Pink Panties

[billykins]

1.
Conor and Archie went up to big school together.  They had been friends since they were five - they lived within a quarter of a mile of each other - and they knew by this time they were going to be friends for life.  But because of the rules about “catchment” areas, then unfortunately few of their mates from junior school went with them.  And immediately they began to get into bad company.
Conor’s mother was worried.
“Myra” – (Myra was Archie’s mum) – “Myra, we need to do something.  If we allow this to go on, imagine what they’ll be like after a year.   Last night, when Conor couldn’t find his notebook, he was swearing and blinding like a west Dublin dustman!  Up to a few weeks ago, he’d never even said a swear that I can remember.  I’m worried half to death!”
“Brigit, that’s not fair!  You know I’m from west Dublin…  The dustmen I knew were quite polite, as a matter of fact…”
“I’m sorry, Myra.  You know I didn’t mean to libel your Dublin.  Or the poor dustmen.  But the swearing’s only the half of it.  He’s been hanging out with those tough kids from year two.  I saw him with a whole pack of ‘em and your Archie lounging around outside McDonald’s Tuesday evening, spitting on the pavement.”
“I know, Brigit.  I agree.  But what can we do?  Boys…  We don’t have no leverage over them.  They’ll do what they do, and that’s it, darling.”
Brigit sat pondering for a moment.  “You know, Myra, I always wanted Conor to take up the Irish dancing, like Erin.  She’s been doing it now for…let me see, she’s thirteen now, so that’s six years.  She’s so dedicated.  When she’s up for a competition she thinks of nothing else.  But he refused flat out.”
“I remember.  Even when we said the two of them could go together, and we’d increase their pocket money.  But that was a year or so ago.  Can you imagine what they’d say if we suggested it now?”  She gave a hollow laugh.
“True.  Imagine what sort of incentive we’d have to offer them!”
“A couple of those sports bikes they’re always on about.”
“Gaming computers.”
“A couple of weeks in Las Vegas!”
Brigit was suddenly silent.
“What is it, babe?”
“You know what?  Uncle Michael – my brother in law.”
“What about him?”
“You know he lives in Texas now.  Works for some hotshot electronics firm.  Got a place right out in the sticks.  Into target shooting and all that sort of stuff.”
“Yeah?”
“Well last year he offered to have Conor over there for a holiday, but he didn’t want to leave his friends.  And he was younger.  Now…  I bet he'd jump at the chance.”
“He would – all those guns and things…”
“I wonder if Michael would let him take a friend?”
“You could ask…”
“And then…”
“Then, if they really wanted to go, we could impose a few conditions…”
“Like, for instance, they take up the Irish dancing…”
“And go twice a week without fail…”
“Or the holiday’s off.”
They looked at each other.
“Do you think they’d go for it?” asked Myra.
“They might…  I could ask Michael if they could go over at Christmas.  He might agree.  He’s very laid back about things.”
“Has he got kids?”
“Yes.  A boy and a girl.  Boy’s about thirteen, I think.  Girl a couple of years younger.  His wife’s pretty cool.  They have horses too…   She rides, and I think she does archery…”
“God, it sounds perfect…”
“’Twould be heaven for the boys, I should think.  I’ll drop him a line tonight.  See what he says…”

[billykins]

2.
Brigit wrote to Michael just before she went to bed.  In Texas, Michael had just got home from work, and had sat down to check his emails.  He replied at once.
“Hi Brigit!  Great to hear from you!  Of course!  Send them over!  We’d love to have them here.  They can stay for as long as they like.  We’ve got loads of pace, and the kids have their own little log cabin near the house, with bunks and a barbecue.  We let them stay out there.  They love it, and it gives me and Dora a bit of peace.  They can shoot, and ride, and Bobbie and Phelan will show them woodcraft and how to track animals in the woods.  They can experience a real American Christmas and Thanksgiving.  But how are you and David?  It’s been a while…” etc. etc.
Brigit video-called him at once, and they had a long chat.  They pencilled in a date after the end of school, but Brigit made one qualification.
“Michael dear, I have to explain one thing.  Conor and his friend have not been the best behaved lately.  So me and Myra want to make this conditional on…on their improving their conduct.  I won’t go into the details, but let’s keep this between ourselves – I mean, don’t tell your kids yet – just in case it doesn’t work out.  Yeah?”
“Sure, Brigit.  I hope it’s nothing too serious…”
“Not really.  But they’re going a bit wild, and we want to nip it in the bid, that’s all…”

