Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002 All Right Reserved
     
Introduction: A Moment of Crisis

     Her lips set into a fine, hard line against the emotion
burning in her throat, Victoria Denato started to stride out of
her pastel-and-chintz-decorated bedroom only to catch herself at
the last moment. If her plan was to have any chance of success,
she had to have Jane Thompson's full cooperation - and she was
absolutely certain that cooperation would not be forthcoming if
she failed to be ladylike in any way. Taking a deep, cleansing
breath, she stepped across her room's threshold and walked with
carefully measured gait down the hall that led to the main
staircase. 

     *Maybe I should have worn the taller heels,* she thought,
*They would have made my walk more ladylike, but they don't go
with the outfit. Remember, toe-to-heel, toe-to-heel. . * she
mentally repeated like a marching cadence. 

     New and hard-learned habit had her checking her appearance
one last time before venturing down to the main floor of the huge
old house. The floor-to-ceiling mirror that dominated the second
floor landing revealed no flaws to her now-experienced eyes - as
should only be expected for Victoria had selected this outfit and
dressed with equal care. After all, this Laura Ashley skirt and
sweater set, combined with the opaque, white stockings had
actually been praised by Marie, and barely commented upon by Ms.
Thompson the previous time she'd worn it. *Although I can't think
of any other girls who'd actually dressed in this kind of stuff,
unless they were going to church or something,* she mused at her
reflection. 

     Her hair and makeup were as close to perfect as she could
manage - though like her outfit they were too formal for morning. 
But Marie hadn't shown her how to cope with some of the color
effects yet.  Victoria resisted the urge to pat her hair to see
if it was real. The bright golden shade clashed with the olive
skin tones that were a legacy her Mediterranean ancestors. Sandy,
drat her, had actually cooed over the look, assuring Victoria
that it made her look 'exotically sexy'. 

     With a sigh, Victoria squared her shoulders and headed down
the stairs.

     At the bottom of the stairs, Victoria headed for Jane's
study, the plush Persian carpet muting any sound from her modest
heels. She was surprised to find the thick door slightly ajar as
she approached it. A small sound caught her notice as she raised
her fist to knock. Surprised, Victoria hesitated and listened,
not sure if she believed the evidence of her ears - and then she
heard it again. It was a noise with which she had become only too
personally familiar in her months living at Seasons House. 

     Someone was crying - except this time, it was someone other
than Victoria Denato doing the crying. 

     Cautiously, Victoria peeked around the edge of the door, not
sure what to expect, and was utterly shocked to see that it was
the indomitable Jane Thompson herself who was in tears, the
receiver of her old fashioned phone held shakily in a white-
knuckled fist. 

     Some dark, malicious part of Victoria wanted to revel in
whatever had driven her tormentor to display such emotion, wanted
to savor the older woman's pain. Well, didn't the woman deserve
some payback for all the humiliation she'd inflicted on Vic
Denato? 

     The part of Victoria that was still that rebellious hooligan
- that rebellious MALE hooligan - wanted to shout aloud in the
affirmative, wanted to relish in full measure this woman's grief. 
But for some reason, she just couldn't do it. 

     *Whatever is bothering her must be pretty awful for her to
break down like that,* Victoria thought. *Heck, she didn't even
make sure the door was closed so she could cry in privacy. Now
what do I do?* She thought for a moment and recalled her
determination to see her plan through. 

     Before she could change her mind, Victoria knocked sharply
on the doorjamb and stepped into the room without waiting for
permission. "Is there anything I can do to help, Ms. Jane?" she
asked softly. 

     Jane's head came up with an almost-audible snap, her eyes
going wide as she saw her latest student standing in the open
doorway. "Vic. . Victoria," Jane stammered even as she tried to
bat away the evidence of her crying, almost hitting herself in
the face with the telephone. "What are you doing here?" the older
woman managed as she carefully settled the phone back in its
delicately scrolled gilded cradle. 

     Her 'high-heel marching cadence' still playing in her head,
Victoria stepped carefully into Jane's sanctum. "That's why," she
said, pointing to the televised scene of devastation as she moved
toward Jane's desk. "I need to talk to you about something I
heard on the radio." 

     Jane seemed to consider that for a few moments before moving
to her desk.  "Sit down, Victoria, and tell me what you want,"
she ordered as she took her own seat, although with something
less than her usual brusque authority. 

     Victoria took her seat, doing her best to perform that
maneuver precisely the way she'd been taught, and turned to face
her guardian. "The radio said the Red Cross needs blood
donations," Victoria began quietly, "They especially need O-
negative - the Universal Donor blood-type because of the
emergency stuff they're having to do at. . .at . . . the, well,
at the Towers." She actually shook herself to keep from babbling
and forced her eyes to meet Jane's own violet ones. "I'm O-
negative and I would like to give." 

     Jane literally gaped at Victoria, momentarily stunned.
*Obviously,* Victoria thought, *Whatever she had expected to be
on her student's mind, donating blood had not been it.* 

     "I see," and then she finally managed was to ask, "Why?" 

     "Because they need the blood," Victoria repeated, again
pointing back to the television, "for them." 

     Reflexively, Jane's eyes followed Victoria's gesture and
then closed as tears started to gather once again at the sights,
this time of the Pentagon, she saw on the glowing screen. "It
really hurts you," Victoria noted, "What's on the television. Did
you. . I mean," she faltered as she realized who she was talking
to and what she was about to ask. 

     "Did I what?" Jane asked. 

     "Know someone who might. . might be in there?" 

     The older woman considered Victoria for several long
moments. For her part, Victoria struggled not to fidget under
that steely gaze; an effort that brought the momentary and
unnoticed twitch of a smile to Jane's lips.  "One of my gir. .
uh, students, works in the Pentagon," she finally admitted. "I
haven't been able to reach he. . him or . . . his family. The
phone circuits are overloaded and I couldn't get through. Now
they're asking non-essential calls to New York and Washington be
curtailed." 

     Victoria considered that and then remembered something she'd
heard on the radio. "They said that the part of the Pentagon that
was damaged was mostly empty - on account of it being renovated,"
she offered hopefully. 

     "I hadn't heard that," Jane admitted, too focused on her
worries to notice, let alone correct Victoria's grammatical
error. "Are you certain of that?" 

     "As much as I can be. I know I heard that at least twice on
the radio." Jane nodded and Victoria wondered if who this student
was - another of Ms. Thompson's manners projects? "Was. . . your
student, that is, in the Army?" 

     "No," Jane answered with a shake of her head. "Marines,
actually." 

     "There's a difference?" Victor asked suspiciously, only
remembering to use Victoria's voice for the last few syllables. 

     "According to the Marines, there is a world of difference,
child," Jane replied, a single brow lifted to show she had not
missed THAT verbal gaff. However, she did not specifically call
the girl on it. 

     Silence grew between the two as the repetitious and
unchanging reports of destruction, terror and growing anger
sounded from the television. After several minutes, Victoria
could wait no longer. "Ms. Jane? About my request?" 

     "To give blood? I must ask you again, why do you want to do
that? Is this some scheme to get out of your skirts, Victoria?" 

     The steady gaze that answered her question surprised Jane.
"No," her student replied firmly. "It's not a scheme or anything
else. I just need to . . . to do. . SOMEthing!" 

     "Really? Well, I am sorry, but I'm afraid that is out of the
question," Jane replied sharply. 

     "But the newscasters said they really need the blood!"
Victoria slipped and it was Victor's voice that protested. 

     "As I told you after our little trip to the mall, you're in
skirts until I decide you've earned the privilege of trousers."
The vivid blush on her pupil's cheeks spoke volumes about just
how clearly Victor/Victoria remembered that recent experience. "A
stipulation, I hasten to add, to which you agreed quite readily
just this very Saturday, in fact." 

     "I know that, Ma'am," the girl said softly. "That's why I
dressed so carefully. I don't think anyone would question me
dressed like this. We could go and give blood right now. No one
would have to know that I'm. . .that I'm anything other than what
I appear to be." 

     "I see," Jane said in what Victoria thought was a very odd
tone, "but I don't think that will work. I'm fairly certain that
they, that is, the people who would be taking and using your
blood, would need to know you are really a boy under that girlish
finery. When they will test your blood, they'll find male
hormones instead of the female ones they expect.  The Red Cross
might well have to discard otherwise perfectly acceptable blood.
That would be a sad waste." 

     "So?" Victor's voice cracked through again, but he pressed
on as Victoria. "We just tell them who and what I really am once
we're inside the clinic where they take the blood. I can do that.
I WILL do that, Ms. Jane!" 

     Shaking her head, Jane replied, "No, you will not.  I do not
choose to have it become general knowledge that some of my
students are . . . 'troubled.'  That would cast unwarranted
aspersions on prior students and those to come after you.  We
must solve your problems without harming others in the process. 
And I believe your experiences this previous weekend demonstrated
the futility of you trying to appear masculine?"     

     Victoria felt her hackles rise and glared at the woman
seated across the desk from her.  "If that's what I have to do,
Ms. Jane, then that's what I'll do!" At Jane's challengingly
lifted brow, Victoria continued. "I'll go to a clinic, dressed
just like I am right now. I'll tell them I am a really a boy
who's being punished by being made to wear girl's clothes, but .
. . " 

     "But?" 

     "Well, I sort of figured you must know someone in the
medical field - in case I got hurt or sick, you know? Someone who
could take my blood, fill out the paperwork correctly, but not
give away my secret?" 

     A thoughtful look crossed Jane's drawn features, but "I'm
not sure that would work," was all she said. 

     "Couldn't you at least check, please? And if that won't
work, then I still want to donate the blood they need, Ma'am,
even if it means admitting to. . .," and despite the best will in
the world, Victoria had to swallow hard before continuing, "to
being a boy who likes to wear girl's clothes and stuff . . . or
to being a boy who's being punished by being made to dress up
like a girl." 

     "You'd break your cover just to donate blood? Again, I have
to ask why?" 

     For the first time since she'd stepped into the room, the
emotion that Victoria had been fighting since staring in mute
shock at those first televised images started to roil up out of
control. Swallowing hard, she fought the tears, but knew it was a
losing battle. "Because. . . because. . ." 

     "Because why, child?" Jane prompted as she handed the girl a
tissue. 

     "BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE THE ONES WHO DID THAT!!"
she burst out and then bolted from the room, slamming the door
behind her. 

     Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     Chapter 1: The Beginning - Again

     *Lord above, but I am glad women don't wear feathered hats
anymore.  The plumage would definitely be drooping right now,*
Jane mused as she once again stood upon the train station
platform.  The oppressively humid heat of late July in New
England beat down on her and Jane's black 'power-suit' only made
it worse. *It's a wonder I'm not drooping, and of course, this is
the day the infernal train is late, too,* she thought as she cast
her eyes down the track in hopes of seeing the electric
locomotive appear in the heatwave-distorted distance.

     She was alone today because there was no other student in
residence at her little school. That meant that Marie would be
pressed into the 'good cop' role against Jane's 'bad cop' persona
with this student.  That was not optimal for the student or
Jane's program, of course. Marie had other duties that would get
in the way of her becoming the new resident's confidante, but
using the deeply caring French Canadian had worked out well
enough in the past and should serve again this time. 

     *Perhaps, given this student's particularly belligerent
history, the lack of a 'big sister' might be all to the good. 
Marie and I can take care of ourselves, well enough.  Besides, we
will know not to turn our backs on a teenager with a tendency
toward violence, particularly when we've pushed him to the very
edge of his emotional control. Another student, no matter how
well we prepared her for her role, might get hurt.*

     The sound of the train's whistle sounded in the distance. 
Jane checked her appearance in the station's plate glass window,
and then moved purposefully to the center of the platform.  It
was show time!

     Most of the train's passengers were obviously headed for
Providence or Boston, and few of those wanted to leave the air-
conditioned comfort of the passenger cars so Jane's new student
stood out immediately.  His Italian ancestry showed clearly in
his dark hair and olive-toned skin.  She studied him with
professional objectivity as he gathered his bags from the porter. 
He was short, even shorter than she'd pictured from his file
description, and while he wasn't slight of build, he wasn't bulky
either. *Good skin,* she thought, *and no sign of any significant
beard growth yet.  Smooth facial features, too.  We'll have to
select his garments carefully, and a good corsetting will do
wonders for _her_ figure, but we'll have no trouble getting him
out into public en femme.*

     With that confirmed in her own mind, Jane moved to intercept
her quarry.  "Victor Denato?" she said in her sharpest tones.  

     "Yeah, I'm Vic Denato," was the sneeringly insolent reply. 
"I suppose you're the warden here?" 

     "I am," Jane said in icy tones, "Jane Thompson, your court-
appointed guardian for an as-yet indeterminate period of time.
*YOU* may call me Ms. Thompson."

     Something akin to humor, but darker and unpleasant, glinted
in the boy's dark eyes.  "Sure thing, Mizzz Thompson," he said
flippantly.  "Whatever you say."

     Jane knew better than to allow a confrontation between them
to escalate in public, so she changed the subject.  "Is that all
of your things?" she demanded.  A head movement that might have
been a nod was all the answer she received. "Come along, then. 
It is nearly noon and we have much to accomplish today."

     "Yeah, sure.  Get one of those porters over here for my
stuff, then."

     "I beg your pardon," Jane retorted.  "Were you speaking to
me, young man?"

     "Who else, bit . . ., I mean, Mizzz Thompson?"

     Raw anger pulsed through Jane's heat-frayed self-control,
but she managed to hold her composure.  "From your record, I
understand you are QUITE the, uh, physical young man, Mr. Denato. 
I think you can and WILL handle your own baggage.  You will ALSO
treat me and anyone with whom I direct you to work with absolute
courtesy and respect or you can get back on that bloody train
right now. You might make it to Boston before the police show up
to cart you off to that reformatory.  Your choice, Mr. Denato."

     If anger was sparking from Jane's violet eyes, violent fury
was blazing in Victor Denato's.  For just an instant, Jane
thought the boy was going to try to strike her and prepared to
deflect him.  However, he backed off under her steel-hard glare. 
Slowly, with ill-concealed dislike, the boy reached down to
gather his three large bags.  Straightening unsteadily beneath
their weight, he scowled up at the taller Jane.  "Lead on, Mizzz
Thompson."

     She did, thinking as she walked, *A bully, indeed, but I can
handle that.  Like all bullies, beneath all that male braggadocio
he's also a coward.  Well, young man, I will have no compunction
at all pulling out the big guns with you!  In fact, I am going to
enjoy making you squirm and cry.*

Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

Chapter 2: Vignettes - A Program in Disarray

     Jane tapped her finger on her calendar as she dialed a
familiar phone number. *I'll need to change that to August
tomorrow,* she thought.

     "Marisha Chalet.  Carolyn Beale speaking."

     "Caro!  Jane here.  Ready for another opportunity to excel,
dear?"

     "So this newbie didn't take you up on your offer to leave in
one of your frilly nighties, either?"

     Good humored satisfaction colored Jane's tones.  "Not
hardly, dear.  He caved and gave his word to follow the rules,
just like they all do eventually."

     "And you think she is ready to venture out into the cold,
cruel world?  What are you calling him. . .her?"

     "I think she's suitably cowed now, and we named her Victoria
- what else?  I don't have the imagination some of my students do
when it comes to naming.  Besides, I think there is additional
impact to a girl's name that sounds like his real one."

     "Well, you'd know, Jane.  So, what's the plan?  Actually, I
sort of thought you'd be bringing her in earlier.  He's been with
you, what, a week already?"

     "The usual first day at the salon experience with you and
Sandy."

     "How does SHE look? How are her girl-skills?

     "Adequate, I think.  After one week in the program, she's
well into the initial indoctrination phase."

     "Any issues with behavior?"

     Jane paused noticeably.  "I don't think so, at least for
this trip.  The removal of his male clothing and their
replacement with the very frilly, exaggeratedly feminine wardrobe
I use during the first weeks of a rehabilitation did result in an
angry confrontation between Victor and I."

     "How angry?" Carolyn demanded.

     "He attempted to become physical with me," Jane admitted
equably. "Without any success and to the detriment of his ego, I
might add.  You won't have any trouble with THIS one, I'm sure."

     ~-------------~

     Carolyn examined the figure seated at her station with a
professional eye.  Like Jane, she saw both the flaws and the
possibilities in the face and form of her subject.  That her
subject was a genetic male was not a significant issue - she had
transformed far more masculine boys into passable young girls. 
Most were even attractive - once she relented and allowed them to
be, that is.  The little monsters had to *earn* that privilege
first.  Until they had, Carolyn and Sandy followed Jane's orders
which required that the students be caricatures.

     *Oh, my, but has Sandy done a job on you, Victoria,* Caro
thought as she considered frizzy blond ponytails, more suited to
an eight year old girl than an adolescent woman-child. *I'll have
to brush it out before the girls arrive for class, but even so,
she's going to have more curl and body than any of the others. 
And those nails - she'll poke her eyes out before she learns to
manage them.  You must have really pissed her off, Victoria.*

     "Well," she said finally.  "Aren't you the pretty child,
Victoria.  Having fun, dear?"

     Caro had expected to see the boy-girl's face color with
embarrassment, or at most lighten with fear.  Victoria's face did
flush, but what she saw in those eyes was anger, perhaps even
rage. *Well, it is not the usual reaction, but nothing I haven't
seen and dealt with before with one of Jane's girls.* "Ah, ah,
ah, dearie," she chided in a soft, barely audible sing-song. 
"Don't want to lose your temper and blow your masquerade.  Unless
you want all my customers and consultants to know that you are a
pretty little sissyboy under that pretty school uniform."

     She saw his struggle to school his features and control his
anger. *Have to watch this one,* she mused. *Jane was right about
that temper of his.* "That's better.  Now, Jane tells me you've
been given basic training by Marie in cosmetics.  She is good,
but I'm better.  What I want now is for you to do up your own
face so I can see what you know, and what you don't.  Then, I
will use you as the demonstration model for my girls' club."

     Shocked, he sat up and stared at Carolyn, his eyes wide. 
"You'll what?  What girls' club?  Me?"

     *Gotcha!* "Didn't Jane tell you?" Carolyn asked with a sly
smile.  "She said I could use you to demonstrate make-up tricks
to a group of girls I work with every Wednesday."

     "But, I can't, I mean, they'll figure out that I'm a. . .No,
that's just not going to work!"

     "As I understand it, you've agreed to follow Jane's orders,
and her orders were that you're supposed to follow mine.  You'll
do what I say or the whole deal is off, Missie!"

     "But all those girls. . . "

     "Will not notice a thing, other than that you are the 'new
girl' and more than a little shy.  Just do as I say, and play
along and nothing will go wrong," she ordered as she began to
undo ties holding the pigtails in place.

     "But I'm a boy!" Victoria hissed out as Caro began to brush
out the expertly installed hair-extensions Sandy had woven into
Victor's own locks.

     With a jerk, Carolyn spun the salon chair so that Victoria
was facing the mirrored wall.  She gripped her subject's cheeks
between strong fingers so that Victoria had no choice but to
stare at her own reflection.  "But dear, you don't LOOK like a
boy.  In fact, you look nothing LIKE a boy, and so long as you
don't ACT anything like a boy, no one is going to know you're a
boy.  So unless you WANT that fact to become common knowledge,
you will be a good little girl - keep your mouth shut, do what
you're told and SMILE!!  Got it, sissy boy?"

     In the mirror, she could see Victoria swallow hard, then
close her eyes and nod.

     "Excellent.  Now, make up your face for me.  All my girls
are supposed to show up for class with their faces already done
up so that I can critique their efforts and show them a few
tricks to correct any errors.  You, I suspect, will make a lot of
errors which is why you'll be my model today." *And so that I can
keep you out of TOO close a contact with the girls before you are
really ready.*

     ~------------~

     Marie accepted the glass of sherry Jane offered.  "Well, I
must say that Caro continues to impress me with her artistry. 
Victoria's face was lovely."

     "Yes," Jane smiled.  "And our little girl was VERY ready to
run home to Seasons House after the make-up club meeting was
over.  All in all, a very successful first outing, I think."

     "Sandy got carried away," Marie said frowning.  "I've seen
dustmops with less bulk than that hair-do she foisted off on
Victoria."

     Jane shrugged.  "It's what she does, and very well."

     "I just think we should keep an eye on her, is all.  That
hairdo is not going to be easy for us to deal with and it
certainly doesn't send the message we usually want our girls to
get."

     "I see your point.  Well, I think we will hold off on Brenda
Franson's shop for a few more days - let Victoria learn a few
more hard lessons before she has to keep her cool in her silky
undies in Betty's changing room."

     ~---------------~

     There was a wicked grin on Jane's lips as she listened to
the phone ring on the other end of the connection.  That grin
only grew wider when she heard the line pick up followed by "This
is Mrs. Edith White speaking, how may I help you," in the old
lady's Brahman accents. 

     "Edith, dear, this is Jane - Jane Thompson.  How are you
today?"

     "Quite well, thank you.  Dare I hope that this call heralds
the debut of another of your delightful young ladies to our
little social set?"

     "In a way, Edith.  I do have a new student in residence, but
I'm afraid she not very ladylike.  Why do all the children
nowadays seem so . . . coarse and crude?"

     "Overly permissive parents, my dear, which is why ladies
such as you and I must set proper examples and maintain certain
standards."

     Jane struggled not to giggle at that bit of pompous
foolishness, but could not quite repress the smile.  "True,
Edith, sad but oh-so-very true.  In any case, I could surely use
just such an example of impeccable manners for this one's
benefit, and of course, I thought immediately of you.  Could you
come over for tea tomorrow?"

     "Tomorrow?" Edith responded, sounding uncertain.  "Let me
check my calendar. . . let's see, tomorrow is Friday, the tenth
of August?  Yes, I could make tea tomorrow afternoon.  What
time?"

     "Three p.m.?"

     "That will be fine.  You do recall we are having a bit of a
musicale on Sunday at the country club.  A little food, some
socializing, a bit of proper ballroom dancing for the young
people.  If your student performs adequately tomorrow, perhaps we
could reward her with an invitation to the gathering."

     "Thank you, Edith - I'm sure that will do the trick, and oh,
I almost forgot - it will be a formal tea.  I'll have her wearing
the right clothes, at least.  Together, I'm sure we can teach her
proper manners." 

     ~-------------~

     "She did WHAT?" Marie demanded.

     "She spilled hot tea in Edith's lap - all over that antique
crocheted shawl the woman is so proud of.  And Marie?  It was on
purpose."

     "On purpose?"

     "She mocked us every minute we were there.  Aping mannerly
behavior, mimicking Edith's accent to the point of hyperbole,
putting lemon AND cream into the same cup of tea so that the
cream curdled."  Jane shook her head.  "It was as if she was
TRYING to infuriate me.  Then she 'tripped' and spilled the tea
on Edith.  Thank God there had been time for it to cool a bit."

     "That's never happened before.  Edith is a very scary lady. 
Now what?"

     "Keep trying.  She starts dance lessons tomorrow.  We'll see
how that works." 

     ~-------------~

     "Ms. Thompson?" 

     "Yes, this is Jane Thompson."

     "This is Allison, the dance mistress?"

     "Yes, dear.  What can I do for you?"

     There was silence on the other end of the line, and Jane
could practically feel the woman gathering herself for something
unpleasant. *And since there is only one thing we have in common
that is likely to be unpleasant. . .* "Is this call about
Victoria, Allison?"

     The woman's sigh of relief was audible, even across the
phone line.  "Yes, Ma'am."

     "That bad, eh?"

     "She just doesn't want to be here, and frankly, it's
affecting the rest of the corps.  She doesn't pay attention, and
so she makes mistakes.  On the dance floor, mistakes can get
other dancers hurt."

     "Other students have been injured?!" Jane was aghast. *She
was probably afraid to bring it to my attention since I
underwrite a significant portion of her operating budget.  DAMN!*

     "Not badly, Ms. Thompson.  A couple of ankle sprains and a
pulled hamstring.  The problem is that puts three of my five male
dancers out of commission and with a performance coming up, I
just can't afford to lose male leads for any length of rehearsal
time.  Besides, no one wants to partner her anymore."

     *Precisely her intention, the nasty little bitch!* Jane's
mind snarled.  "You don't. . .the injuries. . . they were really
accidents, weren't they?"

     "Carelessness and inattentiveness, Ms. Thompson," Allison
responded with a hard edge in her voice.  "Ma'am, until Victoria
learns some discipline, well, I just can't have her in the class.
It's not fair to the ones who come and give me their all.  I'm
sorry, and I know you do a lot for the troupe, but. . "

     "But nothing, dear," Jane interrupted.  "I understand, and I
will continue to support your efforts.  It is not your fault my
niece refuses to be accountable for her actions. Thank you for
your call.  Yes, good bye."

     Jane set the phone down on it's cradle, very, very
carefully.

     And then pounded her desk with both hands in frustrated
anger.  It was becoming clear that unless the girl was watched
like a hawk, nasty little 'accidents' tended to happen to those
around her.

     *Oh god, and tomorrow is the big Labor Day picnic in town.
And I *HAVE* to attend.*

     ~---------------~

     "Go to your room, Miss!" Jane snarled as she herded her
student into the front foyer of Seasons House, "And don't leave
until I personally permit it!"

     "Yes, Mizzz Jane," Victoria replied in a sing-song voice
before sauntering up the grand stairway toward her room.

     "I just want to THROTTLE that girl!" Jane fumed to Marie as
they both went into the music room.  

     "Get in line," Marie growled as she beat Jane to the brandy
decanter, pouring generous portions of the fragrant amber liquid
into two crystal balloon snifters.  "You should have known better
than to force her into the egg toss."

     Jane sighed as she accepted her share of the distilled wine. 
"I'll replace that blouse, dear.  Even you can't get dried egg
out of silk.  I just wish I could prove it was intentional so I
could really lay into her for THAT.  Unfortunately, as she has so
often, her visible behavior was impeccable until we were two
miles down the road on our way home."

     "And then the little . . . bitch went snotty on us yet
again.

     "And there is no reason to believe her compliance with any
orders we give her here will be any less maliciously precise than
it has been in the previous six weeks.  I must tell you, Marie, I
am getting bloody tired of doing in-depth rhetorical analysis on
any order I decide to give this one."

     "She has me doubting my instincts, too."

     "Join the club, Marie.  Heavens, I don't know why I bother
to use feminine pronouns with this one.  I just wish I understood
what was behind that dichotomy.  It isn't courage - I'm very sure
of that.  Thus far, I've seen nothing to indicate she possesses
that virtue, and besides, if the boy really doesn't fear my
games, why would going to the beauty parlor or to any other
public venue have any effect on his behavior?" 

     "If I knew, I'd tell you, Jane.  And you know I've tried to
get her to talk to me about it, with very little success.  The
only thing she's let slip is that, for some reason she wouldn't
share with me, she has concluded that so long as nothing happens
outside of this house to reveal his true nature, whatever happens
inside Seasons House doesn't really matter.

     "So we must conclude that it isn't so much Sandy, Caro and
their antics that reach Victoria, but the public nature of the
trips to encounter those women.  Victoria is clearly more careful
with her behaviors and mannerisms when she knows she is going to
be on display or in public - with her cosmetics and dress, too."

     "At least she's learned those lessons well enough not to
endanger the program when she's out in public," Marie sighed. 
"She's learned to be rather attractive when her attitude isn't
getting in your face."

     "Unfortunately, the outings are only a threat, a bluff, as
you will know. We can't permit a break in the student's feminine
persona while we're out - only while we're at home - and we need
such 'failures' on her part. They provide us with the psychic
wedges we use to break down the resistant male ego."

     "So where does that leave us?  With a student who has
somehow figured out that he really is safe?" 

     Jane nodded morosely. "How he has reached that conclusion, I
have no idea.  Unfortunately, the fact that he is correct only
makes my problem more difficult."

     "Difficult?" Marie snorted "Try impossible, Jane.  That
attitude can not continue or we will never make any progress with
the boy. In fact, you and I both know we're *that close* to
having to give up and return him to the juvenile criminal justice
system.  

     "Like Hell we will!" Jane snapped furiously, and then
blushed.  "Sorry, dear."

     "That's all right, Jane.  I hate the idea, too."

     "Somehow," Jane thought aloud, "we have to shake his
certainty that he is safe so long as he doesn't break cover
outside the house.  The problem with that is that it necessitates
putting him squarely in the public eye and breaking the
masquerade in front of witnesses."

     "JANE!  You're KIDDING!"

     "Not really, but that concept does pose several problems,
not the least of which was that if it does not work, it's all
over. If public unmasking, even though it's in the limited sense
I'd dare attempt, fails, nothing else will have any beneficial
outcome.  Eventually, the terms of the court order that sent him
here will force us to send him back, and let the juvenile
detention system have its way with him."

     "You said there were problems - plural.  What else?"

     "The second problem, of course, is that he has already been
exposed to most of our fellow-conspirators as a cross-dressed
male." Jane rose and went back to the sideboard for a bit more
brandy.  "There isn't anyone else we can use to set up a 'safe' -
read that, not real - public unmasking.  He is, by now, only too
aware that Sandy, Caro and Betty Franson are in on the
masquerade.  I think he would very probably conclude that any
other local establishment I try to use for that purpose were also
in on the game.  He has to believe that he really has been
unmasked.  That requires some truly public location."

     "Are you thinking of what you did to Michael?"

     Nodding, Jane resumed her seat.  "Yes.  It is chancy and it
might as easily backfire as work, but for the life of me, I
cannot think of any other choice."

     "How will you set that up?  You usually do that far earlier
in the program when the student still thinks you might actually
let him go and while he is still reeling from the sudden change
in his lifestyle.  This one has already figured out too much."

     "And I don't have a big sister to tease him into it,
either," Jane admitted.  "I think there is a way, though.  I just
hope I understand his psyche now well enough to predict how he
will react if his male pride is put on the line."  

     
"You're kidding," Marie burbled as she finally understood.  When
Jane only shook her head, the little French Canadian could only
laugh.  "Amazing.  The only way to feminize him is to challenge
him to prove his masculinity and then call upon his sense of male
honor.  All right, then, what's the first step?"

     "I call Caro.  I will need her help, but she needs to know
why first.  We cannot forget that he does have a history of
violence and we are about to push his buttons about as hard as we
can."

     ~--------------~

     "Caro?  Jane, here.  Is Sandy there?  Are you two available
for a quick conference call?"

     "Hi, Jane.  Sure.  Let me get her on the other phone.  We're
just about done for the day here, anyway.  Just a sec. . " Jane
heard Caro's muffled yell for Sandy to pick up the phone,
probably through the other woman's palm over the phone's
mouthpiece.

     A click heralded Sandy's arrival.  "Hey, Jane!  What's up?"

     "Obviously, I need your help, ladies, but I must also warn
you that the plan I have decided to follow is something that
could really backfire on us."

     Sandy snort of disgust was plain, even across the New
England phone lines.  "Victoria still being a little piss-ant for
you out there?"

     "Crudely put, Sandra, but unfortunately, also highly
accurate - and we're running out of options with this one -
running out of time, too.  If we don't reach her soon, it's all
over and she goes into the loss column."

     Carolyn's own husband was a Jane Thompson success and she
didn't even like thinking about her life had Jane not been able
to turn his life around for him.  "What do you want to do?  What
do you want from us, Jane?"

     "I want to pull out all the stops," Jane said in a rush. 
"For what I have planned, I need to make it impossible for him to
look at all masculine, regardless of how I permit him to dress."

     "Okay, I understand the goal.  What have you got in mind?"

     "Oh, not much.  Hair coloring, I think. Something
audaciously brazen and utterly blatant."

     "More than we've already done with her?"  Carolyn asked,
surprised.

     "More than we've ever done - period.  As I said, pull out
all the stops."

     "We can do that," Sandy said confidently.  "When I'm done
with the little witch, her hair will light up a dark room.  What
else?"

     Jane let out a frustrated breath, and refocused herself.
"What I'd *like* to do is inflict a big-hair hairdo on her that
would embarrass Dolly Parton, but we can't do that.  He has to
agree to this ploy, and I'm sure he'd decide I was cheating if we
augmented his coiffure more than we already have done.  No,
whatever we do, we're stuck working with just what he has now. 
Unfortunately, even with the current extensions, that collar
length hair just won't cut it for big hair.  Dammit!"

     "Wow, you are bedeviled if you're reduced to making bad puns
and cursing, Jane," Caro chuckled.

     "Umm, Jane?  I think I know what you're planning, and I may
have an idea on that," Sandy put in.

     "Really?  Let me hear it, please . . .oh, and before I
forget.  Sandy?  Those new, special nail-tips you told me about a
few weeks ago?  Those, too."

     "They're expensive, Jane.  Very expensive," Caro warned.

     "I can afford it, Carolyn, and I am afraid this might be our
last chance.  I won't be penny-wise and pound-foolish with a
young man's future in the balance."

     "You're the customer, Jane.  When do you want to come?"

     "Tomorrow's our regular day for the Chalet, and that's fine,
but I think we might want to have the salon . . . well, the fewer
real customers in the house, the better.  Just in case."

     "I see," Caro said with a sigh.  "Okay, I'll open an hour
early just for you two."

     "Thanks, Carolyn, and Caro?  I will be there for the entire
appointment this time.  Just in case.  Now, then, Sandra, tell me
what you had in mind."

     
Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

Chapter 3: A Student Challenged - The Laced Gauntlet

     Jane got out of her chair and walked over to the sideboard. 
She poured herself a glass of mineral water which she sipped
contemplatively as she considered her student's intentionally
inept heel-walking exercises. 

     They'd just returned from the Marisa Chalet where Caro and
Sandy had outdone themselves.  Parade-polished Marine Corps brass
didn't gleam like that hair, and then there had been a trick or
two to that manicure as well.

     Jane had immediately started in with lessons as soon as
they'd returned.  As Jane had anticipated, the moment Victoria
was back inside the house she had reverted to the obstreperous,
obnoxious little snot she'd been since day one.  Oh, she followed
'orders', to the letter, but that was all she'd do.

     After several failed attempts to gain some measure of
compliance with the meaningless exercise, Jane gave an
exaggerated sigh. 
"Victor," she began, intentionally addressing him by his real
name for the first time in weeks, "this is not working, and it's
because you're not trying to work with me - as you promised you
would."

     "I am SO trying, Ms. Jane," Victor rejoined, with obvious
insincerity, "but, well, I'm just too much of a man to look like
a convincing girl. It's not my fault."

     Which was exactly the response Jane had anticipated from
Marie's conversations with the student.  "Oh?  I think you do
quite well if you'll just look in the mirror.  It's only when you
fail to put forth the necessary effort that your portrayal falls
short of satisfactory."

     "No, Ms. Jane.  It is the standing still part that does it,
in these clothes that are clearly girl's clothes.

     "You're not going to give me that 'clothes do make the man'
nonsense, are you?" Jane scoffed.

     Victor grinned at that. "No, but let's be honest.  First,
people see what they expect to see.  Somebody sees a skirt, and
they figure, so long as it isn't something really draggy, that's
a girl wearing the skirt, right?  Second, you, Marie and those
two bit. . errr. .  women at the salon are experts at this stuff. 
I think you could make the Rock look like a girl, provided he
didn't move or talk.  That's what I do when we're out, because I
just don't want to deal with that, but I can guarantee you this -
as soon as I do anything active, or if I wore pants, then I'd be
all man and you know it," he finished with a hard nod of his head
in emphasis.  "And so would anyone looking at me."

     *An excellent analysis,* Jane thought. *And too close to the
truth by half.  Still, You've just offered me an opportunity if I
play this correctly.  "You think so?" Jane asked with heavy
disbelief coloring her tones. 

