Front Paige News

Front Paige News –

“Have you really looked at her photo. I think that is why she had to go with Caitlyn.” Doug handed his colleague Karen a tablet with the front page of that days edition going out to Asheville from a competitor’s newspaper. It was a story about Caitlyn Jenner and her position on Franklin Graham’s recent comments on something. It really didn’t matter what was said. It was salacious and sold papers.

She looked over the article that was on their front page. “So, is your theory that she is supposed to look like a Caitlyn in order to be named Caitlyn? What is a Caitlyn supposed to look like anyway?” Karen chuckled and slid the tablet back towards Doug.

Doug picked it back up and, with a few swipes, had a picture of Caitlyn Jenner placed next to a picture of Brooke Shields. He turned around the tablet to show Karen. “Not really. It is just that her name used to be Bruce. Right? One of the closest names to Bruce I can think of is Brooke. So, if she went with Brooke, then ...”

Karen slapped her head softly and laughed. “Oh, I see what you are saying now. Caitlyn does look like Brooke Shields. Oh, that would have been funny. Brooke Shields and Brooke Jenner. Together they sing their greatest hits.”

“Bingo. It could have been a marketing nightmare. All the rage of the late night infomercials.” Doug snickered. “You too can look like Brooke Shields with my magic makeup cream. My secrets to looking like Brooke Shields using the iso-tonner. Use it and you could also win a gold medal in the decathlon too. I used to look like a man. But now I look like Brooke thanks to my air driven convection oven that fries as well as dices.” They both laughed. Mostly out of boredom. It was one of those dreaded slow news cycles that had been known to end careers.

The two reporters worked on the Franklin State Gazette. And today, they sat drinking coffee in a Starbucks in Asheville, NC, weary from a day’s work of chasing leads that went nowhere fast. They started at five that morning and finished by nine that morning. They had decided to take a break. The problem with slow news days is that they dragged on as veteran reporters went around town trying to find a story. Any story.

Karen was a little better off than Doug. The ten year veteran reporter had found a human interest story on a well respected and beloved elementary school teacher who had donated more than 30 gallons of blood to the Red Cross. When one of the students found out, it went viral on Twitter. It at least gave her a solid ‘ata girl’ from her boss. Doug, on the other hand, needed to find something for tomorrow. Anything to show his boss he was working hard on something the paper could use to drum up more business.

Doug sat staring at his coffee. Karen was looking at the cork board when something caught her eye. “Hey Doug, you could learn to speak like a real woman.” Doug looked up and glared at her. He was about to say something when Karen continued, “No, seriously, there, on the message board, someone has a class on how to speak like a woman. And, there is a session tonight.”

“This is North Carolina, Karen, real men don’t speak like women.” Karen ignored the rather snide remark. She knew it was more out of frustration than personal conviction. Caffeine, she thought, does that to a man’s brain as she took a sip of her latte which almost burned her tongue. She got up and went over to the board a few steps away. She pulled out the push pin holding the class notice up to show Doug. The note stuck to it, so she pulled the pin from the note and put the push pin back on the message board. She turned to look at Doug to see how really desperate he was because his eyes were following the note. He didn’t stop her either. She then walked over to hand him the note. Doug grabbed it and slammed it onto the table. Face up still. He then slid his coffee cup around the table to swirl what was inside while looking over the notice at a distance half afraid to touch it and half afraid not to read it.

Lifting his coffee to his lips, he spouted and pouted. “Doesn’t look like I have any option, does it?” He offered a non-committal, “Thanks,” to excuse his depressed outlook.

Karen sat down and grabbed her latte and blew on it to cool it off a little more before she took a sip. She did that also to give her a moment to consider how to bring up the subject of how Doug should report on the voice class without offending his sometimes fragile ego. “Look Doug. It is just another human interest story. Except this one is a hot topic these days considering the photos you just showed me. Right?” He nodded in agreement. “Much better than my 30 gallon story. I wonder if you should consider taking the class too rather than just report on it as an outsider. That could give you a few weeks off from being yelled at to do more reporting. Kinda like undercover reporting. And ...” she leaned down and turned her head so she could look him in the eye as he drank his coffee with his eyes fixed on the paper, “you do have the looks for it.” She noted his long hair and youthful appearance made him feminine looking already.

Doug almost spit up his coffee on her at hearing that. He got defensive and said, “What the hell are you up to? Are you trying to turn me into some sort of ...”

Karen’s fire raged and she coarsely fired a pre-emptive strike at Doug. “Don’t you dare say faggot or I will slap that face of yours so hard you’ll land on Grandfather Mountain.” Doug reeled back and stopped. “You know I will do it too.” she added.

Doug stared at her for a moment. He rarely saw her anger come out. Calmly and slowly, he said, “I just feel like I am being forced into this by you. It should be my decision.”

“That’s fair. Part of it is true. But not for the reason you think.”

“And that would be?”

“Look, we are both human interest and community journalists. We compete all the time for a story. But this one has to be yours because only you can report on it.”

“How is that?”

“Look. You are obviously a man." Doug was quick to nod yes supporting her affirmation of his apparent manhood. Karen continued, "This is a class for trans women who are really men transitioning into being women. So, no matter how much I try to report on it, I won’t get it if I try to report on it. That is number one. Number two is that the people in the class likely don’t want to be called out. If you call the teacher of this class … who is …” She looked over the class advertisement for the name of the instructor. It was a woman named Carol Langley. “… Carol, and tell her you want to take the class to report on it and, by taking it yourself, you won’t have to invade the privacy of anyone there. I bet Carol will say yes to your attending. You probably won’t even have to show up en femme.”

Ignoring her use of an unfamiliar French phrase, Doug cut to the chase and pointedly asked, “Okay, is there a number three?”

“Yes. It will keep you out of circulation which will give me a chance to find other stories while you do yours. I am not going to be able to ride the blood bank story more than a day or two. The pickings out there are slim right now and we both need a chance to build up a little business to keep us in business. This is an opportunity for both of us.” Her honesty satisfied his original objection.

Mulling over the scrap of paper, Doug looked at her and said, “All right. But only because we are good friends and we don’t want to hurt each other’s career.” She nodded earnestly in agreement. He pulled out his notepad, a pen, and then pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number.

Carol Langley was on her back porch admiring the azaleas in bloom when her cell phone rang. She looked at the number. It was local, so she hit the green button on her screen to answer the call.

