A Field trip

Chapter 3 -

By Lynda Shermer

Saturday, we had some shopping to do, but mom was home, so I couldn't change at home. It was getting annoying, but I changed in the laundry room again. I could catch the bus route a block or so away, and with a transfer, get off near Sally's apartment building; She wanted us to go to Andersonville again. She explained to her mother that I'd asked for her help dress shopping.

Saying goodbye, we walked back to the bus stop.

She said we had a stop to make before the dress shop, but stubbornly refused to say more.

The bus wended its way to Andersonville. There, next to the places I'd shopped at before, was a dance shop.

"Perfect," Sally said. This was what she was looking for? It's not even the right kind of dance, I thought. But we went in.

The clerk looked bored when Sally asked after black leotards and white tights, directing us instantly. I couldn't tell if he'd "read" me (a term I'd picked in research on the internet) or not, but it didn't seem to matter one way or the other. We got what Sally was looking for and went next door to the dress shop, where we had considerably more trouble finding a black dress that fit me, with a low enough hem and a high enough neckline. Sally had brought some larger silicone pads for my bra, saying that I was under endowed for a high school student in our class, and if I hoped to get some later use out of the dress, I'd better take that into account. Personally, I was just trying to get through the weekend. But where had she gotten those pads from?

Returning on the bus, we showed the dress to her mother, who declared it nice and properly modest for a teenager.

Then, Sally thrust the tights and leotard into my arms and pushed me into the bathroom. "Change," she said.

"Into this?," I asked.

"Yes; you're holding your pelvis wrong, and we're going to have to do some aerobics practice to get you to change that, I think.’

So I went down the hall to the washroom to change; when I was done, I opened the door, but as I tried to exit, she thrust me back in.

Closing the door, she instructed me to take the leotard off.

I did as instructed. She looked me over, and shook her head. "As I suspected; wearing something that thin, you're indecent.

And with that, she boldly thrust her hand under my waistband, onto the front of my panties and their gusset.

"Oh my, Barb, what have we here? Thank goodness you decided to risk visible panty lines!", she said as my anatomy started to respond to her hand. Feeling the response, she pulled her hand back, but not before squeezing gently.

"Well, it seems you aren't totally oblivious. Let's revisit that in a year or so, shall we? Meanwhile, here, put this Maxi-pad," and with that she dug a couple out from the cabinet under the sink and handed one to me. She held another to her front to demonstrate where it went, "inside the front of your panties to soften your bulge a bit more, and then put your bra and pads back on under your leotard, Barb, as my mom might pop in, and we want you decent and complete." she finished.

She left the bathroom to let me to carry out her instructions in private. I was really dazed, and not a little frustrated, at this point, and it took a minute for things to subside and me to gather my thoughts, after which I did as she'd said, pushing things down between my legs at the same time.

Then, suitably modest, we went back to her room. She changed into her exercise wear (a bit fancier than mine) in the closet, and popped the aerobics disc she had into the laptop.

At first I was no better, although I could see that the women on the disc were holding their lower abdomens differently than I was, somehow. I watched how they moved their pelvis and hips and how they held that area, and I started to see the difference.

Sally tried to tug and position me differently, but it was sometime before I got the idea. It felt very different and strange once I got the hang of it.

We did another half an hour of aerobics as warm up.

Then she had me change into my new dress and the pantyhose we'd gotten, although I had to wear my (well, Barb's) everyday school shoes, as we'd stopped short of getting anything dressier this trip; I might have to correct that oversight, the coming week.

I got used to the air moving under my skirt, the slight constraints on my movements the dress imposed; and the feeling of the hosiery! I just hoped I wasn't developing a fetish, there.

Sally pronounced herself relatively happy for a second lesson, she gave me some pointers on which songs to sit out or stage a trip to the punch bowl during, but pronounced me as "Awkward, but not hopeless."

I was hoping to practice at least twice that week during the evenings, myself.

I let Sally give me a ride home, changing in the back of her parent's van instead of the laundry room. And then I wished her good night.

We actually only managed one more practice session that week, on Wednesday night; Right after school, we met, I'd changed in the field house supply closet again, and we hit the closest shoe store. We limited ourselves to block heels an inch higher than the shoes I'd practiced in, and held another practice session on the regular dances. Finally, Sally sighed and declared she'd done all she could do in the time allotted, and I wouldn't embarrass myself too much more than the younger kids.

The night of the dance, Sally picked me up in the van. Our parents thought we were at a study session at the local library, so we had until that closed for time. I changed in the cramped confines of her family mini-van again. I'd worn my undergarments under my regular clothes.

Thank goodness Sally was doing my makeup and I didn't have to try using one of those little visor mirrors.

There were two differences from my usual makeup routine: I only used colored spots of coverup to simulate acne, which left my face looking much more acceptable, and Sally put used eye makeup and false lashes, a first for me.

When she finished, she backed up as much as she could, looked me over, and went "Huh..."

"What? Is something wrong?" I said.

"No; that wig is really holding you back; some time I want to try an all out makeover on you. You could end up a knock out."

"Not what I've been trying for; unnoticed was the goal, remember?"

"Yeah, it just seems like such a waste."

Arriving at the school, I got out in front of the lunchroom entrance. Sally then drove around to the back parking lot, and parked as near as she could, in case we needed to make a fast getaway.