After speaking to Michael, she rang Myra.
“It’s on.  No problem.  He’d love to have them.”
“So what now?”
“Let’s get them together tomorrow after school and test the waters.”
“Okay.  Come to mine.  Pat’s not home till late, and Sinead’s staying over with one of her friends.”
“Great.  Tell Archie there’s something very important we have to discuss.  I’ll do the same with Conor.”
“Hope they’re not planning something with those year two boys…”
“Too bad.  We’ll tell them if they don’t show they’ll be grounded for a week.”

[billykins]

3.
So it was that at four the next day Brigit and Myra sat smugly in Myra’s lounge sipping coffee and waiting for the boys to show.
“Taking their time, aren’t they?”
“Demonstrating their independence.  Cheeky little sods.  Behaving like sixteen-year-olds.”
“Yeah.  Or six-year-olds – depending how you look at it.”
“Shh – here they are.”
The front door opened, there was a murmur of voices, and a moment later in trooped the two miscreants - looking uniformly disgruntled.
“Hi guys,” said Myra, breezily.  “How are you?  How was school?”
Archie grunted, as he usually did when his mother asked him a question.  Conor, as he was addressing a friend’s mother, assumed enough politeness at least to offer a reply.
“Okay.  Same as usual.  Boring teachers, pointless lessons.  Mum?  What do you want to talk to us about?  We were supposed to be meeting our mates down the burger bar.”
“Yes, that right,” added Archie.  “We can still make it, too, if you stop wasting time and tell us what you want.”
Brigit looked at Myra, as if to say, “shall I?”  And receiving only a wry look in return, she embarked upon the proposition.
“All right.  We’ll get to the point.  Sit down there.”  She indicated the sofa.  Sulkily, they threw themselves down side by side.
“First of all, we don’t think much of “your mates”, as you call them  They’re older than you, and frankly they’re a bunch of layabouts, what I’ve seen of them.  No, Conor, I’m speaking.  Remain quiet for once.  Now, we have an idea.  You’re not going to like it, but there’s another side to everything.”  She took a breath.  “We want you to start Irish dancing lessons.”
The boys stared.  Archie’s mouth fell open.  Conor’s face contorted with anger.
“Mum?  Are you fuc-king…?”  He was about to say “serious”, but his mother cut him off.
“Conor!  Don’t you dare swear at me – at us!  If I tell your father your feet won’t touch the ground.  You’ll be shut in your bedroom every night for a week!”
Conor realised he had made a mistake.
“Sorry, mum…it just sort of slipped out…”
“It’s slipping out a bit too often, lately, my boy.  Hardly surprising, seeing you’re spending your time with a bunch of louts.”
“But…they’re my friends…”
“Nonsense!  Friends don’t behave like that – corrupting kids younger than themselves.”
“Corrupting?” began Archie, with a sneer.  How old do you think we are?”
“Eleven, at the last count,” laughed Myra.  “Not even teenagers.  And mentally?   I don’t know….six, maybe?”
“Shut up, mum!”
“So what about the lessons?”
“You suggested that last year.  We’re not going to Irish dancing.  Your sister does that, don’t she Conor?  It’s for girls.  No way.  That’s an end of it.  C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
They rose, and were heading for the door.
“We’re not finished,” said Brigit, quietly.
“Well we are, mum,” replied Conor.
“Okay.  Well, if you don’t want to hear about Texas…”
Conor stopped dead.  “What about Texas?”
“Nothing.  I can see you’re not interested.”
“No, you’ve gotta tell me now.  Now you’ve said it.”
Archie was looking puzzled.
“My uncle lives in Texas, Archie.  He’s got a ranch an’ everything!”
“Really?  You never told me…”
“No, cos…I dunno.   Mum, what about it?”
“You sure you want to know?  Leave if you have to meet your mates…”