“Hello?” she simply said.

“Hello, is this Carol Langley?” After an affirmative grunt from her, he continued, “Yes, my name is Doug Davidson, I am a reporter with the Franklin State Gazette. I would like to do a story on what you are doing with female voice training?”

“Doug, I would appreciate the free publicity, but I have to warn you, I won’t let you near my clients, or rather students. I have to protect them first. So, other than that, I would be very happy to meet with you to discuss what I do.”

“I understand. And I am willing to do just that. But, a fellow reporter suggested that I take the course so that way I could report on my own personal experience instead of using your students for research. She said it would protect the privacy of your clients. Would that also be acceptable?”

Carol carefully considered the importance of what she had been asked to do and the fact he was prepared to protect her clients already. To accept this reporter into her class would still expose her students potentially to ridicule and further sufferance of a bully with a pulpit, in this case a newspaper. On the other hand, getting the word out about how to be more feminine in comportment with voice training could benefit more that just her meager clientele. Then something struck her. She had to draw a line that would make him behave. “Okay, I can have you take a month’s worth of classes. That will give you a solid perspective on what I do.”

“Great.” he said half enthusiastically with the rest being the false bravado a reporter uses to illicit more out of a story.

Carol continued, “However, there will be one requirement or the whole thing is off. In fact, because of the requirement, I won’t charge you for the lessons.”

“And what would that be?” Doug asked afraid of hearing the answer. Karen, who was listening to the conversation over the phone because of it being so loud gave Doug a concerned look. She suspected what was going to be said next and she wasn’t far wrong.

Carol proclaimed, “I expect you, like my clients, to come en femme.” There was that phrase Karen used a minute ago. What the hell did it mean, he thought.

“On fan … er … what does that mean? I don’t understand.” Doug inquired cautiously. Karen smirked and turned away not trying to shame him.

“En femme, not ‘on fan.’ It means dressed like a woman. Head to toe. With makeup on too. And tastefully, I might add. I see my class as a kind of finishing school for ladies, if you will. No slobs allowed.”

Keeping his cool was hard. “I’m sure.” he gulped. The ton of bricks that had just hit Doug not only took the wind out of his sails but it left him feeling like he needed something stronger in his coffee to numb his mind at hearing it.

Karen quickly got up and said into his free ear, “Tell her yes. And that you have a fellow reporter who will make sure you dress the part.” She patted him on the shoulder.

“Hold on a second. I need to verify something first.” He pressed the mute button on his phone and turned to Karen. “What do you mean help me dress the part? This isn’t some secret fascination on your part to dominate me is it?”

“No.” She blushed at the suggestion. “It is just that I can help you dress the part. So, you don’t have any excuse.” He looked up to the ceiling considering what was being asked of him. Frustrated, she added, “Dammit Doug, you need the story and you know it!”

He agreed. He took his phone off of mute. “Yes, Carol. My fellow reporter has agreed to help me do what you ask. She will even help me dress the part.” he said, then he whispered in Karen’s ear, “and will pay for it too.” She giggled.

After making arrangements with Carol, he hung up the phone and turned to Karen. “Okay, now what?”

“A quick trip to Cross Dress for Less. I mean Ross Dress for Less.” she said laughing.

Heading down the street a few blocks in his car, they went into the strip mall where Karen quickly led him around the store. She pulled out a few inexpensive and conservative Easter style dresses with a high collar that showed no cleavage and went down to his knees. She did a quick measurement of his chest and figured out what his bra size would be. Then, she found some panties and hose. The bill came to $220. “I will keep the receipt. We can submit it as part of your expense report."

Leaving the store, they went next door to a shoe store where she bought him some basic flats and loafers. “You don’t need anything fancy yet.”

“Gee, thanks. Well, there goes my dream of having glass slippers and being the belle of the ball.” She gave him a semi-hard nudge with her elbow.

“Stop your clowning around.” She then gave him a stern look that told him that she meant business.

After that, they went across the street to the drugstore and she bought some makeup and hair extensions. She also bough hair dye. Dropping her off at her car, she arranged to meet at his place a half hour later.

Doug heard a knock on his door about forty-five minutes later. He wondered what took her so long. He would later find out. He opened his door and let her in. Karen she winced at seeing his bachelor pad. It really wasn’t well kept. Still, it was much cleaner than most of her boyfriends places. And the few dishes in the sink were recent instead of months or years old. The furnishings were nice and at least he had something up on the wall that was art worthy rather than a bunch of car posters with semi-clad women draped over the hoods.

It looked as though he had done some quick tidying up since there was a nice work area around a coffee table cluttered with magazines and newspapers. She noticed that he was well read when she caught a glance of his bookcase library. The books weren’t dusty like his lamp table. As she sized up the kind of books on the shelves, she found most of them were second hand bookstore paperbacks. She chuckled that she even noticed a few regency novels in among the haphazard way they were arranged.

Next to the coffee table were the bags of clothes, makeup, and shoes that were bought by them a little earlier. “Let’s get started.” She stated as she pulled out of the drugstore bag a couple of items. First was hair remover and shaving cream. “Okay, you need to go in and take a shower. Remove all the hair from below your neck following the instructions. I mean every where you can. Including between your butt cheeks.”

Doug grimaced and blushed at the same time He reluctantly responded, “Yes, Ma’am.”

He started to sulk off to the bathroom. “No, wait” she said. “Do you have a kitchen timer?” He nodded yes. “Grab it. You will need it. Plus, take a couple of extra towels and a bathrobe. And here is a bag of stuff to put on after you dry off.”

Karen sat down and began to go over emails and other business on her phone. She texted her boss saying that she was helping Doug get ready to do an undercover story. About thirty minutes later, she got a text from her boss saying he understood.

Meanwhile, in the shower, Doug washed the wretched smelling foam off of his body after hearing the kitchen timer go off. The seven minutes it was on his body seemed like forever. Getting the foam up his butt crack was his first challenge. He found sitting on the edge of the tub made that easy to do. The rest of his body he did quickly. He had a thin frame and fine hair. He mused that his look was more of a starving artist than a cub reporter only two years out of college. Working with Karen was great. She had ten years of experience behind her and he was learning a lot from her. Even this stupid story was a great example of how she could ferret a news story out of nothing.

He watched his hair slide down of his body into the tub and down the drain. He rinsed thoroughly and then soaped up with a gentle body wash to make sure as much of his hair was gone as possible. The biggest surprise wasn’t his bald crotch. Once, a few years back, he had shaved it off to see what he looked like without hair. It was weird.