     Her student turned to the mirror and gave the reflection a
quick look.  One hand went up to the now-shoulder-length hair and
palmed the curls flat before he turned back to face Jane. 
"Sure," he replied confidently.  "A little of that mousse-stuff
to slick down this wavy hair, a shirt that buttons down the right
side, throw in a pair of jeans and some flat shoes and I *WOULD*
look like that model guy Sandy mentioned yesterday.  Heck, if it
was a little longer, I'd look like a younger, better looking
version of that Fabio-guy all the girls are goofy over."

     "Then how about a test?"  Jane offered with studied
nonchalance.

     Now suspicion flared in the dark eyes, "What kind of test? 
And why should I even try one of YOUR tests?"

     "Because you said you'd follow my program, and in fact, gave
me your word on that score?" Jane replied off-handedly, "But
perhaps being a MAN, you need more than that to give your best
effort."

     "My word, MIZZ Thompson," Victor hissed, "WHEN it is freely
and fairly given, is solid. . . *gold*!  You have NO call to say
OTHERWISE!"

     "So you say, young man.  Forgive me if I believe you have
given me cause to think otherwise.  In any case, I am willing to
accept your word, assuming we can reach an agreement."

     "An agreement?  What kind of agreement?" Victor demanded,
suspicion dripping from every word.

     "A very simple one, and one you should have no trouble at
all winning - if you are correct and I am wrong, that is.  You
work with me for one day, tomorrow, that's Thursday, doing
whatever I require to the very best of your abilities. On Friday,
I will provide you with pants, a shirt and casual shoes and we'll
go to a shopping mall. If you are sufficiently masculine, you
will find the minor things I've had you do so far - plucking your
eyebrows and so on - to be inconsequential.  Surely, no fair and
objective observer will see you in any way other than as you see
yourself.  In that case, I sign off on your release forms the
moment we get back here, and you are on the next train back home
- a free MAN.  With me so far?"

     "Sounds great to me, but I have figured you out a bit in the
past weeks, Ms. Jane.  Nothing you do is what it seems to be at
first glance.  What's the catch?"

     "Well, if your appearance remains sufficiently feminine to
be an issue, either for you or for the people we encounter at the
mall, then will you agree that the problem is not your
appearance, but your attitude? And agree to do your VERY best to
comply not only with the letter of my program, but with what you
very well know is the intent of that program."

     "Hah!  Fat chance. It won't be any skin off my nose, but
sure as you're standing here, one or more of your bit. . .buddies
will be there to make it look like I failed."

     "My word of honor, Victor, that no one associated with me or
my program will be involved except for you and me.  We will even
drive to a distant mall so that you can be assured no one
associated with my program will be there." *And so that no one
will recognize either of us and associate you with Victoria.*
"So," Jane continued, direct challenge in her eyes, "Do you have
the courage for such a public test?  Do you have the personal
honor to comply with my conditions, regardless of the outcome?"

     The jibe hit him squarely in his overblown male ego, just as
Jane had intended.  "I can do ANYthing, Ms. Jane. Anything *I*
WANT to do, that is," he snarled belligerently.  "No one will
mistake me for a girl, not in pants and, well, other reasonable
clothes."

     "Very well, then.  Tomorrow we will redo the dressing
exercises and you will show me what you have really learned."

     "No weird clothes!" he put in quickly.  "None of those
tricky things that change color when you wear them or anything
like that."

     "What was it you said?  Jeans, a shirt with buttons down the
right side, by which I assume you mean not on the side a woman's
blouse buttons?  Oh yes, and some flat-heeled shoes?  I can do
that, but in return I expect you to be 'fair' with your voice."

     "Fair? What do you mean by that?" Victor asked, obviously
dropping his voice into an artificially deep register.

     Jane smirked.  "Just that," she retorted sardonically. "You
need to speak with no attempt either to force a strongly
masculine, deep voice, nor the feminine voice you have learned to
use.  That is not to be a factor in this challenge, since you
have demonstrated an ability to speak either way and so it is not
an unavoidable problem with a feminine portrayal.  Agreed?" 

     "How do I do that?  I'll have to speak to someone," he
insisted, still affecting the gruffly bass voice.  

     "If it's required that you speak, you will use a normal tone
of voice, but speak softly and politely.  I will abide by the
results of using your normal speaking voice, neither artificially
deep and harsh, nor light and animated as a girl would use."

     "That it?"

     "I can't think of anything more just now. However, once you
step out of my home, the game is on, and our agreement is in
force, and regardless of the outcome, we agree to fairly and
fully comply with the terms of the challenge, young man!"

     "Oh really?  Like how, Mizz Jane?"

     "If you back out, or if you catch any grief at the mall,
then you come back here, go straight into skirts and lose that
idiotic macho-jerk attitude!"

     "If you say so, Ms. Jane," was the flippant, self-satisfied
reply. "But *when* I win, we come back here, I get my own clothes
back, along with my freedom and a ticket on the next train home."

     "Oh, I do say so, and you've agreed.  As to the final
outcome of our little wager, well, we'll just have to see, won't
we?  So, I will see you later at dinner. I need to tell Marie
that for tomorrow, at least, you've graduated to . . . adult
makeup products instead of the more youthful ones you've been
exposed to thus far.  She'll ensure that you have a complete
assortment in addition to your more age-appropriate products. 
Perhaps the seemingly-overwhelming difficulty you have in
behaving like an adult will be simplified if you can at least
look the part," Jane paused to let the jibe sink in before
continuing.  "Yes, I think we'll try for that tomorrow, once
we're certain you're complying with that part of our deal, as
well."

     Jane watched the skirted teen leave the room and took a deep
cleansing breath.  He'd taken the bait.  If she could just get
him out of the house on Friday, she had a better than fifty-fifty
chance of winning their bet.  If he wouldn't leave the house
after he saw how he looked, maybe she could make that work, too. 
"So, pants AREN'T enough, eh?"  It wouldn't be optimum because
one thing Jane had come to respect about this student was the
value he put on keeping his word - at least the letter of his
word.  

     "I wonder if Marie knows who this Rock person is?"

     ~-----------~

     The boy had done well, Jane admitted as she watched him
stomp down the stairs from his room, given the tools she had
provided him. *A bit TOO well!* "I think NOT, young man," Jane
said sternly as she moved to block his way out the front door of
Seasons House.

     "Huh?  What?" he asked, his head down and angled away from
Jane's accusing glare.

     "That!" Jane replied directly, running a finger down his
cheek.  "Using cosmetics to fake a beard you don't have falls
outside of our agreement."

     "Hey, guys have beards," Victor told her in as off-handed a
tone as he could manage knowing he'd probably already lost.

     "Some *men* do, but they are not created with dark makeup. 
This exercise is about the masculinity of your basic appearance. 
You will clean your face as thoroughly as you are able - an area,
I might add, in which you seem not to have paid appropriate
attention to your lessons.  A *lady* always pays attention to the
cleansing of her skin, and you *agreed* to follow those lessons
completely.  That *is* the agreed-upon basis for this test,
correct?" 

     "But. . . a beard is legitimate. . ."

     "Or, I am willing to put off our trip until tomorrow or even
Sunday," Jane offered, all sweet reason in her voice, "Except
that you will have to work just as hard for me today and up until
the day of the trip as you did yesterday.  Except I won't insist
that you shave.  Just to be fair, of course."

     Jane could see just how little the thought of one or two
more days like the intentionally hellish one she'd put him
through yesterday pleased her student. *Heavens, I am surprised
he can walk without a limp after all that walking in heels
practice,* she thought.

     Finally, his shoulders drooped and he turned back toward the
stairs.  "I'll go clean it off.  I want to get out of this place
as soon as possible," he mumbled before adding, "It was just a
final 'make sure' thing anyway - the last straw."

     "I'm sure," Jane replied, her face deadpan.  Then a thought
struck her.  "Oh, and Victor?"  The boy stopped mid-step up the
stairs and turned to look down at her.  "Use the other powder-
room facilities while you're cleaning up?  I would consider you
slipping into the men's restroom at the mall a cheating trick to
make people THINK you were a boy."

     "But. . but, what if I *have* to go?"

     "That's why I'm telling you to take care of that matter now. 
I don't imagine we will need to be there long, but if it becomes
a REAL problem?  Either find a unisex bathroom or concede our challenge."

     Anger flashed momentarily in the boy's dark eyes, and for a
moment, Jane thought she might have pushed too hard.  Then,
Victor nodded, stiffened his spine, and headed back up the
stairs.

     Only then did Jane think, "Oh lord, I hope Marie remembered
to remove all those color-fast cosmetics last night.  It would
really make things difficult if he couldn't clean away that fake
beard."

Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

Chapter 4: A Student Challenged - A Day at the Mall

     Fortunately, he had used the washable cosmetics in the
creation of his beard, Jane mused an hour and a half later.  She
watched with satisfaction as Victor slipped out of her car.
Everything, so far, had gone perfectly, at least from Jane's
perspective.  The clothes, which in the blatantly feminine
background of Seasons House had seemed innocuous, no longer
seemed so middle of the road.  In fact, against the more gender
neutral environment of the mall parking lot, the total package
portrayed a subtle, yet clearly feminine image. 

     The jeans were so tight through the groin as to emulate a
dancer's gaff, thus giving the wearer a decidedly girlish profile
front and back. The shirt was particularly devious. At first
glance a pirate's shirt - regular collar but soft, top button
fairly low in front, with wide sleeves that gathered down to
tight cuffs - it was fitted rather tightly about the waist and
lower rib cage, but just a little loose about the shoulders and
chest.  The brightly colored magenta fabric was opaque in direct
natural or incandescent lighting, however in the harsher,
flourescent lighting of the mall's interior and stores, the
fabric would appear sheer and would give subtle indications of a
budding, pre-adolescent bosom. No particular feature was 'wrong'
in that shirt sported a real collar, real cuffs and buttons on
the 'male' side of the shirt (though they were hidden in the
folds of the material), but the net effect was effeminate - VERY
effeminate.  

     When combined with androgynously styled 'penny-loafers' and
scalloped white socks, well, Jane suspected that once Victor got
a good look at himself inside the mall, he would no longer think
his outfit met his definition of 'reasonable'.  

     Unfortunately for her student, he had accepted them when
they'd first been presented to him at the house. *Next time,
he'll try wearing them on before making any snap judgements.  If
there is a next time.*

     However, even more important than the outfit was Victor's
face and hair.  The gel-like substance he'd used to slick his
hair down before leaving Seasons House was not really styling
mousse at all, but an alcohol-based product.  Thanks to the heat
of the Indian Summer day, that ersatz 'mousse' had completely
evaporated away during the drive from Kingston to Providence.  If
anything, the permanent wave Sandy had applied was even
'fluffier' than it had been before Victor had applied the mousse. 
And his face, despite the ruthless scrubbings he'd inflicted upon
himself in the vain attempt to remove the "adult" make-up, was
still well and distinctly colored, emphasizing the delicacy of
his feminized features.

     But la piece de resistance was Sandy's miracle-of-modern-
science uncuttable manicure.  Just during the short drive to
Providence, Victor had already forgotten to keep those girl-claws
hidden in his fists at least five times that Jane had seen.  

     *It's going to work,* Jane thought relieved. *Taken as an
integrated whole, Victor's presentation literally shouts 'GIRL'
to any casual observer, except to the still-over-confident boy
himself. I'll have him back at Seasons House and in skirts before
tea time.*

     "To review our agreement, Victor," Jane said as she came
around the car to join him.  "You will make at least two full
circuits of the mall on your own.  I will follow, but at a
distance so that you will face the world on your own.  You must
make two stops at stores and buy at least one thing with the
money I've provided.  No knives, male clothing or girlie
magazines.  Something simple, not associated with either sex. 
You may then leave the mall triumphant.  If however, you are
challenged, or questioned directly about your sex, then you will
agree that I have won."

     "Yeah, yeah," he snapped, trying without success to hide his
taloned fingers in the too-tight pockets of the jeans.  "Let's do
it."

     "All right, young man.  Let's," Jane agreed.  "Good luck,"
she called after him as he hurried away. *He doesn't believe I
meant those good wishes,* Jane sighed inwardly. *It's just that
our definitions of what 'good' luck would be in this case are
diametrically opposed.  Lord, please let him fail here so he can
succeed later in my keeping.*

     ~---------------~

     The mall was of an older style, essentially a strip-mall
with a roof, and had few of the more-spacious amenities of the
modern super-malls.  The concourses were relatively narrow, and
for the most part, ran in straight lines so Jane had no
difficulty keeping an eye on her pupil as he bull-rushed his way
through the first circuit of the mall.  That strategy had the
advantage of shortening his time in the mall, but the distinct if
unrecognized disadvantage of drawing attention to the speeding
teen.

     By the time he'd reached the far end of the mall, Victor was
being examined, covertly by some and overtly by others, by nearly
every shopper he encountered.  The increasingly amused and
wondering looks on each passerby's face assured Jane that her
ploy was working. *Hmmm, I'd say my little program of studies has
been more successful than I thought.  Those are some rather
effeminate mannerisms and postures he's exhibiting.  Seems almost
second nature to the boy, too. Excellent.* 

     The first circuit of the mall, however, went without
incident, but Jane was not worried.  *At the rate he's going, he
might just make it out of the mall without anyone challenging
him,* she mused, *but I accounted for that in our negotiations. 
He cannot pass the test without going into at least two stores
and he will have to stop completely in order to buy whatever it
is he elects to purchase. That pause in his headlong charge
should be his undoing. I hope.* 

     Jane decided that his first loop of the mall was in the way
of reconnaissance - looking for the least 'dangerous' place to
make his required stops.  'Less danger', she was sure, meant few
people in the area and in particular, no young people.  Actually,
there should not have been any young people at the mall - school
was back in session and it was a Friday, after all, but Jane had
accounted for that in her selection of this mall for her little
test.  The shopping center was located just a short distance from
a local high school and was a favorite lunch stop for the older
students who considered themselves too mature for their school's cafeteria.

     *And isn't it fortuitous that it is just about lunchtime,*
Jane grinned to herself as she saw a large group of teens enter
the mall's main concourse heading for the food court. 
Unfortunately for Victor, their point of entry was by then behind
him so he did not see the newcomers until he turned to begin his
second loop and found himself face to face with a cluster of
rather boisterous teenaged males.  Recognizing the threat at
last, Jane watched as he tried to evade them by changing
direction, but that only served to catch their full attention . .
. and whet their curiosity.  In short order, Victor had at least
half-a-dozen of the boys following him down the mall.

     *Full marks for strategy and quick thinking,* Jane chortled
silently as he suddenly dove into a lingerie store - a maneuver
that served satisfied half of his store-stop requirement while
bringing his pursuers up short at the storefront door. *And that
counts as his first stop. Too bad there's only one entrance to
that store,* Jane thought. *Because unless he escapes soon, one
of those under-employed sales ladies are going to attempt to sell
him some frillies."

     As Jane predicted, Victor emerged from the store moments
later with two of the sales staff bearing down on him. He tried
to dodge the phalanx of still-waiting boys, but the exit was too
narrow and he found himself quickly surrounded.

     Jane suddenly found herself in something of a quandary.  If
she closed the group to a distance she could hear what was being
said, she might scare off the boys too soon.  On the other hand,
if she couldn't hear what was being said, she'd have only
Victor's account for what happened. *Would that be enough?* she
wondered.  She had come to believe that this student possessed an
innate honesty that would preclude him lying to her, but she
wasn't one hundred percent sure. *And a boy's future hangs in the
balance,* she reminded herself.

     She was close enough that she could make out voices, but not
the words being exchanged.  Victor said something to which the
largest of the boys replied. *At least he's keeping his word
about not using an artificially deep voice,* she thought. *I just
wish I could understand what was being said!* 

     It was the look of growing fear on the still-cornered
Victor's face as the boys closed in on him that made up Jane's
mind.  *This is wrong,* she thought and then moved decisively to
intervene. *I'll find another way to gain his cooperation, but
this test just came to an end!* Regardless of the greater goal,
she wasn't going to let one of HER boys be hurt or worse by this
scheme. 

     She'd just started to close when Victor suddenly gave a
panicky squeal and bolted, knocking over one of the boys in his
headlong flight. "VICTOR!" she called out to him, but he
evidently did not hear her, or if he did, chose to ignore her.

     He ran past Jane before darting down one of the mall's side-
halls.  Following as best she could, all the while cursing her
modestly-heeled shoes, Jane barely made it to the hall in time to
see him slip into a restroom.

     A men's restroom.

     *Gotcha!* she thought in relief as she settled on a bench to
await his return. *All I have to do is be here when he comes
out.*

     Twenty minutes later, however, she was still waiting for her
student to emerge and was beginning to grow anxious. *Is there a
window in there?  Or another door? Where IS he??!?*

     Another fifteen minutes passed with no sign of Victor and
Jane was very worried. *Why isn't there ever a security person or
reliable-looking male around when you need one?* she fumed,
scanning the mall concourse, and only then did she realize that
the boys who had frightened Victor so badly were still there -
waiting. *Well, I can do something about THAT, by God!*

     Jane Thompson rose to her full height and strode
purposefully over to the end of the hall where the six teens
congregated.  Her head high, Jane gave them each 'the look'
before asking, "Isn't it time you gentlemen returned to your
classes?"

     Three of the boys looked abashed while another two looked
expectantly to the obvious leader of their group.  Jane
recognized the cocky air and smug grin even before he opened his
mouth.  "What do you care," he said with a dismissive smirk.

     A mental picture of that somewhat overweight, pimple-faced
fool squeezed into one of her corsets and colored by Marie's
cosmetic artistry brought a chilling smile to Jane's lips.  Each
boy literally took a step backwards.  "Oh, I don't care," she
assured him sweetly.  "But I do enjoy my truant officer job with
the school district.  Did you know that every teen I catch
cutting classes loses driving privileges for six months?  Now, if
I might check your id's, gentlemen?  Just to make sure you're
over eighteen, you understand?"

     Their hasty retreat did a great deal to lighten Jane's mood
as she turned back toward the restroom.  A man was just emerging
from the door and Jane was wondering if she might ask him about
Victor when the boy burst from the restroom, nearly bowling over
an older woman in his flight.

     Relief poured through Jane as she hurried towards her
student, only to pull up short as she realized the woman was
busily berating Victor.

     ". . . The very idea," the white-haired woman fumed as
Victor literally cowered from her wrath, "running about like that
- heedless girl!  And from the BOY'S bathroom.  The very idea,"
she repeated, the 'finger of Mother' shaking furiously in
Victor's face.

     *Wonder if she's related to Edith White?* Jane considered
amused.

     After the outraged woman finally stormed away, Jane sidled
up to the thoroughly shaken boy.  When he didn't make any move to
escape or continue the test, Jane knew she'd accomplished her
objective - Victor was hers for the duration.  Just to be sure,
however, she asked "Do you want to try again?" as she approached. 
"Do you think you can make, say, four circuits without having any
MORE people accost you for your, shall we say, unmasculine
appearance?"

     "No. . please, no more.  You. . you win," he told her in a
thin, almost breathless voice.  "You win, just please, get me out
of here!" then he hiccuped out a sob, "Please."

     Nodding sternly, Jane offered him her hand as she would a
small child and was surprised when he took it.  "Very well.  Let
us leave, and don't worry about THOSE ruffians," she added. 
"Like all those who bully others weaker than themselves, they
were decidedly lacking in any real fortitude and ran as soon as I
challenged them."

     The allusion to bullies and their lack of personal courage
also struck home, Jane saw, again precisely as she had intended. 
In the final analysis, and despite the uncertain moments, it had
been a most successful excursion.

     
Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

Chapter 5: Recognition - Phase 1 

     Morning sunlight shone bright and clear through the old
glass windows of his Seasons House bedroom when Victor sat down
at the little vanity table to 'dress' for breakfast. And it had
been 'Victor' who sat there in those private, early-morning
moments before Ms. Thompson or Marie came to enforce their
feminine tyrannies on him.

     Or at least, it always had been until this morning. 

     Before when Victor Denato had looked at himself in that
mirror, his mind's eye had seen what he'd wanted to see reflected
there, regardless of how he was dressed or how he was made up by
the women of this house.  This morning, however, even he had to
admit the reality of the very feminine picture that stared back
at him from those silvered depths.

     He'd fallen into Ms. Thompson's trap so easily, he thought
sadly.  Fallen, hell, he'd jumped at her so-very-carefully-worded
challenge without a second thought, so cocksure that he could
handle anything she might dish up to him - because *he* was a
*man*!

     Right. 

     Memories, still painful and vivid, of the previous Friday's
mall disaster brought his attention back fully to the reflected
image before him. Whatever it was he saw gazing back at him from
the other side of the mirror, it was NOT a man. 

     With a critical eye for detail that had been beyond him as
little as a week earlier, Victor examined the entire package
presented before him. Now, he could see how the vividly blond
hairs softly curled and curved about his face, in a sleekly
feminine shape that no amount of brushing or slicking down could
make appear in any way masculine. 

     *Too bad I used the adult cosmetics in that last session on
Thursday instead of the washable kid-stuff Ms. Thompson gave me
for practice,* he mused ruefully. Although Marie had ensured that
every speck of make-up that could be removed had been ruthlessly
scoured away before going to bed each night, his face still
appeared elegantly made up. Nothing he'd done in the last four
days, including his just completed morning shower, had done
anything to cleanse those resilient cosmetics from his face. In
point of fact, if he were completely honest, what slight fading
there had been in those dyes since last weekend served only to
gentle their effect on his looks, making his face somehow subtly
more girlish, more pretty.  Certainly, the fine, highly arched
brows Marie had formed with her infernal tweezers did nothing for
his masculine self-image.  Perhaps if he'd tried to fill them in
using that eyebrow pencil, like he'd tried to do with his beard
he mused, but then, he hadn't thought of that.  Besides, Jane
would probably have called him on that as she had with the fake
beard.

     Idly, he brought up his hand to touch one plucked and
sculpted brow, and froze.  He'd almost forgotten those damned
nails Carolyn Beale and her witch-friend, Sandy, had stuck him
with - literally.  Designed to be 'bite-proof', these artificial
tips were an epoxy-based composite material - like the wings of
the Stealth Fighter, only clear and natural looking.  And
impossible to cut off.  Short of pulling his own out at the
roots, the only way to remove these was with some special kind of
solvent - something that was only available at the salon.  Even
without the lacquers and polishes Jane made him apply and remove
on almost a daily basis, the nails made his hands look, well,
really sexy - like they belonged to one of those 'hand-models'
he'd read about in the women's magazines that were now his only
literary entertainment.

     Taking his appearance as a whole, given his already small
stature, then there was absolutely no way that anything other
than what had gone down at that mall should have been expected.
It was now so clear to him - as clear as the reflected image in
his mirror.

     He looked like a girl.  

     Actually, he looked like a pretty damned pretty girl!

     *Too bad you were too stupid and too blind to see that
before last Friday,* he thought with a sigh, *but you were so
damned sure, so damned tough. No way Jane Thompson was going to
win that bet, was there?*

     It should have been a 'done deal'. Apply himself to his
lessons on Thursday, she'd take him on an outing as a male the
next day. After all those weeks in Jane Thompson's Fortress of
Satin, THAT alone should have been a welcome respite.  More
important, however, had been the rest of the deal. If he carried
himself as a male after 'giving his best effort to her lessons',
then Jane would admit that he was too masculine to learn anything
from her program and would release him to go home with no further
threats of jail hanging over his head.

     *A 'done-deal'? HAH! I should have known better,* he thought
with a rueful smile. *Or at least, I should have looked harder
for the gotcha.* 

     Oh, he'd been 'got' all right - big time.  More than the
Thompson woman realized, too, he reflected ruefully. *At least
she doesn't know the worst of it. Twenty minutes hiding in the
bathroom stall, afraid to come out because there were other guys
in there with me using the urinals. She'd never let me live THAT
down.  Thank God it wasn't any worse than it was.*

     With a sigh that equal parts gratitude for small favors and
resignation for large trials, Victoria Denato slipped into
character and carefully selected a foundation makeup from the
selection on her vanity. And for the first time, noticed
something was missing. *Odd, all that adult stuff is gone, after
I only got to use them the one time,* she mused. *Guess Ms. Jane
figures I need more practice with the 'age-appropriate makeup'. 
Am I supposed to regret failing that 'test', too?*  

     Victoria considered that for a while, and then shrugged when
no ready answer to that question came to her. *Actually, I am
still wearing them, aren't I?  And that is something of a
problem, too.* She sighed gustily. *Maybe if I can't wash away
those grownup cosmetics, I can at least cover them up a little.
Who knows? I might even get a few brownie points for effort.*

     After all, Victor had given his word in making that deal
with Jane Thompson.  It was up to Victoria to do her best to keep
the bargain.

     
Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

Chapter 6: Breaking Fasts, Breaking News

     There was a spring in Jane Thompson's step and a barely
suppressed grin on her lips as she entered the breakfast room to
greet her waiting student.  Two factors were primarily
responsible for Jane's excellent mood - the glorious sunrise
she'd watched astride her favorite mount, and the heady success
of her latest stratagem to bring this student finally to heel. 

     She was especially pleased to find Victoria (not Victor)
standing demurely beside her chair awaiting her teacher's
arrival. 

     *Actually,* Jane amended with a certain degree of self-
congratulation, *she's looking about as demure as she is capable
at this particular moment in time - which isn't much.  Well, that
is, at least indirectly, the child's own fault. If she hadn't
been such a little bitch, I wouldn't have needed to resort to
such tactics with her.*

     Of course, the lack of a big sister for this student was a
contributing factor, and that was one problem Jane could NOT lay
at the girl's door.  Marie had attempted to fulfill the 'spirit-
guide' role for Victoria, but unfortunately, without much
success.

     *Maybe Marie is just old enough these days not to be
considered 'trustworthy',* Jane thought as she pulled her own
chair out from the table. *Certainly, a real student has always
been more effective as my agent-provocatuese, but this is the
first time in recent memory that Marie hasn't been able to make a
close connection with a student.  Or maybe Victor is just harder-
hearted and more suspicious than our other students.*

     "Do sit down, Victoria," Jane ordered briskly as she
unfolded her own napkin, and then added, "Are you feeling all
right? Your color seems a bit . . . high today."

     As intended, that comment served to add other vivid, more
natural hues to the artificial ones the girl had used, without
much success, in her attempt to mask the brightly colored,
resilient cosmetics.  "No, I am fine, really," was the quiet
response.

     "Then it is your makeup.  It is inappropriate to the
occasion. Do attempt something more subdued for breakfast and
day-wear in the future.  It will help you. . . draw less
attention when we are out on the town again, eh?"

     "I TRIED," was the femininely turned out boy's knee-jerk
reaction to Jane's barb, but the recovery was just as quick. 
"Sorry, ma'am.  I'll try to do better.  Perhaps Ms. Marie can
show me a few more tricks today."

     Inwardly pleased with both the initial reaction and the
speedy retrenchment, Jane nodded. They could accomplish a great
deal of teaching in the week or so it would take those colors to
completely fade, particularly if this change of attitude on
Victoria's part continued. "A capital plan," she agreed briskly. 
"I think we will have you spend the morning working with Marie,
first on your cosmetics application and hair arrangement, and
then you will help with the luncheon preparations.  Then, this
afternoon, I will give you your first riding lesson.  You will
need to become a proficient rider since I fully intend you to
participate in our local Thanksgiving Parade this year as one of
the equestriennes."

     "Riding?" Victoria looked horrified.  "Rider? Equest. . . ?
You mean RIDING?  Like on a HORSE?" The last word was a squeak.

     "Yes indeed.  A very ladylike exercise," Jane replied as she
poured coffee into her cup. *And one that you apparently fear. 
Which means I will have you precisely where I want you -
teetering on the emotional precipice with only Marie and I to
hold the safety line.  Excellent.* "Yes, I think you will look
simply superb in a Victorian riding habit seated side-saddle atop
a tall, powerful stallion.  A side-saddle is a little less . . .
stable than riding astride, but it's really not all THAT
dangerous."

     The slightly green-about-the-gills look on Victoria's face
clear showed how little that appealed to the younger person, but
this time, her control didn't break .  "Coffee, dear?" Jane
asked, all sweet solicitude.

     Suddenly, the mood was interrupted as the kitchen door
slammed open, a stricken Marie stood there obviously bracing
herself against the jamb.  "Jane, something horrible has
happened. . .the television. . . oh god, do we know anybody who
works at. . . you've got to see this to bel. . .it's UN-
believable . ."

     Jane was instantly out of her chair, everything else
forgotten as she went to tend her best friend.  She was only
dimly aware that Victoria had also moved to Marie's aid as they
each took an arm to help the badly shaking woman to a chair. 
"Now, tell me, Marie," Jane said in a softly caring tone of voice
that Victoria had never heard from this stern woman before, "What
has upset you so?"

     "New York, Jane," Marie rasped out, "Oh God, there's been a
terrible accident - the World Trade Tower . . . a plane just hit
it."

     ~-------------~

     Sadly, by 9:30 that morning, it was painfully clear that the
first crash had not been an accident.  Jane, Marie and Victoria
joined a shocked world in watching as another plane crashed -
this one into the second World Trade Tower.  

     And then came the report of yet another aircraft suicide
attack - this one into the Pentagon.

     Although numbed by her own shock, the empathic Marie still
saw the change in her old friend at seeing the video that
accompanied the verification of the Pentagon attack. With that
recognition came understanding. Struggling at least to appear
calm and in control of herself, she rose and placed a gentle hand
on their student's shoulder.  "I think, Jane," she offered
softly, "that I will take Victoria up and begin her lessons for
today.  You'll be all right, won't you?"

     For a moment, Jane gave no response other than rapid eye
movements from Marie to Victoria and then back to the grim
pictures playing from the small television monitor.  "Jane?"
Marie asked again, more firmly this time.

     "Ye. . yes, of course," she finally managed, and then made
the effort of will necessary to put her student first.  "She
needs to learn how to correct. . .unfortunate color selections. 
Her cosmetic choices today are not appropriate for informal day-
wear."  If Jane's voice lacked its usual steely power, only she
and Marie recognized that deficiency.

     It was only after Marie had led the suddenly-acquiescent
child from the room that Jane recalled she had not discussed her
plans for Victoria's morning with her partner before that moment.

     Then Jane made a frantic grab for the antique phone on her
desk.

     
Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     
Chapter 7: Lessons Learned Hard

     Anything, Victoria told herself, any distraction at all was
better than listening to by now repetitious drone of the talking
heads on the television and radio stations.  "Ms. Thompson said
you'd help me with my face?" she prodded the older woman after
Marie's attention had slipped away yet again.

     "Your face?" Marie asked quizzically in the absent tones of
distracted.  

     Frowning, Victoria resisted the urge to snarl. *Like I
really want to play this game anymore,* she thought before
pointing to the starkly rendered highlights on her eyes,
cheekbones and lips.  "Remember? According to Ms. Thompson, I,
uhmm, was a bit too colorful for the breakfast table this
morning," she added with what she hoped was a self-deprecating
grin.

     "Oh. . .OH, I see," Marie finally managed after following
the student's gesture and recalling Jane's use of the special
deep-dying cosmetics.  She gave Victoria a more careful
examination and then nodded in understanding.  "Yes.  You tried
to paint pastels over the brighter colors, didn't you?" she
asked.  At Victoria's nod of admission, the Frenchwoman smiled
gently.  "Full marks for trying, dear, but you can't cover up
such intense colors with lighter ones, anymore than you could
cover up dark colored walls with plain white paint - you make
just the tiniest mistake and the dark shows through like a sore
thumb."

     "So what SHOULD I have done?  Would any of this stuff," and
Victoria waved her hand over the tube-and-pot-covered vanity
table, "have done me any good this morning?  Or was this just
another of those unpassable tests of hers?" 

     The sharp edge in the young person's voice brought Marie
back to her role in this drama directed by Jane Thompson - that
of apparent guide/companion to the student.  "No such thing," she
retorted more briskly.  "You simply needed to take a different
path to achieve your goal.  Instead of hiding the color, you need
to use more color to shade, blend and ultimately tone-down what
you already have on.  That way, any mistakes are not so obvious. 
Like this."  

     Almost operating on automatic now, Marie stretched her hand
out to make her first selection only to freeze in place when yet
another announcer began yelling over the radio, announcing the
catastrophic collapse of the second World Trade Tower and
conjecturing on the potential loss of human life.  It was the
last straw for the very softhearted woman, and she broke down
into wracking sobs. "I. . . I can't do this," she finally
whispered.  "I just can't."

     With a gentleness that would later surprise both of them,
Victoria reached up and took the hand that still hovered over the
ornate vanity table.  "Why don't we let this go until another
time?" she asked, her own voice cracking with emotion. "I don't
think I'd remember much of these lessons anyway."

     Suddenly, the two were locked in a tight, grief-sharing
embrace; offering and accepting comfort in ways that neither
would have believed possible mere hours ago.

     When they finally broke apart, both knew that something
fundamental had changed between them, although neither could
quite describe how or what.  For several more moments they
regarded each other through tear-damp eyes, their hands gripping
the other's forearms, their bodies still close, as they sought to
maintain that comforting physical and emotional contact just a
while longer.  "Well," was all Marie could manage as she finally
broke eye-contact with Victoria.

     "Why?" the young person managed to get out.

     "Why what, dear?" Marie asked.  "Why did I fall apart?"

     "No. .. no, not that . .  I mean, why did whoever did that.
. .," and her eyes went to the radio before coming back to stare
starkly into Marie's own dark ones, "Why did they do such a
horrible thing?!?"

     Marie sighed.  "I don't know why," she admitted.  "Some
might say they have issues with the United States and that
justifies them striking at us anyway they can."

     "But they didn't strike against the people who make the
decisions, or who they have issues with," Victoria replied.  "The
people in those towers were . . were just ordinary folks. If they
wanted to fight us, surely they could have picked a better
target."

     Marie's eyes flashed black with anger.  "Ha!  They're not
after a fight, they're after fear.  They know they can't really
fight us because they'd lose and they can't allow themselves to
appear weak.  Other people's fear makes them SEEM powerful, makes
them FEEL powerful, but the truth is that they're just cowards.
That's all they are - coward, plain and simple.  They think that
someone has hurt them, and okay, so maybe that is true. Perhaps
by not giving them something they wanted but did not really
deserve - whatever - but they are too cowardly to strike back at
the ones who have 'harmed' them, even by their own idiotic
definitions of 'harm'.  So they strike at the innocent and
helpless instead. 

     "But . . that makes no sense."

     "Who said something this. . . abominable has to make sense?"
Marie snorted.  "Someone, I think it was Stalin, said that the
purpose of terrorism is to terrorize - to make ordinary people
more afraid of the terrorists than the terrorists are of the
ordinary people. They seek to make the normal everyday life too
frightening; they want to deprive their victims of something they
value in order to elevate themselves and their cause."

     "But you called them cowardly," Victoria countered.  "They -
the ones who flew the planes into the buildings - they just died
for their cause, didn't they?  I mean, they had to know they
would die when they crashed the plane directly into the
buildings, right?"

     "Phaugh!"  Marie gave a derisive toss of her dark hair.
"Suicide has often been considered the 'coward's way out' and for
a very good reason.  A quick death is a *lot* easier for THOSE
types than truly working to solve the *real* problems we face. 
Those animals didn't suffer, and knew they wouldn't.  Don't tell
me that showed any courage." 

     "Still. . . " 

     "Still, nothing, child," Marie interrupted firmly.  "I don't
care if they all want to kill themselves.  But taking out their
anger at someone THEY fear, by committing mass murder on
defenseless third parties just because those people are easier
targets, well, that's just plain cowardice."

