Posted by: Admin on Saturday, August 17, 2002 - 04:36 AM 
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Paying the rent can be a problem...
The Landlady
The Landlady
by Lorna Samuels
Disclaimer
The following work was originally published in the mid-1980's by Empathy Press (Seattle) in their series "Guys in Gowns" #77 & 78. It is the exclusive property of the author and Empathy Press, by whose permission it has been electronically reproduced for dissemination to certain Internet web masters for presentation on their sites. Any reproduction or redistribution without express written (or e-mailed) consent is strictly prohibited. All Rights Reserved,
What happened to me at the ripe old age of thirty-six could probably redefine the term "mid-life crisis". How about 'mid-thirties disaster' instead! Well, it may not have been that bad, since the result has been most pleasant indeed, but at the time, it seemed like the end of the world, as I knew it. Within only a few short weeks, my carefully structured life disintegrated like a tomato in a blender!
It started when the well-established architectural firm, where I'd been a lead draftsman for twelve years, decided that they needed the 'expertise' of advanced education. Thus, the "powers that be" summarily terminated (with severance pay, of course) all "non-degreed" workers. I was the only exception; but that's not as good as it might sound. Having tenure, I was 'allowed' to stay and break in the new 'degrees', but that was temporary! So, with my job going down the toilet, I somewhat underhandedly worked out a deal with my boss, Brian Ecklers (we'd been golfing buddies for several six years). He promised to retain me part-time for up to a year with the provision that I complete my studies and get the architectural degree that I'd suspended work on so long ago. That done, he guaranteed that I'd get back my old job when I was 'degreed'. It wasn't much, but it was all I could wangle, so I was feeling fairly pleased with myself.
Until things got much worse. My old 'friend', LORA, began demanding attention after many years of silence, and my wife, Janice, was abruptly introduced to 'her', precipitating yet another phase of my "mid-thirties disaster", divorce!
Of course, divorces are certainly common enough events in today's social climate, and I've never denied my own responsibility for ours, but when I personally became one of the parties involved, ... well, let's just say the upheaval in my life was drastic, to say the least.
Suddenly, at 36, after years of marriage, I was on my own. Alone! Given the reasons, I knew all too well that I'd have to deal with my situation as best I could. But I certainly didn't have to like it. In fact, I hated it.
The first problem was where to live. Here, for a change, Lady Luck dealt me a fair hand when I found an old two-story colonial almost exactly where I needed it, smack between office and campus. When I spotted the APARTMENT FOR RENT sign in the window, my feet hit the ground almost before I'd pulled up to the curb.
My eager knuckles raped on the heavy oak door, and within seconds, a lady whom I recognized immediately opened it. In a town the size of ours, there are always a good many well-known 'locals'. Some are leaders like politicians and college deans, while others of various types and reputations fall more under the 'characters' heading which includes. The lady who answered my knock was one of the best examples of the latter category.
Her full name is Aletia Judith Covington Galpin, but everyone just calls her "Lea" or "Aunt Lea". Although she was raised as a Christian and wasn't much older than me, she thoroughly enjoyed the fact that her prematurely white hair and short plump stature fit the stereotypical image of a Jewish matron of rather advanced years. And she 'played' her image with consummate skill, crafting an impressive "Mother Teresa" reputation that was often the fodder for various printed articles, and even resulted in her being honored twice as the community's "Humanitarian of the Year". She had more friends " than Carter's got liver piIIs". But she wasn't a 'busy body' or gossip, which made her extremely popular, and often in demand as a confidant and 'sidewalk psychologist'. With her ever-present smile and obvious zest for life, Aunt Lea was purely and simply everybody's friend.
"Well, hello there!" she greeted with a pleasant grin.
"Hi, Mrs. Galpin," I replied, "I'd like to...."
"Oh Mr. Rossman, please call me Aunt Lea like everybody else does."
"Uh, yea, sure ... Aunt Lea .. huh, you know me?"
"Why, of course.., you're Lawrence Rossman and your wife is ..oh, sorry!.. was Janice Hayden. My eldest niece was her best friend in high school, ya know?"
"...no, I didn't know."
"Do you mind if I call you 'Larry'?"
"Sure ... uh, I mean no, not at all." I nodded toward the sign. "I stopped to ask about that."
"Oh dear me, of course. Please excuse my manners, Larry." She gave me a worried look and knitted her brow. "If you'd like to have a look, come along and I'll show you. It's right upstairs."
She waved me inside and closed the door, then gestured toward the staircase.
"Thanks," I said, following her hopefully.
The expansive apartment occupied the entire upper floor, and was fully self contained. It was completely furnished, with two-bedrooms, a full bath, a small sitting/living room, and complete kitchen. I was thoroughly surprised when she offered me a one-year lease for about half what I expected to pay for much less space. Vacancies anywhere near campus were scarce as hen's teeth during the school year, and even MORE rarely were they reasonable!