“Shut up and tell me!”
He grabbed Archie and pulled him down onto the sofa again.
“Uncle Michael has invited you both to stay for Christmas.  Two or three weeks.  You’d live in a log cabin separate from the grown-ups.  That’s all.  We were considering if we could afford it, but as you don’t seem to be prepared to co-operate…”
“Mum!  We will!  Won’t we Archie?”
“Er, will we…?”
“You don’t understand!  There’s horses and forests and bears…and guns!  He’s got loads of guns!”
“Guns?  What, air rifles?”
“No, you idiot, real guns!  Automatics, and AKs and stuff!”
“No shit!  Like, real guns!”
“But if you’re not prepared to change your lifestyles a bit,” said Myra, “I’m afraid…well, we’re not prepared to make the effort to scrape up your airfares.”
“Mum, look, we’ll just hang out with each other from now on,” began Archie, sitting up very straight and trying to look serious and committed.
“Yeah,” continued Conor.  “I don’t want to see those other guys any more anyway.  We never really liked them, did we Archie?”
“Nah.  Bunch of f…, I mean posers.  We don’t need them.”
“Wait till we tell them…”
“Oh.  You’re going to tell them you’re starting Irish dancing?  That’s nice, Conor.  I’m sure they’ll be jealous…”
“Mum,” he whined, “please…don’t make us do that…”
“We’re not going to make you do anything,” smiled Myra.  “It’s totally up to you.  Conor, your sister enjoys it.  And so does Archie's cousin - doesn’t he, Archie?”
“Yeah…   Sean…  He does, all right…”
“And is he a wimp?”
“No.  That’s true, Conor.  He’s a jiu-jitsu brown belt, too.  Once there were these three blokes what tried to beat him up, and…”
“All right.  Tell Conor later, dear.  Now, what’s it going to be?”
“How long would we be going for…?”
“Oh, I don’t know.  Brigit?”
“We could manage three weeks, I guess.  Think what a nice peaceful Christmas we’d have, Myra!”
“Three weeks!”  Conor’s eyes gleamed.  “Right.  We’ll do it.  Won’t we, Archie?”
“Yeah.  We’ll do it!”
“Two sessions a week plus any extra ones for competitions.”
“C-competitions?”
“Yes.  And a minimum of six months.”
“Six months?”
“Take it or leave it.”
The boys looked at each other, then back at their mothers.  “We’ll take it,” they said in unison.

[billykins]

4.
The classes were run by a Mrs Daly.  They took place in a side-room of the town hall.  There were two two-hour sessions on Tuesdays and Thursdays starting at four o’clock, and another on Saturday mornings for advanced students and rehearsals – and also for those who Mrs Daly considered not to be working hard enough.  Brigit had assumed there would always be room in her classes for more children, but there proved to be a minor complication.  She called into the town hall the following Saturday morning, and found Mrs Daly preparing for the session.
“Hello.  Mrs Daly, isn’t it?  I’m Brigit Nolan.  I was wondering if you’d be able to take on a couple of new recruits.  They’re starting rather late, I’m afraid, but I’m sure their enthusiasm will make up for their inexperience.”  (She said this with her fingers crossed behind her back.)
“How old are they?”
“They’re eleven.”
“Oh, that’s all right.  I find girls of that age very quick to learn.”
“Well, actually they’re boys…”
“Boys?  I’m sorry, you’ll need to see my daughter.  We got so overwhelmed last year that we formed a separate class for the boys, especially as there’s fewer mixed team competitions these days.  She’ll be glad to take them.”
“Oh, great.  So where…?”
“She works from Stemforth.  Do you know the village hall?”
“Stemforth?  Oh, no, we’re right on the east of town, near the river.  That would be a terrible long way to go.  What time does she start?”
“Same as me.  Four.  No, I can see it would be difficult for you to get them there in time.  I’m so sorry.”

