Gene or Jean? - Part 7 - Conclusions

Gene or Jean? - Part VII - Conclusions.
By Pentatonic

Chapter 44 - On the Job.

Classes were over, and I maintained a respectable grade point. The girls had gone their separate ways and I had moved into their apartment for the summer. I found out that Frank had pulled himself out of academic probation and was eligible to play football. Sylvia had a summer job at her Dad’s company, which meant that she had to work on Monday and Tuesday, the only days I had off. I would really miss her.

Before we all went our ways for the summer, Sylvia had an astute observation, “You’re going to be dressed for five of the seven evenings of the week, so why not make if full time until college starts in the fall?”

“That’s a good idea,” I responded, “that way I can have my hair done in a really feminine style, and maybe have some highlights. That way I won’t have to change the style all summer.”

“So you’ll be Jean the whole summer?” Sylvia wanted to know.

“Yeah, that’s about it,” I responded, “You know where I can get my hair done?”

“I know a good salon, and you could make an appointment for the day that classes end.”

“Okay,” I said, “but there is a problem. All of my casual clothes are my male clothes, so I’ll need to get some feminine casual clothes if I’m going to be Jean all summer.”

“I can help you there,” she responded. That was obvious. Sylvia loved clothes shopping with me. I had plenty of skirts, blouses and dresses. What I needed were the kind of clothes that girls wore to class and around town. “Let’s walk around and observe what girls wear when dressed casually.” So we began a reconnaissance by walking around town and campus, and then went shopping. Sylvia insisted that I wear my kilt and a blouse.

I saw and rejected any distressed jeans. Shorts were good, Capri and cropped pants worked, as well as some leggings and exercise pants. “You’ll need quite a few,” Sylvia observed, “because you will need something to wear during the day on the days you work.”

Naturally, a collection of tops were also required. “There are so many cute tops, it’s hard to decide,” Sylvia observed.

We also hit the shoe stores for some casual shoes and sandals.

My appointment at the salon was for later that week. Sylvia delayed her return home so she could accompany me for my ‘new look.’ While I had visited salons before, this was my first time at this one. We went in, and met Gail, who would do my hair. “And what do you want?” Gail asked. “The works,” Sylvia announced.

“I’m perfectly able to figure out what I want,” I said reprovingly.

“No, you can’t,” Sylvia answered. “Have I ever given you bad advice?”

She turned to Gail. “Jean’s got a gig at the Carleton House restaurant playing cocktail piano five evenings a week. She needs to look glamorous.”

“I want something that is easy to take care of, since I have to look good five days in a row. I wonder if I could have a standing appointment for Wednesday afternoons. I play Wednesday through Sunday.”

Gail lifted up some of my hair. “When was the last time you had a trim? You have some split ends. You ever try highlights?”

“It’s been a while,” I responded, “and no, I’ve never tried highlights.”

Sylvia felt compelled to explain why. “You see, Jean is a boy, so she cannot have highlights when she is in boy mode. She’ll be dressed as a female all summer, so she can have highlights.”

Gail gave me a questioning look. “Sylvia’s right. I can have highlights and a very feminine style until Labor Day, at which time the highlights have to go and I need a style which is less feminine.”

“Why do you need to wear skirts or dresses this summer, just to play cocktail piano?” Gail asked.

“I got the job when Sylvia and I went to the restaurant, at which time I was wearing a dress. They hired me as a woman.”

“You’re not, umm., err?” Gail asked.

“No, I’m not gay or transgendered,” I answered. Sylvia just rolled her eyes when I said this.

“Then why did you wear a dress?”

“It’s a long story. If you want, I can explain it to you while you do my hair.”

“This has got to be good,” Gail said, with a smile. “Do you want a make over?” she added.

“Of course she does,” chimed in Sylvia.

“Okay, Honey,” Gail said, “when we’re done with you, you’ll look good enough to win a beauty pageant.”

Sylvia couldn’t let that pass. “She already has.”

“What?” Gail asked.

“It’s all part of the story,” I responded,

Gail examined my face. “I can see why that could have happened. Your face is too pretty for a boy.”

Gail then led me to a chair. “I’m going to wash and trim out the split ends. Then we’ll decide what to do with this beauty. What kind of styles have you tried before?”

“A french twist, a pony tail, brushed back with a headband,” I answered.

“Which one did you like best?” she asked.

“All of them,” I replied.

“Can I change the color?”

“As long as it’s not too much. After all, I’ll have to dye it back to it’s normal color at the end of the summer and I return to college as a boy.”

Gail then began to work on my hair, during which time I told her about my times in skirts and dresses, with a lot of volunteered commentary coming from Sylvia.

“So, Sylvia is your only girlfriend,” Gail observed, “and no boyfriend?”

“You’ve got that right!” exclaimed Sylvia.

“And you don’t mind it when he wears women’s clothes?” she asked Sylvia.

“I don’t mind, in fact I like it. It turns me on,” Sylvia answered.

We, and that included Sylvia and Gail, then selected a style. I suggested an up do, and Sylvia provided the details.

When my hair was done, I was moved to a makeup station. When finished, I loved the look. I had also asked for a manicure. “Do you want artificial nails” the manicurist asked.

“I have a job as a pianist, so the answer is no. Just trim them and shape them.”

