got to work about 11 a.m., summoning them into a side room in the golf pro shop, along with Juan, the assistant pro and team coach.
“Why won’t she let Sonja play?” Heather asked, her face registering shock. She had grown to enjoy the young girl as a golf mate as much as they all had enjoyed Sonny as a friendly, cheerful boy co-worker.
Tess explained: “I looked at my little brother Sonny, who had learned how to play golf and did it pretty well and began thinking: why not him? Through the years, we’d play dress up a lot and he could look like a girl, I thought. So, Sonny became Sonja.”
“And your mother didn’t know about Sonja and the golf team until last night?” Maria queried.
Tess nodded: “Mother doesn’t like Sonny acting like a girl and wants to enroll him in physical fitness places to make him more of a man.”
“Since I’ve seen her as Sonja, I just can’t think of her as a boy,” Heather said.
“She’s really a cutie,” Juan said smiling.
“I thought I saw you giving her lots of attention, Juan,” Heather quipped.
“Are we going to have to withdraw from the tournament?” Maria asked.
Juan said the team would have to drop out unless a substitute could be found for the tournament. It was only four days away, and it was unlikely there was another female employee at the Club who golfed.
“Do you think if we all went over to talk to your mother, Tess, that we could get her to change her mind?” Maria said.
“Probably, mom is really open-minded about most things,” Tess said.
“But she . . . ah . . . I mean, he . . . doesn’t hit the ball like a guy,” Juan pointed out. “Look at how short his drives are.”
“Yeah, I noticed that when I might use a seven-iron for a shot, he’ll use a four-iron,” Heather remarked.
(Note to non-golfers: A seven-iron is used for shorter distances than a four-iron. The higher the number, the shorter the distance.)
“But he’s deadly accurate on his shots, which makes up for his weak shots,” Juan said.
“I don’t care what you all think, but Sonja’s all girl in my book. I say we talk to her mother,” Maria said, pointedly refusing to use the male pronoun to reference Sonny.
*****
Heather and Maria showed up at the Warner household after Tess had called them that her mother was home for the night. “I told mom that you are coming over and that she should stick around,” she told them.
At precisely eight o’clock, the two women rang the bell and were welcomed into the living room by Tess. She had alerted Sonny, but urged him to stay in his room.
“I know what this is all about, but I’m not about to change my mind,” Harriet Warner told the three.
“Mom, just hear us out,” Tess pleaded.
“I will listen to you, of course, but I think I’m doing this in Sonny’s best interest. He’s a boy who must grow up to be a man so that he has a good future.”
“We understand your concerns, Mrs. Warner,” Maria said.
“Mom, listen to me. I think Sonny really wants to live as a woman. Really, he does.”
“Yes, Mrs. Warner, all I really see when I look at her . . . oops . . . I meant him . . . is a pretty young lady,” Maria said.
Heather nodded. “We’re so used to calling him Sonja now. Even when he dresses like a guy, he still gets mistaken for a woman.”
“And he’s always called ‘miss’ by customers at the snack shop, mom, and he seems so happy now,” Tess added.
The conversation continued on for another twenty minutes before Harriet Warner held up her hand and said: “Stop please. I know you all are sincere, but still I don’t think playing in a golf tournament is so important you’d risk a boy’s future.”
“But mom, he wouldn’t be the only boy who transitioned into being a girl, you know,” Tess said.
“I’m well aware of what being transgendered means,” Mrs. Warner said, showing anger for the first time in the conversation. “I also know it could lead to an extremely difficult life for a person. Very few are able to find a lifetime mate, like a husband, and jobs can be hard to come by. I’m not sure Sonny is strong enough to weather all that.”
“But Sonny’s miserable as a boy, mom. You must have noticed how happy he seems to be.”
Harriet Warner agreed that Sonny had shown much more spirit in the last weeks, even though she also noticed how increasingly feminine he had been acting.
“He’s always been such a pretty child,” she said.
“Would you consider it, Mrs. Warner?” Maria asked.
Harriet Warner thought for a minute, before nodding her head. “I’ll have a good talk with Sonny and then I’ll make my decision,” she said. “I know you must know my answer soon so I’ll let Tess know once I’ve talked with Sonny.”
Tess led the two women out of the house, telling them that she knew her mother would make the right decision.
“She’s a good woman, Tess,” Maria nodded. The three girls had a group hug and then Maria and Heather got into Heather’s aging Ford Focus station wagon and took off.
Returning to the house, Tess saw her mother was crying and walked over to hug her.
“Mom, I’m sorry we did this, but the other girls wanted to play so bad and Sonny was the only way.”
Her mother looked up and answered in a halting voice, “No, I’m not mad at you or the others. They seem like nice women. It’s just that I feel so guilty not being able to be around for you kids. If I had been, maybe this wouldn’t have happened to Sonny. I so much looked for him to be a handsome, strong young man, but now you’re telling me he wants to be a woman. I blame myself for not having a dad around.”
“Oh mom, dad walked out on you, remember?” Tess said.
“That’s because I wasn’t a good enough wife for him, Tessie.”
“Oh mom, don’t blame yourself. Sonny might have turned out the same whether or not dad was here. Usually such tendencies develop naturally, having nothing to do with the parents, mom.”
“I suppose you’re right, Tess.”
“I checked up on what being transgender means and basically it means the boy or the girl can’t help themselves for wanting to be something else.”
“Besides, mom, dad has always been a selfish man and he still is,” Tess continued
“I’m no saint, either,” her mother said, still unwilling not to blame herself for what was occurring with her son.
Their conversation was interrupted by the kitchen door opening; they looked up to see Sonny entering, looking fresh and emitting a subtle scent of roses. He wore a bright yellow and blue sleeveless summer dress of mid-thigh length. His hair was brushed and flowed smoothly to his pretty shoulders; he wore no stockings and had yellow sandals with two-inch heels.
“No one is a saint, mother, but you’re the closest to being one as much as anyone else is,” said the lovely creature standing before them in a voice soft and sweet.
“Oh my God, you are so lovely, darling,” Harriet Warner said, bursting into tears and rising from her chair to hug Sonny.
“Mom, I love you and I want you to love me, too, even though I’m not the boy you wished for. Let me be your daughter, mom. Please,” Sonny pleaded, clinging onto his mother tightly.
The two held each other for what seemed an eternity, both dampening each other’s dress with their flowing tears. Standing by, Tess cried, too, still uncertain as to where this scene would be heading.
