Modern Bride, Part Four
[email protected]

The next day I returned to the studio.  After a brief meeting with Kunyak to discuss the order and times of the shooting the following weeks, I stopped by the set to see how Patrick’s shooting was progressing.  The crew was taking a break.  I glanced at some of the proofs Slim was editing.

“What the heck’s this?”  I said, looking at a picture.

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?  All yesterday everyone kept telling me to look nervous and self-conscious, like I was worried about what Patrick would think of me.  But Patrick looks like he’s about to go conquer the world.”

Slim grinned.  “It’s what Kunyak wanted.  Patrick is supposed to be totally sure of himself, but you’re supposed to be frightened that he won’t be interested in you.”

I turned away.  It was a nasty experience to know what sexism is like.  I guess people like Lori had to put up with it their whole lives; me, I was just starting to notice it.  

I was interrupted from my sulking by a voice behind me.  “Hi, Kim.  Didn’t expect to see you here today.”  It was Patrick.

“Hey, Patrick.  What are you up to?”

“Just finishing up around here.  So what are your plans tonight?”

Without thinking, I told him I didn’t have any.

“Well, maybe you’d like to have dinner with me?”  he asked.  He wasn’t cocky about it, but he was clearly asking me out.

I opened my mouth to tell him no, when I began to think.  We would be working together for a long time, and asking me to dinner was rather innocent.  If I said no, he’d probably think I was being snobbish, and felt too important to hang out with him.  I’d be working with him for many months, and I didn’t want him to think I was a bitch.

“Okay.  Sure.  I’ll meet you here around 5:00.”

When I came home, I was restless and uneasy, wondering if I had made the right choice.  Lori noticed my discomfort, and wangled a confession out of me.  

“So you’re going out with Patrick tonight?”

“It’s not like that.  We’re just friends.”

“I understand.  So what are you going to wear?”

“I’m not sure.  The last thing I want to do is give the impression I’m excited about going out with him.  But I don’t want him to think I’m annoyed or bored with him.  Jesus, I’m turning out worse than my image in the catalog.”

Lori smiled.  “Just dress nice, but not erotically.  Be friendly, but not flirty.  I know you want to stay on his good side, so just relax, and have a good time.  Most guys can tell when someone isn’t interested in them romantically.  If you play your cards right, he’ll get the picture without you having to say a word.”

“Good advice.  Now can you help me get ready?  What should I wear?”

Lori and I scoured both my closet and hers.  Finally, we selected a pair of black slacks, a tight gray sweater, and heels.  The outfit gave the impression that I had put on something nice for the outing, but nothing out of the ordinary.  We would just be a couple of friends out for dinner.

I met Patrick at the appointed time.  “You look nice,” he said.  As we walked out to his car, I mentally dissected the three -world sentence.  What exactly did he mean by ‘nice’?  What was he implying?  I told myself to calm down and stop worrying.

We pulled up to a rather nice restaurant and soon we were seated and talking.  It was the first time I had ever really talked to Patrick, and I quickly realized what a nice person he was.  He wasn’t vain, or stupid, or overtly sexist.  I began to regret that I wouldn’t be able to be friends with him after the year was over.  

As the night wore on, I found myself doing something that I normally avoided: drinking.  Maybe it was that I needed to unwind after the past couple of days of shooting, or maybe it was to hide my nervousness at being on a sham date.  Whatever the cause, I found myself downing quite a few glasses of wine.  

The liquor relaxed me.  Soon I was guardedly talking about my fears about the photo shoot and how I would be glad when it was all over.

“It’s not that I don’t enjoy modeling, per se,” I babbled, “It’s just that it’s really not my thing.”

“Well, you’re rather good at it,” he replied.  “Do you think you’d like to do more of it after this year?”

“I doubt it.  I told you about the deal I made with Kunyak.  After this, I’m hitting the books.”

“Wise choice.”

“Hey, what about you?  I thought you were a college man.”

“I dropped out.”

“Why?  I mean, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“I…I just went through a nasty breakup.  I couldn’t concentrate on my classes, so I took a year off.  Hopefully working on this shoot will help me to forget…things.”

I smiled my sweetest smile.  “Well, it beats the foreign legion.  I’m sure you won’t even remember her name once we’re finished.”

Patrick got an odd look on his face when I said that.  For a moment I feared that I had offended him; for all I knew, he didn’t want to forget her.  We were silent for a while.  When Patrick spoke again, he took the conversation in another direction.

