Modern Bride, Part 2
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A week later I Mom drove Lori and I to the bridal convention.  I sat in the car silently, gnawing at my lower lip.  What had I agreed to do?  Going to a restaurant was one thing; but this convention something totally different.  I would be standing on a stage, inviting hundreds of people to scrutinize my every detail.  Had I gone insane?  How could I have been so stupid?

I thought back to the previous week.  After I had proven to myself that I could pass casual inspection as a woman, Lori had begun the final fittings of the gowns.  There was little I had to do those nights; just stand there and let Lori alter the gowns to fit my slightly larger frame.

Lori, after realizing I had begun to get over my embarrassment, began to tease me just a little bit.  Nothing viscous, just big sister ribbing.  “We’ll, after I’m done with your dress, it won’t fit me anymore.  I suppose I could save it for your, when you get married.  I could make an identical one for your wife, you could both walk down the aisle…”

“That’s enough Lori,” warned my mom.  I appreciated Mom standing up for me, but the joking really didn’t bother me.  Within a few days all of this would be over and at this point what did a couple of jabs matter?

Lori put down her needle and thread, and told me to take five.  She swiveled in her wheelchair and tried to massage her broken legs.  I felt sorry for her.  Besides having to have her brother model her bridal gowns, she had been stuck at home with a couple of plastered up limbs for almost a month.  She was normally someone who hated being stuck at home watching TV, but thanks to her injury and the loss of her car, she’d been almost a shut-in.  I had kept my complaints to a minimum to avoid adding to her stress.

I looked down at the half-completed dress I was wearing.  Since Lori had to build it around my girlish figure, I was wearing my padding and falsies as well.  I was a little disturbed to realize that I was almost getting used to the feeling.

I didn’t feel like taking off the dress only to have to put it on again later, so I hitched it up and swished my way to the kitchen for a snack.  Lori wheeled in after me.

“So Ken,” she asked, “what name should I call you by now?”

“Lori, you are beginning to try my patience…”

“No, I’m not trying to be funny.  When you model at the bridal show they’ll announce your name.  You probably wouldn’t want to be called ‘Ken.’”

“That’s a good point.  Well, I guess I’ll choose the obvious and go with ‘Kim.’”

“Okay, Kim it is.  Well, let’s say Kimberly.  It’s more model-like.”

“Whatever.  It’s not like I’ll be using it after next week.”

“Speaking of next week, what are we going to do about your hair?”

“My hair?”  I replied, taking a swig from the milk carton.  “I dunno.  I thought you’d do it for me.”

“I’m not too good at that.  Would you allow us to take you to a beauty parlor?”

“No.”

“C’mon, why not?”

“So I can go around with girl hair for a month?  I think not.”

“Hear me out.  Your gender will be less noticeable if you have a woman’s haircut.  You’re hair is long enough now to make it look really cute.  After the show we’ll take you home and I’ll give you a crew cut.  You’ve worn it that short before.  What do you say?”

Well, she had a point.  I guess if I were supposed to be a model then I should have convincing hair.  And after a quick buzz cut, no evidence would remain.  I assented.

“So where should we go?”  I asked.  I usually got my hair cut at the unisex salon where both Mom and Lori went, so there was out.

Lori began to think, when I had an idea.  I hunted down the old purse I had used the night we went out to eat and fished out the business card that read ‘Kelly McGwire, hairstyles for girls and women.’

“I suppose this place would be as good as any other.”

*

The evening before the bridal show, Mom drove me to the salon.  It was a small but tidy shop in a suburban mini-mall.  It seemed deserted, which pleased me.  We stepped inside.  I recognized Kelly, the woman whom I had met in the ladies room the previous week.

“Hello there!” she smiled at me.  “I’m glad you decided to stop by.  What can I do for you?”  I suddenly panicked, realizing I knew jack-all about women’s hairstyles.  Knowing that it would look ridiculous for a ‘girl’ my age to ask her mother to decide how her hair should be cut, I simply said “I’m in the mood for something new.  Could you suggest something?”

Kelly had me sit in one of the barber’s chairs and together we flipped through a book of photos of women’s haircuts.  I feigned interest; frankly I could have cared less about a haircut I’d have for one day.  But I had to make it look real.  Finally, we settled on a style that Kelly could create out of my medium-length, black hair.  It was poofier, with a bit of curl, I guess you’d call it a wave.  It would give my hair more bounce, and make it look much more feminine.  With false enthusiasm, I let her begin.

With a flick of her scissors, spray from a bottle, and about forty-five minutes of time, Kelly worked her magic.  Even I couldn’t help but be impressed.  Instead of the frizzled, chaotic hair that usually surrounded my head, there was a neatly styled, feminine ‘do.’  Combined with my made-up face, my women’s clothes, and my jewelry, I certainly looked like a teenage girl.  Surprisingly, I was happy about the change.  It wasn’t permanent; and it would help me blend in at the bridal show.  

Of course things were different now, as I sat in the car, parked in the convention center parking lot, and hyperventilated.  Mom had already gone inside, helping Lori roll into the building to get settled.  In a few minutes she’d be back to help me carry my dresses inside.  There was no going back now.  Lori had made a commitment to the show.  If her model cancelled at the last moment it would be a black mark against her career.  I was in for it now.  There was no quitting.

When Mom returned, I had my head between my knees, breathing rapidly.  “What’s wrong?” she asked, horrified.

“Just look at me and tell me what’s wrong!”  While it would have been silly for me to wear the bulky gown on the way to the show, I still had to dress as a woman on the way over.  That way no one would see me in male clothes before I had a chance to change.  Right now I was dressed in a pair of women’s jeans, a sleeveless shirt, and heels.  “I’m about to freak out, Mom.  Everyone is going to see me!”

