A Woman's Will

"Did he look normal - you know - down there?"

"Definitely," Willow said but sounded shaken.

"There have been rumors flying for years," Shirley explained.

"Was he circumcised?" Stephanie asked. "I've heard they always make a foreskin so the oddity of the head doesn't show."

"It's too much trouble to make a fake foreskin," Shirley contradicted.

Both women looked at Willow who sputtered, "I, um, think it was circumcised."

"Proves nothing," Stephanie insisted. "Was it as small as everyone says?"

"What do you mean?"

"How do you think he got his nickname?"

In response to Willow's bewildered expression, the two other women said, "Smalley," in unison.

"I don't think it's too small," Willow mumbled.

"He didn't have an erection - did he?" Stephanie asked.

"N-no."

"You can only tell when they're hard," Stephanie remarked.

Shirley downed another shot and refilled Stephanie's glass. "So, what's it like being a man?"

Willow clutched her half-full glass to her chest. "I think some of the guests flirted with me."

Shirley looked to Stephanie, who nodded.

"You still walk like a girl," Shirley said.

"I am a girl."

"You better not be, at least until I find a wig that will work. I tell you what, if you remain Will for a week, I'll give you this." Shirley opened a drawer and displayed a tag bearing the name "Willow."

"Are you taking bets?" Stephanie challenged.

"As long you stay away from members, it'll work," Shirley assured Willow.

The next few days passed without incident. Willow's four-to-six hour evening shifts barely paid enough to cover her share of the rent, so she volunteered to work every day, trying to make the best of it.

Denim bumped into her a few times and grunted, "Dude." Willow panicked when a bus boy named Kevin flirted with her, but afterward, she decided he must be gay. He glanced at her crotch and called her "big boy." She felt complimented in a crazy way.

At home, Willow stooped under a scalding shower spray with her eyes closed and compared the only two men she had ever seen naked. Dr. MacMillan appeared to be in his mid-fifties, pudgy, hairy, and more scary than arousing. Smalley looked much younger, half the weight, smooth, and lust-inspiring. No man outside of fantasy ever inspired Willow's lust until she spied Smalley.

A loud banging on the bathroom door startled the young woman from her contemplation. "Willow! Your boss is on the phone and says it's urgent."

"Just a sec. Hand it in." Willow stepped out of the shower and accepted the phone on its long cord.

"This is Willow."

"Get dressed. I'll be there in twenty minutes. Mr. Gauss wants to meet Will."

"What happened?"

"I can't talk. Be ready."

Willow wrapped a towel around herself and handed the phone back to its owner who asked, "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Willow sighed. She remembered Shirley worrying about police involvement if the charade failed. "They're probably going to fire me or arrest me or something."

"Arrest you? What did you do?"

"I went into the men's locker room."

"What? By mistake?"

"No," Willow confessed, "I did it on purpose."

"What are you going to do?"

"It'll be a relief. You have no idea how stressed I've been lately."

"We wondered. We hardly see you anymore. Are you going to be OK?"

"Yeah. I'll call you from jail if I need bail."

"Oh Willow, you should have told us."

"They won't call the cops. Shirley has as much or more riding on this as me. She'll fire me and then hush it up, and I'll beg for my old job selling clothes as soon as I get back."

Shirley claimed ignorance when Willow demanded to know what Mr. Gauss wanted. "Just remember you're Will, and you never met him before."

The two women rode in silence with Willow dreading another deceit-infused meeting and Shirley gripping the wheel with white knuckles.

"Why is it so urgent?"

"Mr. Gauss insists on meeting all the staff after their first week. He chewed me out for not introducing Will. There has to be more, though. He insisted I put you on the day schedule, and tomorrow wasn't soon enough."

"Is he usually so impatient?"

"No." They drove in silence.

"Try to look bigger." It was the last advice Shirley gave before calling her boss to announce Will's arrival.

The General Manager strode into Shirley's office a few minutes later. "Hello, Will," he smiled and shook hands.

Willow remembered to make her shake firm but doubted it helped. Her thin hand disappeared in Mr. Gauss' bear paw. He looked at her and asked, "How do you like it here? It's been what, two weeks?" He turned to his assistant.

"About that," she confirmed.

"Well?" He rotated back to Willow.

