Frankie and His Gurl, Part 4: Jock Tease

Frankie and his Gurl, Part 4: “Jock Tease”

by julee
cdtale@hotmail.com


@)~%~;’~`~

I was staring in the window of a Victoria’s Secret when I saw Billy Mills’ reflection. He was approaching with a tall redheaded girl. They stopped and Billy laughed at me.

“Shopping for your girlfriend, dude?” he said. I almost laughed but then he said, “Or your boyfriend?”

He didn’t know about my female life. I put on my best male voice and said, “At least I buy my dates something.”

“Think you’re funny, little wiseass?” said Billy.

He grabbed me by my collar and pulled me down an alley by the store. I prayed his girlfriend would talk some sense into him. She didn’t.

Billy punched me in the stomach and pushed me against a Dumpster.

“Get out of my sight,” he said. “Or I’ll ring your scrawny little neck. You dork!”

Billy walked on with his girlfriend. She acted like nothing had happened. Billy Mills, big junior class cretin, thinks he’s tough shit.

Dazed I started to walk home. I had been upbeat all day; now I was just plain beat up. But after getting roughed up by Billy I felt like a sniveling weakling; instead of femme I felt like an effeminate weakling.

I even thought about canceling Karen’s lesson. It was Tuesday, and tonight Frankie’s cousin Karen would give me a femme tutorial. But when eight o’clock came, I went.

I told Karen what had happened.

“Oh hon. Being a sweet thing like you sure has its downside. Are you all right?”

I said nothing, just fumed.

“I got an idea. We’ll combine it with tonight’s lesson.” She brought me blank sheets of floral stationery and a red pen. “Write about what happened to you today and what you’d like to do about it.”

“Write it down? Why?” I asked confused.

“It’ll be therapeutic. Don’t you think?”

“I guess. But … what does it have to do–?

“Oh, I forgot to explain. You’ll be doing it in girl’s handwriting.”

“Oh.”

She handed me some pages with feminine writing on them. “Here’s some letters I wrote. Some of Lissa’s too. Feminine handwriting can be different with each girl, but there are things in common.”

“I know.” I looked at the letters. I had always noticed how rounded and softer a girl’s penmanship was. I had tried it before but I wasn’t ready yet.

Karen always said that femininity started with feminine thinking. I kept that in mind as I began writing about my run-in with Billy Mills.

I felt humiliated, so I internalized it the way a girl would. After a couple of sentences the words in bright red ink formed easily in curly, rounded letters. The trick is not to force it. Write as fast as possible and tap into the natural flow. It was similar to finding the right vocal register.

Although some of my letters and numbers were still a little rough, most of them came out fluently and appeared genuinely feminine.

I finished and handed it to Karen. As she read she said, “Good, good. Pretty consistent, too.”

She read some more, and suddenly the paper began to shake.

“Jesus Christ!” she said. “You didn’t tell me this.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t tell me it was Billy Mills.” She snapped the paper closed. “That creep tried to … to rape me.”

“Really? That bastard,” I said. “When? Where?”

“Never mind the details. But I had to run over a mile in my blouse and panties, barefooted, till I got to a house where people gave me something to wear so I could get home. It was horrifying. Now I just want to forget about it.”

“Why didn’t you tell someone?”

“I was going to. Then–Look, who am I? Do you know anything about the Mills family? And I had no proof. I decided to forget about it, move on.”

“I’m so sorry about what happened, Karen. But you haven’t
forgotten about it. You know that.”

“Look, everything’s cool now, okay? I’m just still … angry, that’s all.”

“I know, I know.”

Still somber, a tear welling in her eye, she said, “Your handwriting, it’s really good, hon.”

“Thanks,” I said, but it didn’t really matter. “Karen?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t stand to see you hurt.”

“Yeah. Well, we both got our problems. Too bad it’s because of the same little prick.”

“You’ll just blame yourself.”

“I said yes when he asked me out. So … maybe I have someone to blame.”

“That’s not right either.”

“I know. But this discussion is over, okay?”

“Okay. But you’ve been helping me with the ‘girl pointers’ and clothes and all. I feel I owe you.”

“If I need a favor I’ll let you know. But one of the reasons I do this is for my cousin, so you’ll be femme for him. And kind of because of that day you and me and my friends … “
She smiled. “Well, you remember. I had fun then. Though I feel guilty about leaving Frankie out of it. And anyway I’m helping you cause that’s kinda fun, too. You don’t owe me.”

“Whatever,” I said. “But if there’s ever anything I can do, promise you’ll tell me?”

“I will.” She sniffled. “But there’s nothing …” Her voice trailed off as if she just realized something. Then she said, “Nah. Forget it.”

“Girl, tell me,” I said.

A smile began to spread on her face. “Oh God this would be like too awesome.”

“What?”

“Oh, Julie baby, we gotta do this!”

“Do what?”

Her face was close to mine now. “I got an idea how to fix that bastard’s ass,” she said. “And you’re going to help.”

@)~%~;’~`~

My mother was at work. Frankie and I lay next to each other on my bed. I was clad in a sheer purple teddy and matching G-string Karen had given me. Legs and feet uncovered. Frankie wore only boxer shorts.

He played idly with the small, dark birthmark near my inside upper thigh area, deep in thought.

He and I had been about to make love when I broached the subject of his cousin and our plan to get Billy Mills. I had just finished telling Frankie about it, and how he could help.

“No way,” he said. “We’ll get in trouble. And maybe get beat up.”

“No we won’t. Not if we’re careful. It’ll be easy.” I wasn’t quite sure about that. But because it was for Karen, I welcomed the challenge.

“Maybe I won’t get beat up,” said Frankie. “And Karen neither. But I’m afraid for you. You got the dangerous part.”

He was right about that. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to me. Or you or Karen.”

“But something happening to you is already part of the plan.”

“No, Frankie. You don’t get it. The whole point is that nothing happens.”

“Okay,” he said, but didn’t mean it.

“And it’s Billy Mills,” I said. “I thought you told me you didn’t like him.”

“I said I wouldn’t want to be with someone like him. And no I don’t like him either. But I don’t either like that he’s gonna … try something with you.”

“I know,” I said. “But it’s for Karen. And me, too.”

“Julie … would you ever leave me flat for somebody like Billy?”

I tisked. “Frankie, he beat me up.”

“You didn’t answer. I mean, he’s four years older than me. He’s experienced.”

I hated that I was suddenly thinking of Billy’s large blue eyes and wavy brown hair. I shook the thought from my mind. “No,” I said. “Never. Billy’s a sociopath.”

“A socio–what?”

“Crazy.”

“Then stay away from him.”

“If you don’t want to help, hon, that’s okay. We’ll get someone else.”

Frankie sighed. “Lemme think about it, okay?”

“‘Kay,” I said, a little miffed.

We lay in silence for another minute, and suddenly I felt a hand touch the area between my thigh and my tummy.

My mood began to change, focused on the stirring in my genitalia. My cheeks rapidly warmed. But then I still had Karen’s and my problem on my mind and I couldn’t find the mood.

@)~%~;’~`~

Friday

Karen wore a black sweater and short pleated skirt.