“Kim, I’ve really enjoyed tonight.  You’re a good conversationalist.  I feel that I’ve known you for a long time.”

‘Oh God,’ I thought.  ‘Here is comes.  He’ll tell me what a friend I am, how he feels a bond between us, how he thinks we’ll get along well, and would I like to come back to his place?  Forget it.’

I had misjudged Patrick, however, as I found out when he continued speaking.  “Kim, I’m going crazy here.  I was in love last year, and when we broke up…I guess I’m wondering if I’ve made the mistake of my life.  I’m sorry to unload on you, you’re the only person I know here in New York.”

Relieved that he at least wasn’t going to make a pass at me right then, I began to relax.  “Patrick, I know how lonely this town can be (cue musical score).  If you feel like talking, I’m a good listener.”

He smiled.  “There’s not a lot to tell.  I guess I’m wondering what I’ve given up.”

“I take it you still have feelings for her?”

Patrick got the funny look again.  “Kim, I know I’m telling you a lot of personal things for someone you don’t know very well.  Seriously, we can talk about something else, if you like.”

Though I didn’t exactly feel like playing Freud that night, I figured he needed a friend to listen to him.  “Please Patrick, let it out.  It’s okay.”

“Kim, can I tell you something personal?  Something you’ll have to swear not to tell another soul?”

“Sure…certainly.”  Actually, I didn’t like the sound of that.  Just what was he about to reveal to me?

“The relationship I ended last year,” he paused again.  “It was with a guy.”

I guess my shock was obvious, because he looked deeply ashamed.  “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he said, humiliated.  

“No, no, Patrick, please.”  I felt like the biggest heel in the world; after all, I was sitting there dressed like a woman.  Who was I to be shocked at someone ‘coming out’?  Overcoming my revulsion, I reached over and patted his hand.  “I just had no idea you were…”

“But I’m not!” he interjected.  “I never have been!”  He couldn’t make eye contact when he said this.  “But when I met Jeff last year.  I dunno…first we were friends, but then it got physical.  I never thought I’d ever feel that way for a man, but I guess that was the closest I’ve ever come to being in love.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, I wasn’t gay, but Jeff was.  Openly.  He got tired of sneaking around, said he wanted us to be a couple.  I couldn’t do that.  So we ended it.”  Patrick rubbed his forehead.  “What the hell’s wrong with me?”

I was surprised how despondent he looked.  It wasn’t hard for me to sympathize.  He had done an unmasculine thing, and now he was worried about the significance.  I certainly felt for him, I was in the exact same situation.  Of course, I had Lori to talk to; Patrick probably didn’t have anyone to confide in.  On the other hand, Patrick did what he did freely; I had been forced.

I knew what I had to do.  Knowing that I would soon be desperately trying to suppress the memory, I took his hand in mine.  “Patrick,” I began, “you have nothing to worry about.  You were just curious, that’s all.  I bet you’d be surprised at the number of guys who’ve been in similar situations.”  Patrick instantly brightened.  I think he just needed someone to tell him he wasn’t less of a man.  I continued.  “Now you seem to think highly of this Jeff person, but I don’t think it would have lasted.  You obviously aren’t ready to make a relationship like that public, and it would have been unfair to both of you to assume things would have worked out.  Treasure your memories, and don’t worry about it.”

Patrick smiled and me and squeezed my hand.  I politely retracted it.  “Thank you so much, Kim.  I guess I just wanted to hear that from someone else.”

“No problem, Patrick.”  

Patrick called me a cab to take me home.  At the sidewalk, he gave me a hug.  I wanted to wrench away, but I couldn’t.  Ducking out of a kiss was one thing, but refusing a hug from a friend would have been callous.  

*

Due to a series of technical setbacks, Patrick and I didn’t go on our ‘date’ until late October.  This set production back considerably.  By the time we were ready, it looked like we’d have to work ten-hour days until new years.  

On the day of the shoot, everyone looked like they were ready to pull out their hair.  I know I would have, had I not just gotten a permanent.  

Today’s shooting would be outside on the New York City streets.  I was wearing black leather boots, dark hose, a long charcoal skirt, and a white sweater.  Patrick met me as I stepped out of the trailer where I dressed.  “You ready?”

“I suppose.  Let’s get it over with.”

Patrick grinned.  “What kind of attitude is that for a first date?”

“I’m not in the mood, Patrick.”

