My Summer as a Girl

[Alana]

When I stood and faced him, I got the shock of my life. I was face to face with Mr. Johnson! Tom's father!

I panicked. I had to get away from him! If he recognized me, he'd not only tell my mother where I was, he'd tell the whole office I was a boy! I couldn't imagine what all those men would do when they found out they'd been flirting with a boy in a dress!

I turned and moved away from him quickly, standing next to the counter, facing away from him, doing anything I could to keep him from seeing my face. He came up behind me and stood close to me. He towered over me. He held me by my shoulders, wanting to know if I was the new girl. He had no idea how new. He said he'd heard about me, wanted to know if he was really that hideous that he made a pretty young girl run at the sight of him.

Mr. Johnson was a widower, very good looking, and was known to be quite the ladies' man. I had no place to run, so if he was going to flirt with me, about all I could do was flirt back and hope he didn't recognize me. And I had plenty of practice when it came to flirting with men.

He didn't wait for me to turn, but took me by the shoulders and slowly spun me around to face him, my full skirt flaring about as I turned. I smiled.

"My name's Joanie," I said.

"And where are you running off to, pretty Joanie?"

"I was just a little shy about meeting the owner of the agency, is all. I was almost certain I had a run in my nylons."

Just to make him crazy, I went over to a chair and put up a leg, pretending to examine my pantyhose for runs.
   

[Alana]

"Do you see any runs?"

"No, I don't."

I sat down, and said, "So, what you're saying is that my legs look OK?"

I playfully tugged my skirt back just a little, so he could see.
   

[Alana]

"Your legs look incredibly sexy, Joanie, just like you. I see you already know who I am."

"I've seen your picture, Mr. Johnson."

"Wayne, please."

He put out a hand, which I grasped gently. Even his handshake was flirty. I must say, he didn't sound terribly bereaved by the fact that his son had run away.

It struck me that he might be useful in getting what I wanted. I was confident, by this time, in my ability to get nearly anything I wanted out of a man if I flirted hard enough. As a teenage boy I was powerless, but put me in a dress and pantyhose, lipstick and high heels, and I could promote just about anything for myself.

I was pretty. And I knew it.
   

[Alana]

"So, Mr. Johnson---Wayne. I guess you're my boss's boss, aren't you?"
   

[Alana]

"I guess I am."

I stood and showed off the dress I was wearing.

"Do you see anything wrong with my dress, Wayne?"
   

[Alana]

"It's a beautiful dress. It would look wonderful by candlelight, in a nice romantic restaurant."

"Can you believe Mrs. Henderson doesn't want me to wear it? She says it's too sheer."

"It is pretty sheer. I can see your underwear."

"Is that something to complain about?"

"Not from where I'm standing. You look very sexy."

"Mrs. Henderson has done nothing but complain about what I'm wearing, from the moment I got here. And I'm a good secretary. I'm a hard worker. But all she does is complain. Just a few days ago, she was complaining my skirt was too short." I stood closer to him, and said, "You wouldn't complain about a thing like that, would you? If I were yours?"

"Absolutely not."

"So how about having a talk with her, Wayne? For me?"

"I don't like to get involved in these kind of disputes in the office."

"Oh, well, I can understand if you're afraid of her. I'm afraid of her too, sometimes."

"Don't be silly."

I stepped closer to him, and played with his tie a little.

"You're the one being silly," I said. "Don't you want your employees to be happy? Don't you want a happy, productive workforce? This is my favorite dress. Wouldn't it be a shame if I didn't get to wear my favorite dress to work, any more?" I pouted.

"OK, I can see I'm not going to get out of this. Let's go."

We went into Mrs. Henderson's office, and he said, "Gladys, I understand you've been giving your secretary some grief about what she's wearing."

She looked up from what she was working on. She seemed a little put out, but she said, "All I ask for is proper business attire."

"And is there something improper about what she's wearing?"

