Ethan Martin and his mother live a simple life in a small Southern town... with a twist: She makes dresses to pay the bills and he helps out as best he can.
Aunt DeeDee makes a discovery. And Ethan learns a truth.
It was late afternoon, and the sun slanted low enough to catch every speck of dust in the Martin house, transforming the air into a glittering golden haze.
DeeDee let herself in, as usual, flicking the remains of her cigarette into the yard before stepping across the threshold. Her hair was cropped sharp around her ears, auburn streaks catching the light, and she wore a red bandana tied like Rosie the Riveter, and an oil-smudged work shirt knotted at the waist; her flat stomach suggested a fit and firm existence. In contrast to her impeccable mascara and red lipstick she had grease beneath one thumbnail and the permanent look of a woman who could change your carburetor and wipe the floor with you at poker.
“Colleen?” she called. No reply.
Instead, music pulsed through the house--a bright, bubbly pop song from some all-girl group. DeeDee cocked her head, listening.
“Now what the hell…?”
She followed the music like a bloodhound. Pushing open the sewing room door, she found herself stopping short, lips curving into a wicked grin.
There was her twelve year old nephew, Ethan, framed in a rectangle of late-day sun, dust rag poised high, twisting his slender body as he danced. He wore a snug white and red polka dot crop top with a ruched sweetheart neckline, a matching pair of high-cut bikini panties hugging his round bottom. A polka dot scarf--also matching--tied in a perfect vintage bow, perched atop his brown hair like a pair of rabbit ears. As he swayed and gyrated and moved about the skimpy top left a good portion of his belly and the top of his panties exposed. His cheeks were flushed, his long eyelashes damp with sweat, and his bare feet squeaked softly on the polished wood floor as he spun.
Ethan sang along in a small, breathy voice, completely unaware he was no longer alone:
🎵 My baby says he loves me, and I believe it’s true… 🎶
DeeDee leaned one shoulder into the doorframe, folding her arms, smirking. The sight before her was just too good to be true.
🎶 He calls me sugar-darlin’ and says there’s no one new… 🎵
“I thought you didn’t know how to dance,” she drawled.
Ethan shrieked so high-pitched DeeDee half-expected the windows to shatter. He wheeled around, hair flying, eyes saucer-wide. The dust rag fluttered to the floor.
“A-Aunt DeeDee!”
“Aw, don’t mind me, Princess.” She gave him a playful wink. “I’m just here for the entertainment.”
Ethan, face crimson, scrambled to cover himself, trying to tug his short top lower over his abdomen, only succeeding in exposing more bare skin and even more of the waistband of his panties.
DeeDee let out a slow, appreciative whistle. “Cute. Now I see what my sister’s been talking about.”
“Don’t look at me!” he squeaked. “Please, don’t look at me!”
“Oh Princess, you’re way too late,” DeeDee purred, stepping into the room, “I been lookin’ for a while now. I mean, you gave me quite the show. The dusting. The hip action. The polka dots on that sweet little booty! I’d pay good money for front-row seats to see the whole routine.”
Ethan clasped his hands over his panties, trembling. “It’s not what it looks like!”
DeeDee raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh. Sure. So… explain to me what exactly it looks like, then.”
“It’s… it’s hot in here!” Ethan stammered. “The sun in the windows … and Mom’s sewing machines … make the room stuffy. I was just trying to be comfortable while cleaning--”
DeeDee gave him a dry look. “Mmm-hmm. So naturally you decided the solution was to dress like a teeny bopper from an old beach party movie and do a burlesque show with a dust rag?”
“I wasn’t doing a show!” Ethan wailed, stamping one foot. “I’m just cleaning!”
DeeDee paused, folding her arms tighter. Her eyes traveled over him thoughtfully.
Here was this shy, delicate little kid, teetering on the edge of thirteen, cheeks red as cherries, hair tied up like a movie starlet. And yet… the way he moved, the way he posed. Not entirely accidental. A flick of the hips, a bounce on his toes. DeeDee could see it in the tiny flashes of joy across his face, quickly smothered by panic.
Lord help me, DeeDee thought. He doesn’t even know himself yet, does he?
She softened her voice. “Okay, Princess, if you’re so embarrassed to be seen wearing girls’ clothes--especially their panties--then why are you sneaking around behind your mother’s back?”
Ethan’s lower lip trembled. “I’m not sneaking! It’s just… I didn’t think anybody would be home… and it’s only because my shorts were in the wash, and Mom has all this extra fabric…”
DeeDee interrupted with a snort. “You made that outfit? Of course you did. And let me guess: you’re gonna tell me you ‘accidentally’ tied a bow in your hair.”