No, his big surprise was feeling no hair in his armpits. He stepped out of the shower, raised his arm and bent it over his head, and admired himself in the mirror after he wiped away the steam. He went over to the wall and opened the tiny window so he could vent the bathroom. It took a few minutes while he dried off, but the room was clear now. Standing up and looking into the bag Karen had given him, his body tried to give him goose bumps as a breeze whipped fresh air into the bathroom. It cascaded over his body and sent chills up his spine. But, there was no hair to bump except for his head of hair. It was a strange feeling.

In a weird sort of way, it was sexy and thrilling too. Thankfully, the little stirring he felt in his manhood subsided as he focused on the task at hand. He would ponder later how incredible sexy this whole thing felt. He knew he wasn’t a cross dresser per se, but his college roommate was. Well, Albert did it for Halloween and other stuff. It was more as a means of being goofy at the frat house.

Doug pulled out a strange looking assemblage of an elastic waistband cut out from a pair of stockings and a tube sock that had been cut off. It was pinned to an instruction sheet that Karen had printed off about how to use it. Following the instructions on how to get his testes into their channels and how to pull himself back, he put the homemade gaff on. Then, he put on the pair of padded panties she had there for him. He could tell they weren’t from the drugstore. He figured she stopped and picked them up.

Next, he followed the instructions on how to put on the bra by hooking it up front and twisting it around. In the bag were some breast forms she picked up at the drugstore too. He inserted them into the bra as indicated and found it did give him somewhat of a shape.

Checking himself in the mirror, he combed out his hair. It wasn’t really long, like a woman’s hair, but it was well past his ears. Being a reporter, he didn’t earn a ton of money. Haircuts were once every six months and he was over due, thankfully.

Putting on the bathrobe, he took a deep breath and went out into his living room. Karen looked up at him and smiled. She could see the anxiety and questioning of what he was doing in her face. He had been a good sport and needed a little of the right encouragement, she thought.

“Good job. You look great. But we can do better. I think you will get a much better story if you work hard to pass this evening. If they see your commitment to do this right, they will open up to you. Don’t you think?”

“So, that is why all the extra effort and help?” he inquired.

“Yes. Years ago, I had the chance to interview a man transitioning to a woman. I blew it. I guess I came off as being a little too arrogant and condescending. Looking back on it, I probably was more than I care to admit. Tonight, you are going into foreign territory. So, what kind of impression do you want to make?”

He looked at the picture of Big Sur he had hanging on his wall and gave it careful thought. Responding to her interrogative at last, he admitted, “I guess I want to make the best impression possible.”

“I agree. So, I am going to stay with you after I fix you up and teach you as much as I can over the next four or five hours before the class.”

He smiled at her with a big grin. “Thanks. I have really appreciated you taking me in and teaching me how to be a better reporter.”

“You’re welcome. But, being the vicious task master … or is it mistress … that I am, let’s work on your walk. We will let Carol do the talk.” she giggled.

“Let’s work on that hair first. She pulled out a hair dye and proceeded to give him a nice chestnut hair. Then she pulled out hair extensions to give him a below the shoulder hair. While his hair was being colored, she then turned to his face.

“What is this?” He asked as he saw her rubbing something in her hands.

“This is facial waxing. It will allow your beard, such as it is, to be less noticeable.”

“Not to worry, I can shave.”

“Nope, this is better. It will slow your beard growth and keep you looking more feminine longer.” She began to apply the waxing strips to his face, letting them set, and then pulling them. He reacted in pain but stuck it out.

“Is it permanent?” he asked as she applied another strip to his face.

“No, not this time. If you kept doing it frequently, it could become so. But, for a couple of weeks, this won’t hurt you too much.” she said reassuringly. She went on to say. “I am doing it this time because I know what I am doing. But, next time, you take care of it yourself sport.” she said with a wink.

She rinsed out his hair next and then dried it with a hair drier. Her final step with his hair was to add extensions. By the time she finished, he had nice long hair.

After seeing himself in the mirror, he remarked, “Oh my, how am I going to go back into the office now?”

“C’mon. That is easy. Everyone knows as reporters we will do whatever we need to do in order to get the story. Just tell them you are working on a story and leave it at that. They will understand.”

Finally, she worked on his makeup. “I will help you now and a few more times, but you are going to have to do this yourself at some point, so time to go to girl school my friend.”

Finishing up, she picked up a mirror and asked him what he thought. “I-I look pretty!” he exclaimed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome Doug … oh my … I guess we can’t call you that. Doug is hardly a girl’s name.”

“That’s true. But, I don’t want some dorky name.”

“Elaine, Diana, Sally, Carol, Samantha, Stacy ...” she said. But he kept just shaking his head.

“Well, it isn’t going to be on the front page like Caitlyn, my friend.”

“Front page.” he said dreamily thinking of having a story on it one day.

“Page, I mean Paige is a name. What do you think of Paige?”

“Paige … Paige … yes, Paige … I like that. Very appropriate. My name is Paige.”

The hours flew by. He learned how to sit and stand. Mannerisms and posture. By the time he had to leave for the class, she commented, “Well, I think you will do great. I am going to walk with you to your car, Paige.” And, like she would with any girlfriend, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. Catching herself, she added, “That was a friendship kiss, by the way.”

He winked and said, “Another girl lesson.” Karen took him by the arm and walked out to his car. Carefully, she taught him how to get in and smooth his dress at the same time.

“Thanks for everything, Karen. I know this is going to be a great human interest story.”

She waved as he drove off to his class.

By arrangement, Doug, as Paige, arrived early to the class. He drove up to the outside of a senior center which had outlying buildings that could be used as classrooms for ESL ( English as a Second Language ), or any other sort of community outreach. He sat there for a few minutes wondering if she was in. He wasn’t comfortable with just standing around or using the bench in front of the room. He really didn’t want to be seen. The whole thing was catching up to him. In the matter of eight hours, he had gone from being mr. macho to a dressed up sissy boy. That wasn’t exactly something he could share with Karen. She could slap him. Maybe, he thought he should just back out. But, then again, he had going through all of the hair removal, hair dye, and getting fixed up.

He grabbed the purse next to him and went through it for no reason. He had his notepad. Check. He had his tablet. Check. He had his wallet. Check. While he was doing this, a car pulled in a few spaces away. He saw a woman get out and walk towards the door. She glanced at him briefly. Could this be Carol?

