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Bobby's Story - Chapter 14
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.erotica
From: [email protected].org (Jon Grossberg)
Subject: Bobbi's Story (chapter 14)
Organization: Somewhere just far enough out of Toronto
Date: Wed, 6 May 1992 04:15:12 GMT
Approved: [email protected]
Message-ID: <[email protected]>
Sender: [email protected] (Evan Leibovitch)
Lines: 1019
Archive-Name: bobbi-14
(Note: the original author of these stories prefers to remain anonymous)
O N T H E J O B
I probably should have been sleepy like all the others around me, but I
was wide awake, and feeling good. Edith noticed it too. "You seem
chipper this morning," she said when the racket of a subway train on
the other track had faded enough for her to be heard, "but I guess you
should be for your first day on a new job." I smiled a broad smile
back at her. "My first day on my first job," I replied, adding in a
whisper only she could hear, "...as a girl!"
It was Monday morning, and Edith and I were on the station platform
waiting for a subway train to take us into Manhattan. Edith was going
to her job at the department store, and I was on my way to my first day
as a receptionist for the chemical company. Saying that I was excited
about it would have been a gross understatement. I was floating on a
cloud. By next Monday morning I might be just as bored and sleepy at
the drudgery of going to work like this every day as the rest of the
people around me, but today was something special. This was my first
ever, regular, full-time job as a woman. If I could hold this job, or
one like it, for the year of my Real Life Test, and live full-time as a
woman in my off hours, the psychologist would certify me as a candidate
for surgery, and Dr Benjamin could work his magic with the scalpel to
let me be all the woman I could be in this life. This was a very im-
portant day for me.
The subway train soon arrived, and the crush of the crowd swept me
aboard. There were no seats, but that was normal for that time of day.
I took hold of a grab-iron, and held on while the train lurched its way
through the tunnels toward the heart of The City. My coat was open,
and I could see a couple of the men giving me a pretty good looking
over. I did not mind giving them a little entertainment in that way to
brighten up their morning. I had not worn one of my mini-skirts, or
anything like that this morning, but my outfit was still sexy enough in
a businesslike sort of way.
I was wearing a burgundy dress that I had bought over the weekend for
the occasion. It was made of a clingy, but velvet-like material that
let it hug my curves in all the right places. The top had a high
neckline that could have seemed almost austere, but the soft lines of
the shoulders, and the roundness of the curve over my breasts, toned
that down just the right amount. The short cap-sleeves gave it all a
sexy look, and the hemline of the skirt being about an inch above my
knees helped with that too. This was all set off with black, patent-
leather belt, bag, and heels. The looks I was getting from the men in
the subway car told me I had done well. I felt good about myself too.
Edith and I got off at the same stop to change trains, but she headed
for the downtown train to take her to the area of the department store
while I went uptown to Park Avenue and the chemical company. It was a
ritual that we would play out on our way to work each morning for a
long time. "Good luck," Edith shouted over the interminable din of
trains and people in the subway station. "I want to hear all about
your first day when you get home tonight," she added. "Thanks!," I
replied. "I'll see you then.
We parted company, and I took the uptown local on the Lexington Avenue
Line. There were no seats left on this train either, but I only had to
ride to the next stop anyway. I did, however, wonder how the people
who were in the seats got them. Were they permanent residents of that
subway car, or did they go down to the yard before dawn to board the
train prior to its starting that morning? I do not think I have ever
seen an open seat during the commuting rush hours in the subway. I
only wish I knew the magic words that would let me occupy one of them
once in a while. It is no fun having to stand in high-heels on the way
home from work on a hot August day with the crowd pressing around you
on a train that has stopped for some unknown reason in the tunnel under
the East River, and feeling the perspiration sticking your clothes to
your body, with some old man in a tattered suit pressed against you
while he admires the view down your cleavage with obvious and lecherous
delight, and unknown hands cop feels of your ass from behind. Being a
woman is not all silk and lace all of the time.
It only took a few minutes to get to get to the stop where I got off,
and I joined the press of the crowd that flowed out of the station to
the street above. The morning was cool and clear, and it felt good to
be out of the subway. I had a few blocks to walk to the office build-
ing where I now worked, and I got a few more looks from the men that I
passed along the way. That used to bother me the first few times I was
out in public as a woman, but now it was just a matter of course. I
used to be afraid that someone had seen something that had told them I
was not totally the woman I presented myself to be, but now I was con-
fident that the only thing that could give me away was safely tucked in
my panties, back between my legs, and up into my crotch. I liked all
the looks I got from those men. They were real validation that I was
well on my way to becoming all the woman I could be in this life.
I soon crowded into an elevator in the office building along with a
number of people who were about to become my co-workers at the chemical
company. I looked them over as we rode upward toward the floor where I
was to meet Paul to start my new job, and wondered if I would be wor-
king directly with any of them. A few looked mildly interesting, but
most were the typical New York City office worker type, secretaries
just out of business courses in high school, nondescript clerks just
marking time until they retired to social security and cab driving to
make ends meet no matter how far in the future that was, young manage-
ment trainees trying to look like corporate executives behind their
pimples, long-haired callow youths from the mailroom trying to be Hip-
pies, and one gentleman in a custom tailored suit who was probably at
least a department manager, if not a vice-president. He spent most of
the ride looking me over, and the expression on his face said that he
liked what he saw.
The elevator doors finally opened on the floor I wanted, and I stepped
off. I let my hips wiggle for the benefit of my executive friend from
the elevator as I walked away, and I was sure he would notice the ges-
ture even through my coat from the way he had been watching me on the
ride up from the first floor. I liked giving him a little show. A
girl can always use a few friends in high places.
It was quarter of nine, and the receptionist for the personnel area had
not yet arrived. I took a seat in the reception area, and settled down
to wait. Two older women soon joined me as did three young men. I as-
sumed that they were also starting new jobs that day, and that was con-
firmed when the receptionist finally did arrive, and took us into a
small classroom behind the reception area. After a few minutes, the
opened, and in walked Paul. He went straight to the front of the room,
and hardly looked at me at all. He obviously did not want it known
that we knew each other, so I made no indication of it either. He
cleared his throat, and started his pitch.
