This narrative contains adult subject matter. It should not be read by anyone who is not entitled to have access to adult issues under any and all laws that govern the reader’s rights and privileges. As it relates to transgender issues, those who find the subject matter offensive should stop now and read no further.

This sixth part of a continuing story is about a teenager with an alcoholic father. It may be red separately, but the context is enhanced if you read all five of the prior segments: ‘Changes --’, ‘More Changes-- ’, Some More—", Still More—", and "Unexpected Changes for the Better".

 

Surprizing Changes for the Better        by:Virginia Kane

 

Part Six

After getting a new prescription from the Orthodics Dept., Miss Morgan and I had a long talk about dad’s physical condition and the pending lawsuit. I told her how worried I was about the way dad looked, and his lack of enthusiasm. The dad I knew was a lot different from the thin, sallow man I just visited. His poor condition made me despise the company where dad worked for the way they treated him.

I hated to deal with all the mumbo-jumbo lawyers use, but I was determined not to let them get away with treating him like dirt, making him look like a louse, and putting the blame for his drinking on my deceased mother. Miss Morgan seemed to know about what the company was trying to pull. I asked her how she knew.

"I get regular updates from your dad’s lawyer, Donny. Every time a development arises, he passes it along to me and we confer on the tactics he should use to be most effective. After all, as your guardian, I have a responsibility to see that your best interests are served."

"Then you know they plan to make mom look bad at the trial. That’s rotten! She can’t even defend herself, and we can’t prove she was good and decent. We can only say how good she was. A jury won’t believe me, anyway. What kid wouldn’t stand up for his mom? The jury will ignore what I say. She was a terrific mother. Lawyers! They won’t stop at anything, will they?"

"Don’t be so sure, Donny. Making your mom seem unfit could backfire. Unless they have proof, the jury might see it as a ruse and accept your dad’s complaint, ignoring any other provable issues they present to make your dad look bad. We have to be sure there are no skeletons in your family closet for them to find. If you know of any, you must tell me, so we can be prepared for them in court."

"You want me to tell you bad things I know about my parents? I can’t do that!"

"Would you rather see them come out in court, in public, where you will be bound by oath to tell the truth when asked? You must tell me now, Donny. How can we defend her if we don’t know what can possibly come up in court? There are rules of evidence lawyers must follow. If they know of any indiscretions on your mom’s part, they must tell your dad’s attorney about them in advance of the trial, but shrewd lawyers often wait until the last minute and spring them on your attorney when it’s too late for him to investigate and prepare proper rebuttal.

If you tell me anything, anything at all you think can damage her character, I can decide whether or not it is important and assist your dad’s attorney on how to proceed. Since I’m not a member of his law firm, I’m not bound to divulge known evidence to the lawyers defending your dad’s company. I can treat whatever you tell me as confidential, personal opinions. I purposely didn’t try to represent you, legally, to protect your secrecy. If I’m put on the stand, it’ll be hearsay."

"I--I’ll have to think. I don’t know of anything bad—" I had to lie to Miss Morgan. I had to think this out clearly, and not blurt out the wrong thing.

"Donny, it may be important. Think hard. The sooner I know of any possible issue they could raise to put your mom’s character in a bad light, the better. It isn’t easy to talk about her this way, I know, but there’s a lot at stake here. Your frankness and total honesty can make a big difference."

She could tell I knew something and wasn’t willing to share it with her. "I’ll think as hard as I can. She was overweight. She sure wasn’t the neatest person in the world, but she never did anything bad, that I can think of---."

"Give it some careful thought and let me know if you remember anything, even a petty thing that might make her seem naughty. For instance, was she worldly?"

"Worldly?"

"You know---. Did she have male friends that came by while your dad was out of town? Did she spend any time away from the house that seemed suspicious to you? Did she get dressed up to go out and not tell you where she was going or who she was seeing? Anything unusual friends that you can remember?"

"Mom? Never! The only unusual person that came by and visited her regularly was this lady friend of hers that came by with her boyfriends. They never stayed long, just for a few hours late in the evenings. I was between eleven and fourteen years old at the time, I think. They’d sit together in the living room, talk, and have a drink or two, usually some light wine her friend would bring along. Mom didn’t keep any liquor around because of dad."

