Agnes Dourville Ch. 05

Note: I was away on a trip so had lots of time to write. I'll be posting a bunch of new chapters over the next several days.

*****

An awkward silence ensues and I look off to the side. I don't want those penetrating eyes penetrating mine.

"Michael, Michael, how could you have done what you did? You were mighty lucky Sharon didn't tell her parents; her dad might've come after you. She almost didn't tell me, but I knew something was up. I had to drag the story out of her."

"All I did was try to kiss her."

"Not the way I heard it. Sharon said you tried to grab her and force yourself on her."

"You mean you think I tried to rape her?"

"That's the way it sounds to me."

"Jeez, this episode is getting way out of whack. I only put my arm around her and was going to kiss her. I thought this was something she'd like. I had never kissed a girl before and wanted to try. Now I'm being made out to be a rapist. Jesus god!"

"Well, that's your story, isn't it? Look, Sharon's not used to boys and boys' attentions. Her only date before was when someone took her to a church picnic. Sharon's a very nice young lady. She's shy when it comes to boys. She's not a hussy like some of the other girls around here. You must've known that, and yet you thought you could corral her and force a kiss on her."

"I was only thinking of myself, I guess. I wanted that kiss."

"I know boys," crowed Agnes. "After the kiss, then there's fondling, and pretty soon a boy's all over a girl. They turn into animals."

Without thinking about it too much, I'm seeing Agnes at Sharon's age, allowing herself to be ravaged by a persistent young man because she didn't dare protest.

"All I wanted was a kiss. And I like Sharon."

"Yeah, but you never asked permission. What you did was a total surprise and shock."

"I gathered that, and I told her I was sorry. But now she hardly speaks to me."

Agnes gathers herself up and her chin comes up again and she re-arranges herself and thrusts her substantial bosom out, like a battleship getting ready to fire a salvo. My transgression is definitely higher on her scale of misdemeanors than walking down the hall wrapped in a bath towel.

"Michael, we're going to see this as a learning experience, aren't we?"

I love the "we" part. She doesn't wait for a feeble answer.

"Listen, I want to make sure you respect women more. I know you respect me; you more or less have to. I don't think you would ever come on to Clarice in that way. But I want to help you respect vulnerable young women like Sharon. What's best is for you to be in Sharon's shoes, so to speak, to feel what it's like to be a woman. To be treated like one. To be seen as one. Don't you think that would be valuable?"

"I don't know." I involuntarily squirm in my chair because I feel what's coming.

"I have a plan for you, little Michael. I expect you will hate it, but it will truly make you a better person."

I see her leg, tightly crossed over the other one, begin to bob up and down. It tells me she's getting animated by what she's springing on me. I also instantly notice the subtle glint of her nylons, and that she's changed into sexier shoes since she came home. She notices my glance.

"I've given a lot of thought about how you can redeem yourself - and here's how: For your education and erudition, you WILL dress as a woman when you're working in the store, for, say, three weeks, You can work mostly in the back, but you will need to be in front some of the time. I will make every effort to help you pass as a woman, including getting you a wig. Sharon and Clarice and I will totally treat you like a woman, and I expect customers will too. To anyone who asks, we'll say that you're Michael's twin sister, Michelle. And oh yes, you will dress as a woman here at home, too."

"This is stupid," I say. "I would never do this. It's unthinkable. You're using this as an excuse to turn me into another Clarice."

"There's that anger rising to the surface again, and that's so unlike the nice young man you really are," says Agnes, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of the chase. "But know I can make you look so womanlike that no one would suspect that you're a boy. You would be wearing dresses, a slip, a bra, the wig like I said - which you could choose - some simple jewelry, a little makeup, and some nice feminine shoes. Because of your slender size and sort-of feminine facial features, I know you could pass. Oh, and I could find a little padded girdle to give you some better hips. It would be so valuable for you to learn how a woman talks and thinks, and behaves. This will be to your benefit, and I have no doubt you will do it."