     "I. . . I see," Victoria finally managed to grit out. 
Swallowing hard, she eased further back from Marie, at last
letting go of the other woman.  "Ummmm, Ms. Thompson said I was
also to help you in the kitchen - for lunch preparations."

     Marie considered that, and then shook her head.  "Let's take
a pass on that for today, Victoria.  I need some time by myself
for a bit, and besides, lunch is going to be very simple today. 
I'm not up to preparing anything more complicated than Campbell's
soup and a sandwich."  At the surprised lift of the younger
person's brows, Marie felt a grin twitch. "I'll tell Jane it was
my idea.  You try to rest until lunchtime.  I think we'll all
need some time to deal with this. . .this horror."

     
Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     
Chapter 8: Recognition - Phase 2 

     "Cowards," he repeated the word for what had to be the tenth
time since the older woman had left.  The taste of it on his
tongue seemed to become more bitter each time he said it.  Lord,
but he wished he'd never asked Marie anything, that he'd just
kept to his plan to follow whatever orders the Thompson woman
gave to the best of his ability - to do whatever the hell it took
to get out of this pink-and-satin-madhouse and back to his real
life.

     It was the second instance where 'cowardice' and 'lack of
intestinal fortitude' had come up in just the past few days.  The
first had been during the challenge that had ultimately led to
his decision to get with the program here at Seasons House. 

     Victor wondered if HE would ever be able to let himself live
that down.

     "Coward," he said again, his eyes filling. How had Marie
defined that term? "Hurting innocents because you've been hurt
and can't or won't try to do anything about the real problems. 
Just hurting to make yourself seem more important."

     Victor had never felt so alone nor so unhappy in his entire
life.  The memory of Marie holding him, of him holding Marie
swamped him and then he remembered the comfort that moment of
sharing had given him.  Except, he thought as hot moisture began
to trickle down his cheeks, Marie wasn't here, and besides, why
would SHE want to . . . do THAT with him, anyway?  Thoroughly
miserable, the teen rose and began to wander aimlessly about the
frill-bedecked room.

     And then his eyes fell upon the bed, and on the bed in it's
place of honor was Pooh.  Victor had never so much as touched
that teddy bear in all the time since arriving at Seasons House. 
Victoria had only handled it when ordered to do so by one of the
two older women in conjunction with one of their exercises. 
After all, cuddling a stuffed bear was not something a teenager
should do, particularly a teenaged boy.  However, Victoria found
it impossible to pull her eyes away from good old Winnie.

     Suddenly, appearances no longer mattered to the distraught
youngster. Victoria let out a barely-stifled cry and hurried over
to the satin-quilted bed and the large furry stuffed toy. 
Without considering her clothes, the girl-boy threw herself upon
the bed and wrapped herself about the oddly-comforting toy.

     *God, what a horrible day!* she cried as she hugged Pooh to
her, *What a horrible, horrible day!*

     How long she cried, Victoria did not know - only that the
tears helped - at least a little.  Still clutching the comforting
toy to her stomach, she rolled over so that she could see the
glowing numerals of the digital clock radio.  Lunch would be
served soon, and her face was a mess. *Ms. Jane would have a
coronary,* she thought. *And my clothes and petticoat are so
badly wrinkled and bunched, I'd be lucky to be let off with just
one of her killer lectures.* On top of everything else, that
seemed to be a small concern, but Victoria decided she'd just as
soon not face THAT, too.

     Much to her surprise, she realized she felt better - the
stifling tension, at least, had eased. *Is that because I cried?*
she wondered as she disengaged herself from Pooh's now more-than-
slightly-damp clutches, and then decided she wasn't ready to know
the answer to that question.

     Stiffly, she arose from her bed, carefully settled her new
friend in a place of honor on the vanity and considered just how
she was going to repair the damage her mirror revealed.  "I just
wish there was something more I could do, Pooh," she said as she
began to cleanse her face.  "Something that would really help,
you know?"

     Pooh, unfortunately, had no ideas to offer either or at
least, none that he chose to share with the wan-looking teen. 
Sighing, Victoria reached over to turn on her radio, unable to
resist the urge to 'know the worst'. 

     ". . . and now a message from the Red Cross," the radio
announcer excited tones grated through Victoria's rattled
emotions.

     
Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     
Chapter 9: Student at the Brink - Opportunity and Crisis

     First, a piercing, three-pitch tone, several decibels above
the threshold of pain, nearly deafened Jane, then an oddly
metallic feminine voice added unnecessarily, "Your call cannot be
completed as dialed.  All circuits are currently busy.  Please
hang up and try your call again later."

     For several moments, Jane could only stare at the receiver
clutched tightly in her white-knuckled hand.  "Damn them," she
finally whispered at no one in particular before repeating the
words again, louder.  Then, she felt herself crack and she began
to sob.  "Oh, god, Will," she cried, not even hearing the
electronic beep that signaled a phone too long off its hook.

     "Is there anything I can do to help, Ms. Jane?" a soft voice
asked, breaking through Jane's misery. She looked up to see an
elegantly dressed vision standing in the doorway, looking at her
uncertainly. 

     *My God, is that Victor. . .I mean, Victoria?  Why, she's .
. . she's lovely.*  "Vic. . Victoria," Jane managed to get out
before adding, "What are you doing here?"

     Jane watched as her suddenly different student glided into
the study. "That's why," the girl said, pointing one pink-tipped
finger indicating the devastation pictured on the small
television Jane had been watching. "I need to talk to you about
something I heard on the radio." 

     Jane considered that for a few moments and then moved over
behind her desk.  "Sit down, Victoria, and tell me what you
want," she ordered. *Whatever this is, I don't want to deal with
it right now,* she thought.  With an extreme effort of will, Jane
settled herself in her chair and focused on her student.
Obviously, Victoria wanted something quite badly if she would
willingly brave the study to seek her teacher out. *But I have no
choice, do I? Perhaps dealing with whatever is bothering her will
give me something else to think about - for a few moments,
anyway.*  

     The girl sat, quite properly, too, Jane noted, and turned to
face her guardian. There was something different about her, too,
an openness in her eyes that Jane had never seen before. "The
radio said the Red Cross needs blood donations," Victoria began
quietly, "They especially need O-negative - the Universal Donor
blood-type because of the emergency stuff they're having to do
at. . .at . . . the, well, at the Towers." She paused for a
moment and Jane watched the girl gather herself. "I'm O-negative
and I would like to give." 

     Jane felt her mouth fall open in shock. She hadn't known
what to expect, but even so, that had been the last thing she
would have anticipated from this student. *Heavens, from ANY
student.  'Hey, Aunt Jane, let's go down town and give blood,
okay?'  WHAT IS GOING ON INSIDE THAT BLONDE HEAD!?!*  "I see,"
and then she finally managed to ask, "Why?" 

     "Because they need the blood," Victoria repeated in a tone
Jane thought was just a bit sharp, "for them." 

     Jane followed Victoria's gesture only to feel the tears burn
anew as scenes of a smoking Pentagon wall filled the screen. "It
really hurts you," Victoria said with a perception that surprised
Jane, "What's on the television. Did you. . I mean. . ."

     "Did I what?" Jane asked softly. 

     "Know someone who might. . might be in there?" 

     Jane wondered why the girl would even care, but smiled when
she saw the discomfiture that bespoke the girl's own surprise and
real interest. *Maybe she really does want to know.  Why not tell
her? That much isn't a secret.*  "One of my gir. . uh, students,
works in the Pentagon," she finally admitted. "I haven't been
able to reach he. . him or . . . his family. The phone circuits
are overloaded and I couldn't get through. Now they're asking
non-essential calls to New York and Washington be curtailed." 

     "They said that the part of the Pentagon that was damaged
was mostly empty - on account of it being renovated," Victoria
said, offering encouragement as best she could. 

     "I hadn't heard that," Jane admitted, too focused on her
worries to notice, let alone correct Victoria's grammatical
error. "Are you certain of that?" 

     "As much as I can be. I know I heard that at least twice on
the radio." Jane nodded, and then Victoria asked, "Was. . . your
student, that is, in the Army?" 

     "No," Jane answered with a shake of her head. "Marines,
actually." 

     "There's a difference?" Victor's voice asked.

     "According to the Marines, there is a world of difference,
child," Jane replied, a single brow lifted to show she had not
missed THAT verbal gaff. *Given everything that is going on
today, I'm surprised she is doing as well as she is. We can let
that one slide, I think.*

     Silence grew between the two as the repetitious and
unchanging reports of destruction, disbelief, terror and growing
anger sounded from the television. After several minutes,
Victoria did begin to fidget in her chair. "Ms. Jane? About my
request?" 

     "To give blood? I must ask you again, why do you want to do
that? Is this some scheme to get out of your skirts, Victoria?"
Jane demanded baldly, her eyes fixed on the girl to see how she
reacted to the question.

     "No," her student replied with an aura of calm that
surprised Jane even more. "It's not a scheme or anything else. I
just need to . . . to do. . SOMEthing!" 

     "Really? Well, I am sorry, but I'm afraid that is out of the
question," Jane said with what she hoped was some semblance of
her usual sharp tones. *Mostly because there is no way you'd be
anything but very effeminate, even in your trousers and I won't
have you humiliated when doing something that selfless,* she
added mentally before continuing. 

     "But the newscasters said they really need the blood!"
Victor's voice protested. 

     "As I told you after our little trip to the mall, you're in
skirts until I decide you've earned the privilege of trousers."
The vivid blush on her pupil's cheeks told Jane just how clearly
Victor/Victoria remembered that recent experience. "A
stipulation, I hasten to add, to which you agreed quite readily
just this very Saturday, in fact." 

     "I know that, Ma'am," the girl said softly. "That's why I
dressed so carefully. I don't think anyone would question me
dressed like this. We could go and give blood right now. No one
would have to know that I'm. . .that I'm anything other than what
I appear to be." 

     "I see," Jane said, somehow keeping the utter shock she was
feeling out of her voice, "but I don't think that will work. I'm
fairly certain that they, that is, the people who would be taking
and using your blood, would need to know you are really a boy
under that girlish finery. When they will test your blood,
they'll find male hormones instead of the female ones they
expect.  The Red Cross might well have to discard otherwise
perfectly acceptable blood. That would be a sad waste." 

     "So?" Victor's voice cracked through again, but he pressed
on as Victoria. "We just tell them who and what I really am once
we're inside the clinic where they take the blood. I can do that.
I WILL do that, Ms. Jane!" 

     *Amazing,* Jane thought shaking her head, *I really think
she means that.  She'd most likely recant at the last moment, but
right now, she actually believes she means it.  That alone
heralds a change in attitude that can only be positive.* However, 
Jane replied, "No, you will not.  I do not choose to have it
become general knowledge that some of my students are . . .
'troubled.'  That would cast unwarranted aspersions on prior
students and those to come after you.  We must solve your
problems without harming others in the process.  And I believe
your experiences this previous weekend demonstrated the futility
of you trying to appear masculine?"     

     A stubbornly determined frown lined the prettily made-up
face. "If that is what's required, then that's what I'll do!" At
Jane's challengingly lifted brow, Victoria continued. "I'll go to
a clinic, dressed just like I am right now. I'll tell them I am a
really a boy who's being punished by being made to wear girl's
clothes, but . . . " 

     "But?" *ah- HA! Here it comes.  'Couldn't Miss Marie hide
the girlish parts, Ms. Jane?  Just until we get back?' or some
such plot.  I'm almost tempted to accommodate her, but I'd have
to watch her like a hawk.  And she still might slip away.  I just
cannot risk it.*

     "Well, I sort of figured you must know someone in the
medical field - in case I got hurt or sick, you know? Someone who
could take my blood, fill out the paperwork correctly, but not
give away my secret?" 

     A thoughtful look crossed Jane's drawn features, but "I'm
not sure that would work," was all she said. 

     "Would you at least check, please? And if that won't work,
then I still want to donate the blood they need, Ma'am, even if
it means admitting to. . .," Jane saw the child had to swallow
hard before she could continue, "to being a boy who likes to wear
girl's clothes and stuff . . . or to being a boy who's being
punished by being made to dress up like a girl." 

     *There is someone,* Jane thought of Nora Bedford, her nurse
friend who was part of her little circle of helpers, *But she may
be too busy for such things just now.* 

     "I see," Jane finally managed as her own emotion-fogged
brain tried to make some sense of this unanticipated development.
*Hyperbole or truth?  Can Victoria actually realize what that
would mean to her future? The potential harm she might suffer if
it became known she crossdressed?  Surely not.* In the end, all
she did was ask, "Why?  You're telling me that you would break
your cover just to give blood? Again, I have to ask why?"

     For the first time since Victoria had stepped into the room,
her emotional control slipped and having slipped, shattered
altogether. Jane watched as the girl-boy again swallowed hard and
closed her eyes tightly to fight against the need to cry, but it
was a losing battle. "Because. . . because. . ." 

     "Because why, child?" Jane prompted as she handed the girl a
tissue. 

     "BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE THE ONES WHO DID THIS!!"
she burst out and then bolted from the room, slamming the door
behind her. 

     
Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     
Chapter 10: One Small Step for a Cross-Dressed Boy

     For several moments, Jane could only stare at the still
vibrating door.  Her emotion-overloaded mind struggled to make
some sense of that confrontation. "Damn!" Jane sighed finally,
"Why now, Lord? How am I supposed to deal with a student's major
transition crisis point when I am having a crisis of my own?"

     Jane allowed herself to wallow in a few more seconds of self
pity before literally shaking herself. She would deal with her
student's crisis because that was what she did - helping her boys
when they needed her help.  And because this cusp looked to be
the culmination of everything she had worked for since the moment
she'd first met him at the Kingston Train Station - heavens,
since the moment she had first read through the record provided
by his social worker. 

     "Might even take my mind off. . .Wilma. . . I mean,
William," she whispered to herself.  

     Jane took one last look at the smoke-dominated New York
skyline before switching her television off.  Squaring her own
shoulders, Jane strode off to the kitchen to find Marie.  

     ~-----------~

     "Amazing," Marie murmured after Jane had described her
session with Victoria.  "And you think he'd really do that?"

     Jane let out a frustrated breath and sat down heavily on one
of the kitchen stools Marie used when teaching cooking to a
student. "I really don't know.  After his behavior at the mall,
I'm surprised he'd offer to go out anywhere in public, let admit
publicly to being a cross dressed male. I'm almost tempted to try
setting something up just to see what the child would do."

     "Well, Victoria certainly surprised me during our lesson
this morning, let me tell you," Marie added as she began to
prepare Jane's favorite tea.

     "Surprised you?  Do tell me how, please."

     Marie quickly gave Jane the highlights, concluding with a
description of their emotional-charged hug.

     "Amazing, indeed," Jane replied pensively.  "And you're
quite convinced that was not part of some type of deep ploy on
Victoria's part?"

     Marie's rude snort would have shocked their student.  "Not a
chance, Jane. I know real emotion when I see it and feel it, and
that child *needed* to be held; needed to hold someone else in
return.  I can't say she needed to hold me because she sensed my
own need, but there was nothing devious about her.  Heavens, no
child is that Machiavellian."

     "Let us hope not," Jane smiled as she accepted the
fragrantly steaming cup Marie proffered her. "I must say, though,
that if this is the critical point in Victor's first phase, it is
unique."

     "Never had a boy want something so badly that he was willing
to admit being dressed as a girl to a stranger to get it, have
we?"  Marie said with a hint of the mischievous grin she usually
took care to hide from Jane's boys.

     "No, we haven't, which leads to the key question.  What do
we do about it?  If we ignore this opportunity, or do nothing
with it, who knows when or IF we'll get another chance with this
one.  Lord knows but he's been a royal pain in the. . . he's been
rather difficult to date."

     "Oh, I know precisely where this one has been a pain, dear,
but couldn't you set something up?  I'm sure Nora would be
willing.  How about Michael?  He's a medical resident now, so
he's a licensed physician, and depending on how you set it up, he
could be either Michael or Michelle."

     "Michael or Michelle?"  Jane asked aloud even as she mulled
over the possibilities presented by Marie's idea.

     "Michelle, if you think keeping this 'just between us girls'
is still the best idea, or Michael, if you decide that forcing
the issue of having our dainty young tough admit to an unknown
adult male that he is a boy underneath all that lace and satin
might have some benefit. We've never tried anything like that
before."

     "And therefore have no idea what might happen if we tried."

     Marie gave a Gallic shrug of her shoulders.  "So, have
Michelle attend him, and then later, if you think of some way to
further your aims in that direction, have Michael appear on the
scene, admitting to having been Michelle."

     "Let me think about it," Jane said, finishing her tea and
rising to her feet.  "In the meantime, I will call Nora and
Michael to see if they can even help with this little project."

     "Ask Michael about Michelle versus Michael.  After all, he
is a psychiatrist now," Marie put in.

     "ONLY a *resident* psychiatrist," Jane retorted before
smiling.  "But I will ask him anyway.  Thanks, dear."

     ~----------------~

     An hour later, Jane was back in the kitchen.  "Marie, have
you seen Victoria?  I just got off the phone with Michael and
Nora and I think we have a workable plan in place.  At this very
moment, in fact, Michael is heading for that clinic he volunteers
at on weekends. Nora will meet us there, in her 'nurse-role' at
about four PM - just before the clinic's doors close for the day.
She'll escort Victoria back to the examining room and take her
personal information for the record, whereupon our little Miss
will have to decide whether or not to divulge her little secret."

     "What if she doesn't?" Marie wanted to know.

     "Nora will correct the personal information per my
direction.  Victoria is correct that there is a real shortage of
the O-negative blood type and it would be thrown away if the
indicated sex of the donor did not match the blood chemistry. 
Then I'll figure out some way to get our student to admit she
wimped out at the critical moment - again."

     "And if she tells Nora the truth?"

     "Then Michael will come out and interrogate her a bit, just
to see what she'll say, and call me into the examining room to
question me."

     "Isn't that pushing the child a little hard?" Marie asked. 
"After all, as we both agreed earlier, we've never gone this far
before."

     "My money is that she won't admit to being a boy, anyway, so
what we're really doing here is setting the stage for the next
scene in our little drama of Little Red Riding Victoria and the
Big Bad Jane.  I'll go get dressed while you find Victoria and
help her dress.  Something feminine, but not prissy.  There ought
to be some reward for at least offering to go so far.  Still,
with any luck, there still might be a patient or two in the
waiting room when we arrive."

     "I told her to rest before lunch, Jane.  She is probably in
her room."

     A frown creased Jane's smooth brow.  "I already went there
first," she told her friend.  "Actually, I was rather surprised
she wasn't down here helping you with lunch."

     The shorter woman gave a Gallic shrug.  "Maybe she went for
a walk - to escape the radio and TV coverage.  Lord knows I wish
I could stop watching and listening."

     "I'll go check outside," Jane said striding for the kitchen
door. Moments later, she was back, a very worried frown marring
her handsome face.  "Old Tom said he hasn't seen her all morning
- nor has Young Tom.  Help me look for her, Marie.  Maybe it's
just nerves and tension from the awful things that have happened
today but I have a bad feeling about this."

     A quick search of the mansion turned up no sign of Victoria
until they began a second search through the girl's room. 
"What's that?"  Marie said looking at the vanity's table top. 
"That wasn't there this morning. . . "

     Jane watched as Marie picked up an unsealed lavender
envelope and extracted from it a matching sheet of scented
stationary.  The dark-haired woman's eyes went wide as she
scanned the note before passing it towards Jane.

     
          "Dear Ms. Thompson and Marie," Jane read
          aloud,
          
               "I understand your concerns about my
          wanting to donate blood, but this is
          something I have to do.  I promise I will
          return once I've finished.  I know you have
          no reason to trust that promise, but one sin
          I've never committed is to break my word of
          honor once I've given it.
          
               I will, of course, accept whatever
          punishment you decide this deserves, even if
          that means going to juvie.  I should be back
          no later than seven o'clock.  I have your
          phone number and will call if I get into
          difficulties.  You can decide if you want to
          help me out of those.
          
               Yours Sincerely,
          
               Victor/Victoria."
          
               
Jane let the hand holding the note drop limply to her side and
for a moment, could only stare at Marie.  "The little fool," she
finally managed.  "What if she. . he gets hurt?"

     "There's not much traffic this time of day," Marie put in. 
"She can't have reached the main road yet, even if she left right
when you first came into my kitchen."

     "You're right," Jane said, thinking quickly, "especially if
she didn't change because the two-inch heels she was wearing when
she came to my study will make for hard walking."

     "Those two-inch heels?" Marie asked, pointing to a
carelessly discarded pair partially hidden beneath the make-up
table.

     "Damn!" Jane breathed. "Well, if she took the time to
change, she still can't be all the way to the road.  I'll follow
in the car while you. . ."

     A single palm came up in the 'Stop' signal as Marie shook
her head.  "I'm going with you, Jane."

     Jane wanted to argue that it would be better if someone was
by the phone, but could tell that her friend would not be put
off. Rather than waste anymore time, she simply acquiesced.  "Oh
very well.  I will get the car - you set the phone to
automatically forward any incoming calls to my cell-phone.  I
will meet you out front in two minutes."

     ~-------------~

     Two and half minutes later, Jane's beloved black Lincoln
roared out the gates of Seasons House, heading down the scenic
country road that led to the nearest main thoroughfare. Another
four minutes and two miles later, they found their quarry, jog-
walking down the berm of the macadam-paved roadbed in the
direction of the main road to Kingston.

     "My god, I don't believe it," Jane breathed as she pressed
down on the car's accelerator.

     "Can't believe what?" Marie asked, her eyes locked on the
now-aware and sprinting figure.

     "I can't believe how he's dressed," was the answer.  "After
what he went through Friday, I thought he'd never put those
things on again.  It's why I didn't tell you to remove them from
Victoria's armoire.  I thought they'd be a useful threat down the
road."

     "Guess he found another use for them," Marie said
sardonically as she too recognized Victor's mall-outing ensemble. 
"Although *he* doesn't look much like a *he* in them."

     "That was the point, dear, now get ready to jump out - I'm
going to cut him off.  It's time to put an end to this farcical
chase scene."

     ~-----------~

     "What a DAY!!" Jane cried as soon as Victor had gone up to
Victoria's room to change and she and Marie were again alone in
the study. "It's enough to drive a sane woman to drink and I am
beginning to doubt whether I am particularly sane or not."

     "What will you do next?" Marie asked quietly.

     Eyes, stark with concern and still red-rimmed from more than
one bout of tears, stared back at Marie.  "I just don't know,
Marie," Jane finally admitted after a long pause.  "On one hand,
what he was attempting to do was . . . I don't know, incredibly
stupid.  Suppose he'd gotten picked up by some. . . some pervert
out there?  Dressed as he was?  Made up as he is? Oh, god, Marie.
. ."

     Instantly, Jane found herself enveloped in Marie's arms. "It
didn't happen.  Nothing bad happened."

     "But it could have!"

     "But it didn't, and now you have to decide what to do next. 
It was a rather noble thing to attempt, you know," Marie added. 
"After his rough experiences last weekend in that very outfit, no
less. I'd say that bodes rather well for the next stage of his
program, eh?"

     "If he'd managed to get there and if he'd actually submitted
himself to the scrutiny and potential humiliation of so public an
appearance," Jane sniffled into Marie's comforting shoulder.

     Marie patted Jane's shoulder comfortingly. "Well, you could
always see what he'd really do - see if he really meant what he
said."

     Jane went very still before pulling back so she could see
Marie's face clearly.  "How?" she asked, one brow quirked in
challenge.

     "Well, you haven't told Victoria that you've set anything
up, right?"

     "There hasn't been time. So?"

     "Well, come into my kitchen, and let me tell you my devious
little scheme."

     
Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     
Chapter 11: Blood Will Tell

     It was strange, Victoria reflected as she sat in the
antiseptic-perfumed ambiance of the storefront clinic's waiting
room, to feel both hot and cold at the same time.  The 'hot' part
was relatively easy to explain - that the room's air conditioner
was either broken or turned off as a money-saving measure.  The
stuffy, small, windowless room with its stained pastel walls and
cracked-vinyl furniture had to be over eighty degrees - WELL over
eighty degrees.  The cold she sensed, however, came from inside -
from that freezing knot deep in her gut that seemed to grow
bigger every moment she sat there.

     Waiting.

     *At least we're alone now,* she thought with some relief. 
There'd been a young mother with a cranky baby waiting for the
doctor when Ms. Thompson had ushered her into this room. 
Thankfully, the woman had been too busy trying to calm the child
to look too closely at Victoria, and the infant's loud wails had
made conversation, even lectures, impossible. *Every silver
lining has a cloud,* she mused ruefully.

     A nurse entered the waiting room and looked down at her
clipboard.  "Victoria Denato?" she asked.

     "Yes, Ma'am," she answered softly.

     "If you'll come with me, please," she ordered, turning on
her heel.

     Victoria rose to her feet and straightened her skirt.  "Ms.
Thompson?" she asked hesitantly, looking down at her guardian who
made no move to rise.

     "Just go and get it done, Victoria," Jane ordered, her
features stony.  

     "Yes, Ma'am," the girl repeated and then turned to follow
the nurse. *Guess it's not surprising she is still pi. . .I mean,
upset,* she thought. *She sure was angry when she got us home and
there hasn't been all that much time for her to calm down since. 
Well, at least I'm getting my chance.*

     Jane had ordered Victor to Victoria's bedroom immediately
after they'd arrived back at the house following his abortive
attempt to get to Kingston.  A short time later, she had entered
into her student's bedroom with Marie in tow.

     "So, you want to donate blood, eh?" she'd stormed at him. 
"So badly that you break your promise to stay here and obey my
orders? Your promise to stay in skirts until *I* decide you've
earned the privilege of trousers once more? Well, we _could_ have
worked something out that didn't put your secret identity at risk
- _could_ have arranged for you to donate time at the blood bank
helping prepare the donations of others.  That would have been
just as helpful.  Or you _could_ have helped collect blankets and
clothing for those who lost their homes.  There are a lot of ways
you could help those poor people that would not require you to
break your promise to me by running away."

     "I'm sorry, I . . .I couldn't do that . . .  I mean, I
couldn't help in the blood bank, . . .but . .but, well, I just
had to give blood back to make up for . .  I mean, giving blood
was just the right thing."  

     "Well, right or not, it is certainly the thing you're going
to do now - today, in fact.  Unless you chicken out at the last
minute and faint at the sight of the needle or do something
equally girlish.  As to how you deal with the truth of your
identity, you're going to have to decide for yourself just how to
address that little problem, but you ARE going to the clinic. 
Understand?"

     "Yes, Ms. Thompson," Victoria had answered, her voice very
small.

     "Very well.  Marie will help you dress.  Do TRY and at least
LOOK like a young lady, if you please?  I would prefer not to be
humiliated by a student yet again this day."

     After that scene, Victoria had fully anticipated being
rigged out in one of Jane's 'Raggedy Anne/Shirley Temple'
abominations, but the outfit wasn't all that bad.  Actually, all
things considered, Victoria reflected as she entered a cramped
examining room, Marie's selections were really very attractive. 
A white blouse, tailored skirt and blazer, hosiery complemented
by matching heels and coordinating jewelry completed her
presentation. *If my hair were auburn instead of this bleached
blonde, I'd look almost like a mini-Jane,* she realized, a
thought that was oddly pleasing to the confused teenager. *Look,
Ma, I'm a growed up girl - just like you!*

     "If you'll take off your blazer, Miss Denato, so I can take
your blood pressure and pulse, we can get the paperwork filled
out so you can donate.  I must say, you are a very brave girl to
be willing to do this, and we do need your type of blood just
now. . . well, you know why."

     "Yes, Ma'am. . umm. . Nurse Bedford," she said, reading the
name tag pinned to the woman's uniform lapel, "I had to do
something, you know?"

     "Well, if you will fill out this form for me," Nurse Nora
Bedford said with a smile, "I will get set up for you in there. 
Be just a minute."

     The nurse left and Victoria scanned the form - and stopped.
*Sure didn't have to read far, did I?  Third block after I fill
in my name - Sex: M or F.  I could get away with just putting 'V.
Denato' down for my name, but if I leave the sex block blank,
they'll just ask, and if I lie, Jane said that they will have to
discard the blood.*

     The mocking look on Jane's face when she'd told him he could
go 'girly' came back to him, followed by the darker memories of
that morning's disaster in Manhattan.  Swallowing hard,
Victor/Victoria picked up the pen and boldly marked the form.

     Moments later, the nurse returned to take her into the room
where the donation rig was set up.  "You just take a seat, dear,"
she told Victoria and pointing to a chair.  "The Doctor will be
with you for the final checks before we start.  Since you are
still a minor, we need both your guardian's and the doctor's okay
before we draw your blood.  Only be a minute."

     ~-----------~

     Jane looked up from her conversation when Nora walked into
the small office. "Well, Michelle," the nurse began with a grin,
"You ready to go on, dear?" 

     "Doctor Nash, puh-lease, Nurse," the other person in the
room said with exaggerated hauteur, "You don't want to slip up
when we go in there, do you?  Or are you telling me that 'Plan
XX' is on for tonight?" Michael Nash, MD asked as he walked over
to the table where a wig-stand held a blonde wig attractively
done-up in a tight, professional-looking French braid.

     "Well?" Jane demanded.  "How did she fill out the form,
Nora?  Does Michelle unmask Victoria, or does Victor explain to
Michael why he is here in skirts?"

     Nora grinned again, and passed the completed medical form to
Jane who looked at it, and then repeated herself.  "Well."

     ~-----------~

     Victoria had wanted to run at least four times since the
nurse had left the room, but in the end, had stayed where she
was.  For one thing, she wasn't going to give in this time. 
She'd made her commitment and she would see this thing through. 
For another. . 

     Her thoughts were interrupted when a slim, not-very-tall
young man in old-fashioned horned-rim glasses entered the room
followed by the nurse.  He had a stethoscope hanging about his
neck and a frown on his face.  "Excuse me, Miss Denato," the
doctor whose name tag marked him as 'Dr. Nash', but we need to
clear up a mistake on your form here.  You must misread the 'sex'
question because you 'x'ed the block for males."

     Victoria swallowed hard, *I seem to be doing a lot of that
lately,* she thought numbly.  "Ummm. . .it. . .it wasn't a
mistake.  I really am a boy.  My name. . . my name is Victor. .
Victor Denato."

     Light blond eyebrows went high on the doctor's forehead. 
"Victor?  Pardon me, Miss. . umm. . Vic, but you don't look like
a Victor.  I think you need to explain this to me."

     Closing his eyes, Victor stifled yet another urge to flee. 
He'd known this was coming, and had done little but think about
his answer ever since Jane had come into Victoria's room to order
her to dress for this excursion.  It had occurred to him, right
from the beginning, that he could get the Thompson woman in very
deep trouble if he played this scene out right.  Bleeding heart
doctor, the kind who worked in a knothole storefront clinic like
this, would probably be willing to believe the worst about
Victoria's situation.  Probably go running off to social services
so fast it would make Jane's head swim.

     But he wasn't going to do that, which didn't leave him a
great many options.  There just were not many reasons a boy could
use to explain wearing girl's clothing - not without the person
receiving the explanation concluding that either Victor or Jane
or both were in serious need of a headshrinker's help.  He'd even
thought about hinting that he was considering that operation he'd
read about - the one where they made a guy into a girl - and was
practicing - just to find out if that was what he wanted.  But
there were dangers there, too. 

     *When all else fails, tell the truth, right?* Victor almost
had to force his voice down to his 'normal' range.  "Well,
Doctor, I have this problem - with my temper?"

     The doctor simply stared at him, giving no indication of
what he thought about that. *You'd almost think he'd taken
'stone-face lessons' from Ms. Jane,* Victor thought resigned. 
"Well, it's like this.  Ms. Thompson thought, and I have to
agree, now anyway, that being. . . well, dressed like this, sort
of forces me to stop and think before. . .well, before I do
something bad."

     "Bad?" Doctor Nash asked.  "What do you mean by 'bad'?  And
how does looking like a young Britney Spears stop you from doing
that something bad?"

     "I beat up people, Doctor, all of them smaller than me, when
I get mad," Victor admitted in a very quiet voice, and for the
first time, felt ashamed of that particular fact.  "Or I used to,
that is. I'd get upset at someone. . .someone I couldn't. .
.someone I didn't think I could take because he was bigger than
me, and so I would take my temper out on someone I could take. 
Ms. Thompson thought being in a dress, having to act like a girl,
I couldn't, you know, do that without people figuring out I'm a
guy.  If I got picked on for being small, that would be nothing
to what I'd get if people thought I was a, well, a sissy."

     "That's the truth?" Dr. Nash pressed, "You're sure you are
not being abused here by that woman? Just give me the word and
I'll call Family Services.  You'll be out from under her control
in five minutes."

     Victor felt himself go very still.  Here it was - his way
out, and he hadn't even tried to make it happen.  He could
probably pull it off without even saying a word just by looking
really worried or scared.

     *. . . .'That would cast unwarranted aspersions on prior
students and those to come after you.  We must solve your
problems without harming others in the process' . . .* he
remembered Jane saying. Did he want to be responsible for that? 
After all, who were those people to him? *No, _I_ must start
solving my problems without harming anyone else in the process.*

     
Victoria schooled her features and smiled tremulously up at the
doctor.  "It's not abusive, sir, and it IS working.  For me, at
least," she said with as much confidence as she could muster. 
"Ms. Thompson was right about thinking first now.  This is my
choice."

     The young doctor remained impassive for several moments and
it took all of Jane's hard-taught lessons for Victoria to keep
herself from squirming or from looking away from the steady gaze. 
Finally, he shook his head.  "All right, then. If you say so. 
Nurse, let's pull this pint and let _Victoria_ get on with her
business."

     Nurse Bedford pushed a rolling stand with a clear plastic
bag and an attached tube hanging from it.  "Ummm, Doctor?  I, uh,
don't have to see the blood, do I?"

     A smile softened Dr. Nash's face.  "No.  We can hide it
behind you. Got a problem with blood?"

     Victoria grimaced.  "Last guy I hurt fell and cut his
scalp," she admitted with a shudder.  "God, but I thought he was
bleeding to death.  It was everywhere."

     "No problem.  Just relax and it will be over before you know
it.  Nurse?  If you would do the stick, please?  I need to check
on our other patient."

     "Yes, Doctor."

     ~-------------~

     "What on EARTH were you thinking in there, Michael Nash?"
Jane snarled when the young man she thought of as her first son
reentered the office.  "Don't you think you took a terrible
chance with that last offer to go to family services?!?!"

     "Eavesdropping, were you?" he asked, unrepentantly.

     "Suppose he'd told you to make that cursed call?  What
then?"

     "_SHE_ wasn't going to do that," Michael replied
confidently.  "I've been a Big Sister often enough to tell when a
kid has turned the corner, Momma-Jane.  All I did was make HER
realize that fact, too."

     "I almost had an old fashioned attack of the vapors," Jane
muttered darkly before walking over to embrace his slim frame.  "Thanks."

     "De Nada, Momma-Jane.  I'm just glad I didn't have to play
the outraged Doctor Michelle who 'discovers' he's a boy. I wasn't
really comfortable with Plan XX, mostly because you have never
really 'outed' one of your students. From a psych profile, we
just don't have any history with which to predict how he might
have reacted to that type of shock. Public unmasking has always
been the biggest stick in your arsenal, but it's always been only
a threat.  He could have decided that there just wasn't anything
worse you could have done to him after that." 