Closing the purse, he swung his legs out and stood up as Karen had taught him. “Carol?” he called out. Surprised, the woman turned and looked at him. She looked him over and nodded.

“Are you Doug, the reporter.” the woman responded.

“Yes. But, my fellow reporter suggested I go by Paige. She thought it would be appropriate.”

Carol was impressed. She hadn’t expected him to show up. The en femme requirement was a litmus test. She didn’t want her clients exploited. And if the reporter was serious about reporting the story correctly, then he would do the right thing by her clients to put them at ease. She walked over and shook his hand.

“I must say, you do make a pretty woman.” she cooed.

Her complement caught him off guard. He stammered, “W-well, I-i wouldn’t know about that. I have a hard enough time figuring out how to look decent as a man, let alone as a woman. But, anything to get the story right, I suppose.” Carol noticed he was blushing and took that as a good sign. But, in his tone and deportment, she caught a demure and pleasant attitude whose gentleness was, well, nicely feminine. “Anyway, I gather from your kind comment that I pass your first test?” he added.

“Oh my yes. Far better than I had hoped. If you work this hard to meet my requirements, I am sure you will do a fine report on what I do. Class starts in about forty-five minutes and we have some time to go over what I do.” Carol guided him into the classroom.

The classroom was a simple series of tables and chairs. A wipe board. And a television on a cart with with a DVD player. The television was ancient too. It was a tube type making it not a very good television to run a classroom with. The overall appearance was that of what a community classroom should look like by the overall greasy feel of the room with the ceiling tiles having yellowed as well as the plastic screens covering fluorescent fixtures. Doug made a mental note that next time he comes, he should dress down.

“Please, sit down Paige.” Carol noted how well he did smoothing his skirt as he sat down. She wondered for a moment if he was a cross dresser or even transgender, but his next statement burst that bubble.

“I will have you know that my fellow reporter, Karen, drilled me all afternoon. She would be proud that I just did that without thinking. Smoothing my skirt. Do you mind if I take notes, Carol?” he said as he put his purse on the table and pulled out his notepad. “I am old fashioned. I like paper. I also have a tablet my work gives me for transcribing notes. But, it is not the same as a pen and paper in your hand.”

“No, not at all. As long as you put it away during class. We are in agreement that none of the students that attend my class will be interviewed or written up in your article.” Carol said sternly.

Paige nodded and said, “Of course. Karen told me about a report she did that was ruined because she stepped too far with a transgender in getting to know her. It was her suggestion that I take the class instead of just interviewing someone so I could talk from experience instead of exploiting your students.”

After a sigh of relief, she stated, “Wise woman.” Now feeling at ease, Carol sat down across from Doug and looked far more relaxed.

“My first question is obvious. How did you start doing this?”

“I am a speech therapist. I went to see this marvelous movie a few years back called The King’s Speech.”

“Oh, I remember that film. I loved it. I had to sneak in though. I was underage at the time and it was filled with loads of profanity. A lot of F bombs. I never knew a king, let alone a king of England, could ever utter such horribly coarse words.” Paige giggled. Again, Carol looked at him and wondered if he understood how he was sounding.

Carol continued. “Anyway, sitting behind me in the theater was a transwoman who was crying at the end. When I got up and saw her still crying, I went to ask her if she was alright since the movie ends on somewhat of a positive note. Out of this gorgeous and elegantly dressed woman came this unexpected male voice that totally shocked me. In talking to her, I realized that after all her transition, her surgeries, even an attempt to alter her vocal cords, she still had a male voice. She was crying and sobbing. All she could say was, ‘How do I learn the Queen’s speech.’ At that moment, because of my training and having worked with actors during my college days teaching them dialects and how to sound like someone else, I offered her my services for free.”

“That was very kind of you. What a sweet thing to to do. Tell me more.” Paige dropped her pen on her pad and placed her hands in her lap. Her body turned to give Carol her full attention. Again, Carol processed what Doug just did and noted it how unexpected it was.

“I felt I couldn’t charge her for something I had never done before. And, by the way, the fees for this class just cover my expenses. Most insurance and many doctors who do transitions don’t understand what someone like me can do for their patients. Most of my real paying clientele, for lack of a better word, are people who stutter or have had strokes or an accident or a condition where they lose the ability to speak properly. Their insurance covers my services. So, I found myself talking to this delightful and beautiful woman with a man’s voice seeking to help her. And, in short order, she became my first ‘pro bono’ job. We worked for three months and at the end of those three months, you could not tell her from any cisgendered woman you might chance to talk to walking down the street.”

“Wow!” Paige said. “How is that even possible?” Her natural reporters curiosity was in full bloom.

Carol had an inspiration. “I am going to issue you a challenge. I bet you that at the end of four weeks, after our last session together, I can have you call your best friend and he or she will not even recognize your voice. More than that, they will be convinced you are a woman too.”

Paige giggled. “Oh, that would be funny, wouldn’t it. It would be a delicious trick too.” Carol smiled, but she began to sense something taking over Doug that he himself … no … herself didn’t see. Maybe, she thought, this was a serendipity for her, her students, and for Paige.

“Well, do you accept the challenge? There will be one other condition though.”

“Yes, provided the condition isn’t onerous or humiliating.”

“Just that you have to practice en femme ever day for at least three hours.”

Paige looked dumbfounded. “Really. Can’t I do it just as I would normally dress.”

“No. And, in part, it is to help protect you too. Associating the voice with the clothes will help you not fall into the voice when you are dressed, how should I say in your case, normally.”

Paige nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” With that, there was a knock on the door and the first student entered.

In total, there were five students that evening including Paige. Everyone was delighted to have her there and were all informed that she was doing an article for the Franklin State Gazette. They were all assured that none of them, not even the amount of students taking the class would be in the news.

Paige learned normally that the course takes three months to complete. Inside the first month, a reasonable female voice is established and that the final two months are helping to get the voice set and strengthened. Each of the students was at different points in their training. And many of them continued their training well after the three months. Paige also learned that by six or seven months, most came in for the occasional refresher and tuning.

Paige patiently listened as each student was worked with during the the first half hour. Once she was done with them, she gave each one an exercise to work on and they went off to a part of the room and began working on it. Then came Paige’s turn, “Okay, Paige. First we are going to find your break points. Those are the points where your voice breaks. This will define the range we have to work with what your vocal chords can handle. Next, we are going to do exercises that will train and strength your vocal muscles until they can handle the higher pitch that will be asked of them.”