* * *

The day arrived when I was to start my job. I used a hair remover and took a long bubble bath, which left me with a feminine aroma. I took my time to get ready. Sylvia had insisted on stockings and garters, and I did have to use the corset to fit into my cocktail dresses. Because of the dark color of my dresses, I had to wear black stockings and black lingerie. I had an appointment at the salon that afternoon for my hair and makeup, and for this I wore a skirt and blouse.

After my visit to the salon, I trimmed my nails and used a dark maroon polish to go with my make up. At five I put on my dress and added some costume jewelry. When done, I looked in the mirror. ‘Pretty darn good,’ I said to myself.

Driving to the restaurant in heels meant that I had to drive very carefully. I also reminded myself that my license identified me as a male, so I didn’t want to get pulled over by the police. I parked in back and let myself in using the employee entrance. The manager greeted me as I entered. “Ready for the big day?” he asked.

“I think so,” I answered, How do I look?” I turned around so he could see. Naturally, when I did that the slit in my skirt opened, showing a lot of leg. He smiled when he saw that.

“Very good,” he commented, “I want you to come with me up front for a minute.” When we got there, I saw a big poster, professionally done, that said, ‘For a limited time only, international recording star Jean Torne.’ Below this was my picture and below that it said, ‘Every Wednesday through Sunday, 6 to 9 through Labor Day.’ I was impressed, and I thanked the manager. Near the bottom, the poster said that my CD’s were available for purchase.

There were quite a few patrons in the lounge, and I could feel their eyes following me as I walked to the piano. I sat down, gave the patrons a big smile, and started playing. After playing for a while, I noticed that there was some applause after each number. I bowed my head in acknowledgment. There were a group of businessmen sitting near the piano. Then one of the men came up to the piano, and put some money in my tip jar. “I heard that you can sing. Are you going to?”

In response, I said, “let me see if this microphone is on.” It was. I decided that Parlez-moi D’Amour would be a good number. I took the microphone and said, “I’m going to sing a song in French, roughly translated as ‘Speak to me of Love,’ I want you to imagine you are in a cellar night club in Paris in the 1930s, when Lucienne Boyer sang this song.” While I sang, I noticed that conversations between the patrons had stopped. When I finished, I received a pleasant round of applause, so I stood up and curtsied, naturally showing a lot of leg coming out of the slit in my skirt. The men seemed to like this, as did the manager who told me so when I took my first break.

My first week was very successful. The manager told me that a lot of people were coming in just to hear me play and sing. “Liquor sales are up,” he told me, “That makes us very happy.”

I had some business cards printed up which said, ‘Cocktail Piano With Jean,’ which had my cell phone number on it.

* * *

A few weekends later Sylvia and her parents came up to hear me perform. Sylvia and her parents were all wearing summer dresses. I sat with them during a break. “You all look so pretty,” I said.

Sylvia’s Dad smiled. “I just wanted to join in with the fun,” he said, “or at least as much fun as I can have when wearing this blasted corset.”

“Don’t complain to me. You Daughter made me buy dresses which make it necessary for me to wear a ‘blasted corset,’ so if you want to blame anyone, blame Sylvia,” I said.

“But you both look so good,” Sylvia said defensively.

“Sylvia told us that you are dressing as a female all the time during this summer,” Sylvia’s Mon said.

“I had my hair styled with highlights added for the my job this summer, so I couldn’t very well walk around wearing boy’s clothes,” I commented.

“I don’t know about that,” Sylvia retorted, “most of the college girls walk around wearing unisex clothes, but I have to admit that you look better dressed as a girl.”

“So, what do you do with your time off?” Sylvia’s Mom asked.

“I work on music, read, shop, and even go swimming,” I answered, “I found this delightful one-piece suit with a little skirt on the bottom to cover up a certain area.”

“You’re going to have some interesting tan lines by the end of the summer,” Sylvia chuckled.

“I’ll deal with that when school starts,” I responded.

“Like how?”

“Maybe a tanning booth, topless, I guess.”

Sylvia’s Dad was looking at me. “Do guys ever hit on you? The reason I ask is that when my wife and I go out with me wearing a dress, I get hit on. How do you deal with that?”

“I tell them that I have a very jealous lover,” I answered with a smile.

“Darn tooting,” Sylvia interjected.

“What do you do?” I asked Sylvia’s Dad.

“I tell them that I’m married,” he answered.

* * *

It was later that week that I got a call from Mr. Nicholas. “I hear you’re doing well at the restaurant. Any thoughts about another CD?”

“I can come to see you on any Monday or Tuesday,” I said. “I also have written some new songs, and I can bring the scores with me.” We arranged that I would come over a week from Monday.

* * *

One evening while I was performing, I threw in ‘Parlez-moi D’Amour.’ This caught the attention of a group who turned out to be a committee of professors. They were at the college to plan a symposium on French nineteenth century literature. As I was ready to take my break, two of them came up to me. “Great song,” one of them said. The other asked, in French, how I came to know the song. Of course I responded in French. I added that I was a French literature major. They all liked this and a discussion of French literature ensued.

One of them picked up one of my business cards and said, “We’re planning a symposium here over the Christmas holidays, and we wonder if you would be available to play for the reception,”

“We had planned to play a CD during the reception, but live music would be better,” another one said. He turned to the rest of the committee and asked, “Do you have that CD?”