     Jane shrugged.  "I suppose, but then again, I didn't think a
direct untruth on the form was likely.  Whatever his faults,
Victor Denato isn't a liar.  He's a bully, but that's more a sign
of cowardice than outright deceit.  IF he didn't follow through
and admit his masculinity in order to donate blood, he would have
taken the other option I teased him with - having a very girlish,
very loud panic attack and chickening out altogether. *Before* he
filled out the gender block in your form.  Having said that, I
agree that it appears we've turned a big corner today, and for
that, thank you again, dear."  

     "Most fun I've had since. . . well, since Michelle visited
the nursing dormitory showers at the hospital."

     "MICHAEL!" Jane half growled, half laughed.  "You didn't."

     Before Michael could reply, the door burst open.  "Michael?
Come quick - Victoria just fainted.  I, uh, made the mistake of
letting her see the full bag. I guess she really doesn't like the
sight of blood."

     ~-----------~
Victoria was on edge the entire drive home waiting for Jane to
poke at her for fainting - 'just like a girl.'

     But to her surprise, Jane did not utter a word from the
moment she helped her student into the car at the clinic until
they walked through the door of Seasons House.

     Marie met them in the foyer.  "Marie?  A snack, please. 
Victoria needs to take in fluids and some carbohydrates.  A light
tea would go well, I think, in the music room.  Join us there?"

     "Just a few minutes, Jane.  I just need to brew the tea." 

     In the music room, Jane turned to face her student.  "I owe
you an apology, Victoria."  

     "Huh? I mean, I beg your pardon?" her student blurted, eyes
wide with surprise.  

     Jane nodded.  "I questioned your personal courage and
commitment to your proposed course of action, today. No coward
would have done what you did today, my girl.  You did a very good
thing today and I am proud that Victoria Denato is my student.  I
am prouder of you." 

     For several moments, all Victoria could do was stare at her
teacher, and then, "Ex... excuse me, Ms. Jane," she squeaked and
then rushed from the room, one hand to her stomach, the other
covering her suddenly burning eyes.

     
Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     
Chapter 12: Just the Bear Facts, Ma'am

     A cool breeze rustled through the lacy curtains as beams of
silvery moonlight cast soft shadows about the darkened boudoir.
Lost in thought, Victoria Denato sat cross-legged upon her bed's
satiny comforter, not realizing that her right arm was securely
wrapped about Poohbear's thick, fuzzy torso.  The elbow of her
other arm was planted in the crook of one knee, her chin resting
upon that upraised hand.  It had been a very long day, an
incredibly awful long day, and yet, she felt oddly at peace. 
That was, she decided, a very strange way to feel, given her
current circumstances and worse, the truly horrific events of
that very morning, but she had also concluded that she knew the
reason for how she felt.

     Ms. Jane was proud of her.

     And no one had ever said those words to her before.  Always
before it had been, "Why are you always in trouble?" or "Why
aren't you getting better grades?" or "Mrs. 'Thus-and-so's' boy
did 'such-and-such' and why can't you?"  Or more recently the
hated "Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"  That one he had been
asking himself only too often of late.

     Whatever those questions indicated, it wasn't pride, and Ms.
Jane had said she was proud.  Maybe, for the first time, Victoria
Denato had something really to be proud of. *Ooops, watch your
grammar, young lady* she reminded herself in mental tones any
former Seasons House student would easily recognize. *Ms. Jane
would have your as. . .umm, rather, Ms. Jane would correct you
instantly and emphatically for ending a sentence with a
preposition.* And then she laughed at herself.

     So, Ms. Jane's pride in her made her feel good - proud of
herself, truth to tell.  Why was that so different?  Hadn't that
been one of Victor's biggest problems?  Pride?

     "What do you think, Pooh?" she asked, suddenly aware of the
furry body cuddled up close to her silk-clad self, but even then
didn't move to break the contact.  "Maybe it's because back then,
I really didn't have anything about which I should have been
proud?  How's that for finishing a sentence without a
preposition, silly-old-bear?  I almost said 'proud of' again, but
caught myself at the last second."

     She thought about that for a while longer. *Yes, I think
that is it.  I feel good because this time the pride means
something - the thing I am proud of having done is worthwhile -
unlike knocking over a some undersized kid and making him bleed. 
'Course, both have blood involved.  So, what do I do next?*

     She never answered that question because in the next moment,
Jane's voice, raised to shrill, piercing scream, rattled
Victoria's door.

     "MARIEEEEE!!!  MaRIIIEEEE!!!  He's OKAY!!  I just TALKED TO
HIM!  MARIIIEEEE!!!"

     Victoria was off the bed and out her door before she quite
realized how.  In the hallway, she found a nightgown-garbed Jane,
a wildly smiling yet tear-streaked Jane all but skipping about at
the foot of the stairs that went up to Marie's third-floor
apartment.

     "Ms. Jane?" Victoria asked, "What is it?"

     "He's all right," Jane half laughed, half sobbed.  "I just
got through.  He wasn't hurt at all."

     "Your student?" Victoria asked.  "The one you were so
worried about earlier today when I came to your study?"

     "Yes, Victoria, that's precisely who I mean," Jane replied
joyfully.  "Wilm. .. liam is well and truly all right."

     Without thinking, Victoria reached out to Jane who more than
met her latest student halfway.

     ~-----------~

     Marie had paused only to grab and throw on a wrapper before
hurrying down the stairs to answer Jane's summons.  Every breath
was another prayer as she ran down the steps to burst into the
hallway of the second floor.

     And stopped in her tracks at what she saw . . .

     There, in the middle of the hallway, locked in an embrace
and dancing some unnamed primal dance was Jane Thompson, Victoria
Denato, and Winnie the Pooh.

     "He's okay, Ms. Marie!" Victoria crowed when she caught
sight of the dark-haired woman just standing there and gawking.
"Ms. Jane's student didn't get hurt today.  She just talked to
him!  Isn't that GREAT??!?"

     "Just great," Marie whispered and then, after a moment's
thought, cut in to join the odd circle of merrymakers.

     ~-----------~

     "She's asleep," Marie said as she entered the parlor in
Jane's private parlor, a tea tray in her hands.  "I checked when
I went down to brew the herbal tea."  Then the Frenchwoman's dark
eyes crinkled into silent laughter.  "She's still cuddled up to
that bear, too."

     "She needs comfort," Jane said quietly, "and thank
Providence she's now opened up sufficiently to accept it where
she finds it.  A week ago, even perhaps a day ago, that bear
would have slept on the floor as it has every night since Victor
arrived."

     "Until now.  So, giving blood was more important to him than
hiding his true nature," Marie observed as she poured the tea. 
"I wasn't sure he'd grown quite that much."

     "Michael was the one who saw it first," Jane replied.  "Our
family doctor grown a great deal, as well.  Lord, but I nearly
fainted myself when Nora burst in there to tell us Victoria had
fainted."

     "Bet that was grist for your millstone on the way home,"
Marie grinned.

     "Actually, I don't think I said a word to her the entire
trip until we were back in the house.  Stunned, I guess," Jane
said, shaking her head.  "I suppose, all my confident words to
the contrary, I really did half-expect her to mark "F" on the
form, and then throw a hissy-fit to keep from giving blood."

     "But she didn't, and you rewarded her by not using her
little lapse to torment her further?"

     "Hardly be fair, would it, after what she put herself
through today?  And I am fair, you know, by my own standards and
rules, at least."

     "Of course you are!" Marie agreed.  "So what else happened?"

     "You know? I'm not really sure, but something did.  She
broke down soon after we got home, and I think they were happy
tears.  I said I was proud of her, but. . ."

     "But what, Jane?"

     "I don't know what, Marie.  I just have this niggling
feeling that there's something more to it than just me giving a
student an attagirl."

     "We'll figure it out, Jane.  So, are you going to take on
that new student you mentioned the other day?  Now that Victoria
seems on track?"

     "Maybe.  That one isn't time urgent so we don't have to rush
into it.  I want to make sure that we are right about this one,
first."

     "What's on for tomorrow?"

     "Victoria wants to do some volunteer work - to help the
families and rescue workers.  I thought I'd call Edith and see
what the good ladies of the Kingston social set are doing in that
regard."

     "Going to really test her resolve, are you?"

     "I think she's ready for a truly demanding test now, don't
you?  Besides, if she's not, it's better to find that out now and
not later when there's another needy child here who needs my full
attention."

     Marie sighed and then stood.  Picking up the tray, she blew
a kiss at her long-time friend.  "Well, I think I'll put this in
the sink and go back to bed.  You should try to rest, too."

     Jane smiled warmly. "Good night, Marie.  I'll go to bed as
soon as I finish my cup."
[bookmark]     
Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     
Chapter 13: Moments in Time; Seasons of Growth

     "Marie?" Jane Thompson called as she entered the kitchen
following breakfast.  "Did you give Victoria something that
cleans away the deep-dye cosmetics?  She looked lovely this
morning."

     The smile that answered Jane was weary.  "Nothing like that. 
Just a little magic with ordinary make-up."

     "You mean she learned that from your session with her
yesterday?"  
The petite Frenchwoman half snorted, half laughed.  "Not hardly. 
She was knocking at my door this morning before sunrise, and
begged me to teach her how to deal with too much color."

     "_Before_ sunrise?" Jane asked in disbelief.  "The student
who has been disciplined at least once a week since she first
arrived here for being discourteously late for breakfast?  Our
hibernating little bear-cub?  Up before sunrise?  On her OWN?!?!"

     "Surprised the heck out of me, too, Jane," Marie assured
her.

     "My goodness.  Well, that says something about her
intentions for the rest of her stay, wouldn't you say?  So, that
make-up job was your work?"

     Marie shook her head and settled heavily onto one of her
stools.  "What you saw at the table this morning was all her own
effort," she said and then grinned.  "It was her fourth try, but
all her own work."

     "You sat through four complete make-up jobs when you should
have been sleeping?"

     "Six, actually - I had to show her how twice."

     "You poor dear," Jane said.  She was about to tell her
friend that she'd take care of the breakfast dishes when the door
opened to admit Victoria, heavily laden with dishes, silverware
and other breakfast detritus.

     "Marie?" Victoria said with a smile.  "Look, you go relax,
okay?  I'll take care of the clearing up and seeing to the
dishes." Then she saw Jane.  "Oh, I'm sorry, Ms. Jane.  I didn't
mean to interrupt."

     "You are offering to take care of the breakfast clean-up?"
Jane asked carefully.

     "Oh, yes, Ma'am," Victoria replied cheerfully.  "Ms. Marie
helped me. . .well, helped me and I saw how tired she was this
morning.  I mean, I do it often enough so it's no big deal." 
Turning to Marie, she continued.  "Would you like me to make you
some tea or something, Marie?"

     Jane watched the exchange. *No big deal, except that you've
never offered to do it without being told before.  Of course, you
may feel that you owe Marie, but still, you didn't have to be
asked or told.  Points to you, child.*

     "Tea sounds lovely, Victoria," Jane interjected.  "Please
serve it in my study in say, an hour?  Marie and I will be in
there.  Oh, and bring three cups, please?  You will pour. 
Marie?"

     "Coming, Jane, and thank you very much, Victoria. I do need
a break."

     ~-----------~

     "Jane Thompson speaking."

     "Jane? Carolyn Beale."

     A frisson of concern ran through Jane.  She'd made the
decision to have Marie drop Victoria off at the Chalet today
instead of escorting her student personally.  It was in the way
of being a test.  Would the child behave without the 'wrath of
Jane' being nearby?  "Problems with Victoria, Caro?"

     "No, at least I don't think so, but she came in here alone
and told us that you'd said she could pick her own look.  Is that
right?"

     Jane stifled a sigh of relief.  "Yes, Caro, that is true, so
long as the look is suited to Victoria and not Victor, of
course."

     "Well, then that's okay, I guess. . ."

     "You guess?!?!"

     "Well, she did ask to have her hair changed - nothing
inappropriate," Carolyn hastened to add, "Just a bit of a
surprise.  She wants longer extensions."

     "How strange.  I was sure she'd want her natural hair color
back, but longer hair? What did she ask for, specifically."

     "Well, get this, Jane. She actually told me that if she
can't sit down on them, they're not long enough."  

     Jane nearly choked on her tea. "That's . . . unexpected."

     "It's sure unique in my experience with your kids, Jane. 
What do you want us to do with her?"

     *The longer hair won't be a problem for my plans - might
even be a plus in the future.  What is going on inside that
child's mind? Can't help wishing she had a big sister.  She
obviously has no idea how much trouble she is taking on with that
request though.*  "As long as it's age appropriate and feminine,
I think we should let her try it, Caro.  We can always cut it
later if it becomes a problem. I need to see if she's ready to
become a big sister."

     That caught Carolyn's attention.  "You have a new one lined
up?"

     "Yes, and it will be a very hard one, Caro.  This new child
has grave issues.  I need to know if Victoria is ready for that challenge."

     "Awfully sudden turnaround, isn't it?"

     "That's why I'm testing her, Carolyn."

     "How hard do you want her tested, Jane?"

     "What do you mean, Carolyn?"

     "Sandy," the other woman said quietly. "She's scheduled to
work with Victoria and well, you know how she is with your
students."

     Jane considered that and again wished she could be there,
just in case. *But no, I either believe in my own, Marie's and
Michael's assessment of this child, or I don't.  If Victoria is
ready for this new challenge, then she will have to up to dealing
with Sandy, even at her worst.* She sighed.  "Let me speak with
Sandy, Carolyn. This will be just one more test she needs to pass
before she can guide a little sister through your Feminine
Inquisition."

     "Jane!" Carolyn laughed accusingly.  "I don't even like
Monty Python! See you soon, dear.  Wait one while I get Sandy to
pick up in the office."

     ~-----------~

     "Hi there, cutie," Sandy cooed as she wrapped the protective
apron about Victoria's neck.  "So, we're going to change your
hair color today, eh?  Add a little length and fullness, too."

     "Yes, Sandy," Victoria answered warily.

     "Well, that's great. Say, riddle me this, Victoria. What's
the mating cry of the wild redhead?"

     "Huh?"

     "You know, it's like a blonde joke except about redheads.
What's the mating cry?"

     "I, um, really don't know, Sandy."

     "'NEXT'."

     The blush on her victim's face told the beautician that
Victoria understood the 'joke' only too well.  She smirked.  "You
are going to look just sooooo cute as a big-haired carrot-top,
kiddo."

     "That's not what I asked for!  I want nice long hair, but
brunette, so that I look right for my skin tones again!"

     "Sit still, sissy, or I will tie you to that chair," Sandy
hissed.  "And you're puny enough for me to do it without even
working up a sweat!"

     "You wouldn't dare," Victoria snapped angrily.

     Sandy went nose to nose with her. "Don't challenge me,
girly-boy, or you'll regret it. And I will enjoy every damned
minute of your humiliation.  Go ahead, sissy, make my day!"

     "Jane will be angry. She said I could do as I pleased
today."

     "Big deal.  She needs me more than I need her.  And that
won't help you if your hair is already orange, or maybe I'll do
it up pink. Won't that go nicely with that almond complexion of
yours, eh?  Now shut up and let me work or the next thing you
hear will be me having a very loud panic attack about the little
cross-dressing pervert sitting in my chair with a hard-on."

     That threat worked, and Victoria did as she was told.  The
extensions were handled easily enough.  "Now, we'll add color and
body," Sandy smirked as she worked foul chemicals into her
victims hair.  "The boys are going to see you coming for miles,
girl."

     "What will your clients think if you screw up my hair?"
Victoria asked, trying to find some way out of this before it was
too late.  

     "Dearie," Sandy told her condescendingly, "With the
hairstyles young people want today, you'll probably look cutting
edge.  Stupid and ugly, but cutting edge. I'll just tell them
it's what you asked for.  And you won't contradict me, or I'll
tell them a few other things that will prove you're weird enough
to want flourescent hair.  And since I can prove those 'other
things' by simply pulling up your skirt and pulling down your
panties, I think they'll believe me about you choosing the weird
hair color. Don't you?"

     "Jane will make you fix it!"

     "She can try, sweetie, but it won't happen soon - not for a
couple of weeks, at least.  These chemicals are pretty harsh. 
Any sooner than that and your hair will be damaged.  Now, get
over under that dryer so the chemicals can cure in the heat."

     The hour under the dryer while her hair was dried passed in
a fog for Jane's student.  Only the hope that Jane could do SOME-
thing to fix this sustained her.

     The dryer snapped off and Victoria looked up to see Carolyn
smiling down at her.  "Come along, Victoria.  Sandy went out for
some coffee so I'll comb you out and get you on your way.  Lovely
color, by the way.  Good choice."

     "What?!?"

     ~-----------~

     "Lord, Jane, but you should have seen the look on her face
when she saw herself in the mirror.  I'm sure she was expecting
to look like that stupid male comedian who does the phone
commercials.  Finding herself with a lovely head of shoulder-
length sable waves brought her up short.  Nearly gave herself
whiplash with that double-take."

     "Shoulder-length?  She changed her mind at the last minute? 
What happened to sitting on her hair?"

     "We didn't have any natural hair extensions that long that
were the right shade, so we went with what we had on hand.  Looks
great on her."

     "But she handled the stress, right? Without threatening
Sandy?"

     "You were the only threat she tried, Jane.  She believed
you'd come down here and make Sandy do it correctly.  Other than
that, she tried to point out that messing her up that badly might
scare off clients.  All in all, she was cowed and frightened, but
controlled.  Sandy said it was pretty clear she spent the entire
time trying to figure out what to do next."

     "Well, that's a relief.  And tell Sandy thanks for a good
job.  I needed to know if Victoria could stand up under that kind
of stress."

     "Sure thing.  You know what?  In a way, it's too bad the
extensions we had on hand weren't bun-length. How about a Lady
Godiva production at the children's theater, Jane?" Caro giggled. 
"Victoria wouldn't need a wig.  Should I look into ordering some
of the long-long extensions for her?"

     "Hell NO! Excuse me.  I mean, thank you, dear, but no thank
you.  I think shoulder length will do very nicely, thank-you-
very-much! Now, I have to run. See you next week for Victoria's
session with your afternoon makeup class."

     ~-----------~

     Victoria was just putting the finishing touches on her nail
enamel when a soft knock sounded at her door.  The softness of
the summons and the fact that the door did not immediately open
told her that the visitor was not Jane, which left only, "Miss
Marie?  Come in, please."

     The little domestic bustled into the room.  "You will help
me with the dinner tonight, oui?" she asked, looking just a bit
harried.

     "Sure," the girl replied easily.  "Is something the matter?"

     "Non.  Oui.  Oh, I don't know.  Jane changed the plan for
tonight at the last minute and I am not sure why."

     "Oh? What's up or is that something I shouldn't ask and put
you on the spot?"

     Marie shrugged.  "Nothing like that, petite," she said with
easy affection.  "Jane just told me that we would be dining
simply tonight, en famille, and that I was to be at table instead
of serving the meal."

     "Is that a problem for you?" Victoria asked. "Do you prefer
to eat alone?"

     "It is a problem, but not that way, silly.  Non, the problem
is that the meal I have planned is a multi-course affair unsuited
to being served by passing dishes about the table.  So, you will
have to help me prepare something else between now and. . ." she
checked her watch, "Six p.m. - which is when Jane says the meal
must be served."

     "Sounds like another of Ms. Jane's little tests for me," the
teen said with a saucy giggle.  She checked her nails, finding
them dry.  She walked to the large armoire and rummaged about it
until she came out with a pair of strappy, pink spiked heels. 

     "A test, cherie?"

     "It hasn't escaped my attention that I have been given . . .
a number of opportunities to fly solo of late, Miss Marie,"
Victoria sat back down on her vanity stool and slipped into the
extremely tall heels, "Opportunities that have all included
rather new challenges, if you take my meaning."

     "Challenges, you say? Such as?"

     The girl rose, unsteady for only a second and then looked at
her bedside clock.  "Oh, like being told that you have to prepare
a meal, from scratch and without a pre-approved menu, suitable
for My Lady Jane Thompson's table in forty two minutes?"

     Marie had the grace to blush which made Victoria giggle. 
"It's okay, Marie.  I won't fuss and I won't cheat.  Truth to
tell, I like cooking with you."  The girl then turned so her
profile was to the mirror.  "Don't you love what these shoes do
for my legs?" she asked seriously. "And I really like the way the
color matches my new nail lacquer and makeup.  Especially now
that the grownup stuff has finally worn mostly away."

     The Frenchwoman goggled a bit at that.  "Uhmm, cherie, you
know that even at Jane's table, dining en famille is not quite so
formal.  Those shoes, well, they are a bit much for such an
occasion and you will be on your feet non-stop while you cook. 
Surely there is something more comfortable that would suit your
lovely outfit?"

     "Oh, no, Miss Marie, I really like these, and they won't
cause me any trouble.  Besides, none of the other pairs match my
dress so nicely, and I don't have time to re-polish my nails to
match any of them.  What do you say we make pasta for dinner. 
With some of the tomatoes we canned last month?  And fresh hot
garlic bread?  Then all we'd need is a salad.  Would that be
okay?"

     ~-----------~

     "Jane Thompson speaking," Jane said into the receiver of her
telephone.  

     "Jane! How are you?  This is Edith White."  How the woman
could make one syllable words sound snooty had always mystified
Jane, but it was one of the traits that made the socially
prominent Newport matron useful to her.  That, along with her
near-sightedness and inability to see beyond what she expected to
see.

     "Edith," Jane replied warmly.  "How are you?  And how is
your charity drive going?"

     "I am very well, thank you," which came out "I am veddy
well, thenk yew," when Edith said it.  "And our little clothing
and food drive for those *poor* wretches in New York is going
swimmingly."

     *Lord above, swimmingly??!? Don't you DARE giggle, Jane
Thompson!* "That's wonderful, Edith.  I do hope Victoria has been
of some assistance.  The poor girl was just devastated by what
she saw on the television."

     "Oh, that's one of the reasons I called, dear.  She has been
MARVELOUS - an absolutely tireless tower of strength.  She has
been on the phone constantly. Why, she's gathered more
contributions than any three other volunteers.  Very dedicated my
dear, very dedicated.  Not what one expects of young people in
this day and age.  Well, except . . . "

     "Is there a problem, Edith?"

     "It's her voice, Jane.  I swear she practically coos into
that phone.  I listened carefully, and she never actually says
anything . . . improper, but the *way* she says it.  In *my* day,
girls didn't, well, make love over the phone.  There, I've said
it.  That's what she's doing.  It's scandalous."

     Jane choked back a laugh that just would *not* go away. 
After a moment, she said, "But effective, right?"

     "With the men she calls, certainly," Edith sniffed.  "I
don't expect she gets much from the women she talks to like that,
though in fact . . . well, sometimes she seems to chatter and
giggle like a much younger girl, and that seems to work quite
well, too."  Then the older woman remembered another complaint,
"And WHY you permitted that lovely child to color those pretty
blonde locks like that, I will NEVER know." 

     "Sometimes, Edith, you simply have to allow children to grow
up, make their own mistakes and suffer any consequences.  Well,
I'm glad she was so successful in accumulating donations for you,
and I'll talk to her about her phone manners." *And I will make
MY donation directly to the Red Cross so you and your nose-in-
the-air club members won't get the credit for it!* "Well, I do
have to run, dear. Thank you for the call. Ciao." and Jane hung
up with far more delicacy than she would have preferred. 
"Bitch!" she snarled and headed for her brandy decanter.

     *Thank goodness Victoria is at the Style Shoppe under Brenda
Franson's eagle eye.  It would not do for a student to see me
quite this. . . angry.*

     ~----------~

     "Jane promised me there would be no recurrence of the
disgraceful behavior you exhibited the last time you were in my
store, young man," Ms. Franson hissed the moment they were alone
in the Style Shoppe's elegant fitting room.  "THIS time I will
not save you.  THIS time I will be as appalled as everyone else
that a *boy* is parading around my store impersonating a girl. 
There are laws in this state against peeping toms and voyeurs and
I am SURE you'd find the company in central lockup not to your
taste. Do we understand each other?"

     "Yes, Ma'am," Victoria said softly, her eyes lowered.  "And
I am very sorry for the way I acted last time.  You have my word
that I will be a very good girl this time around."

     Brenda momentarily goggled at this new and unexpectedly
submissive Victoria Denato, but recovered quickly.  "Very well,
see that you do.  Now, I have laid out a variety of outfits that
meet Ms. Thompson's requirements.  You are to try them ALL on,
and then make your selection.  She said that you could pick
whatever you liked, but that you must try on everything I have
picked out.  I assume that you have on *suitable* lingerie,
Miss?"  The heavy emphasis on the word 'suitable' would have been
obvious to even a casual observer, but only Brenda and Victoria
understood the older woman's real meaning.  She was asking about
the dancer's gaff Jane had taken to including in her protegee's
ensemble for outings like this.

     "Yes, Ms. Franson," the boy-girl replied, "The same as last
time."

     "Excellent," the shopkeeper said with evident delight.  "Ah,
and here is Sally to help you with your dressing.  Sally, this is
Ms. Thompson's latest student, Victoria."  The two girls
exchanged greetings under Brenda's watchful eyes.  "All right,
dear, why don't you go undress down to your undies while Sally
collects the dresses and accessories for you.  Sally?  I will be
in the shop.  Call me for each presentation, please?  I promised
Ms. Thompson a full report."

     "Be right back, Victoria," the shop girl, a pretty
strawberry blonde with a figure that showed off The Style
Shoppe's wares very nicely indeed, told her.  "You just go on in
there and get ready, okay?"

     Sally's back was turned so she missed what Brenda, looking
back into the room from the arched doorway, saw - a look of
anxiety bordering on fear on Victoria's perfectly made-up face. 
With a self-satisfied smile at her decision to include her cute
salesgirl in this game, Brenda headed for her phone.  Jane wanted
regular reports on this outing.

     ~-----------~

     "Wow, between you and me?  Those other dresses Ms. Franson
picked out made you look like a girl's dress-up doll, but that
outfit really looks great on you," Sally bubbled as she studied
Victoria with professional interest. The off-the-shoulder, knee-
length evening dress was in a spectacular color of red that did
marvelous things for Victoria's dark looks. "A bit bolder color
for your lip-gloss and a touch brighter rouge and you'll be
devastating. And I wish my legs looked half so good as yours do
in the split hem.  I can see now why you don't wear pantihose,
girl.  If you've got it, flaunt it."

     "Actually, her teacher doesn't approve of such things,"
Brenda Franson said as she entered.  "The total feminine
experience is what she preaches and what she insists upon for her
students, and they wouldn't have it any other way once they've
gotten a taste for it. Isn't that right, Victoria?"

     "Yes, Ms. Franson," Victoria said, looking at her reflection
in the mirror over shoulder. "I do like the way the hosiery looks
with this dress and I don't think high-fashion stockings come in
a pantihose, do they?"

     "No indeed.  I must say that I agree with Sally's assessment
of that dress, dear.  Wear that to a cotillion and you won't be
allowed to sit out a single dance. The boys simply wouldn't stand
for it," Brenda assured her 'client' and saw an embarrassed flush
color the girl's face.  "Sally, go fetch that wrapper off the
manikin in the front window, would you?  I'd like to see how that
looks with this dress."

     "Be right back, Brenda," the girl smiled and hurried off on
her task.

     "Beautiful girl, isn't she?" Brenda asked off-handedly.

     "Very," Victoria agreed, far more at-ease than the older
woman had expected.  "Love her suit, but the color is all wrong
for me.  You wouldn't have one in a shade more suited to a
brunette than to a strawberry blonde, would you, Ms. Franson?"
she asked wistfully.

     "Uh. . n. .no, I'm sorry, we don't."

     "Too bad." 

     ~----------~

     "So, there were no problems today?"

     "No, Jane," Brenda replied over the phone, "And I was rough
with her, just as you asked.  I even sprung my prettiest sales
girl on her as a 'helper' including in the dressing room.  Sally
has no idea that it was a boy in there with her.  However it came
about, the change in Victoria's poise and deportment is amazing. 
Heavens, I almost forgot what I was dealing with in there.  I
mean, it was like she. . . I mean he was really a girl."

     "So, no qualms about how she handled herself?  No concerns
about how things would be if Victoria were the big sister
shepherding another student about?"

     "None that I can see. Although I was surprised to see such a
strange combination of clothing picked out."

     "Oh, why is that?"

     "One of the dresses was really stylish and flattering -
downright sexy if you want to know the truth of it.  I actually
included it so that I could jerk her chain a bit, but I never
expected her to select it. A real eye-catcher, and if Victoria
didn't realize that fact, my sales girl Sally told her."

     "Goodness, I've never had a boy do that before.  You're sure
she didn't think she HAD to buy something like that?"

     "Don't think so, and even if she did think that, she could
have chosen one of the more 'middle of the road' gowns' I set out
for her, but she left all of those behind."

     "I see.  Wait, you said that it was the combination that was
strange?"

     "Well, yes.  The other things she picked would have given
YOU pause, even on a student's first trip to my shop.  Lord,
Jane, but the other dresses she picked were spun sugar too sweet
to wear outside a Disney movie. Sally called them 'dress-up doll
things'. What's going on with her?"

     "I'm really not sure, Brenda. I told her to get what
appealed to her."

     "Well, I have to agree with Sally that the girl went a
little overboard with the very formal frou-frou.  Lots of white,
lots of pastel colors - no primaries.  Except for that red
number, the rest of it makes her look young, no, that's not it.
Prissy is more like it.  I sort of figured that she was buying
things she thought would please or at least not displease you."

     Jane sighed.  "I guess I should have expected her to be
cautious.  Anything else, Brenda?"

     "No, Jane, except that you'll get the bill in a couple of
days.  Three "perfect-priss" dresses, the sexy red evening dress,
all with shoes being dyed to match and some few carefully
selected accessories for each outfit."

     "I can hardly wait.  Thanks again, Brenda."

     ~----------~

     Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     Chapter 14: Season of Promotion

     Before she had taken more than three steps, the phone rang
again. For just a moment, Jane considered not answering it. *I
DON'T want to talk to anyone else!  I need to think this whole
Victoria situation over and somehow make some sense of all this!*
Unfortunately, the phone was not at all afraid of Jane Thompson
and continued to ring.  Sighing, Jane returned to her desk and
reached for the phone. *Think nice thoughts, Jane Thompson.
Besides, it might be Marie with news of Victoria.  Or a
multimillion dollar investment opportunity.* "Jane Thompson
speaking."

     "Oh, hi, Ruth.  What's on your mind? . . . .No, I haven't
made any firm plans for that one yet.  My understanding was that
he was stable and still in detox for a while longer so I had some
time to reinforce Victoria's recent progress."

     Jane listened for a few more moments and felt the blood
leave her face.  "Oh. . . my. . . god.  He didn't.  Is he all
right?. . . .yes, yes, of course.  You want to send him to me
NOW?  After THAT?  But, Ruth, I already have a student, and she's
at a very delicate stage right now. . . Oh, I see.  This is very
different, Ruth, from anything I've ever taken on before, and I'm
not alone in this.  Victoria isn't ready to go home, and while I
was thinking she was just about ready to be a big sister, this
situation is so far beyond anything I thought she'd have to deal
with in that role.  I'll have to think about this.  What?  All
right.  I'll give you my decision by tonight. Thanks, Ruth.  Give
my love to Kenneth, too.  Bye."

     This time, Jane reached her decanter, but at the last
moment, didn't pour. *I need to think very hard and very clearly
about this,* she mused, and then went to the kitchen to brew a
pot of tea. *I hope Marie has some cookies in the cookie jar.  I
feel a sugar attack coming on.*

     ~-----------~

     "You wanted to see me, Ms. Jane?" Victoria asked from the
front parlor's door.

     Jane looked up from the dossier she'd been rereading for
what felt like the hundredth time in the past two hours, a grim
expression on her face.  "Yes, Victoria.  Please come in and sit
down.  Would you like some tea and cookies? Marie tells me you
made the shortbread this morning and they are excellent."

     The girl glowed with pleasure at the off hand compliment and
taking her seat, accepted the offered treat.  "Thank you, Ms.
Jane."

     The older woman took a moment to regard her student. 
Victoria was dressed in a mint-green, knee-length linen frock
that went well with her new hair color. Opaque hose, matching
pumps and simple yet elegant jewelry completed the picture. *My,
but she's got the essentials down now,* Jane thought, *She even
has her hands on her lap and her ankles demurely crossed - she
could be posing for a Town and Country layout - 'Debutante at the
Brink'. Well, I guess that answers the question of whether she
can handle the mechanics well enough.* "We have to talk,
Victoria," Jane began.  "I have some decisions before me -
decisions that will directly affect you."

     "Yes, Ms. Jane?"

     "You've come a very long way in a very short time,
Victoria," Jane told her quietly.  "I wish I could wait a while
longer before raising this issue, but circumstances force my
hand."

     "Are you going to send me away?" the girl asked, a slight
quaver in her voice.

     "No, nothing of the kind, dear," she was hastily reassured.
"The key decision I have to make is whether you are ready and
just as importantly, willing to take on the task I may have to
lay before you."

     That surprised Victoria.  Up until now, her willingness had
not been a consideration. Jane ordered, Victoria did as ordered. 
That was the way of the world at Seasons House.  "I did give you
my word to do as you ask to the best of my ability, Ms. Jane,"
the primly dressed teen said with quiet dignity.  "I know I
didn't always keep to the letter of that promise before, but I've
been trying very hard ever since."

     "I know that, Victoria, and I am very pleased with you of
late.  Under ordinary circumstances, you would be ready for the
next stage of your training with me, but what I have been asked
to do is anything but ordinary.  You know that you are not the
first boy upon whom I have . . . imposed this particular form of
discipline, correct?"

     Victoria blushed at that reminder of her true gender and
looked away for a moment. *So, she still reacts to that.  File
that for future need.* The boy-girl returned her gaze to meet her
teacher's and nodded.  "You told me as much when you . . . when I
agreed to . . . well, when I became Victoria."

     "It's all right to say that I maneuvered you into being
Victoria, child, because that is precisely what I did," Jane
admitted with a candor that surprised her listener.  "What you
have to understand now that this discipline, this petticoat
discipline as the Victorians called it, is what I have done with
all of my students."

     "ALL? As in, every student you've ever taught?"

     "Well, since coming to Seasons House.  With a great deal of
success, I might add."

     "You said that, too.  Is this next phase of my training part
of this?"

     "Ever hear the phrase 'Each one, teach one'?" Jane asked. 
At her pupil's negative head shake, she elaborated.  "You are
relatively unique because you have been here as an 'only-
student'.  Normally, my program is based on having two students
in residence here - a junior student undergoing initial training
and indoctrination in the feminine arts while at the same time
learning new coping mechanisms for whatever problems brought him
to me.  The fear of giving themselves away as boys dressed in
girl's clothing forces my students to think before they react in
some inappropriate or destructive manner."

     "I'll say," Victoria could not help but mutter.

     "Just so," Jane responded, a trace of a grin momentarily
softening her stern school-mistress persona. "The other student
is one who has been here for awhile, and who has assimilated
those lessons in dress and deportment and who has developed those
new coping mechanisms and behaviors."

     "Dress and deportment?" Victoria asked suddenly.

     "Ah, you caught that.  Yes, the 'big sister' or senior
student is also kept in skirts and continues to act the part of a
girl.  In fact, the 'little sister' or junior student must think
the mentoring student really IS a girl.  In many cases, the
presence of another apparently feminine student in residence acts
as a brake on the little sister's unacceptable behaviors while
permitting the big sister to act as mentor and teacher in the
feminine mysteries.  For you, Marie tried to fulfill that
function, although not as successfully as we might have hoped."
"I see," Victoria replied.  "So, am I to become a big sister?"