“No, I’m serious.  We’re supposed to be falling in love.  I know things have been rough recently, but if both of us don’t look like we’re on cloud nine, Kunyak’s going to make us do it all over.”  He paused.  “Just pretend…uh, that we’re just going out for the night.  Just us.  No cameras, no catalog.  Just relax.”

It sounded suspiciously like Patrick was trying to make this a real date, but I ignored it.  He had made a good point.  He was playing my future husband, I shouldn’t look as stressed and irritated as I felt.

“I’m sorry Patrick.  I’ll put on a happy face.  I’ve just been strung out recently.”

“Well, with the schedule we’re going to have to work, I can’t say I blame you.”

“Well, it’s not just that.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me; I’ve just been real moody recently.”

“Have you been on any medication?  I was on this stomach medication once that made me loopier than a bedbug.”

“Nothing new, just…” just synthetic female hormones.  Yikes!  Was that why I’d been on an emotional roller coaster recently?  I’d talk to Lori about it when I came got home.

Patrick took me by the hand and we went off on our date.  We tried to act casual as the cameraman snapped shot after shot of us dining, talking, drinking, window shopping (in front of a store displaying many of Kunyak’s designs, of course), and strolling through the park at twilight.  Finally, we came to the scene I had been dreading: the goodnight kiss.

Now, despite the fact that Patrick had given me a kiss at the bridal show, this was different.  The bridal kiss had been brief and almost chaste, a public kiss from a groom to a bride.  This was different.  This would be an ‘end-of-date, will I sleep with this woman someday?’ type of smooch.

Even though it was all staged, his lips would touch mine.  And not briefly.  We’d have to hold the kiss as the photographers set up the lighting, decided on angles, and a thousand other technical details.  Which meant I could be spending about a half-hour with my lips against his.

My senior year in high school, I had been in a production of ‘The Music Man.’ In once scene I had been called upon to kiss a pretty girl.  I was all for it, but she let me know that there was no way.  We got around it by my putting my back to the audience and pretending to kiss her.  I had hoped that I could do it like that here, but no dice.

“The kiss,” Kunyak had told me, “is vital.  This catalog is targeted to young brides.  They have to be thinking ‘this is true love.’  After that, they’ll associate my clothes with that feeling.  So kiss him like you mean it.  He’s not bad looking, it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Shouldn’t be too hard.  Right.  Maybe if I was a real woman, but as a guy I had zero desire to lock lips with Patrick.  I wondered what he’d think if he knew my true gender.  At first I thought he’d be disgusted and angry, but now that he had confided his romantic past in me, I had begun to wonder.  Maybe he’d even like the fact I was secretly a guy.  Well, it was an academic point.  He’d never know my secret.

I approached the kiss the same way that I faced having my wisdom teeth out:  I didn’t think about it until it was happened.  Even when I stood in front of him at the door to ‘my’ apartment building, my mind was elsewhere, avoiding what was about to occur.

Patrick placed his hand on my cheek.  He moved his head closer.  I could smell the chewing gum on his breath.  His lips touched mine, and pressed.  Hard.

At first, I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was kissing a girl.  No such luck.  Patrick’s stubble, prominent jaw, and rough hand precluded any thoughts of femininity.  No, I was kissing a man.

I tried to relax.  Really I did.  But the fact that I was locking lips with someone of the same gender kept creeping back to my mind.  I guess it showed, because Kunyak yelled for us to stop.

“Kim,” he said, “you need to calm down.  I know it’s not easy kissing someone on command, but remember what I told you earlier.  Try not to look so tense.”

Take two.  I took a deep breath and let him kiss me.  I put everything out of my head.  With a little biofeedback I managed to let my muscles go limp, my breathing to calm, and allow myself to be smooched.  In a little more than ten minutes, it was all over.  When Kunyak announced we could stop, I got the irritating impression Patrick held on to me just a little longer than he needed to.

Wishing to avoid looking at Patrick, I excused myself to go home.  In order not to think about what just happened, I engaged in mindless banter with the cabby.  Soon I was back in Lori’s apartment.

“So how did the shoot go?” she asked.

“It went okay, I guess.”  I could tell Lori was dying to ask about the kiss, but prudently held her tongue.  She knew how sensitive I was about this.

“Lori, can I ask you a personal question?”  I ventured, wondering if I should even mention it.

“Of course, Kim.  What’s on your mind?”

“Would you ever consider dating a guy who’d spent a year as a girl?”