"Did you stay up with them and listen in on their conversations? "

"No, it was usually late, so I’d go to bed. They never paid any attention to me, so I didn’t impose. It didn’t feel right to be there. The woman was just mom’s friend, so they never talked about anything that would interest me. Mom’s friend would look over at me funny, like she didn’t want me to hear what they talked about, so I’d be nice, excuse myself and go to bed. That’s all I know." I couldn’t tell her the rest. No one else knew. There was no way I was going to tell.

"You’re sure that’s all you know?" I shook my head, but Miss Morgan eyed me in a way that said she didn’t believe me. "Well, Donny, if you think of anything else, let me know. We have to be prepared for the worst. "

We went to pick up my new "braces" from the shop that made them. I didn’t look into the boxes, eight of them, until we got to Miss Morgan’s apartment and I went to my room to put them away. The first boxes held longer braces, much longer. They appeared to extend down beyond my hips and above my waistline, topped with a two-inch wide rigid band. "Miss Morgan---ma’am? There seems to be a mistake." She came into my room to find out what I wanted. "These braces must be for someone else. They’re not the kind I use. They’re different."

She looked at the end of the box. "These are yours, Donny. Now that your waist is trimmer, you’ll need to wear a longer brace to improve your posture, and give you a smoother look. They’ll help you stand up straighter and put less tension on your spine as your exercises become more strenuous."

"I’ll look smoother, all right. These aren’t made completely out of elastic, like my old ones. These have a smooth satin panel in front, and the sides are made out of thin nylon. They almost look like the kind my mom used to wear."

"So? Your mom suffered from lower back pain too, didn’t she?"

"Yeah, but these look like they were made for a woman, not a guy!"

"What’s the difference? Check out the rest of the boxes. I’ll bet that the man over at the shop overheard you tell me that you like the way the braces make you look sleeker, so he gave you ones that do that better. These look as if either can wear them: man or woman. So long as they fit the orthodist’s new prescription, what difference does it make? Nobody will ever see them at the gym. You sweats will cover them. If it bothers you that much, we’ll continue to use your old ones at the gym and you can wear these the rest of the time."

"My other ones are too big now. They don’t make me look thinner at the waist like they did when we first started working out. Oh, wait! These three boxes have elastic ones just like my old ones. Whew! I guess he didn’t screw up the order after all. I can continue to take showers at the community center if I use these."

She looked at the last two boxes of new braces carefully. These are the ones for wearing at night, Donny." She held up a see through corset with shoulder straps and garters. They’re much lighter and won’t ride up or slip down, as long as you use long stockings. There are two in each box. I guess the orthodist thinks you should use support twenty-four hours a day from now on."

I stood there with my mouth open, with a rising reaction to the sight of delicate corsets, in my loose fitting pants. If I said anything, she was probably ready with a response that would defray my denials of wanting to try on one of these new additions to my growing wardrobe. She looked at me with a sly cock to one of her eyebrows. "Want to see if you can squeeze into it? I can see that you like how it looks. Let’s see what it looks like on you, Donny?"

"Now? It’s nowhere near bedtime. I’d have to wear it all day."

"Better yet, let’s see how these other ones fit, the longer ones. They have looped drawstrings attached. I won’t have to help lace you lace into one every time we go to aerobics, like I did with the first batch. You’ll be able to put these on all by yourself." She tossed one at me and told me to take a shower, a cold shower, before I burst my fly off of my pants!

After my shower, I put the new brace on in the privacy of the bathroom. It did improve the way I looked, but still imparted the manly physique of a power lifter. I let out a sigh of relief. I was afraid the brace would give me a girlish figure, not that I’d mind, but I didn’t need any digs from the other members of our exercise group. With a pair of my nylon underwear, I looked better than I did in years. I expanded my chest and held my arms up with my wrists together. Well, I wasn’t an Arnold Swartzenegger look-alike, but I wasn’t expecting miracles. I put on my black silk robe to show off to Miss Morgan.

"Well, that does look better, don’t you think? Take off the robe and turn around. I want to see the effect from all sides, Donny." I turned slowly, and tried to keep my eyes on her facial expression. I expected her to bust out laughing. "Yes, you are slimming down. You couldn’t wear that brace a few weeks ago. Your fat rolls are receding nicely. Go put on one of your new nighttime braces. Don’t wear any stockings, for now. I only want to check on the fit."