     There was something wistful in the girl's tone, almost as if
she wanted the opportunity, Jane thought. *Probably wishful
thinking.*

     "That's what we must decide.  Recall your own early
experiences here, Victoria. I was very hard on you.  Everything I
did with you will happen to the new student.  You will have to be
willing to let me do those things without trying to help him get
around me.  You will have to help me set him up so that I can
force him into the petticoats and frillies.  And you'll have to
inform on him, telling me what he thinks and what he says, even
if that seems like tattling.  What I do is take the student to
the edge, psychologically-speaking, and I need to have absolute
assurance that I know what is happening inside that child's
head."

     Victoria thought that over for a few moments without saying
anything.  She thought about how she felt about herself once
she'd seen Victor for what he was, and how she felt after she'd
helped Edith with the fund-raiser and clothing drive.  How she'd
felt after giving blood. *Worked for me, didn't it?  Now, it's
payback time.* "I will do those things, Ms. Jane." she assured
the older woman.

     "Before you agree, there's more," Jane warned.

     "More?"

     "The student I have been asked to take on has. . . well,
special needs.  He has a severe drug dependency and is currently
in a detoxification program."

     "So he won't be coming soon?"

     "That's what I thought, but that has changed.  The boy
attempted suicide last night."

     "SUICIDE?!?  Why?!?"

     Jane closed her eyes and tried to center herself.  "He
blames himself for the suicide of a classmate.  He was part of a
clique that teased this insecure girl, rather unmercifully from
what I can gather.  She took pills and died.  Benjamin, that is
his name, holds himself completely responsible.  He started
drinking to deal with that pain, then graduated to drugs.  His
parents put him into the center for treatment. Apparently, he
couldn't handle the pain once the drug-induced haze wore off and
tried to kill himself.  So, if he comes here, your duties will
include being part of a suicide-prevention watch."

     "But what if I fail?" Victoria whispered.  "What if he. . "

     "That's what you have to tell me you can cope with.  I have
no intention of letting that child hurt himself further, but I am
not all-powerful.  He might slip our collective leash long enough
to injure himself, or worse."

     "That's. . . that's a pretty heavy load, Ms. Jane."

     "I know, but the psychologist thinks my kind of shock
treatment might help where the other things they've tried
haven't."

     "And if I don't think I can handle that?" Victoria asked.

     
"Then I will tell them I cannot take him on.  You are my first
priority, Victoria.  Our bargain takes precedence."

     "How long do I have to think about this?"

     "Not very long, I'm afraid.  I have to tell them my decision
tonight, or they will have to make other arrangements.  If you
agree, he will be here before the end of the week.  If not. . " 
Jane let that hang in the air.

     "And even if he doesn't come here, he still might . . might
hurt himself."

     "Yes."

     "This scares the hell. . I mean, this really frightens me,
Ms. Jane," the young teen told her teacher.  "You're sure this is
the best thing to do?"

     "The doctors think so, Victoria.  I wish I knew, but I don't
know the answer to your question."

     "All right.  I promise to do my best, but you'll have to
tell me what to do.  I don't know anything about stuff. . I mean,
issues like this."

     Jane nodded, and then reached across the tea table to take
Victoria's hand in hers.  "I don't either, truth to tell, so
we'll just be very, very careful.  All right?"

     Nodding, the girl made to rise, but Jane held on to her
hand, staying her.  "I'm very proud of you, Victoria," Jane said
softly.  "It takes real courage to face the dark unknown.  I'm
very glad that you've found yours."

     "Thank you, Ms. Jane," the girl-boy whispered, obviously on
the verge of tears.

     "Oh, and now that you are being promoted, you should start
calling me 'Aunt Jane'," she ordered with a small smile.  "It
will strengthen your position with Benjamin if he thinks you're
my niece, and besides, I like being called 'Aunt Jane'."

     "Oh hel. . heavens," the teen blurted before pulling her
hand free and fleeing the room.

     Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     Chapter 15: Advancement Exercises

     The powerful automobile took the New England traffic circle
without losing speed or with nary a shimmy.  Jane wondered if
there was anything psychologically significant about her decision
to drive her new Audi A8 Quattro instead of her beloved Lincoln
Town Car for this pick up.  The power and handling of the German
import certainly satisfied something deep inside the control
freak she only admitted to herself. *And I will need all that and
more with this one,* she thought ruefully.

     "So this is out of the normal way of things for your
program?" Victoria asked, interrupting Jane's uncomfortable bout
of self-analysis.  "All your other students come by train, like I
did?"

     "Yes.  The long trip in a crowded train coach tends to make
the student tired and irritable, both of which usually suit my
purposes.  Unfortunately, we couldn't allow this student even
that much freedom.  He had to be escorted and his parents could
not afford the time to take the train all the way from his home
in the Midwest.  So, we're picking him up at the airport in
Providence.  Probably makes no difference since I cannot really
go strongly on the offensive with him until I've got a handle on
where his head is at psychologically."

     "So why am I here?"

     "You've never seen one of my big sisters work, but
basically, you are to be the role model of exemplary good manners
and breeding today which I will then use to find him
significantly lacking in those graces."

     Jane glanced at her ward's outfit and stifled a grin.  If
her hair had still been blonde, Victoria could have been costumed
to play a slightly older Pollyanna in a remake of that Disney
classic movie staring Halley Mills. *Only slightly older is
right.  And I thought Darla had the 'prim and proper Victorian
miss' act down to a 'T'.* From her head to her toes, Victoria was
rigged out in stark white.  White dress, white hat, and white
gloves with an abundance of lace, topping legs sheathed in white
hose and last but not least, white, two-inch high-heeled pumps.
She'd dressed her sable hair into an old fashioned pageboy, the
dark tresses setting off her powder-pale face like a mahogany
picture frame. *Heavens above, put a lace veil on that glorious
mane and she'd look like a good little Italian girl dressed for
her First Communion.*

     "So I just stand around looking perfect, eh?"

     Jane couldn't quite stifle the snort of laughter.  "As close
as you can manage, Victoria."

     They had just merged with traffic on Interstate 95 when Jane
uttered a mild epithet.  "What?" Victoria asked, surprised by
both the word and the emotion behind it.

     "I forgot my gloves," Jane fumed.

     "It's not that cold, Aunt Jane.  And you'll be inside at the
airport for the pickup anyway."

     "Feminine armor, Victoria.  A woman becomes more powerful
when she is in tall heels and sleek black gloves.  Something
about a woman's hand swathed in skin-tight black leather sets off
warning bells in the male psyche."

     "I'll remember that for future reference," the younger woman
said very seriously, "But that does not solve your problem."

     Jane was already moving into the deceleration lane.  "Well,
we'll just have to make a quick stop at the mall so I can buy a
pair.  It will just take a minute and we have plenty of time."

     "Mall?" Victoria asked, suddenly wary.  "_That_ mall?"

     "Hmmm?" Jane asked, distracted by the traffic pattern
surrounding the mall.  "Oh, that's right," she said, grinning. 
"You've been here before, haven't you?"

     The look on the girl's face was all the answer Jane needed.  

     "Well, if you don't feel up to facing that place again, I
won't force the issue.  You can wait in the car if you'd prefer."

     Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw her student's back
straighten and her chin jut out. *Gotcha, girl,* she thought with
a hidden smile.

     "A little stretch of the legs sounds very nice right now,
Aunt Jane," the girl said almost casually.

     Quietly approving, Jane allowed Victoria to lead the way
into the mall. *Wonderful! At last she is facing up to the things
she fears instead of hiding or worse, attacking the innocent. 
That is real progress.*

     They went to a small, very pricy, leather-wear boutique off
the main corridor.  "I'll just be a minute, Victoria."

     Victoria treated herself to a little window shopping,
checking out the adjacent stores's displays while waiting for
Jane.  She was just about to turn back toward the leather goods
store when she heard, "Listen, sissy-boy, give me your money or
we're going to mess up those pretty looks of yours and take it
anyway!"

     A cold frisson of fear ran up her spine.  Had she been
caught out?  Victoria spun on her heel only to see a group of
young toughs cornering a much smaller boy in one of the mall's
very narrow service corridors.  Then she recognized the ring
leader - it was the same boy who had cornered Victor only a few
short days ago.

     Fright warred with anger as she watched the scene unfolding
before her.  The leader struck out at the boy, knocking him to
the floor with an open-hand slap, then signaled two of his
accomplices to pull their victim back to his feet.  With arrogant
indifference, the lead punk backhanded the boy viciously.  Only
the support of the two gang members kept him from collapsing back
to the floor.  "Give me money, bitch," the leader hissed.

     Victoria saw red.  Not even realizing what she was doing,
she pushed her way through the circle of milling males and
planted herself between the now-bleeding boy and his tormentor.  

     Her tormentor.

     "Leave him alone, you big bully!" she snarled.

     "Get out of here, bitch, before I hurt you, too."

     Too outraged to realize her own danger, Victoria took a step
toward the leader instead of retreating, but she didn't say
anything - couldn't say anything.  

     The leader now had to go through the girl to get to his
prey.  For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why she didn't
seem to be afraid of him.  She was only a girl - a prissy, fussy
LITTLE girl.  Hadn't she just seen him hurt that little pansy?
Hadn't she just seen his power? "Last chance, bitch," he growled
and tried to step around her only to have her cut him off again.

     "Okay, you asked for it," he hissed, cocking his arm for
another backhand, this one aimed at Victoria.

     "DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!" a commanding voice cut through
the tension of the moment.  "Strike my niece and I will have you
in jail so quickly it will make your head swim!"

     Victoria turned to see Aunt Jane striding toward them, eyes
flashing, lips set and pulling an incredible pair of gloves onto
her hands like a knight donning gauntlets. 

     "YOU!" the leader snarled.  "You're that damned truant
officer. Well, we aren't cutting school right now, so you can go
straight to hell, woman!"

     "You two," Jane ordered pointing to the pair holding the
injured boy.  "Let him go, NOW!"

     They did.

     "Now, the rest of you have about twenty seconds to disappear
before the security officers I have summoned arrive.  If you wish
to continue this. . .exchange, I am certain that they will be
more than happy to escort you downtown to the police."

     Just then, one of the boys shouted, "Oh shit, it's the
cops!" and they all took off.

     Victoria smiled her thanks to Jane and then turned to the
boy.  "Are you all right?"

     "We'll take care of him, Miss," one of the grey-garbed
security guards told her as he strode up.  "Davis? Escort the boy
to the clinic across the road and see that he gets home from
there.  Ma'am?" he continued turning to Jane.  "Thanks for the
call.  Those punks have been getting away with murder lately
because our surveillance gear has been down."

     "So they'll get away with this?" Victoria insist on drawing
herself to her full height.  Jane saw there was fury sparkling in
the girl's dark eyes.

     "No, Miss, not this time.  I said it 'has been down'.  It's
been up and running since noon.  Everything, including ID-quality
pictures of them, is on tape."

     "Then why didn't you get here sooner?" she asked, still
furious.

     "Wrong time in the scan cycle.  The guards on the monitors
get a rolling scan of all our cameras.  This lady's call got our
attention sooner."

     "I have an appointment to pick someone up at the airport,
officer," Jane interposed.  "Do you require anything further from
me?  A statement?"

     One of the security officers turned to look at Victoria. 
"Miss, did he strike you? Harm you in any way?"

     She shook her head.  "No, sir. He was ready to, when Aunt
Jane arrived, but he never touched me."  

     He studied her for a long moment, as if trying to decide
whether there was more.  Jane was pleased at how well Victoria
stood up under his scrutiny.  "Okay," he finally said, and then
turned back to Jane.  "And Ms., uh, Thompson, did you do anything
other than call us?  And talk to them of course, before we got
here?"

     "No. Your men arrived in the proverbial nick of time."

     "Very well, then.  With the surveillance tapes and the
testimony of the boy who was struck, I don't think we'll need
formal statements from you.  I have your name and address, Ms.
Thompson, and I can get back in touch with you if need be.  Thank
you for acting responsibly."  The cop then turned a very stern
eye on Victoria. "Except, young lady, if you feel the need to
stand up to a bunch of hoodlums again, please let us be there to
back you up *before* you read them the riot act, okay?  I mean,
it certainly took a lot of ba . . bravery to stand up to those
punks, but you could have gotten badly hurt doing something like
that."

     "Yes, sir," she said, eyes down and cheeks blushing.

     "Thank you again for arriving so promptly, officer, but we
must hurry off," Jane said with a gracious smile. "Victoria? 
Come along.  We'll be late."

     Once outside, Jane rounded on her student.  "WHAT WERE YOU
THINKING IN THERE?!?!"

     Victoria sighed and shamefacedly stared at the toes of her
shoes.  "I wasn't thinking," she finally admitted. "When they
kept hurting him, I just reacted - did the only thing I could."

     "By shielding him with your own body? I don't know if that's
bravery, bravado or stupidity!"

     "Stupidity, probably, Aunt Jane," the girl said solemnly. 
"I just couldn't think of anything else to do.  It never would
have occurred to me to call security."

     Jane considered that for a moment.  "So you just counted on
what?"

     "I figured if he hit a girl, particularly a small girl, he'd
lose face with his gang and that he knew that."

     Finally, Jane nodded.  It was not the solution she would
have preferred, but it did show that her student had come even
further than she had thought from the bully who had first entered
her tuition those long months ago.  "Next time, you'll think of
calling security first.  Now come along.  We must hurry or we
really WILL be late."

     Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     Chapter 16: A Time to Sow

     "Aunt Jane?" Victoria said, just a little breathlessly.  "I
think we should check our faces if we have the time. If I look
like I feel, my mascara probably looks like a Louisiana bayou
chart.  I don't think I have that 'ladies glow, they don't sweat'
thing down pat just yet."
 
"We did walk rather briskly getting up here from the parking lot,
didn't we?" Jane responded.  "Well, your make up is fine, but
perhaps a stroke or two of the hairbrush wouldn't go amiss for
either of us.  Ah, the lady's lounge is right over there."

     It was only after they were side by side in the restroom,
fixing their hair and repairing non-existent cosmetic faults that
recognition hit Jane.  Victoria hadn't so much as flinched at
walking into the lady's room.  Nor had she gawked at anything or
anyone while they were in there.  The girl had simply gone about
her business as if strolling into a women's public restroom were
something she did every day. 

     *Good Heavens! Is she THAT comfortable with the feminine
role? Even Michael and Darryl balked at entering the lady's
convenience those first few times in public, and Victoria just
nonchalantly takes it in her stride.  Oh, my.*

     Jane was still mulling that over in her mind when they
reached the now-secured waiting area where they would meet her
new student.  She was glad that the FAA had resumed limited
flights in and out of T. F. Green Airport.  The new boy's parents
had wanted, since they had been forced to accompany him on the
trip because of the suicide risk, to take him to Logan
International in Boston, or perhaps Bradley International in
Hartford, but Jane had vetoed both.  She wanted this boy safely
under surveillance at Seasons House as quickly as that could be
arranged and a two-plus hour drive combined with the larger
crowds of the bigger airports just increased the already too
great a risk this boy posed to himself.

     *Besides,* Jane admitted privately, *I'm still just a little
annoyed that they couldn't find the time to escort their son by
train.  What is the priority here?*

     A gentle tug on her sleeve broke through Jane's reveries. 
Turning in the direction Victoria indicated, she saw a group of
people enter the waiting area from the direction of the
concourse.  She began to wonder if her student has missed the
flight when three people arrived - a tall, ungainly boy, his arm
firmly gripped by a rather grim-looking woman, her face lined
with fatigue.  They were followed by a tall, wan-looking man, his
eyes fixed on the younger man in front of him. *Clearly, the trip
has been difficult for them,* Jane realized. *Perhaps the train
wasn't such a good idea after all, if they are that drained from
their time getting here by plane.*

     She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. *God,
don't let this be a mistake.  Help me to help this poor child
find worth in himself again.* "Ready, Victoria?"  The girl nodded
solemnly.  "Remember to speak only when I invite you to speak. 
Other than that, just keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth
shut."

     Jane marched up to the trio, her carriage regal, her head
held high.  "Mr. and Mrs. McQueen?" she asked.  At their weary
nods, she inclined her head in greeting.  "I am Jane Thompson. 
Welcome to Providence."  She then turned 'the eye' on the tall
slender young person, still firmly in the grip of his Mother. *It
will be a challenge to get this one to pass,* Jane thought with
some resignation. *Even without heels, the she he'll be will draw
a good deal of attention.  Six foot tall women do tend to stand
out in a crowd.* "And you are Benjamin?  Benjamin McQueen?"

     Eyes dulled with an emotion that tugged at Jane's hidden
soft heart momentarily looked up and then returned to the floor. 
"Yes, ma'am," was the almost inaudible reply.

     "Benjamin, I am Ms. Jane Thompson. You may call me 'Ms.
Thompson' or if you prefer, 'Ms. Jane'.  You will be staying at
my house, and attending my school."

     Not waiting for a reply, Jane turned to the young girl at
her side.  "Victoria, this is Mr. and Mrs. McQueen and their son,
Mr. Benjamin McQueen.  Benjamin, this is Victoria Denato, my
niece."

     Victoria bobbed a smiling little curtsy to the two adults
"Hello, Mr. McQueen, Mrs. McQueen.  It is indeed my pleasure to
make your acquaintance," before turning to smile shyly at the new
student.  "Hello, Benjamin."

     "Um, Benny will do, if that's okay with you," Benny
interjected softly.

     *Now what brought that on?* Jane wondered. *How many of my
boys willingly called themselves ANYTHING that ended in a 'y'
when they arrived here? Well, it was the first thing he's asked
for and it won't hurt to give in here.  Might simplify getting
him to the house. "Very well, as you wish."  Jane turned to the
two adults. "And what are your plans?  I would like to get Benja.
. I mean, Benny settled in."

     Mr. McQueen shrugged and Jane thought she saw him reel
momentarily.  "Not much we can do, right now, Ms. Thompson. 
There's no chance of even trying to get home before tomorrow
afternoon.  The national flight schedule is still a mess after
the Trade Center disaster - planes in the wrong cities, extra
stringent security.  And we, ah, left the moment we could get
reservations and unfortunately, they were one-way. About the only
thing we have going for us is that we didn't have time to pack,
other than what we brought for our son."

     "I see," Jane murmured.

     The elder McQueen tried to smile and didn't quite succeed.
"I just hope we can find a room until we can get a flight back
home. All of the nearby motels were listed as being full-up when
I tried to make reservations from home.  It'll be a long night
here at the airport if we can't find a place."

     *They're exhausted on every level, and yet, I can't afford
to have them at Seasons House.  Knowing what I plan for their son
and seeing it happen are two very different things.  The next two
days. . .heavens, the next few hours will be especially critical
for this one. I can't take the chance that Mom or Dad might
interfere! I know.* 

     Reaching into her purse, Jane withdrew a credit card which
she handed to Victoria.  "Go to the Courtesy Counter and make
arrangements for Mr. and Mrs. McQueen to stay at the Roger
Williams Hotel.  If they give you any trouble, ask for the
managing director and use my name - he owes me several favors.
Use that card to pay for the rooms.  The hotel is in downtown
Providence so have them send the courtesy limousine here to meet
the McQueens.  Inform the concierge that I want them provided
with a change of clothing, also at my expense, please."

     "That's not necessary," Mr. McQueen protested, only to stop
short when he saw the near longing look on his wife's face. 
"We'll be even more in your debt, Ms. Thompson.  Thank you."

     "You're more than welcome," she told him before turning back
to her student.  "After you've set up the hotel accommodations,
go find a Redcap and have him collect Benny's suitcases at the
baggage stand.  Escort him and the luggage to my car.  Use this,"
and Jane handed over a small wad of bills, "for the tip. We will
be in the coffee shop when you're done."

     "Yes, Aunt Jane."

     "Now, you three look like you could do with a sandwich and
something to drink.  I feel just a tad peckish myself, so if you
would care to join me for a bit of lunch?

     Only after they were half way back to Seasons House, Benny
riding in the front seat beside Jane and Victoria watching him
like a hawk from the back seat, did Jane realize what she had
done.  She had put her American Express Gold Card in Victoria's
hands, which was the same as giving the girl a free ticket
anywhere in the world, and nothing had happened. *Nothing except
what you ordered her to see done,* she amended thoughtfully.

     Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     Chapter 17: Welcome to Seasons House

     Benny McQueen prowled the strangely decorated room, dressed
only in his day-old skivvy-shorts.  He'd intended to make this
inspection following dinner the previous night, but he'd crashed
instead. His body still hadn't recovered fully from the trauma
caused by the drugs and his subsequent detox at the rehab center. 
As a result, he tired easily and very suddenly - one minute he'd
be awake and at least fairly alert, the next he'd be out cold. If
not for the damned dreams, that wouldn't be such a bad thing, but
sleep brought him entirely too close to Janey.

     That was why he was awake now, before the late fall sun was
even a false glow in the eastern skies.  Janey wouldn't let him
stay asleep a moment longer.  That was one of her more successful
reprisals.  Feeling guilty was bad enough; feeling guilty and
dog-ass tired was pure hell. 

     *Sure is a strange room,* he thought trying to ignore both
the guilt and the fatigue.  The room's peculiarity owed to more
than just the pink satin and white lace he saw throughout. 
First, it was odd for what wasn't there.  There were none of the
usual oddments of civilized life - no bottles, no combs, no
books, no nicknacks - nothing of what he'd expect to find in a
room that was obviously intended to house one of that woman's
girl students.  On careful inspection, there didn't seem to be
anything light enough that he could raise it above his head,
either.  Second, it was odd for what was there - such as wire-
mesh reinforced window glass and heavy vinyl cushions lining the
rim of the bathtub.  Finally, except for the large, wooden
storage closet, *Is that what they call an armoire?*, every
single door, window or drawer was locked against him.  That
included the door that opened onto the main corridor.  

     The freaking room was a very plush, very luxurious
combination of jail cell and rubber room.

     *Well, they got that right, anyway.  I ought to be in either
one of those if not both,* he thought with a sigh of resignation.
*Whoever set this place up knew what they were doing, though. 
Offhand, I can't see a single thing I could use as a weapon,
unless I count that big pillow on the bed, which I don't. I don't
think death by self-smothering has much potential.  Even if I
could hold that thing to my face hard enough to cut off my air,
I'd just pass out before I could finish the job. Wonder if this
place does a lot of business with suicidal maniacs?  Not how I'd
want to earn my living, that's for sure.*

     Giving up on the search for a suitable weapon of self-
destruction, Benny turned toward the armoire. *Don't know what is
planned for today, but I'd prefer to face whatever that is
dressed in something other than my shorts.*

     A quick check of the large antique's interior surprised him.
*Where are my clothes?  Did they mess up and put me in the wrong
room? Or maybe, this is their only jail cell/rubber room, and
they didn't have time to move this stuff out of here before
moving me in. But where are my things?" he asked himself again as
he idly ran a hand up and down the skirt of a brightly colored,
silky robe that hung on the inside of one heavy door.

     The sound of a key turning in the main door lock preceded
the unannounced entry of the woman into his room.  For only a
moment, anger at this invasion of his personal space cut through
his malaise and he locked eyes with her, but it was only for a
moment.  Then he broke eye contact, and stared at the floor
between them.

     "We need to talk about what is to become of you, young
Benjamin," the woman said firmly.  

     "Benny," he replied.  "I asked you to call me Benny."

     Since his head was still bowed, he didn't see the lines that
momentarily furrowed the smooth forehead, but rather only heard,
"So you did, *Benny*.  My apologies, but I would have thought a
young man of your inches and maturity would have preferred a
more. . . adult form of address.  In any case, please come with
me so that we can decide what is to become of you."

     *Like I get any choice,* he thought. *Not that I deserve
any.* "My clothes," he replied instead.  "They were evidently
sent to the wrong room.  All I have to wear are these shorts."

     "Were they?" she asked.  "Ah, so they were.  Well, that robe
will do for the moment until we can make appropriate arrangements
for you."

     "That's a girl's robe," he observed, but without any emotion
Jane could detect.

     "Obviously," the tall, auburn-haired woman replied drily. 
"However, it will serve to cover you for the nonce.  Now, please
put it on and follow me to my office.  We have much to discuss
and many decisions to make before breakfast."

     Benny thought about that for a few moments, then shrugged
into the silky confection and trudged toward the door.

     ~--------------~

     Benny McQueen stood before Jane's desk like so many before
him. *I won't be able to buy anything off the rack for this one,*
she thought, making a mental note. *I knew he was tall, and had
Marie stock the armoire accordingly, but even so, that robe is
about five inches too short on him. Obtaining custom-made
clothing will surely delay our first public outings.  Looks like
it is short skirts and loose sweaters for the rapid change
exercises.  Well, I'm not sure just how hard I dare push this one
just now in any case.  Perhaps taking things a little slower is
the better strategy in any case. And I am very much afraid that
Benny will not make a particularly attractive girl, although with
the right clothes and makeup, he could be, I don't know,
striking?  How about quietly dignified, Jane? We'll just have to
see what Marie, Caro and Sandy can make of him.* 

     "Please stand straight, Benny," Jane quietly ordered. 
"Hunching over like that is unattractive and bad for your spinal
column.  Good posture is essential for good health and good
deportment."

     For a moment, Jane wondered if the boy would balk. Thus far,
he'd taken everything she'd thrown at him without comment and
without changing that awful look in his eyes.  Then, he slowly
unfolded his body and drew himself erect, but still he kept his
eyes lowered.  "Why are you here, Benny?" she asked firmly.

     Clearly, he had not expected that question and it surprised
him. When he didn't immediately respond, Jane asked again, more
insistently.  "I guess, well, because of the drugs, and the. .
the . . ." his voice failed.

     "The attempted suicide?" Jane asked, striving to keep any
tone or inflection from her voice. He nodded.  "I see.  The
rehabilitation clinic reports that your body is clean of the
drugs - was clean, in fact, at the point when you attempted to
kill yourself.  What should I infer from that?"

     "Huh?  I. . . I don't know what you mean."

     "Oh, I believe you do.  As soon as you no longer had the
drugs to numb you, you attempted to kill yourself.  Now, why did
your parents send you to me?"

     The satin-swathed shoulders shrugged again.  "I guess they
think you can help me."

     "And if I interpret your body language correctly, you
obviously don't agree."

     "The only way you can help me is to let me die."

     "Very melodramatic, young man, and not very convincing.  You
had many opportunities to kill yourself on your way here and you
elected not to make the attempt.  Walking on airport runways,
going through checkpoints with armed guards who are on edge
already.  Diving off the airplane gangway to the concrete below.
I will concede that those may not have worked, but you might have
gotten lucky. Why didn't you so much as try, eh?"

     For just an instant, anger flashed in the boy's eyes. 
"Because my mom had a death-grip on me from the moment we left my
hospital room.  Anything I might have tried would have endangered
her and I couldn't do that!"

     "Why not?"

     "Because I love her!" and there was a world of pain in that
admission.

     Jane nodded.  "And your father?"  The shoulders hunched
again, and began to shake with the sobs Benny could no longer
hold inside.  His head shook up and down in an exaggerated
affirmative.  "They sent you to me so that I could help you.  If
I fail, and you do . . . injure yourself here, it will hurt them
- quite badly in fact - because they love you, too."

     "My decisions have nothing to do with them. . . or you!"

     "That is where you are wrong, Benny.  I don't know them well
enough to say this for certain, but I sincerely believe that if I
fail and you do manage to injure yourself or worse, then they
will see that as their failure and something deep inside them
will die, too.  Do they deserve that fate?  Do you want them to
suffer like that?"

     "No."

     *thank GOD!* Jane let that negative stand in the growing
silence for several long moments before speaking again.  "You
don't like yourself very much, do you, Benny?"

     Something that might have been a laugh rasped from the boy's
throat.  "Saw that, did you?  I hate myself, Ms. Thompson."

     "Because of the girl?  Janey?"

     "Isn't that enough?!"

     *You are not ready to listen to that argument, young man,*
Jane thought.  "As you will," she replied almost casually.  "But
perhaps you are too close to Benny to be able to judge that fairly."

     "What is that supposed to mean?"

     "I propose that we, for a time, at least, kill Benjamin
McQueen."

     "Huh? For a time?  What's that supposed to mean?"

     "Simply, that you cease to be Benjamin McQueen and instead,
live a life of my choosing so that you can take a more objective
view of Benjamin, as an outside observer."

     "You have some magic wand or medallion that is going to make
that possible?" the teen asked sarcastically.

     "Not quite," Jane said, purposely ignoring his tone.  "And
at the same time, I want you to learn some things about the young
lady who died, some things that you, as Benny, have not had the
need or perhaps more correctly, the opportunity to learn."

     "I have no idea what you are talking about."

     "You agreed to come here, Benny.  Agreed to try whatever I
proposed.  Is that not correct?"

     "My mom. . .my mom cried," he whispered. "I hate it when my
mom cries, and it's worse. . .worse when I. . I. . " he broke
down again.

     "When you cause the tears?" Jane asked, ruthlessly.  At the
affirmative nod, Jane continued.  "Very well.  Here is what you
will have to do to keep your word to your Mother."  That got his
full attention and for the first time, his eyes met and locked
with Jane's.  "You will give me your word to follow the program I
lay out for you.  At the same time, you will promise not to harm
anyone in this house, including yourself, for the entire time you
are in my home."

     "That is awfully open-ended."

     "And your promise to your Mother wasn't?" Jane challenged.

     "How long?"

     "Did you place any time limits on your promise to your
Mother?" Benny looked away, but then shook his head no.  "I
thought not, but I am not your Mother.  Very well.  You will give
me your word for a period of not less than six months and not
more than twelve months.  If I cannot help you to my satisfaction
in that time, I will send you back, and will do so in any case at
the end of one year." *God help me help him, please!*

     He was silent for what seemed like a very long time, but was
in reality only a few heartbeats.  When he finally spoke, all he
said was, "I give you my word."

     "Very well.  Now, if you will go back to your room, my maid,
Marie, and my niece, Victoria are waiting to change you into
someone else."

     "Your . . . your maid? And your niece?  But they're both
girls. . .I mean, women?  They're going to change me?"

     The 'Jane Thompson' grin threatened but was held in check. 
"Why yes.  I did say you'd learn some things about Janey that you
had not had the opportunity to learn before, did I not? For the
foreseeable future, Benny, you will become and live as Penny in
this house.  Unless your word to me and to your Mother has no
value, that is."

     "PENNY?!?!"

     Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     Chapter 18: What Do You Do with a Problem Like Victoria?

     "Can you explain her behavior, Marie?  One minute she's
helping you in the kitchen, without being ordered to do so, I
might add, and the next, she is watching over her little sister
like a broody hen."

     "Jane, you're the one with the psychology degree.  All I
know is that child is working as hard or harder than any student
I can recall, except perhaps Darla.  It's like she is really
trying to learn to be a girl, not just learn to act like a girl."

     "But every time you turn around she is a DIFFERENT girl,
Marie. I have NO idea what she'll do next.  For example, when she
got here she was terrified by just the thought of riding.  Now?
She's facing her fear of the horses like some Rebecca of Sunny
Brook Farms clone."

     "Fear?" Marie choked out a laugh. "Janey, you don't know the
HALF of that one.  That girl has fallen in LOVE with those four-
legged manure-makers. When she's not watching Penny, reading the
fashion magazines and newspapers for your next mealtime quiz,
studying her school lessons or keeping house, she's down at the
stables subverting your livestock."

     "It was a good deal easier to deal with her when she wasn't
quite so brave.  Have you seen those hideous polyester stirrup
pants she wears when she is going to see the horses?"

     Now Marie did laugh, a big, bold laugh totally at odds with
her usual role in Seasons House. "Seen them?  Jane, I *gave* them
to her.  She'd tried going down there in skirts, but that didn't
work.  She laddered three sets of hosiery, including a pair of
silk stockings before going bare-legged.  Then the straw and hay
made her break out into a rash.  She came to me because she
figured that you might really have a fit if she ruined a pair of
those Armani slacks mucking about down there because she doesn't
have any jeans!"

     "Armani to muck out a horse stall. Lord above," Jane sighed,
shaking her head.  "Well, if she stays, we'll buy her some jeans. 
IF she stays.

     "Is that really a possibility?" Marie asked, once again
serious.

     "We've never had a child react like this, Marie.  On the one
hand, I'm rather proud of her for standing up to the things she
fears, but on the other hand, her sudden unpredictability poses a
very real and dangerous threat just now."

     "Danger?  Aren't you overstating the situation? I mean, we
both think she's made the big turnaround, so where's the
problem?"

     "Penny is the problem, Marie, or at least, the root cause of
the problem," Jane said simply.  "Our new student is TRULY
unpredictable because none of the old rules apply to her. Why
should she worry about being exposed publicly as a boy
masquerading as a girl? She's already decided to kill herself
once, and still isn't sure she shouldn't try it again. I can't
trust my past experiences to foretell how she will react to my
lessons. I have to able to give Penny my full attention at all
times so I MUST know how Victoria is going to react and behave
for the simple reason that I have no idea how Penny will."

     "Then I think you need to explain to Victoria, very
carefully and very precisely, just what you are doing and what
you expect of her each time.  I mean, it is not like you dare to
play this one by ear, is it?"

     Jane shook her head sadly. "That's just it, dear.  Even if I
plan everything, I HAVE to wing it with Penny because I am always
guessing with her.  Suppose a situation with Penny gets. . .well,
violent and it very well could unexpectedly.  If I anticipate
Victoria acting like the prissy-missy and instead get the tough
as nails warrior queen from the mall, things could go from worse
to terrible very quickly."

     "I see," Marie said.  "So what do you propose to do? 
Graduate her?"

     "It might be the best thing," Jane sighed, rubbing her
knuckles against her temples.  "For Penny, at least. 
Unfortunately, I told Victoria all about the 'big sister'
function and she is now determined to be a great big sister."

     "You're afraid Victoria might feel she'd failed you and
Penny if you sent her away just now?"

     "There is that," Jane agreed.  "And if I could just trust
her reactions, three pairs of eyes to watch Penny is certainly
better than two pairs.  I only wish I had more information on
which to base my decision."

     "Maybe if you got the whole group together?  Laid out the
issues and got their collective insights?  They might be able to
help you piece it together better."

     "I've talked to them individually already."

     "But they haven't discussed it among themselves," Marie
replied.  "Aren't you the one who told me that sometimes it is
the interaction that is important, not the dialogue?"

     "It is a thought," Jane murmured.

     ~-----------~

     "Well, I don't know why you think there is anything special
about Victoria, Jane" Sandy grinned as she reached for another
cheese cube.  "She reacts to me same as your other girls do.  She
tries to sink into the salon chair and hide."

     "That's true enough," Carolyn Beale agreed, as she nibbled a
sweetly frosted cookie.  "Even after all these months, Victoria
still gets very quiet and demure once she walks into Sandy's
cubicle.

     "And that's all?" Jane asked, "Nothing unexpected?"

     "Not that I can tell," Sandy shrugged.

     "Well, there was the make-up club. . . " Caro reflected.

     "Yes?" Jane pounced.

     "Now that I think about it, that was really unexpected.  You
know how the boys usually are when the girls are all there?  Like
Sandy said, they sort of try to melt into the woodwork only we
won't let them.  Not that they're at any risk so long as they do
as they're told. As the model, the girls aren't seeing them so
much as analyzing them, so they're actually safer than if they
were part of the class group.  Still, getting them to interact at
all during those sessions is always like pulling teeth without
novocaine.  Painful and difficult."