Mom looked me in the eye.  “Ken, Lori’s worked hard for this day.  But more to the point, so have you.  You’ve sacrificed weeks working on getting ready for this, I really don’t think you want to blow everything because of a case of nerves.  Just calm down.  A few hours and it will all be over.  Do it for your sister.”

With a foreboding sense of finality we walked to the building.  Mom handed me my prodigious garment bags and wished me luck.  She’d be watching me from the audience with Lori.  From here on out I’d be on my own.

Staggering under the weight of the three dresses and accessories, I found the staff entrance.  I showed the guard at the door my pass and he motioned me down a service corridor.  So far so good, he didn’t look like he suspected a thing.  I followed the grimy passageway, looking for the dressing room the guard had indicated.

About half way to my destination, I saw a youthful-looking maintenance man going in the opposite direction.  He was handsome, about twenty years old, and was carrying what appeared to be a bag of garbage.  When he saw me, his face broke into a big smile.  He continued to smile and look me in the eye as I drew nearer.  I let out a gasp and hurried on.  As I passed him, I noticed that his smile had quickly turned to a hurt frown.

It wasn’t until I reached the dressing room that I fully realized what had happened.  That punk was flirting with me!  Not that I had any right to get mad, I’d been much more overt in some of my quests to get women to notice me before.  Still, that meant the guy found me cute, which was rather insulting to me.  Passing as a girl was one thing, but an attractive one?  That was a headache I didn’t need.

Of course, none of this was really his fault.  And he had seemed a little hurt when I had run past him.  Well, I had bigger fish to fry at the moment.  I reached the dressing room and knocked.

“May I help you?” asked the bespectacled, middle-age woman who answered the door.

“I…I’m Kimberly Woolsey,” I stammered, trying to keep my voice high.  “I’m here to model.”

“Let’s see,” she said, consulting her clipboard.  “Woolsey, Woolsey…ah, yes.  Step right in, miss.  You can get ready wherever you can find room.”

I stepped out of the hall and into a Penthouse letter.  There, in the spacious, brightly-lit dressing room, stood about a dozen models, all in various stages of undress.  Immediately to my right stood a shapely black woman pulling on her hose, without a stitch on above her waist.  Next to her stood a tall, freckled redhead in nothing but her bra and panties.  At the rear of the room a blonde was cramming her amble bosom into her tight, strapless gown.

I’d never so much as seen a real, naked breast before, now I was seeing several.  I wanted to just stand there and stare.  I wanted to drink in the sight with relish, imprint it on my mind.  I wanted to take out a video camera and record everything.

With more self-determination that I thought I had in me, I controlled my glances and made my way directly to a changing booth.  After closing the door, I began to breathe again.  So many naked women and yet I’d never be able to tell a soul.  Well, at least I’d always have the memory.

Time for work.  I unzipped the first bag and began to organize.  First, of course, came the girdle and the falsies.  I heaved a sigh of relief at the thought that this would be the absolute last day I’d have to wear the dumb things.  Then came what Lori had laughingly referred to as my trousseau.

The dress was an enormous, complicated thing.  Lori had shocked me by telling me that it would sell for well over a thousand dollars.  All I knew was that it was impossible to get into the thing alone, and yet I couldn’t very well ask anyone to help me with it.

Once I was finished I looked myself over in the wall mirror.  Despite my dislike of what I was wearing, I had to admit that Lori really knew what she was doing.  The gown was what I called ‘dark-white,’ if such a thing were possible.  It had a long, flowing train.  Its short sleeves reached half way down my biceps.  There were very few ruffles or ribbons, only some lace around the edges and the ends of the sleeves.  There was a large bow at my lower back.  The neckline was high, of course, but it plunged slightly in back, showing off my shoulder blades.

I glowered at the woman in the mirror as I pinned my lacy veil to my hair.  I hated to admit it, but I did look like a bride.  Maybe not the kind you see in the magazines, I certainly didn’t have the curves and grace of a supermodel, but I knew it my heart that if I were walking down the aisle to meet a groom, no one would think it odd.  They might even comment on how pretty I was.  

I winced, and clipped a dangling, pearl earring to each of my ears.  Then I slid the fake engagement ring Lori had given me on my left hand.  So much for clothes.

After triple checking every detail, I stepped out into the dressing room.  I was sorry to see that most of the women had finished dressing; there was nary a leg or breast in sight.  Wordlessly I found a seat at an empty makeup table and began applying my face.

“May I make a suggestion?” came a pleasant, feminine voice from beside me.  I turned to see the pretty black women I had noticed earlier in a much nakeder state.  She was about twenty-five, with deep chocolate-colored skin, long black hair, and a firm, statuesque figure.  She wore flowers in her hair and a strapless, lacy gown.  She was gorgeous.  I comforted myself my thinking how she’d be too old for me to ask out, even if I hadn’t been dressed like this.

“That color isn’t exactly right for your complexion,” she continued, nervously.  I guess she thought she might be intruding.  I nodded encouragingly, in hopes that she would continue to talk to me.  “Here,” she said, “may I?”  With that, she began reapplying my makeup.  I enjoyed the touch of her soft, manicured hands on my face.  I wondered if there was a possibility I could introduce myself as ‘Kim’s’ twin brother after the show.  Probably not.

Finally she was finished, and the results were impressive.  While my makeup would have done for day to day wear, I could tell, even with my limited knowledge of such things, that she had given me a makeover that would show up much better on stage.  I thanked her and introduced myself as Kim.

“I’m Shawna.  You look nervous, Kim.  Is this your first time working a bridal show?”

