“How can that be?” I asked, fearing her answer would match the one in the book. I remember reading something about opposite readings. I thought about Jerry at the office today. Then a sudden flash of recall. The tiny courtroom stenographer in my mind read back last night's transcript, 'These readings usually came from folks that identified as trans-gendered.'

Heather shifted uncomfortably in her seat next to me. She composed herself for a second before speaking. “You know the answer, you read the aura section Erin.” Her use of the girls pronunciation for my name struck my ear like an 18 pound sledgehammer.

“But...I'm not...” I was blushing a bit now, our conversation was heading in the direction of interrogation.

“Listen it's OK, you don't have to lie or hide that from me.” she interrupted. “Our stories aren't that different. Let me tell you something about yourself, stop me the moment anything I say doesn't sound familiar.”

I agreed with a subtle affirmative nod.

“You've admired women's beauty all your life, and are well aware of it's powers.” stated Heather in a matter of fact voice.

I didn't object.

“You've never felt comfortable in your own skin, and you couldn't seem to put your finger on why.” she went on.

Silence from me.

Heather continued “You've felt disconnected from other men your whole life, faking your way through male bonding experiences. And quite well too I might add.”

Again, I had nothing.

“And all your life you've been terrified that someone might pick up on the fact that there is something different about you.”

If I had a lawyer, he or she might have objected at this point. But I couldn't.

Heather was right on the money. I didn't keep a diary, but if I had I'd accuse her of reading it. I found myself nodding 'yes' like a broken witness on the stand in some television courtroom drama. 'The prosecution rests,' I thought as Heather fell silent.

I pulled myself together wiping a lone tear out of my eye. “How could you know all of that?” I asked in a squeaky, strained soprano still new to my ears.

Heather broke eye contact and averted her gaze to the corner of the room. “When I saw you at the bar that night, I saw a sadness in your eyes. You and your friends kept looking over at my sister and I, but you looked at me differently than they did.” Her voice had a far-off quality to it. “Where your friends just wanted to be with me, you wanted to be with me and to be me.” Heather's voice trailed off.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then Heather started once more, “Once my sister and I recognized that quality in you, it was my...duty.” Her head went down in shame.

“Your duty!” I said angrily. “What duty?” I asked frustrated beyond logical expression.

Heather was looking in my direction once more, and clearly agitated by my outburst. The interrogation ended in confession, but not in the usual way. “Before you get all upset let me ask you a couple more questions,” Heather half pleaded. “When you changed last night, how did you feel when you gazed upon the body you desired for so long? Did you feel the calm?” Heather asked.

Dammit she was right again. I acknowledged by bobbing my head in agreement.

“Did you absolutely love the way your body moved? The way you looked and felt? Was it as though all the wrong in your life had suddenly been made right?” Heather was on a roll again. "And did you look forward to the change when it came this evening?"

Like a bobble-head doll I kept nodding yes.

“Tell me, this morning when you went back to being a man, did you miss your breasts, your curves?” Heather gestured to her own considerable assets as she asked.

“OK, OK...All of that is true, now explain this bit about it being your duty.” I asked, waving an accusatory finger at Heather. For the first time in our meeting tonight I felt like I was holding some of the cards.

“Look I didn't particularly enjoy it, but our pack had to expand. We only recruit people who will take to their new condition well, and...oh God...it was my turn to initiate a new member.” Heather looked embarrassed. Elbows on knees, red face buried in her delicate hands.

“Your turn? Your pack?!” I was flabbergasted. “And what do you mean you didn't enjoy it?...could have fooled me!” I was insulted.

“Look don't flatter yourself. You look far better to me now than you did last month. I'm a committed lesbian. But when your turn comes up, you do what you must for the good of the pack.” Heather's tone was defensive. “Some look forward to the task, plenty of werewomen out there can't keep their hands off men. They just have to use protection and avoid swapping too much spit with their lovers.” Heather's voice grew softer. “But for me...perhaps if I hadn't drank so much...”

“Great so now I'm a member of a pack? A pack of werewomen?” I was enraged and visibly so. “All because you were drunk and had an eye for me?”

“Oh wow this isn't going well.” Heather commented. "It's not like that..."

“Well I'm sorry I'm not making this easy on you.” I sneered.

Heather looked hurt. “Trust me I know this can be a lot to swallow, but someday soon you'll thank me.” Heather said in a parental tone. “As far as the pack goes, you will meet them all tomorrow evening.”

“I don't think so! Tomorrow is Saturday night and I'm going...” I didn't get to finish.

“TO TURN INTO A WOMAN!” Heather shouted, completing my sentence as she rose from her seat. Her frustration was clear. “There are three nights of the full moon per month, and like it or not you'll be transforming on all of them.” She was pacing in front of me now. “And who knows? With breasts that large, probably a couple times in between full moons too.”

“What?” I inquired in a defensive manner.

“Look it up, it's all in the book. I'm leaving now, but if I were you I'd finish reading it by tomorrow. I'll be here at the same time as tonight to pick you up. That's when your training truly begins.” Heather fumbled with her over-sized purse. “Wear this.” she said stoically handing me a small floral print sun dress.

Then she turned and walked out the door, leaving me speechless and holding a dress. What had I just done?

What happens next?