Lori sat me down on the sofa.  “That’s a good question.  I guess you deserve an honest answer.  I don’t know.  That would be a lot for a woman to take.”

I sighed.  “Lori, I’m getting scared.  I’m wondering if I’ve got in too deep.  Being Kim for a year, growing breasts, dressing as a bride…not to mention I practically had to make out with Patrick tonight.  Maybe I should just give this up and get my manhood back.”

Lori slung an arm around me.  “Kim, you’re right, you are in very deep.  Too deep to walk away just now.  After all you’ve suffered, do you really want to stop now?  You’d be giving up a great opportunity, not to mention all the work you’ve done so far.  See this thing out; you’ve worked too hard to quit.”

“Maybe so, but I feel like I’m loosing my mind!  One moment I’m disgusted with myself, the next, I’m upset because I broke a nail.  I go from ecstatic to weepy in a couple of minutes.  This lifestyle’s making me bonkers!”

Lori smiled.  “I don’t think it’s the lifestyle, sis.”

“Then what is it?”

“The hormones.  You’re experiencing the ups and downs of womanhood.  Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it.  Just keep a cool head.”

“So in other words, I’m going through PMS.  Jesus, could I be any less manly?”

“I’m starting to worry about you.  I’ll tell you what, maybe you’re approaching this the wrong way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just forget you were a man.  Pretend you were always a woman.  Hell, sometimes I forget you weren’t born my sister.”

“Don’t be stupid, Lori.  I can’t ‘forget’ my gender.”

“I don’t mean literally.  Just stop thinking of how a man would act.  Every time you have to do something unmanly, just tell yourself ‘I am a woman.’  Living in denial can be powerful.”

I shook my head, and locked myself in my room.  I disrobed down to my panties and regarded my naked form.  Hairless.  Big rear.  Hips.  Flat stomach.  Tiny breasts with sensitive, perky nipples.  My sex drive had decreased recently, as well.  I could still get an erection, but the lust I used to feel for all pretty women was gone.  

I pulled on a padded bra and looked at the girl in the mirror.  “I am a woman,” I told her.  “I am a woman and the year will be over before I know it.  Be brave.”

*

It’s weird how often an innocuous event can change the course of one’s life.  People meet their soulmate at a change encounter at a 7-11.  Someone gets hit by a car crossing the street to buy a newspaper.  A summer job becomes the career of a lifetime.

Sometimes I’m amazed at how many little events lead up to what eventually happened.  Lori breaking her legs.  Kunyak taking a shine to me.  My avarice overcoming my pride when he offered me a job.  And of course, there was the snowstorm.  

November passed in a series of ten to twelve hour a day blurs.  Patrick and I went on several more sham dates.  Parties, where dozens of models had a chance to show off their clothes.  A symphony, where Patrick and I could model our fancy formalwear.  A winter hike, where we could display the outdoorsy designs of one of Kunyak’s colleagues.  We were about to get back on schedule and be able to slacken our pace again, when the blizzard hit town.

It was a freak, late fall occurrence.  Anyone who lived out east at that time is sure to remember it.  Roads shut down, schools closed, electricity out, general headaches all around.  Everywhere we had planned to shoot was buried under two feet of snow.  We managed to do a few impromptu shots in the studio, but that quickly petered out.  We could only show Patrick and myself in our ‘apartments’ so many times.

Kunyak was beside himself.  He’d pace the darkened studio, tearing at what little hair nature had left him.  Every day without shooting would mean a few less pages in the finished product.  And less pages meant fewer ads.  And fewer ads meant less money.  

I remember it was December 3rd when Kunyak called me at home, telling me to meet him at the studio, ASAP.  I wondered what was up.  I hoped he had found a new photo location.  With the money being lost every day, there was talk of postponing the whole project indefinitely.  

When I arrived at the studio, a found Kunyak leaning back in his director’s chair, calm and confident as ever.  Patrick arrived a few minutes later.

“So what’s the big news?” asked Patrick.  “Figure out a way to do some shooting?”

“Perhaps.  Kimberly, would you mind showing us your back?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Your back.  Could you pull up your shirt, please?”

Wondering what was going on, I hiked the back of my sweater up over my shoulders.  

“Hmmm,” said Kunyak.  “What do you think, Patrick?”

“Uh, about what?”

“About Kimberly’s back.”

