Sapphire's Place - Maria Twelve's " Little Barbara 2"

Little Barbara Part 2

by Maria Twelve

As I stood there that Thursday morning in the summer of 1962, it was all I could do to stare in both awe and astonishment at the attractive, young woman in the mirror. Just yesterday I had been 13 year old Marty Wright, but now I was, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, nineteen year old "Barbara Ainsworth". Sure, I "volunteered" for this, after a bit of "sweet talk" and "arm twisting" on behalf of the "Real", or at least Original Barbara Ainsworth, after all, she was the daughter of my mother’s best friend and made me feel somewhat "obligated" to help her out. An inducement of Twenty Dollars, which was a lot of money to a kid back then, served as the inducement that finalized the deal.

Barbara had a problem. She had a "big date" planed for Sunday night with her boyfriend. She had gotten word from his sister that he was, perhaps going to propose to her. Unfortunately, Miss Hanson, Barbara’s boss, the head Librarian at the Mobile municipal Library, where Barbara worked as an assistant, had insisted that Barbara attend a lecture at the Librarian’s conference on that same night. Yes, Barbara had thought of sending a friend in her place to sign in for her and take a few notes, but Miss Hanson complicated things further. Barbara overheard her telephone conversation with an associate who would be managing the sign in sheets at the conference. Hanson told her to make sure that it was a "Short, attractive brunette", who signed in, and not anyone else.

Unfortunately, NONE of Barbara’s friends, at least the ones who were available, matched that general description—or could be made to match it.

Barbara was desperate! My mother jokingly suggested that she use ME, but failed to realize just how desperate Barbara actually was. Of course I refused, initially, but after a bit of cajoling and an offer of twenty dollars, I agreed to do it, provided that my mother, though knowing of the arrangement, would not be permitted to see me in such a humiliating condition. And my younger sister was not to know at ALL! I would never hear the end of her teasing if this ever got out. To my surprise, my mother agreed to the deal! I had to go through with it!

According to Barbara, all I would have to do was to let her disguise me to fit the general description of herself given by Miss Hanson, Sign in and attend the lecture in her place. I would only have to sit in the hall for a couple of hours and leave.

Of course, in reality, things can not be all that simple. Although the lecture was not until Sunday, Barbara insisted that I report to her house the Wednesday afternoon before. That would giver her time to do a complete "make over" on me, just to see if I could look the part well enough to pull it off. There would be no sense in even trying if I couldn’t pass for a nineteen-year-old woman.

If the first part was successful, the remaining days would be devoted to what she called " total immersion training", where I would be taught how to walk, talk, sit and otherwise move and act like a woman. Looking like a woman was not enough! I had to also be able to play the part. If I couldn’t do this both Barbara AND myself would be in big trouble.

It took her all afternoon Wednesday to shave, pluck manicure and pedicure my body, just to get it ready for the first test. Before I went to bed that night, I was dressed in a long satin nightgown and lipstick, so that I would wake up in my new persona, "Barbara" which I would be called during my training. Barbara’s mother could also call me "Little Barbara" if she had to distinguish between us in conversation—Those would be the only names that I would answer to, besides, of course, "Miss Ainsworth".

Well, I awoke as "Barbara" the next day, and after breakfast, my namesake took me to her room and proceeded to dress me in the outfit I would be wearing to the lecture. Over the padding and corsettry, I was dressed in a frilly white blouse, a straight red skirt and vest, red, pointy toe high heels, a brunette wig and the full complement of makeup. I didn’t resemble Barbara facially, as we were not related, but I sure DID look like the "short, attractive brunette" that Miss Hanson’s associate would be watching for. As I was wearing Barbara’s clothes and makeup too, any verbal description of me that might be transmitted back to Miss Hanson, would only serve to reinforce the implication that Barbara did indeed attend the lecture.

*******************

So we decided that I at least, looked the part. Now the really hard stuff would begin. I hadn’t anticipated having to live like this for almost four days. That twenty dollars was not looking like nearly enough compensation for my trouble, but a deal was a deal.

I stood there looking in the mirror, desperately trying to make myself believe that "THAT is what I actually looked like now." It was difficult to make my mind believe what my eyes were seeing. "Ok!, lets get this stuff off of you now", said Barbara as she broke the spell. She began to unbutton my blouse.

"What?" I replied in surprise. "I’ve only been dressed for a few minutes".

"That was just to see what you will look like in this outfit Sunday night." Said Barbara, as she continued to remove my outer garments and put them back up on hangers. "We don’t want it to get dirty before then, now do we?" "Besides", she continued, "it’s a bit too dressy for going to the grocery store."

"Grocery store?"

"Yes, we need to get a few things, bread, milk. . . You are going to come along."