“I need to sit down, Sonny,” the older woman said, visibly exhausted by the emotions of the moment.
“Mother, call me Sonja. That’s my name.”
“This is too much,” Harriet said.
No one said anything for a moment; they looked at each other and Sonny could feel see mother studying him, trying to take in the image of the beautiful person sitting opposite her. Tess, too, was examining Sonny, and unlike the other two, she was smiling.
Sonny broke the silence: “Mother and Tessie, I don’t know what you were talking about, but I did hear mother say something about not being a saint and I wanted her to know how much I love and admire her. I’m proud to be your daughter.”
Hearing the word “daughter” from her son, Harriet perked up, ready to argue.
“Daughter? You’re my son. You’re Sonny and no pretty dress can change that,” she blurted out, getting up from her chair, preparing to leave the room.
“Mother, please,” Sonny said, his eyes filling with tears again. “I can’t be happy as Sonny.”
He reached over to grab his mother’s forearm; though his grip was weak, it was enough to dissuade Harriet from darting from the room. She sat down again.
“Mother,” Sonny began, again using the more formal “mother” that he felt was more like how a girl would address the parent. “Mother, I was moping in my room again tonight, still feeling bad that you didn’t like me as Sonja, and I felt the only way to feel better was to take a shower, wash my hair and put on the cutest dress I could find. I felt I had to do that to get out of the mood I was in.”
Tess interjected: “Mom, I’ve never seen Sonja happy unless she’s being a girl. Really, she was meant to be Sonja, not Sonny.”
Their mother shook her head. “This seems so unreal, kids, but I can see that and I guess I should have seen that. Just seeing how he sits sometimes was so much like a girl,” she said.
“I seemed to do that without thinking, and you know I’ve been mistaken for a girl quite a bit more recently, even when dressed in my boy stuff,” Sonny said.
“That’s true, mom, he’s been borrowing my clothes for years and dressing when you’ve been gone,” Tess said. “I tried to stop him, but I could see how much he liked it, so I helped him learn how to put on make up and fix his hair. It was cool to have a little sister.”
“I should have suspected as much and I’m angry at both of you for hiding this from me,” Harriet said.
“We thought you’d be mad at us and Sonja wanted to do it so much,” Tess said.
“How long have you felt this way, Sonny?” their mother asked.
“It seems like always, mother. But, can’t you call me Sonja?”
“It just seems wrong. You’re my son.”
“But I’ve always really been your daughter and that’s why after I got dressed tonight I decided to show you how much of a daughter I really am,” Sonny said, smiling sweetly.
“Yes, mom,” Tess added. “You’ve never really seen how really pretty Sonja is when all dressed up.”
*****
As Sonny prepared himself for bed that night, wearing a short nightgown with slim straps over the shoulders, he looked into the mirror as he tied his hair into a ponytail. He had removed all signs of make up, but still the image reflected in the glass was that of a slender, almost dainty young lady. He smiled the sweet, warm smile that seemed to come so easily.
His mother, he knew deep in his heart, would give her approval to sign the necessary papers to acknowledge that her son should be considered female, technically a transgendered girl. Her promise as they broke up their long talk in the kitchen in a group hug was that she’d give her answer to whether she’d give her permission the next evening.
“I promise to think carefully and to talk this over with a doctor friend I know who specializes in cases like this and then make my decision. I truly want you to be happy, either as Sonny or as Sonja.”
“I know you do, mother,” Sonny said.
“We both love you, mom,” Tess said.
The group hug was long and tight.
(To be continued)
3 – The Tournament
Sonja entered the women’s locker room at the Maplecrest Country Club where the one-day, eighteen-hole tournament was to be played. The foursome from Riverside decided to go into the locker room as a group, all to make sure that the new young lady in their midst could change easily and comfortably into their golf outfits. Fortunately, the Maplecrest Club – one of the newest in the area – had state-of-the-art facilities, including a huge, rambling clubhouse with large locker rooms for both male and female golfers. The women’s locker room area had the added luxury of changing stalls so that the fussy wealthy members could change in private; similarly, the showers were portioned off, offering complete privacy.
“How does it feel to be one of us?” Tess whispered as she led her new sister into the locker room.
“I’m thrilled,” Sonja said, realizing her heart was beating hard and fast.
“You better settle down, honey, since you’ve got a golf game to play.”
“I hope I can, Tessie.”
The group found four empty lockers and began to take off their shorts or skirts and blouses, disrobing down to panties and bras. Eager to be part of the group, Sonja chose not to use the private changing stalls; she wore simple white cotton panties over a gaff and a Size 34A sports bra that covered the small breast forms that had been affixed with an adhesive to her chest. As she did so, she looked about to see a host of other young women engaged in the same changing routine.
“Sonja, you have such a lovely young girl’s body.” Heather moved next to her, speaking softly so as no others would hear.
Sonja felt Heather’s hands caress her slender arm gently, her touch sensuous and suggestive. The rumor was that Heather, even though she was the single mother of two, had a lesbian partner. Sonja wondered if the woman was hitting upon her.
“We have a golf match to win, Heather,” Tess said.
“Of course we do,” the woman said, moving back to complete changing.
Tess moved in between Sonja and Heather and began to change her clothes. When Heather left to go to the bathroom, Tess said to her sister: “Beware of her, sis, I’m told she likes younger women.”
Sonja nodded and turned to complete changing into the golf clothes. She hadn’t realized how young women can often be the object of the desires of others, both male and female; first it had been Juan and now it was Heather and she’d be playing eighteen holes of golf in their company. Even the club president at one time seemed to make suggestive comments to her.
*****
The tournament was nothing more than a fun event for employees of the country clubs in the area; yet, there was a small gallery of spectators gathered around the first tee, watching the foursomes take their initial shots.
Sonja’s heart beat loudly as she walked up, accompanied by Heather, who seemed to crowd against her as the walked up the path.
“Do I have to tee off before all these people?” Sonja said softly to Heather.
“Yes, honey, but don’t let that bother you. Just concentrate on hitting the ball and relax. I’ll be here by your side,” Heather said, running her hand gently up and down Sonja’s arm as they walked.
“I know, but what if I just dribble one off the tee? They’ll all laugh.”
“You won’t dear.”
While Heather’s affectionate actions concerned Sonja, she couldn’t help being comforted by the woman. Sonja felt warm and protected in the presence of Heather whose physical strength was accompanied by her commanding manner.