"It's perfect, ..I'll take it!" I almost yelled.
"Excellent," Lea grinned. "I'm so glad. Now, let's go back downstairs and I'll find those pesky lease agreements, then we'll have a lovely cup of tea and close our little deal."
Being a heavy coffee drinker, I didn't care much for tea, no kick to it! But Lea was so pleasant, and she'd given me such an exceptionally good deal on the apartment, ...well, it would have been rude to reject her invitation.
Moments later, over freshly brewed tea in her large kitchen, I found myself relating for her a short and heavily edited version of my life's story. Lea was attentive, interested, and particularly sympathetic when I got to the part about my job. Jeez, did I need that!
Eventually, I left to move my meager belongings from the garage where Janice had dumped them after kicking me out.
Hindsight being what it is, and considering events since, I am absolutely convinced that, somehow, I was thoroughly set up that afternoon; somehow drawn with forethought and purposeful design to Aunt Lea's grand old home. Yet, even now, I cannot figure out how it was done. Unless, of course, Lea's "talent" was involved.
Anyway, I had a place, and that was half the battle. The other half was rearranging my life and getting on with it.
Finances caused me the most misery. My income had been cut drastically, but still had to cover living and school expenses, car payments, etc. Here again luck (or mismanagement) helped since my shrunken paychecks were not further strained by alimony. Fortunately, Janice, was a very well paid legal secretary, and made even more than I did working full time! And there was no child support. No kids! The house was the only problem that complicated our otherwise 'friendly' divorce, but that too was quickly solved when Janice agreed to take it AND its hefty mortgage in our out-of-court settlement.
The weeks that followed were hectic. I survived the trauma of the divorce proceedings by keeping busy, moving into and getting arranging the apartment to my satisfaction, putting in long hours at work with the new "degrees", and getting settled into being a student again after so many years. I struggled along valiantly, juggling work and studies until a moderately stable routine developed.
Being so preoccupied kept my mind off the basic reason for my present circumstances, though that was not to last for long. LORA was always in the back of my mind. Then, with my life approaching a more manageable level, and the press of loneliness closed in, my 'friend' once again occupied my thoughts. From there, it was all too easy to channel my solitude and frustrations into "Lora sessions".
Soon afterward, Lora took up residence in the second bedroom. Yes, that's right, we are (or were) the same person, yet not really that either. Oh, it's so hard to explain! Besides, others have put it into words far better than I ever could. To put it bluntly, I was a transvestite and LORA was my alter ego, my female self. There are all kinds of fancy ways to explain why 'she' existed -- why I got such an emotional charge when wearing women's clothes. But when you really break it down to the hard cold facts, yours truly had decided that it'd be more fun to be female than male. Thus, I "cross dressed", as some clinicians would put it.
In the singular privacy my own own rooms, Lora filled a huge emotional void. Experimenting with her 'incarnations', I could pretend that I was a beautiful woman with a multitude of admirers, both male and female. Lora, at least in my imagination, was NEVER lonely! She was always there to keep me company, and I was always there for her. This may seem crazy to some, but those like me will understand all too well. Essentially, she was the escape mechanism through which I dealt with my perceived failures, whether real or imaginary, as a husband, lover, and man.
Long before the divorce I made contact with and joined a small local "support group" through a contact magazine that specialized in those sorts of 'needs'. It was among these 'associates' that I began to cultivate a more extensive sense of my relationship with Lora, and to realize that I'd rather be her than myself. The group met twice a month, with about two dozen regular attendees, but no membership per se. Just an incredibly varied bunch of guys (and a couple of gals) who constantly encouraged each other to improve, and provided a wonderful support system within the ranks. I was soon taken up in their enthusiastic, and even found myself helping plan a Costume Ball, at which all group members would attend 'en femme', even those like myself who never even dressed for our weekly meetings (which was almost everybody).
That's when my long relationship with Lora and our mirror hit a major snag. I wanted very much to attend The Ball, but to accomplish any sort of decent 'presentation', I needed to make some radical improvements in Lora's appearance. Actually, I figured I'd have to shed a healthy amount of excess tonnage in the few months before the Ball if Lora was to be even minimally presentable!
To date, all my dressing was conducted in the apartment under the same totally isolated secrecy as I'd practiced before the divorce, at least until Janice caught me. The difference was that no one was likely to barge in on me, regardless of the time of day or night, as had Janice. Besides fearing further discovery, I never believed, nor could anyone convince me, that I could 'pass'; not even if everyone in the world was half blind and deaf. In a word, I was a horror in drag! A classically grotesque caricature: a friggin' drag queen! And an ugly one, too! ARGH! Genetics, hormones, age, and a lousy diet over the years had cruelly conspired against my fervent attempts at becoming the gorgeous woman I wanted so desperately to see in the mirror. At 5'11" and 240', I was obese, barrel chested, and straight hipped, with large 10ww feet. Oh, what a grizzly hairy glob to encase in a delicious full slip! Yuck'!