Just then a man got up from the table with a CD in his hand. Surprise, it was Bob’s Father. He looked at me and began to laugh. “If you want to know if she knows these songs,” he started, holding up the CD, “look closely at the CD and her. This is her CD.”

After the break, I played and sang each song from the CD and added a few extras. I was hired for the symposium gig. They all stayed to listen until I was finished at nine. After that, Bob’s Father came up to me to chat. He volunteered that he, his wife and maybe even Bob would be at the symposium. It would be nice to connect with Bob, since I had previously pretended to be Bob’s girlfriend to deflect some grief Bob was receiving because he was gay, and I wanted to know if his parents were still giving him grief.

Chapter 45 - Some Changes.

It was in July that Sylvia visited me for a weekend. After some passionate lovemaking, Sylvia and I were lying in bed, naked. She was looking at my chest. “Your nipples and areolae look bigger than I remember,” she said.

“Yeah,” I replied, “and they are more sensitive.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“I called my Mom. She called her Doctor, and the Doctor ordered some blood and other tests. I can have the tests done here and the results sent to my Doctor. I have an appointment to see the Doctor a week from Monday. I’m seeing if I can make an appointment with my counselor the same day.”

“Have you thought any more about whether you want to transition?”

“I’ve thought about it a lot, it’s just that I haven’t come to any conclusions.”

“How come?”

“I like our lovemaking too much.”

* * *

I saw the Doctor. “Well, your hormone imbalance has shifted a bit. Nothing to be alarmed about, but your estrogen level is higher that when we had our last test. Have you noticed any other changes?”

“It takes me longer to get aroused, and when I am, it doesn’t seem quite as hard.”

“Are you getting attracted to boys?”

“No, not really,” I answered, “Sylvia and I have remained very close.”

“Have you kissed any boys, or had any sex with them?”

“Except for a casual kiss or so, the answer is no,” I replied, “are you suggesting that I do?”

“No, I just wondered, but if you do, I’d like to know about it, next time you come in.”

She had me put on a disposable examination gown and get up on the examination table. She pulled out the stirrups and I put my feet in them, She then began an examination of my penis and testicles. All of her touching caused an understandable reaction, which did not escape her notice. She smiled, and said, “Well, it seems that everything is working down there. You say your reaction time is slower, and you don’t get as hard. Could you manipulate yourself, so I can see?”

Now I was really embarrassed, but I began stroking my penis. The Doctor stopped me and grabbed my penis to see just how hard it had become. “Maybe this is not the right environment to get you hard.”

She then had me sit up and removed the gown to allow her to look at my chest.

She looked at, prodded and poked at my nipples, which caused them to get bigger and harder. “There’s something there,” she said.

“What?” I demanded to know.

“You’ve got the beginnings of breasts,” she said. “It might be a reaction to the higher estrogen level.”

She then looked at the test results for a few second, and said, “I want you to have the same blood tests toward the end of the year, and see me when you are home from school for the holidays.”

* * *

My playing and singing gathered some interest and I picked up some other gigs. The additional money was welcome.

I kept myself busy over the summer, and at last I noticed that Labor Day was quickly approaching. I saw that the words ‘Final Week’ were added to my poster. I had dressed as a girl all summer. It was just easier for me, and frankly, I liked it. I had been hit on more times than I could remember, but because of the watchful eyes of the bartenders, nothing bad happened.

It was with some sadness and regret that I visited the salon after my gig at the Carleton House was over. I had my hair dyed to get rid of the highlights, and to get a style which could be a male style. Gail showed me how to switch my hair from a girl style to a boy style and back again. “I’m going to miss our Wednesday afternoon sessions,” she said. I told her that I also would miss them, but I would be back from time to time for a trim and maybe something more dramatic.

Chapter 46 - The Apartment.

All of the apartments in town were on a one year lease, tied to the school year. This meant that the girls would have to pay the rent for their apartment over the summer even though they were not at school. One Sunday afternoon, the girls and I discussed the apartment. “None of us will be here over the summer,” Sue said to me, “but you will. If you could pay half of the rent, the rest of us will kick in the other half, even though none of us will be here.”

“Ann’s graduating, but the other three of us would like to keep the apartment, so we plan on signing a new lease for next year,” Sylvia said, “We’ll be looking for a fourth girl to live here and share the rent. We’d like you to show the apartment to any new students while you’re here.”

“What about Frank?” Ann asked, “he’s not expecting you to room with him next fall, is he?”

“No, I think that he and his boyfriend will be sharing a room.” The girls all nodded their heads, knowingly.

Since I couldn’t very well stay at the girls’ apartment during the school year, I contacted the building manager for the building which housed the girls’ apartment. There was a studio apartment available. Not only available, but the current tenant wanted to live there until the fall term started, and she would sublease the apartment from me until then.

The apartment consisted of a main room, a small kitchen, and a large open closet which served as a dressing room. The bathroom was connected to the open closet. There was a built in bed which was behind some doors in the main room and which folded down at night.

I met with my sub-tenant at the apartment. All of the furniture was used, and somewhat worse for wear. There were some things that she wanted to either sell or, if she couldn’t, she would take with her. She told me that she definitely was taking her sound system and computer, which did not bother me since I already had my own. We worked out a deal where I bought some of the things and she just threw in the rest.

Setting up housekeeping from scratch meant that I made a lot of shopping trips when I realized that I needed more stuff.