Just like a pro tournament, the players had to walk the course. Caddies were supplied by the home club so that the women did not have to carry their own clubs. Sonja’s caddy introduced himself as Matthew, a tall, thin young man who wore granny glasses that seemed to spell out nerd; his appearance was certainly misleading as Herman, the caddy who carried for Heather, informed them that Matthew was captain of his university’s varsity golf team.
“You might do well to ask his advice on the course, since he knows this course well,” Herman, a muscular African-American young man, informed Sonja.
Heather and Sonja would play with two women from the Oakview Country Club, a thirtyish slender blonde named Kathy and a huskier African-American woman of about twenty named Belinda. Both were cheerful and Sonja began to feel at ease in their company.
“Let’s just have fun today,” Heather said to the group. They all smiled as they shook hands.
After a ball toss to determine which team would tee-off first, it was determined that Sonja would hit first, followed by the two from Oakview with Heather hitting last. “Can’t I trade off that to one of you?” Sonja asked, disturbed by the process of being the first to hit.
“You’re it, girl,” Belinda said smiling.
There was a creek that ran across the fairway at about 160 yards out, posing little threat to long-hitting golfers who could easily hit the ball far enough to carry the water. Sonja knew that if she hit the ball perfectly she had a good chance to carry and she was determined to do so. Furthermore, she had watched two foursomes tee off while awaiting her turn to play, and most of the women easily hit the ball over the creek; several did hit the ball purposefully and came up just short of the water, while two others hit into the water.
“Give me my driver,” she told Matthew.
“Ma’am, might I suggest that you use the five-wood so that you can just lay up. You don’t hit a long ball, ma’am,” Matthew said, his words most respectful.
Sonja smiled, realizing that Matthew must have been observing her puny drives during the practice time on the golf range. Remembering the other caddy’s suggestion, she thought it best to take Matthew’s advice and accepted the shorter-hitting club. Using the five-wood, she knew, would be reassuring, since she knew she would more likely swing easily and less likely to dribble a shot off the tee.
Each golfer was introduced through a loudspeaker system: “Please welcome the teams from Oakview and Riverside Country Clubs to the tee. First to tee off will be Sonja Warner from Riverside.”
There was a smattering of applause from the small gallery; as she walked up to the tee, hoping not to look too nervous, she saw Juan and Brick Walters, the club president, watching. She was shocked as she saw Walters give her a sly wink followed by a “thumbs-up” with a broad smile. Sonja momentarily was shocked at the obvious flirting done by the older man, but then realized she needed to concentrate on hitting the ball.
Every eye in the crowd was upon Sonja – easily one of the most fetching and lovely young women among the golfers – as she stood next to her teed-up ball. She took one easy practice swing, and using a philosophy taught by her sister, she immediately addressed the ball, eyed it and swung in the easy motion she had learned, hitting the ball squarely. It rose straight and true, taking a lazy arc before landing about ten yards short of the creek, a perfect spot from which to launch her second shot.
“That was perfect, Sonja,” Heather said.
Not unexpectedly, all three of the other golfers hit long, beautiful drives well over the creek; Sonja realized she’d be the weakest hitter among the girls in her foursome. What happened on the first hole formed a pattern for the entire eighteen holes. Heather’s drives always boomed out some 250 yards and for the most part stayed straight and true. The two Oakview golfers, Kathy and Belinda, hit long drives as well, but their hits usually strayed off the fairway, making for difficult second shots. Sonja’s drives never got much longer than 175 yards, but they were straight down the middle.
The first hole was a par five and was 510 yards in length from the women’s tees, and Sonja feared she’d be badly outscored due to the weak hits. Yet, Sonja managed to get a five, her three short hits getting her to the fringe of the green in three; she chipped up within five feet of the hole and sank her putt easily for a five. Heather was next to the green in two shots, but her approach to the hole put her more than 30 feet away and forced her to scramble for her par. Both the Oakview girls got sixes, having lost a shot when their drives ended up in the rough grass among trees, forcing them to waste a shot just to get back on the fairway.
“Girl, you’re something around the green,” Belinda said after the first few holes and having watched as Sonja proved she could make up for her short hits with skillful approaches and precise putting.
“I wish I could hit my drives as long as you girls,” Sonja replied as they waited to tee off for the fifth hole, a short par three over the same creek that crossed the first hole and would be a hazard on several later holes as well. Sonja and Belinda sat next to each other on the bench as they watched the foursome in front of them finish putting on the green.
“You don’t need to hit the ball any further, dear,” Belinda said. “You’re such a pretty, delicate creature I’m surprised you’re able to hit the ball as far as you do.”
Heather sat down on the other side of Sonja and put an arm about her shoulders. She said: “She is a pretty thing, isn’t she? I thought she was named to our team because our coach, Juan, was hot for her, but I can see she’s more than a pretty face.”
Sonja blushed. She look down to see her smooth, soft, slender forearms and tiny wrists as they rested upon her lap; she looked over and the firm, veined arms of the young African-American woman sitting next to her. The other women were strong and hard and Sonja realized that she was on the course as just another girl, not expected to play well or to hit the ball hard. She imagined how shamed she’d feel if she were golfing as a teenaged boy named Sonny and was being regularly beaten out by the young women.
In spite of the fact that they were in competition, Heather and Sonja found they liked Belinda and Kathy and the four young women continued to encourage each other and to commiserate when one of them got into trouble with a hit. Not surprisingly, they began to giggle a lot. Soon there was a bet placed on whether Sonja would ever hit a ball as far as 200 yards; Belinda and Kathy said they’d buy the Riverside girls a milk shake at the club if Sonja finally achieved the goal; otherwise, Sonja and Heather would do the buying.
Sonja was determined to win the bet, even though there seemed to be little chance she’d succeed. The ninth hole offered an opportunity, since the tee shot was downhill and the wind was from behind, perfect conditions for a long hit. Sonja’s hit sounded solid and firm and headed out straight before it developed a slight hook to the right, which would help to put over-spin on the ball. It settled down at just about the 200 yard mark.
“Did I make it?” she said, squealing for joy.
“Not sure,” Heather said.
The other girls’ drives ended up more than 250 yards down the fairway, making Sonja’s Herculean effort seem pathetic by comparison.
“We’re rooting for you Sonja,” Belinda said as the foursome with their caddies moved down the fairway.