Paige saw Carol pull out a little tiny electronic keyboard. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.” For each ha, Paige raised a note from her lowest register to her highest register as Carol guided her. Most of the time, Carol kept having Paige adjust up and down as she made notes on a notepad. When her voice would break, she saw Carol play a note on the keyboard again and check her notes. Paige was asked to do it again a few more times.

Finally, Carol had finished with Paige. Carol volunteered, “My, you are lucky! Your break points are an A3 through a B4. Your voice is a little higher than the average male, but not by much.”

“Yeah, I used to get teased about it in high school. I learned to deepen my voice with my drama teacher’s help because she saw me getting picked on. She had me feel my chest and build the resonance around the breast bone.”

“Well, we are going to have to teach you how to undo that somewhat. Now, don’t get any ideas, but I am going to let you touch me around the neck. I want you to hear me speak and feel where the sounds come from. Placing Paige’s hand on her throat just below her voice box, She started to say a sentence. Doug listened intently to what she was saying as she felt the vibrations of her speech. The idea that he was being allowed to touch a woman didn’t give him any thrill. She watched him to see how he would react to touching her. She was pleased with what she saw. “Feel the vibrations of where I am speaking. This is where you want to be feeling them when you practice alone. Notice my voice doesn’t come solely from my chest. It comes from above my chest too. You will learn to increase the resonance above your chest and lower in your chest as you progress. Okay, you can let go now.” Paige let go.

“So, the idea is that my voice is going to come from a different part of the body than it is now?”

“Yes, to a certain extent. We are going to train your muscles to give you access to different parts of your body’s sound making capability. In the process, we are going to change your pitch, tone, and introduce melody to your speech pattern.”

She handed him a piece of paper. “These are links to online files that have male and female speakers saying the same phrases. The files are used to test voice over IP, commonly called VOIP. What they do is to give you a comparison of your voice to a standard female voice. Download the same female voice you like and put them on your tablet. Use the voice recording app on your tablet and you say the same phrase. You can play the standard woman and then yourself. Little by little, adjust your tone and pitch to match hers.”

“And this is what I will be doing for the next month?”

“Pretty much. You will come in three times a week and I will work with you one on one. I will adjust your resonance, test your muscle strength, give you exercises to work on and add to your daily routine. But, this is the most important thing, you will work three hours a day beginning with warm up exercises.”

“Okay. Now, let me show you what will happen. Sylvia, could you come over here please.” One of the students, a nice tallish woman who was about five foot ten in her stocking feet, came over to sit down with them. “Sylvia, do your before and after, if you would, please.” Carol asked her proudly.

Out of her mouth came a very feminine and a distinctly lovely woman’s voice saying, “Oh yes Carol.”

Sylvia turned to Paige and in her voice said twice in a beautiful womanly voice, “The birch canoe slid on the smooth planks.”

To Paige’s astonishment, Sylvia then said it again in a deeper male voice that sounded nothing like her.

Raising her both hands to her face, Paige reacted and said, “Oh my word. I cannot believe what I just heard. It is like you suddenly became possessed by a man.” Sylvia giggled at Paige’s observation and her very feminine way of responding. It wasn’t observed by Paige, but both Sylvia and Carol looked at each other as if to say there is more to Paige than meets the eye.

When class came to an end, Sylvia approached Paige. “Would you like a training partner?”

“I couldn’t impose on you like that. I am only doing this for a month. And I am a reporter.” Sylvia was about to apologize and bow out when Paige added with a chuckle, “But, the prospect of calling a friend with a whole new voice is too irresistible a prank and would make a terrific ending to my story. So, yes, if you don’t mind. And I promise not to mention you in the story if that is your wish. So, yes, I would love to work with you.”

Paige stood up to shake her hand. She immediately noticed their size difference. She was looking up into her eyes. Being five foot six was one of the main reasons Doug joined the school newspaper both in high school and college. Sylvia took her hand and they, instead of a firm handshake, softly shook hands.

Paige leaned over her table taking a piece of paper and writing on it, “Here is my contact information. I have a pretty wild schedule. Most of my reporting is done in the morning because we are an evening newspaper. That allows me to go out at night sometimes. Like tonight. But, I have to be up by four in the morning and to work by five in order to do my job.”

“I understand. Here is my business card. I am an assistant manager at a Piggly Wiggly. The evenings would work fine with me. My boyfriend and I do go out during the weekend and party.”

On the drive home, Paige looked at herself in the rear view mirror at a stop light. She didn’t look half bad. For the first time in years, reporting was turning out to be just fun. Someone laid down on their car horn. Paige was shocked back into reality when she realized that the light had turned green. Pulling into her spot, she looked around to see if anyone would notice her. Confident the coast was clear, she got out and headed to her apartment. After getting in, instead of kicking off her clothes, Paige sat on the couch and texted Karen telling her that the class was great.

Thinking for a moment about what she had been taught that night, she looked at one of the bar stools in front of her kitchen counter. She got up, went over and grabbed one, and took it into her second bathroom. Sitting on the chair, she practiced her scales. Going from her lowest break point to her highest. Looking at her watch, she noted the time. About half an hour later, she quit and went in to get ready for bed.

She stopped. No, she thought. The Wal-Mart is open twenty-four hours. And, if she was going to dress en femme to practice, she thought this was the time to go shopping. And if she was going to go shopping, it would be best to do it now because there was no way she would look like a lady after she cleaned up and went to bed.

Running out to her car, she passed a few of her fellow apartment dwellers coming in from an evening out on the town. She was stared at by a few of the men whose wives elbowed them. She chuckled at that scene and that she could cause it to happen.

Walking through the dress section at Wal-Mart, she found a few dresses. She went in to try them on and liked them. She bought more panties and even a few bras. It was interesting to walk through the ladies section of the store. As a man, she could only glance at the unmentionables as she walked by. But, now, she could look through them unperturbed by their intimate and sexy use. As she turned one corner, she came to a rack of sleepwear. There was a long satin nightie that called to her. She fingered it. It felt so nice. Thinking she might never have this chance again, she put it in her shopping cart.