I had trouble hooking up the nighttime corset. The hooks and loops were on the side, not in front. The front was a diamond shaped satin tummy-tucking panel. "If you needed help, why didn’t you call out for me to help you?" She was in the doorway to my room, with one hand high on the doorframe, the other on her hip, watching me struggle with the corset. I was red as a lobster from aggravation with the hooks and the embarrassment of her seeing me putting on the corset.

Miss Morgan casually strode up to me, slid the corset so the hooks were in front, and hooked it together. She spun me around and put the laces into my hands.

"I swear! You men are helpless as babies. Must I show you how to get dressed to go to bed, too? Pull the laces out to the sides, using equal tension. The corset will come together at the waistline first. Let loose of the drawstrings and let the corset adjust, then resume pulling. Do the same thing until the top and bottom won’t come together any more. Then, take one index finger, reach back between the laces and take up slack at the top and bottom, alternating, while you maintain tension on the drawstrings held in front of you with the other hand."

I was panting by the time she pulled the slack out of the top and bottom laces in the back. When I looked into the mirror, there was no doubt. This corset gave me a plump girl’s figure, with a slimmer waist and bulging hips and chest. The fat on my chest was drawn forward, so it looked as if I had modest sized breasts.

The shock of seeing myself as a plump girl instead of a fat boy made me take a deep breath. I swooned from the dizziness caused by the pressure on the corset and my inability to breathe deeply. "Now, don’t you look sweet? What do we have here? Looks like a Donna to me, not a Donny." She turned me around, touched my nipples and kissed me on my lips. "Now, this is the kind of man I like to have around; one with hidden talent." She cupped the bulge in my nylon underwear.

"Hmm, happy to see me, or is that a blackjack you have hidden?"

I didn’t dare move. I was about to explode if she touched me one more time.

"I-I-I-I."

"I know that tune. Spanish, isn’t it? Over a month ago, I told you that you could count on me to help you learn about adult things in a nice way, but you haven’t tried to approach me with any questions about the feelings you have when you see me wearing some of my sexier clothes. Here you are, about to celebrate a birthday, and you never once gave me a hint as to what I should buy you for your birthday. So, I took it upon myself to get you something that you can truly enjoy.

I ordered these new nighttime corsets so you can know what something like this feels like, instead of wondering about it. They’ll keep your tummy tucked in, so you won’t have that empty feeling at night; although, from the looks of your nylon ‘panties’ you must feel pretty full right now. Sit down, and I’ll add nylon stockings that go well with this outfit. I want you to experience the full effect." She pushed me back up against my bed, and I fell backwards.

She rolled first one, then the other nylon stocking up my legs. I held my hand over my forehead, quaking at her touch, afraid of spoiling the special moment with a sudden ejaculation from her gentle touches. I took a deep breath when her hand slipped the first garter through my ‘panty’ and affixed the nylon to it. She took her sweet time. The lump in my throat seemed to tighten.

"Stand up, and let me have a look at you." She pulled me to my feet. I could feel the tension on the garters increase, giving me Goosebumps. She wrapped her hands around me, pulling me toward her. She leaned forward and kissed me on my lips, grinding her lips against mine and her hot body against my groin with her hands on my butt. I couldn’t help myself. I ejaculated from the contact with her soft mound and collapsed backward onto the bed.

"Happy Birthday, Donna!" She went to my dresser, pulled out a fresh pair of my panties and tossed them onto my chest. "Go clean up and put these on. Don’t do anything else. I’ll be here waiting for you. Don’t take too long in there. We have to talk, so be quick about it."

One look in the mirror in the bathroom, with her lipstick on my lips, was all I took.

She knew my secret, but how much she knew, I wasn’t sure.

When I returned, she was still sitting on my bed, but she had taken off her dress.

She was wearing a corset similar to mine. "Sit down, Donna." Her repeated use of a feminine version of my name worried me. Did she know that I often had the dreams of being a pretty girl, with a body like hers, instead of being a fat boy?

Did she guess, or did she know that I wore mom’s sexy things that didn’t fit her anymore? How could she know I dressed like a girl because no real girl wanted me, a fat mama’s boy? Only my mom knew, and she died shortly thereafter.

I couldn’t tell her about the shock on mom’s face when she caught me in the act, in her panties, shortly after playing with myself. Mom burst into my room looking for me. Before I had a chance to hide the slimy evidence of my eruption, still in the palm of my hand, she caught me. Her shocked look and the sudden drain of color from her face when she passed out were etched deep into my brain. How could Miss Morgan possibly know that I caused my mom’s heart attack?