“Um.  Well, it’s nice.  Muscular.  A guy might enjoy rubbing lotion on it.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

I let my sweater drop, offended.  “Are you two through?” I asked, angrily.  “Or should I show some leg now?”

“I apologize,” said Kunyak.  “But believe it or not, I do have a reason behind this.  You see, I think it’s time for you to sleep with Patrick.”

“All right!” yelled Patrick.  I assumed he was horsing around.  I, however, was much less enthused.

“What exactly do you mean?”

“Hear me out.  In catalog time, you and Patrick have been dating for almost half a year.  I have a friend who has a cabin upstate.  I was thinking catalog Kim and catalog Patrick could spend a weekend there.  More outdoor clothes, bathrobes for when they change out of their winter things, and pajamas for the night (we’ll save the lingerie for the honeymoon).  Also, a supplier of home furnishings has expressed interest in this spread.  You know, bedding, curtains, throw rugs.  If this goes off, we can recoup most of the losses.”

That wasn’t what was on my mind.  “So what does this have to do with my back?”

“Well, myself and several of the other designers thought that there hasn’t been enough sensuality between you and Patrick.  We’re going to need a shot of you two in bed.  And in order to really sell it, you’ll need to be topless.”

“Topless?  No thank you!  This is a clothes catalog we’re making, not soft core porn.”

“Relax Kimberly.  The shot will be set up with Patrick in the background, facing the camera.  You’ll be facing him, with your back to the camera.  Very sexy, very erotic, but only your lovely backside visible.”

“So that means Patrick will see my bare chest.”  Patrick looked nervous, but not unhappy, when I said this.

“I suppose, but if you just try to see things…”

“No way!  Not a chance.  Nothing doing.”  I couldn’t very well let Patrick see my tiny little fake breasts.  He’d know the truth instantly.

Mr. Kunyak looked at Patrick.  “May we have a few moments alone?”  Patrick excused himself.

“Kimberly, I have to be honest with you.  We’re really hurting financially here.  I can’t afford to keep everyone on the payroll when we can’t shoot.  We must do this, or I’m just going to write this project off.  And I’m afraid that means your scholarship will go too.”

“Is it really that serious?  I mean, does this whole shoot depend on Patrick seeing my breasts?”

“I’m afraid so.  The sponsors want sexy.  You should have seen the shoot they originally wanted to do.”

I was growing upset.  Giving up the scholarship I had sacrificed all these months for.  I wanted to cry.  But one fact remained.  There was no way I could let Patrick in on my dirty little secret.

“Look, just think about it tonight.  I’m sorry I have to be like this, but I’m a businessman first.”

I left without saying goodbye.

When I got home, Lori was out.  ‘Stupid sexist society,’ I thought.  ‘They can’t even sell bed sheets without me taking my top off.  I should have known better than to try and get away with this.’  Taking off my shirt and inspecting my breasts, I wondered if they could pass for real.  

No, no such luck.  While I was surprised at how quickly they were developing, they still looked like they belonged on a thirteen-year old girl, not a woman.  True, they jiggled a bit.  They were also pert and soft, with brown nipples the size of quarters.  Extra sensitive as well.  I now knew why women wore bras, even when they were home alone.  But I could never pass myself off as extra-flat.  Patrick would think something was up.

But then I began to think.  Hadn’t Patrick confided an embarrassing secret in me?  True, one homosexual experience wasn’t nearly as weird as dressing like a bride, but it was a bond.  Maybe if I leveled with him, told him what to expect, he’d understand.  Or at least keep his mouth shut about what he saw, if not for my sake, for the sake of his job.  

Now the fact that we had kissed several times complicated matters.  How would he react?  Well, he had kissed another man willingly, so he’d probably let this go.

There was a knock at the door.  I wasn’t surprised when it turned out to be Patrick.  “Kunyak sent you over, didn’t he?”  I said before he could say anything.

“Uh, yes he did.  Listen, would it really be so bad?  I promise to be a gentleman.  Seriously, would this be the first time a guy saw your breasts?”

“Yes, Patrick, it would.”  

“Oh.”  Patrick seemed stunned, I guess he didn’t have me pegged for a virgin.

“But that’s not why I’m scared,” I continued.  “Look, I’m mature enough to do this, and I trust you.  But I have a secret, Patrick.  Something I’m afraid to let you know.”

“Please Kim, you can tell me.  What?  Do you pad your bra?  It’s okay, I won’t tell.”