     "And Victoria was different?"

     "She sort of, I don't know, grew into it.  In the beginning,
she was stiff as a board and just as responsive, but then she
began to loosen up. I just thought she was getting used to the
game, kind of like Darla, you know?  Anyway, before the end of
the session, she was chattering like magpie with the other
girls."

     "She whaaat?" Jane goggled.

     "It was rather surprising because I never knew she acted
like that.  I mean, she really was kind of , well, kind of a
ditz. You know, like one of those teenage sitcom actresses or one
of those teen pop artists.  Everything gesture and speech pattern
really exaggerated," Caro demonstrated by swinging her hand about
in broad, sweeping gesticulations, and then giggled. "Lord, that
was funny, because some of girls were really put off by that act. 
Oh, and some of the things she said," Caro shook her head at the
memories.  "I particularly remember that one of the girls asked
why she didn't have pierced ears.  She said that she was waiting
until she could talk you into letting her pierce her navel at the
same time.  I believe her exact words were 'My aunt would have a
cow. . .'. I was going to offer to do the dirty deed for her
during our next session - you know, as a class demonstration -
but Marie showed up to whisk her away before I could say
anything."

     "Over my dead body!" Jane snapped before she could stop
herself.  "Pierced navel, indeed.  What is it with these young
people today.  Anything else?  Brenda?"

     The sleek shop keeper frowned as she stirred her tea. 
"Nothing I haven't already discussed with you, Jane.  You saw the
dresses she chose when she was on her own.  Sweet Polly Purebread
and the 'Lady in Red'.  Nothing in between.  Pure Priss and Pure
Sex."

     "Did you notice anything out of the ordinary about the way
she interacted with the shop girl you sprung on her?"

     "Sally?  What do you mean?"

     "Like what Caro just said about how she behaved with the
girls in the makeup class?"

     "Oh, I understand.  Now that you mention it, Victoria seemed
rather comfortable with Sally, or at least, as comfortable as any
girl can be when she's stripping and dressing while a stranger
watches.  I didn't have to prod her once to get a move on.  It
was almost like. . . well, like she was your basic teenaged girl
enjoying the experience of trying on all those clothes and seeing
what she looked like wearing them."

     "Oh god," Jane groaned as Marie reached over to take her
friend's hand.  "Another Caitlyn?"

     "You think she wants to be a girl?  A real girl?" Carolyn
asked.

     "I don't know.  What you've all just confirmed is that she's
trying out personalities that are inherently feminine, but not
necessarily the one I've tried to teach her.  Part of the very
fussy clothing and over-the-top girlish affectations is that
those behaviors tend to isolate the student, even among girls her
own age.  I don't want my students learning to like the
masquerade too much."

     "Well, does she behave like your other students here at the
mansion, or does she seem to emulate someone else?" Brenda
Franson asked.

     "Marie." "Jane." the two women of Seasons House said in
unison, each pointing at the other.

     "Oh, my goodness," Carolyn said wide-eyed as she selected a
cookie from the plate Marie offered.  "Both of you?"

      "She doesn't emulate me," Jane snorted. "When she's not
being 'the perfect Victorian Seasons House student', she's Mother
Marie in miniature. You should see Victoria when she's trying to
help Penny.  I can tell you, watching her try to mother a student
who has more than six inches height advantage on her is something
to see.  Sometimes, I swear, Victoria wants to diaper Penny,
stick a pacifier in her mouth and rock her to sleep.  Like me,
indeed."

     "Hah!" Marie shot back.  "You don't see her as I do, then."

     "Oh really? And who baked those lady-fingers this lot is so
greedily scarfing down? From scratch, by the way, and we both
know that baking is not among MY great accomplishments."

     "As if you'd let any of our girls escape without learning
how to cook, bake and properly present food.  As to the other,
why, just yesterday, during the dress up exercises following the
30 minute bubble bath from hell?  In walks MISS, emphasis if you
please on the *MISS*, Victoria, in a navy blue power suit no
less, complete with three inch matching heels and that dark
lion's mane of hers up in a killer chignon. And you should have
seen the way Victoria ripped a piece off Penny when our new
little sister blurted out a bad word.  All without using a single
profanity herself, I might add, and in such a 'more in sorrow
than in anger' mode that even Penny felt she must do better,
rather than becoming even more depressed.  I wish I could have
taped that lecture." 

     "Jane to a 'T', eh," Caro asked, grinning.

     "Exactly," Marie replied fervently.  "PERFECT diction,
POINTED critiques - heavens, Jane, she even had your vocal
inflections down perfectly.  And let me tell you, she got Penny's
attention when I couldn't."

     "It sounds," Jane said finally, "as if she is trying very
hard to behave like whatever girl best suits the situation.
Almost as if she were practicing."

     Brenda nodded.  "Or trying them all on in turn and seeing
how they fit?" At Jane's dark glare, Brenda took another sip from
her tea cup before continuing.  "But back to what Carolyn asked. 
Does that mean you think she wants to be a girl?"

     "Harmph," Sandy snorted. "Well, if that kid is planning on
being a girl, she'll be a lot different in one key respect than
Caitlyn, I can tell you that much!"

     "How so?" Jane asked, almost hopefully.

     "THIS kid likes females - a LOT! You know that Taylor girl,
Caro, the blonde who's, ah, developed so suddenly in the last
year?" Sandy's partner nodded.  "Well, just last week I had old
Vickie-babe in my chair and Miss Whole Milk 2002 went bouncing
past my cubicle on her way to the tanning booth, wearing her
very-brief bikini. I thought I was going to have to pour some ice
water on to Victoria's lap. I'll tell you what, if Victoria is
going to be a full time girl, she's going to be a lesbian." 

     "Will she indeed?" Jane asked, more than a touch of frost in
her tones.

     Sandy blushed, but continued.  "Look, Jane, she doesn't act
like Caitlyn, at least not THAT way, okay?  I never got a single
rise out of Caitie - not once in all the times I had her in my
chair, and THAT makes her damned unique in my experience.  Now,
Victoria, well, she still, umm, gets horn. . ., I mean, well,
aroused!"

     "The sheets, Jane," Marie said softly.  At Jane's cocked
brow, the petite French Canadian blushed too, but held her gaze. 
"I still have to change Victoria's sheets quite regularly." She
swallowed delicately.  "Spotting.  Her nightgowns, too."

     The other three women figured out what Marie was hinting at
and began to laugh.  "Such involuntary emissions are usually,"
Jane said haughtily, "very reliable indicators that a boy has
become comfortable in the feminine role and is therefore ready
for my more demanding and public training situations."

     "You mean he's no longer so terrified that he can't get a
hard-on from all that satin rubbing up against him, right?" Sandy
grinned.

     Jane's scathing look did nothing to quell the irrepressible
bottle-blonde stylist, so she simply nodded.  "Just so.  However,
I still don't know what is going on in that child's mind.  I
can't have her changing personalities on me like this.  One
minute she's Pollyanna, the next Britney Spears, and the next who
knows?"

     "Is she still dangerous?" Carolyn asked.  "Victor was
originally sent here because he beat up smaller children, right?"

     The Mistress of Seasons House considered that and then shook
her head.  "I don't believe Victoria is still a public danger.
The way she walked into that confrontation at the mall the other
day proves that.  In the very unlikely event that the old Victor
would have involved himself, he would have gone in swinging, and
hit those punks from behind.  Victoria, on the other hand, just
marched into the middle of those hooligans and tried to stare
them down."

     "Gee," Sandy said, her merrily twinkling eyes locked on
Jane.  "Wonder where she got the idea for THAT strategy?"

     "*I*," Jane said with great self-assurance, "am somewhat
more imposing than a five foot three inch tall teenaged girl in a
First Communion dress.  She nearly got herself hurt!"

     "But she saved the boy," Marie pointed out gently.  "And as
you just pointed out, dear, that is not something *he* would have
done a few months ago.  I think, Jane, that if you are still
worried about her predictability as big sister, we can safely
send her home so that you can fully concentrate on Penny.  She's
changed and it is all to the good."

     "And if she goes home and decides to become a girl?"

     "Then perhaps, dear friend," Marie told her friend, "that is
what was really wrong with her all along.  Maybe being a girl is
what she found here that was missing in Victor."

     "At least the kid has grown a pair of balls," Sandy noted as
she reached for and took the last two cheese cubes from the tray. 
"Or whatever it is girls grow for courage.  Took guts to do what
she did in that mall."

     "Yes, that's true.  The cowardice that led to Victor's
bullying does seem to have come under Victoria's firm control. 
Ever since she insisted on donating blood.  Well, ladies, thank
you for coming.  Please excuse me.  I have to go relieve Victoria
on the Penny-watch."

     The four women sat quietly until Jane had left the room. 
"She's really upset about this," Brenda observed.

     "She's afraid that she's made some kind of error in
Victoria's program; an error that has led Victor to only THINK he
wants to be a girl," Marie said.

     "He doesn't seem at all like Caitlyn," Carolyn reflected. 
"A little more 'rough and ready' than Carlton, if you know what I
mean."

     "Boy or girl," Sandy put in, "I like this Victoria a lot
more than I liked that snot Victor."

     "I think, Sandy, that is part of what is bothering Jane,"
Marie observed softly.  "She likes Victoria, too, and is afraid
that is clouding her judgement in this case.  She's afraid that
her preference for the girl is influencing the boy."

     "Oh."

     Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     Chapter 19: A Big Sister's Big Sister

     Victoria slipped out of her room and into the hallway.  Jane
had the 'Penny-watch' for the next few hours and they'd be
working on grace and movement again today.  By all accounts, poor
Mr. Webster was getting as bad a bruising with Penny as Seasons
House had ever seen.  

     "Has yet to make two complete circuits of the library
without the book sliding off Penny's head," the older woman had
muttered when she'd come to the music room to relieve Victoria.

     
*It's strange, but Jane almost never uses feminine pronouns with
this one.  Oh, she calls her student by that girl name, Penny,
and sometimes 'that girl', but almost never just 'she' or 'her'. 
I don't remember much from Victor's first few days in Ms.
Thompson's silk-gloved, iron-clutches, but I do remember her
gleeful use of all those really girly pronouns and adjectives for
me whenever she got the slightest chance.  Come to think of it,
she doesn't say very much to Penny at all.*

     The suicide watch was real - Victoria knew that - and damned
scary when she let herself think about it.  More than just about
anything, she wanted to be anywhere else but in Seasons House
watching Penny when it was her turn to take that onerous duty,
but she wasn't about to admit that.  She had responsibilities
now. She was the big sister.  That was important and Victor
Denato had never really felt important before.

     Still, the whole idea of suicide really bothered the be-
skirted youngster.  Sure, Victor had talked about 'killing
himself' in those awful early days, had even fantasized about how
his death would screw up Jane Thompson's nasty little setup when
the cops and all the reporters arrived, but that had only been
just that - talk and fantasy. *What had Marie said?  Only cowards
took that way out of their troubles?  Wonder what Penny fears so
much that she'd really do that?  I mean, not even Victor took
that route, did he?*

     That thought surprised Victoria for she had gotten used to
thinking of her masculine alter ego as the coward she now refused
to be herself. *And yet, old Victor had hung in there through the
dark times - through all the hair changes, outfit changes, makeup
lessons and high-heeled strolls with Mr. Webster.  Not to mention
the blistering, soul-shriveling reprimands by one Jane Thompson.
He had been a pig about almost everything Jane tried to teach
him, but he'd hung in there and hadn't taken the easy way out. 
He'd fought, and he'd eventually lost, but he hadn't just quit. 
Maybe that meant old Victor wasn't quite the utter coward she'd
thought.

     Still mulling that revelation and its implications over, the
girl headed down the stairs.  Lunch would probably be late again
as it had been the past three days since Penny's arrival, but
Victoria was hungry. *Well, if my nose is any indication, Marie
was making her world-class lemon-bars earlier this morning and
the cookie jar should be ready for slaughter! After that, I'll
take an apple or two down to the stables.  Won't have time to
stay, but it'll be nice to get away from this for a while.*

     Marie was off doing the weekly shopping, so the kitchen was
deserted when the girl peeked around the door.  Her quest,
however, was successful for the cookie jar had indeed been
fattened that morning. Victoria was soon seated on one of Marie's
kitchen stools, a glass of milk and a plate of cookies close to
hand. Her eyes closed in something akin to sensual ecstacy as she
took the first bite. *The woman is a GODDESS!* she thought as she
chewed the delicate morsel, letting the smooth, tart-sweetness of
the lemon custard fill her senses.

     She was just reaching for her second cookie when the
doorbell rang. "Now who could that be?" she wondered, and then
realized that there was no one else to answer the door.  With a
wistful sigh, she blotted her mouth with a napkin, checked for
crumbs and left the kitchen, promising herself she'd come back
and clean up after she'd dealt with their unexpected visitor. 
She did remember to check her face in the hall mirror and was
pleased to notice she hadn't chewed off her lipstick eating the
cookie.

     Reaching the door, she asked herself *Who answers? Young
Lady of the Manor or the junior housekeeper?* and suppressed a
giggle. She opened the still chained door and peaked out. 
Standing there was a man wearing the winter green dress uniform
of the United States Marine Corps. Twin silver 'railroad tracks'
decorated the epaulets of his dark green tunic and the collar
points of his khaki shirt. 

     "May I help you?" Victoria asked politely, and then she
realized who this had to be.  "YOU'RE JANE'S STUDENT!" she
squealed before slamming the door so she undo the chain allowing
her to fling the heavy door wide open.

     "Captain William Decker, at your service, Ma'am," he said in
a surprisingly soft Southern-accented voice.  "Is Aunt Jane to
home?"

     "Come in, come in," Victoria gushed, all but pulling the
now-grinning man into the foyer.  "JANE!! MS. JANE!! COME
QUICK!!" she shouted up the stairs, her hand still gripping the
Captain's arm.

     "VICTORIA!" Jane snapped as she ran to the head of the
stairs.  "I'm busy with. . . Omigod. . . WIL . . LIAM!" she
shouted as she tore down the stairs in very un-Jane-like haste.

     "I'll go watch Penny, Ms. Jane," Victoria said, remembering
what her teacher had been doing at that moment.  "See you later,
Captain Decker.  Hope you'll stay to lunch, at least." she called
as she hurried up the stairs to the library.

     "Oh god, Will," Jane whispered as she walked into the young
man's strong, open arms, and wept.

     "Hi, Aunt Jane," he said, in an even softer voice than the
one he'd used to greet Victoria.  "It's good to be home."

     ~------------~

     Somehow, a feast was served within thirty minutes of Marie's
return from shopping, one where all the residents of Seasons
House were at table.  Afterwards, Jane excused herself and Penny
to resume the girl's interrupted training and asked Victoria to
entertain their guest for an hour or so.  Victoria immediately
suggested her new favorite thing to do at Seasons House - visit
the horses.  Will agreed readily enough.

     "I've missed ol' Stars 'n Garters," he drawled in the rich
South Carolina accent as he stroked the big saddlebred's nose. 
"She was just 'bout the only thing that kept me sane those first
few weeks here.  Now, I just wish I had more time here."

     "You're leaving soon?"

     "Day after tomorrow I ship out to a place they won't even
tell me yet."

     "Jane said you were in reconnaissance?  Like, going behind
the lines?"

     "We call it 'Force Recon', and yes, that is what I do."

     "You're going after the animals that killed all those
people, aren't you?"

     "Like I said, Victoria.  They haven't told me that, yet.  I
do have my little fantasies, though," William's voice became
wistful.  "Do you think there'd be time for a ride?"

     Victoria thought about it.  "Not tonight, at least, not with
me.  I'd have to change into my riding clothes first, and I go on
duty. . .I mean, it will be my time to tutor our new student in
an hour."

     "Oh yeah.  I forgot about that. Jane mentioned it at lunch. 
Well, how about tomorrow afternoon?"

     "That would be great, only, I'm still learning.  I never sat
a horse before I came here."

     "We'll go easy," he assured her.  "I just want to see the
beach again.  Where ever they're sending me, there won't likely
be a lot of waterfront." 

     ~------------~

     "God, but this is just as beautiful as I remember it,"
William sighed as they reined in to overlook the rocky beach
below.  "This used to be my 'I have to get away from Jane' place
when I was here."

     "So, Ms. Jane hasn't mellowed since you were here," Victoria
asked cheekily.

     "What do you think?" he grinned.  "You ready for some of
that picnic Tante Marie packed for us?  I know I am. That rock
over there looks like a great place for lunch."

     They ate in companionable silence, the husky crewcut man and
the petite feminine creature.  They'd just finished a double
helping of Marie's fried chicken when William turned to look
Victoria in the eyes.  "Jane's worried about you, bro'.  She's
afraid you're planning on hiding in those skirts for the rest of
your life."

     "Bro?!?!" she yelped, and then started to demur only have
will cut her off in mid-denial.

     'Ease off, Vic, okay?  I know who you really are, what you
really are, and I know why you are here in Aunt Jane's Girl's
School for Boys." 

     The last words threatened to freeze Victoria's blood in mid-
pump. *He does know,* her mind screamed even as she managed to
squeak aloud, "You do?  How!!?!" 

     A small grin lit the young Marine officer's face, a grin
that somehow softened facial features that just moments before
had seemed rather stern. "Damn straight, kid.  My name was Wilma
- given to me by an Irish fella named Finn whose Jane-Name is
Fiona. As to how? Well, all I can say is been here, done that,
got the lace teddie to prove it!" 
"My god.  You're telling the truth, aren't you?"

     "I am an officer and a gentleman, sis.  So, answer the
question. *Are* you hiding in skirts?  Suppose Jane said, right
now, that you could go back to being Victor.  Would you?"

     The response was quick and positive. "No."

     "Why not?" he asked, without any note of censure in his
voice.  "Have you decided you're really a girl?  There are guys
who feel  that way.  From what she told me, even one of Jane's
students once."

     "What if I *do* want to be a girl?" Victoria retorted, her
chin coming up stubbornly. "What business is that of yours?"

     William stretched out on the rock without taking his eyes
off Victoria. "Point taken." he shrugged. "It isn't any of my
business, if it's for the right reasons.  If it's for the wrong
reasons, meaning reasons that reflect poorly on Jane, then I'm
making it my business.  Hell, bro, you can screw your life up
anyway you want, but Jane matters to me.  I wouldn't want to see
her hurt."

     "I don't want to hurt her either!"

     "Good enough! So, prove to me that your desire to continue
in this admittedly unusual lifestyle that was admittedly forced
on you by Aunt Jane is really the best answer for you."

     Shame colored her face and she could no longer meet
William's eyes.  Finally, she whispered, "Victoria doesn't beat
up on little kids."

     "Okay. I can see where someone Aunt Jane has helped would
think that was important.  On the other hand, Victor hasn't
beaten up any little kids for months.  Why should he start that
up again when he leaves here?"

     "Because Victor is . . . a . . . coward!"

     William snapped upright to stare at Victoria.  "Whoa, there,
bro.  I heard you faced down a gang of thugs in a mall. By
yourself. That doesn't sound like cowardice to me."

     "That was Victoria, not Victor."

     "Same difference, Vic."

     "No it's not," Victoria replied sharply.  "Jane knows the
difference.  She praised *Victoria* for being brave - by NAME. 
She's proud of *Victoria*.  She thinks *Victor* is a coward and
has said so on several occasions - again by NAME."

     "Hell, bro, that don't prove anything. She still calls *me*
Wilma most of the time.  It's now her special nickname for me. 
She knows you're Victor.  And neither one of you is a coward."  

     "You just wouldn't understand," she responded bleakly,
blinking hard against the tears of shame prickling at her eyes. 
"You're a Marine, and you've been in combat.  You're brave and
tough.  Victor is a coward, and Victoria doesn't have to convince
anyone she's tough."  

     "Well, that at least is true. Victoria doesn't have to
convince anyone she's tough, that she's brave.  But at the same
time, neither does Victor.  Hell, courage isn't something that
you vote on.  No one else's opinion matters but your own.  It's
all internal, man.  If I learned anything in the Corps, that's
it."  

     "What do you mean?"

     "Tough is not giving up.  That's it, pure and simple.  You
don't give up while you're still breathing.  You have that
attitude, and the biggest bully in the world will back down."

     "There's got to be more to it than that," Victoria asserted
dubiously.

     Will grinned at that. "Of course, you may get your ass
handed to you a few times.  Lord knows I did.  Drill sergeants
are the fiends from Hell, believe me, and they *live* for unarmed
combat practice against shave-tail officer candidates, or as THEY
called us, officer candy-asses.  But it doesn't matter whether
they can beat your body.  Tough means they can't beat your mind. 
Nobody comes out of Marine boot camp without that sort of
toughness.  The REAL sort of toughness."

     William paused, and then pointed back up the hill toward the
old Victorian mansion. "And nobody comes out of Miss Jane's
Girls' School for Boys without the same kind of fortitude.  Trust
me, kid, you got it."

     "No I don't.  Jane just put you up to this."
"Nope, she didn't.  Look, kid, you took off on your own, didn't
you, dressed like a sissy and with that infernal long-lasting
makeup of hers so that you could donate blood.  What did you
think was gonna happen when you got there?"

     "It didn't matter.  It was just something I had to do."

     "Bingo!  As good a definition of tough as I've ever heard,"
he said before laughing at himself.  "Oops, not quite. Standing
up to Miss Jane, now *that* takes guts, man.  But you did that,
too. And you did them both as Victor, right?   

     "For all the wrong reasons."

     "And now you recognize that they were wrong, but that
doesn't mean you weren't tough."

     "Just pretty dumb, huh?"

     "You said it, kid, I didn't, but I will say something, man-
to-man, okay?"

     "Yes?"

     "I think you'll find old Victor to be a pretty good guy if
you ever decide to give him another chance.  As great a gal as
Victoria has become, he couldn't be anything else.  I know I'd be
proud to call him friend, or go into a tight spot with him
guarding my back."  

     The primly-dressed equestrienne looked at the trim Marine
with wide eyes.  The idea that a warrior, a hero, would consider
*Victor* someone valuable to have around when courage was called
for was . . . a lot to consider.  

     The young man noticed her confusion, and grinned easily.
"Let's be heading back.  As I recall, it takes a while to bed
these hay-burners down after a good ride."

     "Um, fine.  Whatever you say," the distracted brunette
replied.  

     "Need a leg up?" William asked easily.  

     "Yes, please," Victoria replied, accepting his aid to get
back on the tall horse.  They rode back in companionable silence,
Victoria's horse following William's mount without conscious
guidance on her part.
 
Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     Chapter 20: A Time to Rest

     When they got to the stable, William helped remove the tack
from the horses, but as Victoria reached for the brush to groom
them, he asked, "Um, Vic, would you do me a favor and finish up? 
I need to go talk to Aunt Jane about something."  

     "Of course," she said politely.  "I don't mind anyway.  I
love working on them."  

     "Thanks, bro, see you up at the house."

     When Victoria had completed caring for the horses, she
strolled up the path to the house with a combination of
distraction and anticipation.  She wanted to talk to William some
more, about what he had said, but it wasn't something that could
be discussed at Miss Jane's formal dinner table - not with Penny
there, too.  When she reached the door into the kitchen area,
Marie met her with a broad smile.  

     "Ah, cherie, you smell like horses.  Again."

     "Sorry, Marie.  It happens."

     "I know, child, but you need to go get cleaned up.  However,
Miss Jane wants to see you first.  She's in the library with
Penny."  

     "Before I shower?" 

     "Yes, ma petite, right away."

     When Victoria reached the library, the door was open and she
saw Penny, carefully navigating the room in her latest pair of
high heels, one hand tucked into crook of William's elbow and the
ever-unwelcome Mr. Webster perched atop her now-blonde head. *My
goodness but those make her so tall! Like she is all leg from
down there to up here! She must have four, maybe five inches on
William in those spikes.  Her ankles are going to KILL her
tonight.* She was raising her hand to knock politely on the
door's frame when Jane saw her standing in the doorway.  

     "Come in, Victoria," she called, amusement rather than
distaste in her expression, despite Victoria's smudged face and .
. . distinct aroma.  

     William smilingly excused himself from his 'companion' and
turned to greet Victoria.  Jane moved around the still-marching
Penny, and faced her diminutive charge.  "I just wanted you to
know, that William has my permission to make his request of you,
but how you respond is your choice."

     "What request?"

     Jane's eyes twinkled, but she shook her head.  "That is for
William to explain."  

     Just then there was a thud behind them, and they both looked
at the sound to see Penny bending down, picking up the dictionary
that had fallen from her head.  

     Jane sighed, and said, "Perhaps you should go get cleaned up
now, Victoria."

     "Yes, ma'am," Victoria dutifully replied.  She retraced the
familiar path to the top of the second floor, but before she
could reach her room, she was again intercepted.

     "Vic, can I talk to you for a minute?" asked William.

     "Of course," she said politely.  

     "How long has it been since you've seen a movie?" he asked.

     "A movie?"

     "Yeah. Or, in the terms of upper-crust snobbery, a 'film.' 
You're not a snob, are you?"

     "No!  At least, I hope not."

     "Good.  So, let's go see a movie.  We'll get a little dinner
first, okay?"

     "I, uh, you mean, go out together?"

     "Sure.  Why not?"

     "But I'm a . . . I mean, you know I'm a . . . "
William laughed and said, "Sure I do and you know that I'm
married - quite happily as a matter of fact.  But you're still
mighty decorative so it's not like it would be a hardship to
spend some time with you.  And unless you intend to throw me down
and rape me - which I don't think you're quite big enough to do,
besides I've been trained in hand-to-hand combat by experts -
we'll just be two friends hangin' out, having a good time. Do you
have a problem with that?"

     "Uh, no, I guess not, I mean, no, not at all.  Heaven knows
I haven't had much in the way of 'hangin' out time' since I first
arrived here at Jane's place."

     "Great, see you in - hmmm, you *will* need to take a shower
- say, an hour?"

     Victoria nodded, her mind whirling with the unexpected
development.  It was all right, really.  William could spend an
evening with Victor doing exactly what he described, so why not
Victoria?  Yet, it was . . . different, too.  But Miss Jane had
said it was okay, so . . . 

     "That would be, um, fine.  What's playing?"

     "Well, there's where you've got a choice.  There's the new
Mel Gibson war movie, a Jim Carrey comedy and a, uh, well, I
guess you'd call it a chick-flick."

     "Chick-flick? What is that?"

     "My wife loves them.  Romantic, usually with at least two
scenes guaranteed to make the ladies cry, one of them happy
tears, guys being made to look foolish at least three times by
their girls and a happy ending, which usually means marriage with
the bride meeting all criteria to wear white."

     "Oh.  Umm, have you seen any of the movies?"

     "Nope."

     "You don't have a preference."

     "Not fair, Vic.  I told you to choose."

     "Oh. Well, could we go see the war flick, but if asked, sort
of hint we saw a, what did you call it? A chick-flick?  He is a
favorite of the ladies, isn't he?"  
"I think we could tell her we saw a Mel Gibson movie without
lying."

     "Good. And I want popcorn!  A bucket with LOTS of butter and
salt.  I am so bloody tired of Marie's low-salt, low fat healthy
snacks.  I think she does that to encourage us to learn to bake!"

     "Go get cleaned up, Vic, and I'll meet you downstairs."

     Victoria hurried into her room, stripping off her riding
clothes and hoping Marie wouldn't be too angry that she just left
them lay.  But she had more important things to worry about. 
What was she going to wear?!

     ~----------~

     The Armani pants suit was just what she wanted - elegant and
dressy enough to suit Aunt Jane, but not 'dress-feminine'. 
Somehow, both factors had been important to the teen when faced
with the problem of selecting her outfit.  Suiting Aunt Jane was
important because, well, she was Aunt Jane.  Victoria wasn't
quite so sure about why the second factor she was important.
*Maybe because it is hard to guard somebody's back in spiked
heels and a hobble-skirt?* she thought as she slid into the seat
of William's Mustang.

     "Still want to see the Gibson?" he asked as he pulled onto
the private drive leading to the main road.  At Victoria's nod,
he grinned.  "Look, Vic, relax, okay?  I know about Penny, and
Jane felt you had earned a little decompression time.  If there's
something you'd rather do than go to the movies, tell me.  Think
of it as a 'guy's night' if you want, instead of as a date."

     "A guy's night?"

     "Sure.  Feel free to cuss like a sailor and far. . .I mean,
pass gas if you want.  Or, if you prefer, we can go to the
country club - Jane arranged a guest membership for me - and do
the guy and gal on a date thing.  You like dancing?  It's the one
thing Jane made me learn that I really did like, even if I did
have to let her lead."

     Victoria laughed and felt herself relax.  "I think I'll pass
and the swearing and gas-passing, and I don't feel like dancing. 
The movie sounds perfect.  But I WAS serious about that popcorn,
mister!"

     "Okay, but you figure out how to keep the grease stains off
that silk suit. *I* am not explaining to Jane and Marie how it
got messed up."

     "SILK?!?!  Oh, Shi. . sugar!"

     "I thought we weren't swearing tonight, Vic?"

     "Shut up, Wilma."

     "Yes, Aunt Jane."

     ~---------------~

     "I'm so glad you came, Will," Jane told her student as she
and Victoria escorted him to his car the next morning.  "I just
wish your wife could have come, too."

     "She's tied up with the emergency recovery stuff, but she
insisted I come up to see you before I. . .before I ship out."

     "Tell her I'm very grateful," Jane said, pulling him into
her arms for a tight, loving hug.  "I'll write.  So will Marie." 
The little maid was inside supervising Penny in the cleanup
following breakfast.

     William nodded, then smiled down at Victoria. "Will you
write to me, too?"

     "Me?" she squeaked in surprise.  

     "Sure.  Include a picture, and spritz it with perfume.  I'll
be the hero of my battalion.  Maintaining the most honored
traditions of the Corps - a girl in every port." 

     "Oh, you!" Victoria snorted, playfully swatting him on the
arm. She had him figured for the 'hopelessly in love with his
wife monogamous' sort since he'd spent their entire meal the
night before regaling Victoria with stories of his wife and
family.  

     "Well?" Will insisted, cocking a brow in challenge.  

     "Well what?" she sniffed, beginning to enjoy the flirtatious
banter.

     "Are you gonna write to me, too?  I'd like to hear from you. 
Really."
Jane watched as her student blushed, and then nodded.

     "And a picture?" William wheedled, earning himself another
blush and another hesitant nod. "Great.  And tell your twin that
I'd like to hear from *him*, too."

     "Okay," she said quietly.  "I'll make sure he gets the word
and that you get your letter."

     There was an awkward moment as the pair, both students of
Jane Thompson stared at each other, unsure what to do next.  Jane
looked around and made sure they were alone.  "Look, you two, if
you were both in trousers, you'd probably hug. If you were both
in skirts, you WOULD hug.  Let's not be foolish here!" she
snapped in her best school-marm voice.

     William grinned at Jane, then opened his arms in invitation. 
With only a moment's hesitation, Victoria stepped inside their
strong circle and returned the embrace, her head resting on his
strong chest.  "Hang in there, bro," William whispered just
before letting her go, "You're gonna be one of Jane's great
ones."

     Jane and Victoria stood at the head of the circle, watching,
long after the little red sports car was no longer in sight. 
Finally, the fall wind whipping about their hair chilled them
enough to break through the reveries.  "Come along, Victoria. 
Penny's new clothes arrived yesterday and we have a great deal to
do so that she will be ready for her first salon visit day after
tomorrow." With that, the Mistress of Seasons House offered her
hand to her senior student, and then led the way back to the
mansion's door.

     Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     Chapter 21: A Time to Fight

     Jane cut the engine of the Lincoln and then turned a cocked
brow to the girl seated beside her.  "I believe I win our little
impromptu wager?" she asked.  "Safely parked with no damage to
either my car or the other two cars.  So YOU have the entire
cleanup tonight after dinner.  I'll ask Marie to make sure it is
something sticky that requires all the pans in the kitchen."

     Victoria smiled sheepishly.  "Don't know how you got this
huge boat of a car into that little bittie space, but you did it,
Aunt Jane."

     Jane smiled approvingly at her senior student.  While she
normally squelched such games, the touch of humor eased the
almost stifling tension that had pervaded the car since their
departure from Seasons House.  She was more than a little anxious
about this outing and Victoria's "No way you're going to get this
monster in that parking space," followed by her mischievous
"Wanna bet, Aunt Jane?" had helped.  A quick check in the
rearview mirror revealed that even Penny was a little less grim.
*Or is that wishful thinking on your part, Thompson?"

     "All right, I'll be back in a few minutes.  I just have to
drop these papers by at my attorney's office.  Victoria, you will
introduce Penny to the ladies," she ordered before turning to
face Penny directly.  "You will obey Carolyn and Sandra as you do
me.  I have already given them their instructions and I will be
back in no more than an hour."

     "Yes, Ms. Thompson," the tall junior student murmured,
refusing to meet Jane's eyes.

     "Come on, Penny," Victoria chirped.  "Or we'll be late for
our appointments."

     Jane watched from the curb as the new boy-girl not-quite-
gracefully followed her diminutive big sister into the Marisha
Chalet. The two inch tall heels of her new shoes were still
challenging for Penny, but with her already impressive height,
Jane did not think public outings wearing anything more extreme
would be very likely. 

     She sighed to herself as they slipped inside the ornate
storefront door.  Jane was sorely tempted to wait on going to the
attorney's office, and be there in the shop for this entire
session, but that would put a very large deal she'd been working
on for months at risk.  For herself, Jane didn't much care, but
the Pediatric Oncology Clinic at Children's Hospital would
benefit greatly from the outcome of this particular deal. 

     Sighing, she restarted the engine, signaled her intention to
pull back into the line of traffic, and checked behind her.
*Besides, you've already talked to Caro about the special care
and feeding needed for this one.  Maybe, if she gets through this
appointment and then one next week without incident, we can get
back to a more 'normal' salon routine.  Please.*

     ~----------~

     Victoria greeted Carolyn Beale with a big smile and a quick
hug, much to the surprise of the taller brunette.  "Well, hello
there," she said, returning the hug.  "And how are you, today,
Miss Denato?"

     "Very well, thank you, Mrs. Beale," Victoria returned
pertly.  "Are you and Sandy ready for us?"

     "Sure are," Caro replied.  "We cleared the decks for your
two and are ready to work our fingers to the bone.  Sandy?" 

     The yellow-haired, voluptuous-to-almost-the-point-of-being-
considered-plump stylist came out of a cubicle in the rear of the
shop, wearing smock that was emblazoned with the Chalet's highly
stylized trademark.  "Yes, Carolyn?"

     "Are you ready for Miss Penny, here?  I'm going to TRY to do
something with THIS one,"

     Sandy gave a bark of laughter that sent chills down
Victoria's spine. "Sure, send her back.  I've been looking
forward to this."

     ~----------~

     Victoria listened to Caro's stream of chatter with only half
an ear - the true focus of her attention was squarely on what was
going on in the next cubicle where Sandy was in the process of
creating a hair weave for Penny.  Jane wanted the new student to
be able to dispense with the wigs.

     ~-----------~

     "Oh, my, your hair is going to be *sooo* pretty when I get
done with you.  I just love deep, dark hair, and you're going to
look like you dipped your head in ink.  It's going to swirl
around you like a dark cloud, mysterious and eye-catching."

     "Umm, thank you, umm, Sandy, is it?"

     "That's my name, Penny.  And when I'm done with you, you're
going to remember it, too!  Now, hold still while I get this
weave set."