Did she also know I lost precious moments, covering my tracks before calling for the paramedics? I should have called them first, then remove the evidence from my room. No, I was so scared of being publicly scorned; I first gathered up all the things of mom’s that I had stashed in the back of my closet; the things I took from the trunk stored up in the attic to engage in my weird fantasies.

That one stupid move may have cost mom her life!

"Want to tell me about it now, Donna?"

I got down on my knees and bawled like a baby. "How—(sniff, sniff) how did you know? (Sniff)---Nobody (sniff) knew anything about what happened, not even my dad. How could--- (sniff) I explain it to him, or anyone? She died (cough) because she saw me in her under things, in my room, (sniff) playing with myself. "

 

Chapter Two

She let me cry myself out. She sat silently, with me at her feet, scantily dressed in a sexy corset, like the pervert I was, until I stopped crying and the bitter tears dried on my face. It might have been hours before either of us moved.

She took my head into her lap with her hands as I knelt before her. "Your mother and I were closer friends than anyone knew. She told me what happened when I visited her in the hospital, just before she passed away.

She wanted me to tell you, somehow. Her massive heart attack wasn’t your fault. Her shock of seeing you in her panties didn’t cause it. It was her mounting fear over your discovering what she did with the men who came to visit with her lady friend and what your discovery would lead to. Yes, I know about that too, and I know that you knew she did certain ‘things’ with them when they visited."

"You know? You know what the men did? She told you?"

"I refused to agree to tell you what I learned, even after she begged me. I didn’t see what good it could do. How could my telling you that I knew you found out about her part in some sexual depravity help in any way? I felt it was better for you to believe your bad habit brought on her attack, rather than her misconduct, her violation of her marital vow to your father. Why should I defame your mother? Would it alter your habit of using women’s things? Would my telling you enable you to feel any better about wearing women’s clothes to heighten your arousal?

Your dad’s court battle with his ex-employer casts a different light on the issue.

The facts may come out in court, and you must be prepared for the shock of the exposure of your mother’s activities. Your dad won’t be there, unless the doctors agree to release him, and they won’t. You will be called to testify. If the company lawyers discovered her ties with her lady friend, or any neighbor once involved with her lady friend in any way, testifies that a known dominatrix brought several men over to your house for sexual dalliances with your mother, we’re cooked.

Now, there is good cause to let you know what you think caused her heart attack isn’t true. Discovering you did not cause her heart attack. It was caused by her part in leading you to use her old clothes, her saving those damned old things in the first place. Her engaging in rampant sex, with total strangers, right in your home, right under your nose caused it. She was riddled with guilt that she was caught in the act, though she knew you were bound to find out, sooner or later.

"Yes, she told me she spotted you watching from the top of the stairs one night. She never let you know, because of her guilt. She never had another visit from the woman and the men she brought. The visits stopped after you discovered her secret, didn’t they? Your discovery was too much for her to bear.

Knowing that you knew of her onerous sideline, she stopped taking calls from the woman. Her lady friend was a dominatrix: a woman that subjugates men, forces them to humiliate themselves. The men paid the lady a lot of money to punish them and require them to perform perverse sex acts with an obese woman.

Donny, I know this is hard for you to hear, from someone like me, but better me than an attacking attorney in a courtroom. The lady friend would pay your mother to receive oral sexual attention from the men, as a form of their humiliation. Her obesity (that word again) made your mother a very unlikely sexual candidate for the men’s voluntary sexual attentions. The dominatrix forced the men to service your mother while dressed up like you, in a sexy corset.

I got dizzy. My tongue got stiff and my stomach lurched. I ran to the bathroom and heaved my guts for all I was worth. I couldn’t stop. My mom: a sloppy fat whore, getting paid to let men do things, unspeakable things to her? I cried my eyes out. Why? Why would she do it? My mind reeled. How? How could she? Didn’t she have the least bit of self-respect? What about dad? Did he know? Did he discover her indiscretions, too? What would he say if it came out in court?

I lay before the toilet in agony. I still blamed myself. What if I wasn’t wearing her things, if I didn’t delay in calling for help, if I didn’t see her with the men on their knees at her feet? Would she still die from the heart attack? Would she survive? Would she still be alive, and this entire nightmare never begin?

