Contest And Consequence

by Sarah Bayen

Part Ten    Three Cheers For Liz

 

I was dreading the journey to school the following morning, and, even as I walked to the station, I begun to wish that I had taken Liz up on her offer to drive me in. Still, I said to myself as I steeled my resolve, I had to face Anita sooner or later, and sooner would in all probability be better.

For some reason best known to myself, I had decided that morning to wear the pink fluffy knickers that Liz had bought me. While I was dressing, I had looked at myself in the mirror to try and see why she hadn't taken advantage of my willingness to have sex with her the night before. The obvious reason was that my bum was too big. To correct her repulsion with that part of my body, it seemed to me a good idea to cover it with something I knew she found attractive. So with that sort of thought in mind, I had slipped the knickers on under my school trousers.

Somehow my school trousers felt as uncomfortable as my jeans had the evening before. I didn't like the way they hung loose on my legs, or the way the gusset was cutting into me. I shook my head. I was getting so used to wearing skirts that I was actually beginning to prefer them.

Still, I remembered, I had resolved to stop dressing as a girl from now on. It had got me into far too much trouble. I had to do the cheerleader bit, but that wasn't really dressing as a girl was it? It wasn't even going to be a real skirt, and even if you took the view that it was, I wasn't going to be wearing it as a skirt, because I wasn't going to be wearing tights. So there, I told myself, I wasn't going to be dressing as a girl at all.

The train arrived, and I rather tentatively looked for my friends. I saw them, and walked into the carriage to join them. Lawrence and Tania were sharing a fashion magazine, and reading it avidly. They nodded to acknowledge my arrival, but quickly went back to their avid reading. Nikki smiled, and I sat between her and Sue. Anita sat opposite us, with a dark look on her face. She spent most of the journey looking pointedly out of the window, and said nothing to me, or any of the others.

"David rang up last night," Sue said, looking intently at me.

"David?" I asked vaguely.

"You remember, Sylvia's brother, the dishy one."

"Oh yes," I replied, remembering Sue's unfortunate crush.

"He asked if we could go around to the shop after school tomorrow." Sue went on.

"Oh, why?" I asked.

"I don't know. I suppose he probably wants to talk to us about our jobs if Sylvia's going to be in hospital for some time."

I thought about this. It hadn't really occurred to me that Sylvia's hospital admission might well render my agreement to work in her shop invalid. That fitted in well with my new resolve to stop dressing as a girl, but a part of me felt bereaved, both because of the fun I had had working there once Sylvia had gone upstairs, and because of the new friendship I had made with Sue.

"So will you come with me?" Sue asked.

I looked at her. Her eyes were pleading with me, so I shrugged. "I suppose so," I replied.

"You'll have to come as Sarah again," she went on in a quiet voice. "Otherwise David will think it's a bit odd."

I looked at her. This rather bit into my not dressing as a girl a little too deep. I thought hard. It wouldn't be for long. All I'd need to do was get changed at Sue's house, go along to the shop to be told I'd got the sack, and then back to Sue's house to get changed back into a boy. In fact, the time involved hardly counted as being dressed as a girl at all; and thinking about it, I could even go in my jeans, with maybe a pretty top or something. In fact, there was the perfect one in the shop, a sort of gypsy style. I found myself thinking. Not that that would be any good, being in the shop. Anyway, the end result was I wouldn't even have to wear a skirt if I didn't want to.

"All right," I said, "That's sounds fair enough."
"Oh good!" Sue exclaimed. "I didn't want to go on my own."

We smiled at each other, and I was pleased that I had so easily been able to do something for her.

The train reached its destination, and we all got out of the carriage. The sullen Anita had got out first, and stood on the platform watching us all climb down. "Can we have a word?" she said, flatly, as I climbed down last.

"Sure," I agreed, and waited with her while the others, and the other school students filed past us.

"I think we need to talk about yesterday," Anita announced.

"Okay," I replied, secretly dreading what might happen.

"I was really hurt by what you did," she said. "Of all the people to go off with, you had to pick Chrissie." She stared at me accusingly, with her blue eyes ice cold and hard.

"Yes," I replied, hardly able to look at her. "It was a mistake. I'm sorry."

She looked at me, with her lips pressed firmly together. "I thought about it a lot after you'd gone," she went on. "And I think I know why you did it."

"Do you?"

"Yes. It was because of Saturday night wasn't it? That, and finding out that I was going out with John."

I nodded meekly. "Yes."

She looked at me again, her eyes boring through to the inner recesses of my soul. "Well I'm sorry too," she said, her voice suddenly softening. "It was really thoughtless of me, especially after how Saturday night had ended."

I felt tears coming into my eyes, and looked down at the surface of the platform with unnatural interest.

"I should have put him off, and spent the rest of the day with you, that would have been better," she went on. "Will you ever forgive me?"

I looked up at her. There was genuine concern on her face that she might never be forgiven. I felt the tears fall from my eyes, and my mouth quivering.

"Oh Sarah I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, and clasped me into a hug.

"My name's Steve," I blubbed, between sobs, as we hugged each other. I felt her shake, and was surprised to see that she was crying too.

"Are we still friends?" she asked, after some time had passed.

I smiled through my tears, and nodded. "Yes."

We walked together to school arm in arm, heedless of who might see us. I was so relieved that we had managed to make up, that I barely registered that we had still not resolved the question of John, and that I had made no confession of my relationship with Liz. In spite of that, I was momentarily happy. We hugged again as we arrived at the school, and went our separate ways to our homerooms.

