Message-ID: <18089eli$9812180448@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: tigger@alices.com (Tigger) Subject: Tales of the Season: Darla's Story (TG) 3 of 6 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: tigger@alices.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <3679aff1.11914963@news.erols.com> Tales of the Season - Darla's Story by Tigger copyright 1998, all rights reserved. Part 3: Darla sat demurely in the "hot seat" in front of Jane's massive antique desk. The child had to be a natural mimic and actress, Jane thought. *No* one would ever think that the person seated there had been, no more than three weeks ago, a rough and tumble young male. Even his most subtle gestures were becoming noticeably more feminine. In the days since Maria had begun the girl's requested cosmetics training, Jane had done her level best to get a rise out of the child, but not even her best, most pointed, male- ego-deflating jibes elicited any real reaction. When compared to a blond bimbo, the girl merely became more calm. When teased about her sudden "interest" in girlish activities such as make up and hair care, she brushed it aside as just one or two more things she needed to do in order to satisfy Jane. Which it didn't. Satisfy Jane, that is. How could she rebuild him into a decent, mature man if she couldn't find the key to taking apart his obviously overblown adolescent male self image? Darla had been in her care for almost three weeks and Jane had yet to get a single reaction from the boy consistent with her plans or her experience. It was maddening. It was also frightening. "I asked you in here, Darla, to discuss your future with you." Jane said somewhat sternly. "Frankly I am not sure I am going to be able to help you. A great deal of my program has always involved the assistance of my senior student while the junior student did not know that the senior was also a petticoated boy. You are now under two distinct disadvantages, so far as my program helping you. First, you know that Stephanie was a boy and two, you no longer have an older sister to help me guide you along." Darla repressed an urge to swallow and schooled her features not to let her inner fear show. "Surely, Aunt Jane, you have had single student situations before. There had to be a first student, after all." "Hmmmm, yes, just so, and we've been trying those strategies since Stephanie left us so precipitously. However, over the past few days Maria and I have been trying that particular program variation with you with little or no effect." Darla thought about the last week and wanted to scream. There had been the tea party with that society matron who all but rapped his knuckles with her cane whenever she saw the slightest departure from feminine gentility. God only knew what the old lady would have done if he'd slipped up and shown himself as a male. Then there was that guy who had come over for dinner with all his snide little innuendos and nasty teasing "compliments". As much as Darla had longed to retaliate, at least in kind, he hadn't dared because he might be forced to leave, and it had still been too soon. Here Darla had spent the past week using every ounce of will power and control to do precisely as he was told and to be the best girl he could be, and now after all that effort, here she was telling him it somehow wasn't good enough for her?!? "Does that mean you are going to send me back to jail?" he finally managed to get out in a shaky voice. Interesting, Jane thought. *That* was a reaction. Is Maria correct? Is she *that* afraid of jail? "We need to talk about that, dear." "I've been doing my very best, Aunt Jane. Really I have. If you could just tell me where I am falling short, I will work ever so hard to correct that." Darla said in a very feminine rush. "I *really* do want to stay here." Jane pinched the bridge of her nose against the tension headache that was building behind her eyes. "I *know* that, Darla. Still, I must tell you that I am not sure that you are going to benefit from my methods." Real tears cut black mascara swathes though the carefully applied foundation and rouge. "If you could just tell me what I am doing wrong, Aunt Jane, I would do anything to correct myself for you." What a coil, Jane thought dejectedly. How do you tell someone that what she is doing wrong is that she is doing everything much too well? What am I going to say to her? Start screwing up a bit more, and oh by the way, if you could just manage a bit of male boorishness so that I could correct and embarrass you? Oh, and don't forget to be properly humiliated when I try to humiliate you. And yet, none of that was Darla's fault. There was no question that she was doing everything she could to follow Jane's many rules. Goodness, during their latest trip to the Marisha Chalet, the girl had all but badgered poor Caro into showing her more of her cosmetic tricks to improve the skills she had already learned from Maria. She closed her eyes hard against the steadily worsening headache. The failure was hers, not Darla's, and sending her back to Judge Ruth was, just as Maria kept haranguing her, patently unfair. But how could she convince herself the child was reformed if none of her tried and true methods and indicators worked with this student? "Darla, I truly want to help you growing into the kind of person you have shown every potential of becoming. And I know that sending you to jail won't do that, but thus far into the program, you are unique in my experience. I just don't know if I *can* help you." "So what will you do, Aunt Jane?" Darla asked in a quiet, breathless voice. "Keep you. For now, anyway. We will continue with your lessons in deportment, manners and presentation." Even though you could practically teach each of those disciplines, Jane mused. "And we will see what we will see." She began to dismiss the girl, and then halted herself. "Darla? Why are you trying so hard?" Surprise flickered on the feminine young face. "Don't all of your students? Try hard, I mean?" Usually, Jane thought, but only after they have been through the hellish first weeks and are more in touch with the gentler, more feminine side of their personalities. "You are particularly determined, dear. I'd like to know why. Is it really the fear of jail?" Another look of surprise slipped past Darla's guard, and she hesitated momentarily. "Well, yes, Aunt Jane, of course I am." she said with overly dramatic emphasis. Then, as if realizing that had been an error, she rushed on to add. "Remember, I was in a gang, and several of the older members had spent time in prison. I have heard all the horror stories. They really do scare me." Of course they do, Jane repeated mentally, except if that is the problem, why did you have to think about it? "All