“I like how it keeps my hair out of my face when I’m dusting!” Ethan whispered, his eyes glistening with tears.
DeeDee smirked. “Uh huh. And that’s why it matches your panties.”
He groaned and dropped to his knees, scooping up the dust rag like it was his last shred of dignity.
DeeDee crouched down beside him. She lowered her voice, eyes twinkling but gentle.
“Ethan, look at me. Seriously. You know I’m not mad. I just wanna understand something.”
He peeked at her through his fringe of hair.
“You’re scared to be seen like this, right?” DeeDee asked.
Ethan nodded vigorously.
“Then tell me why, Princess,” DeeDee continued, tapping her chin with an unlit cigarette, “do you keep coming back to it? Don’t try to deny it ‘cause you and I both know this sure ain’t the first time.”
Ethan shrank, curling his toes against the floor. “I… I don’t know. Maybe I feel… pretty. It’s fun at first… but then I hate it. And I hate myself. I don’t mean to be a sissy… but ….” His voice cracked. “Please don’t tell Dani.”
DeeDee blew out a slow breath. Her chest ached unexpectedly.
My poor baby, she thought. He’s dealing with so much now. I know grown men who wish they had half his courage. And he’s just a kid.
She reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Ethan’s ear. “You know why she calls you that, don’t you?”
Ethan sniffed. “What? A sissy?”
“That's not what she’s sayin’. She’s never said you were a sissy. As far as she’s concerned you’re just ‘Sissy.’ It’s her nickname for you.”
“What’s the difference? She’s still being mean to me.”
“Well, maybe. A little.” DeeDee scratched her ear. “The thing is, she calls you that because that’s what I called your mom when I was little. Colleen was my favorite big sister--my ‘Sissy’. Dani doesn’t have that. You’re all she’s got. She loves you like you’re her brother, sister. Whatever.” She laughed. “You dressing up all girly, that just gave her the perfect excuse to call you her Sissy.”
Ethan nodded. “So, she calls me… ‘Sissy’… because… she… loves me?”
“Maybe. Wearing panties around the house probably has more to do with it than anything. Hell, Princess, what do I know?”
Ethan picked at his dust cloth and pouted. “So, why do you call me that… other name?”
“What name? Oh, Princess?” She raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want me to explain that?”
The cross-dressed boy looked down at himself and shrugged. “Guess not,” he said with a rueful laugh.
DeeDee reached out and put her finger under his chin, forcing him to look her in the eye. “Look, kiddo, maybe you’re a sissy, maybe you aren’t. Either way… so what? You’re still my nephew. I love you to death. And I ain’t tellin’ Dani squat. Though, for the record, I think you’d make one hell of a pinup girl.”
Ethan let out a watery laugh. “Please don’t say that, Auntie DeeDee.”
DeeDee squinted. “Don’t you dare call me Auntie DeeDee.”
Ethan blinked. “But… you are my aunt.”
“Yeah, well, ‘auntie’ makes me sound like some old lady knitting doilies,” DeeDee snapped. “I’m your Aunt DeeDee. Or just DeeDee. Call me ‘auntie’ again and I’ll get Dani over here to run you around the neighborhood in those little polka-dot panties.”
Ethan gasped. “No, please don’t!”
DeeDee grinned and kissed his forehead, leaving a crimson lip print that he wouldn’t see for the rest of the afternoon. “Then we’re clear.” She straightened up, sticking the still unlit cigarette between her lips.
He sat on the floor a moment longer, hugging his knees, looking utterly small and relieved all at once.
DeeDee studied him. Part of her still wanted to push a little further, poke at the puzzle. Does he wanna be a girl? Or just dress like one? Or is it about pleasing Colleen? Hell if I know. Kid’s complicated.
But she decided to let him off the hook. For now.
“You’re okay, Ethan,” she said, softer now. “Just… keep your chin up. And stop apologizing for who you are. You hear me?”
He nodded shyly. “Thanks, Aunt DeeDee.”
“I do have a couple of questions, though.” The grinning woman raised an eyebrow. “So, who’s your ‘baby?’”
“My… baby?”
“You know, the one you were singing about.” She snickered. “The one who calls you sugar darlin’. Anybody I know? Or should know? A boy at school, maybe? Come on, Princess, ‘fess up!”
Ethan looked horrified. “Aunt DeeDee! It’s just a song! There’s no… boy or anything. Ew, gross! It’s just a stupid song.”
DeeDee laughed. “Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a wad. My other question is, who taught you to dance like that? Didn’t you learn anything the last time you were at my house? Come here, Princess, let me give you a lesson in real dancin’….”
