Next morning I woke at my usual time, then remembered what Mom had said and
rolled over to go back to sleep again.  But a few minutes later Mom knocked on
the door and came in when I didn't respond.  She sat down on the end of the bed
and shook my leg under the covers.

"Just because you don't have to go to school doesn't mean you don't have other
things to do," she smiled.

I tried to squash the pillow down over my head, as though I wanted to go back to
sleep, but she pulled the sheets back and slapped me on the ass. "Up!" she
commanded before she left the room.  I got up and went to the bathroom to shower.
 When I came back I saw she'd laid out some more clothes for me on the bed.  I
looked at the black skirt.  Somehow I really felt like wearing a pair of jeans
today.  Maybe I was getting tired of the experiment?  I put on the skirt anyway.

My hair was more difficult to do anything with.  It was a bit flat on one side,
and looked as though I'd slept on it strangely.  I tried to brush it out, but
that seemed to take out the curls that had remained from when Marcia had done it.
 Eventually I gave up, and figured I'd ask Mom to help me with it, so I tied it
up behind my head.  Strangely, even without make-up, I still looked pretty
girlish.  I stopped trying to figure that out and went downstairs.

Mom told me she had to go out for a while, but that there were all sorts of
things that needed doing around the house while she was gone. Inwardly I groaned,
but I knew it was only fair.  I usually helped out with most of the cleaning
around the house, and I hadn't been doing my fair share over the past few weeks,
so after she left I set to work.  I had the house looking pretty great by the
time Mom came back.

"Time to go shopping", she said, as soon as she'd come through the door. I was
puzzled.  Wasn't that what she'd been doing?  She got me to go upstairs and put
on some mascara, then took my hair out and re-brushed it before putting it back
in a headband instead of the ponytail I'd been wearing it in.  Then we set out.

We went to a nearby Mall.  As we entered I saw two guys looking me over, and I
smiled to myself and ignored them.  I felt good about the way I looked, and I'd
stopped being afraid that people were gonna think I was a boy.  Well, at least
for the time being.  It seemed everyone was pretty clueless as far as that went.

Mom took me immediately to a store that I knew Marcia shopped at for a lot of her
casual stuff.  We browsed through a few racks of clothing until I realised she
was actually planning to buy me a few things.  I protested that we didn't have
the money, and she told me not to worry about that, that she'd been out taking
care of that earlier in the day. I protested a little more when she told me to go
try some stuff on, but I needn't have worried too much as all the cubicles in the
fitting room had little latches on them so no sales assistants could burst in
while I was dressing.  We left the store with a couple of pretty nice casual
blouses and tops, two casual skirts and a sweater.  I was worried about where
this money was coming from as we sat down to have lunch.  I was pretty hungry
because I'd skipped breakfast, so I was tempted to have a burger, but Mom saw the
look in my eyes and ordered salads for both of us.  She laughed when she saw my
slight disappointment, but told me that having to watch one's weight was one of
the things about being a girl that wasn't so easy.

I noticed the boys I'd seen as we entered again.  They were across the mall
pretending not to be looking.  I mentioned them to Mom and she stole a quick
glance.  "Kind of dorky", I said dismissively, and she laughed out loud.

"Well, aren't you the choosy one"  she smiled.  I blushed again, and we began
talking about how teenage boys could be so awkward and transparent in the way
they related to girls.  The conversation was kind of weird, really, because
neither of us even considered the whole time that I was a teenage boy.  I enjoyed
talking to Mom about it, though.  She told me about her dates before she met Dad,
and how dumb some of the guys had been, and how she probably settled on him
because he was the first guy who had been able to look her in the eyes instead of
the breasts.  I could kind of understand that, because Mom was pretty stacked,
but it was funny the way she talked about it.

We lingered over lunch.  It was a rare thing that we ever ate out.  I didn't know
what Mom had done about our money situation, but she obviously wasn't worried
about it and I decided not to ask so she could enjoy lunch.

Mom told me she had an interview for a job early next week.  I told her that was
great, though I was secretly worried that it would be like the others she'd
interviewed for and she'd be disappointed when they gave it to someone else.  Not
that Mom hadn't been great at her old job, but when you've been out of work for a
while maybe it's harder to convince people to hire you.  That's what Mom had said
a few weeks earlier, anyway.