When Sylvia arrived for the start of the term, I naturally had to show off my new digs. She had to see the bed, and commented that it was a double. She also noted that most of the clothes in the closet were my Jean clothes. That evening, she had to try out the bed, and declared it acceptable.

“You really could use a vanity,” she said, after examining the bathroom sink and mirror. “Get dressed, and we’ll go looking for one.” When she said that I was wearing my boy clothes.

“I am dressed,” I declared.

“Not when you are looking to get a vanity,” she countered. She went into my closet and picked out what she thought was appropriate. It consisted of a bra, white capris, a pink top and wedge sandals, all of which she handed to me.

“Take off those clothes and put these on,” she said, and when I did she saw that I was wearing panties under my boy clothes. “Good start,” she said.

It turned out that I convinced Sylvia that I could use my desk as a vanity, and I only had to buy a big mirror with lights around it.

The next day Sylvia returned with garment bags and suitcases, which she unpacked and preempted some of my closet space and dresser drawers. “So I don’t have to go back to my apartment to change,” she explained, “You’re free to borrow any of them, as long as I can borrow some of yours.” This arrangement required that I buy an additional clothes hamper.

Chapter 47 - The Halloqueen Returns.

About a week before the semester was to start, some of the officers of the sororities came to the campus to plan activities for the year. They had heard that I was playing and singing at the restaurant, and on Wednesday they visited the lounge at the restaurant to listen to me. During my break they invited me to sit with them for a few minutes. “Great performance,” one said, “but of course we expected no less from our Halloqueen. We have some things planned for you if you have time. How about a meeting some afternoon?”

I agreed to this and a time and place was set.

It appeared that they wanted me to participate in the new student welcome which would happen the weekend before classes started. “Of course, we have big plans for the Halloween dance,” I was told. “We’re going to miss our darling Halloqueen after that.” They told me that my reign was as good as anyone could remember.

Naturally, my fraternity wanted to get some mileage from me as Halloqueen, so I had activities planned for that, some of which involved me showing some leg. I had no problem with that.

When Halloween rolled around, I did the usual welcome and first dances.

Frank was there, without his lover, and he came up to me. “You’ve remembered to put in a good word for me about joining RLE, didn’t you?” I told him that I did, and I congratulated him on getting off probation. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said, and he gave me a brief kiss. I savored that kiss, and stood there to see if he would kiss me again. He didn’t.

Watching the Halloqueen contest was a lot of fun for me, especially since my reign would soon be over. The winner of this year’s contest was actually a girl, and I took great pleasure in putting her sash over her head and crowning her with the tiara.

Chapter 48 - Strange stuff.

I wore boy clothes almost all of the time after classes started, with the exception of my Halloqueen duties, some gigs, and occasional dressing at the request of Sylvia. One weekend her parents visited her. Both her Mom and Dad wore skirts. Her Dad confided that he was wearing a corset I could see that it greatly improved his figure.

They invited Sylvia and me out to dinner, and insisted that I wear a dress. Naturally, that meant that I had to wear a corset. “If I have to wear a corset, you also should have to,” her Dad said. They wanted to go to a nice restaurant, and Sylvia suggested we go to the Carleton House where I had played the past summer. Adele, the usual pianist was there, so we sat in the lounge. When she saw me, she invited me to trade sets with her.

The evening was very enjoyable. I really liked her Parents, and I think that her Dad liked it that I was a cross-dresser.

Chapter 49 - Thanksgiving at Sylvia’s house

I split the Thanksgiving holiday between my family on Thanksgiving day, and Sylvia’s house on Friday and Saturday. After a delightful Thanksgiving meal, my Dad asked me, “Still wearing dresses?”

“Every once and a while,” I replied.

Mother wouldn’t let me say more. “She has to when she performs,” she interjected, “and from the photos I’ve seen, she looks gorgeous.”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t,” my father rejoined. I noted the use of the female pronoun. “I just wanted to know,” he added.

“By the way, tell your Father what the Doctor said,” she said, and I did.

I got up early on Friday morning to get ready for the trip to Sylvia’s house. I took a delightful bubble bath, fixed my hair and put on some makeup. I put on a pleated skirt and a long sleeved blouse with ruffles. Because there was a nip in the air, I wore stockings, along with a corset. While I hauled my suitcase downstairs, I saw my Father in the living room. “You look delightful,” he said with a smile.

I thanked him, and gave him a big hug.

I put on a frocked coat, and took my suitcase to my car, gave my parents hugs and headed off to Sylvia’s house. When I arrived, I noticed that Sylvia’s Dad was wearing a suit. “Mom an I are going to my Aunt’s house today,” he said as an explanation.

“So, no dress?” I asked.

“No dress,” he confirmed.

“We’ll spend the night,” Sylvia’s Mom said, and with a wicked smile she added, “I’m making him wear panties under that suit, and I’ve packed a sexy nightie for him for tonight.”

Sylvia’s Mom had fixed a light lunch, and we ate it at the kitchen table. After clearing it away, we lingered over tea and coffee. Somehow, my appointment with my Doctor came up. The recent developments concerning my nipples was discussed, and I had to strip to the waist so they all could see. I inadvertently let slip that my Doctor had asked if I had kissed any boys. “And you said?” Sylvia asked. I affirmed what I had told my Doctor.