"You’re kidding right?" I said, knowing full well that she wasn’t. "I can’t go out looking like this!"

"I know that!" replied Barbara —--I felt better for a second. "Not in my. . . your underwear anyway. You need to put on a dress!" ---I stopped feeling better.

"You knew that you would have to go outside eventually. How could you attend the lecture otherwise?", Barbara continued. "You have to get used to being outside in public, and now is just as good as any time to start."

She WAS right. I knew that I would have to go out eventually, I had resolved to deal with it when the time came, but I didn’t think it would be THIS soon. "Hey," I protested, " You haven’t taught me how to walk, talk, sit or any of those other things you told me I have to know how to do."

"The store is five blocks away." She responded, " By the time we get there you will have already learned how to walk. You don’t have to worry about sitting down because you will be pushing the grocery cart, and as far as speaking goes, just keep your mouth shut."

I could tell that I wouldn’t be able to weasel my out of this one.

Barbara exchanged my red high heels for a pair of ‘less flashy’ tan ones. As they had the same high, pencil-thin heels, learning to walk in them would be no less of a challenge.

Next, she pulled a beige, sleeveless, wide necked dress over my slip. The skirt, a bit looser than what I had on previously, fell to my knees. When she zipped it up, the garment, fit tightly along the upper curves of my hips and empathized my narrow corseted waist. Barbara was right, I didn’t look as "dressy" now, but I didn’t look any LESS like a girl either. I would fit right in with most of the other ladies shopping for groceries.

"Shall we go?" Said Barbara as she thrust a purse in my hand, grasped my wrist and practically dragged me to the front door. I was terrified!. My legs felt like jelly. I stopped for a second to catch my breath, and take a quick re-assuring glance at my self in the hall mirror. Then, mustering up all of my courage, I took my first step out of the door.

"Now that wasn’t so bad now, was it?" said Barbara as we stood on the stoop.

I saw several people on the sidewalk, here and there, as we proceeded down the front yard path. But to my surprise, they seemed to take little or no notice of us. Sure, a man, and even a woman or two, might have glanced at us for a second or so, but that’s all it was. They just continued on their way. I received none of the open-mouthed gawking and stares that I had expected. Indeed, I got a lot fewer looks than I expected to get if I actually had been a real woman.

There was nothing like the pressure of being seen in public to force me to remember every detail of what I had learned from Barbara, so far, in walking in heels. Occasionally she would whisper a tip or two to me, such as "take smaller steps", "pull your shoulders back" and the like. I followed to the letter her every word.

By the time we were half way there, I started to feel a little more confident. I had gotten into the rhythm of things. I also didn’t feel quite as afraid of the people any more. For all practical purposes, I felt almost invisible. Indeed, I found that I could look passersby in the face, and they would either avert their eyes or actually turn away. I now began to feel some confidence in the disguise. I didn’t feel like I looked like some kind of "half boy, half girl, freak" anymore. So long as I was careful and behaved as I was told, my secret could be safe.

At the grocery store, I followed Barbara around as she filled her shopping basket with the few items we came for. The store owner, Mr. Beasley, checked the items at the counter.

"Hello Miss Ainsworth" he said. "Did you find everything you needed?"

"Yes, thanks Mr. Beasley" Barbara replied. "And this is my cousin . . . Mary visiting me and Mother from Tennessee."

"Pleased to meet you Miss Mary" Mr. Beasley replied.

My hair stood on the back of my neck. I was frightened. What was I going to do?

Barbara had told me to keep my mouth shut.---So that’s what I did. I managed a closed mouth smile and nodded my head in greeting and quickly made tracks out of there with Barbara.

"Now that wasn’t too bad was it?" said Barbara as we were out of earshot of the store and back on the sidewalk.

"Why did you do that?" I angrily asked her. ‘I almost had to talk."

"I knew Mr. Beasley would ask you who you were so I introduced you first." Barbara replied. "That way I got to say your name and you didn’t have to say anything. You handled that real well."

My feet and the backs of my legs really hurt by the time we got home. I flopped into a big chair, slipped the heels off and massaged my toes through my stockings as I waited for Mrs. Ainsworth to finish preparing lunch.

Barbara brought me a set of tan "flats" to wear for a while, "to rest my feet" and "give me a little traction" so I would not slip on the floor with my nylon clad feet.

At lunch I noticed something ‘odd’. My lips did not leave the red marks on the glass as they did at supper and Breakfast. My reflection in the spoon, however told me that my mouth was as red as it had ever been. My lipstick had not wore off by any means. I asked Barbara why I had not left any marks on the glass.

"When we dressed you up this morning, I used some ‘kissproof’ lipstick on you. That way we wont have to be fixing up your lips every ten minutes."