While we were in the middle of talking about the job she was going for she
suddenly looked at her watch and said we had to get going.  I went off to the
ladies room while she took care of the cheque.  I felt a little self-conscious
about going in there on my own, but only for a second.

After I came out she bustled me off to the other end of the mall.  As we walked I
realised what was happening.  She was gonna take me to the salon to have my hair
cut!  I looked at her questioningly.  "Marcia did a good job," she said, "a very
good one considering, but I think you could do with a little more style if you're
going to keep doing this."

"But Mom, Marcia only cut my hair in the first place because we couldn't afford
to get it cut!"

"Well, now we can", she said firmly as we entered the salon.  "Besides, I made
appointments for both of us when I called.  If I'm going to make an impression at
this interview it's time I had mine done as well."

I tried to act as natural as I could as the girl in the salon greeted us. Surely
someone would notice I wasn't a girl in this kind of environment if I had my hair
all wet?  Mom squeezed my arm gently to reassure me.

A short time later I was sitting in a chair, under a wrap, as the stylist ran his
hands through my hair.  "You girls, you always wreck your hair so with the
bleach", he said in what I thought was an unutterably affected French accent.   I
had to keep from laughing.  He misunderstood my smile, and said "It's no laughing
matter, we will have to give you a treatment before we can do anything else". 
His name was Claude, though I didn't believe that for a moment.  Well, that was
okay, I thought.  My name wasn't really Jenny.  That made us about even.  And
obviously Claude was clueless about me pretending anything.  I relaxed and
enjoyed the fussing.

A long, long time later Mom and I emerged.  Mom had to wait a while for me,
because Claude decided to be very fussy over the way he restyled my hair,
complaining all the time that whoever had cut my hair last had been very sloppy. 
I decided I'd have to share this with Marcia, but only if I could imitate the way
Claude said it exactly.

Mom looked great, and she seemed to feel so much happier.  Her smile increased
when she saw me.  Claude had made my hair shorter, but had styled it so that it
flipped a little at the ends and looked more sophisticated than the way Marcia
had first done it.  It was more Alicia Silverstone than Tori Spelling (thank
goodness!).  It looked like money had been spent on it, and it shone fabulously.

Before we left the mall Mom took me to the lingerie department of one of the
bigger stores.  She successfully discouraged the sales assistant from helping us,
which I was relieved about, and we bought a couple of bras and a half dozen
panties.  I was beginning to get more than an inkling that Mom was secretly
enjoying my "experiment".

That night I cooked dinner, reasonably well I thought.  At least Mom was polite
enough to be appreciative.  As I was going to bed that night she gave me a hug
and told me she'd had a lovely day.

Tuesday passed fairly uneventfully.  Marcia came over in the afternoon. She was
pretty impressed by my hair, which I'd managed to do in the morning much more
successfully.  We talked about a lot of things, but eventually of course the
conversation came around to the fact that I still hadn't stopped being Jenny. 
Marcia wondered why my Mom was taking it all so well.

I told her truthfully that I had no idea, but that - from being in tears
originally - Mom had seemed to come around entirely to liking 'the experiment'.

"You seem to have adapted to it pretty well, too,"  Marcia remarked, one eyebrow
raised.

I was shocked.  Was she disapproving?  If she didn't like it, how come she'd
invited me to dinner later in the week?  My fear must have showed, because she
hugged me and told me that anything I wanted to do was cool with her.  "But we
should talk about it when you feel you can", she said.


I started to say something, and she cut me off.  "Not now, when you've had some
time to absorb all this.  Okay?"

I showed Marcia some of the clothes that Megan had given me, and she was knocked
out.  She tried a couple of the dresses on, too.  She looked great in the red
shantung, but she was a little big in the chest for the Calvin Klein, which
definitely looked better on me.  It felt funny, to think that, but it was true. 
Was I terribly vain?

