Dressed For My Brother's Teacher - Part 2

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As we were leaving, I said to Mark, "Oh, by the way, I believe I owe you a twirl."

I twirled for him, and he was entranced. That full skirt could twirl its way into another time zone.

"You are so beautiful and elegant," he said.

"Thanks, honey," I said. The endearment was out of my mouth before I even realized what I was saying. I heard George laughing a little, but I was too embarrassed to even look in his direction. We got out of there as quickly as possible.

We had dinner, and afterward, he took my hand and led me out onto the dance floor. He took me in his arms, and we began to slow-dance. It happens that I'm a good dancer, and even though I'd never danced backward with a man before, I was able to keep up with him pretty well. I was a little shocked when he grabbed my rump and pulled me closer to him, but I guess it could've been worse.

As he held me in his arms, he said, "You dance divinely. I swear you're the perfect woman."

"Not quite."

"I love you in that dress."

"Thank you. I've never known a man who was so particular about which dress I wore. Sometimes I wonder if you're dating me or my dresses."

"I'm dating you. And your exquisite taste in fashion is a big part of who you are. By the way, did you ever resolve that matter with your son? That problem with Dana wearing your dresses?"

"Oh, that was just Georgie being a brat. Dana doesn't wear dresses. And even if he did, it wouldn't matter, would it?"

"Well, you really shouldn't let your son wear dresses, Caitlin."

"Why not? You don't seem to mind it when I wear a cute dress."

"You're a woman."

"So? Just because I'm the woman, why does that mean that I have to wear the dress and walk around in high heels all night? On our next date, maybe you should wear a dress and I can wear comfortable clothes."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're the one who looks beautiful in a dress."

"Oh, so if Dana looked pretty in a dress, that would make it OK, then?"

"I very much doubt that Dana has pretty legs like yours."

"Oh, I think you'd find there's not that much difference between us."

And suddenly the band struck up a golden oldie, which was "Rock Around The Clock." Every couple on the dance floor separated, including us, and we began to dance wildly. I sang along with the chorus.

The only time I can honestly say I enjoyed wearing a dress was when I was out there on the dance floor, with my full skirt swishing around, tickling my legs.

I'll bet that even women who hate wearing dresses can't deny how wonderful it is to be dancing in one.

When it was over, he hugged me and said, "Did I mention that you're an incredible dancer?"

"It's the dress," I said. "I barely have to dance at all. My dress does most of the dancing for me."

When we got outside, it was pouring down rain.

"I'm going to get my dress all wet," I moaned.

"Don't be ridiculous. Wait right here," he said and dashed out into the rain to get the car.

Another woman, or anyway another person in a dress, was standing next to me, waiting for her husband to drive up.

"It's nice being a woman, isn't it?" she said to me.

"Tonight, it is. Staying dry, and all."

"I love your dress."

"Thanks. I like yours," I said, though she was wearing some horrible brown frock that I would never be seen dead in.

Mark drove up and hopped out of the car with an umbrella. He escorted me to the car and held the door for me, and I got in the car without getting so much as a drop of water on my nylons.

By the time we got home, it had stopped raining. Mark got out and walked me to the back door.

"Good night," I said and headed inside.

"Wait a minute, Caitlin. Don't go so soon."

"Was there something else?"

I turned and came back to him.

"You look so yummy in that beautiful dress," he said. "You look good enough to eat."

"Thank you," I said. I didn't notice that he was putting his arms around me.

"Just a little taste," he said.

The next thing I knew, he pulled me close and kissed me right on the lips! I was shocked! I pulled myself out of his arms and pushed him away!

"Caitlin, this is our third date!" he said.

I rushed into the house and ran to the bathroom sink, but I tripped and fell to the ground, my skirt flipping up. I felt like I could vomit. I stayed on the ground as the feelings of nausea swept over me.

George wasn't anywhere nearby. Thank heaven he hadn't seen that! I could just imagine what he would say.

Damn it! My first kiss ever, and it had to be with a man! How horrible! As long as it was just some innocent flirting and kidding around in a dress, I could pretend that I wasn't doing anything gay, but how could I tell myself that now?

I didn't throw up, but I didn't feel very well. I went to George's bedroom.

"Hi there, Mommy! You look so pretty in your cute little red dress!"

"George, I've had it. I can't do this anymore."

"Is that so?"

"I mean it. No more wearing dresses, no more nylons and lipstick, and no more walking around in high heels. I'm not dressing like a woman anymore, and I'm not dating your teacher."