Yes, that explained the different "taste" I noticed when she applied it. I also noticed that it felt somewhat ‘Dryer’ and not as ‘greasy’ as what she had applied to me last night.---But then I thought about it. Kissproof?

"How do I get it off?" I asked nervously.

"Don’t worry about it," Barbara replied. "You don’t need to get it off. You can’t TAKE it off anyway, it has to WEAR off."

"YOU MEAN ITS PERMANENT!?" I shouted, as horrific visions of having to go home and be seen, with bright red lips, flitted through my head.

"By no means. Its only good for just about twenty four hours, then it needs to be touched up again."

"This way, " Barbara continued, "You won’t have to learn to apply lipstick to yourself, you won’t have to worry about accidentally smearing it on your clothes and you will look pretty all day long and even all night. It’s a lot less trouble, trust me."

I had to agree. But I was still bothered by it. Yes, it might need to be ‘touched up’ after twenty-four hours or so, but how long would it take to completely wear off? Even the slight trace remaining on my mouth, when I got home, would provoke merciless teasing from my sister. I sure hoped that Barbara had allowed for this when she planed this scheme.

I walked up to the mirror and looked the young woman there, in the face once again. As an experiment, I took my finger and rubbed it along my lower lip. My lip looked just as red and nothing at all got on my finger. I rubbed harder.—still nothing! It was as if my mouth was naturally colored that way. It was hard to think that such a thing was possible. But I was stuck like this for the time being, so I had to accept and live with it.

We put the high heels back on me. I needed as much practice as I could get, but now Barbara had ‘training’ of another sort for me. She told me to sit at her desk. I complied, also remembering how to smooth my skirt and keep my knees together. I could see that my actions had pleased her. But that was not the point of THIS exercise.

She showed me a copy of her signature, "Barbara A. Ainsworth" and handed me a pen and several sheets of paper.

"You are going to have to sign in at the meeting." She told me. "I want you to practice signing my . . . OUR name until you can make it look EXACTLY like that. And THEN you will learn to sign it without looking at the original at all."

That didn’t seem like TOO formidable a task. Not at first anyway. Of course I would have to practice . . . When I picked up the pen I immediately noticed a problem. My fingernails were in the way! I couldn’t hold the pen in my normal writing position.

Barbara was quick to take notice of my difficulty, and showed me how to hold the pen, by curling my index finger around it in what looked and felt like a awkward way. Now it was now hard enough to write normally, much less copy a strange signature. THIS was going to take a LOT of time to learn.

Except for a few breaks to watch television, so I wouldn’t be bored out of my skull, I spent the rest of the day practicing Barbara’s signature. I must have filled almost one hundred pages with line after line. I also was required to sit "properly" as I did this. That meant "Knees together". It was something else that I HAD to remember when I was concentrating on the writing.

My hand was beginning to cramp by suppertime. By now, I was doing a fair job. The signatures were looking quite close. Thank goodness Barbara told me that I could quit for the day. The way my hand was feeling, having to write in that awkward position would soon cause me to loose what progress I had made unless I quit now.

Before eating supper, Barbara had me change my clothes to a more "normal" and comfortable style. She had me take off the nylons and High heels and replaced them with another pair of pointy toed "flats". The dress was replaced by a pair of white shorts, about mid thigh length, and a pink knit top.

Now I looked like the "typical" 19 year old young woman, at home in casual dress. The outfit, save for the colors, looked very similar to what Barbara was wearing.

"There’s no sense in wearing a skirt and high heels, this time of day." She commented.

It was not less comfortable, however, I still had to wear the corset, bra and padded panties, under the clothes, to keep my shape.

After supper, we dressed for bed. I wore the same red satin nightgown I wore the pervious evening. Thankfully, I only had to wear breast padding under it. The way it hung from its "empire" style "waist" loosely covered my mid section so that I did not need the corset.

Barbara instructed me in how to cream my face and remove the day’s makeup. It worked! I was surprised at how easily it came off. The lipstick, however remained, as Barbara said it would. It was sort of scary and comforting at the same time. ‘Scary’ in the sense that it seemed an "un-removable" part of me, that bound me into femininity, but comforting in the fact that it formed part of a "mask" that disguised my face and helped make me unrecognizable.

The next morning I could see what Barbara had meant. If I looked closely, I could see that some of the outer "edges" of my red lips were starting to wear a bit uneven and "ragged".

Barbara wasted no time fixing them for me though, with a new application. I worried about how this would effect the rest of my mouth though. The lipstick, for the most part was still intact, and now I was getting a second coat! Would I EVER get it off?

Barbara had to work today, so I was going to be stuck at home with Mrs. Ainsworth. It didn’t worry me though. I would much rather stay indoors than go out in public like I looked now anyway.