We had been registered as present, and were just milling around, when I saw Lawrence outside the class waving to me to get my attention. I excused myself from my friends, and went outside the door to see what he wanted.

"Hi," he said conspiratorially. "I wondered if you were ready."

"Ready for what?" I asked.
"The cheerleading."

I looked at my watch. "That's not until ten o'clock; I'm sure that's what Miss Underwood said."

He looked a little sheepish. "Yes, I know, but I wanted to have a chat with you first, if that's okay."

I shrugged, and we walked off into the school fields. It was a bright sunny day, and being the last week of the school year, there were quite a few kids just sitting around, enjoying the sunshine, and generally letting off steam. Lawrence found a free bench, and we sat down on it.

"What's the problem?" I asked, rather directly.

"Oh there's no problem. I just need to tell you something," he said brightly. "I've been keeping it to myself all weekend, I just have to tell someone."

He looked at me eagerly for permission to continue. "Well what is it then?"

"It's me and Max," he went on. "On Saturday, after we left the disco," he paused to look around to see if anyone else was listening. Satisfied, he continued. "Well, once we got back to her house, I let her go all the way!"

He looked at me for some sort of reaction, approval or what, I did not know.

"All the way?" I repeated.

"Yes, you know what I mean," he said, with a note of irritation.

"Oh, yes. Was it all right?" I asked.

He smiled to himself. "It was lovely!" he cooed. "But I'm still not sure I should have done it, what do you think?"

I was flabbergasted. What was I supposed to say? "Well, as long as you both enjoyed it, I suppose it's all right," was the best I could put together in the time.

"Yes, but I'm not really old enough am I?" he went on, with the same pleading look in his eyes. "I shouldn't really have let her, but it just seemed so right at the time."

I looked out across the field. Lawrence had obviously had a similar experience to me on Saturday night, as was experiencing the same sort of doubts. I hadn't confided in anyone yet, it hadn't really occurred to me. He on the other hand, seemed to see me as a natural confessor.

"Well only you know if you're ready or not," I said, remembering a phrase I'd read in a magazine that seemed appropriate. "And whether Max is the right one to make your first."

He thought about this. "I'm sure she is," he announced, after a few moments consideration. "And I do love her."

"I'm sure you do," I said, trying to be reassuring.

"And I think she loves me," he went on. "She says she does anyway."

"I think she probably does," I responded. "She's always looking at you, and stuff like that."

"But that could just be lust rather than true love," he went on. I was startled by his choice of phrase – true love? He must be reading more girls' magazines than even I was. "What do you think Sarah?"

"My name is Steve," I insisted.

"Sorry," he went on. "But what do you think? How can you tell when someone is really in love with you, not just fancying you or your body?"

I looked at him and shook my head. "It's not easy," I said eventually. "I suppose when it happens, you just know."

"Yes," he agreed. "But do you think I did the right thing?"

I was feeling utterly helpless by now. What did he expect me to say? There was more to this being a girl than just wearing the clothes. "Only you can say really Lawrence. I mean, as long as you feel comfortable with it, and you were careful."

"Careful?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, blushing a little. "You know, careful."

He shook his head.

"About making babies!" I hissed.

"Oh I see! Well I was careful enough about that. I didn't," he looked around again to check the coast was clear, "finish, if you know what I mean."

I was amazed at his restraint, which must have shown on my face.

"Well I didn't," he insisted, and then continued in a conspiratorial voice. "I had to pretend to, otherwise she wouldn't have ever stopped!"

This was more information than I would have wished for, but I tried to keep my cool as he stared at me anxiously. After a while, he broke the gaze, and looked away. "Still, not that I'd mind having babies, eventually."

"Lawrence, you're only fourteen!" I exclaimed.

"I know," he said sheepishly. "Nearly fifteen anyway, but Max makes me feel so good, I could just go for it without thinking sometimes."

I looked at him carefully. "Go for it?"

"Yes, you know, just let her do what she wants, and then have some babies."

He seemed to have forgotten some aspects of his own biology. "You are a boy, Lawrence, remember; you won't be able to have babies, even if you wanted to."

He looked down at the ground with tears forming in his eyes, and I cursed myself for saying what I had so bluntly.

"I know that," he snapped, "but it doesn't stop the feelings!"

Suddenly I found myself thinking about Liz, and my feelings for her. Why was it that she made my body sing so much when she was near? It wasn't like fancying Anita; that was different. The thing with Liz was more as Lawrence had described his feelings for Max, a strong desire to let her take me, and give her babies in return.

"I'm sorry," I said, putting my hand on his knee. "I know what you mean."

"Do you?" he asked pointedly.

"Yes," I whispered in reply.

There was an awkward silence, and I was relieved for a moment to see the lumbering figure of Janet coming across the field towards us.

"Hello," she said. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

I looked at Lawrence, and he shook his head. "No," I said, "Come and join us."

She shook her head. "No, I've got to go and do something in a minute." She looked at me awkwardly, and then at Lawrence. Finally she plucked up the courage to ask what was on her mind. "I was wondering if you'd," she hesitated, "managed to ask that person that question that we talked about."

I took me a while to gather the meaning amongst all the 'that's'. Once I did, I said. "No, not yet Janet. I'm seeing him in a little while. I'll have a go then."