“It’s my first time working any show.  I’m not a model.  My sister’s a designer and needed someone to model at the last minute.  I volunteered.”

“Well that was sweet of you.”  Sweet?  If only she knew.

“It’s just that I’m not sure what I’m doing.  Any pointers?”

She smiled sweetly.  “You’ll do fine.  Look, you go on after me.  Just follow my lead and relax.  It’s loads of fun, maybe you’ll want to do it more after today.”  Fat chance of that!

“Places, everyone!”  called the woman with the clipboard.  I took my place behind Shawna.  She winked at me sweetly.  

It took a lot of control not to hyperventilate backstage.  All the other women looked calm; of course they were all doing this because it was their job.  And (one couldn’t help but assume) they were all women.  

Shawna glided out on stage.  She made it look so effortless.  Just a pause at the curtain while the announcer read her name and designer.  Then a few steps down the runway, smile, turn, and walk back, as the announcer read a description of her dress.  Simple as that.  The audience clapped as Shawna exited the stage.  She smiled at me and I was on.  I stepped past the curtain.

I was temporarily blinded by the lights.  When my vision cleared, I was staring at a sea of people.  Mostly young women, all with their eyes riveted on me.  I expected at any second for someone to scream “He’s a guy!  Look at the pervert in the wedding dress!”  Nothing of the sort happened.

“Kimberly is wearing a Lori Woolsey Original,”  began the announcer.  That was my cue.  I stepped forward.  

“Kimberly’s dress,” continued the announcer “is antique white (so that’s what it was called).  Her gown has a flowing train with embroidered lace and optional ribbon.”  I had reached the end of the walkway.  I flashed my best fake smile to the audience and twirled to let them see my back.

“The dress has a open back, for the bride who chooses to feature her shoulders.  Thank you Kimberly.”

And with that, I was finished.  The audience broke into applause.  I had done it!  It went off without a hitch!  True, I still had to do it two more times, but for the first time since I had agreed to be a bride, I wasn’t scared.  This was going to work.  Lori’s dresses would impress everyone, she’d get a contract, make a million dollars, and be happy.  Maybe someday we’d all get together and laugh at how the now famous Lori Woolsey had to have her brother model for her at her first show.

But now onto more pressing matters.  I had to quickly duck back into the dressing room and change into my next outfit.

I found Shawna already there, struggling into her new dress.  “Nice work, Kim,” she told me over her shoulder.  “Told you it wouldn’t be hard.  Jeez, do you think this thing could show of any more cleavage?”

I agreed that her dress was a bit revealing for a wedding, then grudgingly tore my eyes away.  “Zip me up?” she asked.  I helped her, despite the fact that my hand wanted to interpret the command ‘zip up’ as ‘unzip.’  Then it was my turn to change.

Lori’s second gown was an exercise in minimalism.  It was plain white, with wide shoulder straps and a high neckline.  There were no sleeves; my arms were completely bare.  Lori had told me that she wanted the gown to plunge lower to show off a bit of cleavage, but that obviously wasn’t possible.  The gown came with the tiniest of veils; it was little more than a slip of fabric I attached to my hair with a barrette.  A locket completed the outfit.

I was nominally braver when my turn came up again, but not by much.  I nearly tripped on my heels when the announcer made an innocent comment about my imaginary groom carrying me across the threshold on our wedding night.  Jeez, I was about getting sick of all this!

Lastly, I put on Lori’s magnum opus.  It was an opulent, extremely ornate gown, with ribbons, ruffles, and fake pearls.  It was sleeveless, but it came with gloves that went up to my elbows.  The veil was enormous; it came down past my butt.  Lori had had me wear this one last.  She wanted me to feel as comfortable as possible in her masterpiece.  Well, after I’ll I had been through, I’d certainly do my best.  As nasty as this experience was, I wouldn’t make it all for nothing by not trying my hardest.  As I left the dressing room I saw a bouquet of flowers someone had left.  Impulsively I grabbed them and walked down the catwalk with them.  I thought it added an aura of authenticity to my wedding garb.

Finally, it was all over.  I rushed back to the dressing room to get back into the women’s clothes I had arrived in.  Then I could find Lori and congratulate her on the show, speed home, and get into some male clothes.  Lori would buzz me nearly bald and we could put all of this behind us.

Shawna walked into the dressing room.  I groaned inwardly.  It would suck that I wouldn’t ever see her again, but there was no way around it.  It wouldn’t be worth impersonating Kim again to maintain the friendship, and I doubted she’d understand if I told her the truth.  After seeing her naked like that, she’d probably be quite angry.

“Kimberly, there you are.  C’mon, we have to get out to the convention floor.”

“Why?  The presentation’s over.”

“Yes, but that’s only part of the show.  Now we have to mill around with the customers and show our gowns off.  You know, so they can see them up close.”

“My sister never said anything about that!”  I said, annoyed.

“Well, this is going to be where her gowns get sold.  You need to do it, Kim.  Otherwise she probably won’t sell a thing.”

Blast and damnation!  After putting up with this farce, I find out there’s more to come!  Well, if this was how the business worked, I guess it would be futile to protest.  Faking interest, I asked Shawna which of my three gowns I should wear.  She suggested I use the one I was already wearing; it was her favorite.

Still clutching the bouquet, I followed Shawna out to the convention floor.  This actually turned out to be the most uncomfortable part of the day.  I wasn’t shielded by the bright lights and barriers of the catwalk; nor was I just another face in the crowd like I was at the restaurant.  Here dozens of people were milling around me, staring at me and every aspect of my apparel.  I was sure I was about to be found out.