After her parents had left, Sylvia asked, “You must be tired from the drive. I think you could use a nap.” She took my hand and led me to her room. I didn’t get a lot of sleep. That evening we dressed up and went out to dinner, and spent the night together.

I was filling in for Adele at the Carleton House on Sunday so she could spend some time with her family. Halfway in my second hour, I saw Frank, my former roommate sitting in the lounge, alone. I sat with him during my break. “Where’s your main squeeze?” I asked.

“Some of the guys at the frat fixed me up with a date with a girl. It was nothing, just to round out the numbers. However, he didn’t see it that way and pitched a hissy, accused me of cheating, and said he’ll never talk to me again.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“It’s not your fault. He’ll miss me, so I expect that things will be alright in a few days.” He paused for a moment, and continued, “You look really foxy tonight. If I wasn’t, you know what, I’d want to kiss you.”

“Is that all that’s stopping you?” I blurted out, instantly regretting what I had said. He leaned over and put his lips on mine. I could feel his kiss all the way to my feet.

* * *

My Doctor’s lab orders arrived in the mail that week. In addition to the usual hormone balance test, there was a test for a sperm count. That confused me a bit, so I called her on the phone about the sperm count. “I wanted to see if there were any other effects from your hormone imbalance,” she said.

“How am I supposed to do this?” I asked.

She chuckled. “Go to the lab, and they’ll give you a container, and you put your ejaculate in it the morning before you to the lab, or you can do it at the sperm bank attached to the lab. I heard they have private rooms with dirty magazines and a comfortable chair,” she added with more chuckling.

When I told Sylvia about this, with a wicked grin she offered to help. I declined her offer.

* * *

I had appointments with Mom’s Doctor and my Counselor for the next Monday, so I drove home for a long weekend. Mother was concerned about my nipples and nothing would do unless she could see them herself. Then she began to touch them. “Mom,” I complained.

“What is it Honey?” she asked, without removing her hand.

”They’re sensitive,” I responded. Her touching had made my nipples enlarged and hard.

“Oh,” she said, finally understanding, and she took her hands away. “Make sure you mention this to the Doctor.”

With a wicked grin, I said, “That they’re sensitive, or that you like playing with them?”

“Hummph!” she grunted.

On Monday morning I decided to wear a skirt and blouse for my visits to the Doctor and the Counselor, but waited until Dad had left for work before getting dressed. Given the situation, I wore a silky camisole under my blouse.

Once in the Doctor’s office, she got right to the point. “Your hormone imbalance is just about the same as last time, even if the physical manifestations are slightly increased.” She had me put on a disposable examination gowns and get on the examination table. She then physically examined my chest. Her touching made my nipples larger and hard. I blushed. “Does the camisole help?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “I like to wear it if I’m not wearing a bra.”

“So you’re still dressing?”

“Yeah,” I responded, “I’ve been doing piano gigs, and for that I only wear women’s clothes.”

She then lifted the bottom of the examination gown, and pushed, pulled and prodded. I began to react to the examination. “Well, things still seem to be working down there,” she said, “The fact that you could get a sample for a sperm count also proves that.”

She then sat down on a stool. “Well, your sperm count is in an acceptable range, if a bit on the low side.”

“Does that mean that I could get a girl pregnant?”

“I think so. Why?”

“I’d like to have children.”

Shortly after the Doctor’s examination, I had a session with my Counselor. We discussed what I had been doing since our last session, and my piano playing came up. “So, you dressed as a woman the whole summer. How did that make you feel?”

“Great,” I said, “since I was playing the piano at the restaurant five nights a week, I had my hair styled and highlights added. I also plucked my eyebrows a bit. I didn’t think that wearing boy’s clothes fit in, so it was just as easy to be a girl for the whole summer.”

“What did your girlfriend think about that?”

“She seemed to like it a lot,” I answered, “it might just be genetic.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

“It turns out that her Dad is a crossdresser. Sylvia, her parents, and I went out several times as four females. He Dad and I shared being uncomfortable having to wear corsets under our dresses. My dresses wouldn’t fit without a corset, and Sylvia’s Mom made her Dad wear one when he wore a dress.”

“Very, very interesting,” my Counselor said as she frantically scribbled note on her pad. She then looked at me, and said, “I see you’re wearing a skirt and blouse today. Do you continue to wear skirts and dresses all the time?”

“Hardly, I’m registered as a male at school, so I can’t,” I answered. “But a lot of times I wear panties under my boy clothes,” I added.

“Why?” she asked.

“I like the way they feel, and Sylvia likes it when I do,” I answered.

“She checks it out?”

“Yeah,” I said, omitting to mention how Sylvia checked it out.

She changed the topic, and said, “How do you see yourself after you graduate?”

“I’d like to get married, have children and get a job. To do these things I’ll have to be Eugene, not Jean. After all my diploma will have my male name on it.”

“Are you telling me that you will stop cross-dressing?”

“Heavens no!” I responded, “I’ll continue to dress when I can.”

She consulted her notes and said, “You previously told me that you weren’t dating boys. Has that changed?”

“No,” I responded, “I only date Sylvia.”

“Then do you feel that you might be a lesbian?”

“Not really.”

“Have you kissed any boys?”

“Yeah, a few times.”

“Anything further than that?”


“I only ask that to see if you have any homosexual tendencies, but with your limited experience, we can’t come to any conclusions.