Just then a golf cart came up from behind. It was Brick, the Riverside Club president, who intermittently stopped by to watch the foursome; he was making a practice of checking on the foursomes as part of the tournament committee.
“He seems to be following us much more closely than the others,” Heather said.
“I think he’s got his eye on our beauty queen here,” Kathy said, nodding in Sonja’s direction.
“How you girls doing?” Brick inquired cheerfully, his eyes focused on Sonja.
“Just fine, sir.” Belinda said.
“What are you eyeing so carefully, Heather?” Brick asked, having spied Heather trying to line up Sonja’s ball to see if it went 200 yards.
“We’re just seeing if this hit went 200 yards, sir,” Belinda said.
“I don’t think it did,” Sonja said.
“No, I think you hit it 200 yards, Sonja, and we owe you and Heather a shake,” Kathy said.
Brick watched the girls as they discussed whether the ball went 200 yards. “What’s the issue, girls?”
“Well, sir, we’re all rooting for Sonja to hit a ball 200 yards and the way this ball is sitting it’s kind of hard to tell,” Belinda said.
“Oh let me look,” he said, getting out of the golf cart and eyeing the position of the ball.
“What do you think?” Belinda asked.
Brick pondered the situation, finally said, with a smile and a wink toward Sonja, “I’d say she hit the ball 200 yards. Here she’s maybe two yards short, right, but the tees were set way back, adding at least five yards to the distance a ball must travel in order to get as far as the 200-yard marker.”
“I did?” Sonja squealed, and on impulse approached the tall, portly man and stood on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, suddenly growing red in the face. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“That was fine, Sonja. I enjoyed it,” he said, smiling.
“I might have thought,” Belinda said, faking a look of disgust. “She bribed him.”
“I did not,” Sonja protested.
Suddenly, the other girls all laughed, and Belinda’s partner, Kathy said, “Guess we owe you two a shake.”
“And thank you for the sweet kiss, Sonja,” Brick said as he climbed laboriously into the golf cart. He waved a cheery good-bye and added a wink toward Sonja before driving off.
“Looks like you got a friend here, Sonja, but watch out maybe he’s not such a harmless old flirt after all,” Heather giggled.
“Maybe I’ll have to tell him what you did – that I only like girls,” Sonja said, giggling.
Sonja knew she must have blushed. She wondered what kind of designs the older man might have upon her. It was a strange thought, since Brick Walters was made aware that pretty as she was, Sonja was still anatomically a boy. Was that what intrigued him? Sonja was bothered as well by the attention she got from Juan, who joined the foursome for the second nine holes of golf. He spent the first nine walking with Tess and Marie in their match. Even in the midst of the competition, Juan seemed to spend an inordinate amount of his time giving her hints on how to swing, what club to use and where to aim her hit so that she’d get the best benefit of the roll.
In the week leading up to the tournament, he seemed to concentrate mainly on Sonja, almost totally ignoring the others. He used a hands-on teaching style, often standing behind her, engulfing her with his arms and guiding her through the swing. More than once, Sonja found her buttocks up against his crotch area, feeling what was obviously his penis growing hard. She could smell the aftershave on his face, a scent often mixed with the sweat of both of their bodies on the warmer days. His hands seemed to linger just a bit longer than necessary.
Several times, she protested, “Juan, you need to spend more time with the others.”
“No, Miss Warner, you’re the newest and youngest on the team,” he answered. “You need the instruction.”
He was right, of course. Sonja was becoming enthralled with the game; she loved the concentration it took, the green of the courses and the thrill of making a solid direct hit. She welcomed the instruction and she soon realized she loved being caressed by the young golf pro. She puzzled why these two men, Juan and Brick, were so enamored with her when both of them knew she was still male. Sonja made a vow to talk to Tess about it; her sister was always wise in the ways of men, it seemed, even though Tess was currently without a boyfriend and always had issues with the men she dated.
*****
A reception was planned for the late afternoon, at which time trophies were to be awarded. After the women ended their play, they showered and changed into street wear for the event. While many of the women merely changed into clean shorts and golf shirts, Sonja chose to wear a pretty yellow and teal sundress with thick straps over the shoulders, exposing her arms and shoulders; the skirt puffed out and ended in mid-thigh. She wore beige sandals, but no stockings.
“Darling, you look fresh as a daisy,” Heather commented as the two left the locker room. “You shame us by how pretty you look.”
“I just felt like dressing like this, Heather. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all. If you got it, flaunt it,” she said with a twinkle.
“I didn’t do it for that reason,” Sonja protested.
“Well, you’re certainly a tempting morsel,” the older woman said.
Entering the reception, Sonja realized she might have overdressed for the occasion, being one of the few women who were wearing dresses. As might be expected, both Brick Walters and Juan Garcia commented how lovely she looked. “You’re easily the prettiest girl here today,” the club president said, putting his arm about her in a seeming fatherly fashion.
“Thank you, sir, but there are a lot of pretty women here, sir,” Sonja said, emphasizing the word “women” to signify the need to recognize the respect the club president should show for the gender.
She doubted the clueless Brick Walters even understood how crude and rude he was. She realized that she had to somehow diplomatically reject this man whose desires obviously were not respectful to her or any other woman.
“What a pig,” the words came from Belinda, the young African-American woman from the Oakview Club.
“I know, but what can I do?” Sonja said.
“Just what you did, Sonja. You let him know you weren’t pleased with how he treated women and that you’re an independent woman, too. I don’t think he’ll monkey with you.”
Sonja looked at the other woman, who was just a couple of years older. Sonja was comforted that Belinda also wore a dress, a purple cocktail dress which was highlighted with a white lace trim. It created an image of a mature, strong woman. Sonja thought Belinda was truly lovely and classy and that if any woman in the room could be classified as the “prettiest” it would have to be Belinda.
*****
The Riverside Club won the tournament trophy for being the team with the lowest aggregate score; all four trooped up to the stage and had their picture taken with Brick Walters; Heather, who shot an astounding 73 got the trophy for having the lowest score of the day.
“And now for several other awards,” Walters boomed into the microphone.
“For the closest to the pin on Hole No. 17, the award goes to Wanda Poynter of the Scenic View Club.”
A chunky, fortyish woman with a jovial smile mounted the stage to receive her trophy. She was all smiles, and Walters, diplomatically staying at arm’s length from the plain-looking woman, handed her the award.
“For the fewest putts in 18 holes, the award goes to Sonja Warner of Riverside. This pretty young woman had only 26 putts. Can you imagine that? You need to teach me how to putt, girl,” he said smiling.