Then, without even thinking about it, on the way to the checkout, she stopped and got a few accessories. A couple of necklaces as well as a watch and bracelet. By the time she was done, she had spent about $200 herself. As she checked out, she counted on the anonymity of her debit card. When the check out lady said thank you Ms. Doug, she chuckled. Thinking quickly, she said, “Oh, he is my boyfriend. I am visiting him from out of town. My luggage got lost and he let me get some clothes. You know. Basics.” The lady nodded and said that was very nice of him.

Getting home, Paige was getting ready to transform back into Doug when she said no once more. She slipped out of her A line dress and put on the nightie. She even left on her bra and falsies. Getting into bed, she felt she was missing something. She looked over to see the old tiger she grew up with and had as a kid. She had kept it just as a reminder of growing up. One of those mementos one has to remind themselves they were a kid once and it wasn’t that long ago.

She got out of bed and went over to grab it. She snuggled. It was late at night. Almost one o’clock and she would only get four hours of sleep. But, it was four hours of sleep that she needed more than anything. With the feel of the satin nightie and the excitement of the day, she floated into blissful sleep.

Doug woke up to his alarm. Exhausted, he flung off his nightie and raced into the shower. Damn, he realized, he had to do something about the hair extensions. For the next ten minutes, he carefully removed them and laid them out on the bathroom counter. He would have to do something about them later.

After his morning ablutions, he raced to his car and headed off to work. He arrived late to find Karen explaining to his boss why he was running late and the story he was working on.

“It must be true. You clearly dyed your hair. So, you went out as a woman last night to the class?”

“Yes sir. I made terrific progress. I have gained the confidence of the teacher and I am learning how she helps transgenders transition and get a female voice.” His boss nodded and smiled.

“Well, you have show a lot of gumption kid. You may just be able to take over for Karen soon.” Doug shot Karen a worried glance. She just smirked.

Walking back to their desks, Doug inquired, “What did he mean by that, ‘soon’?”

“Come on Doug. You know that reporters always want to move on to a bigger and better paper. I have been checking out Charlotte and Atlanta for positions. I just asked James to give me a good recommendation.”

Doug started to tear up and his voice got shaky. “But, I thought you liked it here.”

“I do. But, I also want to grow as a reporter. And moving to a bigger market means I can do stories I have only dreamed of doing.” She put her arm around me. “Now, tell me about how it went last night.”

After bringing her up to date, she quipped, “You really have to study en femme. Like she will notice.”

“I am going to have to do it. One of the students, Sylvia, has asked to be my study partner. And ...”

“You are attracted to her!” Doug didn’t know why, but he was insulted by the suggestion. Not because she was transgender, but, as he thought about it, she was a possible friend. And he didn’t have many of those.

“No, not really. It is just, that the story will make more sense if I embrace Carol’s program. If I decide that I will do it my way, then how will I know what to report on. And, in her program, the students are encouraged to work with each other both for emotional support as well as it being motivational.” The words surprised him since they never talked about it last night. It was, as he was discovering, his reporter’s insight being developed. He looked back to Karen who nodded approvingly.

“So, you will need my help again?” she teased.

“Oh yes. Please. I do so want to make a good impression on her when I see her again.” He surprised himself with how he pleaded instead of just saying yes or sure as he would have normally. Was that him or Paige who responded he wondered. She nodded yes.

Before he could carry the thought forward, his cell phone chirped. It was a text from Sylvia …

‘Would you like to get together tonight and work on your voice exercises? I can can help guide you. – Sylvia’

He felt almost giddy when he responded, ‘What time and where?’

‘My place. 312 Estancia Spring Drive. Say, around 6:00?’

‘Perfect. Should I bring something for dinner?’

‘You cook?’

‘I am a starving reporter. Of course, I cook. Beef stroganoff? For how many?’

‘Sounds delicious! For 3 if that is okay. My boyfriend is named Bill.’

‘Okay. I bring the dinner. You pay the Bill – wink’

‘Giggles. :-*> See you @ 6’

Looking up from his phone, he found Karen smirking at him. “What’s up?”

“Oh, just arranged to meet her at her place at 6.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I am making dinner for us too.” He watched as Karen’s face broke into a grin. “Hey, her boyfriend Bill is going to be there.”

After the days work, around four, Karen showed up to help Doug turn into Paige. The first thing she noted was that the apartment was picked up and clean. The dishes in the sink were gone. And, everything had been dusted. Not bad, she thought. There is hope for this man … er … lady.

“Okay, first things first. Your outfit. Where are those clothes we got yesterday?” A beep went off in the kitchen as soon as she had said it.

“Go into my bedroom. The clothes are laid out on the bed. I have an apple tart to take out of the oven.” Doug ran off to the kitchen while she went through the open door into his bedroom. Again, she was impressed. His bed was made and the room was clean. On the bed was laid out two of the outfits she had bought him. But, to her astonishment, three more were next to them laid out nicely too.

“Doug,” she called out, “where did these other outfits come from?”

Doug came in to his room, “Well, last night, I got to thinking, I looked good enough to go to Wal-Mart and find a few more outfits since I would have to do this for at least a month, right?”

“Good thinking.” Karen carefully considered asking him if there was more to it, but the look in his eyes told her what she needed to know already. He was proud of his purchases. The big question was this a passing fascination because he was enjoying the thrill of being a reporter undercover or a real discovery about Doug really being Paige on the inside. Knowing what her research showed her, she decided to play neutral for the time being.

“Apple tart. You cook? I never knew that about you.”

“Yeah, when my dad wa a chef at a restaurant in Williamsburg, Virginia, he taught me how to cook. It was when I was much younger. I loved cooking with him.”

“He sounds like an awesome dad!”

“I miss him so much.” She gave him an inquisitive look. “He passed away after I graduated from college.”

“Heart attack?”

“No, that is what was so stupid. He had the brakes of his car repaired. He was very conscious about doing proper maintenance of his car. The mechanic failed to put the hoses back on properly. His brakes failed on a downhill and a semi hit him. Mom is still suing the brake company that did the repair.”

Turning her attention back to the bed, she spied a lavender dress that he had clearly bought the night before. “You know, I like this one. Too bad you don’t have some nice accessories to go with it.” She noticed the smile on his face as he grabbed a plastic Wal-Mart bag and produced a white necklace and white bracelets.

“I thought these thinking they might go with that dress.” he said sheepishly hoping she would agree. Her nod answered his question and he felt a thrill go through his body. “I also picked up a small bottle of perfume too. I noticed last night that the ladies used perfume. I felt like such a fish out of water.”