Her worried frown, slightly less red than yesterday, disappeared to be replaced with a broad grin. "Thanks Sarah!" she exclaimed.

"My name's Steve," I said, with exasperation.

"Yeah, well thanks," she said, dismissively, and walked off again across the field.

"We'd better think about getting off to see Miss Underwood in a minute," Lawrence said. "It's ten to ten. I've got a couple of things to pick up before we get there."
"Oh right," I said.

"Thanks for listening Sarah," Lawrence said sheepishly. "I must sound a right fool going on about it like this."

"Not at all," I replied. "That's what friends are for isn't it? I'm sure you'd do the same for me."

"Of course I would!" he exclaimed, and broke into a smile. "Right, well I'll see you by the gym in ten minutes."

"Fine," I replied, and watched as he skipped away, obviously feeling less burdened than before our little chat. I sat where I was, thinking about what he had said. He seemed to have taken to being a girl quite literally. Max was older than him, and taller and stronger, so I supposed it was natural that he would feel like the girl in the relationship, but to start thinking about babies, that was the strange part. Did I want Liz to get me pregnant, I asked myself, but I was too scared to look deep enough to find the answer. All I knew for certain was that I was a bit disappointed that I hadn't seen Liz that morning.

I decided that it was time to go for my first cheerleading lesson, and made my way to the games area of the school. We were supposed to be meeting Miss Underwood by the staff room there. I had arrived first, and the room was locked. I hung around for a while, waiting for an eager Lawrence to appear, but to my surprise it was Peter who came along first.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," I responded, suddenly remembering my promise to Janet. "Did you have a good weekend?"

"Yes, not bad," he replied. "Better than last weekend anyway, I spent most of that with Chrissie making me wear her clothes."

"Yes," I said, with sympathy. "Did you get on well with her, and her friends?"

He stared at me with a puzzled look. "Not really, she's a right cow is Janet. I thought you'd know that of all people after what she did to Lawrence's dress."

"Yes," I agreed. "But her friends aren't so bad are they?"

"I don't know about that," he went on. "Jacquie's a right thug; and a sadist. She seemed to get a real kick out of making me wear ridiculous things."

"Yeah," I agreed, imagining that that would indeed appeal to Jacquie's sensibilities. "Janet's not so bad though is she?" I suggested, after a pause.

He shrugged. "Perhaps, but she's a bit odd."

"In what way?"

"Well, I don't know if you knew, but she bought me a whole bag of underwear; girl's underwear that is. She wanted me to wear it, but Chrissie said it was rubbish."

"Blimey," I exclaimed in mock surprise. "Still, perhaps it meant she liked you."

His brow furrowed. "Well it's a funny way to show it." He gave some thought to my suggestion. "Still, you might be right. She was always the nicest of the three of them, as long as I was being what they called a good girl."

"What did that mean?"

"Well, just that I was doing what I was told, and pretending to be a girl properly and stuff."

"Oh I see," I responded. This wasn't getting me any closer to fulfilling the task Janet had set me. I thought long and hard for a different approach, but was thwarted by the arrival of Miss Underwood.

"Hi guys!" she said brightly. She was carrying a huge bag, which I supposed probably contained the cheerleading outfits. "Only two of you? Where's Lucy?"

"He'll be along in a minute Miss Underwood," I said dutifully.

She looked at me. "Call me Nancy, Sarah. " she said. "It's better when we're training. It's what the girls call me anyway."

I smiled at her. "Okay Nancy. Perhaps you could call me Steve."

She looked puzzled by this. "Well if you want," she replied eventually, shrugging. "I might not remember though, try not to be offended if I don't."

She unlocked the staff door, and while she went in, Lawrence came running up to us, carrying a bag of his own.

"Hi," he said, slightly out of breath.

"What's in the bag?" I asked.

"Just a few bits and pieces," he replied. "My wig, and a bra, in case we have to wear them."

My mouth opened in shock. I hadn't even thought about that. I had simply assumed that Miss Underwood, Nancy, was providing the uniforms, and all I would have to do would be turn up. Thinking about it now, it seemed extremely unlikely that she would be able to provide us with wigs and bras and things.

"Have you brought your wig along?" I asked Peter.

"No," he replied. "Chrissie took it back. I haven't got one any more, thank God."

Well at least I wouldn't be alone.

Nancy came out of the little room, still with her bag, and locked it behind her. "Hi Lucy, glad you could make it," she said.

"Sorry I was a bit late," Lawrence spluttered. "I had to pick up a few things."

"Well at least you're here now. Come on, let's get off out to the sports field and get things started."

We followed her out of the door onto the sports area, and round the side to the changing rooms there. She headed for the girls' changing block, and unlocked the door.

"Err, Nancy," I said, as she flung the door open.

"What is it honey?" she asked.

"Shouldn't we be using the boys' block, rather than this one."

She looked at me for a moment. "Oh I see what you mean. Well, there's no girls in here at the moment, so I think you'll be safe," she said. "Besides, I've only got the keys to the girls'." She looked at me for a few seconds and then winked. "They wouldn't let a crazy woman like me have the keys to the boys' would they?"

She smiled. "Come on in," she said, leading the way.

We walked into the inner sanctum, and all three of us looked around to see what secrets it might hold. It was in fact disappointingly similar to the boys' changing facilities; rows of pegs and hooks, with the showers and toilets out at the back. The only difference was the garish pink paint; the boys' was blue. Our school was hardly at the forefront of abandoning stereotypes.