We sat in my bedroom for a few more hours, talking about the things we always
talked about.  As she was about to leave to head home for dinner, she brought the
conversation around to the subject of Paul.  I admitted that we were going to see
one another the following night.  Marcia hugged me and told me to take it easy
with him.  I assured her I was going to be very, very careful.  As she was
leaving, I was already getting nervous about what I'd agreed to with Paul.  Part
of me wanted to see him again, but another part of me was convinced I was gonna
pay for all this eventually.

Wednesday evening rolled on.  By mid afternoon I was really nervous.  Mom didn't
help, I could tell that even though she seemed to like everything else she still
wasn't crazy about me going out with a boy, though I did notice a wry smile every
now and again as I worried aloud about what he was going to think of me and what
I'd wear and an endless supply of trivial matters.  Paul had said he'd pick me up
at 7.00, and I had chosen what I was going to wear by 3.00.  Then I put all that
away, and chose something else.  Then I put everything away again, and decided I
wasn't going.  I was on the verge of calling Paul when I realised I didn't have
his number.  That was stupid of me.  I rang Marcia to see whether she had it, and
of course she came straight over to talk me into going out.  It was 6.00 by the
time I agreed, and 6.30 by the time I was out of the shower.

I took off my robe as Marcia chose one of the skirts I'd bought on Monday and a
satiny dark blue blouse.  She turned around with the blouse and saw me standing
clad only in my bra and panties.  I could see her look me up and down, and I
immediately tried to cover myself with my hands.  I guess she'd noticed that
there wasn't any bulge in my panties.  In a rush of fear about what would happen
if Paul found out, I'd taped my penis back after the shower before I put on my
underwear.  It wasn't exactly comfortable, and I hoped desperately I wouldn't
have to go to the bathroom, but I felt safer.  Marcia was about to say something
after she looked at my crotch, but instead she thought better of it and smiled at
the way I was covering myself.

"Don't be embarrassed," she said.  "I saw you like this the other day, remember? 
I'd just forgotten how great you look."  She walked over and poked the jellied
pad that was substituting for my left breast.  "These look kind of real from a
distance.  Feel pretty real, too.  You're gonna do fine, don't worry".  Then she
kissed me again, lightly, on the lips. "You really are amazing, you know that?"
she whispered.

I dressed, and Marcia helped me with some light make-up.  "There", she said,
combing my hair and pinning it up on one side.  "You're gonna kill him."

"I just hope he won't kill me," I said nervously.  My confidence seemed to be
evaporating.

"Jenny", Marcia said, looking me squarely in the eye, "everything is gonna be
just fine.  Didn't you have a great time with him the other night?"  I admitted
that I had.  "Well obviously he had a great time with you, too, or else he
wouldn't have asked you out.  He thinks Jenny is great, and you seem to be very
good at being Jenny.  So just be Jenny tonight, okay?"

She was right.  The doorbell rang, and Marcia led me down the stairs. "I'll slip
out the back, okay?  Have a great time!"

Mom had answered the door, and was showing Paul into the living room as I entered
from the kitchen.  They both smiled as soon as they saw me, and I immediately
felt better.  Paul told my Mom where we were going, and promised to have me home
by midnight.  He was very polite, and he looked great, and I could see my Mom was
even a little impressed.  She gave me a light kiss as we were leaving, and
whispered softly "be good!"

"I didn't know that was your Mom on Saturday night", Paul said, as he opened the
door of the car for me.  "I would have been a lot more polite to her if I had
known."

"It's okay.  She had a headache then anyway, she wasn't really up to chat or
anything," I said.  Trying to slide into the seat gracefully, and being careful
not to wrinkle my skirt.  I was still a bit nervous, but as Paul got into the
driver's seat he smiled at me and I felt much better. Before he started the car
he leant across and turned my face toward his, and kissed me.  Any thoughts I had
about not wanting to be with him evaporated.  It was the lightest, most gentle
kiss I'd had so far, and a little buzz of electricity went through me.  Why did I
like this so much?

We went for pizza before the movie.  I let Paul do a lot of the talking over
dinner, while I picked at my one piece.  I could hear Marcia's voice in the back
of my head telling me to eat like a lady.