"Ha!" I exclaim. "This is more like a punishment. You're probably happy this thing happened with Sharon, because it gives you this chance to, to ... humiliate me. You're dreaming if you think I'd live as a girl. I don't think three weeks would be the end of it ... I draw the line at wearing nightgowns. That's as far as I'll go."

"It gets down to what we agreed on," says Agnes. "If you live and work here; you will obey my rules. Unfortunately, you departed from being a well-behaved young man by showing your uncontrolled male side. It's time we made sure that side doesn't happen again."

"There's no way I'm a girl," I say. "I'm a guy, I'm Michael and not Michelle, for god's sake ... I'm going to call my mother and tell her what's going on in your head."

"I already told her what happened," announces Agnes succinctly. "She was ashamed of you, to be honest. I told her about my plan. She thought it a bit extreme, but in the end, she agreed it could benefit you."

"If it comes down to that, then, I'm going to leave," I say. "You're forcing me to do this."

"Let me know when we can go shopping for your new wardrobe," Agnes chirps confidently.

For whatever reason, tears well up in my eyes. Totally embarrassed and chagrined, I head for my room. Before I flop down on the fluffy bed, I turn the doll on the chair around so it can't look at me. I alternate between feeling defeated - big time - and angrily vowing to find a way to leave.

Over the next several days, I call my uncle where my two brothers are working to see if I can work there, but he says he doesn't need more help. I scan the help wanted ads in the local newspapers (while continuing to work at the store, and with Agnes awaiting her expected victory and Sharon giving me the silent treatment) and respond to several. They don't pan out. They're either looking for older guys with more experience or they want someone local who knows everyone. I ask Clarice (who thinks Agnes' plan for me is cute) if there's any work to be had at the print shop/newspaper, but there's only a delivery spot which wouldn't begin to pay enough. I finally sink low enough to seek a city garbage collecting job, but after one look at me, they say give me a thumbs down. I ask around for any farm work (except at Sharon's farm of course!), but nothing comes my way. I'm getting discouraged. Very discouraged.

The last job opportunity presenting itself is at the local sort-of department store as a sales clerk, but that would also involve working from time to time in the woman's department, and I don't even want to get close to that. It's almost as though they're in cahoots with Agnes ...

That weekend, I'm so desperate I pack a small backpack with a few clothes and toiletries and walk out to the edge of town to begin hitchhiking to wherever. I have fifty dollars in my pocket. I've never hitchhiked before but I've seen others do it, so I stick my thumb out. After an hour a skinny, hyper guy picks me up with his tractor trailer and wonders where I'm going. Just down the highway," I mumble. "Looking for a job." He drops me off 20 miles away at a country corner. So there I stand again, in the boonies, lonesome as hell, and wondering where I'll spend the night. Two hours pass, dark clouds roll in, and I get rained on, without a raincoat. Never occurred to me I'd need a raincoat. I duck under a tree. Before dark, a farmer turning off the highway with his pickup takes pity on me and drives me to his nearby farm, and his wife gives me a towel to dry off with.

"You don't need a hired hand, do you?" I blabber.

"No, sorry about that. We're retired. Rent out the land to other guys to farm."

They're not offering me a place to stay overnight, but they do offer to give me some traveling food. All I see is more rainstorms ahead, loneliness, and running out of money, so I ask to use their phone. I call Agnes and ask her to pick me up, expecting her to be angry. But no, she acts as though this was altogether normal, and after two hours I see her Hudson churning up the gravel driveway. I'm actually thrilled to see her, because she's my oh-so-dependable savior here - the only one who seems to care for me at this point in my crazy life.

It turns out she knows the couple, and thanks them, and explains things away by saying I hadn't prepared well enough to go visit a friend. We climb into the security and warmth of her car and drive a short distance down the driveway before I ask her to stop. I reach out to hug her and bury my head between her two warm breasts. For the first time ever, she runs her hand through my hair and caresses my shoulder a little. I can feel her heart beating.

"Welcome back home, Michelle," she says softly.