I stood there for over an hour, with Shawna, several other brides, and to my surprise, several male models in tuxedos as well.  Many brides-to-be seemed enamored with Lori’s design.  I had been standing there for less than five minutes when a young woman, with her boyfriend in tow, approached me.

“Tom, wouldn’t this look absolutely darling?  I just love the lacework!  And that veil!  It’s to die for!”

“It looks wonderful, honey!” said Tom, with great enthusiasm and no conviction.  That scene was replayed several times: the gushing bride and the indifferent groom.  I chuckled inwardly at how one-sided wedding preparations are.

After what seemed like an eternity, the booths began to close and I finally began to think I’d be able to go home.  To stop being a bride and go back to being a teenage guy.  When Lori rolled herself over to me I was sure she was going to tell me to change my clothes so we can go.

It was not my lucky day.

“Ken, er Kim!  Come with me!  Quick!”

“What’s up?  What’s wrong?”  I was getting just a little sick of the fake falsetto I had affected.

“Lawrence Kunyak wants to see my dress up close!”

“Who’s…?”

“He only owns one of the biggest bridal companies in the U.S!  This is it!”

I steeled myself.  If he was as big a muck-a-muck as Lori made him out to be, then the least I could do was meet him.  He probably wanted to see the dress in more detail.

Trying to look my prettiest, I followed Lori over to the VIP table where Mr. Kunyak was sitting.  He looked to be about seventy, reminded me of every other CEO I had seen a picture of.  When he saw me, he smiled.

“Ah, Ms. Woolsey.   Thank you for coming out,” he bowed his head to me.  “You sister told me you were a little nervous.”

“Ah, well, I’m not a professional model.”

“I understand.  In fact, that’s the reason I wanted to see you.”

Lori’s face fell a bit.  She had assumed that her dress was the only reason he had wanted to see me.  “I beg your pardon?”  I asked, confused.

“Now don’t get me wrong,” continued the businessman, after seeing Lori’s worried look.  “I was sold on the dress the moment I saw it.”  He winked at Lori.  “I think I’ll be able to offer you a satisfactory offer for the rights to the design.”  Lori’s bruised face broke into an enormous grin.  

“But,” he said, turning back to me.  “I’d also like to speak to you as well.”

“What for?”  I asked, nervously wringing my flowers.

“Ms. Woolsely, do you have any idea how I turned a failing transmission repair shop into one of the largest and most successful bridal companies in the U.S?”  I honestly couldn’t think of an answer.

“I did it,” he went on, “because I know women.  A woman’s wedding day is the most important day of her life.  And when she prepares for that day, do you know what she’ll be thinking about?”

“How beautiful she’ll be?”  I ventured.

“Wrong.  She’ll be thinking how imperfect she is.”  I guess the puzzlement showed on my face.

“Ms. Woolsey, I can see that you are new to the fashion industry.  It’s an industry built on a woman’s insecurity.  And when a woman prepares for the day when she’ll be the center of attention, well, all she’ll be able to focus on will be her imperfections: perhaps she’s a little overweight, or very tall, or whatever.”

I was beginning to see where he was going with this.  “And what do the bridal magazines do?” asked the bridal expert.  “They bombard the young ladies with pictures of wafer-thin, anorexic, five-foot-eight sexpots.  This just makes the future wives all the more insecure.  It holds them to a standard they can’t hope to meet.”  He paused to take a sip of his gin and tonic.

“That’s why I was so impressed when I saw you.  You’re tall, you’re athletic, you’d make a perfect model.  You are beautiful, and yet you have the kind of beauty the average women feels she can achieve.  I hope I’m not offending you.”

I had no idea how I should feel.  Should I be happy that my beauty wasn’t ‘conventional,’ or should I be angry that he called me beautiful in the first place?  And how would a real woman react?  Too confused to reason, I simply thanked him.

Mr. Kunyak stretched back in his chair, and faced Lori and myself.  “So, I’d like to offer you a deal.  Offer you both a deal.”

“What sort of a deal?” asked Lori, chomping at the bit.

“Well, in addition to purchasing the dress designs, I’d like you to help me with a show I’ll be having in New York this summer.  I’d like you, Lori, to design two or three more gowns, and I’d like you, Kim, to model them.”

Nope, nothing doing.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Kunyak.  I appreciate the offer, but I’m no model and I only filled in this once.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.  It does pay handsomely.”

“I’m sure it does, but you can find someone else to model Lori’s designs.”

“I’m afraid not.  It’s an all or nothing offer.”

I felt bad for Lori, but I had done more than enough for her already.  “That’s too bad.  Thanks for the offer, but I’m not interested.”

Mr. Kunyak handed Lori a card.  “Well, I’ll be in touch about your payment for these dresses soon.  Thank you very much.”

*

Finally, FINALLY, we went home.  Mom drove, she couldn’t stop talking about what a success the show had been; how Lori had finally made it into the fashion industry.  I listened half-heartedly to mom’s descriptions of how this was only the beginning of Lori’s successes; all I could think about was getting out of this dress and trimming my hair.  I was unaware of how quiet Lori was being.

It was a relief to get home and change.  I wouldn’t let Mom rest a bit when she got home; as soon as I was back in my male clothes I insisted she give my hair a trim.  As my girlishly styled hair fell to the bathroom floor, I smiled to think how all this was behind me and I’d never have to dress like a girl again.

The next day Lori packed up to go home.  As she was leaving, she took me aside.  “Ken, thanks a lot for everything you did.  I know I promised not to mention it again, but you really saved me back there.  I have my first design contract, and it’s all thanks to you.”

“No,” I corrected, “it’s all thanks to you.  You designed the dress, all I did was be a coat hanger.”