"Do you think it's proper to walk around showing everyone your underwear? How about if the salesmen shuffle around the office with their pants around their ankles? Would that be OK?"

"Gladys, I don't want to argue about this," he said, and how sweet it was to hear those words directed to someone else for a change. "Is Joanie a good worker?"

"She's an excellent worker."

"Does she make many mistakes?"

"She's near perfect."

"Then I think she should be allowed to wear whatever she wants."

Mrs. Henderson looked from one to the other of us a few times, then shrugged her shoulders.

"OK, I'd say we're done here," he said. He turned and left, and I followed him.

I hugged him, and said, "Thank you! Thank you!"

"You're welcome. Now, how about having dinner with me?"

"Oh, no, I can't, Mr. Johnson. Wayne. I have a boyfriend. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Joanie, you're breaking my heart! Well, if you ever wise up and dump this loser, call me." He gave me a business card. Not having any pockets in my dress, I stuck it into my cleavage.

I thanked him again, then turned and headed back to my cubicle.

"I hate to see you go," he said, "but I love to watch you leave."

"You are so sweet!" I gushed.
   

[Alana]

And he was, too. His son could've used a little more of his charm.

Before I reached my cubicle, she called me in.

"I guess you're proud of yourself?" she said.

"I guess I am. How about you? Are you proud you made me have to do that, by micromanaging my skirts?"

"Joanie, if you'd rather be Mr. Johnson's secretary it can be arranged, and let me tell you, it's no picnic. I've heard stories about him chasing secretaries around the desk, and shoving them up against a file cabinet with his hand up their skirt."

"You keep telling me about that, but I've never seen it happen. When's it going to happen to me?"

"Be careful what you wish for, Joanie. Men don't do anything for free. By that business card sticking out of your bra, I can see he's already asked you out. Did you say yes?"

Not at all embarrassed, I shook my head no and took the card out of my cleavage, holding it casually in my hand.

"Is there anything else? I actually have some work today, for a change."

"You're dismissed," she said haughtily.

On my way back I crossed paths with Karen, a secretary who favored buttoned-up, Victorian-style blouses and long, shapeless, loose-fitting skirts in rather dull colors.

"Hi, Joanie. Wow, that's a beautiful dress you're wearing! And it's so sheer! I can see your slip!"

"I've heard."

"Don't you feel naked in that dress?"

"No. Mostly I just feel beautiful. And feminine."

"I wish I could wear something like that to work."

"Who says you can't?"

"Oh, I could never bring myself to wear that. It's not the way I was raised. Women would never dress like that in my family."

"Well, I have to admit, my mother wore dresses like this one to work all the time. But believe it or not, there was a time when I would never have even thought of wearing a dress. I used to wear nothing but pants."

"Really? I've never seen you in pants. I didn't know you owned any."

"I don't; not any more."

"So, what changed?"

"Well, one day I just put on a clingy dress, and people started to treat me differently. I didn't like it at first, but I warmed up to it. How about you? How about wearing a short skirt to work, for a change? Time to let those calves out of the barn."

"Oh no, I couldn't! I'm not beautiful and well-endowed, like you."

"Oh, I'm not that well endowed. I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm not even THIS well endowed. It wasn't that long ago, I was flat as a board."

"Wow. So, you had the operation?"

"No, not yet. These are just loaners. But I intend to have the operation, someday. I firmly believe you must become who you really are, in this world."

"Become who you really are," she whispered, awestruck. "Thank you, Joanie. Thank you."

She continued on her way. I'd like to say I had some effect on her, but she remained buttoned-up and Victorian to the very last day I ever saw her.

After that, I got to wear whatever dress I wanted. The next day I wore one of my Mom's floral dresses that buttoned up the front. I casually kept it unbuttoned down near the hem of my skirt. I sat there taking dictation that day, my legs crossed and my slip peeking out just a little bit, daring Mrs. Henderson to say something. I was timid and apprehensive, like someone poking a lion, but she never objected.