     ~----------~

     There was really very little to be done for Victoria which
gave Carolyn the freedom to take care of some other shop business
while Sandy worked on Penny.  Thus, Caro had been in and out of
the cubicle several times, in response to the ringing of the door
bell or to answer the phone.  This gave Victoria the chance to
concentrate fully on what was going on with Penny and Sandy.

     ~-------------~

     The work on Penny's head essentially complete, Sandy lifted
the cape that draped her client and looked at the body beneath. 
Penny's new outfit was relatively simple - a white cotton blouse
under a sleeveless cotton sweater in dark red with a matching
kilt-cut skirt that was hemmed to show about five inches of thigh
on the very tall girl.

     "My goodness, sweet-cheeks, but you have such loonnngg legs. 
They are definitely your best feature, though they are a bit
bony.  We're going to have to have Jane get you some tighter,
tinier skirts to show off those legs.  Boys just go crazy for the
leggy types.  Why, it almost makes me jealous."

     "I . . .I never thought about it. . .that way."

     "Well, start thinking about it, girl!  When you're stalking
the male of the species, you have to have your weapons ready! 
Tell you what!  I'm going to treat you to a leg waxing, right
now! Good thing you didn't wear stockings."

     ~------------~

     Victoria frowned at that last exchange, particularly at the
hitch she'd heard in Penny's voice.  Sandy was starting to really
get to the taller girl and the senior student was beginning to
worry. *I really wish Jane was here,* she thought unhappily. *I
know she talked to these two about Penny, but I just don't trust
Sandy.  She likes playing the ball-busting bitch too much and
dammit, Penny is still too fragile for that stuff!  Where IS
Jane?  Her hour was up twenty minutes ago!*

     ~------------~

     The leg waxing had been hard on the young person in the
salon chair in more ways than just the sensation of hair being
jerked out by the roots, and Sandy was feeling very good about
herself.  Lifting the girl's skirt to get "all the way to the
bikini line," had been a stroke of genius, if she did say so
herself. Talk about threat of exposure. Now, however, it was time
to break the really bad news to Jane's newest pupil.

     Sandy's smile became feral, and Penny felt herself recoil at
the sight.  "Well, sissyboy, we're ready to work on your face. 
That *will* be a challenge."

     ~-----------~

     Both stylist and unwilling client went silent, and for the
first time in her life, Victoria understood the concept of things
being 'too quiet'.  If her ears had designed with muscles, she
would have strained them trying to hear what was going to happen
next. *JANE!* her mind screamed, *This feels wrong - VERY wrong
and I have no idea what to do!!*

     ~-----------~

     "C'mon, sit still and act like a woman.  Plucking eyebrows
doesn't hurt *that* much.  Stop those silly tears or you'll ruin
your mascara and THEN I'll have to do it all over again!" 

     With a look of utter disgust, Sandy threw the tweezers down
onto her work shelf. "I just don't know what I'm going to be able
to do with you, sweetcakes," Sandy said in saccharin-sweet tones. 

     "Ma'am?" Penny asked, her choked-back tears suddenly
clogging her throat.

     "Usually," the stylist said, taking Penny's chin in one
overly firm hand and twisting her face side to side, as if
examining her client's feature in profile, "You *boys* that come
in here like this USUALLY have SOME redeeming features that I can
embellish, but I just don't know about you.  I don't think Mary
Kay herself could make you pretty."

     "B. . .boy? I. .I . . I'm not a . . "

     A raised hand cut her off in mid-denial and the smile Penny
got was as frightening as anything that had happened to him since
his parents had turned that Thompson woman loose on him.  "Oh, I
know what you are under those silkies and frillies, sissyboy. 
You think I didn't notice your, ah, sudden growth when I did that
waxing?  Too bad you're so small there and so big everywhere
else.  Guess that's why you want to be a girl, eh?

     "I don't want to. . "

     "I don't care what you want, sissypoo.  Now you look here,
okay?  YOU came into my salon and sat down in MY chair.  That
means YOU get the full girl treatment, even if it won't do you
much good. HOWEVER, girls LIKE being pampered, sissy. Unless you
start smiling, I might just have to let the rest of my shop know
what a pervie little boy I have in my chair.  Start looking
happy!"

     "I. . .I.. don't understand," Penny all but whimpered.

     "I will be happy to explain it to you, pussyboy! You're not
the first girly boy I've had in here. Unfortunately, it's my job
to make you look pretty and worse, I think it is going to take
all my considerable skill to get YOU to the level of wolf-ugly."

     "Wolf. . .ugly?"

     "Yeah, that's where if a guy wakes up and finds you sleeping
on his arm, he'll gnaw it off at the shoulder to escape." Pleased
with that shot, Sandy turned her back on the girl so she missed
seeing the full impact of her next barb.  "God, it's a good thing
you aren't a girl - you'd die a bloody virgin because no man and
certainly no woman would want the likes of you!"

     ~---------~

     Victoria heard the first sob and then Penny's complete
emotional breakdown.  The anguished outpouring was overlaid by
Sandy's hissed out threats and curses, but all that did was
increase Penny's volume and distress.  Without another thought,
Victoria was out of her chair and into Sandy's cubicle.  One look
told her all she needed to know.

     ~--------~

     Jane hurried into the shop and came up short as the shouting
from the back of the stylish salon registered.

     "I don't care what you think, Sandy, you come one step
closer and I will put you on your as. . backside."

     "Get out of my way, you silly little bitch!  That's my chair
and Jane told me to take care of your playmate.  You won't like
it if I have to let everyone out in the waiting room on your
little secret."

     "What, you're going to tell them that I am really a boy
under this little disguise?  Go right ahead, but you're not
laying another hand on Penny until Aunt Jane gets here, now BACK
THE HELL OFF!"

     "Come on, Victoria," Caro's softer, more reasonable voice
cajoled.  "You know Sandy.  Just let her do her job."

     "Like she's done already?  No way, Caro!  I've spent over a
week trying to help Jane get this girl ready and I am NOT going
to let that blond bit. . that blond partner of yours destroy what
we worked so hard to accomplish because she wants to play 'Ilsa,
She-Wolf of the SS' in a salon smock!"

     Now afraid, Jane rushed to the back cubicle and was stunned
to see Victoria, one hand behind her back holding a starkly pale
Penny's hand.  Sandy was trying to push her way past the small
brunette to get to her chair while Caro was literally wringing
her hands as she looked on in wide-eyed disbelief.

     "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!?!"

     "Jane," all three unseated women said with varying degrees
of relief and victory. Sandy moved in first.  "Get this stupid
little fool of a girl the hell out of my way, Jane.  She's
interfering with my program for Penny."

     "Victoria?" Jane asked, very quietly.

     "Sandy browbeat her into break down, Aunt Jane.  I don't
know precisely what she said that did it, but there was a scream
and then Penny was crying really, really hard. I came running in
and she looked like she was going to be sick."

     "Oh for god's sake, Jane," Sandy fumed.  "You know what we
do, and you know how we do it. What's the big deal with this one? 
So she started blubbering a little.  Didn't you tell me that
learning to cry was part of the deal for your students?  Penny's
learned to cry, okay? Get little Miss Florence Nightingale out of
my way so I can finish what I've started!"

     "Don't leave me, Victoria," Penny begged, nearly hysterical,
her grip making Victoria wince, "Please don't leave me."

     Jane watched as Victoria reached around her back with hand
to pat the Penny's clutching hand.  "I won't, Penny," the senior
girl promised softly yet firmly, all the while keeping her level
glare locked on Sandy.  

     Jane also saw the abject terror that lined her junior
pupil's face, and worse, the renewed haunted look in her eyes
that had not been so much in evidence the past few days. *I
should have been here,* she railed at herself.  "Sandra, I would
like to speak with you in the back, please.  Carolyn, if you
would clean Penny up for me, we will be leaving as soon as I've
had a few words with Sandra."

     "Jane!" Sandy all but whined.

     "In the BACK, SANDRA!" Jane bit out each word and even the
aggressive blonde knew she'd gone too far.  "I'll only be a
moment, Victoria."

     Carolyn checked to see how far Sandy had gotten and nodded.
"Not much to clean up.  I'll just brush out her hair and she can
get out of the chair," she told Victoria who still held her
little sister's icy hand in hers.

     "Guess I really let the cat out of the bag," Victoria said
so softly only Caro heard her. "Announcing to all your customers
and helpers that I'm really a boy, but it was the only thing I
could think of to convince Sandy I was serious and willing to go
to the mat on this one."

     "If there had been any of those here, you would have," Caro
whispered back as she finished the brush-out and removed the
protective cape from Penny's shoulders, "but we opened early for
you two, and none of my other customers or helpers are here yet. 
Just the four of us and Jane.  Jane warned us that Penny was
fragile.  I guess I didn't realize how fragile."

     "And Sandy didn't care," Victoria finished sourly as she
helped a stiff and shaking Penny down from the salon chair.

     Just then, the door to the back room burst open and a rigid-
spined, stone-faced Jane Thompson burst from the room followed by
a now-weeping Sandra.  "We're leaving now," she said quietly. 
"Victoria, please help Penny to the car.  Carolyn, I will call
you later." And then she followed the two students out the door
without a backward glance or another word.

     "Oh god, Carolyn, I knew that one was like Michael," Sandy
sobbed.  "I knew he was suicidal, but I thought that telling him
he wouldn't be a pretty girl would *help* in the end, not hurt! 
I mean, all those other guys Jane brought in here would rather
have *died* than have their masculinity questioned by saying they
look pretty.  How was I supposed to know that was *exactly* what
bothered him?" 

     Unable to think of anything else to do, Carolyn Beale took
her longtime partner and friend into her arms and let her cry.

     ~-----------~

     "How is she?" Victoria asked when Jane and the nurse from
the storefront clinic came down the stairs.  Jane had called the
woman on her cell-phone during the drive back from the beauty
salon.

     "Asleep.  Nora gave her a mild sedative and Marie is with
her."

     "I have to get back to the hospital, Jane.  I think you'd
better call in your experts now because that child is going to
need some serious help.  Michael's closest, but if Eric Davis can
get free, I think you should consider asking him in on this one. 
Crisis intervention is his specialty."

     "Michael's on his way," Jane said, rubbing sharp knuckles
into her temples.  "Thanks for coming, Nora.  I'll keep you
informed."

     Jane saw her friend to the door and then returned to the
sitting room where she found Victoria laying out a simple meal of
tea, sandwiches and fruit.  She wasn't hungry, but knew she
should eat, if only to keep her blood sugar in the normal range.

     "You did very well today, Victor," Jane said finally,
drawing a startled look from her student.  "You put yourself
between another and a fate truly worse than death, and sacrificed
your greatest secret to protect her."

     "No one was there to hear," the weary teen retorted.

     "You didn't know that," Jane smiled gently.  "Caro made sure
I knew that - that and to check on Penny is why she called. "I've
never had a boy sacrifice the masquerade for another before. 
That was incredibly brave of you."

     "It's not really my greatest secret, you know," Victoria
replied before she quite realized what she was saying.

     "Oh?  How unusual.  One of the key assumptions of my program
is that a boy will do almost anything to keep from giving himself
away while dressed as a girl.  If you don't mind my asking, what
is a bigger secret than that? You don't have to answer, by the
way.  As far as I'm concerned, you graduated with flying colors
today, my lad."

     "How strange to hear myself described in the masculine tense
again," the boy-in-girl's clothing said. Carefully made up eyes
looking up into suddenly gentle ones owned by Aunt Jane.  "My
great secret?  You already know it.  I'm a coward - Victor is a
coward."

     "I thought that Wilma, I mean, William had helped you get
past that bit of self-compartmentalization.  I have not thought
you a coward since the day you asked, no, DEMANDED to give blood. 
Since then, you have at times displayed more courage than good
sense, but you are NO coward.  Unless. . ."

     "Unless what?"

     "Unless you decide remain Victoria for the sole purpose that
you can hide in her skirts."

     "Guess I can't very well do that, can I?"

     "Oh, you could, but it would mean a great deal of sacrifice
- sacrifices I don't think you should make because, unlike
another of my students, you don't really want to be a girl.  So,
my lad, show some courage.  Be a man, in the finest sense of that
word."

     Victoria/Victor considered that.  "I'll try. What happens
now?"

     "We get Penny professional help and go from there.  I don't
think we can safely proceed with what I had planned now.  Not
until the experts say she is out of danger.  DAMN Sandy.  Damn me
for not being there."

     "Aunt Jane?"

     "Yes, dear?"

     "I don't know how you handle. . . well, graduation?  But if
there's any chance I can help?  With Penny, that is?  I'd like to
stay.  I could continue my lessons here.  I'd like to move into a
more science-oriented program, or at least, find out if I have
what it takes to do that.  I figure I can do that here as well as
back home.  Probably better because you're a better teacher than
anyone I've had before."

     "Why, thank you, dear.  As to graduation, I usually send the
senior student off when the junior is ready to become a big
sister.  Because of the delicate nature of things with Penny, I
was considering sending you home tomorrow - as soon as Michael
arrives to give us added support here in the house.  You want to
stay?"

     Victor/Victoria shrugged, and felt the thick mass of dark
hair dance about her face and shoulders. *Odd that it feels so
strange now.* "Yes, Ma'am.  She's. . .he's my little sister, you
know?"

     Jane smiled at that.  "She is indeed that, even if she does
tower over you by half a foot.  All right, if Michael and Eric
agree, we'll keep you on, for a while longer at least.  And you
want a tougher science curriculum, eh? Now what ever for?" 
Victoria blushed deeply, eliciting a tired grin from Jane.  "All
right, give.  Why the change in attitude about school work?"

     "The horses," Victoria told her.  "I, ah, umm,. . "

     "What have I told you about speaking clearly and succinctly,
Miss Denato?" Jane demanded in a fair imitation of her usual
brusk acerbity. 

     "I want to go pre-vet in college and become a large-animal
veterinarian," she got out in a rush.

     Pleased, Jane put her hand out to run her fingers down her
student's cheek.  "Excellent choice.  And I just happen to have
some influence with the best private high school in the country. 
When it is time for you to leave here, I should be able see you
provided for at Saint Andrews Academy.  Assuming you do as well
as I know you will, we will have no trouble getting you into a
first class pre-vet program.  It will be my pleasure."

     "You mean that, don't you?" and there was wonder in those
words.

     "I never say anything I don't mean.  You should know that by
now."

     Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     Chapter 22: A Time to Grow

     Victor did stay, but as Victoria.  Michael, she was
surprised to discover, was the same doctor who had taken her
blood donation, Dr. Michael Nash.  He was ALSO both a former
student and semi-adopted son of one Jane Thompson.

     Not only that, but he made one heck of cute blonde as
Michelle.  Drop dead gorgeous, in fact.  Victoria had initially
been a little upset by the discovery of Michael/Michelle's
connection to Aunt Jane.  Since Michael and Nora had already been
in on Jane's little secrets, that meant Victoria's 'courageous
revelation' at the clinic had really not in any way endangered to
Victoria's future reputation.  She'd been moping about that, and
feeling more than a little guilty for those feelings, until Jane,
being Jane, had set things straight.

     "Courage, my dear, is being afraid and facing what you fear
without backing down.  You had EVERY reason to be afraid at the
clinic.  Whether the threat was real or not, you were certain
that is was authentic, as I intended.  I said I was proud of you,
did I not?"

     And that had been that.  Jane did not lie about such things.
In fact, Jane did not lie. *She simply fails to tell the whole
truth or tells the truth in a deceptive way when it suits her
purposes or plans for a student's education,* Victoria realized.

     Dr. Eric Davis, clinical psychologist, was also now in
residence, but his arrival did nothing to change the totally
feminine environment of Seasons House.  The good doctor was yet
*another* of Jane's 'boys' who had at one time been one of Jane's
'girls'.  If Erica wasn't QUITE as cute as Michelle, she was
still a fox, but then, Victoria had recently discovered within
herself a partiality to tall, sleek redheads.  Especially since
her alter ego, Victor, had come under Aunt Jane's guidance.

     Seasons House remained a bastion of the gentler sex because
the two doctors felt that the presence of men in the house might
be more threatening to their patient. So, after consulting with
Michael's "Momma-Jane" upon their arrival, both had quickly and
easily changed into their female personas.  Penny's round-the-
clock suicide watch was back, but now there were trained
professionals watching the patient in addition to the ladies of
Seasons House.  Essentially, the plan was that Jane, Marie and
Victoria would interact with Penny as before, while Michael and
Eric kept her under surveillance using Jane's monitors and
security cameras.

     It was a plan that worked well enough, until that is, one
day about a week after the abortive trip to the Marisha Chalet.

     ~-----------~

     Victoria felt a sharp edge of excitement curl through her
gut as she entered Penny's room.  The room, which had been barren
of bric-a-brac before, and which had some of the strangest
furnishing and design touches Victoria had ever seen (those
windows with the steel mesh inside were downright ugly) had been
given a ruthless going over by the two doctors.  Things she'd
never have thought could be used as weapons, like the heavy satin
comforter, the thick wall curtains and the vanity stool had been
removed along with every bottle, pot and tube. *Heavens,* she
thought still amazed, *They went so far as to take Penny's
toothbrush away, giving it to her only after eating and then
taking it back again after use.*

     Even the food and 'serving set' she carried on her tray were
special 'suicide-proof' selections.  There were no utensils at
all - everything was finger food - something which Marie had
taken as a personal challenge to her powers in the kitchen. 
Lunch was a salsa-laced salad wrapped in a flour tortilla, soft
steak tacos and a rice and bean burrito. Beverages were delivered
in unbreakable sealed cups, much like the safety cups designed
for cars, but with no straws and no sharp edges.  Dessert was a
selection of fruit, cookies and cheese nibbles.

     Penny had taken to living in underwear since returning from
the salon.  With her hair now long, but unkempt, her face devoid
of any cosmetics and an obviously boy's body, she was not a
pretty sight. *Odd that I still think of her in the feminine
tense,* the petite brunette thought, *Guess I really am fully
indoctrinated into the 'Aunt Jane Method' as Michelle calls it. 
Penny's in panties so Penny's a girl. Simple as that.*

     'The girl' stared balefully at Victoria, hurt and anger
sparking in the dark-circled eyes. *Well, if Michelle is to be
believed, that is a positive sign.  At least she's not ignoring
me.* 

     "Luncheon is served, m'lady," Victoria said cheerfully.

     Penny did not immediately respond, but did get up off the
bed and come over to stand face-to-face with the other girl.  She
simply stared at the smaller girl; examining her with the focus
and detachment of an entomologist examining a particularly new
and rather disgusting dung beetle speciman.  It took the
cumulative grace and composure built by hours of Jane Thompson
exercises for the senior student to simply stand there and not
flinch under the tall girl's scrutiny.  Finally, even her
patience reached its limits.  

     "Its impolite to stare," she said quietly.

     Penny stared for a moment longer, just to show how little
Victoria's reproof had meant to her, before saying her first,
unforced words in over a week.  "You told that bitch you were a
boy."

     ~-----------~

     "ERICA," Michelle Nash called out from the surveillance
station hidden in Jane's private apartments, "JANE!".  The call
awoke the psychologist who was sleeping on a nearby cot, and
brought Jane hurrying in from the private office she kept in her
suite.  "I think it's show time," she said when the other two
arrived.  "Penny just more or less asked Victoria if she's a boy
or a girl."

     "Victoria knows what to say," Erica said quietly as she
slipped in beside Michelle.  "Let's just hope Penny is ready to
listen."

     "I still don't like this idea," Jane muttered as she, too,
took a seat in front of the desktop monitors.  "Even if it works,
there's no guarantee she'll do anything more than simply go
through the motions of 'doing the right thing'."

     "AT least she will be alive to go through the motions, Aunt
Jane," Erica said quietly. "Trust me, if she dies, we lose for
certain.  With these types of trauma, the only guarantee is that
you can't possibly win if the victim is no longer alive to be
helped." 

     "I want Benny to be happy!" Jane growled.

     "Easy, Momma-Jane," Michelle soothed.  "So do we, okay?" 

     "And if this grand scheme fails?" Jane demanded archly,
aware that she was being unreasonable but unable to help that
reaction.  Benny was one of HERS, by god. "I won't have him
institutionalized."

     
Erica stifled a sigh.  What did she expect from Aunt Jane? The
word 'quit' wasn't even in her dictionary. "He'll be more of a
danger - to himself - here than at the hospital.  Do you think
you'll be able to help him as much as they can? It will take
long-term, high-intensity treatment, by specialists. 

     "I'll bring them here." she retorted.

     Michelle put her hand on Jane's.  "Momma-Jane, you know
better than that. What about group therapy sessions?  That's a
major and effective tool - particularly with young people with
her. . .his problem.  Do you honestly think you could bring all
the other patients here, too?"

     "I'll turn the bloody manor into a center for young people
like Benny," she muttered, aware that she actually half-way meant
just that.

     "Shhhh!" Erica hissed.  "I have to be able to hear what's
said!"

     ~------------~

     "You told that bitch you were a boy."

     Victoria took a deep breath, set down the tray and mentally
told herself, *It's show-time, folks!* 

     "Did I?  I think what I said to her was something to the
effect that 'Are you going to tell them that I am really a boy
under this little disguise?'.  I never really said that I was a
boy."

     "Are. . . you. . . a boy?" Penny ground out each word.

     For a long moment, the shorter brunette only stared back at
the tall, nearly nude figure before her, then she shrugged. 
"Before I came here, my name was Victor, not Victoria."
   
"Are you here for something . . . something like. . like what I
did?  Is that why you're dressing and acting like that?"

     "More or less.  I was a bully - a real bastard who would go
hurt kids, little kids smaller than me, because I didn't have the
guts to go after the people who were actually messing with me."

     "Why the skirts then?"

     Victoria giggled nervously.  "Well, it's pretty hard to beat
somebody up in a skirt and not draw attention to yourself, if you
know what I mean.  Jane likes to say it makes me stop and think
before making a knee-jerk decision.  Kind of like what you tried
to do back in the hospital - make a real stupid decision that
doesn't solve the problem because you didn't think it through
completely."

     A vivid flush suffused Penny's face and torso at Victoria's
words, and.  "Janey died, you bitch, because of ME! Because of
the awful things I SAID to her, okay?" Penny snarled, emphasizing
each word by poking her index finger into Victoria's chest. 
"Don't tell me about stupid decisions.  I already KNOW!"

     Her own temper beginning to light, Victoria pushed her
little sister back a step with a double hand shove.  "Look,
Penny, what you did to this Janey was wrong, all right?  We can
all AGREE on that, but at the same damned time, I think she was
stupid to kill herself over it.  Besides, this is NOT about her. 
This is about YOU.  Why are you so damn selfish? 

     That question brought the taller girl up short and for a
moment, she gaped.  "Selfish? What the hell does that mean?  I
hate myself, but that has nothing to do with being selfish.  What
the hell do I have to be selfish about?"

     "Good question, but so far, everything you've said? It's
been all about you.  You're willing to do whatever it takes to be
the center of attention, to make others around you spend all
their damn time thinking about you.  You're so wrapped up in
yourself you don't give a shit what you're doing to those around
you." 

     "If I just died," Penny stormed back, really starting to
lose control now, 'Then no one would have to worry about me,
would they?  How is THAT selfish.  I am FREEING them."

     "Oh for shit's sake.  Are you really that stupid or are you
fucking working at it?  Hellooo!  You think Aunt Jane would just
throw a little dirt on your coffin and walk away? Cripes, Penny,
you've gotten to know her yourself in the past few weeks or so.
It would *kill* that lady if a student in her care offed himself. 
Maybe not physically, but something very important inside her
would die, and she for damn sure would never, ever forgive
herself. And a bunch of other kids like ME and yes, like YOU will
have lost their chance to crawl up out of the mess they are
making of their lives because she won't trust herself to help
another kid. And while we're at it, I met your parents, okay? You
think they feel the same way as Aunt Jane? Damn straight they do,
pal.  Hell, *you* feel the same way about Janey!  Don't try to
tell me that killing yourself wouldn't hurt anyone else because
we both know that's BULLshit!"

     Penny started to open her mouth, but the furious Victoria
cut her off before she could get a word in.  "And more than that,
you have a lot of life left ahead of you.  You could do a lot of
*good* out there, if you set your mind to it.  As far as I'm
concerned, if you have that capacity and don't use it, then you
are just as responsible for every kid in the future you could
have helped who kills himself, or starves to death, or gets
hooked on drugs, or just plain suffers through a miserable life,
as you are for that one girl in the past.   Get off your fuckin'
ass, girl, and TRY to add enough value to the world to make up
for whatever you've taken away.  You *owe* us, Penny!"

     "Oh, and just what the hell does being her wearing these
stupid dresses have to do with that supposed debt, what did you
say your name was?  Victor?"

     "Victoria will do right now, thank-you-very-much.  The
dresses have NOTHING to do with that as you damned well know,
Penny.  They're on the outside and Jane did that to help you - to
give you some emotional distance from the guy you thought you
were.  What you do for others you'll do because of something on
the inside.  Call it heart.  Call it guts.  Call it whatever the
hell you want, but call on it!  A friend of mine told me that
it's what's inside you that tells you to keep going when
everything outside tells you to quit. Don't quit, Penny. Don't
you EVER fucking quit! Start making things right for a change!"

     As quickly as it had flashed, the temper went out of the
taller student's eyes, and she slumped wearily into a nearby
chair.  "Janey's dead, damn you," she almost whimpered, "I can't
make that right."

     "Then dammit, make it BETTER," Victoria hissed intensely. 
"Make something, ANYTHING better than it is because you are here.
Start seeing OTHERS' needs instead of your wants for a change."
    
"You're awfully damned cold-blooded all of a sudden.  Aren't you
supposed to change my mind for me?" 

     Victoria tossed her head defiantly and shot a disgusted look
at her fellow student.  "How am I gonna do that?  It's your mind. 
You know that killing yourself is a fucking stupid thing to do. 
It's also fucking selfish.  I don't think you're that stupid, and
you've got no right to be that fucking selfish.  Oh, the hell
with it!  I tried." and with that, the furious brunette swept out
of the room.

     ~-----------~

     The three eavesdroppers watched in silent fascination as the
diminutive brunette went nose-to-chest with the tall boy-girl,
lashing out with words and emotions that seemed to charge the
very air.

     "Goodness," Jane finally managed.  "Was that my cowardly
bully in there?"

     "Bully, maybe," Michelle chuckled softly, "At least I'm sure
Penny thinks so, but cowardly?  Lord above, the only time she
could get nose-to-nose was when Penny sat down.  That's one tough
big sister you've got there, Momma-Jane."

     "I'll say.  Now. . " Whatever Erica was about to say was
interrupted by a wail of unmitigated anguish coming through the
speakers.  As one, Jane, Michelle and Erica turned back to the
monitors and saw Penny, seated in her chair, weeping.

     "That's it for now," Erica murmured. "Her adrenalin-rush
just petered out and she's crashing from the residual traces of
the sedatives we had to administer.  At least Victoria got
through the whole scenario before Penny hit the wall."

     "Thank god," Michelle breathed. 

     Erica sighed softly.  "Don't be too thankful yet, Mike,
because we don't know yet WHY she's crying.  But at least we know
that she wasn't unmoved by Victoria's little speech."

     "There's hope?" Jane asked as she prepared to go in to see
to her student.  Even now, she almost afraid to hope.

     "There's hope," the two doctors said in unison.

     "Michelle and I will start some one-on-one therapy sessions
with her just as soon as she regains some composure.  We'll know
more after we talk with her, but there is hope now.  Go take care
of your student, Jane.  The two of us will start when the
sedatives have completely worn off."

     Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     Chapter 23: A Time to be Reborn

     Victoria slipped out of Penny's room and then had to lean
against the corridor wall to keep from falling over. *God, I hope
I didn't mess that up! As soon as my legs work, I'll go find
Michelle and find out the worst.*

     "Victoria!" a concerned voice snapped out, "What is the
matter?  Are you all right?"

     Aunt Jane was suddenly at her side, supporting her senior
student's spent frame.  "I'm okay. . .just. . just a bit shaky,
is all.  That was dam. . awfully hard. . .umm. . difficult."

     "I know it was," Jane said warmly, "Michelle and Erica are
cautiously optimistic now. But you did it nonetheless, and you
did it superbly - with one exception."

     "Exception?" Victoria yelped, trying to pull herself to her
feet.  "I KNEW I messed something up.  What did I do?  How can I
fix it?"

     Jane felt the girl reel again and held her grip. "I'll tell
you after I see to Penny, but first, let's go find you a place to
sit down before you fall down.  I'll have Marie bring you a snack
while you wait."

     "O. . . okay, Aunt Jane."

     ~------------~

     Sitting on her bed, dressed in a cotton flannel nightgown,
Penny scratched her head as she stared at the still-blank journal
that pretty Doctor Nash had given her. She was supposed to
'reflect' on how she felt about the incident at the beauty parlor
so that she could then discuss it with Dr. Nash and the other
one, Dr. Davis.  

     One of the problems she was having with that task was that
she'd completely lost track of time.  There were a few very clear
memories - that awful Sandy woman, Victoria protecting her,
Victoria again, this time in Penny's room first admitting that
she was also a boy and then chewing her out for being SELFISH. 
The memories were just there, all jumbled together with no sense
of time to set them apart from one another.  It was like those
events happened one right after another, with no time between any
of them.

     Except that, according to Ms. Jane, the beauty parlor trip
had been four days ago, and the confrontation with Victoria had
been two days ago.  The wonders of modern medical science.

     The sound of a key rasping in her door lock had her setting
the journal aside.  She looked up just in time to gape in shock
at who entered.  "Victoria?" she asked.

     "Yes'm," the girl replied as she entered the room.
  
"What is THAT?!?!" Penny asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

     'That' was a full up, floor length, historically-accurate
Victorian housekeeper's dress done in traditional black
bombazine.  From wrist to throat to floor, Victoria was covered
in the heavy black material.  It was topped by a starched cotton
apron and with a white mobcap.

     "I'm being taught a needed lesson, Mum," Victoria said
shamefaced as she set the tea tray down on Penny's bedside table.

     "For what?"

     "Umm, well, Aunt Jane heard us yelling at each other - you
know - when I brought you that food two days ago?"

     "That's for YELLING at me?  Good heavens, Victoria, I yelled
at you first."

     Victoria blushed bright pink.  "She, ah, heard me use very
unladylike language, and she is using this to remind me that I am
always accountable for my behavior.  I am getting a crash course
in remedial ladylike behavior."

     "She hasn't punished me."

     "I wasn't impaired, and was therefore expected to keep
control of my tongue.  I'd be careful from now on, were I you.  I
don't think Jane would let you off now."

     "But, but why THAT?"

     Victoria giggled.  "Goodness, back then, you couldn't even
admit that a lady had 'legs' - they were 'limbs' instead.  That's
why they had to wear huge skirts that buried their . . . um,
maidenly virtue beneath yards and yards of heavy skirts.  The
ultimate in demure femininity, don't you think?"

     "You don't mind?"

     "Well, the corset and period underwear are a bitc. . .um,
are bothersome.  Marie took three more inches off my waist lacing
me up this morning so breathing is a challenge.  Not to mention
that the unmentionables, the starched pantilettes, wool stockings
and muslin chemise, ITCH and ladies do NOT scratch," Victoria
said with some asperity before giggling again.  "Sure does remind
me to act like a lady, though.  Kind of hard to forget, if you
know what I mean."

     "Hell yes, I mean, goodness, yes."

     "That's a freebie, Penny," Victoria told her seriously.
"Please try to curb that language.  If you start, I might forget
and get my time in this outfit extended.  At least it's not
August.  I couldn't handle this if it the weather was still hot."

     "Serves you right.  Lord knows I got the lecture on bad
language when I got here - and needed it.  I'm glad to see that
Miss Jane's and Miss VICTORIA'S standards apply to everyone."

     "I was sort of hoping you wouldn't remember that," Victoria
mumbled, blushing even more vividly.  "I don't suppose you could
just chalk this up as an opportunity to learn from someone else's
mistake?"

     "Okay. Umm, Victoria?"

     "Yes, Penny?"

     "Thank you.  For standing up for me with that Sandy person,
and. . " she took a deep breath, "And for telling me the truth as
you saw it the other day."

     "What are you going to do?"

     "Well, the first thing I'm going to do is go to the
bathroom.  No way I can drink any of that tea until I, ah, make
some room.  Wait for me?  I need to talk to you if you have
time."

     "Sure," Victoria smiled.  "According to Aunt Jane, I am your
maid for the time being, anyway."

     ~------------~

     Victoria was setting out the tea when a soft sound from the
bathroom caught her attention.  It was a sound she'd heard often
enough to recognize recently - it was the sound of someone
crying.

     Hurrying as quickly as her restrictive garb permitted, she
rushed to the door and knocked.  "Penny? Are you all right?  May
I come in?"  The last question was for form, because none of the
doors in a student's room could be locked.

     The door opened and a red-eyed Penny stood there, looking
forlorn.  Victoria went to her and embraced the taller girl,
letting her cry.

     ~-----------~

     "MIKE? Get ready to go in there," Erica Davis ordered.  "We
may have a situation here.  Penny just broke down and I have no
idea why!"

     Michelle pulled on her white lab coat and moved to get a
good look at the monitor.  "What happened?"

     "Victoria went in there in Jane's punishment gown.  They
talked about it and then Penny went to the bathroom.  Next thing
I know, Victoria is pounding on the bathroom door, it opens and
Penny's a basket case again."

     "You think she's reacting to Victoria's discipline?"

     "I have no idea, pal.  I didn't see anything that would have
indicated that before she went to the head."

     "Okay," Michelle donned a ear-plug radio.  "I'm wired.  I'll
be outside her door, ready to go in when you give the word."

     "I'll call Jane," Erica said, reaching for the intercom
switch.

     ~--------------~

     "It. . .it just struck me, you know?  I saw myself in the
mirror."

     "And?"

     "I'm so . . . so ugly.  I thought of . . of the things I
said to Janey, and how they fit me so much better than they ever
fit her."

     "Umm, I suspect, Penny, that after what happened, if you
were to tell Jane that you can't handle being Penny, she'd let
you go back to Benny.  The transformation to Penny was something
to help you deal with your memories, not make them harder for
you.  You want me to go get you some jeans and a t-shirt until we
can talk this out with Jane?" *Thank you, Michelle, for
anticipating something like this.  Fortunately, a complete 'boy'
wardrobe in Benny's sizes is just down the hallway.*

     "NO!" Penny sobbed out before muffling her next words in
Victoria's apron-covered shoulders.  "Ms. Thompson was. . was
right. I. . .I need to understand what Janey went through, if I
can, so that I can do what you said - help others like she wasn't
helped.  But it's going to be so hard looking like. . . like I
do."

     Victoria let her eyes go closed in momentary relief, then
patted the still-sobbing girl on her back.  "Hey, you think I was
always this beautiful?" she teased.  "You just haven't had the
advantage of several months of, ah, intensive training by Jane
Thompson and Tante Marie.  Heavens, you've been here only a
couple of weeks.  Want me to show you some tricks?  I'm pretty
good with hair and makeup, although not nearly in Marie's class."

     "With what?" Penny asked, gesturing at the empty vanity
table where once just about every cosmetic known to woman had
once resided.

     "Oh, I can go get some stuff - if you're up for it.  Heck, I
could see if Tante Marie is free.  She's been really worried
about you, too."

     "Okay.  If you don't think she'd mind."

     "Just wait.  I'll be right back."