Brigit left the town hall with a frown on her face.  Now what were they going to do?  She rang Myra.
“She only takes girls.  The boys’ classes are in Stemforth.  What are we going to do?”
“You shouldn’t have told her they were boys,” joked Myra.
“I’m not giving up.  There must be somewhere else.  I’m going back.”
She turned and headed back.  It was ten minutes to four.
“Oh, hello.  Back again?”
“Mrs Daly.  Look, I’ve promised the boys they can start Irish dancing.  Do you know of anywhere else we could find classes – or even just a teacher – in the neighbourhood?”
“I’m really sorry, I don’t.  They could always come as girls, I suppose,” she laughed.
“Could they?”
“Come as girls?  Are you serious?”
Brigit compressed her lips.
“You are, aren’t you?  Well, I’ve never been asked this one before, I must say.  And I’ve been asked a few weird things in my time.”
“Is it possible?”
“Well, I mean to say…   If they come as girls, and wear the girls’ costume…   I mean, I could hardly object.  It would be terribly sexist, wouldn’t it?  But do you think they’d…?”
“Agree?  I think they might.  How do we go about getting the costumes?”
“Well, I always have a stock of second-hand ones.  They’re very expensive new.  I’m sure we could fit up two eleven-year-old boys.  Actually, it would be quite fun.  A bit of a challenge.  My girls are very agile.  They might have difficulty keeping up at first.  But I’d give them extra tuition.”
“Right.  Thank you so much, Mrs Daly.”
“Bernadette, please.  I do hope you’re able to persuade them.  The girls would be so excited!”
“I’m going to do my best.  May I ring you tomorrow?”
“Of course.  Here, my number’s on this flyer.  Look forward to hearing from you.”

Once outside, Brigit rang Myra again.
“It’s on.  All we have to do is to convince them to dress as girls.”
“Oh, that shouldn’t be a problem, Brigit.  Have you gone completely mad?”
“Probably.  We need a plan. Urgently.”

[billykins]

5.
Brigit and Myra racked their brains, but neither could see any chance of corralling the boys into girls’ dancing outfits.  They discussed everything from extra treats to gentle persuasion to blackmail; and they would have used blackmail if they had had the means.
“I think we’re beaten,” said Myra.  “I know they’re not going to stand for it.”
“Even with the prospect of Christmas in Texas?”
“It may be a close-run thing, but even with that…”
Brigit snorted.  “I’m going to give Michael a call. Maybe he has an idea.”
She opened her laptop.  A minute later there was Michael’s big, happy, rosy face smiling at her.
“Hey, Brigit!  What’s happening?  You look…like you found a roach in your coffee…”
“A what?  No, Michael.  We have a problem.  Me and my friend Myra.  Myra?  Say hello to my brother-in-law.”
“Hi Michael.  Nice to meet you.”
“You too.  You’re Conor’s friend’s mum, right?”
“Archie.  Yeah.  Brigit will explain.”
“Michael.  Yeah, I need to level with you.  The boys have been, well, out of control recently.  Ever since they changed schools.  We dreamt up this plan, where we’d send them to Irish dancing classes and they’d have a holiday in Texas with you as a reward.  They’d agreed and everything…”
“They had?”
“Well come on – can you imagine what it would mean to them?  But now suddenly we have a problem.  The only available class is girls only.  Except…”
“Except?”
“Except the teacher will accept them if they present as girls.  Michael?  Michael, are you there?”
Michael eventually resurfaced, choking and very red in the face.
“Oh, that’s priceless!” he gasped, between guffaws.  “Dora!  Dora!  Wait till you hear this.”
There was a muffled conversation, terminating in screams of female laughter.  Brigit sighed.
“Michael.  Michael!  What’s going on?  We’re out of ideas.  Maybe I could get them to call you and you could hype it up a bit more.”
“Wait a minute.  Dora has an idea…   Great…Yeah that would work…Hold on, darling…  Ask him, then.  Just give me a moment, Brigit…”
He disappeared again.  When he returned he was smiling.
“Right.  Get them to call me.  We’ll make a time.  This is it, see?  First off, we’ve got quad bikes.  That should get their attention.  But second, Phelan here – show your face, Phelan – Phelan here is a bit of a drag artist, in’t you boy?”
A rather pretty face appeared at the edge of the screen, surmounted by a mass of blond curls.
“Hi Auntie Brigit.  Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.  I’ll talk to them.”  Then it disappeared equally spontaneously.
“Y’know, Brigit, Phelan’s school has regular competition days when all the boys dress up as girls.  Phelan’s won two first prizes.  Add to that, Bobbie’s just got a new Irish dancing outfit, which is a bit big for her as yet.  But Phelan could get into it.  And he’s gonna spin them such a yarn…”
“Really?  Do you think he can…?”
“If he can’t, no-one can.  Now let’s make that appointment, shall we?”