"Good morning," Paul said, "and welcome to our company. I think I,
err... interviewed most of you, so I know, err... a few of you. My
name is Paul, and I, err... will give you your orientation. Please
feel, err... free to ask any questions you like. This will take, err..
about an hour, and then I'll take, err... each of you to your job area
to, err... meet your boss and co-workers. We have, err... a little
movie about our, err... company, so let's get started with, err...
that."
Paul walked to the back of the room, turned out the lights, and started
the projector. The machine rattled to life, and started presenting the
wonderful world of the chemical business to us. The film would never
have won an Academy Award in any category, but I found just watching it
exciting. The premise that chemicals are good for us stretched only a
thin veil over the facts of what those chemicals were doing to the
planet, and the quality of life for those beings that live on it, but
that did not seem to matter that morning. I am not always so callous
about such things, but the most important thing for me was that I now
had a real job as a woman, and was being accepted as the female I real-
ly was by all and sundry. That was all I could, or wanted to think
about.
The show soon ended, and Paul turned the lights back on. He walked to
the front of the room again, and said, "That should have, err... given
all of you a pretty good idea of what your, err... company does. Now
let's go over a few of the, err... necessary rules that we have here."
Paul explained all about things like starting times, quitting times,
lunch hours, break times, telephone etiquette, dress code, time sheets,
medical benefits, and all the little details of company procedures and
policy that we would have to know to do our jobs properly. When he was
finished I noticed that a number of other people had entered the room.
"That's all I, err... have to say for now," Paul said. "These people,
and I will, err... escort you to your new job stations. Please wait
until your name is called, err... and go with the person who calls it.
Bobbi, err... you will come with me."
I rose, and followed Paul out of the room while others called other
names. Paul picked up a file folder on the way out, and escorted me to
the elevator. Luckily, we were alone in it. "That's a pretty typical
morning for, err... me," Paul said when the doors closed. "Look, we
only have a minute, err... to talk privately here. I didn't mean to be
rude by, err... ignoring you, but we don't want gossip all over, err...
the company. I'll get you settled in, and then, err... I'll call you
later. Don't worry, err... about anything. You'll like your new boss,
and you'll, err... do just fine. Let me know, err... if you need any-
thing." I thanked Paul just as the doors opened on the fourth floor.
This was where I now worked. Paul led the way off the elevator, and
over to the receptionist's desk in the waiting area. This was about to
become my desk.
The girl at the receptionist's desk looked up when Paul approached, and
he asked her to tell the head of the traffic department that we were
there. The girl made a call, and told us to go right in. Paul led the
way back through the office. I got a few more looks as we passed by
the rows of desks where the traffic clerks worked. There were a number
of pleasantly lustful looks, but most were more looks of curiosity than
anything else. They know Paul as the Personnel Manager, so I was ob-
viously a new employee. They were just inspecting the newcomer to
their midst. I sort of inspected them right back. I wanted to know
who I would be working with too.
A secretary greeted Paul by name when we approached her desk, and she
got up to open the door to the office beyond for us. She put her head
in to announce our arrival, and then stepped aside to let us pass. In-
side a man of definite corporate bearing sat behind a large desk. He
was in his late fifties, but looked somewhat younger, although the
touch of distinguished grey hair around the temples did rather give his
age away. He appeared to be athletic, and quite muscular from what I
could see of his arms through his starched, white shirt. His face was
angular, but very handsome with a nice smile for us in greeting. He
looked like the sort of man I would nor mind working under in any sense
of the words. This job could be fun with someone like him for a boss.
I could easily get used to taking orders from him.
"Mr Saxon," Paul said, "I'd like, err... you to meet your new recept-
ionist. This, err... is Bobbi." Before Paul could say more the man
rose, and extended his hand to mine in greeting. "Call me Bill," he
said. "I'm the vice-president of traffic here, but I don't stand on
formality. Would you like to sit down, so we can get acquainted?" I
did very much want to get better acquainted with him. I also did not
want him to let go of my hand. His grip was firm without being hard,
but with a gentleness and strength in it that made me tingle. I looked
at his left hand, and did not see a wedding ring on it. A few thoughts
flew through my mind that had to be quickly dismissed. A man like this
would want someone who was already all the woman she could be, and
besides, he was old enough to be my father. Still, I found him very
attractive, and I knew that would make for an interesting working re-
lationship.
"Thank you, Bill," I said, and daintily deposited myself in a chair in
front of his desk. "Thank you, Paul," Bill said taking the file folder
that Paul had been carrying. "I think Bobbi and I can take things from
here, and you can get back to your own work." Paul had a strange look
on his face, and I am sure some of it was a bit of jealousy. He star-
ted as if to say something, but stopped, and just took his leave of
Bill and I, closing the office door behind him. Bill and I were alone
now.
"I hope you don't mind me getting rid of him that way," said Bill, re-
turning to his desk, and taking his seat behind it, "but I like to get
to know the people that work with me here, and I find that's often dif-
ficult with Personnel buzzing around. He did, of course, tell you what
the job was all about?" Bill was looking me over in much the same way
as other men had been doing all morning, but there was a lot more gen-
tleness here. There was lust in his eyes, but there was a note of re-
spect too. I felt comfortable talking to him.
"Yes," I replied. "He told me that I would be your receptionist, and
do a little typing as well. Are there any other duties I should know
about?" Bill let a playfully evil leer cross his face when I said
that, but made it disappear quickly. I really had not meant anything
by it, but it had come out as if I had. I made a mental note to be
careful of my choice of words in the future. Women have to be careful
of things like that. "No," said Bill, composing himself, "no other
duties that I can think of now. We'll see how things work out as you
go along. I am a firm believer in promoting from within, so you will
have the opportunity to advance if you wish. Now let's just get to
know you."
We chatted for about half an hour about a lot of things. He was gen-
uinely interested in the people who worked in his department, and was
insistent that they worked with, and not for, him. He asked about
everything I did without prying too deeply into my personal life. I
told him that I lived at home with my mother, Edith, and grandmother,
Sarah, and about my modeling jobs and dance lessons. I did, however,
omit telling him about certain parts of my life, and certain anatomical
details of my body that I thought would not add any worthwhile details
to the story. "It sounds like you want to be an entertainer someday,"
Bill said to all that I told him. "Maybe," I said, "but right now I
just want to do this job well enough to satisfy you." That same play-
fully lecherous grin crossed his face again. "Yes," he said. "Well,
I'm sure you'll do that... in some way. Now let me get you to your
desk."
