After changing, we got into my aunt’s car, with the dress and petticoat hanging from a hook on the back door; I got in the back of the car, Ginny on one side of me and Sheila on the other. My aunt was driving and her friend was on the passenger side. We went to my aunt’s house and Sheila brought me down to the basement with Ginny and said, “I’ll get some refreshments” and left.
“You’ve been a great sport about this,” said Ginny and she put her arms around me and pressed herself against me. “You deserve a little reward. “I can tell you want to kiss me back so don’t be shy. Sheila will take her time.” I did start to kiss her back very tenderly. “Wow, you’re not only handsome, but you really know how to kiss.”
Holding up a bag, she said, “In case you were wondering, your nylons, panties, bra and garter belt are in here. The amazing thing to me is that, even all dolled up in that stuff, you still looked like a handsome boy. You looked amazing.”
Anyway, on Friday night, we went down to the town playhouse and went through the dress rehearsal. The girl, Alice, who pulled up my skirt was about 15 and very pretty. For some strange reason the director had us do the skirt-lifting scene about five times. There was a lot of giggling. After the rehearsal, Alice came over to me, put her arms around me kissed me and whispered, “I really enjoyed pulling your skirt up. You have got a great butt.” I was speechless.
Then came the big night. In the first scene, dressed as a boy, I walk on stage; walk over to a fireplace; take one of the pictures on the mantel; look at it; put it back; turn around and walk off the stage on the other side. All the while other characters on stage are talking. I still have no idea about the plot. Did I lose a bet? Am I being punished? I have no idea.
In my big scene, I walk on stage, turning briefly to the audience so they can recognize me from the prior scene. I am not wearing a wig or makeup. Alice slips in behind me and I feel my skirt and petticoat being lifted way over my waist. The feeling was electric, and I think that the audience felt it. There was murmurings, giggling, gasps, deep intakes of breath and other human sounds that don’t have names. When the scene was over, I ran to the dressing room and got changed as quickly as possible. There was thunderous applause when the play was over and the director told us all to get back on stage for a curtain call. Alice came over to me and said, “You should have kept the dress on for the curtain call.”
I responded, “Yeah, so you could pull my skirt up again.”
With a mischievous grin on her face, she said, “Absolutely. You were the highlight of the show, and I am sure the audience would have appreciated another peek at your petticoat and panties.”
My aunt, Sheila, Denise and I went out for pizza afterwards. They were all still very excited. “You were great,” my aunt said.
“The audience went crazy when Alice pulled your skirt up,” said Sheila.
Denise said, “That petticoat was to die for, and those panties you were wearing were beautiful, too. You looked terrific in them.”
I was drained and when we got to my aunt’s house, I crashed and went right to sleep.
The next morning, my aunt’s friend called. My aunt was smiling as she listened, so I assumed that the reviews were good. When my aunt got off the phone, she excitedly told us that the critics loved it and that one producer wants to have it open off-Broadway.
In one review, the critic said, “The look on the boy’s face when the girl lifts his skirt is priceless and worth the cost of admission.”
My aunt then said, “There’s only one catch. The producer insists that he will only produce the play if you are in the cast.”