Miss Morgan got down on the floor with me, handed me a glass of warm water, to rinse out my mouth. Afterwards, she stroked my hair and whispered. "Donny, you can’t blame yourself for what happened, any more than your mother could blame herself. Your mom did what she believed she had to do in order to survive. Her weight, not you or her sexual promiscuity caused the heart attack. The load on her heart was more than it could bear. The death certificate was clear. It was only due to her being so overweight.

"She needed the money for the family to live on. She had no choice. Your dad started drinking long before she saw any men. He was cheating on her, seeing women too, when he was away from home. You can’t blame her for seeking solace as best as she could. She didn’t do those things for the thrill of sex. She was compelled to make the money. Please, Donny, forgive her. Trust that she didn’t think she had any other choice. I know what that’s like. Believe me."

"You? What do you know? Do you know what it’s like to be poor, to not have a decent pair of shoes, while other kids have all the things they want? Do you know what it is like to miss a birthday, because your parents can’t afford a present, or even a lousy cake? With your money, you can buy anything you want. You can afford to waste money on shit like this for me to wear." I tore at the corset, trying to rid myself of the cause of my depravity, my own weakness.

"What do you know? Please leave me alone. I don’t want to be ungrateful and tell you how sick I am of your pampering. You’ve been pushing me into wearing this stuff, because you knew. You knew that I’m a sick, overstuffed, neurotic pervert, and you strung me along, laughing behind my back. Are you happy? Is this what you wanted? Go ahead! Laugh at me like everyone else does! Why not? Look at the goofy fat kid in girl’s clothes! Look at the queer! See! See! Funny, isn’t it?"

I collapsed on the floor, my head swimming. I wanted to die. I felt her taking me into her arms, holding me, embracing me, as my mom did, too long ago. I didn’t think I’d ever get to feel the warmth of a woman holding me again. What girl in her right mind would even want to touch me? A smart girl would run, like the girl at the party when we played "spin the bottle". She ran. Damn right she ran! She had sense enough to steer clear of the fat, little queer that liked her panties more than the girl in them.

"What am I going to do? You must hate me. Why was I ever born? This is no way to live. What for? Why prolong it? Mom was lucky. It’s over for her.

"STOP IT! What makes you think you’re any different than anybody else?!!! What are you going to do? I’ll tell you! It’s my responsibility to tell you! You’re going to stop feeling sorry for yourself, get up and face life like a man! That’s what you’re going to do! Hate you? How can I hate my own shadow? How can I make fun of you for wearing woman’s clothes? How can I blame your mom for selling sex?

She was screaming at me. She slapped me in the face!

"You poor baby (sarcastically). You have it so tough! You want to give up on life because it isn’t a bowl of peaches and strawberries with cream all over the top! You got a lot of nerve! What do I know? I know you can get up and take a good look at what you find looking back in the mirror. Take a good long look!

Life! What’s it all about? It’s a precious gift, to cherish, no matter how bad things seem to get. You do what needs to be done to survive and you get on with it, kid.

I did. You think you’ve got it bad? You are so self centered you slept when I tried to tell you how bad life could be. You! I know! I know!

Look!" She stood up, towering over me, stuck her hand behind the waistband of her panties and pulled them down. She had a penis! I couldn’t believe my eyes!

"Is this what you dream about all night, when we close our doors and you play with yourself? Am I any different from you? Donny, I let my body be sold to men for far worse acts of depravity than your mother ever did! I had to! I didn’t have a choice! My dear uncles saw to that! They drugged me and had doctors surgically change the way my face looks, and added these jugs to my chest, and shortened the tendons in my calves so I can never walk the streets like a man again. You have a hard time! HUH? Look at me! Look! Dammit! Look at me!

Then, get up and take a good look at yourself. Look deep and tell me what you see! Did anyone force you to put on your mother’s things? Would you have worn that corset, if you hadn’t tried it before and knew how nice it feels to have a silky nightie against your body? Who are you blaming? Is the whole world at fault? Is your fate any worse than mine was? I got out. I got lucky for a change, true. Yet, I did what I had to until my luck changed. Like you have to do, now. STAND UP!"

I stood up, afraid to refuse. I looked at the mirror, still in awe from her revelation.

She was a man! She was male! I had no idea! How could I? She was so perfect!

She stood behind me, and I shrunk away from her, turning. My next thought was that she was a freak! An impossible freak! I cowered against the wall in fear.