"Do you remember that picture I took of you, Mommy, on your first date? That picture is out on the net, on a family photo website. It doesn't have your name, so no one can get there by searching, but all I have to do is tell someone at school where it is, and the next thing you know, there are emails and downloads and printouts, and everyone in your school knows all about it. And if you try to tell them that I paid you to do it, well, I don't remember that."

"George, why would you do this to me? What did I ever do to you?"

"Nothing. But you're going to keep wearing a pretty dress and dating my teacher, long enough for me to get through the sixth grade. Hey, look at the bright side. You've been wearing pants all your life, and where has it gotten you? You've never even had a date. As soon as you slip on a cute dress, you're the most popular girl in town. You should go to school in a dress. I bet the captain of the football team would go out with you."

"George, this can't work. Someone's going to find out about it."

"Maybe. But is it going to be just Mom who finds out, or would you rather the whole school found out? You decide."

I went to Mom's bedroom and slipped out of the dress I was wearing. I was so angry I felt like ripping it off, but that wouldn't have solved anything.

I had a nightmare. I was back in the red dress, lying on the floor, my slip showing again, my mother standing over me, saying, "What the hell are you doing, wearing my dresses, going around kissing men?"

"I'm sorry, Mom! I'm sorry!"

And there was my father, dead four years, but there he was!

"Take off that dress, you little faggot! Take it off! No son of mine goes around dressing like a woman and kissing men!"

"I'm sorry!"

I woke up bathed in sweat.

We had another date for Friday night. I decided that I just wasn't going to kiss Mr. Johnson, was all. I'd just pretend that nothing happened, and if he tried to kiss me again, I'd stop him and explain that it was something I didn't feel comfortable with. I picked out a pretty peach-colored dress to wear.

I was determined to pretend that everything was exactly the same as our previous dates, so when Mark came to pick me up, I came out and said, "Like my dress?" I asked.

"You look lovely," he said, without much enthusiasm.

"And of course, we can't get the date underway without taking care of this," I said and twirled for him.

"George, could you leave us alone for a minute?" said Mark. George went into the next room, but I could see that he was still peeking at us.

Mark said, "Listen, Caitlin, why don't we just forget about going out anymore? I know you don't want to go out with me."

"Why would you think that?"

"Look, Caitlin, I don't know if you thought we were going to be just friends or something, but I can't be just friends with you. I saw how you reacted when I tried to kiss you."

"You just took me by surprise is all."

"Caitlin, that was not the reaction of a woman taken by surprise. Look, why don't I just leave?"

"Is George going to flunk the sixth grade?"

"He'll get the grade he deserves."

"In other words, yes."

"In other words, probably. Goodbye, Caitlin."

"Mark, wait." I came closer. I knew what I had to do, though it made me sick to think about it. And the worst part was that George would see me doing it.

"Caitlin, let's not---"

"Come here, you," I said. I leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

I could feel the bile rising in my throat, but I choked it down and kept kissing him. He would have to be the one to stop, not me.

Finally, he pulled away from me. He smiled at me, breathing hard.

I smiled and tried to look like I'd enjoyed it.

"Now, can we go to dinner?"

"Yes," he said.

When the date was over, he walked me to the door, as usual. He put his arms around me.

"I could just hold you forever," he said.

"Oh, honey, you're so sweet!" I said, trying to sound like I meant it. He pulled me toward him, and once again it was time for me to submit to his horrible kisses. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend that I was kissing a girl. I tried to pretend that the lipstick I felt on my lips was hers and not mine, that the bra pressing against my chest was hers and not mine. But with all the imagination in the world, I couldn't pretend that I was wearing pants. I felt his hands all over me, caressing my back, touching my skirt, fondling my rear end. I tried not to shudder.

"See you Monday," he said when it was over.

And when I got inside, George was waiting for me. He started making kissing noises at me.

"Did you have fun kissing your boyfriend, Mommy?"

"Shut up! You heard what he said! If I didn't kiss him, it would all be over!"

"And then you wouldn't get to wear pretty dresses anymore and kiss your boyfriend."

"Shut up! You think I liked kissing him?"

"You loved it! And you love being a woman! You love wearing dresses! And you love Mr. Johnson! You're going to marry him!"

"I am not!"

"You love him! You love him!"

"Do you want me to stop wearing dresses right now? Because I'll do it! And you can just flunk the sixth grade and go to work for Burger King, for all I care!"

"You love dressing like a woman, and you love kissing men!"

I grabbed him and threw him on the floor. He jumped to his feet and pushed me right over.