I'd arranged to met Doug inside the entrance, which had been decorated for the event. He gave me a small corsage, which, with his help, I managed to pin on my dress. The flower smelled divine. He complimented me on my dress, and I said I liked his suit (which I did. Mine was just black, but his was light blue, and his shirt was shiny and had ruffles. He'd shined his shoes, too. I was impressed with his preparations, but I was determined to hold true to the plan, despite all that.)

Going inside, we waited together at the edge of the dance floor, by the folding chairs. The first tune started after the DJ introduced himself; it was one I'd been fairly successful with in practice at Sally's, so I seized my opportunity to "get one on the boards", as it were, and dragged Doug out onto the floor. I felt I danced acceptably to that one. Doug did, as well, as was to be expected. After all, he'd been confident enough to ask me to a dance.

The next song was not one I'd liked, so I sat it out while Doug danced with another partner; he had good moves, viewed from the sidelines.

When he finished that number and returned, I said I was thirsty, and we made our way to the drinks table. Along the way, I thought I recognized Sarah, who I'd met during that football game, hurriedly leaving the area with a paper bag. Seeing this, Doug suggested that possibly the punch would not be the proper drink at the moment, and we went back to our seats, where he pulled a couple of bottles of water out of the book bag he'd left there earlier.

"So thoughtful!," I said and expressed my thanks to him of rescuing me from the perils of teenagers and altered punch.

We danced twice more, although not to any slow numbers, and then made our way back out into the hallway.

True to his reputation, Doug then used his hall monitor keys to pass us through the gate barrier across the hall, allowing access to the deserted part of the school. I quietly checked a door to the outside, and found that it operated normally and wasn't alarmed, which made me feel a little better, but I quickly moved down the side corridor anyway, forcing Doug's towards the theater. Entering it, I hit the switches for all the house lights. Trying to keep some distance between us, I quickly walked to the front and climbed the stairs at the side of the proscenium (there's that word, again!), and stopped by the curtains.

Doug climbed up on stage as well, following me, and moving towards me, said "Ever since I first saw you on the field trip, then again at the football game, last fall, I've grown obsessed with you. You're so different from the other girls; so much an individual. I can't figure you out."

"I wasn't even a student here, back then. I was crashing that field trip, you know, Doug," I said, backing away a little.

He moved closer, "And it was such a bold move! All of us students noticed, but none of the escorts figured it out! But when I found you this year, You mostly only hung out with Sally at lunch, and here in the theater."

"Yes; I'm more comfortable with other girls," I said, turning towards the wings at the side of the stage, and closing my eyes.

"It was awhile before I saw you anywhere besides at lunch; and then you escaped from me in the halls."

By the wings, I moved and turned further, and under cover of that turn, reached for the main lighting panel and managed to pull the lever for the spotlight. Sure enough, a buzzing sound resulted as it came on, and I peeked and saw my shadow in front of me. My eyes were downcast (and closed), my back to the lights. Doug took hold of my shoulders, from right behind me. I knew I'd have to talk fast. I started my speech.

"Doug; did it ever occur to you that you see me in the halls all the time? This is a disguise. I'll leave you with one thought: the interesting thing about uniforms is how seldom people look past them. Thank you for a marvelous evening I'll never forget, and for the dance." Turning, I kissed him on the cheek, keeping my eyes closed.

And with that, I moved backward into the deep shadows by the curtains. Right on cue, the buzz reached a crescendo and there was a pop as all the lights went out. I opened my eyes, wide; I could just barely make out the glow in the dark tape that marked up the stage for the scenery movers. Giving Doug the slip in the dark, I moved along the marked path to the exit.

Hitting the hall door, I yanked off my wig (just as I'd planned), and dropped it to the floor for him to find. This was the end of Barb, it seemed to me. Then I exited into the hall.

Pausing just after the door there, temporarily dazed by all the light, I suddenly heard Mrs. Phelps' voice.

"Barb, you're lost your wig. You look very nice tonight, otherwise. But do you want me to keep an eye out for it, dear? Without it, you are far too recognizable as Dave."

So she had known all along.

"No, Mrs. Phelps, Barb has run her course; Dave may be able to find the time to help with stagecrew from now on, though."

"Well, you know we're always glad of help. But I hope you have considered this carefully. I will miss Barb's assistance."

"But I'll still be available; it's just the same."

"No, it isn't. I'll miss Barb, Dave, and you may come to miss her, too."

That was to take me some time to realize, as it turned out. But I had a ride waiting, so I excused myself, and started running again. I ran to the exit to outside, and hit the crashbar. I emerged into the spring night air in the back parking lot, where Sally was waiting.

As I entered the van, Sally observed, worriedly, "Barb, you've lost your hair."

"I left it for Doug, to make him think and distract him more. It's served it's purpose."

"But it was so much a part of you...", she said, as I wiped down my face with a moist towelette and changed back to Dave from my dance finery in back.

"Barb was designed around the uniform; the wig was just a lucky find."

"There it is again; 'designed'. In this case, I don't think that word applies," she responded.

But just then, the conversation was brought up short by our arrival at my building. I said goodnight, and (grabbing my stuffed backpack) went inside.

And, having sacrificed the wig, I spent the remainder of the semester as Dave. I only occasionally felt the lack of my other life. Or so I thought at first.

Things did start to seem a bit more colorless and dreary without Barb, though...