"Turn back around and look at yourself. With a little war paint and hair spray, you and I could be sisters. Still think you mom was evil, sick, or depraved? What are we? You got bigger problems than worrying about what kind of clothes you wear. What are you going to eat, if you run out of here, screaming because you saw a man that looks like your best wet dream?" Her volume lowered. "What will you do for your dad? Think of someone else for a change. Is he going to survive on the paltry subsistence benefits? Where will you go? How will you live and survive while he wastes away in the hospital on the minimal dialysis public aid provides?

You need to think about the trial coming up. How will you react to claims about your mom selling her body? The jury won’t be able to see what she was like. The company’s lawyers will make her out to be a wanton slut, kid. Trust me. They’ll drag her down to the level of a street tramp if they can. We have to be prepared for it in case anybody can testify to it, or could have known. Think!

Did anyone see the men come over? Do you remember? Was any neighbor at the house when the woman came by with a man? Think! The men who she saw aren’t likely to squeal, or the dominatrix, but a neighbor might. Think very hard! It’s important! We have to be prepared for the worst. We can’t let the lawyers use suppositions to bait us into telling them any more than they already know. Now you won’t be shocked by leading questions or slip if they try to pressure you into talking under oath. Think! Plan how you will respond to shocking claims.

How does your stomach feel, Don?" She called me Don!

"Okay I guess. I’m okay. The shock of finding out my secret wasn’t so secret was a bit much for me ma’am." I looked at her—uh,--him. "I still can’t believe you---"

"In a day or two, your confusion will pass. At least you now know it’s possible to have a deep, dark secret that’s nobody’s business, unless you choose to share it with someone you love and trust." She placed her warm palm against my cheek and smiled. "You aren’t alone, Donny. Now you know why I was so willing to be your guardian. I told you several times that I was just like you at your age.

Let’s go to the kitchen, have a cup of tea and relax. Then we can plan our next move. We have a lot of planning to do."

I couldn’t get over it. I watched her backside as she stepped out of the bathroom, into the kitchen area. She, or should I say he, was totally female except for the shriveled mass of manhood she kept hidden away. If she-he didn’t show me, I would never have guessed. I shook my head and turned back again to the mirror. Could I do that? Could I become a luscious imitation of a girl to the unsuspecting world? Would I want to?

"Donny? Come on out. You can think about what you want to do about the future, now that you know about me, later.

 

Chapter Three.

We sat in the kitchen, sipping tea, like two girlfriends.

"Who could know, ma’am? The lady only came at night. Our house is set back from the street more than the houses on either side. She’d park in the driveway. The tall hedges hid her car from view, except from Mrs. Sullivan’s house. Oh, no! She must know! She sits in her window watching everything that goes on in the neighborhood! She could have seen the lady bringing men to see mom."

"You’re sure? Only the Sullivan’s could have seen?"

"Yes, unless someone was visiting them, but then, she probably wouldn’t be at the side window watching our yard, if she had company. Her hedges, except for the ones dad trashed, shield our driveway from view. Our house is shielded the same way on the other side, only more so. "

"We have little to worry about from Mrs. Sullivan. She has her own skeletons to consider. The lady who brought the men was introduced to your mother by your neighbor, Mrs. Sullivan. It seems she was quite a gal in her younger days. Your mother replaced her. She too had visitors late at night, when she was younger. She won’t pose any problems."

"That’s impossible! Mrs. Sullivan? How do you know?"

"Your mother told me, when I asked her how she got involved. I’ll have a talk with your dad’s attorney, immediately. We have to prepare you for giving a deposition without reacting to questions and blurting out revealing answers. I’ll see if I can get him to come over, tonight. In the meantime, get changed. Wear your sweats if you’d like.

The lawyer arrived in less than two hours. He arrived early in the evening, but spent hours, grueling me, over and over. He asked the same questions several different ways, until I answered automatically. He corrected me every time I said something that would lead a sharp attorney to dig further, make me nervous, or trap me in some way.

He made me feel uncomfortable; worried that I’d say the wrong things. He kept reminding me that he was preparing me, and then badgered me, practicing what the opposition’s attorneys might do if they have any evidence at all about mom’s indiscretions.

We spent half the night at it, and I was tired. Discovering Miss Morgan’s secret seemed like ancient history, almost forgotten by the time we were through. The lawyer finally left, and I fell asleep, without putting on one of the lightweight night corsets. Feminine finery was the last thing on my mind.

 

To be continued.

 

 

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