Bill pressed the intercom button on his phone, and said, "Gwen, could
you come in, please." Gwen appeared through the door seconds later.
She was Bill's personal secretary, and the woman who had let Paul and I
into the office earlier. She was in her late twenties, or about
thirty, with blonde hair and green eyes. She also had quite a nice
figure, and did as little to conceal it as I did. We were even about
the same height. "Gwen," Bill said, "will you show Bobbi to her desk,
and get her set up?" "Of course, Mr. Saxon," she replied with a del-
icate Southern drawl in her voice. She led the way back through the
office to the reception area. It was time for me to get on the job.
Gwen told the girl at the reception desk that she could go back to Per-
sonnel, and she disappeared without a word. "Okay," Gwen said, "the
desk is all your's now. Sit down, and I'll tell you how the job goes."
I pulled the chair out from the desk, and slid into it. It had a high
back unlike the other office chairs inside the department, and looked
more like Bill's chair than those others. That was part of the decor.
Each of the reception areas were decked out to look like an executive
office, so my chair and desk were very similar to the one's in Bill's
office. I guess that was supposed to impress visitors. It just meant
that I had nice furniture to work with.
"The coat closet is over there," said Gwen, pointing at a sliding door
in the wall to the right of the elevators as I faced them from my desk,
"so you'll want to put your coat in there later. The door to your left
goes into the department, and the door to your right leads into a short
hallway that comes out back by Mr. Saxon and I. His private conference
room is also off that hall. The only one's you send in that way are
people that have appointments with him. I'll give you a list of any
new appointments each day, and you enter them in the desk diary here."
Gwen went on to tell me all the details of the job, how to work the
telephones, where the Ladies Room was, and the basics of the office
gossip. It seemed like a nice place to work.
"Let me know if y'all need anything," Gwen said, feeling comfortable
enough with me to let even more of her Southern accent come through.
"I sort of act as office manager here too, so y'all can call me if you
have a problem. Maybe we can have lunch later this week too. We're a
fairly close group in this here department. Everybody's real nice.
Even the office wolf is really just a big, old pup dog. He tries to
come on real strong, but y'all can wrap him around your little finger."
That sounded like someone that I should have advance notice about.
"Who's that?," I asked. "That's Vinny," Gwen answered. "He tries to
come on like Don Juan, but he's all talk. All the girls just string
him along. It's a game he likes."
"I think y'all can handle things here now," Gwen said, heading for the
door back into the office. "Call me if y'all need help," she said over
her shoulder, adding with a wink, "and watch out for Vinny." With that
she disappeared into the office, and I was left alone at my desk. I
spent the first few minutes arranging things. It was more just nervous
energy than anything else, but it gave me something to do. I would not
really know where I wanted things until I got into a routine with the
work I would have to do, but putting things in the desk where I thought
I wanted them made it that much more "my" desk, and made me feel good.
Besides, neither Mr. Saxon or any of his managers had any appointments
that morning, so apart from answering a few telephone calls to take a
message for someone who was away from their desk, I had little else to
do to start with.
About eleven o'clock a young man appeared at the door from the inner
office carrying a sheaf of papers. He was not overly tall, and looked
a little like the actor, Al Pacino. He had black hair, dark eyes,
strong looking hands, and a cute sort of boyish grin on his face. He
was actually quite attractive, and I wondered if he was the one Gwen
had told me about. I would soon find out.
"Hi!," he said in a short and matter-of-fact way, his voice echoing
from an Italian neighborhood in Brooklyn. "Gwen said you should be
able to type this for me. I know you're new here, so if you need me to
explain anything, just let me know. My name's Vinny, and I understand
your's is Bobbi. I'm pleased to meet you, and maybe we could talk
sometime. There's a lot to learn here, so maybe I could help." He was
really being very sweet, no matter how fast he talked, and I rather
liked my first impression of him. "When do you need this?," I asked.
"It's only three pages, so I was sort of hoping for this afternoon, but
tomorrow morning would be good too," he answered. "You'll have it this
afternoon," I replied. "I'll call you when it's done, okay?"
Vinny seemed to like that very much, and it was also obvious that he
liked looking at me. He had a look that went right through my clothes,
and made me feel positively naked before him. I actually did not mind
that sort of look from any man. I just hoped that such looks, and my
enjoyment of them, would not cause a problem in a business situation.
I would have to watch out for that.
"That's great," Vinny said. "Call me when you're done. I'll be wait-
ing." Then he went back into the office. I turned on the electric
typewriter, and got out some paper to get on with typing up Vinny's
report. I think I would have liked to talk more with him, but now it
was time that I got on the job.
The rest of the day was rather uneventful. I had lunch on my own at
the counter of a coffee shop on Lexington Avenue. The chemical company
had a cafeteria, but I just felt like walking outside for a bit. I
missed having Edith as a lunch partner. Eating lunch alone is boring.
I had spent the morning at my desk in the reception area alone, and I
just wanted someone to talk and be sociable with. I would have to find
someone to fill that role, but who? Gwen did not seem a likely candid-
ate, being busy most of the time tending to Mr. Saxon's needs, and
Vinny, while he might be eager, was not what I had in mind. I was sure
that someone would fit in, though. I could always find friends.
It had been quite a long time since I did any typing, but somehow I got
through Vinny's report. I made sure that I read it over a few times to
be sure that I had no mistakes in it. It actually was sort of inter-
esting reading in a way. I knew nothing about how a traffic department
operated at the time, but there always seemed to be huge stacks of
paper everywhere. Vinny's report was the outline of a plan to elimin-
ate a lot of that paper by using the computer to communicate with their
customers and carriers. It sounded like science fiction to me, but it
was well written, and seemed like something Vinny had been working on
for a long time. Vinny was going to go a long way with this company.
"Hello?," said Vinny into his telephone when I called him. "This is
Bobbi out at reception," I replied. "Your report is done if you would
like to pick it up." I could hear the usual din of the traffic office
through the telephone. In a way, I was glad I was out here in the
quiet. "That's good, Bobbi," Vinny answered. "I'll be out to get it
in a minute."
About twenty minutes later Vinny appeared at the door to the reception
area. "I'm sorry, Bobbi," he said. "I wanted to come right out to get
it, but I got held up." I reached for the file folder in which I had
put the typed report and his handwritten original, saying, "That's
okay. It was just here waiting for you. I read it over to look for
mistakes, but you probably should check it yourself too. It was inter-
esting to read." Vinny looked pleased. "I'm glad you liked it," he
said. "I think it's a good concept, but now I have to convince Mr.