My dress for the day would not be very elaborate. A simple, blue "shift dress", with the bra underneath of course, comprised the bulk of my costume. Thankfully, I did not have to wear the corset with this either, but she made me wear the high heels though.

A touch of eyebrow pencil, and the deep red lipstick I was wearing would be sufficient to keep me in character for the day.

Mrs. Ainsworth was no less a harsh "taskmaster than her daughter was though. Although I was pretty much left to my own devices to keep me occupied, reading, watching television, and the like, Mrs. Ainsworth was very good at "reminding me" to walk properly, keep, my legs together and to hold my arms and wrists "correctly".

By the time Barbara returned home from work that afternoon, she commented that she could see a "noticeable improvement" in how I "carried myself" from yesterday. "You will make a good woman." she said with a smile.

That night I wore a different gown to bed, off white with a fuller cut. Again I didn’t have to wear the corset. I noticed that my lips were as full and red as they had been this morning. Barbara could take her lipstick off. I couldn’t. I started to worry about this situation even more.

The next morning, Saturday, I was back in the corset so that I would look "normal" in the yellow blouse and red shorts outfit that Barbara had put me in. She wanted me to look a bit casual and not "overdressed". Her friend, "Millie" was coming over to visit.

I was nervous. Could I fool Barbara’s friend? She sensed my unease. "Don’t worry remember your lessons, and you will be just fine. Use your normal speaking voice, it is in the female range. Don’t be overly shy."

Millie arrived soon thereafter. She was dressed similarly to myself and Barbara. Despite being her best friend, I could see why she couldn’t be Barbara’s "double" for the lecture. She was a blue eyed blonde and noticeably taller.

Again, Barbara introduced me as her cousin, Mary. We exchanged a few friendly words, and to my relief, I got away with it. She turned back to Barbara and asked if she still planned to go on the big date with Mike, Sunday.

"Yes." Barbara replied excitedly.

"But what are you going to do about the lecture?" Millie asked. "Miss. Hanson will fire you if she finds out you didn’t go."

"Mary here, has agreed to take my place."

"But she doesn’t look like you. How. . ."

"No one who knows me will be there. All they know is that Barbara Ainsworth is a short attractive brunette. That’s what Miss. Hanson told her friend who is working the doors. Mary certainly fits the bill, now doesn’t she?"

"She’s perfect!" Millie replied with a giggle.

"So what are we going to do today?" Barbara asked as I sat nervously, wondering what kind of ordeal I would have to go through today.

"I thought we could spend the day at the beach, just us girls." Millie replied. "Get some sun and unwind a bit."

Barbara had to think about it. She looked at me for a few seconds then turned to Millie.

"OK, Lets do it!" she said.

I figured that I would be wearing the shorts and top, but to my surprise that was not to be.

"Mary needs a swimming suit" said Barbara. She can wear an old one of mine." "Is that alright, Mary?"

"Uh. . . Yes." I blurted without thinking what I was saying.

She signaled me with her finger to follow her into her room.

When I got there, Barbara was holding a green swimming suit and held it out in front of me.

"This should fit." She said.

"You’re joking right?" I commented incredulously as I looked at the garment. It was a one-piece elastic, strapless model with a kind of "wrap around" bottom. "I couldn’t wear that!"

By now I was sure that I could pass for a girl in public, so long as I wore enough clothes to camouflage my body and the padding beneath, but a woman’s swimming suit seemed pushing it a bit.

"We will try it anyway." said Barbara.

I had to strip down to my panties and corset. Barbara turned her back, to make me feel more comfortable while I removed the panties and slipped the suit on up to my waist.

"Gosh!" I thought, as I looked down at my long, smooth shaven legs extending out of the leg holes of the suit. They looked like real girls’ legs.

Barbara helped me pull the tight garment up the rest of the way, put some padding in the built in bra and zipped the suit up in the back.

A bit of flesh pushed out by the corset and padding peeked above either cup on my chest, giving a very good impression of the tops of real breasts and about an inch of cleavage.

I looked at my smooth bare arms and shoulders and shuddered. They looked so "feminine" it was beginning to frighten me.

Barbara had a light-green, rubber bathing cap that she stretched over my head and hair. It was entirely covered with overlapping "leaf" or "fish scale" like tabs that made it look like a kind of" fashionable "hat" or short green seaweed wig. I remember seeing a lot of women wear these at the beach and swimming pool.

I walked over to the mirror, and was shocked! I was now a "Bathing Beauty". The corset had given me the required hourglass shape, which the stretchy suit had further smoothed to perfection. My legs looked as good as any I have seen on any girl. The wrap-around bottom of the suit also served to just hide critical areas of my crotch, so there were no embarrassing bulges to be seen there. My acres of bare arms and shoulders combined with my fingernails and facial makeup completed the look.