"It's been nerve-wracking, but I'm getting used to it," Willow answered with complete honesty and an unconvincing deep voice.

"You've already caught the eye of some of our members."

"Here it comes," Willow thought.

"That's not always a good thing. But one of our most influential members, a leader on our board of directors, in fact, asked for you personally."

Willow learned nothing form Shirley's face. When she maintained her silence, Mr. Gauss continued.

"Mr. Hamilton requires a personal assistant while he trains for his upcoming triathlon. It's a big accomplishment for him to even enter, but I shouldn't say too much. He'll explain. You'll work days for the foreseeable future and have only one assignment: meet Mr. Hamilton's needs. Do you understand?"

"Not completely, sir."

"You'll do fine. He already thinks highly of you." Mr. Gauss moved to depart but said, as an afterthought, "Say hello to your sister for me."

Shirley rolled with the new development as if she expected it all along. "Mr. Hamilton may already be here. If so, you shouldn't keep him waiting. Ask Denim at the desk."

"What if he's, ah, in the shower or something?"

"Don't get your hopes up." Shirley frowned. "You've been there before. Stay as inconspicuous as possible and remember to be Will."

"I can't do it anymore." Willow heart pounded.

"Suck it up. You made your bed. Now sleep in it."

Willow recoiled from the injustice of Shirley's claim.

"Go! You're wasting time."

Willow slumped and surrendered as Shirley half-shoved her out of the office. "You must have made one hell of an impression in the showers," the Assistant Manager speculated before closing the office door.

For the third time, Willow pushed into the men's area. It got easier each time, she learned. Half a dozen members changed clothes and ignored her presence. An attendant had confirmed over the phone that Smalley was in the sauna. With cement shoes, the young woman trudged across the room and knocked on the closed cedar door. When nobody answered, she mustered the courage to walk in.

"Will, it's good to see you. Have you had a chance to talk with Fred?"

Willow stared without comprehension.

"Fred Gauss."

"Oh, yes, sir. He sent me to assist you."

"Good. Thanks. I hope you don't mind. I've known most of the attendants for a while, and I can't say I picture any of them, ah, in a personal capacity."

Willow started to object, but Smalley interrupted. "I mean no offense to them. I, let's say, have high hopes for the new guy. That's all."

"Yes, sir. How can I help?"

"I'll be in here for another fifteen minutes, and then I'll shower. Since we have some time, tell me about yourself, if you don't mind."

"There isn't much to tell," Willow said. Heat made her perspire, and combined with humidity, dampened her uniform. A wet oval appeared between her breasts.

"You'll ruin your uniform in here. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. Just wait for me outside the shower area so I can explain what I need."

"Yes, sir." Willow backed out of the sauna. She obeyed his instructions and witnessed a parade of men coming and going. Not that she kept score, but her tally of first-hand penis observations climbed up to an even ten. She marveled at the variety of sizes and shapes, and her vague understanding of circumcision clarified.

Smalley tossed his sweaty towel from the sauna into her surprised grasp and sauntered into the shower. Yes, he was circumcised, she confirmed. By the time Willow returned from dropping the thing in a hamper, Smalley had already completed a quick rinse and turned to walk toward her. She noticed it was smaller than the others she'd seen, but it was also less frightening. The floppy bits are borderline ugly, after all, so maybe less is more.

The subject of her admiration bounded out of the shower grinning. "We're going to be late for our lunch," he said in a way that worried Willow.

She leaned against a wall staring at the floor to avoid any awkward eye contact with the dozen men in various states of undress. Smalley didn't seem to need any assistance, and that made her presence even more ridiculous.

"What am I doing?" she asked herself, but when she closed her eyes, the sight of a smile on the way out of the shower returned. "I could get used to that smile," she though, "and that body." Visions of showering naked with him jumped to the front of her list of fantasies to explore later in her bed - with no chance of actually being seen - or ridiculed.

Lunch took place in a mansion on the hill. Smalley drove his Audi a few blocks along a street lined with tall pines while Willow shrank into a leather seat. Metal gates opened as the car approached, and a long twisting driveway lead to a paved courtyard.

"You didn't tell me about yourself," her chauffeur reminded her. "I hope to learn all about you over lunch." He smiled and stepped out of the vehicle.

Willow followed behind, gawking at the stone structure looming above the yard. Her entire apartment could fit in the entrance foyer.