One lonely evening, staring at Lora's unpleasant image in the mirror, I declared to her, "We've gotta do somethin' about getting into shape."
"Losing weight would sure be a step in the right direction," answered her sweet soprano in my head. Her voice was almost real, and I knew enough psychology to realize I'd gotten a little TOO lonely and preoccupied. Though that still didn't lessen the pleasure of the moment. I know this seems schitzo, but even if the conversation had been between two real people, it would still have gone basically as I ours' did.
"Yeah," I replied tentatively, "Larry Rossman is probably a real good example of the fact that sexual frustration is oft-times reflected in one's dietary habits! I've sure overindulged lately, and shedding some of this extra baggage would be healthy too."
"That'd definitely help, as would major plastic surgery and implants."
"Hey, no way! Too expensive, and far too permanent!"
"Okay, so if you're not ready for a sex change, an intensive diet plan would be a good start."
"Fine. Yeah, sure' But which one? There must be a thousand different ways to lose weight and twice that many people out there trying to tell you which is the best!"
"Why not ask a couple of the better 'dressers' in the Group how they do it? Some of them are real pretty. With a little advice and lots of hard work, you could maybe do the same."
"Yeah, maybe, but they started a lot earlier and the best are much younger. A couple are even pre-ops! I don't wanna be femme as much as...."
.."Look! You want me to be better looking, or at least presentable, don't you? Even if we never leave this apartment?"
"Uh.. yeah."
"So check an the diet idea for starters and we'll go from there. To provide some incentive, we could have a Group meeting here, say a few weeks before the big bash. I could even be the hostess! That way we can get some real-life help, and avoid the public outing you're so scared of."
"But that'd mean they'd all hafta come here!" I skipped over the diet idea like it never existed as an icy chill caressed my spine. "Most of those guys attend meetings in various degrees of attire ranging from full regalia down to just pantyhose under their regular male duds, like I usually do. If any of the regular dressers were 'read' I'd just die! And you know how scrupulously I avoid any public connection with such folk."
"Humph! I know all too well how paranoid you, but that's easily handled. Just ask them to bring their femme clothes and change here. There's plenty of room. Hey, ya know, that's not such a bad idea! You could call it a 'Help Your Buddy Dress-Up Social'. And it'll be my big 'coming out', too! Well, whatdaya say? Shall we start making party plans? And maybe boost your motivation to shed that excess tonnage of yours too."
Stunned at the ease with which my heartiest objections were brushed aside, I gave 'her' a qualified answer. "Well, I'll do it ... uh, the diet part, that is. It's long overdue anyway. And IF I can make good progress, then I'll consider the party idea."
That seemed to satisfy both of us for the time being.
So, with the decision made, I plunged into the often contradictory and overwhelmingly confusing world of nutrition with a fervor that surprised even me. Working it in around school and the office, I logged long hours in libraries and bookstores, plodding through reams of material on every diet from "A-vitamins" to "Weight Watchers". But it wasn't long until it became obvious that I'd be far better off seeking help rather than use trial and error to find a program that would work for me.
Considering that Lora was my main reason for wanting to lose weight, The Group was an obvious source of information. When I asked for their input and explained my reason (omitting the party idea for the moment), they were all very enthusiastic. Some who had similar problems even appeared to take my lead.
Over the next few weeks, The Group seemed to polarize into "dieters" and "diet helpers", the latter being mostly the more passable members. Unfortunately, at least for me, their suggestions were little or no help at all.
It was during this period of "diet research" that my landlady, Mrs. Galpin, that is, Aunt Lea, became a very large and important part of my life.
I loved the apartment and its spacious rooms, especially the second bedroom where Lora so quickly took up residence. But I had some initial concerns about privacy. Paranoid as I was about Lora, I dreaded the prospect of Lea interrupting my 'sessions', or even seeing my meager stash of Lora's clothes in the spare room's closet and dresser. To my great relief, my worries were totally unfounded. The main entrance to my flat was in the rear, and the front stairway through Lea's 'territory' stayed locked most of the time, with the dead bolt was on my side of the door. Besides, after that first day, I rarely ever saw Lea except when paying the rent on the first of each month.
As the days passed, I began to hear about folks whom Lea had helped in one way or another, mostly by her simply being there. The general consensus was that she was a "harmless ol' gal" who, like most 'widows' of her advanced years (??), wanted and enjoyed people's company and helped any way she could.
And I wondered, could she help me? My need was simple enough - I wanted to shed some weight (ignoring my primary motivation, of course). Maybe she had some counsel that'd help me with of the massive amount of information I had gleaned from other sources? Even after days, I hadn't decided what method would be easiest and fastest, and Aunt Lea was the only person I knew well enough to ask, aside from the already overly helpful fellas in The Group.
"0h, how nice of you to drop by, Mr. Rossman," Lea greeted me pleasantly.