"You can't fight! You're a girl! Girls don't know how to fight! You might get a run in your nylons!"

""Shut up! The only reason you knocked me down is these stupid high heels!"

I tried to get up, and he reached down grabbed my skirt, and flipped it up.

"Knock it off! Get your hands off my dress!"

"Look at the pretty girl with her slip showing!" he chanted. "Look at the pretty girl showing off her new pantyhose!"

"Shut up! The only reason I wear pantyhose is because you made me do it!"

I fixed my skirt so my slip wasn't showing, but every time I tried to get up, that little creep would flip my skirt up again and push me back down.

"Stop it! If you rip my dress, you're going to be in a lot of trouble."

As I tried to scramble to my feet, he kept trying to pull up my skirt, and I kept pushing him away.

"You fight like a girl!" he said. "You wear dresses like a girl, and you fight like a girl!"

He started trying to pull up my slip.

"Let go of my slip, you little brat!" I yelled.

I finally managed to get to my feet. I pushed him down smoothed down my slip and fixed my skirt. Before he could get up, I jumped on top of him and held him down.

"Going to kiss me?"

"Listen," I said, lying on top of him in my peach-colored dress, holding his hands down, "I'm not wearing any more dresses unless you promise to stop making fun of me."

"Oh, yeah? What are you going to do, beat me up? Oh, I'm so scared of you in your pretty dress! You try to hit me, I'll pull up your skirt again."

"I mean it! I'm not wearing a dress anymore unless you quit making fun of me."

"Listen, girlie, when I say you put on a dress, you put on a dress."

I got up and smoothed out my skirt.

"We'll see about that." I went into Mom's bedroom and slipped out of the dress I was wearing.

That night I had another nightmare. I dreamed I was playing baseball with my friends, playing first base, standing there crouching forward with my hands on my knees, ready to go into action, when I heard, "Hey, look at Dana! Look at Dana!"

I had no idea what they were talking about, so I just glanced at them in a quizzical and mildly annoyed manner.

And then I felt my hands on my knees. I looked down at myself. Oh, no! What was I doing in a dress? I had put on a dress to play baseball! I must've gotten confused!

And all my friends came running in from all over the field. They surrounded me.

"Look at Dana! Dana's wearing dresses! Dan is a girl!"

"I am not!" I yelled. "I just got confused is all!"

"Dana wears a dress! Dana's a big fag!"

"I am not! Just 'cause I'm wearing a dress doesn't mean I'm a fag!"

All my friends surrounded me and started pushing me back and forth, laughing at me, pulling at my skirt.

"Stop it!" I yelled. Then I felt the dress rip with a sickening sound. How could I explain this to Mom? They knocked me down, and I got a run in my nylons.

Then I heard a voice say, "Stop that! Leave my girlfriend alone!"

It was Mr. Johnson. He walked right up to me, pulled me to my feet, grabbed me, and started kissing me in front of everyone! They all laughed and kept calling me a fag, and I kept yelling at him to stop kissing me!

"They tore your pretty dress, Caitlin!"

"I'm not Caitlin! I'm not even a woman! I'm a boy! Let me go!"

"Nonsense. No boy has pretty legs like yours."

He kept kissing me, touching me, and fondling me in front of everyone! I kept trying to struggle out of his grasp, but he wouldn't let go! And the laughter of my friends kept assaulting my ears.

I woke up, clutching the sheets and breathing heavily. What was I going to do? I couldn't keep dressing like a woman, but I couldn't stop, either, or all my friends would find out. I made up my mind that at least George couldn't go on making fun of me for something that he was making me do himself. He had to give me that much.

Monday came, and when Mom left, I just sat around reading a book. George came into my room.

"What are you doing sitting around?" he asked. "Get ready for your date!"

I said nothing.

"Aren't you putting on a dress or not?" said George. "Mr. Johnson is coming over soon."

"Why would I put on a dress? I'm a boy. Boys don't wear dresses."

"Come on, quit kidding around. Go pick out a dress for your date."

I ignored him.

He left and returned with a pretty floral dress.

"How about his?" he said.

"What about it?"

He tried to drape it over my body.

"Get that away from me," I said.

"Come on. Put on your dress."

"Leave me alone."

"What are you going to do when Mr. Johnson gets here?"

"I'm going to tell him the truth."

"You're going to get in so much trouble. Your whole school is going to find out about you and your boyfriend."

"I don't care. I can't take the way you treat me. I'm the one who has to wear dresses and lipstick and nylons, and I'm the one who has to kiss a man. You can at least stop making fun of me."