"Right," Nancy said, tipping the bag she had been carrying upside down. "I'd best explain the costumes to you, before you put them on."

"Do we have to practice in the costumes then?" Peter asked suddenly, and rather querulously. "I thought perhaps we'd only have to wear them on Wednesday."

Nancy looked at him, as if she'd been expecting this complaint. "Well to be honest honey, the costume's as much part of the whole thing as the dancing. You can't really have one without the other."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked.

"Well you'll see when you get around to doing it," she began. "But all the moves are kind of dependent on making the most of the costume you have on. It's sounds a bit tricky, but believe me, once you're in the swing you'll see what I'm getting at."

Peter shrugged, resigned to wearing the uniform as Nancy was suggesting.

She picked up a long-sleeved top, with the legend 'LHS' prominent on a white crest on the front. These were the initials of our school; the rest of the outfit was in the school blue. "This is what's called a shell top," she explained. "Like you're the mutant hero turtles or something," she added smiling. "All you have to do is slip it on, it holds pretty tight. You have all brought your brassieres haven't you?"

"I have!" Lawrence announced brightly, searching through his bag.

"Good. What about you two?"

I shook my head. My bras were back at home, in my weekend bag. It occurred to me then that I should have arranged for them to be washed in some way.

"I haven't got a brassiere," Peter announced with some pride.

"But you had one last week!" Nancy pointed with, with some exasperation in her voice.

"I know that," Peter snapped back. "But I'd only borrowed it."

"Well you'll have to borrow another one for Wednesday," Nancy went on. "You'll be all right for now, but it'd be good to get one for the practice session tomorrow. Then you can really get into the swing of it."

Peter stared at her glumly. It was obvious he didn't' relish the thought of having to wear a bra again. I thought about his asthma; maybe he found that they restricted his breathing.

"I'll bring mine tomorrow," I volunteered.

"Good," said Nancy, smiling at me. "What about you Veronica ?"

"The name's Peter," he said, scowling. "Well I'll see what I can do."

"I can probably get hold of one for you," Nancy went on. "Do you know what size you are? Most of the girls in the sports teams are going to be bigger than you I think."

"Thirty-two," he muttered quietly.

"Okay, well maybe I can get hold of one." Nancy said, looking at him in some dismay. It seemed we weren't proving ideal cheerleading candidates. She turned back to the uniforms, and picked up one of the skirts. It was preposterously short, heavily pleated, with a row of lines around the hem in sky blue, dark blue and white against the background blue of the school colours.

"This is the skirt," she announced. "You shouldn't have any trouble with that. You've all worn skirts before."

"It's a bit short," Lawrence observed looking closely at it. I had to agree with him. There was no way I was going to be able to hide my bum and thighs in that.

Nancy simply shrugged. "Cheering skirts just are," she said. "You wouldn't be able to do all the moves in anything much longer; or tighter."

Lawrence looked at me, and raised his eyebrows. We both obviously shared concerns about our modesty in skirts that short.

"And last, there's these," Nancy went on, holding up a rather large pair of what looked like nylon shorts in the school blue. "These are the panties that go with the costume." She paused for a second, and smirked to herself. "It's kind of ironic in a way."

"What is?" I asked.

"Well," she said. "These are called boy cut briefs. Sometimes girls don't like wearing them because of that."

I looked at her quizzically, while she smiled to herself. "So what's ironic?"

"Nothing really. I just thought you three probably wouldn't feel all that boyish in them, that's all."

"No," Peter agreed. "If you Americans think those look like boy's pants, then you're pretty weird."

Nancy carried on smiling. "Well I don't know that we think they look like boy's pants; not the colour or the material anyway, it's just they way they're cut. Never mind," she said. "All you have to do is slip them on over your regular panties. Shall I just leave you to get the costumes on?"

"Okay," Lawrence and I replied.

"And don't forget to put on your wigs as well," she added, walking towards the door.

"Our wigs?" I asked.

"Sure, the ones you had on last week. A lot of the moves look better if you're flinging your hair around."

"I haven't brought mine," I confessed.

"Me neither. I gave it back." Peter added.

"Oh for Christ's sake you two!" Nancy admonished us. "You're not taking this seriously enough!"

"Sorry," I responded. "I'll bring mine tomorrow."

She nodded, and turned her eyes to Peter. "I haven't got one!" he protested. "I don't see what I can do? I'll pull out if you like."

"No don't do that!" Lawrence pleaded with him.

"No," Nancy added. "There's not much you can do with two cheerleaders. It'll be much better to have three." She paused for a while, looking at us. "You leave it to me honey, I'll see what I can do for you. Oh and another thing, what pumps have you brought?"

"Pumps?" I asked.

"Shoes!" she explained.

I hadn't actually brought any; nor, it turned out had Peter. Nancy seemed to think that this was carelessness of the highest order, particularly as Lawrence had had the foresight to bring some. "Well I'll have to sort you out some from the lost property," she said. "What sizes are you?"

"Four," said Peter.

"Six," I added.

"Sasquatch!" Nancy exclaimed.

"Sorry?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing. It just means big foot. I'm sure I can find you some though." She left, and shut the door. This was terrible. Now I didn't only have to worry about my bum and thighs, I now had to think about my huge feet, and how to hide them.