“Well, yes, but it’s not that.  Patrick, earlier this year you told me a secret.  Can I tell you one now?  A bigger one?”

“Um, all right.  What?”

“I’m not really a woman.  I’m a man in drag.”  Patrick laughed.

“No, I’m serious.  I’m Lori’s brother, not her sister.  I had to fill in for her at the bridal show after the accident, and I stayed on because the money was so good.  Here, look at this.”  I showed him my old driver’s license.  “See, that’s me.”

Patrick stared at the picture a bit.  Then, without a word, he stood up and kicked Lori’s coffee table half way across the floor.  “You son of a bitch!”  he screamed.

I began to fear for my safety.  “Patrick, what the hell’s gotten into you?”  

“What’s gotten into me?  How in God’s name can you ask that?  You let me kiss you a bunch of times, and then expect me not to be pissed off?”

“Well Patrick, I thought you’d understand.  I mean, you’ve already…”  I trailed off.

“I’ve already what?  Kissed a guy?  Is that what you were going to say?”  He punched the wall.  “I guess you think that makes me a fag, huh?  Well it doesn’t.  I told you before it was a one time thing.  I don’t care how you live your life, but I’m sure as hell never getting close to you again.  In fact, I’m going to go tell Kunyak the truth.”  He left before I could say anything else.

It had never occurred to me he’d be this angry.  I should have left bad enough alone and quit when I still could have.  Now, Kunyak and all my friends from the shoot would know my horrible secret.  I was sunk.  I curled up on the sofa and did something I hadn’t done since Lori’s accident: I bawled.

I must have fallen asleep on the couch.  When I glanced around the apartment, I realized it was the middle of the night.  I rubbed my tear swollen eyes and got up.  A lone answering machine message told me that Lori was going to spend the night at a friend’s house, thereby depriving me of the one person I could confide in.

I wandered to the bathroom to wash my face. ‘What should I do?’ I asked the frightened, disheveled girl who started back at me from the mirror.  ‘Face Kunyak, or just run away now?’ I was interrupted from my introspection by the shrill ringing of the phone.

Late night phone calls are never a good thing.  Perhaps it was Mr. Kunyak calling to fire me on the spot.  Or Patrick, wanting to yell at me some more.  Still, it could have been a real emergency, so I picked up.

“Kim, is that you?”  It was Patrick.  

“Yes,” I answered guardedly.  

“I’m sorry to call so late, but I need to talk to you.  Can we meet somewhere?”  He didn’t seem angry.  Hoping for a way out of the mess I found myself in, I gave him the address of a local greasy spoon and told him I’d be there in a half-hour.

When I arrived at the all-night diner, Patrick was already there waiting for me.  “Kim, please sit down.”  Good, he was calm.  Maybe we could work out some way for me to hold on to my secret.

“Patrick,” I began, “I’m sorry for lying to you.  I shouldn’t have…”

“No, Kim, I’m the one who should be sorry.  I confide a secret in you and you’re there for me, you confide in me and I blow up.  I had no right.”  I tried to interject something, but he held up his hand.

“Look, it’s just after what happened between Jeff and myself, I’ve been really questioning my manhood.  I was afraid I was gay.  And when I met you, I…well, I might as well be honest.  I was really attracted to you.  I’ve been thinking about you constantly, ever since the first bridal show.  I really enjoyed kissing you on all those shoots, and when I thought I was going to see you topless…well, let’s just say I was convinced that my attractions lay firmly with women.  Then, when I found out the woman I had been fantasizing about all these months was a man, it just put me back to square one.”

I hung my head.  “I’m so sorry, Patrick.  It wasn’t fair to you.  At least you were honest with from the start.  I haven’t been honest until now.”

Patrick took my hand and I didn’t pull away.  “I’ll tell you what.  Let’s just pretend tonight never happened.  If you’ll forget my bad attitude, I’ll forget your secret.  And if you do decide to do that topless shoot, trust me, I’ll never tell.”

As I left the diner that night, I was both relieved at Patrick’s understanding, and ashamed at my own deception.  I was also nervous.  I had no idea Patrick’s feelings were that strong for me.

Of course I ended up agreeing to that damn sexist shoot.  Our jobs would have been in jeopardy otherwise.  So for two solid days, I held hands with Patrick as we pretended to ice skate, toasted him as we snuggled in front of the fireplace, and made out with him as we rolled around on a bearskin rug.