"Evenin', Ma'am," I drawled.
"Will you stop with the 'Ma'am' stuff already!" she smiled. "I'd much prefer 'Aunt Lea', or just 'Lea'. In fact, now that I think of it, I'm not that much older than you are anyway. Make it 'Lea', okay? Why don't you come in for a spot of tea and we'll get better acquainted."
Up to now she had done all the talking and seemed intent on continuing to do so. "No, Mrs. .... uh, Lea, thanks.., I don't want to impose. It's just that..."
"Oh, it's no imposition at all. No, no, not in the least. Please do come in. We'll have a nice cup of hot tea and visit for a spell."
The thought of tea again made me wince, but I had come that far and was determined to see it through to the end, bitter tea and all!
This time, instead of the kitchen, I was ushered into what could only be called a parlor, though I never knew there was such a thing anymore. The room reeked of old-style 'Victorian' with its hand-woven rug, high-back chairs and divan, low hardwood coffee and end tables, and antique tasseled lamps. I had the distinct impression I'd walked into a 19th Century English manor house. The place was a museum setting, dominated by the huge stone fireplace with a marble mantel that held faded ancestral portraits in gilt frames. On the wall above hung a large oil painting of a beautiful young woman in a blue-black brocade gown straight out of the 17th-or-18th Centuries.
Dumbstruck by the dated decor, I sat uneasily an the heavy high backed couch until my hostess returned with a wheeled cart upon which was the most extravagant silver tea service I'd ever seen outside the display windows at Macy's.
"I only came to ask for a bit of advice, Ma'am," I groped inanely.
"Oh, please call me Lea, won't you Larry."
I slumped back into my seat. This woman was having me in for tea whether I liked it or not. Well, what the heck! I took the proffered saucer and cup, to which had been added two small tortes and a cookie that looked like a ginger snap with coconut on it.
Mrs. Gal .... Lea settled into a large chair facing me, saucer in hand. "Now that we're all comfy, what brings you visiting?"
After several sips of the pungent aromatic brew, I fumbled for words. "Well...ya see...I've been thinking about trying to loose some excess pounds and have been doing some research on diets. There's such a mess of contradictory stuff out there, that I thought... well, maybe you'd have some suggestion?"
One thin eyebrow arched questioningly. "That's a strange reason to come calling, Larry.... may I call you Larry? Good. So, what's this about a diet? You're an architect, aren't you? What has that to do with diets? You don't need it yourself."
"Thanks for saying so ... uh, but my doctor thinks otherwise." (Well, what do you expect? I had to explain my interest somehow!) "Trouble is, he's been awfully ambiguous about how I can shed the pounds, and there are so many fads making the rounds! I thought maybe you'd have a suggestion or two."
She stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm, by a fortunate coincidence, the person who preceded you upstairs had somewhat the same problem. She was a fanatic about her weight; always grumbling about having to diet all the time. I'm happy to say I did help her, but I'm not too sure, Larry, that you'd be as successful using the same system."
My eyes lit up with interest. "But I'd rather get your personal help than shell out umpteen bucks that I can't afford for something that may or may not work! If you can guarantee results, I'm game."
She stared at me for a moment. "Hmmm..., it would be interesting to see if you respond as well as she did, but there are a few things I'd have to work out first. And it takes a commitment you may not be willing to make."
"Whatever it is, I'll do it! What'll you charge me for your system?" I prodded nervously. "I can't afford much."
"Mercy me, Larry, you won't need to pay me a dime!" That, of course, made it all the better! "But its unique approach involves some complex preparations that I'll need some time to work out."
"How soon could you be ready?"
"Well, let's see." She paused to stare at her fingertip as it circled the rim of her teacup for several revolutions. "Maybe we could get you started within a couple of weeks."
"Great! Let's..."
"Just a moment, Larry, not so fast!" Her tone was suddenly stern. "Don't be too hasty. Relax and finish your tea. I want so much to know you better, and after all, you're living in my house." She cut off my protest. "Would it be so hard to sit and visit for a bit before we discuss your weight problem further? Of course not," she answered for me.
Settling back with her tea, she spent the next hour expertly probing me about work, school, my marriage and divorce, and professional and personal goals.
Resigned to the inevitable, I carefully repeated an edited version of my life, with very little additional detail. I tried to let her know in no uncertain terms that it was a sensitive issue, and she seemed happy that I revealed what I did. However, as the minutes passed, I found myself almost willing to reveal to her the most secret and embarrassing segments of my life. Somehow, I thought she'd understand, but I resisted the urge. Instead, I waded through a fabrication about chest pains and a doctor's demand that I lose weight, all to justify my asking for her advice.
"...and that's why I came to you, Lea. You've quite a reputation for helping people, so I figured it couldn't hurt to ask for your input,"
"It must be very difficult to return to school after so long," she mused, pulling the thread of our conversation along an alternate route. "And to lose your wife's affection and support, too. Tsk, tsk! I'm so sorry she failed you, Larry. A man in your situation needs a good caring woman to look after him.