Sonja was shocked. She hated being in the limelight and she sat still in her chair.
“Get up and go, Sonja,” Tess urged.
“Don’t be shy girl,” boomed Brick for the podium.
Her mind was in a fog as she mounted the small stage to receive the trophy (a clear plastic encased silver image of a female golfer in the midst of her swing) from Brick Walters.
“And she’s not only a great girl with a putter, she’s incredibly beautiful, isn’t she folks?” Walters said into the microphone. The audience cheered lustily.
Sonja was speechless and stopped more than an arms length away from Walters, who beckoned her to move closer. “Come young lady, I won’t bite,” he whispered, reaching out to bring her close.
She moved next to him and he put an arm about her as the two held the trophy, while several persons, including Tess, moved up to take pictures. Sonja composed herself enough to smile, and Brick Walters muttered, “Now that’s more like it, dear.”
She knew she had to say a few words, as the previous award winners had done. She moved to the microphone, and began in a soft, uneven voice, “Thank you to the club’s sponsors and to Mr. Walters for this award . . .”
“Louder, louder,” several voices yelled.
“Ah, I’m sorry,” Sonja said, hoping that in speaking more loudly she wouldn’t betray her boyish sounds. In order to disguise her male attributes, she had expressly developed a soft, breathy voice that bordered on being sexy.
“I was thanking the clubs who sponsored this tournament for the workers, the women workers,” she began, her voice gaining more strength. “Thank you Mr. Walters for presenting the award.
“I’d like to thank Juan Garcia, our team coach, and my teammates, especially my older sister, Tess, who first got me on the golf course and taught me the fundamentals of the game. Too bad I could never learn to drive a ball as far as her, but I guess a good putt is worth as much as a 250 yard drive.”
“You bet it is, Sonja,” a voice came from the audience. Sonja recognized it as Belinda’s.
“And thanks to Belinda and Kathy – our opponents from the Oakview Club – for being great golfing companions today. We had fun. Finally, I’d like to comment that it’s great the country clubs offer this day for their female employees. Too often the ladies who perform the kitchen chores and set the tables and clean the locker rooms are treated as chattel. And, far too often, I’ve seen how some of us have been looked upon as sex objects. We are not sex objects. We are human beings and wish to be treated as such. And . . .”
“Thank you, Miss Warner,” Walters edged her away from the podium. “It’s time we moved on.”
Sonja heard nothing as she was pushed rudely aside by the large older man; she turned to step off the stage and finally there was a scattering of applause that quickly gathered volume, accompanied by a few whistles. The whistles, she knew, came from her sister Tess who had learned how to let out lusty tones through her teeth, a most unladylike action. Sonja moved back through the tables, keeping her eyes forward; yet, she could see some of the older men in the audience sitting with stony expressions while their female companions applauded.
“I could see that old guy had his eyes on you,” Tess said as Sonja sat down. “I guess you told him off.”
“I hope that doesn’t get both of us fired, Tessie,” Sonja said.
“Don’t worry about it, dear,” Tess said, kissing her sister on the cheek.
When the affair ended, Juan Garcia said a curt “goodbye” to the four girls on the team and left hurriedly. Brick Walters also left the room hurriedly, clearly avoiding the girls from the Riverside golf team. Sonja hardly noticed the quick withdrawal of the two men as other women golfers surrounded her almost immediately. Belinda was one of the first on the scene; she rushed up to hug Sonja, “Oh darling, you were magnificent.”
“I’m quickly learning what girls have to live with,” Sonja said.
“Especially a girl like me,” Belinda said. “So many guys think all us black girls are good for is as an easy lay, particularly these country club creeps.”
“I’m glad you said that,” Heather said to Sonja. “I saw how Walters was trying to touch you up there on stage. The old letch.”
“Yeah, did you see how red he got when Sonja talked?” Maria said.
The girls all giggled.
“No doubt about it, dear sister. You’re all girl.” Tess smiled and hugged Sonja.
(Thanks to Eric for assisting in this story. Any errors or inconsistencies are the fault of the author)
4 – The Future
“Darling, I’m so proud of you and you look absolutely stunning,” Harriet Warner said, greeting her son and his sister as they entered the home on the night of the reception.
Sonny looked at his mother and did a quick pirouette, his arms moving daintily.
“She was easily the prettiest girl there, mom,” Tess said.
“She’s lying, mom,” Sonny protested.
“You were and you know it, Sonja,” his sister said, emphasizing the name Sonja.
“Sonny,” their mother said, suddenly bursting into tears.
“Mom, mom, what’s wrong?” Sonny said.
“Oh, Sonny, Sonny. Come hug your mother.”
He moved onto the couch, next to his mother and let her draw him onto her bosom. Harriet Warner was a tallish woman, slender and toned, much as Tess was. Sonny felt small in his mother’s arms, feeling weak and dependent and he began crying as well.
“Have I lost a son and gained a daughter?” Harriet said finally.
Sonny removed himself from his mother’s hold and sat upright next to her. “Mom, I love being a girl, really,” he said, his eyes still red from his brief cry.
“Look we’ve mussed your dress, dear,” his mother said. She stopped crying and looked at him.
“Isn’t this dress just adorable on me?”
“You’re such a girl, sis,” Tess chimed in.
“Now, go change, both of you,” their mother ordered. “As a celebration for your tournament win, I baked a nice cake and we can have a feast in a few minutes. OK?”
“Your red velvet cake, mom?” Tess said.
“Yes, honey. Your favorite.”
“Goody,” said Tess and Sonny together, bring a laugh from their mom for their girlish enthusiasm.
“See, we’re sisters, Tess,” Sonny said, turning a running into his room.
Ten minutes later, Tess and Sonny reappeared in the kitchen. Sonny wore a shift-like gown in light yellow with spaghetti straps over his slender shoulders, while his sister wore plain green cotton pajamas with the emblem of the Green Bay Packers.
“I have made a decision,” Harriet Warner said after the three had finished their cake. Tess had a second helping, while Sonny expressed worry about “getting fat” and rejected the offer, still reassuring mom the cake was as delicious as ever.
“And I think it’s the right decision, noting Sonny’s worry about his weight,” their mother began. “It’s the kind of a thing a girl would do, turning down extra cake.”