Finally, ‘the’ shoot came.  I warned all the crew that if anyone so much as tried to catch a glimpse of my front side, I was walking off the project.  It was bad enough I had to expose my new breasts to Patrick, a guy who admittedly had the hots for me.  The crew agreed.  Since my back was to the camera, they all stood a few paces back, allowing me security from any prying glances.

Patrick did a good job of playing it cool.  Very rarely did I catch him stealing a glance at my developing nipples.  But he did see everything, from my head to my navel.  I was glad when Mr. Kunyak said “That’s a wrap,” and I could get dressed again.

As I sipped hot chocolate and waited for the drivers to bring around the trucks to take us back to town, I pondered what had happened.  Why did I feel so naked back there?  I had been topless at dozens of pools, beaches, and locker rooms all my life.  And yet with Patrick, I felt I was standing there without a stitch on.

God, these hormones were doing strange things to me.  I guess now that I had breasts, I felt quite girlish.  Women don’t take off their tops for the world to see.  I guess I was experiencing was typical feminine modesty.

Patrick tapped my on the shoulder.  “Great shoot.  Bet you’re glad it’s over with.”

“Bet you aren’t,” I teased him.

“Well, I’m not the only one.  Randy (the teenage gofer), has been pestering me to give a Technicolor description of what I saw.”

“Wonderful.  Just remember your promise.”

“Yeah.  Hey listen,” he looked around to make sure no one could hear us.  “You told me you were a guy, but that sure wasn’t a man’s chest I saw there.  I mean, they were tiny, but those were definitely breasts.”

I blushed.  “I’m taking estrogen.  I’ve developed a bit, you might say.”

Patrick shook his head, as if to clear it.  “Kim, I know you claim to be a man, but if you don’t mind my saying, you’ve got the makings of a damn fine woman.”  He hurried off before I could think of a comeback.

*

That was the last major shoot of ’99.  We all had a week off for Christmas.  Lori and I both looked forward to spending Christmas with our mother.  Since my rapidly increasing breasts made wearing male clothes impossible, I elected to spend the holidays as Kim.  

Christmas was relaxing.  Mom eagerly asked questions about the shoot, the clothes I was wearing, how I wore my hair, and such.  At first I found it a little unnerving; it was if I were her daughter and had always worn dresses, but after a bit the three of us were chatting away about female clothes, as natural as could be.

When Christmas morning dawned, Lori and I rushed to the tree, as eager as if we were still both six years old.  Mom and Lori both appreciated the clothes I had gotten them with my employee discount at Mr. Kunyank’s firm.  Most of my presents were my usual Christmas fare: books, CDs, a video game.  But a couple of presents made me wonder.  Lori had gotten me an expensive makeup mirror.  Mom had gotten me a curling iron and a blow dryer.  I thanked them, but I began to wonder.  In six months the photo shoot would be over.  Why would they get me presents that I would only need for half a year?

Finally, Lori and I opened two presents that mom insisted that we open together.  I was surprised to find that both boxes contained a white sundress, with a floral design.  Lori squealed and thanked mom, I did so with less enthusiasm.  It seemed like such a waste of money.  I’d maybe be able to wear it a couple of times in the summer; after that it would just go to goodwill (or more likely, Lori’s closet).

“Well, what are you waiting for?” asked Mom.  “Try them on!”

Lori took me by the hand and lead me two her bedroom where we began to change into our Christmas gifts.  It wasn’t until Lori was helping me button up the back that I realized we both had just stripped to our skivvies without a second thought.  We were both used to thinking of me as Kim, I guess.

Lori insisted that we dress as much alike as possible.  Matching shoes, matching jewelry, matching makeup.  When she finished, we stepped out and presented ourselves to Mom.  

“You two look darling!” she said.  “Like twin sisters.”

“Hang on, now,” I replied.  “Remember, only one of us is a sister.”

“I know,” said Mom, “but you could easily pass for one now.”

I didn’t want to cast a pall on Christmas by arguing, but I felt I had to say something.  “What do mean by that?  You realize I’m only doing this for the money.”

“But are you having any fun?”  asked Lori.

I was about to answer with a resounding ‘no,’ but decided to think about it a bit.  “Well, New York’s been fun, and I guess I’ve met some interesting people.  But it’s only going to last for a few more months.  Why did you guys get me all this girl stuff?”

Mom looked at Lori and she nodded.  “Well,” began Mom, “I know you keep saying you want to go back to living as a guy.  But Lori and I both want you to know, that if for any reason you want to continue being Kim, well, you won’t owe us any explanations.”