* * *

I related my counselor’s statements to Sylvia. She surprised me when she said, “Maybe you should go on a date with a boy.”

“Wouldn’t that bother you?”

“Of course it would,” she said, “but I think we should know your reaction. It might be possible that you are bisexual.”

“But I don’t know any boys, at least not well enough to do that.”

“How about Frank?”

“I don’t think his boyfriend would stand for that,” I said. I paused in thought for a minute. “Maybe Bob?” I said.

“Who is Bob,” she challenged.

“Back in high school, Sandy, my then girlfriend, had some friends who knew this guy, Bob. Bob’s gay, and was getting a lot of grief from his parents. It was set up that I would dress and go on a pretend date with him, so his parents would see him going out with what they though was a girl.”

“And. . . ?” Sylvia said, looking for more details.

“It worked, and after our pretend date, Bob’ Parents invited me to a family gathering to show me off. Bob’s Dad is a professor and teaches French. I ended up playing the piano and singing in French. Well, it turns out that Bob’s Parents are attending a symposium on French literature over the holidays, and heard me sing at the Carlton House. So I am hired to play and sing at a reception for the symposium attendees, and it turns out that his Parents are dragging Bob along to the symposium.”

“So you could spend some time with him. I suppose?”


“And maybe some kissing? Maybe something more?” Sylvia asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, “it might be a total disaster.”

“But it might not,” Sylvia said. “He does know that you’re a boy, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah.” I answered.

“But that probably wouldn’t bother him since he’s gay,” she said.

“But what about me?” I asked, “what if I like it?”

“It doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re gay, you might just be bisexual, after all, you seem to like our time together.”

“I do,” I affirmed.

“Then go ahead, and give him a good kiss, with a lot of tongue,” she said, “and by the way, put some condoms is your purse, just in case,” she added with a leer.

I gave her a dirty look.

* * *

Chapter 50 - Christmas break

I had some gigs playing for Christmas parties. It turned out that I couldn’t head for home until Christmas Eve, and could only stay for Christmas Day, since I was heading off to Sylvia’s house the next day. Even that time was cut short since I was preforming at the symposium.

Christmas at my home was nothing out of the ordinary. My sisters seemed to treat me like a girl. I woke up early in the morning and headed off to Sylvia’s house.

Since I had to head back to campus the next day, I spent the night at Sylvia’s house. I had expected to sleep on the couch, but Sylvia’s Parents surprised me with their Christmas gifts. They gave me and Sylvia matching night gowns. When bedtime rolled around, no one made any move to fix the couch for the night. Both of Sylvia’s Parents smiled when Sylvia led me to her room, and as we climbed the stairs, Sylvia’s Mom said, “Before you hop in bed, we would like to see how the nightgowns look on both of you,” It appeared that her Parents had no problem with Sylvia and I sleeping together.

* * *

I had scheduled a visit to the salon for the early afternoon, so I had to leave Sylvia’s house shortly after breakfast. I wore hose and a corset under a skirt and blouse. Gail met me at the door of the salon. “Another gig?” she asked/

“Yeah, I’m playing for a reception for a symposium of college profs,” I answered, “The topic is French literature from the nineteenth century, so I think a french twist would be an appropriate hair style.” I also had the salon do my makeup.

Suitably glamorous, I then went to my apartment to get dressed for my gig. I chose a deep red dress with a hem that was well above my knees and with a slit on the left side. I also wore a black corset, black stockings and a pair of black control panties, along with black court shoes with a two inch heel. For jewelry I wore only two rings, but no bracelets, because they interfered with my playing. I did, however put on a necklace and earings which sparkled.

The symposium was being held at a local hotel, and I arrived about an hour before my gig started, because I wanted to check out the piano and where it was located in the room. I also wanted to see if there was a microphone, because I suspected that the committee might want me to sing. After I finished this, I went in search of a place to relax until my gig started. However, I wasn’t able to do much relaxing because shortly after I sat down, Bob and his Parents came into the hotel lobby, and headed straight to me. After the usual greetings, Bob said that I looked particularly gorgeous, and I smiled in return. Bob noted my coat on the chair next to me. “I’ve got a room,” he said, “maybe you’d like to put your coat in it to keep it safe?”

“As long as I know where to find you when I’m ready to leave,” I answered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be near you all evening,” he responded. So we went up to his room to deposit my coat. When we were in his room, I asked where his parents were staying. “On another floor in a different wing,” he said with a leer. With that he put his hands on my shoulders and drew me closer to him. I appeared that he was getting ready to kiss me.

“Hold on,” I said, pushing him away. “I don’t want to mess up my makeup.”

“Then maybe later?” he said with an inviting smile.

“Maybe, and then again, maybe not,” I said coyly.

There were quite a few people in the reception room when Bob and I entered. I quickly went to the piano, or at least as quickly as my dress would permit. While doing so, the slit in the skirt opened up a bit, drawing some appreciative looks from some of the men present. I smoothed out my skirt under me and sat on the piano bench, and immediately began playing.

Bob’s Dad came up to the piano. “Are you going to sing, too?” he asked in French.

“If that’s what you and the committee want me to do,” I replied in French. “Any requests?”

“Anything from your CD,” he answered, also in French.

“Okay,” I replied, naturally in French, “I have also practiced some french music from the nineteenth century.”