Sonny wondered what she was getting too. Was she thinking that he should try to become more masculine? Was she upset with his effeminate mannerisms, his love of female clothes, his lack of physical strength? Did she have some scheme in mind that would get rid of his girlish feelings?
“It’s obvious that Sonny may in fact be a girl, even though he’s got a boy’s anatomy,” Harriet Warner said.
“I feel that way, mom,” Sonny said.
“Therefore, I think you should start seeing a specialist to determine if we should start you on a plan to change you into a girl. I’ve made appointments for you with two doctors, first with our GP and then with a psychiatrist. I’ve already talked to Dr. Cianciola and she understands your situation. She’ll give you a physical and talk to you a bit and then, if she agrees with me, we’ll go ahead with the psychiatrist to see if you should continue.”
“Oh mother, I love you,” Sonny said, suddenly bursting into tears – tears of joy.
*****
In the weeks before the start of Sonny’s senior year of high school, the boy saw the two doctors, just as his mother had suggested. Part of the huge Bestcare Health System (the area’s dominant medical provider), Dr. Phyllis Cianciola was a handsome fortyish woman and had become the Warner family’s primary physician in the last two years. Sonny had seen the woman doctor only once before his critical appointment in mid-August. At the first meeting a year before, Dr. Cianciola, whose office was decorated with well-polished trophies along with pictures of her as an accomplished tennis player, proclaimed that Sonny was in good health but that he should get more exercise and build muscle tone. She even had recommended several exercise groups, but Sonny ignored her advice.
Sonny’s tense nerves caused him to shiver intermittently as he waited in the large clinic where Dr. Cianciola practiced. Eventually he was called to wait in a small examination room with two chairs, a small desk with a stool on rollers and an examining table. The room was painted white and with the stark light from fluorescent bulbs gave it a cold, forbidding feeling. Sonny felt chilled and tense as he waited in the small enclosure for what seemed hours for the doctor to arrive. It was likely only ten minutes before the doctor greeted him with a business-like handshake. After a cursory, sit-down command, Dr. Cianciola turned to her laptop that Sonny presumed showed the results of his recent laboratory tests and other medical information.
“Everything looks good and you’re healthy, Mr. Warner,” she said finally.
Sonny nodded. He was suddenly wary of what the doctor was about to do. His mother had assured him that Dr. Cianciola was fully aware of his desire to change genders and that she was sympathetic to his situation; yet, the doctor betrayed none of the warmth and understanding that he was expecting. He sat frozen in position, his hands folded on his lap, his knees together.
“What makes you think you’re a girl, Mr. Warner?” she said directly.
“I don’t know, it just feels right, I guess,” Sonny replied, quickly recognizing the emptiness of his answer.
Dr. Cianciola said nothing. Her eyes were aimed directly at him, finally forcing him to turn his head to avoid looking at her.
“Well, I’m always sad and depressed, except when I dress up and feel like a girl,” Sonny began. Soon, he gushed, spilling out his episodes of being dressed by his sister, his forays into her bedroom when she was gone and finally the joy of playing in the golf tournament as a young lady named Sonja.
“Is that all?” the doctor said when he finished.
“Doctor, please, you must understand. I can’t be a boy. How can I grow up to be a man? I feel pathetic as a boy. Please, understand me . . .”
Sonny burst into tears, crying profusely.
The doctor moved into the chair next to the boy and took the sobbing boy’s hands in hers. Dr. Cianciola’s hands were large and hard and her touch was gentle.
“There, there, my dear,” the doctor said. “I do understand, darling. I do.”
Though he was confused by the doctor’s sudden change of behavior, Sonny felt warm and comforted. He wondered if the doctor understood his situation.
The doctor stepped away and sat down at her small desk in the examination room and smiled. “Yes, my dear, I think you’re right.”
“You mean it, doctor?” Sonny said, almost ready to cry again.
“Yes, but what I think doesn’t matter. We’ll have to make sure about this.”
Dr. Cianciola agreed he should follow up with the psychiatrist to continue exploring whether a gender change was appropriate. His mother was called into the office to formally agree to the appointment, since Sonny was still a minor.
“Mrs. Warner, I think you have a lovely and very pretty child here,” the doctor said. “I assure you he – or if it’s safe to jump the gun – she is a very healthy young lady and from a physical standard perfectly equipped to handle the drug treatment and any surgeries she may require.”
Dr. Cianciola smiled and leaned over to pat Sonny’s hand.
“Thank you, Dr. Cianciola,” Sonny said. “You had me scared for a few minutes.”
She merely smiled, before ushering Sonny and his mother from her office.
*****
Dr. Amil Gupta was short, dark man with slender soft hands. He greeted Sonny in a most courtly, courteous manner and after a few simple questions, Sonny found it easy to explain his feelings; he related his life and background to the doctor in detail, being prompted only by a few short questions. As he talked, Dr. Gupta looked at Sonny, nodding occasionally and even showing a hint of a smile. Everything about the man was reassuring.
He dismissed Sonny after a half hour and told him to wait in the outer office while he brought his mother in to speak privately with her.
Harriet Warner left the office fifteen minutes later and greeted her son.
“Let’s go, dear,” she said, without explanation.
“What did he say, mother?”
“We come back next week for his answer, dear.”
“What do you think? Will he, mother? Will he?”
“I don’t know, Sonny. He was very noncommittal, but I’m assured he’s really very good and understanding.”
“Oh mother, it’s just gotta happen. Mother, it has to.”
A week later, Dr. Gupta said that Sonny should begin living as a girl as often as he could. He suggested that he live outwardly as a boy to complete his senior year in school and for any job he might have. Otherwise, the doctor said, Sonny should live as a girl whenever he can, even on outings as long as it wouldn’t compromise his school or work situations. After four months, Dr. Gupta was to meet with Sonny again to see if he should start on hormones. If all went well, the doctor would recommend that Sonny begin taking further steps to become female. Any gender reassignment surgery or other surgery would begin a year or so after that.
As recommended by the doctor, Sonja returned to high school as a boy, though his growing effeminacy was becoming more and more noticeable and subjected him to occasional bullying and harassment. He found new friends among several girls, most of whom were top-ranked students as he was. Sonny was able to switch from an elective course in computer science to a fashion design course, where he was the only boy among some twenty students. There he was quickly accepted, largely because of his basic openness and kindness to other students and he found the artistry that went into dress design to be particularly fascinating.