We started to put our costumes on. The top felt really weird, with its tight fitting sleeves hugging my arms. It was a little baggy at the front where the crest was, but I thought that would probably be all right once I had my bra on. I started to undo my trousers, and then suddenly remembered that I had the pink fluffy knickers that Liz had given me on. What would Lawrence and Peter make of that? I turned to look at them. Lawrence had already taken off his trousers, and was stepping into the skirt. I noticed at once that he was wearing a pair of white nylon knickers with lace detail.

"What are you looking at?"

"Your knickers," I answered, before thinking. Peter turned to see as well.

Lawrence stood up defiantly. "So what's your point? It just so happens I prefer to wear knickers like these to boy's ones!"

"It's no problem," I said, reconciliatory. "I'm the same." And with this I took my own trousers off to reveal the pink fluffy monstrosities I was wearing.

"Ooh they're cute!" Lawrence observed. "Where did you get them?"

"Liz bought them for me." I replied.

"Liz!" Lawrence repeated, his eyes widening. "I see! I thought you and Anita had something going, but perhaps I was mistaken!"

"Perhaps." I went on.

I slipped into the skirt, and pulled it up. It really was short. It hardly covered me at all, and I could see that the slightest movement was going to reveal my knickers and bum, boy cut or not.

"Why are you two wearing girl's knickers then?" Peter demanded, having taken off his own trousers to reveal rather tatty looking Y-fronts.

"We just are!" Lawrence replied brightly, while slipping himself into his bra. Peter looked puzzled and shook his head. Lawrence got a box out of his bag, and then opened it up. Inside were what looked like two odd shaped rubber balls.

"What's that?" I asked him

"Breast forms," he explained. "Max bought them for me. They make my boobs look a whole lot more realistic." He slipped them into his bra, and, looking at him, I could see that he was right. He turned from side to side. "What do you think?"

"They do look good; realistic anyway." I managed to say. "Better than they do with socks."

"Oh yeah," he said, smiling. "These are much better." He smiled naughtily. "And they feel better as well, or at least, that's what Max says!"

Peter looked decidedly uncomfortable about this conversation, and busied himself in finishing dressing. Following Nancy Underwood's advice, I put the boy cut briefs on over the top of my knickers, and walked across to one of the mirrors to check the effect. I was immediately struck by my legs; rather than being concerned as usual with whether they were fat or not, I noticed how white they looked. There was no doubt about it, I would have to get some tan on them over the summer holidays if I was going to go without tights like this. I pulled myself up with a start; what was I thinking of? Going without tights; of course I was going to go without tights; I wasn't going to wear a skirt any more, how could I have forgotten?

I pulled myself away from the mirror, and waited for the other two to finish. Silently, we seemed to have agreed that we were all going to go outside together. Lawrence was the last to finish, fussing with his wig, and tying it back into a ponytail. We were still barefooted, apart from Lawrence, who had put on a pair of white ankle socks, and a pair of trainers with the school blue flashes on them.

"Are we ready?" he asked, despite being the last to reach this state. Peter and I nodded, and we moved as one towards the door, and through it onto the school field.

To my dismay, Liz was outside talking to Nancy. I thought of all the faults I had noticed with my appearance, and how she would immediately see these. For a few seconds they didn't notice us, but then Nancy turned, and they stopped their private conversation to walk over to us.

"My my; look at you!" Liz announced, smiling broadly at me. "You look fantastic!"

"They all do!" Nancy added, smiling almost as wide.

Liz came over to me, and, placing both hands delicately around my shoulders, bent down to kiss my forehead. "It's good to see you," she said.

"Babies," I found myself replying, as my head spun with the proximity of her.

"What?" she asked, with a puzzled look on her face.

"Nothing," I replied quickly, blushing. "I was just thinking about something else."

"Well all we need to do is sort you two out with some shoes," Nancy went on. "Here, try these. They're the sizes you said you were."

She handed Peter and I the shoes. Mine were very white and clean, with pink trimmings. I slipped them onto my feet, and looked at myself. They looked every inch like girl's feet, even though they were obviously from what Nancy had said too big.

"They look good on you," Liz commented. "The whole outfit does. You stand by the touchline in that on Wednesday, and I'll make sure I score a couple of goals for you."

Peter put his shoes on as well, and looked rather glum about the effect.

"Okay, we'll get started then," Nancy announced. She turned to Liz. "And you can get off back to school. You'll put them off if you hang around here."

"Oh," replied Liz, with a hint of disappointment. Then she shrugged. "Fair enough. I'll see you later! I'll be around about six." she said to me, winking, and then turned to walk away.

I was deliriously happy with the thought of Liz coming around to see me again. She obviously hadn't noticed my huge feet; perhaps the pink shoes were making them look smaller. I watched her go back towards the school, and was only brought back to the task in hand by Nancy's insistent coughing.

The next two hours were hell. Nancy started off by explaining to us that cheerleading was a sport, and that we had better damn well take it seriously. She then got us to do a whole series of warm up exercises and stretches before we even started to get down to business.

Then there was a whole series of what she called Xs and Ys, as well as combination moves where Lawrence, Peter and I were supposed to get together to do something or other. We were enthusiastic enough, but hardly skilled at the art, or I suppose I should say sport. Nancy encouraged us as best she could, but I could see from her face the disappointment she must be feeling, and how, from time to time, she decided she had to simplify the moves she had been trying to get us to do.