“Well, you know what to do. As soon as you are done getting dressed, I will help you with the hair extensions again. Where are they, by the way?”

“In the bathroom, laid out on the counter.”

“I will get them after you get dressed. Remind me to show you how to hang them up. In fact, you could curl them too if you would like.”

After Doug changed into Paige, she came out and sat down at his dining room table. Karen went in and picked up his extensions and noticed even his bathroom had been cleaned up and was looking very nice. Once they were on, they went to his second bathroom’s mirror and checked out what left to be down. Karen gave him a verbal refresher on how to do his make up. Although he made a few mistakes and had to start over again, he soon was able to give himself a decent, not overly made up look.

“Well, now I have to cook some beef and make stroganoff.”

“Mind if I watch.” she asked. “I have never seen it made.”

Going into the kitchen, she was shocked when she pulled out a nice pan. Clearly, her father had given her nice cookware. She watch her pull out a package of stew meat. He floured it and set it aside. Then he cut up an onion, a shallot, and minced garlic. All done with expert skill. Placing it in the pan with olive oil, he sauteed it for a few minutes. Then he added the meat. Once it was done enough, he used tongs to take the meat back out and added cup of beef bouillon. She was amazed that he didn’t measure anything. He just knew what to add. When the broth had reduced down, he reached in and pull out sour cream. Adding it and more seasonings, he soon had a nice sauce going. He poured the beef chunk back in, reduced the heat, and went to work on the noodles.

“Can I use your bathroom?" Karen asked realizing she had to sit for a bit.

“Sure, she said.” She went off to the bathroom while Paige kept working on making dinner.

About twenty minutes later, coming out of the bathroom, Karen saw Paige had all of the dinner in a nice containers in a food basket with a handle. She looked radiant and eager to go to her rendez-vous with Sylvia.

“You realize that I am starved now." she pouted. "Smelling that was torture and now you are going to run off and leave me.” Paige grinned and reached around her to another smaller container. She handed it to a surprised Karen.

With a twinkle in her eye, Paige said, “Here, I made some for you too. Dinner is on me.” Paige gave Karen a girly hug and kiss on the cheek. She remarked. “Karen, I really can’t thank you enough for helping me. It is so kind of you.”

Taken back and looking at her dinner prize, Karen announced, “Well, I am going to have to help you more often. Let me know how it works out. Okay, girl?”

They waved goodbye in the parking lot as Paige drove over to meet up with Sylvia. As Paige approached Sylvia’s small house, she found it to be a pleasant little cottage house nestled in a the side of a hill. She parked and grabbed the food containers and walked up to the front door. She took a deep breath before reaching for the doorbell. Before she could reach it, however, the door swung open and a nicely dressed man, about six-two, towered over her with a big smile on his face. With a pleasant and endearing southern accent, he motioned to her and said, “You must be Paige. Come on in. Let me take those pesky do dads from you. You have worked hard enough to bring us something special.”

Bill was every bit the kind of gentleman that comes out of Asheville. His demeanor was sweet, his face a tapestry of lines that hardly ever frowned. And, if they ever did, would yield such guilt that the poor wretched creature receiving such a sour puss would give up and surrender in an instant. He wasn’t thin. But he wasn’t portly either. His business suit no doubt hid some well toned muscle. His hands were large as Paige supposed his heart to be. A man like this, she mused, would bring out the woman in any man pretending to be one on the outside.

That glancing thought and seeing her reflection in the foyer mirror caused her to see something about herself she had never considered before. Her reaction to a real, kind, gentle man overwhelmed her ability to speak in that moment. Fortuitously, Sylvia rounded the corner and gave her a warm embrace and kiss just as soon as he had gallantly taken charge of the evening supper. “My dear Paige, I am so happy to see you. The smell coming from that food basket is incredible. You must have slaved for hours.”

Taken back by how much she was accepted, she couldn’t help but smile. She softly said without even thinking, “My pleasure. And what a lovely home you have. Thank you for having me come over and helping me too.”

What struck Sylvia was how, even though Paige didn’t have a womanly voice yet, it was apparent that she didn’t have much of a manly voice either. Was it the training? She shook off her pondering and continued her gracious invitation to lead Paige further into her house. They went to the kitchen where Bill placed the food containers on the counter.

Paige began simply to uncover each container showing them what was inside. Bill amazed her by taking over. “You lovely ladies go in and sit down. I will bring the food and wine presently.” As she watched him to work on dishing out the dinner, Sylvia took Paige's attention off of what he was doing and motioned Paige to follow her into the dining room. Smoothing her skirt to sit down, Paige was surprised when she realized that Bill was behind her holding her chair and helping her in. “Forgive me for forgetting my manners.” he lamented. Paige indicated that it was okay and smiled as he went and did the same for Sylvia. “I will be right back ladies with tonight’s wonderful little dinner.”

As they chatted, Bill came in and poured a pinot noir for each of them. Then he came in and presented both with their plates of beef stroganoff. He also gave each a salad with a light vinaigrette dressing. He then returned quickly with his own plates. This wasn’t the last surprise, although, given the part of the country, not a big one. Bill led them in saying grace. Paige was very touched when Bill asked for her to be blessed more than she had blessed them with her wonderful food. “Thank you Bill. That was a very nice prayer.”

For the next fifteen minutes, both Bill and Sylvia complimented Paige on her fine culinary skills. “My dear, this is the best beef stroganoff I have ever had. What is the recipe? I must have it.” he dripped in his southern bass tenor voice that would have melted the hardest female heart.

“Sadly, I don’t know. I make it from scratch and just threw the items together. I adjust the taste and seasoning to my liking and what ever I have in my fridge at the moment.”

Sylvia said, “Well, you are certainly a gifted chef. And we are blessed for it. We will just have to have you come over again.”

After the dessert, with a similar reception, Sylvia and Paige began to work on Paige's exercise. Little by little, Sylvia was able to help Paige find her range and stay within it. By the end of the night, much to her surprise, Paige was able to control her voice well enough to stay within a womanly pitch.

On her way out, Sylvia made a pronouncement that had Paige feeling very happy. “Keep this up and you will be talking like a woman in a couple of weeks. You have a natural talent. Much like your cooking.”

Paige didn’t know why, but she did a curtsy and thanked both of them promising to come over again after the next class, which happened to be the next night. Sylvia mentioned that even though she didn’t need to go anymore, that she would see her during the following night’s class.