[dolly bo peep]

billikins,

I like they way your story is going.

A number of years ago I was attending a tech vendor show at a fairground where there was an Irish dancing festival in a different building. The walk from the parking to the tech show brought me past the back of the dance theater and several troupes of girl dancers, all in different colors.

I like the look of those cute Irish dancers and would love to dress up as one, with the proper curly wig and makeup.

Will our lads agree to be dancing lasses?

[billykins]

6.
It was arranged the call would be made that Saturday, when everyone would be off school.  To allow for the time difference, it was scheduled for five in the evening UK time.  That would also give the mothers time to confront their sons with the bad news.
To prepare the ground, Brigit told Conor that his cousin wanted to talk to him about Christmas.  This generated much excitement.  The two hadn’t met for three years, and naturally Conor, two years the younger of the two, was rather enamoured of his American cousin.  Indeed, he would often casually mention the relationship as an unfailing way of exciting interest and envy amongst his friends.  Archie and Myra were invited round, and an afternoon feast was prepared.  The boys were in heaven, the slight detail of their contract temporarily forgotten.
At about four, Brigit decided it was time.
“Boys?  Myra and I have arranged your classes.  Tuesday and Thursday after school, and possibly a session on Saturday morning.  They’re in the town hall.  A very nice lady called Mrs Daly runs them.  She’s looking forward to meeting you very much.”
Archie screwed up his face, and Conor  stuck a finger up his nostril, by way of expressing their distaste at the less exciting side of the bargain.
“There’s just one…er, technicality, that we have to tell you about, boys,” added Myra, with a glance at her friend.  “Now, at present – unfortunately – Mrs Daly’s class is all girls…”
The boys, who had been digging into bowls of chocolate ice cream, stopped eating simultaneously.  Their eyes widened and they stared at Myra.
“Er, yes, as I say.  But she’s generously agreed to take you anyway…  She such a nice lady, and technically she’s stretching the rules, of course, just for you, and…”
“The thing is, boys,” interrupted Brigit, taking the plunge, “you’re going to have to fit in with the class, which will mean wearing costumes, as it were, in the style of the girls.  But really it won’t make any difference.  Now, the classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays begin at four.  So…”
“What?” said Conor, reddening.  “Say that again.  We’re gonna have to wear girls’ outfits?  Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well they’re not that different…”
“Not that different?  Not that different?” cried Archie.  “We looked on the internet, Mrs Nolan.  They have short skirts and white socks…”
“… and big curly wigs,” added Conor.  “An’ they kick up their skirts an’ show their panties!”
“Well, not always…” murmured Myra, unconvincingly.  “Surely big boys like you wouldn’t be embarrassed by such a little thing.  I mean, it’s the dancing that counts.  Your sister, Conor…”
“Don’t bring her into it.  If she was a boy, she wouldn’t dress up as a girl, would she?”
The others looked at him for a couple of seconds, trying to grasp this gem of logic.
“Okay.  It’s off then,” said Archie, swallowing the last spoonful of ice cream and dropping his spoon into the empty dish.  “Right, Conor?”
“Right.”
There was an awkward silence – suddenly broken by a beeping from Brigit’s laptop, open on the table.
“That’ll be Michael,” said Brigit, relieved.  “Let’s have a chat anyway, even if you guys won’t be going after all.”