Most of these seemed designed to make us show off some part of our anatomy or other; either our bums, our boobs, or at best our legs. I tried to get into it as best as I could, remembering how good it had felt to be dancing on Saturday night, but it was hard with the rigid choreography that she was insisting on. Peter went through the motions, and had to stop twice to inhale. Lawrence, however, was a whirling dervish, flinging himself into every move, with his ponytail swinging out behind him, and a rigid smile on his face.

Eventually we were done, and exhausted. I had no idea that cheerleading was so vigorous. Nancy told us that we had to have another practice the following morning, and warned Peter and me to make sure we brought along our wigs and brassieres. We traipsed back to the girls' changing rooms, and stripped off ready to shower.

I for one was glad I hadn't been wearing my wig with all that exertion. My hair was wet enough anyway, and it felt good to clean it off with the warm water. If people wanted me to have long hair, I thought to myself, then I would be a lot better off letting my own grow that keep putting on a wig. I wondered if Liz preferred my hair long or short? Perhaps Peter and Lawrence could be my bridesmaids.

I shook myself out of the mindset that had produced this random thought. Liz was certainly having a profound effect on my psyche. I had to find some sort of defence against it, or my newfound resolve never to wear a skirt again would crumble into dust the first time she asked me to. But letting her kiss me was just so yummy!

We stepped out of the shower, and dried ourselves off. There was no real conversation, and it occurred to me that I hadn't managed to ask Peter about Janet yet. I wondered if I'd have time once we were dressed, or whether I should wait until tomorrow.

I regretted my choice of knickers for the day as soon as I went to put them on. They were still damp from our exercise, and besides, I felt a little self-conscious slipping into something fluffy and pink with Peter and Lawrence still in the room. I needn't have worried however, as far as Lawrence was concerned. To my amazement, once he had on his knickers, he slipped his bra and breast forms back on, and proceeded to put on a girl's school jumper and skirt.

"Are you sure about that?" I asked him bluntly.

He looked at me defiantly. "Yes," he asserted. "You wore the same last Friday remember?"

"I know," I acknowledged. "But I had a reason. I was going to be interviewed and photographed for the paper. Why are you doing it now?"

"Because I want to!" he snapped, stepping into some sensible girl's shoes. He put his wig back on, and went over to one of the mirrors, and started applying some make up to himself. I shook my head. Lawrence was certainly having less trouble coming to terms with his feminine side than I was.

Peter and I were ready, and I could tell from his movements that he intended to leave before Lawrence had finished his face. Maybe this was my opportunity to tackle him further about Janet.

"We'll see you later then Lawrence," I said.

"Lucy," he replied tartly. "Okay. Have fun!"

We opened the door, and walked out into the sunlight. "What did you think of cheerleading then?" I asked, as we ambled across the playing field.

"It was hard work," Peter replied. "But quite good fun I suppose."

"Yeah," I agreed. The subject of Janet was obviously not going to spontaneously arise, so I decided to chance my arm. "You know we were talking about Janet earlier," I ventured.

"Yes,"

"Well, I think she fancies you." I blurted out.

"Fancies me?" he said, stopping, and staring at me with disbelief. "What makes you think that?"

I felt myself blushing a little. "Well, she told me so; more or less." I confessed. He frowned, and started walking forward again. "She sort of wants to go out with you," I continued. "I said I'd ask you and let her know what you said."

He stopped again and stared at me. "She couldn't be bothered to ask me herself then?"

"I think she's a bit shy," I volunteered.

He shook his head, and continued moving forward. We had nearly reached the school buildings before I decided to press him further. "So what should I say to her?" I asked.

"Tell her I'll think about it," he replied, without turning to look at me. "If she wants, she can come along at the end of cheerleading practice tomorrow, and I'll let her know."

"Okay," I said, to his disappearing back. I breathed a sigh of relief. There was at least one legacy of the weekend I had managed to clear up. I wasn't sure how Janet would take his answer, but at least I had managed to get hold of one for her.

I turned to walk along the corridor, and immediately bumped into Anita. "Oh hi!" she said. "How did the cheering go?"

I shrugged. "We weren't all that good. I'm not sure we've got any co-ordination."

She smiled. "Well never mind. You've got tomorrow to practice as well haven't you? I bet you all looked cute in the uniforms though!"

"They were very short."

"Yes," she said, with a light in her eyes. "I bet they were. And with legs like yours, you must have looked marvellous."

"I doubt it," I mumbled.

"Anyway," she went on. "How do you fancy coming around to my house tonight? We could play a few records," she paused and winked. "Or something."

The memories of Saturday night came flooding back to me, and I was drawn to promising her a repeat performance. However, I knew that Liz had already said she was coming around to see me that evening. Somehow that pull seemed stronger suddenly, as well as being the former.

"I can't," I said, blushing a little at my two-timing nature. "I've got something on."

Anita's face immediately turned angry. "What do you mean you've got something on? I want you to come around to my place!"

"Well I can't," I insisted.

Her lips pressed tighter together. "I see," she snarled. "I suppose it's because you'd have to be Sarah is it?"

"No," I responded. "It's not that. I don't mind being Sarah. It's just that I've got something else to do. Sorry."

She looked at me with drawn brows. "All right," she said at last. "But don't expect me to ask again." And with that she stomped off in the opposite direction from the one I was heading.