"This is my parent's house," Smalley said. "We'll eat in the kitchen. Cassandra usually makes sandwiches." He led the way through a door into a butler's pantry, past an impressive china collection, and into the most beautiful kitchen Willow had ever seen. Large slabs of dark gray slate paved the floor under birch cabinets topped with soapstone.

"This is my dorky sister, Cassandra," her guide gestured with evident pride.

"Hey," Cassandra said with a prune-face displayed for her brother and returned to chopping an onion.

The age difference between Smalley and his gangly teen sister surprised Willow. The girl's curly black hair contained patches of colors from the rainbow as if she tried every available dye. A lip piercing and ratty old jeans jacket didn't quite make the punk look convincing. Something about the girl still betrayed softness.

"Call me Cassie," she suggested. "I hate my name."

"It's pretty. It suits you."

Cassandra searched Willow's eyes until Willow remembered to wipe the charming effeminate smile from her face. As lips compressed, emotional distance expanded. How did the two women become so suddenly close that withdrawal could be felt?

The threesome enjoyed lunch, chatting about Cassandra's favorite television series. Willow had never heard of it, but it sounded interesting. Smalley leaned back in his chair displaying his wry masculine half-smile. Cassandra emphasized her words with wild hand gestures that Willow subconsciously mimicked. By the time Smalley announced the need to depart, Willow had a new friend. Cassandra ran out of the house to shove a video tape from the TV series into Willow's hands. "Take your time," Cassandra said, "We'll talk about it when you bring it back."

In the car, Smalley remarked, "That was a nice touch, lending the tape."

"Huh?"

"Now Cassandra is certain you'll come back if only to return it. She'll get another chance to hook you."

"She's not interested in me."

"Oh yes, she is. I brought you here because she wanted to meet you. She's seen you around the club."

"Why me?"

"I have no idea," Smalley answered shaking his head, but he grinned.

"Wow. What should I do?"

"It depends. Do you like her? Would you like to escort her to the Valentine's Day Cotillion?"

"I like her, but um, I'm speechless."

"Listen." Smalley paused to form his next words. "Cassandra has always been a tomboy and never showed interest in the debutante scene. This is her last eligible year, and I can tell she wants to attend. All she needs is an escort."

Willow's stomach fell. "I'm too old for her."

"She's eighteen. Just think about it. Ask her later. She might not want to go, or she might not want to go with you."

Willow looked into her lap.

"Did I sting your ego?"

"No," she replied. "I've never been on a date is all."

"You can borrow my black tuxedo. We're about the same size, and you can have it altered."

They drove across town in silence until Smalley parked on the edge of a deserted beach. "I'm training for a triathlon, and the swimming leg is my weakest. I have wetsuits in the trunk. I need you to pace me on a jet ski in case I can't continue or have hypothermia or something."

Willow followed him to the back of the car where he popped the trunk. "The water's nearly frozen this time of year." Alarm registered in Willow's objection.

"I'll be fine in the wetsuit. You should be OK on the jet ski."

Without further discussion, he stripped bare right there in the parking lot. Frigid wind gusts off the lake turned him blue before he managed to zip the inner seal. It took him a while using talcum powder to ease into tight legs and arms.

Willow shivered in her work uniform and once again marveled at the contours of his body. She watched while he struggled to get into the rubberized material, and his penis shrank before her eyes. It recoiled into his body for warmth. All too soon, a second wetsuit lay draped over her shoulder.

"Change into yours. I'll get one of my jet skis from the storage barn across the street." As he walked away, Smalley called back, "take off your underwear, too. If it gets wet, it'll hold the water against your skin. It's better to be bare, trust me."

Willow's mind reeled. She dove into the back seat of the Audi and stripped as fast as possible to avoid disaster if he returned too soon. Her frilly pink panties posed a dilemma. She wanted to keep them, but Smalley's warning sounded serious. If she took them off, where could she hide them? It took forever to get into the suit, and her heart raced in panic. In the end, she pulled the zipper over her small breasts and up to her chin. She kept the panties on.

Smalley towed a two-wheeled trailer across the road and into the parking lot using brute strength. His legs strained, and his shoulders hunched. He grit his teeth to drag the wheels through a part of the lot covered by wind-blown sand.

