They drove on, heading down the shaded boulevard toward the academy. “I’m sure we’ll find your suitcase, but it will be so much of a shame; you look so pretty as a girl.”
Blushing, the boy lowered his eyes in embarrassment. “Really dear, you should have been born a girl; wearing pretty dresses is only half the fun.” The gates of the school came into view. “You’d better let me do all the talking, dear. We wouldn’t want you to give yourself away.”
Christopher froze in his seat. “Oh God,” he thought to himself, wishing that he could somehow become invisible. The large iron gate was shut, so Mary pulled up and stopped just in front and got out. Seeing a lone priest working in the garden, she called to him. The boy recognized him as Father Patrick, one of the older faculty members who was more or less retired now and spent most of his time tending the grounds.
“Father, I’m Mrs. Alexander and one of your students is staying with me over the holiday. It seems we left without his suitcase. Did you happen to come across it in the driveway last evening?”
“I’m afraid not; I was just up that way a little bit ago.”
“I brought my niece along with me in the car; would it be an inconvenience if we came in and looked for just a minute?”
Looking out to the car, the old priest smiled and waved to what appeared to him a pretty young girl. “Oh, I’m afraid that’s not allowed; the academy is cloistered to women.”
The boy couldn’t overhear the conversation, but noted the look of surprise on Father Patrick’s face.
“Well, is it possible you could ask one of the other fathers if they might have come across it?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Alexander, everyone else is away for the weekend now.”
Mary interrupted, “Oh, don’t worry then Father; I’m sorry we bothered you. I’m sure somehow we’ll make do. Happy Thanksgiving.”
Christopher noticed the woman smile as she turned and returned to the car, waving to the priest as he toddled away back to his gardening.
“Is something wrong? Won’t they let us look for it?” he asked her nervously.
“It seems it’s definitely against the rules to allow ladies inside the grounds,” and with a gleam in her eyes added, “and as cute as you look, sweetheart, I’m afraid that applies to you, too.”
“What are we going to do? It’ll be four days till it opens now,” the boy wondered aloud, a tone of alarm in his voice.
“Now, don’t you worry your little head, dear; it seems you’ll get to play dress-up a little longer is all. It’ll be wonderful having a sweet little girl in the house all weekend, you’ll see.”
The teenager’s cheeks turned a bright red, but not out of embarrassment from wearing such girlish clothes. Rather, it was because deep within, he couldn’t imagine anything nicer than continuing this new and exciting experience for as long as he could.
The soft caress of the silky fabrics on his powdered skin and the way the two women (especially Carolyn) pampered him was drawing him in like a fly to a spider’s web. There seemed no fight in this little fly either; despite arguments to the contrary, he inched toward their silken trap willingly.
With his mind distracted with thoughts of panties and petticoats, Mary turned the car around and headed back home. After parking the car in the drive and leading her young charge back into the house, Mary explained what had transpired to the waiting maid.
Though she tried not to giggle, it was obvious to the boy Carolyn took great delight in his misfortune. “Don’t look so sad, Chrissy; there’ll be time enough to try on all sorts of pretty things now. It’ll be just like having a real live Barbie Doll to dress for a few days. Come Monday, I’ll wager you’ll feel terrible wearing nasty boy clothes.”
Without her own family in the house (remember that Mary was recently widowed and her daughter was in college on the West Coast), Thanksgiving was to be celebrated at a local restaurant.
“It seems we’ll have a young lady joining us for dinner today, Carolyn, and not the teenaged boy we were expecting,” the older woman quipped.
“Shouldn’t Miss Christine have a bath before we go, Ma’am?” the maid asked with a mockingly serious tone.
“But of course, I’m sure she’ll want to look and smell her best on her first time out to eat,” Mary responded, her voice equally serious in tone.
The boy stood nervously by as the two women joked, and as he fidgeted, the rustling petticoats continued their unceasing caress. The thought of actually going to a public restaurant while dressed as a young prepubescent girl disturbed him momentarily, but he knew he was powerless to alter their plans for him. In fact, the stirrings under the boy’s fluffy skirts spoke more of his concurrence rather than any complaint.