I definitely could hold my own at the beach, and could likely sit in close proximity to Barbara and Millie and not feel like the "odd man (or woman) out".

Now this WAS scary. I could feel my knees getting weak. I started to hyperventilate. Barbara turned me away from the mirror and slipped a terrycloth beach robe over my outfit. I felt somewhat better, but I couldn’t get that picture out of my mind.

She had me sit down and "recover my composure" a bit as she and Millie changed into their own swimsuits.

A large, floppy straw hat was put on my head and a beach bag, containing a towel and suntan lotion, was hung on my shoulders. We got into Millie’s car for the twenty-minute ride to the beach at Dauphin Island.

Fortunately there were not very many people there, which was just fine with me. We spread out our blankets in the sand. Barbara and Millie set up an umbrella and removed their robes. Needless to say, they looked quite "hot".

Reluctantly, I slowly removed my robe also. Millie looked me over. Not in a lustful way, but more like guys are prone to do with each other in mutually "exposed" situations as compare themselves to each other.

I looked as good as she did, and judging by the ever so slight smirk on her face, she likely felt the same way.

I removed the floppy hat, and sat down on my blanket next to Barbara. She took out a bottle of suntan lotion and began to rub it on my back. She expected me to do the same for her.

Nervously, I rubbed the lotion on her smooth back. It was almost too much for me, after all, I was still a "normal" thirteen year old boy, despite what I looked like.

At the same time, Barbara, Did Millie’s back and seemed to think nothing of it. We put the lotion on our own arms and legs, ourselves.

I pretty much imitated the girls as they lay down to catch the sun. I posed my body like one or the other, I even turned as they did, when they did. I figured that they knew how much sun they could take this time of the year, so I decided to follow their lead, and hopefully not get burnt.

I got to experience being "given the eye", by the few men who walked by. "Don’t be nervous", Barbara reassured me. ‘Its when they stop looking at you is when you have to worry."

Before we left, we got to take a dip in the water for a few minutes, to wash off the sand and suntan oil. At least I got to go swimming. I felt a bit "overdressed" in the girls’ swimsuit though.

We all had a golden tan when we returned to the car to drive home. I overheard Millie remark to Barbara that "Mary seems so shy and uneasy. Is there anything I should know about her?"

Barbara smiled and looked at me, and then turned back to Millie. "That’s because she isn’t really a girl, she’s my mother’s friend’s thirteen-year-old son."

I was shocked! Barbara gave away my secret. It took Millie a second or two for what she was told to sink in.

SCREECH! Millie almost ran off the road, scaring us all! He pulled off on the shoulder and stopped.

"What?! You’re kidding right?!" Julie exclaimed when she recovered.

"It was the only thing we could think of." Barbara replied. " You couldn’t double for me, and none of my other friends could either."

"But she’s perfect! If you hadn’t told me, I would never have guessed."

"But you DID notice something wrong. That worried me."

"No, No," Millie replied. "I never doubted for a second Mary wasn’t a girl. She just seemed a bit too shy and uneasy, that’s all." Her eyes bugged out as she looked at me. I could feel my face begin to turn red.

"Incredible!, she has breasts and everything. She made me jealous at the beach.--- This isn’t a joke is it? Mary---"

"For now, her name’s ‘Barbara’, like mine. And it is no joke. Marty, uh. . . Barbara has to be perfect to pass for me, otherwise the whole thing is off."

"But she IS perfect, Barbara. Perfect enough. She shouldn’t be nearly as nervous as she will be wearing a lot more clothing at the lecture meeting. She won’t be there for no more than an hour or so either. So she can keep talking to a minimum. Trust me, she can pull it off."

She kept referring to me as "she". I didn’t know how to take that.

Later, back at the house, I noticed that Millie joined in the "nit picking". She watched me along with Barbara and contributed to the suggestions of how I should sit, how I should hold my hands, even what words I should use when I spoke. Not that Barbara hadn’t done a good job herself in the last couple of days, but "A little over training couldn’t hurt." Tomorrow was the "big day". Everything had to work. I could afford no "screw ups" or both Barbara and myself would be in a lot of trouble.

That night Barbara surprised me by renewing my lipstick before I went to bed. "It’s good for 24 hours, so it should still be fresh looking tomorrow evening, in time for the lecture." She explained. "Doing it now will give it some time to wear off before you go home Monday."

I sure hoped that she was right.

She put rollers in my wig hair, which was still stuck firmly to my own head. And just to be sure, she renewed the adhesive on the edges.

The next morning was a lot like the first day. Once again I was put in the tub wearing the swim suit bottom. I noticed that the day on the beach had left me with some "interesting" tan lines from my armpits up. I would have to be careful about going around without a shirt for a while after I got home. Thank God there were no shoulder strap lines, which would be even more embarrassing and harder to explain away.