Colleen walked through the front door with her arms loaded with purchases. She’d gotten a good deal on material at Joanne’s, along with additional thread and seam tape and other items she’d need for the next several projects. She hoped Ethan was done with his chores as she needed him to help her sort through everything. He’d become indispensable since he began working for her business. After lunch she wanted to get him to work cutting cloth from her latest pattern.
As she walked through the house she heard music playing, along with the sound of laughter. She’d seen DeeDee’s red Mustang out front, so it figured. That girl was always giving Ethan grief. She just hoped she hadn’t gotten him too upset or they’d never get any work done this afternoon.
🎵 She’s peekin’ from behind the car, blushin’ so sweet,,, 🎶
🎶 In her polka-dot bikini, lookin’ cute and neat… 🎵
“DeeDee? Is that you?” More laughing-- and now squealing--came from the sewing room. “Ethan, baby… is Aunt DeeDee giving you a hard time--”
🎶 …hidin’ in her towel, pink cheeks and all… 🎵
🎵 In a polka-dot bikini that’s so teeny and small… 🎶
She stopped at the sewing room door, taking in the scene before her. DeeDee and Ethan were dancing face to face, the tall woman with a cigarette in her mouth, twisting and gyrating her hips and doing a shimmy that caused her breasts to wobble wildly from side to side. Ethan--wearing the cutest little polka dot top and panty set--was following her lead with surprising skill, wiggling his butt and shoulders, doing his best to imitate his aunt’s chest shake, though with less impressive results.
🎶 She giggles when they whistle, won’t come when they call… 🎵
🎵 My bikini baby is the belle of the ball! 🎶
Like DeeDee thirty minutes earlier, Colleen was as amused as she was fascinated by the sight. She put down her purse and shopping bags and stood with her hands on her hips until the end of the song, a mischievous grin on her face.
“How about an encore?” She slowly applauded as the exhausted pair laughed and hugged. “If I didn’t know better I’d say my little sister finally found the daughter she always wanted.”
DeeDee and Ethan both froze in place. Before Colleen could say another word DeeDee glanced at the watch she wasn’t wearing and declared, “Hey, look at that! I’m late for that… uh, thing. Gotta get going! Thanks for the dance lesson, Princess!”
She scrambled past Colleen, leaving Ethan to face his mother, still clad in his scandalously cute polka dot get-up.
“What were you two up to?” she demanded. She gave her son the dreaded raised eyebrow look. “She’s acting guilty about something. Is there anything I need to know about?”
Ethan froze. “No, Mother. Nothing’s going on. I promise! We were… um, just dancing.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Colleen arched one brow. “Just dancing, you say.”
DeeDee’s voice drifted faintly from the hallway: “He’s been workin’ real hard, Collie! Nothing to see here! Just takin’ a break, that’s all. Call you later!”
And then she was gone.
Colleen looked her son up and down, lips twitching between a frown and a smile. The crimson lip print on his forehead told her all she needed to know.
“Nice panties, honey. You made them, yes? The top, too? Good job.”
Ethan, looking every inch a startled fawn, fidgeted and squirmed under his mother’s gaze. He glanced down at his polka dot outfit and mumbled, “Um, thank… you? There was extra material and I… uh--”
“You did just fine, baby. The knotted bows on the hips are very chic.”
“Um, yeah.” The blushing boy stood pigeon-toed, his hands behind his back, not realizing how that made him look. “I saw them in one of your catalogs and thought it looked, you know… cute.”
“Good call.” Colleen smirked. “They look quite cute. Cuter than you might think.”
There was an awkward silence. Ethan finally spoke up. “You’re not mad, are you?”
“Not at all. Just… curious.”
The red-faced boy started up the music again. “Well, I still have cleaning to do. Sorry it’s not done yet, Mother.”
“Oh, you go ahead and finish, darling. Do what you have to do.” Colleen crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, a hard look on her face. “Don’t let me stop you. I need a little break myself, so I think I’ll just stay right here--and supervise.”
The blushing boy gave his mother a feeble smile, turned around and resumed dusting, slowly and carefully at first, but then his hips started swaying again, cautiously at first, then more freely as the music swept him up.
🎶 When I woke up this mornin’, all I could think of was you…. 🎵
🎵 All I could think of was you … 🎶
🎶 Would you hug me, whoa-oh… would you kiss me, whoa-oh… 🎵
🎵 All I could think of was you… 🎶
Colleen watched her son dance about the room for the longest time, shaking her head but unable to hide an amused, crooked smile.
Mercy sakes alive, she thought, he’s half my son and half my daughter already. And this is only the beginning.
And the dust motes danced around Ethan like glitter as he wiggled his plump, polka dot clad bottom in time to the beat.
Next: A Fitting Afternoon