I bit my lip. There seemed no way that I could keep Liz a secret from Anita for much longer, and I was by no means sure how she would take it. Still, that could wait for another day, I thought, as I shrugged to myself, and walked back to class.

The rest of the day at school passed without incident. Anita was missing from the journey home. Nikki told me that she had skived off early, and in a way, I was relieved. I still loved her, I thought to myself, but somehow I loved Liz more, or at least, in a different way.

I walked in through the door, and saw my Mum in the kitchen. I said hello, and walked through to see what she was cooking for tea. It was steak and kidney pie. I immediately thought of the calorific content of this, and opened my mouth to complain, but then held myself back. I wasn't going to be wearing a skirt any more, so I needn't worry so much about my weight and the size of my behind.

I picked up a magazine from the kitchen table, and began to flick through it. It was a woman's magazine, but I didn't think my Mum would mind me reading it. I have to confess, it didn't occur to me to offer to help with the cooking.

"I washed your denim skirt, and put it back in your bag," she suddenly announced, as I was reading an article on how to keep my man. I looked up immediately; the denim skirt; she wasn't supposed to know about that.

"Oh, thanks." I said blithely.

"I washed the other stuff from the weekend as well," she continued. "You've certainly got a lot of girl's knickers; and tights."

I began to get nervous, wondering where this was heading. "Yeah," I said, trying to sound absently.

"And I didn't see any boy's stuff that you might have worn over the weekend."

Now we were getting to the crunch. I had foolishly left my weekend bag in my room, full of knickers and tights, and a couple of bras for that matter. I hadn't really given any thought to washing them, but I should have guessed my Mum would have gone through them to check.

"No, I'd sorted that out before," I lied.

She looked at me disbelievingly. "Are you sure?" she asked. "I did all the washing I could find, and there were no underpants or socks anywhere."

I felt my colour begin to rise. Deep inside, I knew that one of the reasons behind my resolve never to wear a skirt again stemmed from a reluctance to face my Mum and Dad about it.

"I must have misplaced them." I said, my voice sounding tight. "I'll have a look upstairs in a minute."

She looked me firmly in the eye. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

My face felt hot, and must have been scarlet. "No, I don't think so," I said.

Her gaze continued. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I said, my eyes falling to the ground.

Her eyes continued to bore into me. She was not going to be deflected. "Well shall I tell you what I think is going on?" she said.

"If you want," I replied, trying to sound disinterested.

"Well I'd rather you told me yourself," she went on, with a note of disappointment.

I raised my eyes to meet hers again. Dare I tell her what had gone on over the weekend?

"From what I can see, you must have been wearing girl's underwear all weekend," she announced. "I know about Friday, that accounts for some of what was in your bag, but unless you were wearing eight pairs of knickers that day, then there's something going on."

It was a fair cop. I was still routinely wearing two pairs of knickers at once, one over my tights, and one underneath, as Anita had first taught me. What with the evenings as well, eight was probably about the right number. Still I couldn't bring myself to confess however.

"Well I don't think you're hiring me out as a laundry service to all your girlfriends," she went on. "So there must be something else to all this. What is it?"

I shook my head, but could find no voice.

She came across, and put her hand on my shoulder. "Steve, you know we love you don't you? Both your Dad and me, no matter what."

Oh God, I thought, this must be the well rehearsed is our only son gay speech. I nodded in response.

"If you're," she hesitated, "experimenting with wearing girl's stuff, then that's okay. I'd just like to know."

I paused for a long time before summoning the strength to reply. "Well I am a bit," I mumbled. "It was good fun when I did it for the contest, so I thought I'd try it out a bit more."

She looked at me with concern. "And do you like it?" she finally asked.

This was a question I'd hardly dare ask myself since Liz had made me dream about babies and white weddings. "I don't know," I said. "It's got its good points.

She took her hand off my shoulder, and moved around so she could see me. "And what do your friends think of you doing it?"

I shrugged. "They're okay with it I think," I said. "Some of the girls even like it."

She nodded sagely. "Like Liz I suppose?" she demanded.

I nodded in reply.

"And Anita?"

"Yes, she's okay with it as well," I went on.

There was another pause. "And what about Sue, the one you stayed with on Friday night?"

This list of my female friends was really making me sound a tart. "Yes, she's happy about it as well." I replied.

"And what about your job? What do they think of you turning up dressed as a girl?"

I blushed even deeper. "It's all right," I said at last. "They think I'm a girl anyway. I wouldn't get the job if I weren't. It's a woman's clothes shop."

She looked at me, and shook her head. "I wondered if you were working as a girl," she muttered. "I don't know, you could get yourself into trouble with all this," she went on. "Especially when you get older."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, you're all right now. I mean, when I saw you all dressed up on Thursday night, it was a bit of a shock, but you made a pretty realistic girl. And on Friday morning you looked even better if anything. But once you get a bit older it's going to be harder and harder to stop people realising you're really a boy." She shook her head again.
"Well maybe it's just as well I'm trying it out now," I suggested.

She rolled her eyes. "I suppose you could say that." She looked at me with her piercing gaze again. "Do you intend to carry on then?"

"I don't know," I replied, honestly. "I might do."

"Well at least be careful," she warned me. "If you lead a boy on, and he finds out, you could find yourself really beaten up."

"I wouldn't do that!" I gasped. "I'm not interested in boys."

She looked a little appeased by this statement, although something in her eyes suggested that she didn't entirely believe it.

"I'm not Mum. I'm sort of going out with Liz, you know that."