He even modeled his own creation and won the admiration of most of the class for his courage in dressing as a girl before the others. He looked ravishing in his dress – a wrap-around purple cocktail dress – and several of the girls afterward asked him to model their own dresses. Even though he was tempted, he wisely turned them down.
Sonny graduated in June as an honor student from high school, fully ready to begin his life as a girl. He returned to the Country Club job that summer as Sonja, working as a banquet waitress; it feared that his return the snack shop might raise some to question how his change from boy to girl might affect the children. In fall, he would attend the local university as “Miss Sonja Warner.”
*****
When Sonja entered the same local college, she ran into Belinda Mayfield who had been her friendly competitor in the golf tournament. Sonja was interested in political science and enrolled in a liberal arts course at the college, where she and Belinda ran into each other when both enrolled in a philosophy class. The opening day for the fall semester was unusually warm for September and many of the students – including Sonja – wore shorts with light shirts. As she entered the classroom, Sonja felt wary and nervous, uncertain whether she’d be able to fit in with the students at the university level. In the first class she had on that first day – a required freshman English course – she noticed that none of the students talked much. It was a whole new world, she realized, where strangers were meeting for the first time, each somewhat worried about the others’ reaction to them. Not at all like high school, Sonja realized, where it seemed all of the students seemed to know each other and where she (though still presenting herself as a boy) was regularly identified as either that “girly boy” or “sissy” by some or as a “courageous boy” by others due to his effeminate mannerisms. Either way, she was never invisible in high school. Here, she realized with growing confidence, she was merely another burgeoning young lady. She could be herself. What a marvelous feeling!
Upon entering the beginning philosophy class – the second class of that first day – Sonja spied a pretty African-American girl seated alone in the back of the room. At first, Sonja didn’t recognize Belinda, but a second glance told her it was the athletic golfing competitor from the tournament. She wondered whether to approach the girl: Would she remember her? Then, the other girl saw her, and her eyes lit up and she eagerly waved Sonja to an empty seat across the aisle.
“Sonja? Is that you?” Belinda said, rising from her seat and accepting her with a warm hug.
“Belinda. How lucky. We’re in the same class.”
“I know. I was afraid I wouldn’t know a soul here.”
“Me too,” Sonja smiled.
Sonja needed much reassuring, having had only hormone replacement therapy to emphasize her feminine features; sexual reassignment surgery, breast implants and facial surgery would have to come later when she could afford it.
Her friend, too, was unsure of herself, in spite of being a truly beautiful, nicely proportioned African-American woman. Belinda was truly smart, bordering upon being an intellectual. She was on a full scholarship at the university as a freshman planning to take pre-law courses. Having grown up with a single mother who was often on a drug binge, Belinda had been regularly cared for by her grandmother, except for her difficult middle school years when she was in foster care. It was then she discovered the nearby branch library, which served as her refuge from the cruelties of her life and introduced her to the world of books.
By Belinda’s senior year in high school, her mother had been able to get herself off drugs and the girl was able to move back with her mother. It had made a great difference to Belinda who realized that perhaps she could make a good life for herself. Though she was two years older than Sonja, she had taken a job to earn sufficient funds to help pay the expenses of her mother’s household. Now, as she was entering college, Belinda found herself in a different world, a world that was almost totally white. It was a troubling trip for her and she found Sonja’s warmth and sincerity to be a welcome place of comfort.
Their friendship blossomed after that. They studied together when they could, sometimes in the university library, sometimes in the crowded student union and sometimes at Sonja’s home. Belinda also became close to Tess and Harriet Warner, almost becoming a second sibling. Belinda and Sonja were affectionate with each other and often hugged and kissed. Neither one wanted a sexual encounter with the other; their embraces were chaste, but warm and comforting.
“I wish I could have you study at my place, but it’s just too chaotic, besides mom’s boyfriend doesn’t like that I have so many white friends,” she complained several months into the friendship. The two shared a tiny table at a campus coffee shop, Belinda sipping on her skinny vanilla latte and Sonja on a cup of herbal tea. They had split a scone, the crumbs littering the table.
“I like your mom, Belinda,” Sonja said.
“She’s been great once she got clean. But she always works hard. I just wish she’d dump that boyfriend,” Belinda said.
“He’s scary,” Sonja agreed. “When we met, he eyed me up and down like I was a piece of meat.”
“Yeah, he’s a sexist pig. He told me I should bring you over to the house again, and I’m sure he figured you’d want to see what he calls his big, black friend. One day when mom was gone, he forced me to look at it, and I was scared he’d rape me. I screamed and ran into my room and locked the door. He pounded on the door and I said I’d tell my mother and he threatened me that he’d cut me up so badly that nobody’d ever want to look at me anymore. I keep my bedroom locked now when he’s around.”
“Why does your mom tolerate that?” Sonja asked.
“I don’t know but he does have a steady job and helps pay the rent.”
“Makes me wonder why I wanted to be a woman so badly.”
Belinda nodded: “It does, doesn’t it? But then, darling, as far as I can tell you always were female. It just took time to figure that out.”
“I’ve never been happier,” Sonja agreed.
The two then discussed the homework assignment their philosophy professor had given them; both were intense students, religiously following the reading assignments. It was obvious the two relished the learning process, something that united them closely.
“We’ve become best friends, haven’t we, Sonja?” Belinda asked when they took a break from their studies.
“Why would you even ask, Bebe?” Sonja said, smiling. “Of course, we are.”
Belinda nodded: “You’re the only person I’d let call me Bebe. God, how I hated that when grandpa used to call me that? But, with you, it’s sweet.”
“I was so happy we met on the first day at the university,” Sonja began. “I liked you immediately from the first time we met. It was cool the way that you and your teammates tolerated me in the golf tournament that day; I was scared stiff at what I was doing. It seemed like I was living such a lie.”
“Not really, since we were all told about it, which, of course, you knew,” Belinda said. “The tournament leaders urged all of the other girls to go along with you playing in the meet. Apparently, Brick Walters, your club’s president, was insistent, otherwise the Riverview Club would have no team, and he had organized this whole tourney. He can be quite a bully, you know.”
Sonja grinned. She knew full well how the buffoon could push to get his way.
“I’m glad he was that way, since I think I’d still be a boy if I hadn’t played in that golf tournament. For the first time in my life, I felt at home with people. You all accepted me.”
“You were easy to accept, dear,” Belinda said. “Everybody loved you. You’re so sweet and caring and you were such a friendly competitor, praising our good shots and commiserating with our duffs.”