“Well, Mr. Kunyak seemed to think of you as more.  You know, about the show in New York…”

“Lori…” I said, warningly.

“Look, it’ll only be for a week, and I was just thinking…”

“Well you can stop thinking.  Find another model, and that’s final.”

“I understand.  It’d be a lot to ask.  Well,” she smiled, sadly.  “See ya!”  Mom helped load her into the car and they sped off.

About a week later I got the call.  I was sitting at the kitchen table doing my homework when the phone rang.  Mom answered it.  “Yes?”  she said into the receiver.  “Um, I’ll check, just a minute.”  She seemed nervous.

“It’s that Kunyak guy,” she whispered to me.  “He wants to speak to Kim Woolsey!”

“Tell him I’m out!”

“Please, Ken.  This may be about Lori’s contract.  Just talk to him.”

Grumbling, I picked up the phone.  “This is Kim,”  I said in my feminine voice.

“Miss Woolsey!”  Kunyak boomed back, “Nice to hear from you!”

“Likewise,” I twittered.

“Listen, the reason I’m calling is my idiot assistant lost your sister’s number.  You were the only one I could contact.”  I quickly dictated Lori’s number for him.

“So,” he continued.  “Have you given any more thought to my job offer?”

“Yes, but I’m afraid it’s just not what I’m looking for.  I’m no model, you see.”

“Pity.  You know, the job pays $10,000 for a week’s work.”

I nearly choked.  “U.S. dollars?”  I stammered.  

“That’s right.  Are you sure I can’t change your mind?”

“Er, could I call you tomorrow?”

“Certainly.”

I hung up, than sat down.  Ten thousand dollars!  I’d never had more than five hundred in all my life!  That would pay for more than a year of college!  Dear God, what a windfall!

I related what Mr. Kunyak had told me to my mother.  She seemed stunned.  “Goodness, Ken, that is a lot of money.  And for only a week’s worth of work.”  It was obvious that she hoped I’d take the job.  

“But I’d have to dress like a woman for a week!  I mean a solid week, even when we weren’t shooting.”

“Yes, but wouldn’t it be worth it?  It’d be just like the last time, no one would know.”

I was already counting the money.  “I’ll call Mr. Kunyak tomorrow.  I guess I should tell Lori the good news.”

When I told Lori I would agree to model, she insisted I drive out and talk to her in person.  I found her in the living room of her apartment.  She was rolling back and forth in her wheelchair, as if she were pacing.

“This is big, Ken,” she said as I walked in the door.  “You don’t know how big.”

“Oh, I have some idea.” Like, maybe ten grand.

“No, I mean this sort of thing in the pinnacle of the fashion world.  Look.”  She handed me a magazine.

It was some sort of fashion trade journal.  I found the article she had indicated.  ‘Fashion Leaders Preparing for June Bridal Show.’  The article went on to proclaim how this show would be the bridal exposition of the year.  

“This is amazing.  The opportunity of a lifetime,” ranted Lori, almost to herself.

“Yeah, the opportunity of a lifetime,” I repeated, thinking of the cash.

“But Ken, I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Oh, I know it will be tougher than last time.”

“That’s an understatement.  Ken, I think I need to explain something to you.  Have a seat.”  I seated myself opposite her chair.

“If you agree to do this, you’ll be surrounded by the chief fashion executives of this country for a week.  A solid week.  For that entire week, you can’t let Ken out.  Not even to sleep.  For seven days you’d have to be Kim.”

“I kind of figured on that.  Don’t worry, I can keep up the ruse.”

“I know you’d be willing to do it, but could you pull it off?”

“How do you mean?”

“The local bridal show was one thing.  It was just a couple of hours and you barely had to talk to anyone.  This will be different.  You’ll be ‘performing’ without stop for days on end.  You won’t be able to make even a single mistake.”

I almost backed out then, but the thought of a cool ten Gs held my tongue.  “So what do you recommend?”

“When are you out of school?”

“Late May.”

“Let’s see, the show is in late June.  If you agree to do this, I’d want you to live as Kim for about three weeks before the show, to avoid any screw ups.”

“Three weeks?  No way!”

“Then I won’t agree.  I’m sorry Ken, but this is the big times.  If you get caught you’d be humiliated and I’d never work again.  I know you’ll be getting paid a lot for this; wouldn’t it be worth a month of living as Kimberly?”

I thought about it.  College would be expensive and $10,000 would go a long way towards defraying the costs.  A lot of people didn’t earn that much money in a year.  Couldn’t I sacrifice a month for financial security?

“Okay.  I’ll do it.  But I’m only doing this for the money, mind you, I have no aspirations to be a supermodel.”

Lori smiled.  “You have to be sure about this.  Once we tell Mr. Kunyak you agree, you won’t be able to back out.”

I gulped.  “I’m sure.”

“Great.  Since I’m sure you won’t want anyone you know to see you, I think it would be best if we moved to New York right after you graduate.  You can be Kim in private there, and when it’s all over, we’ll move back.”

The year wore on.  I graduated.  Soon it was time for me to move to New York with Lori.  Mom seemed nervous about the whole thing.  She didn’t think the plan was weird, per se.  Like me, she looked on it from a financial point of view.  Still, I could tell the thought of her son going to New York to participate in a bridal show made her uneasy.  But I had signed a contract, and there was no backing out now.

Lori, who had since had her casts removed and was already back to running two miles a day, had moved ahead of me.  I booked an economy flight to New York and she met me at the airport.  

Lori had rented a small, two-bedroom pad in the not-too-terribly-bad part of town. I tossed my suitcase on my bed to start unpacking, when my sister told me not to bother.

“What do you mean, don’t bother?”