I tried to protest, but Lori beat me to the punch.  “We’re not saying that you like living as a woman, or that you should or anything.  But we both think you make a lovely girl.  So if, for some reason, you don’t want to go back to being Ken, we’d support you completely.”

I took a deep breath to control my temper.  “Thank you, but that won’t be happening.  Now who’s up for ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’?

As we watched the Christmas classic, I tried to decide why my family was acting this way.  I confronted Lori when we were alone.

“What was all that about?”

“I guess we were a little presumptuous there.  I’m still trying to figure out how you feel about things.”

“Nothing’s changed.  I don’t like this lifestyle, I can’t wait to change back.”

“We figured as much.  But you used to complain about it constantly, now you seem to really be happy.  I haven’t seen you in male clothes since the summer, and those hormones are turning you into a doll!  I guess we just figured that if you happened to enjoy being Kim, you didn’t need to be ashamed of it.”

“Well, thanks for the sentiment, but come July, it’s all over.  Still, I guess I am getting used to Kim.  It won’t be easy turning back.”

“You’ll do fine.  Just remember what we said.”

*

All too soon the vacation was over and we had to fly back to New York.  We did not, however, have to immediately have to return to work.  Kunyak had arranged a huge New Year’s party for everyone involved in the shoot.  Just about everyone attended.  As the world rang in the new millennium (or hunkered down in Y2K survival shelters), Lori, myself, and about forty crew members gathered at Kunyak’s mansion to count down till midnight.

Soon the party was in full swing, with all kinds of dancing, romancing, and drinking.  Since I didn’t care to do any of these things, I ended up in a back bedroom, watching a broadcast of the celebrations in La Paz, Caracas, and Halifax.  I was lonely.  This was the big new years, the once in a thousand years celebration, and here I was, alone.  No date, no chance of romance, not even a kiss at midnight.  

There was a tap at the door.  Patrick walked in.  He was wearing wet swim trunks and had a towel wrapped around his shoulders.  I had never realized how muscular he was.

“Hey Kim.  You ought to go for a swim.  The water’s great.”

“Sorry, Patrick.  Um, I don’t exactly fit in a swimsuit.”

“Oh, er, right.  Sorry.  I keep forgetting.”  

“So do a lot of people.  My family included.”

Patrick shut the door and sat down next to me.  “So why are you back here all alone?”

“I guess I’m a little depressed.  It’s new years and I’m alone.  I can’t meet a girl like this, and I’m not interested in meeting a guy.  I’m just stuck between two worlds and I’m beginning to realize just how long a year is.”

Patrick patted my shoulder.  Ever since I started being Kim, I became aware of how guys would use any excuse to touch a woman.  I couldn’t help thinking that even Patrick’s friendly pat was an excuse to make physical contact with me.  I sighed.

There was a hubbub from the main room of the house.  I realized that the final countdown to midnight had begun.

“Patrick, you better join everyone or you’ll miss the big moment.”

“Are you going?”

“No.  I don’t feel like it.”

“Can I stay with you?”

“If you like.”  I could hear the other partygoers chanting TEN, NINE, EIGHT… Patrick touched my cheek.

“Happy new  years, Kim.”  SEVEN, SIX, FIVE

“Happy new years, Patrick.”  FOUR, THREE, TWO…  Patrick moved in to kiss me.

“Patrick, no!”

ONE!  Suddenly, all the electricity in the house went off and didn’t come back on.  We found out later that it was the world of a prankster who had snuck down to the fuse box to give everyone a Y2K scare.  He screwed something up and couldn’t get the power back on immediately.

We were in a windowless room and the door was shut.  It was pitch black.  Patrick gently took my face in his hands and pulled me towards him.

I don’t know why I didn’t resist.  ‘It’s new years,’ I told myself.  ‘Out of all the girls here, he chose to be with me.  What’s the harm of one little kiss?’

His lips pressed to mind.  Soft, yet forcefully.  ‘We’ve kissed before, why should this be all that different?’  His arms wrapped around my waist.  ‘I’m going to have to tell him to stop soon.  Very soon.’

I laid my hands on his bare, powerful chest.  His tongue probed my lips.  We began to breathe harder.  Suddenly, we were startled by the flash of the lights going back on.  And there I sat, on the bed, making out with a half naked man.

“I have to go!” I said, as I darted from the room.

(continued)