Saxon of it."
Vinny turned to take his papers back inside, but turned back to me, and
asked, "You know if you liked what you read so much, maybe we could
talk about it at lunch tomorrow. Is that good for you?" I wondered if
this was Vinny coming on to me, or just business, so I decided to find
out. "That would be just lovely for me," I answered sweetly. "I'll
see you tomorrow." Vinny smiled, and went back inside. We had a date.
Five o'clock and quitting time came at last, and I joined the throng of
office workers making their way down elevators, along sidewalks, and
onto busses and trains of all types to wend their way home through the
twilight. The subway train that I got on was, of course, crowded, and
I wondered if some of the people that had seats were not permanent fix-
tures in the cars. I even looked to see if I could recognize some of
them from the morning. The second train, after I changed trains at
Grand Central from the Lexington Avenue Line to the Flushing Line, was
about the same, and I wound up standing all the way home.
Edith had not yet gotten home when I arrived, but Sarah had started
dinner as she always did. I kicked off my heels, and helped her finish
up. Edith got home about twenty minutes after I did, and we all got
the food on the table together.
"So?," Edith asked after we sat down. "How did it go today?" I mun-
ched on a bit of chicken, and then answered, "Great! I think I'm go-
ing to like it there. All the people are really nice, and the work is
not hard at all. I'm the receptionist for the traffic department, and
do a little typing, so it's really easy." I went on with a lot of sil-
ly little details about office procedures, but Edith did not stop me.
I guess she knew I had to get all the small talk about the job out of
my system to get rid of all the nervous energy that had built up from
the excitement of my first day on the job.
We finished dinner, and Edith and I continued to talk all the way th-
rough the washing and drying of the dishes. We got a little into what
her day had been like too, but most of the talk was about me. It went
on even as we sat in the living room to watch television and read for
the evening. There just seemed to be so much to tell. I had thought
that I had gone through a rather uneventful day, but the telling about
it made it seem a lot more interesting. I even told Edith about Vinny.
She was interested in hearing about him, and I sort of was too.
Edith and I were happily chatting away about my first day on the job
when the telephone rang. I picked it up, and heard a deep, male voice
on the other end. "Bobbi?," the voice said. "This is your favorite
policeman, Officer Brian." It was the policeman whom I had met in Cen-
tral Park, and on the street near Dr. Benjamin's office. He had final-
ly gotten around to calling me. "I was wondering if you were free on
Thursday night," he said. "We should do that interview about police
protection we talked about, but a lowly patrolman doesn't always get
weekends or Fridays off. I was sort of hoping that we could have an
early dinner on Thursday." It did not sound like a bad idea, so I ag-
reed, saying, "Why, that would be lovely, officer. We citizens should
help the police whenever we can. Having dinner with you on Thursday
would be my pleasure.
It turned out that Brian also lived out here in Queens, so he would
pick me up at my apartment at seven o'clock. He said that he had to go
on duty early the next morning, so we would not be out very late. He
was very polite and proper when he spoke to me, and a lot less forward
than the other men I had dated. He reminded me a little of Peter like
that. He was very adamant that we would not be out late, and that I
should tell my mother not to worry. Maybe he was different in other
ways too. I wondered what it would be like to date a cop.
It was only about ten minutes after I hung up with Brian that the tele-
phone rang again. This time it was Wendy. It was not all that unusual
for her to call. We had gotten rather friendly since our meeting at my
first photo session. We had seen each other about every ten days or so
to go shopping, and talked on the telephone about once a week. I would
not say that we were close friends yet, but we were getting there. She
lived only a mile or two away from me, and while by New York City stan-
dards that was a very long way, it was close enough. "Hi, Wendy," I
said just loud enough for Edith to hear as well, so that she would know
I might be talking for a while. "What's up?"
"Oh, a little and a lot," Wendy answered with a strange note of fear
and excitement in her voice. "I've got two... things to tell you
about, okay? I think you'll like hearing about both of them, but the
second one sort of scares me a little even if it's sort of good news."
I had no idea what she was talking about. "Well, what is it then?," I
asked, totally puzzled, and trying to think of what her news could be.
"First off," Wendy started, "Tom asked me to tell you that we need you
this weekend for a shoot on the coat layout. We're going to do the
outdoor stuff in Central Park on Saturday, and in Jersey on Sunday.
Ray and I can pick you up at nine on Saturday morning, but we have to
get going by six on Sunday morning to get out to Jersey to catch a sun-
rise. If you could sleep over here on Saturday night it would be eas-
ier. How's that all for you?" Most people think modeling is glamor-
ous, but I would not call being out at six on a cold Sunday morning to
get my picture taken very glamorous. It was, however, part of the job.
"Okay," I said. "I'll be ready to go. I'll bring along some overnight
things too, What's the other news?"
"Are you sitting down?," Wendy asked. "Yes," I replied in a matter-of-
fact way. "Brace yourself for this," she continued. "I'm pregnant!"
It took a minute for the word to sink in before I said, "Pregnant?
That's wonderful! I think. Have you told Ray yet?" There was relief
in Wendy's words now. "I've told him. He is going to be a daddy, so
he should know," she said. That was a bit of a relief to me too. It
saved any possible embarrassment to either of us, since I did not now
have to ask her if Ray was the father. I was not sure how sexually
active Wendy was other than with Ray.
"We're moving in together," Wendy said, continuing the story. "Ray
says he can get us a house a little way out on Long Island, and he
wants to move there. He says The City is no place to raise HIS child.
He went all mushy when I told him." She paused for a moment. "I'll
tell you a secret," she said. "He hasn't asked me yet, but I think he
might finally want to get married. Do you want to be Maid-of-Honor?"
She giggled at this, but I could tell she was serious.
"Sure, why not?!," I replied with a giggle too. "If you really want me
to be. When are you due?" Wendy cleared her throat, and said, "The
doctor says in about seven months, so if he does want to get married, I
hope he asks quick. I want a white gown, and my clothes are getting a
little tight already. I really would like you to be Maid-of-Honor.
The only other people I know are at the studio, and I feel closer to
you than any of them. If he asks, will you do it?"