Barbara shaved the stubble that had grown back over the last few days off my body. When she left, I dried off and put the panties back on again. Barbara helped me with the padded panty brief, the bra and laced me back into the corset.

She pulled a slip over my head and helped me as I struggled to pull on the dark brown nylon hose with my long fingernails. Next she had me slip on a white blouse with ruffles on the front and around the cuffs of the snug fitting elbow length sleeves. She pulled up a straight knee length red skirt around my waist and zipped it up the side and topped off the outfit with a matching red vest.

She slid the red high-heeled pumps on my feet and directed me to sit at the vanity while she spent not a little time fixing the small chips on my nails.

Barbara then started in on my makeup. Foundation was followed by a dusting of powder and rouge. My brows were penciled and she applied a blue-gray shadow to my eyelids. A dark liquid liner was heavily applied around my eyes, including a short slightly up curved line on the outer corners, giving them a slightly slanted look.

She piled on a couple of coats of mascara until I could actually see my own eyelashes without a mirror. I could actually "hear" them make a "crunchy noise" every time I blinked.

She touched up my lips with a little regular lipstick, to even the line out where the foundation had overlapped a bit here and there. She didn’t use much, as my lips were already red from the night before.

My hair was taken down out of the rollers and brushed into the "bubbly" pageboy looking style that she usually wore. A couple of pearl earrings were clipped on, along with a pearl necklace, a watch and some bracelets, a squirt of perfume and I was now complete.

I would have all day to get used to the outfit. Barbara expected me to perform perfectly as a woman from that point on. I did my best. I was "on" all day. I sat straight up, knees together, my lower legs slightly crossed and to the side. Hands in my lap.

I was determined that I would not "slip up". It was "the principle of the thing" that obsessed me now. I had to prove both to Barbara and myself that I could do it. Any "faux pas" on my part would be personally embarrassing to me.

I became the very image of "proper femininity". I tried to remember everything I was taught and even brought into play my own observations of feminine behavior , by asking myself how Sophia Loren or some other female celebrity would handle a given situation.

I concentrated on my walk. I was conscious of my every movement. When I rose or I sat down. I made sure I was posed "just so".

Barbara was now concerned that I might be "overdoing it." I looked very sophisticated and "formal". She convinced me to "loosen up" at least a little bit, but it much was harder to do than strictly "follow the rules".

Mrs. Ainsworth was quite impressed with me. As I sat cross legged in her easy chair while practicing her daughter’s signature. She jokingly told Barbara that I should be giving deportment lessons to HER.

At about four in the afternoon, Barbara decided that it was time to get me ready to go. I was in as good a form as I was going to be. She had me change my blouse to a cleaner one, but of an almost identical style.

She touched up my make up one more time, this time covering my lips entirely with the conventional lipstick. I would not have to refresh it, as my lips were the same color underneath, but she liked the more "shiny and even" texture. She applied a bit more perfume to me and that was it.

I would have to take a bus to the conference center as neither Mrs. Ainsworth or Barbara owned a car.

"Don’t worry, "said Mrs. Ainsworth, "I’ll ride with you, at least to the center. But you will have to ride back on your own. --- Don’t worry, you can do it."

Little Barbara got ready for her date after she fixed me up. Soon her friend "Mike" stopped by to pick her up for their date. Barbara looked fantastic. She was all dressed up for a night on the town. She looked almost as good as me.

I was introduced to Mike, with my convenient alternate name of "Mary", as one of mother’s friends. We exchanged pleasantries a few minutes before he and Barbara left on their date. I had him completely fooled.

Mrs. Ainsworth accompanied me to the bus stop soon afterwards. I checked my red handbag once again just to make sure that I had bus fare home.

"I’ll let you sit by yourself so I won’t embarrass you." Mrs. Ainsworth told me. "But I’ll be near by in case you think you might be getting into trouble."

The bus picked us up and we each put in the 25 cent fare. I found an empty window seat near the front and carefully sat down. Mrs. Ainsworth took the seat behind my own.

I got very nervous as a young man sat next to me at the next stop, but he behaved himself. He took a couple of looks, but that was about it. He got off not long afterwards.

Mrs. Ainsworth and me got off the bus near the conference center, but she stayed behind to catch the next bus back. "Now be careful, Marty, uh, Barbara. You did real well on the bus coming up here. Just do what Barbara told you and everything will go fine."

I stiffened my resolve, stood straight and checked myself before going into the center. It was now ShowTime. I had to be at my best. The first hurtle was coming up.

I walked in like I owned the place and was greeted by a Lady at the door.

My stomach was doing flip flops. "I’m Barbara Ainsworth, Mobile Public Library System." I said with as much confidence as I could muster.