“Look Ken.  I meant it when I said you’d have to spend this time as a woman.  All of this time.  For the next three weeks you are my sister.  Femininity has to become second nature or they’ll see through you in a second.”

“Lori, I think you are taking this  a little too far.”

“Ken, I’m not trying to do this to humiliate you.  Believe it or not, I’m trying to save you from humiliation.  I don’t want you to get caught.”

“Yeah, I guess that wouldn’t be good for your career, if people found out your bridal model was your brother.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m more worried about you.  You’re really sticking your neck out for me here, I’d hate myself if you ended up getting found out.  That’s why I’m going to insist on full time girlhood from here on out.”

“Lori…” I continued to whine.

“Ken, I guess I can’t force you to do this.  But believe me, it’s a choice between spending three weeks dressed like a girl with only your sister knowing or getting found out at the show.”

I grimaced.  “So what do I have to do?”

“For starters, no boy clothes.  Stick your suitcase in the closet, all you’ll need is your toothbrush.”

“So what am I supposed to wear?”

Lori showed me.  She had been shopping.  There everything was, still in the bags from the many women’s boutiques she had purchased them from:

Two dozen packs of colorful cotton panties.  
One pair of women’s sneakers.
Three pairs of women’s heels.
Six pairs of nylon hose.
Three pairs clip-on earrings.
Various chains, bracelets, and necklaces.
Six women’s sweaters (two completely sleeveless).
One basic skirt.
One mastectomy bra (a more realistic simulated female chest) size 36C.
Enough makeup, nail polish, and perfume to last me through the year.

I fingered the material nervously.  “You really expect me to use all this?”

“Yes, and constantly.  By the time of the exposition, being a woman has to be completely natural for you.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure thirty seconds after it’s over you’ll have forgotten all my training and hard work.  Now get dressed, we’re going to the mall.”

“The mall?”  I squeaked.  I had hoped to avoid publicity as much as possible.

“Yes.  I only got you what I knew would fit; we have a lot more shopping to do.  And from now on, I want you to talk like a girl.”

“Yes Lori,  I said in my best feminine voice and followed her into the bathroom.

“Take off your shirt, Kim, I want to see something.”

“What did you call me?”

“C’mon Kim.”

Sighing, I complied.  Lori tutted, and with a pair of tweezers picked out my half dozen chest hairs.  

“Hey, do you know how long it took me to grow those back?”  Lori shot me a warning glance, then instructed me to shower, and shave my legs and pits.  I didn’t object, only because I knew that the hair wouldn't take too long to grow back.  If anyone noticed afterwards I just say I had a case of heat rash and had to shave.

Soon I had finished.  Lori instructed me to open a package which she had left on top of the toilet tank.  “What is it?”

“Just open it.”

I examined the garment I found.  It was made of sturdy rubber and was shaped like a pair of panties.  “This can’t be what I think it is.”

“If you think it’s a device for hiding your penis, then you are right.”

“Where the hell did you find this?”

“From a catalog.  It was designed for female impersonators…”

“I don’t want to hear this!”  Grunting and groaning I forced myself into the thing.  It was uncomfortable, but not as painful as I had expected.  Looking at my reflection, all I could see was a small mound where my manhood had once been.  Embarrassed, I slipped on a pair of yellow panties.  Thank God Lori had spared me the lacy kind.  Next, I pulled on the hose.  I was becoming a bit of an expert in that department.  I then pulled on my skirt.  Half the battle was over.

I then picked up the padded bra.  The inserts were quite realistic.  They felt a lot like real breasts.  At least I assumed they did; I had never actually touched a pair.  Try as I could, I couldn’t get them on straight.  I finally had to call Lori in for help.

Standing behind me, she held the bra to my bare chest and helped me pull my arms through the straps.  Then she fastened me in back.  

“I look ridiculous.”

“Here, pull this sweater on.”

She handed me a yellow, sleeveless sweater and I pulled in on over my head.

“You know,” she said, “Kunyak was right.  You are rather pretty.  Don’t take that the wrong way, I mean, you look like a normal guy, but in a dress you have this female athlete look about you.  That’s popular these days.  I can see why Kunyak wanted you.”

“Lucky me.”

“C’mon, aren’t you the least bit flattered.”

“Nope.”

“Not even a tiny bit?  It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Well…. Jeez, I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this.  But I was a little proud of myself when he offered me so much money to model.  I know I should have been insulted, but after all that work I went through, well, I guess it was nice to be recognized.”  I glanced sideways at Lori, afraid that she would laugh at me, or even worse, act thrilled.

“I know how you must feel,” she said.  “You really did bust your ass to help me, and you sure were rewarded.  You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you are going to end up enjoying all this time as Kim.”

“Please.”

“No, I’m serious.  Haven’t you ever wanted to understand women more?”

“Of course.”

“Well, next month you’ll have insights into the feminine psyche that will serve you for years to come.  All your future dates will wonder how you got to be so empathetic, but only you’ll know why.”

In spite of myself, I was interested.  “Do you really think so?”

“Of course.  For starters, you’ll probably never rush a woman out of the bathroom again.  And you’ll be able to make semi-intelligent comments about their clothes and hair.  Subtle things that will drive the women wild.  Women want to be understood, and you’re getting a crash-course in understanding.”

“I wish I could share your optimism.”

“Look Kim.  I know how hard it is for you not to complain right now.  But just put it out of your head.  There’s no backing out now, but if you try to enjoy this, you might just find it’s not so bad.”

“I think you’re exaggerating, but if you promise not to make fun of me, I’ll at least try to have a good time.  Hell, New York should be a blast, skirts or no.”

“There’s the attitude!  Now let me make you up.”