"That was a good warm-up," he grunted. "Put on your boots and gloves." He nodded his head to the open trunk. "Help me drag this beast down to the water."

Willow didn't think she contributed much to the effort, but the two of them rolled and dragged the trailer into the shallow surf. The jet ski slid off with the help of gravity once straps unlocked. It splashed backward into the water, and Smalley jumped on. He fiddled for a while before the thing roared to life belching blue smoke.

"Jump on. I'll show you how to drive."

Willow climbed behind him, but he said, "No. You get in front."

Once rearranged, safety between his outstretched arms gave her confidence. He pressed against her back showing throttle settings as they navigated a figure eight.

"You have the hang of it. I'll drag the trailer up on the beach and close up the car. Practice if you want."

In spite of the cold, Willow loved the sensation of power throbbing between her legs. She tried full speed for a few seconds, but freezing water kicked up to her face, and the wind made her ears burn. Smiles and laughter greeted Smalley upon his return.

He swam for two hours without a break and then climbed up behind Willow for the return trip. The jet ski ran out of gas, but Willow managed to ground it on the beach. They walked back to the trailer which by then was hitched to a beat up old pickup truck. Cassandra had the motor running and heat on, so Willow and Smalley squeezed onto the bench seat for the short drive along the beach to collect the jet ski.

"Where did you get the truck?" Smalley asked.

"It's the gardener's," Cassandra said.

"Damn, I should have thought to borrow it."

"You're stupid enough to swim in the lake in February. I took it for granted you were too stupid to plan ahead."

Smalley shook his head in dismay. He unzipped his suit to the waist enabling warm air to dry his chest. Willow wanted to do the same. She wanted completely out of the damn thing because her buttocks were numb with cold.

Once everything was back in the barn, Smalley suggested Cassandra give Will a ride home while he returned the truck. "Your clothes are in there anyway," he observed.

Willow asked what to do with the wetsuit, and he told her to keep it for next time.

"Sorry about that," Cassandra said when they were out on the main road again. "I would have helped him, but I had a dance lesson after lunch."

"Have you taken lessons very long?"

"I just started. I'm trying not to embarrass myself at the cotillion."

"Oh? You already have a date?"

"No, but hope springs eternal." She smiled with warmth, contradicting her severe attire.

"I don't know how to dance," Willow admitted and hoped that might end the subject.

"There's still time. You could come to my lessons."

"Then who would freeze with your brother?"

Willow directed Cassandra to a low-rent district and jumped out of the Audi holding her club uniform wadded in a ball.

"This is your apartment?"

"Yeah. I'm on the third floor. Thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome," Cassandra said as Willow trudged stiff-legged to the stairs.

After a long hot shower that included an unfulfilling attempt to masturbate, Willow recounted the day to her roommates. She had to back up and explain the whole situation. They acted like school girls making her describe the men's showers multiple times. Even though Willow felt dead tired, her roommates dragged her to a discount store. They bought a package of boy's white briefs, some boy's jeans, and a couple of unisex t-shirts. Willow wanted to be prepared if she had to be Will away from work or found a sudden need to shed underwear.

The roommates thought it was hilarious and compelled her to model the briefs for them. She looked depressingly convincing in jeans and a t-shirt. One of her roommates teased, "I'd hit that," and they all laughed.

Smalley met Willow at the club the next morning. He spent half an hour in the sauna and then showered. Willow hated being idle, but managed to sit on her hands out of sight in the staff area for most of the time. She entered the men's room in time to catch Smalley pulling on his socks. She almost got out without incident, but a couple of young men, guests or children of members, started wrestling in the shower. One guy had the other in a headlock. The regular attendant pulled Willow in to help him break up the fight. The guy in the headlock had a raging erection. It looked long enough to stretch past his bellybutton. Willow gasped at its size and the way it pointed toward.

"It happens sometimes," Smalley said when he saw Willow's look.

"Huh? What?"

"Some of the younger guys can't take a compliment." He winked.

"You mean they were fighting because of the - you know."

Smalley chuckled.

Willow drove the Audi while Smalley alternated jogging and running along the streets around the club. They ended up at his parents' house again at lunch time. Smalley took another shower while Willow and Cassandra talked about punk music Willow never heard. Over lunch, Smalley asked to see what his sister learned from dance lessons so far.