"Yea, I suppose so. But I've been doin' pretty well. I'm certainly not helpless. Besides, my schedule is so hectic it would have been impossible to give her the time and attention she needed." (Another total fabrication, true, but it beat the truth!) "Janice was too almighty self-righteous for me anyway," I added testily. "In a way it's almost funny too, since now I'm much more relaxed without her constant haranguing. I'll certainly grant it's nice to have a wife about to do the cooking and cleaning, but if that's all I need, a maid could serve the same purpose, and maybe do it better."
Lea smiled. "What about sex? That's not usually listed among a maid's duties, and you're a healthy enough man, to be sure."
Her frank question and comment startled me. "W...W...Well, .uh..., I can do without if I have to. I haven't got time for amorous adventures right now anyway. And besides, I'm too shy to proposition anyone, and dating would take time I need for work and studies. I want my degree far more at the moment than I do sex."
"Good for you," Lea commended.
"But, according to medical science, if I don't shed some weight, ... well, that degree won't be much use if I keel over with a heart attack the day after I get it."
Aunt Lea began to clear away the remains of our tea. "It seems to me, Larry, that you have your priorities well in hand. A rather uncommon trait for a man in your situation, I must say. Most fellows would be out carousing, bar hopping, and terrorizing every skirt within miles." She piled dishes onto the heavy silver tray.
"May I help you with that?" I offered.
"You're very kind, but there's no need. I'll just be a moment." She pushed the cart toward the door, and was back before I could slip quietly away. "Oh, didn't you want to discuss our preparations?"
"Huh?" I blushed with embarrassment at my attempt to duck out and being caught at it. "Oh.., uh.. maybe I oughta just try some Dexatrim. I don't wanna put you to a lotta inconvenience."
"My dear Larry, it's no trouble whatever. You must realize, as Andrea did, that I'm always happy to help if I can."
"Who?"
"The previous occupant of your rooms."
"Oh." I wasn't too sure that Aunt Lea's help was what I needed or wanted, but I'd come this far. Why not find out what she could tell me about their success. "Was she the one you helped?"
"Yes indeed. She asked me about a diet, just as you have, so I did some research of my own and Andy agreed to try the program which I devised."
"Andy?"
"Huh? Oh, Andrea, of course. I called her 'Andy', ..we were very close," she mused. "Anyway, by the time she left to be married, she had developed into a lovely lithesome young lady. This is her wedding picture." Lea took a gilt-framed portrait from the small table nearby and held it up.
The bride in the picture was gorgeous in her white lace gown. Long thick waves of golden blond hair tumbled over her pale shoulders. A silver chain hung from her slim throat and the tiny locket sat at the top of a generous cleavage formed by the bodice's efforts to contain her lovely, full bosum. Her face radiated sweetness and beauty. What a luscious woman!
Pulling my enraptured gaze back to my hostess with an effort, I swallowed my heart and said, "I gather Andrea was pleased with the results?"
"Oh, quite pleased, I assure you." With a strange sidelong glance at me she added sweetly, "I so love to make people happy. Andy's such a lovely young lady, don't you think?" she prompted, returning the picture to the table.
"Yes, she's very pretty, but what was she like before the diet:"
"Unfortunately, we neglected to take a 'before' picture, but she certainly would never have been able to wear that gown at the time, I assure you. Andrea was neither attractive nor thin. In fact, I'm sorry to say that if you'd seen her then the term 'dog' might have fit Andy's appearance all too appropriately. However, as you can see, the results were quite remarkable."
I glanced at the portrait once more and sensed poor Lora turning green with envy. The thought flitted through my mind that that female body was exactly the image I'd love to see in my own mirror.
When I looked up, Lea was staring at me, a thin brow raised questioningly. "S..So..," I stammered, "what can you tell me about this diet of yours?"
"Well, there's a considerable amount of preparation required..uhmmm.., and some rather obscure potions ... uh, I mean portions of the formula that I'll need to procure for the.."
"Sounds like some sort of witch's brew you're cooking' up," I laughed.
My levity was lost on her. Instead, she froze and glared at me for an instant. "I'm hardly a witch, Mr. Rossman," she rebuked me sharply. Then her tone changed and she smiled as my intent registered. "..heehee.., yes, I guess you'd get that impression, and I'll admit that it's no simple matter to prepare my special compote, especially since it can and will be formulated specifically for your personal needs. And YOU'LL be especially pleased with the results, Larry, I guarantee it."
"How can you do that? Even doctors use some basic strategy to build from when designing a program for their patients."
Lea waggled a long thin finger at me. "Tsk tsk, now! No asking for my secrets, and I wouldn't tell anyway. Now, are you really serious about this, and do you really want my help?"
I shrugged. "Yeah, ..sure... I.. have to start somewhere. Besides, if it doesn't work, there are a hundred others."
