Shakedown
by Ellie Dauber (c) 2003

The Ace-High Lounge was in its early evening lull, between the “I’ll just stop off for a quick drink on the way home” crowd and the “Let’s go out tonight and have a few drinks” crowd. A few people were scattered here and there through the room, trying to decide which group they wanted to be in.

A beefy man, about forty, in a police uniform, walked in and headed quietly over to the bar. “Your boss around?” he asked the bartender.

“In the office,” the bartender said. “You want I should get him?”

The college sponsored a Winter Carnival every year near the end of January to give everyone a chance to blow off a little steam. There were all sorts of activities such as figure skating contests, snow man building, and even sleigh rides. Some of the frats and sororities had booths with food, hot cider and cocoa. Others set up carnival type of games. The college even cancelled classes for Friday. Naturally, my presence, as the SRS Halloqueen, was requested, and because of my position, RLE didn’t object.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I lamented to Sylvia.

“Said just like a woman,” she responded.

"My power flurries through the air into the ground," I sing as I dramatically glide across the stage, my ice blue dress flowing around me with every step I take.

"My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around
And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast
I'm never going back, the past is in the past..."

"Let it go, let it go," I sing, my lungs feeling like they're going to break under the strain.
"And I'll rise like the break of dawn,
Let it go, let it go,
That perfect girl is gone.
Here I stand,
In the light of day,

Well, I had admitted that I liked being a girl at times, but that I liked being a boy when I was with Sandy. My project, or maybe my performance was no secret, and most of my friends and acquaintances thought it was funny. On the other hand, a few people thought it was perverted, and made no secret of that.

I was even hit on by a few boys who admitted that they were gay, as if my cross dressing in some way made me gay. I gently corrected their misapprehensions. What was more interesting were the number of girls who hit on me. They made it clear that they wanted me as a girlfriend, since I looked sexy as a girl, and I had my male parts. I told them that I already had a girlfriend.

To everyone, I made it plain that my motivation to wear a dress had nothing to do with sex or my gender; I was motivated by getting an ‘A’ on my project.

“Yeah, but you seemed to be enjoying wearing a dress and acting like a girl. Way too much for just an ‘A’ it seems to me,” one of my male friends said.

“Well,” I responded, “I thought it best to act the part as well as I could. I always want to do my best.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “but you make one sexy chick. If I didn’t know better, I’d ask you out.”

This is a multi-part story I'm working on for Hatbox. It will be appearing in the Patreon feed, a week early for Patrons then briefly for everyone. When each part is finished, it will go into Hatbox. I hope you enjoy...

“So you’re going to sing a girl’s song?” Gloria asked with a snicker.

“It’s not a girl song or a boy song,” I instructed her, “both females and males have recorded it.”

“But are you going to sing it as a girl?” Gloria asked, ignoring what I previously said.

I just gave her a dirty look in response.

However, Sandy picked up on this exchange. “Didn’t Mlle. Vert suggest that you dress up like Lucienne Boyer when you sing it?” she interjected. Now my sisters were as interested in my project as a bunch of vultures looking at a fresh kill. This conversation was quickly getting out of control.

Shadowsblade a Whateley Tale: Written by Shadowsblade

Created for war and forged in pain, dealing with demons within and without.

I apologize for the extremely lengthy time between postings for this story. Life, as I mentioned in the prologue, can be an utter PITA. Some of that was due to the muse striking at various times with stories or chapters of stories, some due to the muse apparently being on strike or lost.

We arrived at the site for the Lake County Fair perhaps an hour after we left the Williston area that Monday morning.