“Er, no.  I probably should get the hang of this and I might as well start now.”

Lori smiled a lovely smile and then did something she hadn’t done for years: she leaned over and kissed me.  “Good for you, little sister.”

Finally, after about fifty false starts, my hair and makeup looked at least okay.  I clipped on some earrings and grabbed one of Lori’s purses.  Balancing on my heels, I looked myself over.

“What’s the verdict?”  I asked Lori.

“You tell me.”

“I guess I can stop kidding myself, I don’t really look like a drag queen.  I might even say…”

“Yes?”

“That I looked, well, kind of cute.”  I looked to Lori for conformation.  

“To say the least!  Well, let’s hit the town.”

It was hard to remember everything as we took off down the street.  How I was supposed to hold my head.  How I was supposed to walk.  Not to scratch my groin.  Lori elbowed me in my ribs.  “Relax, you’re doing great.”

Finally, we entered a mall and went into the department store.  I knew right away that I was in for an ordeal.  As a man I could simply grab a couple of shirts and a pair of jeans and I’d be done clothes shopping for the season.  Now that I was a ‘woman,’ things would be different.

Lori dressed me from the bottom up, which meant we started with the shoes.  It was hard to find shoes in my size (that was the area where Lori and I differed the most, size-wise) but I ended up leaving with a pair of attractive flats.  Lori tried to convince me to buy another pair of heels, but I held fast; I couldn’t imagine a more uncomfortable type of footwear.  I did however, buy some more socks and hose.

Next came the skirts.  That’s where Lori and I had the biggest debate.  I was more comfortable with the conservative, floor-length kind, while Lori kept trying to get me to go shorter and shorter.

“You have such lovely legs, Kim.  I don’t know why you won’t show them off.”

Since we were in public, I refused to mention the true state of things, not even in a whisper.  “I just don’t like short skirts.  What’s wrong with that?”

Much to my horror, Lori called the saleslady over.  She was a pretty, twentysomething blonde; I could have died.  “Don’t you think my sister would look good in this?” she asked, holding up a skirt that barely reached my knees.

“Oh, yes,” gushed the commissioned salesclerk.  “You have such athletic legs, do you work out?”

“A bit,” I admitted.  Not wishing to say more, I tried it on.

Lori and the salesclerk made me prance up and down in front of the mirror.  I had to admit, I did look good, but I felt almost naked in the tiny garment.  Finally, to avoid a protracted argument, I agreed to a couple of the shorter numbers.  I’d be dressed as a bride in a few weeks; I couldn’t exactly complain about looking like a sissy now.  I did, however, draw the line at the leather mini.

Next came the dresses and tops.  Since it was summer time, Lori took that as an excuse for me to show off as much flesh as possible.  Soon we had bags full of backless dresses, sleeveless blouses, and low-cut shirts.  

As we were standing in a jewelry shop picking out a necklace and bracelet for me, I asked Lori why she was spending so much money on me.

“Well, you’ll be surprised how much clothes you’ll end up needing in the next couple of weeks and it wouldn’t be fair for you to have to pay for it.”

“But it seems like such a waste.  No one will be wearing any of this next month.”

“Oh, you’re almost my size.  I’ll probably keep most of it.”

“That’s a relief.  It would have been rather awkward for me to try to dispose of it.”

The clerk was wrapping up my jewelry.  “Kim, I was just thinking about the gown you’re going to be wearing.”

“What about it?”

“We’ll, you’re going to be lovely in it, but I think you’d look even better if you wore earrings.”

“So I’ll wear earrings.  We still have those clip-on ones.”

“No dear.  I mean earrings for pierced ears.”

“Nothing doing.”

“C’mon Kim.  The holes will heal up by the end of the summer.  Lots of guys are wearing them these days.”

“Not me.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s too girlish.”

“Kim, you are standing there wearing a skirt, a woman’s sweater, and a bra, and you’re telling me you’re afraid of looking too girlish?”

I left the store with pierced ears.

Later that day afternoon we sat in the food court, sipping out our Diet Cokes.  I wanted to take off my shoes and rub my feet; they ached something terrible

“Feet bothering you?”  asked Lori.

“Yes!   How do women stand to wear these things?”

“Because they look good.  Women are expected to look their best, always.  You’ll realize that soon.”

“Well, I could use all the help I can get to look like a woman.  But if I were a real woman, I sure as hell wouldn’t wear these!”

We were interrupted when a masculine voice said “Hi ladies, mind if we join you?”

“Chuck!”  squeaked Lori, happily.  I regarded the pair of men that had just walked up.  Chuck was tall, blonde, and handsome, about Lori’s age.  I wondered if they were just friends, or were dating.

The guy standing next to Chuck looked a little younger, more like seventeen or eighteen.  He looked a lot like Chuck, I assumed they were related.  He seemed shier, a little less sure of himself than Chuck.

“This is my brother, Jason,” said Chuck, as they sat down.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Lori.  “This is my sister, Kim.  Kim, this is my friend Chuck.”  We shook hands all around.  I remembered at the last second to shake hands limply, like a woman.

Soon we were all chatting.  I found that Chuck and Lori had met at an art show the previous week.  They had never dated, but I got the impression Chuck was building up to it.

At first I was too petrified to talk much, but after a while, I began to relax.  Concentrating on my voice, I was soon enjoying everyone’s company.  Jason, who was my own age, was an interesting guy.  He was a high school senior who played varsity basketball.  He seemed shocked that I could talk intelligently about the sport and soon we were talking like old friends.

After a bit, Chuck said that they had a couple of things to and had to go.  “But hey,” he continued.  “we’re both free tonight.  Why don’t we all go see a movie?”