“How appropriate,” he said.

So I played and softly sang, since I was only providing background music. Whatever my intention was, I noted that I had attracted a group of admirers, mainly men. The didn’t talk, they just listened.

I was surprised when I saw my high school French teacher, Mlle. Vert was present. She came over to the piano and smiled at me. “It looks like your class project may have started something,” she said, with a chuckle.

“I guess so,” I replied, “I’ll explain it when I have a break.”

Bob, true to his word, stayed close. He stood to my left, which gave him a good view of the slit in my dress and what it revealed.

I was really enjoying myself, and the time seemed to fly. Finally, a member of the committee came up and took the microphone and announced that dinner was ready to be served. He then announced, “The committee and I want to thank Mlle. Jean for her music. I hope you note that she specially gave us quite a bit of French music from the nineteenth century.”

As the crowd was filing out for dinner, Bob’s Mother came up to Bob and me. “I don’t know what your plans are, but if you’d like, you and Bob can be our guests at the dinner.”

“That is very kind of you, but I was thinking of taking Bob to the Carleton House for dinner. I played cocktail piano there most of the summer, and I was thinking that Adele, the regular pianist and I would trade off sets.” With this, Bob had a big smile on his face.

“Well, I can understand,” Bob’s Mother said, “That sounds a lot more interesting than the dinner and speeches.” Her smile at us spoke volumes. She wanted to encourage a romance between Bob and me.

We then went up to Bob’s room to retrieve our coats, but once inside with the door closed, Bob again put his hands on my shoulders, and drew me close to him. “If only she knew . . .” he said with a smirk. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to mine. I returned his kiss, and we played tongue tag with each other. When he held me close to him, I could feel that he was getting aroused. Luckily, I had tucked and was wearing control panties, so he couldn’t feel me getting aroused.

We broke the kiss for a few moments, and I said, “I thought you only went for boys.”

“That may be true, but I have on good authority that underneath your feminine beauty lurks a boy,” he said softly. We kissed again.

“You kiss like you are turned on, but the rest of you says otherwise,” he whispered.

“Tucking and control panties,” I laughed in his ear.

He reached behind me, and began to unzip my dress, slowly, as if waiting to see if I objected. I didn’t.

We separated and he helped me pull my dress over my head, and followed it with my slip. He looked at my crotch, but there was no sign of male organs aroused or otherwise.

“Control panties?” he questioned.

“If you spent more time with girls, you would know,” I said. With that, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of my control panties and began to slowly slide them down, again waiting to see if I objected. There was no objection, and when my panties were partway down, a part of my anatomy revealed itself. He pushed me down on the bed and kneeled down between my legs. I grabbed my purse, opened it, and handed him a condom.

When he and I were finished, he stood up and began to remove his pants. “No,” I said, “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Anyway, I want to take you to dinner.”

I got dressed, and went into the bathroom to repair my makeup. “You need to clean the lipstick from your face,” I suggested to him.

When we were again respectable looking, we took our coats and headed out to the Carleton House.

* * *

The lounge at the Carleton House had a good crowd, but I was able to arrange to eat in the lounge, near the piano. Adele saw me and invited me to trade sets with her. I introduced Bob. During a break, Adele and I went to the washroom together. “He’s a nice looking boy,” Adele commented.

“I met him when we were in high school. He’s here with his Parents; They are attending a symposium. I played at the reception, and I’m rescuing him from some after dinner speakers.” Adele then looked at the slit in my dress.

“It looks like he might need someone to rescue him from you,” she said with a smile.

“I don’t think he wants to be rescued,” I replied.

Bob and I sat next to each other on a banquette at our table. When I returned from the restroom, I sat to his right. Shortly after sitting, I felt his hand move up the slit in my dress and rub my thigh. I left it there for a while, enjoying the experience. I then dropped my left hand under the table to move his hand away. However, when I grabbed his hand he moved both of our hands to his lap. “You turn me on,” he whispered.

“Obviously,” I whispered, confirming what I had felt. “Behave yourself,” I added, and we both moved our hands to the table top.

We stayed until Adele was finished with her gig. “Want me to drop you off at the hotel?” I suggested.

“Only if you go in with me,” he responded.

“No,” I said, “I don’t want to be seen leaving your room by myself.”

“Okay, then where?”

I didn’t want the evening to end. I really wanted another kiss. “How about my place?” I suggested, immediately realizing what I had said.

“Sounds good to me,” he said with a leering smile.

* * *

When we arrived at my apartment, Bob looked around. “Cozy,” he commented.

“I don’t need a lot of room, just for myself,” I said.

“No roommate, then?”

“No,” I answered.

“I need to use the washroom,” he said, “where is it?”

“This apartment isn’t very large,” I replied snidely, “it shouldn’t be that hard to find. Go through the dressing area,” and I pointed the way.

He couldn’t help but notice all the skirts and dresses in the dressing area. “You’re really into this girl thing,” he commented.

“They’re not all mine,” I said, “some belong to my girlfriend Sylvia.”

“Interesting,” he said, leaving volumes unsaid.

“I have some soft drinks, or maybe you’d like tea or coffee?”

“Coffee sounds great,” he responded, and with that I went into the kitchen area and started some water for the french press. When I came back, he was sitting on the couch.