"But none that give you such personalized attention; nor are any of them free. Right?" I nodded. "And I truly believe that, with the proper commitment, you'll get incredible results." She was grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
"Are you sure you want to go to so much trouble just for me, Mrs. Galpin?"
"It's my pleasure, Larry. What are friends for if not to help each other? Uh.., however, in order to achieve the best results, I will require that you do a couple of things for me."
"Sure, what?"
Somewhat hesitantly, she replied, "First, you'll have to do exactly as I say, no questions asked, no objections, and no hesitation. Your commitment must be total and your trust in me absolute."
"All on faith, huh?"
"Right! "
"Uh.., okay, I guess. Is that all?"
"No. You must also arrange your affairs so that you can remain here for at least one month, since during a period of about four weeks you will not be able to leave the house. In effect, you'll be under quarantine. No visitors either." Her expression was so serious I had to believe she meant it.
"That's a bit bizarre, don't you think? I've never heard of a diet that laid you up for ANY amount of time, much less a month!"
"Nonetheless, it's necessary for several reasons which I'll not discuss beforehand. Can you make the proper arrangements?"
I did some hurried schedule juggling in my head. Getting time off from work was only a minor problem since I'd practically worked myself out of a job already anyhow, though losing a month's pay was an unpleasant prospect. The current school term, and the last of my academic classes (thank God!), would be over soon, with the 'research' term next and my Senior Thesis due at its end. Then graduation!
Finally, I responded, "Yeah, I can get the time off work easily enough, and the term will be over soon. After that, I'll need lots of time to work on my final project anyway. In fact, that'll be ideal. Yeah!"
As the prospect of all that free time and what I could accomplish with it grew clearer, I began to get excited. I was so close to finishing my project, anyway! Everything I needed was there in my rooms just waiting to be organized and written up. Yes, indeed, that month of solitude would be just about perfect for finishing my work and polishing it into something special.
"Very well, Larry." Lea's faint smile turned to grim concern. "But I must remind you, this treatment of mine is extremely potent, so much so that you'll be laid up in bed for a good portion of that month. In fact, Andy slept a good deal of the time, and said it was like having a bad case of flu for an eternity...!"
That wasn't a very pleasant thought, nor did it sound like a very conventional diet, not by a long shot. I could probably set up my computer by the bed and manage well enough, but... "Uh .... I'm really beginning to wonder if maybe something like Dexatrim might be the safer course after all. It'd sure be a lot less trouble than spending a month in bed."
She fixed me with a withering stare. "Larry, do you really truly want to lose those pounds?"
"Well.., yeah, sure!"
"Then you must accept my help on my conditions. I guarantee you'll be just as satisfied with the results as was Andy! I'm so sure of success, Larry, that I'll give you that month rent free, and I'll personally provide all your meals, along with whatever else you might need while you're sequestered in your rooms. That way you'll have no money worries due to the lost time from work, and I'll be able to more closely monitor your progress." She paused, watching me intently. When I showed no sign of reaching a decision, she prompted," Well, what's your decision?"
I'd heard of Lea's legendary generosity, of course, but... "I'm very grateful for your offer, Lea, but why would you want to go to such lengths for me? After all, we hardly know one another." The whole situation seemed beyond my control. Getting down to a reasonable 'Lora weight' was extremely appealing, but then again...
Lea's laugh wrinkles deepened. "You want to do this, don't you? Certainly, it sounds odd, and maybe it is, a little. But is it any stranger than living on seaweed or wheat germ or checking into some high-priced 'spa.' and getting nothing for it except an empty bank account?" Her voice turned soft. "Under any of those supposedly successful programs it would take several months for you to lose fifty pounds, if it worked at all. I'm offering you results in weeks instead of months, and it won't cost you a dime!"
"I'm sorry for sounding negative," I replied sheepishly, "but those established systems have proof that what they offer works." Here I knew I must tread carefully. "I like you, Lea, even though we've barely spoken before, but all I have as proof that your program is any good is your word and a picture of an attractive woman I've never, met."
"I understand your hesitance quite well, Larry, quite well indeed." Lea appeared soothed as her deep gray eyes studied me carefully. "I'm offering you my help, free and clear, without obligation. It's for you to decide whether you want it or not. But, to be practical, what have you got to lose?"
What indeed? That little white-haired lady sat patiently while I considered her question. If it worked as she 'guaranteed', I could have it all. 'Lora' would be thoroughly pleased, I'd get my thesis done; all the miseries of my "mid- thirties crises" would be well on their way to oblivion, and I'd be well along the road to a new and happier life with a trimmer image and a "degreed" career.
"Okay!" I blurted before second thoughts interfered. "If you're willing to help, I'll accept it." Once committed, I always followed my decisions through, and this was a major one.