"I will," I replied, and we made girl-talk about it all for an hour. I
had not known how close Wendy felt we were, or how much she accepted me
as a fellow woman. That was all clear now, and I liked it. We would
get even closer as time went on, but right now I felt very warm inside.
My adopted "family" of friends was still growing.
The rest of the week at work was almost as quiet as my first day had
been. I started to get into a routine of things, and got to like what
I was doing. It was fun to sit at that big desk, and pretend to be
running things. Gwen kept me supplied with typing projects so I would
not get bored, and there was enough to do between them to keep me busy.
It was a very easy job. That was fine with me. This was the kind of
job I had wanted.
I even managed to have a little fun along the way. I found out that
the lack of visitors on the first day was not the normal course of
events. We usually had two or three salesmen a day coming in to see
the traffic managers and Mr. Saxon, and most of them were incorrigible
flirts. That sort of suited me well too, and I would play along with
their little games of sexual innuendo and double entente. I did, how-
ever, make sure that things did not go too far, but one or two did try
to make a serious pass at me. I put them off quickly. Games of flir-
ting were fine, but I did not want to take any chances of messing up my
job with anything like that. Besides, I still had to be careful about
even thinking of dating Straight guys until after my surgery. I know I
did not have to go to bed with them, but why add to the temptation?
The "dates" that Helen would set up for me would take care of my sexual
needs.
Lunch with Vinny on Tuesday was funny. We went to a coffee shop over
near Madison Avenue, and got a booth for just the two of us near the
back. He seemed nervous as we had walked there, and later I found out
that I was the first girl in the office that had ever agreed to go to
lunch alone with him. He seemed like he was not sure if I should take
his arm like a girlfriend, or we should walk separately like co-wor-
kers. I opted for the latter just to see what he would do.
The time in the coffee shop was even more funny. When Vinny got ner-
vous, he talked. Not just ordinary conversation, but non-stop talking.
Most of it was about business, but he also told me about the weather,
his childhood, the stock market, his mother, his job, his future, and a
hundred other things that I cannot remember. His way of getting to
know someone was to tell them everything about himself, or so it seem-
ed. I just ate my salad, and listened to all he had to say. It was
even sort of interesting, and he did let me get a few things in about
myself. He had an opinion on everything I said.
We walked back to the office after lunch, and this time I put my arm in
his. He was not sure how to interpret that, and kept his arm crooked
out, letting mine just sort of hang in it. I brushed against him a
couple of times to let him know that it was all right if he held tight-
er, and he relaxed a little. He made sure, however, that we were not
arm-in-arm when we got to the office building. I think it was so peo-
ple would not get any ideas if they saw us that way. I also think I
intimidated him a little. I sort of liked that in a girlish sort of
way. For all his bluster and flirting, Vinny was still very much a shy
little boy in a lot of ways. I was actually getting to like him.
I ate in the company cafeteria the rest of the week, and got to know a
few of the others in the traffic department. Gwen joined me one day
with another girl named Sue, who was a clerk in the department. We
spent that lunch doing a lot of office gossip, and they wanted to know
all about my lunch with Vinny. I told them most of the story. It made
for good girl-talk, and a lot of giggles. I was learning more about
what being a woman was like, and that is just what I wanted.
Quitting time on Thursday came quickly enough. I was even a little bit
excited about getting home as early as I could to meet Brian for our
date. I had reason to feel that way too. I had been out on dates with
many men, but this was really the first time that I would be going out
with a Straight guy who had no idea that I was not quite all the woman
that he thought he saw before him when he looked at me. The only other
time that I had even come close to doing something like this was with
Alan, but that was more of a quick pick-up than an actual date. To-
night with Brian was something very different. This was an actual,
public, planned-out, boy and girl date!
The hour between four and five o'clock in the afternoon dragged even
before the hands of the clock seemed to freeze at four-fifteen. Ner-
vously, I had gotten my coat out of the closet, and had it draped over
one of the chairs in the reception area for a quick getaway. "In a
hurry tonight?," asked Gwen on her way to the Ladies Room. "Sort of,"
I replied anxiously. "Y'all must be," she said. "Y'all usually aren't
a clock-watcher. Look, Mr. Saxon isn't here, and it's quiet. Y'all go
and scoot early. I'll watch the board. What's up? Y'all got a hot
date or something?" My coat was on in seconds. "Right the first
time!," I called back as I left. "I'll tell you about it at lunch to-
morrow."
I fairly flew home. Brian would be there to pick me up at seven, so I
did not have all that much time to go home, and get ready. Maybe a
girl is supposed to keep her escort waiting, but that always seemed to
be just a ruse to keep my dates interested when I thought they needed
it. I try to be on time as much as I can be, so I am usually ready at
the appointed hour, but once in a while I leave the man who is taking
me out waiting for a few extra minutes to get him concentrating on me
as he should be. Tonight, however, was not one of those times.
Sarah was a little bit surprised to see me when I came in. "You home
early," she said with an implied question in her voice. "Yes," I re-
plied. "I have a date tonight, grandma. I'm going out with a boy I
met." She smiled broadly, saying, "Good! Is nice boy, I hope. You
like him? Maybe I be a great-grandmother someday?" Sarah never really
said much, but what she did say always hit home. She also had a rather
strange, but well developed sense of humor. "Maybe," I replied coyly.
Even after the surgery, when I would become all the woman I could be in
this life, making Sarah a great-grandmother would be one of the few
womanly things that I could never do. For all the surgeon's skill in
cosmeticly constructing all the external structures of the female geni-
talia on a Transexual's body, they could not realign the biology enough
to allow her to become pregnant. I had not thought much about that up
to now.
I headed to my room to change clothes, leaving Sarah clucking to her-
self about my date. I stripped completely, slipped on my robe, tied up
my hair, and went to the bathroom to take a quick shower. Back in my
room, I got out a white lace bra, garter-belt, and panties set. Brian
would probably not get a look at these tonight, but I did want to feel
pretty. Over those went a teal blue dress that showed off my figure
well, but was not quite as tight and clingy as some of the things I
could have worn. The skirt was straight, and came to about an inch
above my knee. Sheer stockings, and belt, pumps, and bag of blue lea-
ther finished the outfit, and warm-pink lipstick, blue eye make-up, and
a gold chain about my neck completed my dressing. It was only six-
thirty, so I still had some time before Brian got here. I walked to
the living room to wait for him.