“Sit down next to me,” he said patting the cushion to his right. When I sat down, he put his hand on my leg and began to rub, moving his hand up the slit in my dress. He took his other hand, put it on my shoulder and pulled me to him. Our lips met.

We then embraced each other, our tongues dancing in each other’s mouths. It was wonderful. The thought crossed my mind that I’m a boy and I’m kissing another boy, and I really like it. What does that mean? What am I?

Bob’s hands move to his belt, and he unfastened it and then opened the zipper in his pants. I just watched. He lifted himself up a bit, and pulled his pants and underpants down. He was totally aroused. He took my hand in his and put it on his manhood. This was a new experience for me.

“I know that you want to kiss it and lick it,” he said softly, and I did. I liked it.

When that was over, we kissed again and again. “I never did that before,” I confessed.

“It wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said, and without waiting for an answer, he continued, “and I bet you enjoyed it.”

“Yes,” I said softly.

“Then let me reciprocate,” he said, and unzipped my dress.

We did it again, and after cuddling for some time, we both got dressed and I drove him back to the hotel. As I was letting him out of the car, he said, “I’d love it if you became my boyfriend. There are other things we can do to each other, which are a lot of fun.”

“I don’t think I can,” I replied, “I have a girlfriend, and I’m in love with her,” I added.

Chapter 51 - Revelations.

I really didn’t know what I would tell Sylvia about what happened. I felt that I had cheated on her, and to make matters worse, it was with a boy.

I didn’t have anything planned for the time until classes resumed after the Christmas break, so I drove to Sylvia’s house to spend a few days with her and her parents.

The KGB had nothing on Sylvia when it came to interrogation. After dinner one evening we were sitting on the couch. “You didn’t tell me about your playing the piano for the reception for the symposium,” she started out.

“I was okay,” I answered, “they all seemed to like it, and best of all not only did I get paid, but I got a very generous tip.”

“You mentioned that Bob might be there,” she continued, “so was he?”


“And how did that go?”

“I took him to the Carleton House, and I traded sets with Adele. He seemed to enjoy it.”

“Did you kiss him?” I started to blush with embarrassment.

“Well, kind of,” I answered.

“There in no ‘kind of’ when it comes to kissing,” she asserted, “either you did or you didn’t. So which was it?”

“I kissed him,” I confessed. “After what my Doctor said, I wanted to see what it was like.”

“Okay, what was it like?”

“It was okay,” I muttered.

“You’re holding out on me,” she said, “either you tell all, or it’s going to be a frigid night tonight, and for the foreseeable future,” she threatened.

“Okay, okay,” I responded, “it was nice; I actually enjoyed it. It was better than I thought it would be.”

“Better than kissing me?” she asked menacingly.

I could see that there could be only one answer. “No, it’s a lot better kissing you.”

“I don’t know if I believe you, but we’ll let it slide,” she said, “anything more than kissing?”

I was on dangerous ground here, and didn’t make an immediate answer. Sylvia took my delay as an admission that there was more.

“Oral sex?”

“Yeah,” I finally admitted.

“By you or by him?”

“Both, it kind of just happened.”

“And did you enjoy both?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Would you do it again?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “after all, I’ll probably never see him again.”

“It doesn’t have to be with Bob,” she said, “after all, you could connect up with Frank.”

“I don’t think so. When Bob and I did it, I felt like I was cheating on you, and I didn’t like that feeling.”

Sylvia smiled. “That answers some questions. I think that you are a crossdressing bisexual,” she concluded.

“How do you come to that conclusion. After all you don’t know any crossdressing bisexuals to compare me with.”

“On the contrary,” she asserted, “I do. My Dad is one.”

“Okay, so he crossdresses,” I commented, “but bisexual? How do you know?”

“My parents told me,” she answered.

“Is your Mom okay with that?”

“She is, as long as she knows with whom he has sex. She doesn’t want him trolling around gay bars and having one night stands.”

“I’m still astonished,” I remarked, “But I think I can see her point.”

“Do you want to know who she thinks is a suitable partner for him?”



“That’s just too weird,” I said.

“But you would?” she asked.

“You can’t be okay with it, can you?” I asked, avoiding answering her question.

“As strange as it seems, I am,” she said, “so, answer my question, would you?”

“I guess so,” I reluctantly admitted.

“Great,” she exclaimed. She stood up and pulled me up with her. We went upstairs to her room. “Put on that nightgown you got for Christmas,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

When she came back I was wearing the nightgown. She didn’t come back alone; her parents were with her. Her Dad was wearing a nightgown and had a big smile on his face.

Sylvia and her Mom were also smiling. They turned around and headed for the door, leaving me alone with her Dad. “Have a good time, you two,” her Mother said as she closed the door.

Chapter 52 - Marriage

Later that week, I proposed to Sylvia, and she accepted. I knew that she, like I, wanted children, which ruled out any thought of me transitioning. As she said, I was getting into a weird family, but it was one which accepted my crossdressing and bisexuality. When I told my family I conveniently left out the part about Sylvia’s Dad and me.

Sylvia, her parents, and I celebrated the engagement as four ladies going out to dinner. During dinner, I saw Sylvia and her Mom playing scissors, rock and paper. Naturally, I was curious. It turned out it was to determine with whom I would be spending the night.

Calling Sylvia’s family ‘weird’ would be an understatement, but I fit right in, a crossdressing bisexual.

The end.

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