The screen blinked into life.  But it wasn’t Michael.  It was Phelan and Bobbie, side by side.  Brigit pushed the laptop in front of the boys, and indicated to Myra they should retire into the kitchen to do the washing up.
“Hey, guys!  How you doin’?  Is that Archie with you, Conor?”
“Yeah,” said Conor, disconsolately.
“Hi Archie!  I’m Phelan.  This is Bobbie.”
“Hi!” squeaked Bobbie, who seemed unable to stop giggling.
“So you guys are coming over at Christmas.  I can’t wait to see you, Conor.  It’s been three years!  You’re gonna love this place.  Did your mom tell you we’ve just got quad bikes?  And dad’s made us a track.  It goes round the house and in and out of the trees.  It’s so cool.  Dangerous too, if you go too fast.”
“Quad bikes?” gasped Conor, eyes gleaming.
“How fast do they go?” asked Archie.
“Fast enough.  Bobbie’s not allowed on them yet – are you squirrel-face?”
“I’m not squirrel-face!” screamed Bobbie.
The boys laughed, apparently having forgotten all about the “technicality” that would inevitably prevent them from going to Texas.
“And you’ll get to shoot this!” added Phelan, producing from nowhere a heavy automatic pistol.
The boys goggled.
“Is that…?”
“Yeah.  Course.  The real thing.  My dad collects guns, see.  Mainly old ones, but new ones too.”
“Is it…loaded?” asked Conor, spellbound.
“No.  The only time they can be loaded is when we’re on the range.”
“The range?”
“The shooting-range.  We shoot targets and bottles and things.  It’s the best.”
“Wow….”
“Hey, Phelan.  What are you wearing?  That’s not…?”
“Oh, yeah…  My Irish dancing outfit.”
“My…” began Bobbie.
“Shut up, squirrel face.”
“I’m not…”
“Yeah.  Cos I heard you’re starting classes.  I’ve been doing it since I was ten.  It’s great.”
“Go back a bit,” said Conor.  “Show us…”
Phelan retreated from the screen.  As he did so there came into view an intricately-decorated outfit with a skirt!
“Isn’t that…a girl’s one?” asked Conor, nonplussed.
“Not really.  Over here everyone wears these.  It’s like with Scots dancing, everyone wears kilts.  It’s not a gender thing.”
“Really?”
“Course.  Didn’t you know?”
“Oh, yeah, we did know…just like Scottish dancing, course.”
“Listen guys.  I have to go.  My dad wants me to round up the horses.  Let’s talk again soon.  I can’t wait to see you guys.  We’re gonna have some amazing fun…”

As the screen returned to blankness, Conor and Archie looked at each other.
“Quad bikes!” said Archie.
“Did you see that gun?  If you fired that it would knock you over.”
“Yeah.  That would be great!”
There was a short silence, as they both collected their thoughts.
“Maybe…  I mean, what’s a bit of dancing, when…”
“When there’s all that…”
“Can you imagine…?”
“We can tell everyone all about it when we get back…”
“We’ll have pictures…”
“Videos…”
“And then maybe we can go again in the summer.  If we save up…”
“fuc-k, yeah.  We’re going then, right?
“Right!”