"What do you want me to do? Do you want me to say I'm sorry? OK, I'm sorry."

"You have to promise."

"Fine, I promise I won't make fun of you anymore."

"Or laugh."

"I promise I won't make fun of you or laugh at you."

"And one other little thing. I want my money."

"What money?"

"You know what money. The money you promised me."

He ran into his bedroom and came back with a fistful of fives, tens, and singles.

"I spent some of it, but there's at least two hundred dollars there."

I counted it. Two hundred and six. That'll do.

"Now will you put on a dress?"

So I got up and went into my bedroom to hide the money, and then I went into Mom's bedroom to put on some lingerie and the pretty floral dress. I had some trouble with the zipper. I came out and asked George to zip me up, which he did without comment. I went back inside to check out my appearance. It wasn't until then that I realized how tight it was.

I went to George's bedroom. He was playing a video game.

"George, unzip me, will you?"

"Why? I just zipped you up."

"Mark won't like me in this dress. It's too tight. Unzip me."

"Unzip yourself."

"I can't reach. Come on, you promised."

"I promised I wouldn't make fun of you. I never said I'd be your servant and help you try on twenty different dresses till you found the right one."

"Come on."

"Leave me alone. I'm busy."

I tried some more to unzip myself, but my dress was too tight. Oh well, I guess I was trapped until George released me at the end of the night. Trapped in a dress. What else is new?

It was just about time for Mr. Johnson to pick me up, so I sat in the living room waiting for him. I saw a car coming up our driveway, and out of curiosity, I looked out the window.

Oh my gosh!

I ran into the kitchen, where my brother was grabbing something to eat.

"It's Mom!" I yelled.

"Oh, crap!"

"I've got to get out of this dress! You head off Mark. Tell him I'm sick! Tell him I'm contagious! He can't visit me!"

I ran upstairs, just barely ahead of my mother coming in the door. I ran upstairs into my bedroom and started to take off the dress I was wearing.

I could hear Mom coming up the stairs, and I realized I might've made a huge mistake! There was no lock on my door! I should've gone to the bathroom! If she came into my room right now, I would be dead!

I couldn't reach the damn zipper! George had zipped me up, and now I couldn't get out of this damn dress! I should've got him to unzip me!

Finally I reached, for the zipper and started to peel off the dress. My heart was beating so fast I could barely breathe! Mom, please don't come in here! Please don't come in here! I never wanted to wear your dresses; it was George! He made me!

She went past my bedroom to her own room, but I was still a long way from being safe. Damn it, why did George pick out such a tight dress?

For a second I had the idea that this was just another crazy nightmare, but I knew it wasn't.

Finally I got ou,t of the dress, and the, and the bnd girdle and pantyhose and shoes and ever,ything else I was wearing, and threw them in my closet. I ripped off the wig and threw it on top of everything else, and I grabbed a bathrobe. I couldn't just go walking around the house naked.

I had to take off all this damn makeup. I closed my closet door and peeked out into the hallway. Mom was still in her bedroom. I raced to the bathroom, just as Mom came out into the hallway!

I hoped she hadn't gotten a good look at me. I locked the bathroom door. My heart was racing. I went to the sink. I took off the false eyelashes and put them back in their little plastic case in the medicine cabinet, then I started to soap up my face and scrubbedscrubazy.

"Dana, I need to run a bath. Will you be out soon?"

"I'll be out in a minute, Mom!" I said, trying not to sound as panicked as I was. "What are you doing home?"

"I wasn't feeling well. They sent me home. Hurry up, dear, I have a chill."

Finally, I got it all off. I dried my face and went to the door and opened it.

"Why are you in a bathrobe, dear?"

"I feel sick, Mom." She put a hand on my forehead.

"You're fine," she said. I went back to my bedroom, and she followed me. I was glad I remembered to shut my closet door.

"Who is Georgie talking to?" she said, looking out the window at my brother trying to head off Mr. Johnson, talking to him while he was still in his car.

"I don't know," I said. "Someone needs directions or something, I guess."

"I told him to stay away from strangers. Someone could just grab him and pull him into a car, and we'd never see him again."

"What a tragedy that would be," I said.

"Now, Dana, don't talk like that," she said, but she was laughing a little bit as she said it.

Mom took a bath, and while she was in the tub, I went into her bedroom hung her dress, and replied aced her high heels. I put her wig back where it was and threw all the lingerie down the dirty clothes chute.

She went right to bed, and I was so nervous it took me the rest of the evening to calm down.