"Yes, I was told to expect you." She replied as she looked me up and down. "Please sign in Miss Ainsworth."

There was a book on a table by the door. I took the pen laying near by and signed in with Barbara’s signature that I had been practicing for the last few days. I was pleased with the result. Another hurtle down! The lady at the table provided me with a nametag that I stuck to my chest. Now what?

I followed the signs to the auditorium. Lots of women and a few men were milling about, talking, socializing and eating hors d’oeuvres that were set up on a row of tables across the back of the room. I should have waited until the lecture was about to begin, but now I had to kill several minutes and risk possible exposure if I got into the wrong conversation with the wrong person.

I went to the hors d’ oeuvres table to find something to eat. I was hungry, I hadn’t had any supper. Besides, there would be less chance of someone starting a conversation with me if they saw my mouth was full.

I watched several of the other women eat and imitated them. I hadn’t practiced eating this kind of food before, and I have never eaten standing on my feet, at least not in costume. I seemed to be doing it right, as I didn’t appear to be attracting any unusual attention. I DID have to fight my boyish instincts to eat faster.

I picked up each morsel one at a time by its toothpick "handle" and carefully curled my lips out of the way as I brought it to my mouth. Not that I was concerned about messing up my lipstick, a few little canapés were not going to rub THAT stuff off, but that is how the other women did it. And I WAS wearing a coating of conventional lipstick on top, which I was not fond about adding to my diet.

Soon, however, the inevitable happened. I was approached by an older gentleman, with thick glasses and a beard. He glanced at my name tag and began to speak.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Ainsworth. I am Hyram Lyman of the State Library system. I take it that you are the representative of the Mobile system here tonight?"

"Uh, Yes, Mr. Lyman." I managed to reply. "Mrs. Hanson couldn’t make it. She sent me in her place."

"I’m sure that you will enjoy the lecture tonight, "Said Mr. Lyman, "Mr. Bertram is an excellent speaker and his ideas about modifications to the Dewey decimal system of classification are quite innovative. Mobile DOES use the Dewey decimal system does it not?"

"Of course," I replied, hoping like anything that I was right. I had to get away from this guy before he asked me something really difficult and exposed myself as a fraud or made something up that could get Barbara or her boss into trouble.

"Would you please excuse me? I have to go use the. . . uh ‘powder room’" I said with a pleasant smile, hoping not to put him off. He seemed to understand and I walked into the ladies room, just to indicate to him that I was telling the truth. I really didn’t have to go, but I needed to have a closed door between him and me until he moved on.

It looked pretty much like the men’s room, but with a stall or two where the urinals should be. A few stalls were occupied, but most of the ladies in there were fixing their makeup in the mirrors and touching up their hair dos.

I just couldn’t stand around doing nothing, so I pretended to be checking out my own appearance in the mirror. Once again a shutter ran through me as I realized how much like a real woman I appeared to be.---I thought that I would be used to that by now. If anything, it gave me a needed dose of self-confidence. I pretended that everything was OK, no hair or makeup problems to correct--I DID look good.

I ventured back into the auditorium when I figured that the coast was clear. I found a seat near the front row and settled in, taking care to watch my posture and to cross my legs.

The Lecture WAS boring as Barbara had suggested it would be, but I took a few notes so that Barbara would have something to tell Miss Hanson, so as to convince her that she indeed did attend.

It lasted over an hour, and I learned more than enough about the Dewey decimal system than I ever wished to know. When the applause was over, I wasted no time walking back out to the lobby as fast as my red high heels could carry me. I pleasantly said good bye to the ladies at the door and proceeded to walk to the nearest bus stop.

It was in sight when suddenly I was interrupted by a voice—"Barbara! Barbara Ainsworth?" I nearly jumped out of my shoes. Nobody, save for the sign–in lady at the door, knew I was supposed to be Barbara. Save for my general description and clothing style, I really didn’t look like the real Barbara anyway. No one that knew her would confuse us for one another. Perhaps someone at the conference center read my nametag and wanted to talk to me?

I turned to see a rather pleasant, though "professional looking" white haired older woman.

"Oh I’m Sorry," she said when she saw my face. "I thought that you were an employee of mine, Barbara Ainsworth. You looked just like her from the back."

Employee? I thought to myself. Could she be. . .?

"I’m Emma Hanson, by the way, Director of the South Branch of the Mobile Library System".

"Holy smokes!" I realized—It was Barbara’s boss!

"I just dropped by a few minutes ago to see if Barbara had shown up. She is so stubborn, I have to always keep tabs on her."

I quickly glanced down to check my nametag. Thank GOD I had removed it. If she had seen Barbara’s name there, It would have all been over.

"Was she there?" I carefully asked, not knowing if the scheme had actually worked.