“I’m not special Belinda.”
Her friend looked at her and smiled, “To me you are extra-special.”
Sonja sensed the warm affection within Belinda, and genuine feeling of love. It was not a sensual love based upon bodily desires but rather of genuine expression of appreciation between two caring friends.
“I don’t feel special, but how can I ever thank all of you for treating me as if I was one of the group – a girl just like everyone else. I never could find any boys who accepted me. I was always shunned as if I was the plague. But now, as a girl . . .”
“Oh, Sonja, my sweet, sweet darling,” Belinda interrupted, reaching across the table and gently taking both of Sonja’s hands in hers.
Conclusion
Three years later, Sonja Warner and Belinda Mayfield enjoyed a milkshake together, having finished eighteen holes of golf on a hot Sunday at the busy public course, Whispering Pines. Both girls had been busy with school and their part-time jobs and hadn’t been together for several months; they had shared a few brief phone conversations, and hadn’t spent any real time together since the last Christmas vacation period, when they spent a girls’ weekend together in Chicago going to museums and a few jazz venues.
They finally joined up on a warm July Sunday for their golf game. Because of the demand to play, courses often required sending groups out as foursomes, and thus strangers would play together. They were teamed up with two older men, who seemed to enjoy watching the two young ladies swing.
“Once those guys quit ogling, they were kind of nice,” Belinda observed.
“Yeah, that was strange. I felt they were trying to hit on us, but after the third hole, they stopped with their innuendoes. I wonder why? Are they racists?” Sonja asked.
“No, but remember after you sunk that long putt on the second green, I gave you a congratulatory kiss and I played it up a bit, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did,” Sonja giggled. “I guess they thought . . .”
“Yup, they did, I’m sure.”
“Particularly the way you ran you hand up and down my back then. That was hot.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“A fine pair of lesbians, we aren’t, are we?” Sonja said, and they both began giggling.
When the giggles stopped, Sonja asked Belinda about the boy she had been dating.
“Davon and I broke up,” she said.
“Oh, darling, that’s too bad. He was certainly good-looking.”
“Yes, he was really a handsome guy. Besides, he was tall,” Belinda said.
“What happened?”
“Nothing much really,” Belinda said. “He was so full of himself and I could see he wanted a woman to bow to him.”
“And that’s not you,” Sonja said, smiling.
“Of course not. So, good riddance. And there are no men in my life now. Tall girls like me have trouble getting dates, since most men are too short,”
“You only deserve the best, Belinda,” Sonja said, reaching over to put her hand on the girl’s muscular forearm.
They both sipped their milkshakes for a moment without saying anything, until Belinda asked: “By the way, you hinted the last time we talked that you had a boyfriend. Are you still dating him now?”
“Yes, we’ve been out a couple of times,” Sonja said, clearly minimizing her relationship.
“Sounds like a few more than a couple from the way you’re blushing, Sonja. And who is he?”
Sonja looked down at her half-finished shake, taking a moment to consider the question. “You remember Matthew who caddied for me in our tournament three years ago?”
“You mean the tall, skinny guy with the granny glasses? The brainy one?”
“Yes, that tall, skinny guy, and he’s more than brainy, too! You know he was the captain of his golf team in college and even considered going pro, but instead he’s a public defender now. He recently graduated from law school, but he’s not interested in being a fancy pants lawyer. He likes public interest law.”
“Really, that guy? What’s his full name?” Belinda asked, showing incredulity.
“Matthew. Matthew Kortus,” Sonja answered, her face beaming as her mind began to picture the tall, wispy haired young man.
“Does he know yet? About your boyhood?” Belinda asked.
“Of course he knows, Belinda. I never even had to tell him, since he was told by Juan on the day he caddied for me at the tournament.”
“He was? Wow. I didn’t know that.”
“Matthew told me that he and Juan had played lots of golf together and had become friends. Juan chose Matthew as my caddy since he knew Matthew to be open-minded about things like sexuality. He wanted Matthew to know in advance to be sure that he would be comfortable caddying for me. And he was. I was so lucky!”
“And he called you a few months ago after you hadn’t heard from him since the tournament three years ago?”
“Right! He was to participate in a charity golf tournament for the ACLU and needed a female partner. He knew I worked at the country club and that I still played a pretty good game of golf – for a girl. So he called me.”
“Just like that?”
“Well, he said he was desperate for woman partner who could golf and hoped I was interested in joining him. I accepted and now we’ve had a few dates.”
“And you’ve had sex together?” Belinda asked.
Sonja blushed, nodding in the affirmative. “He was my first man after the operation. And my only man!”
Belinda smiled.
“And it was great. I had five orgasms that night. Oh, Belinda I was on fire, so full of desire. I wanted him so much and, Belinda, he had so much to give, but I guess I wore him out.”
“Oh, darling, that’s so sweet,” Belinda replied. She got up and excused herself, saying she needed to use the bathroom.
In her friend’s absence, Sonja thought back to that night – just a week earlier – as she nestled in Matthew’s arms in their after-love, the scent of sex mixed with her perfume in the bedroom air. She felt so warm and protected. If this was love, she thought, could life ever be as sweet as she felt just then?
She remembered asking Matthew as the two lay together whether he could love such a “freak” as herself, a woman who could never give him children. “Don’t ask that now, darling and ruin the sweetness of this evening,” she remembered the young man’s reply.
She stiffened at his answer. Did this mean he was interested in her only for the sex, she wondered? Obviously he sensed her reaction, since he quickly recovered himself, saying, “Oh Sonja, my sweet, I’ll love you forever, really, I will.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes, even though it’s too early to think about marriage, I’ve been thinking about it,” he said.
Until then, Sonja had never imagined she would ever be married; it wasn’t reality for women like herself, she felt. Most men would want a total woman, she felt.
“We’ve not known each other for too long, Matthew, but I feel so close to you. I dream of being married, but, darling, I could never give you children.”
Matthew moved closer to you and the two nestled tightly together. He kissed her gently and then said: “You’re all woman to me, Sonja, and I can see us making a life together. We can adopt, you know.”
“Oh Matthew, I love you.”
Her musings were interrupted by the return of Belinda to the table. “What has you smiling so broadly?”
“Oh, nothing,” Sonja lied.
“It’s about Matthew, I’m sure.”
Sonja giggled and began blushing. Soon her smiles turned to tears and Sonja began sobbing softly. They were tears of joy. She so loved being a girl.