My ass is nearly hairless, but I carefullyswipe it too, and then my arm pits and the tiny clump that has sproutedon my breast bone. I am surprised at the calm dexterity with which I dothis. I turn off the shower, and realize that I have been so wrapped upin my ritual that I didn't notice that my host had returned with a bundleof clothes and toiletries.I open it and smile. It is not the flannel and denim that I had expected.It is black lace and white chiffon, lipstick and eyeliner, and a blondewig styled after Jean Shrimpton. I wipe the mirror clean blot my face. Ihave practiced many times in the secrecy of my room, and so I know wellthe ritual: powder, blush, eyeliner, eye shadow, lip gloss. Then slip onthe bra, panties, hose, robe, and high heels. Each bit of make up andattire seems to come to life as I put it on. My flesh tingles in a warmawakening as the silk brushes my skin. In this magical place, I feel asthough I have become half man, half woman.I emerge, and walk carefully on. That changed when Jeanne had invited me as her +1 for cousin’s wedding, both of us being 19 at the time. I had already been introduced to her parents, John and Nadine, and they seemed to like me, so it wasn’t awkward or out of the blue. Anyway, during the reception, I found myself dancing with one of the bride’s sisters, who was very…enthusiastic, let’s put it like that. Especially her hands, which were definitely rubbing against things they shouldn’t. Trying to pull away, and ignoring that sly look in her eyes, my eyes caught Jeanne, who was trying hard not to laugh at my discomfort. And yet, she seemed slightly bothered about it as well. Managing to pull away, I sat down next to Jeanne, ignoring her jibes. Throughout the evening, the eager bridesmaid tried to catch my eye several times while I was talking to Jeanne, but I smiled back at her, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Of course, that only encouraged her and so, when I saw her approaching me, I did the only logical thing I.
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