"Apparently so," Mrs. Hanson replied. " She had signed in and Miss Enid, at the door, told me that she had left just after the lecture. I must have just missed her. Did you see anyone else out here Miss?"

"Yes," I lied. "A girl about my size, wearing a red suit, just got into a cab not a minute before you got here."

Before she could reply I saw my bus approaching.

"Whoops! Gotta go! My bus is here. " I told her. "Nice talking to you Miss Hanson."

She started to speak again, but I quickly jumped on the bus and dropped my quarter into the fare machine.

As luck would have it, all the seats were taken, but a young man stood up and offered me his own place, next to a boy who looked to be about my real age.

We said nothing, as we rode, but I could see that I was making the kid somewhat uneasy. I could understand that. I was shy around older pretty girls myself---Once.

I finally got off the bus and walked the block or so to Barbara’s house. She hadn’t arrived home yet, so I had to tell my story to a curious Mrs. Ainsworth.

About an hour later Barbara arrived. She was ecstatic. Mike had indeed proposed to her as his sister hinted that he would. Barbara showed us the ring. It was also our consensus that we had fooled Mrs. Hanson---all seemed right with the world.

I was relieved that I could now get out of these "girly things" and get to be a boy once again. Barbara, however insisted that I still wear a nightgown to the bed we shared.

I was able to take off all of the makeup, for the exception of the lipstick, which after the top coat was removed, DID, thankfully, show some signs or wearing away. "What would it look like the morning?" I wondered.

Barbara removed the wig, but made me wear the turban cover over my head, to look "normal" just in case we had an unexpected visitor. The Fingernails would have to be removed later, sometimes in the morning, as it would be somewhat of an involved operation.

The next morning I got to wear my own boys clothes again and my own underwear. No more panties, Bras or skirts---Yay!

But I still looked like somewhat of a "freak" with my plucked eyebrows, long red fingernails and my lips still obviously covered with red lipstick. It looked very worn, to be sure, but still looked like a woman’s lips at the end of the day, before she wipes the last traces of her lip coloring off.

I continually rubbed my mouth with a white face cloth. I was careful not to rub my lips actually raw though. The little red flakes in the fabric indicated that I was making some progress---Perhaps by lunch time. . .

I was curious to see how Barbara would remove the fingernails.---She poured a bottle of some stuff that smelled like acetone into a bowl and had me place the finger tips of my right hand into it. Like magic, the color faded and the nails seemed to melt away. She repeated the process with the left hand and then rubbed some sort of lotion on my fingertips, to keep them from looking so dry.

The eyebrows posed yet another problem. Thankfully, they did not look so "girly" without the eyebrow pencil, but they sure were noticeably "thinner" than what they had been before. My sister and our curious friends would definitely ask me about it. To my surprise, Barbara yanked a few MORE hairs out, giving them a more ragged appearance.

"There!" Barbara explained. "You can say your eyebrows got burned off when you were helping Mother light the gas oven."

The explanation was as good as any.

I also had to "Work" at "Unlearning" the female mannerisms that I had acquired the last few days. It felt good and was easy to allow myself to sit with my legs apart, but it took a couple of hours to break the habit of my feminine walk.

It was almost noon. I was supposed to be on my way home now, but my lips still bore stubborn traces of the red lipstick. There was no way I could explain THIS stuff away to my sister, who I am sure would tease me about wearing lipstick for months to come if she saw me this way.

Barbara noted my concern and gave my mother a phone call. "Alright, you can go home now, Marty" Barbara said. "Everything is taken care of."

With a smile, she handed me my Twenty Dollars "Here Marty, you earned this. Good Job!"

I walked the several blocks to my home, careful to either press my lips together or hide my mouth behind my hand, so no one would see. Actually, the red was barely noticeable by now, but still could be an object of attention in the home environment.

To my horror, I saw my sister sitting on the front porch reading a magazine. Marty’s home! She called to our mother and went back to her reading.

"Oh Marty!" Said my mother as she ran out the front door to greet me. "I missed you so much!"

Before I could react, she planted a big red kiss directly on my lips. It HAD to have left a mark.

"Awww Ma!" I complained as I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. A red smear confirmed my suspicion.

My sister looked up and grinned, "You still missed a few spots.--- Hey what happened to your eyebrows?"

"They got burned off when I was helping Mrs. Aisworth light the oven." I replied.

"Oh wowww! You could have been hurt." She had forgotten all about the lipstick.

"That’s why I like electric stoves" My mother replied.

And THAT settled that. Everything was back to normal again. The lipstick had completely wore off by supper time. I was never quite as shy around girls any more, my sister Mary never found out what I had been doing for the last five days, my pride was intact and I was Twenty Dollars richer.

THE END