“We’d love to!” replied Lori.

I began to sweat.  That sounded a lot like a double date.  “Er, Lori?  Don’t we have that thing tonight?”

“What thing?”  she asked, with effected innocence.  

“You know, the thing we have to go to!”  If she didn’t go along with this I swore I would kill her.

“Oh, that thing!”  she finally said, much to my relief.  “Don’t worry, that’s not till tomorrow.”  Thanks, Lori.

I waited until we were back home before I blew up at her.  “Do you think this is funny?  Do you think this is some kind of joke?”

“Calm down.  We’re just some friends catching a flick.”

“Friends my ass!  You kind of like Chuck, right?”

“Hmmm, maybe,” she said, smiling.

“Well, then that’s a date.  And if you two are on a date, that means Jason and I are, as well.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Lori, I’m a guy.  If I were in his shoes, I’d sure think it was.  I’m going to cancel.”

“Why?  Just come to the theater.  It’s not like we’re going to an orgy or something.”

“I can’t believe we’re talking like this.  What am I supposed to do, make out with him?”

“Kim, have you ever been on a date with a woman, and she wouldn’t let you kiss her or even hold her hand?”

“Well, yes.”  Many times, actually.

“There you go.  He can’t do anything if you don’t let him.  You seemed to get along as friends.  Just keep it like that.  Friends.”

I glowered, but she had a point.  I’d just keep it strictly buddies.  If he tried to make a pass, I’d politely but firmly reject him.  If he pressed the issue, I’d tell him I just wanted to be friends.

“Now do you want to shower first, or should I?”

“I took a shower this morning.”

Lori put her hands on her hips.  “Kim, c’mon.  I know that for you this is just a day out with some friends, but you could try to make an effort.”

Lacking the energy to argue, I stumbled into the bathroom.  At least this way I’d know there’d be some hot water left.  I scrubbed myself clean with Lori’s girlie-smelling soap and stepped out of the shower.  I wrapped a towel around my waist and looked at myself in the mirror.  Amid the steam in the bathroom, my new earrings, and longish hair; it wasn’t hard to imagine that it really was a woman’s reflection staring back at me (at least from the shoulders up!).  Wiping the mirror clean, I pondered whether or not to wear makeup.

I was shocked when Lori suddenly burst in.  “Don’t mind me, Kim.  Just needed an aspirin.”  With that she was gone.

I was stunned.  I hadn’t locked the bathroom door because it never occurred to me that she’d come in like that.  I could have been naked for all she knew!  While we lived together we had always respected each other’s privacy.  What the hell had gotten into her?

Could it be that she was treating me like she would a sister?  My God, we were just pretending, but here she was, walking in on my shower as if I really was a fellow woman.  I made a mental note to lock the door from then on.

Thinking back to the problem at hand, I wondered if I could get away with no makeup.  If I wore makeup it would look like I was making an extra effort to impress Jason.  But if I didn’t, I’d look more masculine.  I decided to wear a little, just to be on the safe side.  After coloring my cheeks and putting a touch of red on my lips, I pulled on a robe and went to decide what to wear.

I searched through the bags of clothes we had purchased today until I found the least erotic outfit I could find.  It was more like a business suit: an ankle-length gray skirt, with black pumps, dark hose, a white blouse, and a gray jacket.  It looked more like something to wear to the office instead of a movie, and in the summer heat it was a little stifling.  Still, it made me look frigid, which was the look I was after.  As Lori showered I tried unsuccessfully to put my hair in a bun.  I couldn’t manage that so I settled on a simple ponytail.  

Lori came out of the bathroom dressed to the nines and looking like a million bucks.  “Kim,” she said in a disappointed way, “are you trying to look like a spinster or what?”

“Yes, I am.  I agreed to do this, don’t press me.”

At the appointed time, Lori drove us over to the theater.  “Don’t worry Kim.  It’s just a few friends going to a movie.”

Chuck and Jason were waiting for us in front of the box office.  They had both changed clothes and showered as well.  “You look nice,” Jason told me when I greeted him.  I could tell he meant it too; so much for my plan of turning him off with my clothes.

We took our seats in the dark; Lori and Chuck to my right, Jason to my left.  During the movie Chuck casually draped his arm around Lori’s shoulders.  Luckily for me, Jason wasn’t that bold.  Aside from an awkward and unsuccessful attempt to hold my hand, he kept to himself.

Finally, it was all over.  I still felt a little disgusted with myself; Jason had paid for my ticket and that was a date in my book.  Matters weren’t helped when Chuck gave Lori a more than friendly good night kiss.  I looked over a Jason, afraid he would attempt the same thing.  I could tell he was vacillating, wondering whether to go for it or not.  I defused the situation by firmly shaking his hand and thanking him for a nice evening.

As we drove home, I grilled Lori about Chuck.  “So what’s up with you and this guy?”

“Oh, I dunno.  He seems kind of sweet.  Maybe something will come of it.  So how about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and Jason.  Think you’ll go out again?”

“Lori, what in the hell are you talking about?”

“I was just wondering.  He seems to like you.”

“Lori, will you get a grip?  I know you want to treat me like a sister, but some things aren’t going to change!  Tonight was a one-time thing, and it will not happen again!  Understand?”

“Well, I just thought you might get bored and want someone to hang out with, besides me.”

“Lori, let’s forget for a moment about my objections.  How do you think he’d feel?  He thinks he dated a girl; it wouldn’t be fair for him to think that ‘Kim’ had a thing for him.  This is the end.”

Lori shrugged.  I was beginning to worry.  She certainly didn’t take long to start thinking of me as her sister.  Did she honestly think I would ever consider dating Jason?

(continued)