Edith was home by that time, and I could hear her out in the kitchen
with Sarah, getting their dinner ready. I sat on the sofa, and thumbed
through a magazine to wait for Brian to arrive. I hoped he would not
be late.
I was not sure why at that time, but I was really looking forward to
this date. Part of it was the excitement of being attractive enough as
a woman to have a very Straight, and rather attractive himself, man
want to take me out. That would almost have been exciting enough on
its own, but there was also something else that I could not explain.
Brian was a handsome man, so I thought that might be it. I had only
seen him in uniform up to then, but I could tell that under the uniform
was a lot of man. He was tall, and must have worked-out in a gym at
least two or three times a week because he had the sort of big, strong
looking, and solidly muscular arms that a girl could easily loose her-
self in. The trouble was that even after I thought about all of that,
there still seemed to be more that attracted me to him. Maybe I would
find out what it was tonight.
"Hi!," Edith said, interrupting my reverie as she came into the living
room. "I see you're all ready for your date. When is he picking you
up?" I put down the magazine. "Should be in about ten minutes," I an-
swered, looking at the clock on a bookshelf. "Bobbi, I need to ask a
bit of a delicate question," Edith said haltingly. "You can always ask
me anything, mom," I replied. "You should know that." Edith nodded,
and said, "Well... This is difficult to phrase for me, but does this
boy know all about you? I mean, from the way you describe him, and his
being a policeman, and all... he seems like a man who would only date
women," I said finishing the sentence for her. "I didn't mean it that
harshly," she said. "I know," I replied. "Let me explain."
"Brian doesn't know about that part of me," I started, with a serious
tone to my voice. "I know that might be a little dangerous, but I will
cut things off if they go too far in that direction, and this is our
first date, so nothing like that is going to happen. I am going to a
psychologist as part of the therapy leading up to my operation, and
part of that therapy is to get used to doing things as I will be doing
for the rest of my life. That could include a casual date with a
Straight guy without any sex involved once in a while. I just have to
get used to being what I am, mom. I'll be careful. I promise."
Edith thought for a moment, and then said, "All right, but you be care-
ful. You're not having him come up here this time, are you?" I shook
my head, saying, "No, not on a first date. I don't want him to get the
wrong idea. I'll bring him home to meet my mother another time." We
both giggled at this, but just then the building intercom rang. It was
Thomas, the doorman, announcing that a gentleman caller was awaiting me
in the lobby. I got my coat, and headed out the door. "Don't be too
late," Edith called after me. "I won't, mom," I replied.
I actually felt nervous riding in the elevator down to the lobby. That
was not normal for me. Dates never really bothered me, but this one
felt different. The elevator doors finally opened on the first floor,
and as I stepped out, I could see Brian talking to Thomas. They both
looked up, and the expression on their faces told me that my outfit was
a success. "You look great!," Brian said as I approached. "Thank you,
officer," I said in a coquettish way, and with a smile. "I'm glad very
you're pleased." Thomas held the door for us, and we went to Brian's
car. It was parked right at the curb, so Thomas was right there to get
the door for me again. "Some service," Brian said as we pulled away
into the traffic. "I didn't know you lived in such a swanky building."
Brian drove the big Ford out onto Astoria Boulevard, and headed east
through Jackson Heights. We soon turned onto a side street, and parked
near the corner. "This place might not be as high class as you're used
to," said Brian, "but it's good food. I'll try to do better the next
time." Suddenly I realized that he was trying to impress me. No man
I had dated had ever done that before in a serious way. I had always
been either just a pretty bit of female fluff to decorate their arm, or
a rented commodity to entertain them for the evening no matter what
they were like. Even Peter had not treated me as if he had to be spe-
cial for me to want to be with him. This was a new experience, and I
liked it! "I'm sure it will be just fine," I said, putting my arm in
his, and still not sure of exactly where we were going.
We walked a little further along the side street, away from the boule-
vard. I had guessed that Brian took care of himself from what I had
been able to see of the way his clothes fitted him, but now with my arm
in his I could feel, first-hand so to speak, for myself the firmness of
his biceps. They did not bulge like a weight-lifter, but there was no
mistake about them being there. I found myself wishing that the SRS
was already behind me, and I no longer had any worries about letting a
Straight man seduce me. My little penis twitched in its tuck to punc-
tuate my desires. I wanted him to want me.
A few doors from where we had parked the car, Brian turned to lead us
into a small bar and restaurant with a sign above the door that read
"Little Paul's." The decor inside ran all to checkered tablecloths,
wine bottles with candles in them, and murals of Roman ruins. "I hope
you like Italian," said Brian. "It might not look like much at first,
but the food is great here." I gave his arm a little squeeze. "It
looks just wonderful," I said.
"Brian! My Irish paisano!," called a voice from over near the bar. A
short, chubby man got up from a table there, and walked toward us. He
wore a grey suit with a dark shirt and light grey tie, and looked like
a character straight out of some low-budget gangster movie. I almost
laughed when I saw him, but held that back. He was an incredible ster-
eotype.
"Hey, Brian!," he said, slapping Brian on the back, and looking me over
from head to toe. "You gonna' introduce me to the bella femina, or do
I have to steal her away from you myself? Escuse, beautiful lady," he
continued without letting Brian say anything, "Brian, he's a nice a'boy
but he forget'a his manners sometimes. You can call'a me Little Paul.
I own'a this place, but I always think there's a'something she is mis-
sing. Now you come'a here, and a'make my place beautiful for me. Let
me show you to a good a'table. Brian, he's a come too. What is you
name, beautiful lady?"
Little Paul was charming. He might sound like some sort of made-up
character, but he was a very real person. A lot of writers have used
some characters like him in their stories, but I met the prototype that
day. Maybe all of them ate in that same restaurant at one time or an-
other. He led us to a table near the wall away from the bar, and I
answered his question. "That's a beautiful name for a beautiful lady,"
he said. "You sit, and talk to mi bambino Brian while I get'a you some
vino, eh?" Brian shook his head as Little Paul walked away. "I went
to school with his daughter, and lived across the street from him, so
he thinks of me like one of his own kids. I hope you don't mind," he
said. "Not at all," I answered. "I think he's sort of cute."