She looked at me again. "Yes I suppose you are."

"Are you going to tell Dad?" I asked, after an awkward pause.

"Good heavens no!" she exclaimed. "He'd go ballistic. But you be careful to make sure he doesn't see you dressed up again. He was alright about the contest and stuff, but if you do it again, he'll soon put two and two together."

"Yes Mum. I'll be careful." I assured her.

She sat down next to me. "So tell me about some of the things you wore over the weekend then," she said, in a chummy voice.

I found myself telling her about the gypsy skirt I'd worn with Sue on Friday night, the shop uniform, and the girls' night out Saturday. She showed a renewed interest, and shook her head in disapproval when I told her how short the red dress had been. My embarrassment disappeared as I went into more detail, and explained that the denim skirt was just a standby I used when there was nothing else available. She asked if she could see me in it, and I almost stood to go and put it on there and then. I suddenly remembered my resolve not to wear skirts, however, and told her she could perhaps see me in it later, because Liz was coming around.

I got the potatoes ready, while she did other things as we talked about hemlines, and tops. It was really good; one of the best times I had spent with my mother since I was very small. She seemed to enjoy it too, and it was something of a shame that my Dad got back before we had really finished our debate on the relative merits of tights and stockings. We sat down for our family meal, and talked about other things once he had arrived.

We had hardly finished when Liz arrived. She came through, and while Mum and I tidied away the dishes, had a long chat with my Dad about football, and the relative merits of one system of play against another. They seemed happy enough, so I washed up, while Mum dried the dishes; no automatic dishwasher for us in those days.

"Does anyone want a coffee?" I suggested, once all the dishes were done.

"Yes I think I would!" said Liz, smiling at me.

"Me too," my Dad added, and then turning to Liz. "He'd make someone a lovely wife one day wouldn't he?"

Liz turned to grin at me again, as I blushed furiously. How did she know what flashed involuntarily through my mind every time I thought of her? I made the coffee, and dutifully place the cups for the two of them. They nodded a vague acknowledgement, but were now furiously debating the offside rule.

As time went by, I wondered if I was ever going to get my drive with Liz, and more importantly, our stop. I had been wearing this ridiculous and uncomfortable pair of knickers all day for her benefit, and rather than taking me off somewhere to enjoy them, she was chatting about football instead.

Eventually I could take it no longer. "You said something about going for a drive?" I asked, as a gentle reminder.

This seemed to bring her back to her senses. "Oh yeah!" she exclaimed. "God, look at the time! It's nearly seven o'clock. Come on then, let's do it," she said, standing up.

"Good to see you again Liz," my Dad told her, as we left.

"Make sure you get him back for nine," my Mum warned Liz as we walked out of the door. "Otherwise you'll have me to deal with."
"I will; I promise," Liz told her, and, taking my arm, led me off to her car.

We drove a little out of town, and parked up. As usual we were wrestling with our tongues within seconds, and spasms of joy ran up and down my body from the first moment. She held my head tenderly in her hand, as her tongue gently slipped in and out of my mouth, caressing my lips, teeth and gums on its journeys.

I wondered how I could broach the subject of my knickers with her, without appearing too forward. In one of our stops for air, and to recover our equilibrium, I decided on the direct approach.

"You know those knickers you brought me?" I said, teasingly.

"Oh yeah!" she replied, enthusiasm in her voice.

"Well I tried them on today."
"Oh you should have let me see!" she complained.

"Why?" I asked.

She looked at me with lights dancing in her eyes. "Why do you think?" she countered. "Because I bet you look as sexy as anything in them!" Her face fell into disappointment. "I'm really sad you didn't let me see them," she said glumly.

"Are you?" I said, with mock sympathy in my voice. She nodded.

I leant a little closer to her. "Well actually," I whispered. "I'm still wearing them now."

The effect was electric. Liz leapt on top of me, and kissing me furiously, gently, but insistently, began to undo my trousers. I made no move to resist; in fact, my body, acting of its own accord, writhed into a series of positions to make her task easier. She undid my flies, and slipped her hand in, gently massaging the material of the knickers. She grunted in pleasure, and I felt myself let out a soft, but meaningful sigh. Then she was kissing me again, and again.

"You can," I began, and found myself lost for the right words. "Do it if you want."

Her eyes gazed powerfully into mine, and I knew that she desired exactly the same as me. She shook her head however, and moved away. "Not until you're sixteen little Princess."

Disappointment flooded through me, my mind as bereft as my body. "I don't mind," I said quietly, and trying to look inviting.

She looked at me again, and I wanted her eyes to swallow me up. "But the law does," she said, shaking her head again. "You'd get me put into prison. I'm sorry, but we'll have to wait."

The disappointment must have shown on my face, and I felt my lips pouting. She smiled at me. "But what I will do," she whispered. "Is kiss every inch of your pretty little body."

And she was as good as her word, starting with my fingers, and working her way around. I was in heaven, and lay back with my eyes shut, and my mind floating. It was a real shock when she stopped, after what had only seemed a few minutes, and said. "Yikes! It's five past nine. I'd best get you back before your Mum sends out an armed posse to get me."

So we drove back home. I announced our return briefly, and then returned to be kissed again on the doorstep for another ten minutes, before eventually allowing Liz to go off to her car. I watched her drive down the street, and skipped up to my bedroom, feeling more than a little pleased with myself.

  

  

  

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