"Wonderful!" Aunt Lea's happy smile stretched from ear to ear as she reached out and clasped my hands warmly. "Oh, it'll be just like having dear sweet Andy back again. Mmmm.., let me see, ...oh, there's so much to do!" She patted my hand maternally. "Now, Larry, I want you to arrange your affairs as we've discussed. Let's see..., I can be ready by Sunday next. Will that give you enough time?"
"Yeah, sure, ...I suppose. When summer term ends next week, I'll be done with formal class work and my final project's not due for several more weeks. That allows for your month-long program with time to spare."
"Perfect! Now, run along ..." She ushered me toward the stairs. "I'll begin preparations at once. Oh, this will be such fun!" she gushed as the door shut between us.
Term finals and arrangements at work where a few projects needed last minute attention made the following days leading up to Lea's 'treatment' too hectic for me to bother worrying over whether or not I was making a huge mistake. Besides, all the evidence simply reinforced my growing sense that she was honest and worthy of my trust. Plus, having decided, there seemed no reason not to proceed. After all, as Lea so pointedly stated, what did I have to lose?
Several days before the date she had set to begin my 'program', I announced at a Group meeting that I was getting serious and had enrolled in a weight program. Their general reaction was predictably enthusiastic, although I dodged or coolly ignored several inquiries about the nature of my 'program' selection.
"When can we meet Lora?" asked one of the 'passers'.
I swallowed hard. "If and when she's presentable, I'll let you know, promise. But I can't be any more specific," I stated flatly, "except that I'll be back in a few weeks to report on my progress," adding 'or failure' under my breath.
Late Sunday morning, Aunt Lea rapped gently on my door. "Larry, if you're ready to get started I'll need you to come downstairs."
You'd better believe I was ready. I'd been up practically all night waiting for her knock like a six-year-old on Christmas morning. I opened the door with a shaky hand, gave her a nervous nod and followed her back down into her parlor where the silver tea service was already laid out. Once again seated nervously on the high-backed divan, I smiled to myself while she fussed with the ritualistic preparation, wondering if she lived on the stuff.
"Nervous, Larry?" she probed with an eager grin.
"Yeah, a little," I admitted, though not too sure why.
She handed me a steaming cup. "You needn't be, you know. You'll be amazed at how quickly the time will pass."
I promptly burnt my tongue on the hot brew, but the flavor was almost pleasant. It was a bit too sweet, but still a welcome change from the acidic bitterness of previous servings. "Uh...., My project will give me plenty to do, Lea. (Sip) I'm mostly concerned about what's in store for me that's supposed to be such a radical departure from the more conventional systems."
"And rightly so," she agreed.
"So what is it? Pills? Vitamins? ...what?"
Her familiar smile widened. "Oh, nothing so complicated, Larry, at least not for me, since I have certain means at my disposal which allow me to...help my friends. Andy asked for and received my help, of course, as you know, and so shall you!" She stated the last words with a hard commanding edge to her voice.
I relaxed into the overstuffed sofa, as the comfortable warmth of the tea in my stomach seemed to wash over me. My vision blurred slightly as Lea leaned close to peer into my bleary eyes.
"Ah yes, most satisfactory, my dear Larry. How do you feel?"
My tongue felt like a balloon in my mouth. "Urgsnghfd.." I garbled.
"It's just the tea, my dear," she grinned. "Now listen very carefully."
I nodded, since my mouth no longer worked. This wasn't at all what I expected. Vitamins, high-protein low-volume meals, maybe even fasting, but not drugged tea for God's sake! I was fully conscious and aware but no longer able to react in any way except by moving my head slightly.
My benefactor directed, "Larry, stand up, please, and follow me."
Without conscious control of my actions, I stood as instructed. Resisting didn't help as I followed Lea to the end of the hallway, through a locked door, and down a steep flight of narrow wooden steps into a brick walled basement. This was no typical dank cold cramped cellar. The large room we entered was thickly carpeted, spacious, warmed by the roaring blaze in a huge stone fireplace, and contained only a single piece of furniture. The lone ladder-backed hardwood chair sat in the midst of a star-shaped design that occupied the center area of the thick pile rug. It was a pentagram!! That room looked for all the world like a witches' lair, except it all seemed too spartan. There were no candles, no bubbling cauldrons, no satanic icons or mystical runes, except for the star designed into the carpet's fabric.
"Sit there, please," Lea pointed to the only possible object of her request.
I did.
Lea faced me, standing with her toes just beyond one of the star's points. "Now, Larry, I'm sure you have many questions you'd like answered." Whatever she had planned wasn't worth this kind of aggravation, but I could only use my eyes to plead for release.