Dinner and conversation with Brian was great. If I had felt that there
was something special about him before, it grew the more I got to know
about him. He was a policeman, but he was also taking courses for a
degree in criminology and law in his off hours. He had aspirations of
being more than a patrolman, and the sooner the better as far as he was
concerned. "I'd like to be in a management area with the FBI or even
the State police," he said. "I'm not sure where yet. I do like police
work, and I think I can move up the ladder that way." From the confi-
dence in his voice when he said that, I really believed that he would.
I also learned that he had a very moral upbringing. "I don't consider
myself a religious man," he said, "but I see a lot of things going on
lately that I can't agree with. That's fine if they work for other
people, but I don't want to get into that with anyone that I might want
a longer relationship with unless we are making a definite commitment.
If it's just a casual date at a bar, I might take what get's offered,
but special women deserve special treatment, and I only bring special
people here." That was his way of trying to say that he would put no
pressure on me for sex. It might seem stiff and formal when compared
to the morals of the time at the beginning of the "Sexual Revolution,"
but there was nothing very stiff or formal about Brian. He just agreed
with the moral values that he had been taught by his mother, even if he
did not share her Irish Catholic religious beliefs. He was not against
sex in any way, even before marriage, but he wanted the woman he would
share his life with to know that he respected her in every way that he
could. It was very refreshing from the other men I knew. I liked it.
Brian took me home at about eleven o'clock. "Your mom should be pleas-
ed," he said jokingly. As I was about to get out of the car at the
apartment building where I lived, he asked, "Could I see you again?,"
and put out his hand in a polite, respectful, first date handshake.
Taking the handshake, I said, "Sure!," and pulled myself close enough
to give him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled broadly as I stepped out of
the car, and passed through the door to the building that Thomas was
holding for me. "I'll call you!," I heard him shout as the glass door
closed behind me, and I waved in answer. I hoped he would call, and
very soon.
Edith was still up when I came in. "How did it go?," she asked. "Oh,
it was nice," I answered, but in my mind I said, "Dreamy!" Brian might
not have seemed like much to some, but he got to me somehow. Most of
the girls at that time would not have thought it "cool" to date a cop,
but that just did not matter to me. Brian was someone special, no mat-
ter how I looked at it, and I was having a lot of very female feelings
toward him. Only the twitching of my little penis in its tuck in my
crotch reminded me that I was not quite yet all the woman that Brian
might have wanted in a girlfriend. If I could just hold things off
until after the SRS, maybe it could still work out.
"Where should I meet you after work tomorrow?," Edith asked. "Tomor-
row?," I replied. "Aren't you in a show tomorrow night?," Edith said.
"You said that I should come to see it." I had forgotten. I guess
that my mind had been too full of thoughts of Brian. "Right!," I re-
plied. "It just slipped my mind. Let's meet at the Lord Camelot next
door to the bar. We can eat there, and the club is right next door."
The restaurant was not all that great, but it would do for a light din-
ner before I had to dance. "I'll meet you there at six," Edith said.
"I'm going to bed now." I went to bed too. I wanted to dream about
Brian.
I brought my dance things to work with me the next day, so that I could
go right to the bar from there. I had lunch with Gwen and Sue in the
cafeteria, and we discussed my date with Brian. Sue was a little tur-
ned-off by the fact that I would date a policeman, but thought that he
sounded nice anyway. She was into the counter-culture and anti-estab-
lishment movements, but I tried not to let anything she said bother me.
Being around Brian felt good, and that was that. I was falling for him
in a big way.
After work I took a taxi across town to the bar. I wanted to put my
dance things in my locker before I met Edith for dinner. The bar was
busy with its usual Friday afternoon throng of drinkers on the way home
from work. Most of these were the Bisexual men who stopped in to look
at the drag queens before they went back to their wives. They would
almost all be gone before show time, and a different crowd would come
in. "Bobbi!," a voice called out from the bar. It was Billie.
"Tina's lookin' for you," she said. "She's back in the office, so go
see her first. Okay?" I told her I would, and added, "I'm going to
have a guest for the show tonight. It's my... Well, it's a real-girl,
and she hasn't been to a place like this before. Can you get her at
one of the reserved tables?" Billie took out the seating plan, and
looked it over. "I can put her at Jerry's table. There's one seat
left, and no queens at it tonight. Okay?," she asked. Jerry was the
owner, so that would work fine, and maybe even impress Edith a little.
"Okay," I said, and started toward the office to see what Tina wanted.
"Hello, Bobbi," said Margo as I passed her at the end of the bar. "You
look lovely tonight. Are you in the show, or have you dropped out of
the chorus line already?" Some guy on the next barstool was groping
her thigh, and was working his hand up under her skirt. She did not
stop him, so I assumed that they would soon be taking a trip to the
hotel for one of special blow-jobs. "How did you know I was dropping
out"," I asked. "Oh," she replied. "I heard Tina had a replacement
for you, and I thought she told you about it." Margo was as good at
spreading gossip as she was at spreading her legs. "No she didn't," I
said with some annoyance, "but I'll ask her when I see her." I broke
off the conversation to start toward the office again. Margo and her
trick got up, and left for the hotel. At least the john would get her
while she was still reasonably sober.
Tina was sitting at the desk when I got to the office. "Come in, and
sit down," she said when I knocked. She had her feet on the desk, and
did not seem concerned that there was an open view up her skirt for
anyone who cared to look. "I've got two things to tell you," she be-
gan. "Toni and I have been talking about you, and we feel that you can
do a lot better things as a dancer than the G.G.Girls. Toni wants to
use you in some things she's got planned, but we can't have you in them
except as a real-girl. We want you to drop out of here, and let her
pick you up through the school. It's a good career move, and you can
get paid for her stuff. You'll do the show tonight, but either way,
that's your last one. What do you think?" I wanted out anyway, so I
agreed, but tossed in a comment about Margo's gossip. "I'll deal with
her," Tina said sternly.
"What's the second thing?," I asked. "Well," Tina said, looking at me
with lust in her eyes, "we just want to remind you about our sexual
proposition. We still both want you in bed." She was not going to let
up on that, and I knew that Toni would probably put the same pressure
on me at the school. "I still need to think about it," I replied.
"Think well," she said. "My cock want's another taste of that sweet
ass of yours."
I took my leave of her after that, and went to the dressing room. My
dance things were soon in my locker, and I went next door to the coffee
shop to meet Edith. I really did not want to have sex with Tina and
Toni, but I was not sure how to get out of the pressure they were put-
ting on me. I would have to find a way.