     ~-------------~

     Jane watched as Victoria hurried out of the room and Penny
went to stand in front of the vanity.  She picked up the intercom
and dialed the kitchen.  "Marie? Victoria has gotten Penny to
agree to a dress-up session.  She needs you up there right away.
Make her shine, okay?  She's seeing her dead friend whenever she
looks at herself in the mirror.  Thanks."  She put the phone back
in the cradle and sighed.  "Now what?" she asked Erica.

     "We watch and wait.  It's all we can do."

     ~-----------~

     Victoria, Jane and Marie sat on the bed and watched as Penny
examined herself in the mirror.  Her hair was up in a simple
ponytail, but had been brushed to a lustrous chestnut and teased
into fullness.  Marie's cosmetic artistry had added depth and a
hint of mystery to the eyes that were Penny's best facial
feature, had filled out the thin-lipped mouth and had highlighted
her pale cheeks with just a touch of color.  Jane had personally
wielded the razor on her student's face while a cream depilatory
had smoothed out the long legs.  Faux nails with a shell-pink
enamel brought an unexpected elegance to her slim hands. The
simple pastel blue dress showed off her slim figure to
perfection.

     *She's not truly pretty,* Jane thought objectively, *but
she's slender enough, her face is . . .interesting with a clear
complexion, and those legs will draw the eye provided we play
them up well.  More than enough, I think, for us to work with. 
She'll do, and quite nicely, in fact.  Now, if we can just get
her to see that.*

     "You look GREAT, Penny." Victoria cheered.

     "You're much prettier," the flat voiced replied.

     "And so she is," Jane said briskly.  "But she has
advantages, both natural and trained, that you don't.  The former
is luck,"

     "Bad luck, if you ask me," Victoria put in pertly and
earning a shy smile from Penny.

     "Which no one did, Miss," Jane said sternly, at the same
time surreptitiously squeezing Victoria's arm approvingly, "And
you will wear that so-very-ladylike outfit for another two days
for interrupting me. As I said, Penny, our Victoria has natural
gifts that make the masquerade easier for her, but the skills to
make the most of what you have are things she knows and you have
yet to learn.  She is right, however, you do look very nice right
now.  Don't you agree?"

     "I'm very tall," Penny protested.

     "So are super-models," Jane replied.  "Understand this,
Penny.  I've done this with boys in the past, and very few of
them turned out as pretty as this one.  As for you, you're not as
attractive as some, more attractive than many.  You'll carry this
off easily enough if you give it your full attention and effort. 
Looks are only a small part of being perceived as a woman when in
public.  Manners, mannerisms and attitude are far more important
than mere looks."

     "And you think I can do it?"

     "I know you can do it, if that is what you want."

     "It was part of our deal, wasn't it?"

     "Yes, it was, but I am not going to hold you to that deal. 
Sandy's behavior endangered you, even though that was not her
intent.  I think you've made a transition since then.  I believe
that I can help you whether you are Penny or Benny.  That said,
it would be better if you came to those training and learning
experiences I plan for you without reservations.  If you have
reservations about continuing to live as Penny, as a result of
your experiences at the Marisha Chalet, then let's discuss them."

     "And if I say I can't handle this - being Penny - anymore?"

     "If you say that, and mean that, then you will be Benny
again within the hour, and we will structure your program for
that contingency."

     "Which do you think would be. . .I don't know, better?  More
effective?"

     Jane smiled sadly.  "I can't answer that, my dear.  I have
preferences, but only you can decide how you really feel.  You
are very different from the other boys I have done this program
with, and therefore, what made my program effective with them may
not apply with you.  If you fight me every step of the way, that
helps neither of us."

     "I see.  When do I have to decide?"

     "Not right away.  Dr Nash and Dr Davis want to work with you
a bit more, first.  You should probably discuss this with them
before reaching any decisions.

     "What about that beauty parlor?  And that Sandy woman?"

     Jane shrugged.  "Not much point taking Benny there, is
there?  As for Penny? Well, we'll play that by ear, but I doubt
there's much there for you to learn now.  If that is the only
reason not to be Penny, and if there are reasons for you to be
Penny, then we won't go to the Chalet.  This is about helping
you, Penny.  As for Sandra?  I understand that Dr. Nash has told
you her reasons for her behavior.  Be that as it may, she's no
longer a part of my program." And there was an awful finality to
Jane's voice.  "Now, you must excuse me as I have some calls to
make.  If you need me, Victoria will know where to find me."

     "I must prepare dinner," Marie said, and rose to follow
Jane.

     "Well, I know you used your deodorant," Victoria said
snippily.  "I guess mine must be wearing off the way those two
cleared out of here."

     "Just as well," Penny said, yawning.  "I'm suddenly very
tired."

     Victoria was up in a flash. "Oh, I'm sorry. Here, let me
help you out of those things so you can lay down."

     Minutes later, Penny came out of the bathroom, again in her
nightgown, with her face cleansed of Marie's makeup.  She saw
that the bed had been turned down and that all the makeup was
again on the mobile cart that Victoria had wheeled into her room
a couple of hours earlier.

     The senior student saw her little sister's pensive look and
blushed.  "I'm sorry, Penny, but Jane said that I had to take
them back until. . well, until. . "

     "I understand, Victoria," Penny said solemnly.  "Until she
is more certain of my commitment to atone for what I did.  That's
fine."

     ~------------~

     Erica watched as the two girls said their goodbyes.  She was
encouraged when Penny specifically made the effort to clasp hands
with Victoria before getting into her bed.  It was the first
gesture of what might be affection she had seen her patient offer
another.  Things were looking up.

     ~-----------~

     Victoria closed Penny's door behind her and carefully
checked the hall.  Once she was certain she was alone, she looked
at the thing Penny had covertly pressed into her hand.

     It was a wadded up piece of paper - a note.  Quickly, she
smoothed out the paper and scanned the message.  Then she
groaned.

     ~---------~

     "Dr. Davis?" Victoria called from the door.  "May I speak
with you, please?"

     "Sure, Vic.  C'mon in.  What's up?"

     "You know Jane told me to do whatever was necessary for
Penny's recovery?"

     "Yes, I do.  So?"

     "So this," the girl said, holding out a badly wrinkled sheet
of paper.  "Penny palmed that to me just as I left.  In it, she
asks me not to tell Jane.  Now I am well and truly stuck."

     Erica read the note, and carefully considered the
possibilities.  "Keep faith with Aunt Jane or with your little
sister, eh?"

     "That's about it.  I can't see how to do both."

     "Let me talk to Michelle and see what she thinks.  Then I'll
get back to you, okay?  If it becomes necessary to bring Jane
into this, I will do it, and make sure that Penny understands
that it was my doing, not yours.  That it was a medical decision
all the way, which in fact, is precisely what it is in this
case."

     "Thanks, Dr. Davis."

     "Erica, dear, at least, when we're alone.  After all, I'm
just another of Jane's boys, too."

     Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     Chapter 24: A Time to Heal

     Victoria knocked on Penny's door and waited to be invited
inside before turning the key that undid the special lock.  "Hi,"
she said as she slipped inside.

     Penny looked up from the book she was reading and almost
smiled.  "Free at last, free at last?"

     The shorter brunette pirouetted, showing off the modern
skirt and sweater set she wore.  "I won't finish that quote as
Aunt Jane might overhear me and decide I was being flippant."

     "Flippant? You?" Penny asked, her dark eyes wide with
overstated disbelief.

     "I know - it boggles the mind, doesn't it?" Victoria said,
laughing.  "I just can't imagine how Aunt Jane comes by those
unfair opinions about me, but I'm not too excited about giving
her any further ammunition right how.  Those wool stockings were
about to drive me IN-SANE!"

     "At least they were wool stockings and not wool panties,"
Penny offered, all solicitude.

     "Was that a tease, Penny?" Victoria demanded, her right brow
cocked.

     The girl's sudden blush was her only answer, but Victoria
made a mental note to pass that along to Aunt Jane and the
doctors later.  "Well, if you're going to be mean, I won't tell
you the good news!"

     "Good news?"

     "Yes, good news," she teased, only to become increasingly
frustrated when Penny didn't say anything more. "You're supposed
to beg, darnit!" Victoria whined, exaggerating a foot-stamp.

     "Oh, sorry. Please tell me the good news, Victoria," Penny
said, without much inflection. "Pretty please?"

     "Oh pooh.  You're no fun.  The good news is that Jane said
we could go for a walk outside today.  If you want, that is."

     "That would be very nice," the taller girl said softly. 
"When?"

     "Now?"

     "Yes, please."

     "Well," Victoria gave her little sister a quick once over. 
The rose and cream dress was simple in design, but showed nicely
on Penny's long frame. *Skirt's a bit short for Seasons House,
but I suspect Jane has her reasons.* "Nice outfit, Penny, but
those strappy heels are not suited for going walk-about. Go run a
brush through your hair and freshen your lipstick, girl, while I
raid your closet for decent walking shoes. Then we'll blow this
joint.  At least until dinner.  Tante Marie is making pot roast
tonight!"

     ~-----------~

     "It's really pretty out here," Penny said later as they
walked around behind the stable.  "All the fall colors."

     "There's a really good place over here," Victoria said,
pointing the way to a small copse of trees.  

     Penny, as she had done since the beginning of her time with
Jane, allowed herself to be led where others told her to go.  The
pair went off the shell-lined trail and crossed the autumn-dry
grass and into the small stand of trees.

     Whereupon Penny stopped short, unable to hide her surprise.
"Hello, Penny," the figure seated on the marble bench said. 
"Victoria told me you wanted to see me," Sandra Kash said
quietly.

     "I. . .I didn't think you'd come, actually," the tall girl
said, still staring.  

     Sandra stood up to greet the two girls, her rounded figure
poured into a pair of skin-tight jeans with a loose, cowl-neck
sweater on top.  Her short blonde curls were squashed under a
decrepit Boston Red Sox ball cap and her eyes were hidden behind
a pair of mirrored sunglasses.  She shrugged.  "I don't know what
you want to say to me, Penny, but I fuc . . messed up badly with
you.  I know that, and if telling me to go to hell or worse gives
you closure, then that's what I want you to do."

     "That's not it," Penny said, averting her eyes. "Telling
someone else to join me in hell does not have any real appeal to
me."

     "Then, what do you want?  Why ask Victoria to sneak me in
here behind Jane's back.  It's no skin off my nose if Jane
catches me here - I'm already on her shit list, but Victoria took
a helluva risk contacting me and an even bigger one getting you
out here."

     "I want the truth, please," she replied, a touch of steel
ringing in her voice.

     "I won't lie to you," Sandy said evenly as she slipped off
her sunglasses to reveal tear-reddened eyes.  "If I don't think I
can answer a question, because it involves someone else - another
of Jane's students - I will tell you that, but I won't tell you
any lies."

     Penny considered that, sneaking furtive looks at the woman
out of the corner of her eyes. *She looks like she's ready to
bolt,* Victoria thought, and moved to support her little sister
so she felt, rather than saw when Penny took a deep breath and
turned to face Sandy directly.

     "Why?" she asked in a harsh, gritty whisper.  "What reason
could you have for treating me like that?  For. . .for saying
those things to me the way you did."

     Sandy's eyes went closed and she turned her back to the two
girls for several seconds before, without warning, spinning back
around. Penny jumped backward in fear, only to be stopped by
Victoria.  "Sorry," the blonde stylist surprised both girls by
saying.  "I didn't mean to spook you.  It's just that I decided
that if I'm going to say this, I won't take the easy way out. 
I'm going to face you, person to person, when I tell you what you
want to know."

     "O. . okay."

     "The answer, Penny, is that there isn't a good reason, not
in 20/20 hindsight.  Guess there rarely is a good reason for
something that stupid. What happened, I guess, is that I was too
damn sure of myself, too arrogant for my own or your own good."

     "I don't understand what you mean."

     Sandy gave the two girls a self-deprecating smile.  "I don't
suppose you do.  Look, Caro tells me Jane has explained what she
does here, right? Normally, anyway? What she does with boys like
Victoria, right?"  Penny nodded.  "Okay, she needs the boys to be
afraid - usually, anyway.  Afraid of giving themselves away. 
She's very careful to make sure that doesn't ever actually
happen, but the boys can't be allowed to see her taking care of
that.  My function in all this is two-fold.  First, I am very
good at my craft.  I could take Hulk Hogan and make him passable
as a girl, if not actually attractive."

     "Who's that?" Victoria chirped in drawing a exaggerated look
of disdain from Sandy.

     "You're not THAT young, Missy," Sandy chided the smaller
girl.  "However, to continue? As good as Jane and Marie are at
this game, I'm that much better, so they bring their boys to me
for the big transformations once they're mostly passable.  Okay?"

     "I can understand that, but that doesn't explain. . . all
those horrible things. . ."

     "I said I served two functions in Jane's program.  It's my
job to  threaten them with that exposure they fear, and I'm
damned good at that, too.  I make them believe that they are two
seconds away from it at all times - even though they're not. 
Hell, when you were in my chair, the only people in the shop
already were in on the game.  You were never in any danger.  Same
with the other boys."

     "But, I wasn't there to be controlled. I was there to learn
about . . .about how Janey felt."

     "I know that now," Sandy said, her eyes again closed against
her  pain, "I knew that then.  I thought, what the hell, it
bothers Jane's other boys to be told they're cute, and I'm not
supposed to bother this one that way.  So I told you how ugly you
were, even though that was a lie.  I figured that would, I don't
know, make you less upset. Where I made my mistake was going on
automatic, not listening to what you were really saying, not
seeing how you were really reacting, and I went way too far. I
sincerely apologize for that."

     The tall girl said nothing for several moments.  "I see,"
she finally said before going on in a flat, unemotional voice,
"You are forgiven.  I accept your apology."

     Now it was Sandy's turn to gape in surprise and she looked
to Victoria who shrugged uncertainly.  "Well, umm, thank you,
Penny."

     An uncomfortable silence ensued, during which none of them
so much as moved. Sandy gave a weak laugh.  "So, what are you
going to do now, Penny?  Will we be seeing Benny again soon?"

     "I beg your pardon, Ms. Kash?"

     "Call me Sandy.  Ms. Kash is my Mom.  The question is will
you be going back to being Benny soon?  Jane also told Caro that
she was thinking of letting you out of the skirts.  Try something
else.  In fact, she said that it will be your decision after the
fiasco at the salon.  Have you made your decision?" she asked
again and then went on before Penny could answer. "Of course you
have.  Don't know any boy of Jane's who wouldn't jump at the
chance to be out of her skirts and petticoats."

     "Why do you want to know?"

     Suddenly, something broke inside the normally acerbic blonde
and tears began coursing down Sandy's cheeks.  "Because I don't
want my mistake to drive your decision.  Look, I know it sounds
strange and maybe even unnatural, but dammit, what Jane does with
her boys here at Seasons House works! Regardless of how I
behaved, or what you think of me as a person, I want you to have
the best chance possible. You and Jane will make that decision,
but I don't want my fuc. . screwup to mess up your thinking. 
Look, if going to the salon as Penny and having to face me there
is going to be a deal killer with Jane? I promise that I will
make sure I am not even in the shop whenever Jane brings you in,
okay?  I'll be sick or out shopping or out of town - anywhere but
where you are.  You have my word."

     "Why?"

     "Huh?" the blonde asked.  "Why what?"

     "Why make that kind of offer?  It's your shop and besides,
if I understand how Ms. Thompson operates, there can't be that
many other shops she can safely use for that kind of thing."

     Sandy snorted at that.  "There isn't ANY other shop she can
safely use - at least not in the first few weeks when the boy
doesn't have the act and the look down pat.  As to why I'd offer
to make myself scarce?  Because I want the best for you and that
is whatever Jane can come up with to help you. She's that damned
good at what SHE does! Look, I can be, and often am a bitch.  I'm
certainly not the nicest person in the world, but until you, the
stuff I do for Jane has been the one part of my life where I
actually, really help people.  That's why I do it.  I'm the bogey
woman and I admit that I DO enjoy that part of it.  I LIKE being
the witch that Mothers and Aunt Jane use to put the fear of god
in their kids."

     "Sure did with me," Victoria murmured, thinking that a bit
of distraction was called for.

     "'course I did," Sandy smiled with something approaching her
usual mein. "Penny, one of the boys once told me that I am. .
.was the 'big gun' in Jane's program.  I'll admit to getting off
on it when the boys almost pee their panties in my salon chair
when I get in their face and they KNOW that *I* know, okay?  But
the reason I'm PROUD of what I do is because it helps turn kids
around.  I can't be proud of what I did to you and the only way
to make that right is by doing whatever it takes to keep you
working with Jane.  IF that means dropping out of the picture,
then I am gone. Simple as that, end of statement.  I really,
really am sorry, Benny."

     The girl straightened, and for the first time, she looked
Sandy directly in the eye.  "It's Penny," she corrected the older
woman, "And I'd rather you stayed.  I mean, if I have to suffer
this to atone for what I did, why should I let you get off that
easily?  Penance is supposed to be good for the soul."

     "You mean that?  Really?"

     "I don't lie either.  Tell me, Ms. .um, Sandy.  Are you
really as good as you said you are?  That's not just tooting your
own horn, is it?"

     Offended, Sandy growled, "If anything, girl, I was being
unduly modest."

     "Very out of character for her, too, Sis," Victoria put in,
"but there is no doubt that Sandy is the best hair and face-glop
artist in the area."

     "In the state, Missy, maybe in all of New England!" Sandy
corrected, grinning.

     "Then I need to talk to Ms. Thompson.  I am going to need
all the help I can get." 

     "If you're serious, Penny," Sandy said in much gentler
tones. "You're not now, and never will be classically pretty. 
Certainly not like this little hussy, but all the same?  On those
few moments while we've been here, when you forgot to quite so
self conscious? You've got this, I don't know, aura of sad
dignity about you that is, well, very appealing.  If you were a
real girl, every chivalrous male within ten miles would be
clamoring to slay your dragons for you - even some not-so-
chivalrous males.  I can help you build on that."

     "I'm not interested in having men 'clamoring' for me," Penny
retorted stiffly.

     Victoria saw an 'old Sandy' grin flash momentarily before
Sandy could bring it fully under control. "I didn't say you would
be, but I can make you look good enough that men will *think*
you're an attractive girl.  That's what you were asking, wasn't
it?"

     "I guess it was," the girl murmured.  "How. . . unsettling."

     "Be careful what you wish for, sis," Victoria put in, still
trying to lighten the mood.  "Sandy might just see that you get
it."

     "Whatever I can do, Penny," Sandy assured her.  

     Penny only nodded before turning back to Victoria.  "I'm
starting to feel really tired," she said quietly.  "I think I may
have overdone."

     "Let's go back to the house, then.  Marie will have my guts
for garters if you get sick over this.  See you later, Sandy."

     ~------------~

     Sandy slipped the sunglasses back on as she watched the two
girls disappear behind the stable on their way up to the main
house.  At the sound of leaves crackling underfoot behind her,
she turned to face the figure that stepped out of the shadows. 
"Good job, Sandy," Michelle Nash said.  "I think we made points
today."

     "You think she can talk Jane into letting me back into the
program?" Sandy asked, wistfully.

     "If she can't, I will.  You won't screw up like this again,
and you are an asset.  Like you said, you're the best at both
roles."

     "Benny or Penny?"

     "Right now I think it's pretty clear she'll stay as Penny. 
Probably for the best, too, although Erica isn't really sure. The
eminent Dr. Davis doesn't like the fact that Penny's in martyr
mode - taking the worst of everything because she deserves it in
her mind, like atonement. She'll convince herself that being
Penny is the tougher penance."

     "Isn't she?"

     "Erica doesn't think so.  Benny's the one she has to face
eventually because Benny is the one she blames for Janey's
suicide.  Right now, she's not strong enough to face that.  Our
mission is to keep her around until she is strong enough."

     "By around, you mean alive, don't you?"

     Michelle only nodded.

     Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     Chapter 25: A Time to Grow

     Vignette: MiLady's Closet - The Private Viewing Room

     "But, Vic-key," only audible separation in the two syllables
indicated how truly unnerved the tall student was.  "She's a REAL
girl!"

     Victoria smiled gently at her friend. Penny was standing
just inside the dressing room with only her head sticking out and
the door curtain draped protectively around her long, lean frame.
*She looks like an actress in an old slapstick movie - right
after her clothes got stolen.  The outraged comedic heroine
except she's not feeling very funny right now so wipe that grin
off your face, Denato!*

     "It's NOT funny, Denato!" Penny fumed, echoing her big
sister's own admonishment.

     "I know, I know, and I'm sorry, but what did you expect in a
women's clothing and lingerie store, Penny?  Male attendants?"

     "But, but, she'll SEE, Victoria, that I'm. . "

     "None of that," Victoria cut in sharply.  "What she has SEEN
is what she has said - that you are a very tall girl with great
legs and good bones, if a bit broad in the shoulders.  That
swimmer-cover-story Jane came up with is working well, isn't it?

     "Don't change the subject, Victoria."

     "There isn't any problem unless you make one, Penny.  She's
already accepted you as a girl.  Just go with it and I'll be here
to distract her is she starts poking around where she shouldn't."

     "Who's going to distract ME?" the wide-eyed teen demanded.

     "From what?"

     "Not what, you ditz, who.  From HER! In case you haven't
noticed, she is, well, really cute! And. . . and well, things are
getting a bit. . .hard for me."

     Without thinking, Victoria's eyes dropped down and then
snapped up and felt her face go hot.  "Oh, well, it isn't, uh,
showing."

     "Only because this curtain material is heavy duty stuff,
Victoria.  My panties aren't.  And I didn't know we were coming
here so I'm not wearing the gaff."

     "Dam. . ummm. . darn.  Okay.  I'll be right back."

     ~--------~

     "I don't know why you think you need that silly panty
girdle, Penny," Sally, Brenda Franson's shop girl commented. 
"It's not like you have a poochy tummy or a saggy bottom.

     Penny momentarily glared at Victoria's reflection in the
mirror before smiling down at Sally.  "It nips me in just a bit
and makes me look like I have a figure," she managed in an airy
tone.  "I'm just a little self-conscious about being quite so. .
.umm. . .flat.  At least the long line smooths things out for me
so I don't look quite so bony and hard."

     "I suppose.  Personally, I love the athletic-girl look. 
Someday, after you graduate from Ms. Thompson's finishing school,
come back here and I put you in some clothes that will REALLY
make you shine."

     "Gee, thanks, Sally.  Sounds like fun."

     ~---------~

     "Once she got over having knicker-fits at having been caught
without her gaff, she settled down and carried it off with no
trouble," Victoria reported to Jane.  "Very poised; good
presentation and deportment, too."

     "The girdle idea was well done of you, and she won't forget
her appliance in the future," Jane smiled.  "So, she found the
pretty Sally attractive, in a . . . physical sense?"

     "AUNT JANE!" Victoria squawked.

     "Well, did she?"

     "I thought nice girls didn't talk about such things!"
Victoria sniffed.

     "Victoria, you have learned the arts of being a girl about
as well as any student I've ever taught save one or two, but let
me tell you a little secret I have not shared with any other
student."

     "Yes, Aunt Jane?"

     "Nice girls DO talk about such things.  What makes them NICE
girls is not getting caught DOING such things."

     "Oh?"

     "Oh," Jane said definitively.  "Now, answer the question."

     "Let's just say that I think Tante Marie is going to have to
change Penny's bed linens after tonight."

     "Ah.  Excellent.  I will have to make sure that Sally is
always there when I bring Penny in for future fittings.  It is
too bad I do not know the girl well enough to bring her in on the
masquerade.  She could do a great deal for Penny if she were
briefed and willing."

     "If you did and Penny found out, she'd freak, Aunt Jane.  It
was bad enough when she remembered that Brenda knew.  It's a good
thing Brenda went easy on her."

     "Brenda has good sense.  Do you think our Penny enjoyed the
experience today at all?"

     "Unrequited lust is hard on a guy, even if he's a girl, Aunt
Jane."

     "That's not what I meant, and you know it, young lady."

     Victoria giggled at her little victory, then became serious.
"As much as she lets herself enjoy anything.  I think that is why
she picked Sandy as her stylist - she wanted to atone for having
too much of a good time at the dress store."

     "Did Sandra step over the line again?" Jane's voice was ice
cold and hard.  She'd been reticent to allow Sandy to resume her
duties, but when both Michael and Penny had approached her, she'd
relented.

     "Not really, at least for Sandy.  She gave Penny about the
same ration of grief as she always gives me when I'm in her
chair, and she knows I'm onto her.  It wasn't all that bad and
besides, Caro was keeping an ear on her."

     "Is that the way it is always going to be with this child?"
Jane asked rhetorically.  "Bad to balance every good?  Every
pleasure to be followed by some self-inflicted symbolic
flagellation?"

     "She is no longer determined to kill herself, Aunt Jane. 
You have time, now."

     "You're right, of course, but it is just so hard sometimes,
especially when I see what she does to herself."

     ~---------~

     Vignette: The Kingston Country Club - The Ladies Club Room. 

     "Sit up straight, girl," Edith White ordered.  "If you're
going to have all those inches, sit up and have them counted. 
Just because Victoria is a pocket venus is no reason to hunch
over. Just draws more attention to what you aren't and she is."

     "Yes, Ma'am." Penny murmured.

     "So, Victoria is about to finish her time with you, Jane,
and you're proposing this one as her replacement?"

     "Just so, Edith," Jane said as she lifted her tea cup to her
lips.  "Victoria is going to a boarding school where she will rub
elbows with others of . . .our class and acquire a finer social
polish. An enrolled student at the school had to drop out -
illness or some such thing - and we couldn't turn down the
opportunity when my dear friend called to offer us the slot."

     "Looking forward to it, are you, gel?" Edith inquired. "I
loved my time at boarding school.  Was a prefect, too, don't you
know."

     "Were you really, Ms. White?" Victoria gushed.  "Oh, I think
that sounds ever so interesting.  Do you have to be perfect to be
a prefect?"

     "I'm sure Edith will be happy to talk to you about it later,
dear," Jane interrupted her mischievous student smoothly. "but we
have business to attend to after this little tete-a-tete.  As I
was saying, Edith, Victoria has to leave us shortly after the
holidays, but I knew how you were counting on her helping out
with the upcoming telethon, and did not want to leave you short
handed. So, when Penny volunteered. . "

     "Penny?  PENNY?," the old woman's eyes bulged at the
offending student with affronted dignity.  "What type of name is
that for a well-brought-up young woman of our class? Jane? Why-
ever do you tolerate such. . .such informality? Why don't you
call her Penelope? Young people these days, not having the
courtesy to use their real given names."

     "My name IS Penny, Ma'am," Penny put in with what Jane
thought admirable sang froid, "Not Penelope.  My. . . Mother,"
and Edith missed the quick look Penny shot Jane, "named me
Penny."

     "Named you Penny? NAMED you PENNY?!? Unbelievable. Should
have named you Penelope - that's the correct name - it's in
Homer's Odyssey, you know.  No Pennies in Homer's Odyssey.  I
don't suppose you'd mind being called Penelope at the telethon? 
Much more dignified. Will sound better on television, as well."

     Jane watched her oh-so-submissive junior student seem to
grow taller before her eyes. *Eyes straight, shoulders back,
heavens, if the child was any more dignified, she'd be running
for Parliament, and she's not even British.*

     "Penelope is not my name; Penny is, Ma'am.  It would be
disrespectful of me not to honor my Mother's naming of me."

     "Just so," Jane repeated.

     Disappointment and annoyance, the former due to her failure
to cow this upstart young female and the latter due to Jane's
failure to support what Edith thought was a perfectly reasonable
requirement, warred on the old woman's face.  "Oh, very well.  At
least I won't have to worry about you flirting with the male
contributors like I did with this one!" she offered in what
passed for humor in the humorless old biddy. 

     "Just so," Jane said, her voice going cold as she stood up. 
"Well, we must be going, Edith.  I have to take Victoria and
Penny shopping.  I will have Penny at the PBS station by seven
p.m. next Saturday for the required training.  Say good bye,
girls."

     "Good bye, Ms. White," Penny and Victoria said in childlike
unison.

     They were outside at the car when Jane said another word. 
Penny wasn't sure what she has said, but it has sounded
remarkably like 'bitch'. 

     ~-----------~

     It was all Victoria could do not to howl with laughter as
she recounted their afternoon tea for Marie's benefit.  "I
thought she was going to call for a judge right then and there,
and demand Penny's name be legally changed to what SHE considered
appropriate."

     "Oh heavens," Marie choked.  "I can just hear her with those
clipped, Brahman accents, telling Penny her name isn't dignified. 
How did Penny handle it?"

     "As if listening to a senile old fool pontificate on proper
naming was the most normal thing in the world," Jane answered
evenly. "She never spilled a drop of tea, or spread crumbs."

     "She even ate one of those horrid, dry scones the club
serves without so much as flinching," Victoria finished.

     "High marks for deportment, eh, Jane?" Marie asked, her eyes
twinkling.

     "True enough, Marie, and Penny has proven her willingness to
do whatever she's asked to my satisfaction over the past two
months. I agree she's ready to be a big sister.  I called Judge
Ruth just an hour ago, telling her we'll be ready for our next
student shortly."

     "What do Michael and Eric think of that plan?"  Marie asked.

     "Don't tell me you haven't asked them," Jane teased.  "They
think she'll be fine.  She's ready to be the responsible one. 
And just maybe, if she's concentrating on someone else's needs,
she'll let her guard down enough to find a little joy in her life
again."

     "So, does that mean we call for the breakdown crew on this
one?" Marie asked.

     "Breakdown?!?  I'm fine, thank you very much," Victoria
protested. "I am not broken."

     "Non, petite, you misunderstand.  Breakdown is Jane's word
for turning you back into a young man."

     "It might be useful for Victor to have a couple of weeks in
boys clothing before heading to Saint Andrews Academy.  You need
to relearn to swing your shoulders instead of your hips when you
walk, you hussy," Jane said in a creditable imitation of Edith
White.  "All right.  Invite the Beales to dinner tomorrow night,
Marie.  Tell Carolyn to bring her Breakdown Kit."

     "How about Sandy, Aunt Jane?"

     "You want Sandy?" Jane asked, her tone suddenly cooler.

     "She did help me, Aunt Jane, and she did apologize to
Penny."

     "I know," Jane sighed.  "Please invite Sandy as well, Marie.
No, wait, on second thought, I will invite her.  She might not
come if the invitation does not come directly from me."

     "Thank you, Aunt Jane."

     Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

     Chapter 26: A Time to Reap, A Time to Sow

     The winds of January howled their fury, blowing snow across
the Kingston train platform.  Four figures huddled together,
backs to the wind, awaiting the train.

     "I still say you should let me drive you up there, Victor,"
Jane said.  "It would only take a day.

     "Unless it snowed and you got stuck up there, which the
weather report says is likely.  I'd rather have you here and know
you're safe, Aunt Jane," Victor shouted to be heard above the
wind.  "besides, you need the time to finish up preparations for
the arrival of Pretty Penny's little sister.  Last I heard, she
was supposed to be here day after tomorrow unless the snow stops
train travel.  You need to be here."

     "Don't try to confuse my emotions with logic, young man. I
am having a "mother with a chick leaving the nest" moment here."

     "Yes, Ma'am."

     Victor Denato took a lingering look about the wind-blown
station house and it's quaint New England setting.  For all the
cold and snow, it no longer had the feeling of dread about it
that he'd sensed on arriving here so many months ago.  As it had
for so many young men before him, Jane Thompson's Seasons House
had become a second home for him, and she had become like a
second Mother.  Marie was the loving and doting aunt he'd never
known before coming to this place, while Penny had become the
sibling he'd never had.

     At the thought of Penny, Victor smiled.  She'd come a long
way in the last three months, he thought as he gave her a
thoughtful inspection.  She just stood there, straight and
determined, as if the sub-zero chill factor did not exist for
her. *Heck, even Jane is shivering, but Penny just stands there
unmoved and unmoving.*

     Her deportment was now excellent as were all her skills and
mannerisms.  The only problem she faced on a daily basis was her
beard.  Naturally dark haired, Penny's beard had started to
become something of a nuisance.  Five o'clock shadow on a sixteen
year old girl is a bit of a giveaway in terms of the Jane
Thompson masquerade.  The answer had come in the form of a
special bleaching depilatory designed for facial use.  Victor had
tried it once, and had felt like his face was being scorched
although it had not left behind any marks or rash.  Still, it was
one more facet of her new life in which Penny truly did suffer
for her looks and thus worked to atone for Janey's death. 

     *Please help her forgive herself and learn to laugh again,*
Victor prayed silently.

     The lonely wail of a far off train whistle called to them
through the snow. "Now, I expect you to apply yourself to your
studies, young man," Jane said firmly.  "This will be a tough
semester for you, but if you do as well as I expect you'll do, I
am sure that I can arrange for you to be accepted into the pre-
veterinary program at Brown this coming fall."

     "I'll do my very best, Aunt Jane," the young man said as the
train chugged up to the platform.  "God, I'm gonna miss you all
so much!" he rasped, even as he reached out to pull all three
women into his arms.

     For several not-nearly-long enough moments, they stood
there, sharing a warmth far deeper than merely physical.

     "BOOOARRRDDD!!!" the conductor called, intruding on their
connection.

     "I have to go," Victor said finally.

     He went to Marie and hugged her close.  "Send cookies!" he
begged shamelessly before turning to Penny.  

     With an ease that pleased Jane greatly, Victor put a
brotherly arm about Penny's shoulders, and pulled her close.
"Each one, teach one, sis," he quoted softly.  "Help Jane make it
better for your little sister.  It will be tough on you both, but
I know you can do it.  You got heart, Penny."

     "Thank you for being here for me," Penny whispered as she
hugged herself close to him and rested her head on top of his.

     *Mutt and Jephinia,* Jane thought as she watched the quiet
farewells. *And yet, there is no doubt which of them IS the big
sister. . . or brother.*

     His arm still securely about Penny's back, Victor turned to
smile up at his beloved teachers.  "Aunt Jane, if you ever need
any help - mine or Victoria's - with some other menace to society
like this big stringbean, just let me know, okay?  Like the song
says, just call out either of my names and you know that I'll be
there."  

     "Thank you, sweetheart.  That means a very great deal to
me," Jane said, feeling the prickle of wet heat behind her
eyelids.

     Victor grinned and then hugged Penny again.  "I wouldn't
have missed knowing you for the world and all that's in it." 

     "I'll miss you, big sister," Penny whispered shyly.

     "So will we, Victor," Jane said, getting her hug in as they
walked up to the train car.

     "Ummm, Aunt Jane?"

     "Yes, dear?"

     "It won't bother me if you slip up and call me Victoria, you
know - in fact, I'd kind of miss it if you didn't."

     "Really?"

     "Really.  If Captain Wilma can handle it, so can I. 
Besides, Victoria's me and I'm she, if you know what I mean.  I
don't want to leave her behind with her skirts and petti's."

     Jane smiled, a bit tearfully, and nodded.  "Call often,
Victor/Victoria."

     The train left the station slowly, and the three women were
able to keep up with Victor's window by walking until they
finally ran out of platform.  They stood there, on the edge of
the concrete platform, simply watching, until the train had
rolled out of sight.

     Finally, Jane sighed.  "Well, ladies?  Shall we go celebrate
Victor's graduation and Penny's promotion?  Dinner at the club, I
think.  Tomorrow is soon enough to finish the preparations for
Jesse's arrival, don't you think, Marie?  Penny?"  Both women
nodded their agreement.  Jane put a hand on the elbow of her two
companions and began to walk back to the train station parking
lot.

     And tonight, she promised herself, she would fully savor the
ceremonial entry of Victor Denato's name into the 'success'
column of Jane Thompson's Rogues' Gallery of Seasons House.