"You recall," she continued, "that a moment ago I mentioned certain means which I possess by which I help my friends." I managed a slightly frantic and very sweaty nod. "Well, Larry, to put it quite simply, I am a very talented though rather harmless WHITE WITCH. Yes indeed, it is a shock, isn't it? I can see the doubt in your expression, but I assure you that a witch is exactly what I am. Even for those who acknowledge the existence of people like me, the general notion of my 'craft is rather negative, and it's unfortunate that a few bad episodes can ruin all the good my profession does. Oh, yes indeed, Larry, witchcraft is a profession, and a very noble one. That's why I live as I do." She gestured expansively toward the ceiling and her home above. "I've made it my life's work to accomplish what good I can in this world, and, as you know, I've been fairly successful." She beamed happily, "Now, I shall use my expertise to help you, so you need not fear, dear, Larry."
Lea the Witch made a complicated motion involving fingers, wrists, and arms, after which I found that I had a voice again. "Awk! God, Lea, you've gone 'round-the bend! There's no such..." My fogged brain abruptly made the connection between her gesture and my voice's restoration. "...oh.., shit!"
"Please, Larry, no vulgarity."
I could talk but nothing else would work. I was held in that chair as securely as if bound with chains. "Why all this just to help me lose weight?" I blurted.
"Oh, my dear," she remarked, "we both know there's much more to it than that."
"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?" Being glued to that seat didn't prevent me from breaking out in a cold sweat.
"It means," she declared evenly, "that I know about Lora, and I'm going to help you both."
I sat stunned into shock at the realization that yet another "outsider" had discovered my alter ego, my 'hobby'. "H-H-How'd you find out?" I finally stammered.
She shrugged indifferently. "It was child's play to learn what you used that second bedroom for."
"All right..", I whined miserably, "so I'm a flaming pervert who likes to dress up in women's clothes, and want to look better while doing it. What's that have to do with your treating me this way?"
"Everything, my unhappy friend, just simply everything. And I don't for one instant believe that you are a pervert. No not at all! Unhappy? Maybe. Frustrated? Possibly. Certainly confused. I understand you far better than you know, and I'll prove it."
She folded her arms across her ample chest and held my gaze with her gleaming gray eyes. "You were painfully introverted as a youngster. A loner with a passive nature in the rugged social structure of boyhood, you were ostracized; picked on, bullied. You sought desperately for escape from the torture of your social role, and soon observed that girls need not be hard and tough. In fact, they were expected to be gentle, mild mannered, and passive.
"Realizing that you fit better into what appeared to you to be their docile sensitive world, you decided that you should have been born female."
My mind reeled at the clarity with which Lea voiced what I had thought and felt for so long.
"Apparently," she continued, "your identification with girls was muted somewhat as you matured and married. But the recent upheaval in your life, especially the loneliness, was the fuel that fired your desire to finally make yourself, at least occasionally, into an imperfect likeness of the woman you would like to have been."
She paused long enough for me to absorb her words, then asked, "Well, isn't that pretty close to the mark? Did I just describe Larry Rossman?"
I responded in a subdued whisper. "All too accurately. You seem to understand me better than I do myself."
"Yes, I know. People are usually quite unsuccessful at making impartial judgements when it comes to self-analysis, so it often takes an outside observer to help gain a true understanding. After all, that's how psychiatrists and psychologists make a very comfortable living, you know." She paid very deliberate attention to the placement of her feet just beyond the star point in the carpet. "Now that we've had this pleasant little chat, let's begin your treatment, shall we?"
Her eyes widened dramatically as she clasped her hands together as if about to pray.
"Wait!" I cried. "What're you doing?"
"Exactly what I did for Andy, my dear, Larry. I'm helping you, just like you wanted me to." Lea's lips quivered slightly and a pale reddish light filled the chamber.
"M..Maybe I'd better just take the Dexatrim, if it's all the same to you."
"No more talk!" Her sweet smile never wavered as a simple flick of one little finger silenced me, literally!
The power Lea seemed able to command defied explanation, unless she really was a witch! Which could also explain why it was so easy for her to achieve her reputation as the community's resident 'Good Samaritan'? A spell here, a charm there, a well-placed incantation, and PRESTO, instant solutions! My invisible bonds were proof enough, but I also had to wonder why she was going to such lengths for me.
Then I remembered that picture of Andrea in her lace wedding gown, and finally connected it with some of Lea's comments. I'd asked for the same kind of help as her? My thoughts took a crazy twist ... Was she..? Could her name have really been A..A..Andrew?!?
"Yes, it was," Lea stated emphatically. I realized my lips had mimed that name. "Now relax, Larry. I'm about to make your dreams come true." Arms extended toward me, palms down and fingers fluttering, she began a long serious of unintelligible incantations and rhythmic chants.
Fortunately for my sanity, I don't recall much of what followed. While Lea continued her conjuring the reddish light phased into a dazzling pink brilliance. I could no longer feel the chair, nor did I care, as a pleasant sense of floating propelled me upward through fluffy pink clouds and brilliant white beams of light. Flower petals rode upon the gentle breeze which also bore and me along, and the sun's rays were warm and soothing. I was entranced, awed, and thoroughly content. It was a beautiful, soothing ride and seemed to last forever.
{continued}
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