Edith was already in the Lord Camelot when I got there, and I joined
her at the table. We talked a bit about work, and a lot about Brian.
"We will have to have him over for dinner one night," Edith said.
"Okay," I replied, "but not quite yet. I don't want him to think I'm
rushing things by having him meet my mother right away." This produced
some giggles from both of us. I told her about the stageside table I
had arranged for her to sit at, and the fact that since the show was
not until ten o'clock, she would be alone in the bar for a while.
"That's all right," she said. "I know what to do in a bar." Knowing
Edith, I had no doubt that she did.
I did not have to be in the dressing room to get ready for the show
until eight o'clock, so Edith and I got to chat for a couple of hours
over dinner and coffee. It should be no surprise that most of the talk
centered around Brian. Soon enough, however, it was time to get back
to the bar. Edith's reaction when we walked in was a little more re-
served than I might have expected. She seemed totally nonplussed by
the fact that out of the group of about one-hundred individuals in the
club, a group that appeared to be a balanced mix of men and women, she
was one of only about six biological females that were there.
I walked her through the crowd to the back bar where Emma was holding
court, and introduced her. "If you're a friend of Bobbi's, you get the
first drink free," said Emma. "I'm more than Bobbi's friend," replied
Edith. "I'm her mother." In all the time I had known Emma, I had
never seen her be surprised by anything, but that seemed to shake her.
"You're her mother?," Emma asked. "Yes," Edith answered, "and I'm very
proud of my daughter. I came to see her dance tonight." I had to get
backstage, so I asked Emma to make sure that Edith got seated at Jer-
ry's table. I left them talking to each other like old friends. I had
to get on the job for the last time here.
Most of the girls were already in the dressing room by the time I got
there, but Patty was conspicuous by her absence. I hoped she was just
late, and not taking the night off. I was friendly with all of the
girls in a sort of general way, but Patty was the only one I act-ually
thought of as a friend in the real sense of the word. I did not want
my last show as one of the G.G.Girls Chorus Line to go by without
seeing her. I changed quietly in my part of the room with only a few
remarks to the others. It was now almost nine o'clock, and still no
Patty.
Then a commotion broke out in the hall. Hardly a night went by here
without some sort of shouting match, so that was not an unusual thing
to happen. With all the Pre-Op and Post-Op Transexuals around in vari-
ous levels of hormone therapy, things were bound to get a little crazy
as body chemistry fluctuated all over the place, swinging moods on an
emotional trapeze. We all just stopped to listen, so we could tell if
it was someone we knew, if a fight was breaking out, if someone had
pulled a knife, or if someone was about to pull a gun. Arguments were
daily, fights were weekly, knives were drawn about once a month, and
the bar was good for about one gun incident a year. I do not recall
anyone ever getting seriously hurt in the bar. That sort of mayhem was
reserved for the street outside. The Gilded Grape was our protection
from it all. Outside, the world was bent on mutual destruction, but in
here, we had a relative degree of safety. The weapons might be bran-
dished, but never used. It was a strange state of affair.
The voices in the hall soon resolved into Tina's and a much deeper male
voice that sounded familiar, but I could not quite place. I could not
make out the first parts of the argument, but as the voices got closer,
I heard Tina say angrily, "You fucking better not be this fucking late
ever again, or I'll kick your fucking skinny whore ass off the stage!"
The deeper voice retorted, "All right! Let up on it! I told you it
wouldn't happen again, so let me get ready." The door opened, and in
stepped Patty with Tina right behind her. "Get ready, bitch!," Tina
shouted. "We'll finish this later!" Tina left, slamming the door be-
hind her, and Patty came over to our area to change. She did not seem
all that upset by what had just happened.
"Hi," I said weakly. "How's it going tonight?" Patty looked at me,
and we both began to snicker. We dare not laugh out loud, or Tina
might think we were laughing at her. "Actually it's going pretty
good," said Patty, returning to her female voice again. "Where were
you?," I asked, and she got this weird smile on her face. "Getting
fucked," she answered. This sort of caught me off guard with its
frankness. "Oh?," I said. "Was it good?" Patty licked her lips, and
said, "Good? Honey, you don't know that half of it! I met this Str-
aight looking guy in the park the other day, and he tries to pick me
up. I figure I can string him through dinner, tell him I got my period
and dump him. Well, over a drink he tells me he thinks he saw me in
here once. It turns out that he digs chicks with cocks. He ain't let
me out of bed all week, and with his seven incher to sit on, I ain't
wanted to be let out. I wish I could get a shower quick. My ass is
squishing, and full of his cum right now."
It appeared that Patty was rather taken with this new young man of
her's, but we did not have time to discuss it further at that moment.
We agreed to meet for lunch later that week to talk more. She also
seemed to know all about my leaving the way Margo did. I wondered who
told who, and if there was anyone who did not know by now. Patty made
a quick trip to the toilet to clean up while I covered for her. It
would very soon be showtime!
The stage lights caught me full in the face as the curtain went up, and
while I was getting used to that happening, it meant that I could not
see the audience very well. I wanted to have a quick look around for
Edith to be sure she was all right. I need not have worried. When I
did get a look at her, she was at a stageside table with a drink in
front of her, and talking happily with Jerry. She seemed to be having
a very good time, and even enjoying the show when she stopped talking
to Jerry long enough to look at it. She did watch me, though. I liked
that.
There was not much socializing in the dressing room after the show.
Everyone seemed to have places to go, and things to do. My joining was
a celebration, but my leaving was quiet. Even Patty skipped out wit-
hout a shower, the quicker to get back to her stud. I showered alone,
dressed, cleared out my locker, and dropped my keys in the office. I
went to find Edith.
Edith was saying good night to Jerry when I found her. Jerry never
stayed around the club much. He was Straight, and only appeared in the
bar to see the shows. He was actually a theatrical agent, and the bar
was just an investment where he showcased some of his minor talent in a
campy atmosphere. "Are you ready to leave, or would you like to stay a
while?," Edith asked. "Let's go," I said, and we hailed a cab outside.
"You seem quiet," Edith said as we rode home. "Just thinking. You
know I have a modeling assignment tomorrow night?," I said. "That's
fine," Edith replied, "because I won't be home either. I've got a date
with your friend Jerry."
--
Jon Grossberg - Internet: [email protected].org FidoNet: 1:107/565
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