Paul was really interesting.  Most of the guys I knew at school seemed pretty
dorky to me, although I'm sure they thought I was the all time misfit champion of
the world.  But Paul was interested in other things besides sports and cars and
computer games.  I asked him how the internship trip had gone, and he said he
liked it a lot and thought they might accept him.  The work would be very menial.
just gofer stuff, but it was a highbrow magazine, about art and style, and he was
very impressed with some of the people they had writing for them.  He told me he
wanted to write for a magazine like that someday.

I just enjoyed hearing him speak.  We went on to the movie, which was a French
film about a woman who loses her husband and has to find a new life for herself. 
I'd never seen a subtitled movie before, but I was surprised how easy it was to
read the words and still see what was on the screen.  Paul put his arm around me
as the movie began, and I snuggled into him as much as I could considering the
arm of the seat got in the way.  Throughout the movie he stroked my shoulder and
neck lightly, which I loved.  If I hadn't been engrossed in the movie I probably
would have started purring.

Midway through the film I reflected that so far our date hadn't been anything
like what I'd expected.  From stories I'd heard at school, I knew that most guys
thought going to the movies was just an excuse to feel a girl up, the movie
didn't matter at all.  I wondered momentarily why Paul hadn't tried to touch my
breasts yet.  I could feel his hand resting on my shoulder, his fingers only
inches from my left breast as he caressed me gently, but he made no move to go
further.  I became involved in the movie again, and eventually found myself
crying, which was strange as I never cried a lot in movies before.  Paul looked
across at me when the credits were rolling and smiled at my teary face
illuminated in the glow from the projector.  Then he leant across and kissed me
again as the house lights were coming up.

After I'd been to the ladies room and repaired the damage to my make-up, the two
of us walked the length of Main Street and back, holding hands and talking.  The
moon was still bright, and it was a quiet night now that it was late.  We got
back to his car and he kissed me again before I got in.  I was getting better at
kissing, I thought.  Or he was doing something that was relaxing me more.  I
liked the feeling when he held me.  I liked being with him.  Everything felt so
... alive, so bright, so good.  I'd never felt so good about being with someone.

He drove me back home, and we sat in his car after he stopped the engine. He
reached over to me, and I to him, and we kissed some more.  I put my hand on his
leg, then I felt his hand go to my breast for a moment, and cup it lightly.  All
of a sudden I wanted my breasts to be real. I wanted him to like them, to like
me.

I caught myself, then.  What was I thinking?  I stiffened and he moved his hand
from my breast to my face before pulling away slightly.

"I ...  I have to go inside,"  I said abruptly.

"Just stay a few minutes longer," he said softly.  "I'll walk you to the door." 
He put his hand on my knee, and began stroking my leg, too. "You're beautiful. 
You know that," he whispered.

I blushed, though he probably couldn't see it.  We kissed again, and again, and I
felt his hand go to my breast once more.  He was about to slide his hand inside
my blouse when my hand inadvertently brushed past his crotch as I was moving it
from his leg.  I felt the hardness of his erection, and I started.  He sighed,
kissed me again, and then I decided it was time to get out of the car.

He walked me to the door and embraced me.  "I have to see some more of you", he
smiled.  "Before you go".

I smiled back, unsure what to say.

"How long will that be?"  he asked, with a strange look in his eyes like he was
talking about something else.

"Uh..." I was unsure what to invent, so I tried a diversion.  "Marcia's having a
dinner on Friday and she's invited me - would you like to take me?"

"Okay.  It's just next door, isn't it?"

He remembered from Saturday night.

"Yes", I said, "but it would be..."

"I can walk with you," he smiled.  "Again."

And with that he gave me a final kiss and hug, and walked back to his car.  I
opened the door to the house, and stood in the doorway until he drove off.

The light was on in Mom's bedroom as I walked past.  She called to me, softly.  I
went in, and saw that she had been reading, waiting up for me. I sat on the edge
of her bed, and then flung myself at her and burst into tears.  I was so
confused.  I had just had the best time of my life, nerve-wracking though parts
of it were.  I was deliriously happy, but part of me knew that everything wasn't
real, it was just crazy.  So I cried and cried.

Mom held me till I stopped crying.  Then she made me get undressed down to my
underwear and get into her bed.  She went to her dresser, came back with some
cleanser and removed my make-up, then held me again, still without saying
anything, until we both went to sleep.