During the next two weeks, almost the same scene passed everyday in some fashion. From about two o’clock in the afternoon till bedtime, Paige replaced Doug. However, during the rest of the time, it became more and more evident that Paige was playing Doug.

Two weeks in, during an all hands meeting, Karen nudged Doug who was asking a question about an upcoming visit of the president to Charlotte. She whispered into his ear, “You are using your lady voice. Cut it out.” It was at that moment that Doug realized why all eyes in the room were on him. After the meeting ended, his boss, James, wandered over to talk to him. Karen stuck around.

“Doug, are you okay? That is quite some voice you have developed. I saw a man standing there and heard a woman speaking. We aren’t losing you, are we?”

“No, just getting too good at it I suppose.” Doug blushed a deep red.

“Well, if you are that good at it, you better start writing your story then. Because from what I heard, you have achieved your goal.” As his boss walked away, Doug began to cry. Karen dragged him into a corner where no one could see them.

“Pull yourself together Doug. What’s the matter with you?” she said sternly. He looked at her with almost puppy dog like eyes. She melted.

“I-i c-can’t!” His sobbing continued and was on the verge of becoming uncontrollable. Karen quickly flung open a conference room door and pushed him into it closing the door behind them.

“What is this all about Doug? Talk to me.”

“I’m … I’m not Doug anymore.” she stated in her new voice.

“What?” Karen was startled not only by the remark, but also by the way her voice was now dominate.

“It’s Paige. She has taken over. I have lost me, the Doug me, Karen.” Try as hard as she could, she couldn’t get mad at him. Nor could she ignore Paige. She had seen Paige come out. She loved this new woman she had met. Making quick arrangements to take him home, they left the building avoiding contact with the other employees. “We’ll get your car later.” she said as they drove out of the parking lot.

When he opened his apartment door, she followed him in. He rushed to his bedroom and shut the door. She called after him. He responded asking her to wait. About ten minutes later, Paige emerged from Doug’s room. She looked calm and happy. She was dressed in a nice A line dress that Karen had not seen before. Karen realized that she must have been shopping a lot when she looked at Paige’s feet and saw she was wearing heels. In a calm woman’s voice, Paige said, “Thank you. That is much better. I am sorry I lost it. It is just getting so hard to be Doug anymore.”

Keeping with the theme, Karen asked, “Okay Paige, what is this all about?” Karen also asked with concern evident in her voice.

“It is just that over the last two weeks, I have never been happier in my life than when I am Paige. It all happened to me so fast. Everything I do as a woman feels so right.”

“Have you talked to a doctor about it? I think you need some professional help.”

“I know. Thanks to Sylvia, I have an emergency appointment to see her doctor. Would you come with me, please?” Karen nodded yes. The two hugged. An hour and a half later, they sat in Dr. Rickman’s office. He was a psychiatrist and gender specialist. Karen recounted how it all started. Then Paige laid out what was happening to her and how suddenly it came upon her. “It was as if a light switch turned on. And I don't ever want to turn it off.”

“There will be some therapy needed, but it sounds very much like Paige has been repressed for a long time. Do you mind Karen being here, Paige?”

“No. She is a good friend. And someone who speaks honestly with me. Especially when I need it most. She knows too the value of keeping secrets and ethics too.” Paige squeezed Karen's hand. Karen nodded to the doctor who relaxed in his chair.

“Okay then. It may take some time to get to why you had to repress your feminine nature. But, I don’t think it would hurt you to go full time with Paige. If you are going to burn out and return to Doug, it will happen soon enough anyway. In the mean time, I will put you on hormone blockers. I want you to go light on the female hormones in the beginning. I think in your condition, it makes more sense to build up to a normal female level of hormones over a few months. It will give your brain a chance to adapt. Throwing you into a full blown puberty with your emotional state as it is could be worse than you staying as Doug. Balance in everything. I don’t want you going off half-cocked. And I mean that figuratively as well as literally young lady.”

Paige got the double meaning of what he just said. “Yes sir. I understand. I know you are right. When I am Paige, I feel calm and confident. When I am Doug, I feel insecure and troubled. And I want it to stay that way. Doing something stupid is not on my agenda.”

Dr. Rickman looked over at Karen, “Does your boss support transgenders?”

Karen nodded and ventured, “Yes, I believe he does. James has mentioned that he is very open to having a qualified transgender work for him. Paige is a good reporter with good instincts who has already proven herself.”

“Then, I will give you a letter for your employee telling him that I have a preliminary diagnosis of gender dysphoria. That will answer any legal objections to you working at your newspaper. By the way, your voice is very pretty. Nice job.” Paige blushed.

“Thank you. My instructors have been doing a really good job.”

Afterwards, Karen and Paige went to Starbucks to have a coffee and talk. “This is a serious step. Are you sure you are ready for this? You could always get a job as a cook somewhere.”

“I know. But I think I knew the moment you handed me the information on the class, I wanted to report on this topic. I had been thinking about it before you brought it up. I think maybe that is why I was fixated on the article about Caitlyn. Even before that, I had found a few sites on the Internet that had transgender fiction. Oddly enough, every time I read a story, I wanted to be the girl in the story. I guess now I am the girl in the story. And ...” she said taking a deep breath, "... I am ready for whatever comes my way."

“Well, that explains why you were so open to my suggestion.”

They laughed about all the changes and then Karen went shopping with Paige. The next day Paige, en femme, handed her boss the letter she got from her doctor. He patted her on the back and asked if she was ready to write her article.

“More than every, sir!” she said confidently.

“Well, just don’t stand there. Get to work. Dammit kid, do I have to do everything around here.” he chided as he grinned.

After her boss said that, he went of to say that she was going to be on the front page of the lifestyle section of Saturday’s paper. She jumped with joy.

Before going to her desk, she texted Sylvia and Carol letting them know her decision. They texted back that they were happy for her.

As she booted up her computer, Paige considered what a good headline would be. Typing away, she wrote out ‘her’ headline which read, ‘Turning a New Paige in Life.’ Next, she stopped and thought about what her byline should say. She grinned as she wrote, ‘How I found my voice and began my transition into womanhood.” And then the coup de grace. She typed, ‘By Paige Davidson.’

As Paige started her new life, she realized ironically that now she would be starting it as front Paige news.

– The End –

Copyright © 2018 by AuP reviner



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