right, dear. Please go change into your ballet shoes and tutu. Maria will be overseeing your practice at the barre today. I want you to work particularly hard on the basic positions. Hopefully, we will have you en pointe in a couple of weeks. Darla rose. "Thank you, Aunt Jane." she said emotionally, gave a quick curtsey and hurried from the room. ~--------------~ Darla made an expansive movement with her free hand as she steadied herself by gripping the long railing that went the length of Jane's dance parlor. She looked for all the world like a young girl fully into the intricate steps and presentation of ballet, but her mind was a million miles away. Jane was thinking of sending her away - back to where . . to where he came from. To jail. Or worse. At a sharp command from Maria, Darla slid gracefully into a deep pli‚ and held it for a five count before rising slowly and shifting into the first position. It was time to begin preparing for that eventuality, Darla decided. Whatever else might happen, he could not face what would be in store for him if Jane gave up on him. DAMN Jane, Darla fumed. Wasn't she trying hard? She was staying *up* late every damned night practicing her cosmetics, her movements, her mannerisms, her voice inflections. Why couldn't Jane simply come out and tell her what it was that she wanted from Darla that she wasn't getting. He could do it. He *would* do it because he *had* to do it. If it could be done at all. Why couldn't things stay as they were? Jane and Maria made him feel safe. If only they knew what a rare and wondrous gift that really was. Darla would do almost *anything* not to jeopardize that. Which was exactly the danger Stephanie's father posed for them all - he threatened the anonymity Jane required for her program to function. Which was doubly a problem for Darla. If Jane was exposed, and he was still here, he'd be exposed, too. And a story like this would go national, very quickly. It would be just too juicy, to easy for TV reporters or guys like Leno to make snide little one-liner jokes about. Within days, everyone in the country would know about Ms. Jane Thompson and her girls' school for wayward boys. Another reason to get ready to leave, he told himself. It wasn't just his skin anymore. ~------------~ "Wow, Momma-Jane. And that was just a few days ago? You really were in a pickle. She is really that good, that quickly? And she really doesn't react to your games at all?" "No, Michelle, not at all. The only things she's reacted to was the threat of going to jail and being run over by the clod at the mall, and the result of that was she gained an unusually high degree of confidence in her disguise and in her ability to carry it off. She *knows* she can pass under very close scrutiny now. You are the only student I have ever had who was better at the masquerade than she is, and it took you months to get where she has gotten in just a few weeks." "Maybe she really *wants* to be a girl." Michael offered. "You mean as in SRS? I had not considered that, but it might explain a great deal. How do you embarrass someone with their chosen self image and sexuality?" Jane pondered it for a moment. "Still, I don't think that is it - at least not quite. Some part of the puzzle is still missing." "And the only time she reacts at all negatively is when you discuss her leaving?" A soft teasing chuckle caressed Jane's ear and warmed her tired soul. "Maybe she has decided she loves you and wants to be with you. That is why she's working so hard." "Right," was Jane's sardonic response. Keep on believing such winsome thoughts, love. Well, I guess I have to keep her. If she is playing a game, trying to convince me she is already reformed, she is doing an excellent job of it." "Maybe Judge Ruth made a mistake and she does not really need to be reformed at all." That drew a chuckle from Jane. "Right. Well, darling, I have to go. You are leaving St. Andrews tomorrow morning?" "Day after tomorrow, actually. A little after ten in the morning. You sure you don't want me to stop by? Janice's and my schedules are pretty flexible. I could easily spare a few days for my favorite Evil Stepmother." "Oh, you!" Jane laughed. "Just be here in time for college to start in the fall, okay? And have some *fun* with that delightful chatterbox you fell in love with." "MOMMA JANE!!!" Michael complained loudly. "Yes, darling? Don't worry, Michael. Have a wonderful time with your Janice. Ta, love. I have to run. Thank you for calling and for caring." ~------------~ "Jane?" Maria's voice cut through Jane's fatigue-fogged mind as she tried to think of yet some other new way to deal with Darla. Since her talk with the girl three days ago, Darla had, if anything, become even *more* determined to be perfect in her role as one of Jane's girl students. It was getting to the point where *Jane* had to remind *herself* that Darla was actually a boy. "Jane?" Maria said again, louder as she tried to get her friend's attention. "What is it, Maria?" she finally asked. "Have you done something with a couple of the wigs? The long, blond one you use when you want them to play Heidi in braids and the short black pageboy? I was going to brush them out and put them back in storage but now I can't find them anywhere." "I don't have them." Jane replied, still distracted. "When did you see them last?" "A few days ago, when I was giving Darla lessons in hair care and makeup." "Did you check Darla's room?" "Of course. They aren't there." Jane shrugged. "Well, they are around somewhere." What Jane was going to say was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. "Hello? Oh, hello, Mrs. Evans, how are you? Good. What can I do for you?" "Ms. Thompson, I should have called you sooner. I am sorry I did not warn you that my ex-husband was coming after you. I do apologize for that. I was actually hoping that he'd understand that what you were doing with Stephan was something our son needed." "He didn't." Jane said flatly. "More than that, he threatened me and everyone who has ever been a part of my program." "I know." The woman paused audibly, and then pressed on. "And that is why I am calling you. Stephan called me last night, Jane, and he thinks his father has decided to expose you publicly regardless of the consequences to Stephan." "For god's sake, why??? I thought he understood the potential damage to his son's reputation? Didn't he say he wanted Stephanie to succeed him?" "*Stephan* told me that his father is so disgusted with his gentle and caring behavior - my words, not his - that he has about decided his son is a lost cause. He can't go after me because I still control a significant piece of the voting stock in his company, but there is very little I can do to stop him from going after you. You evidently did your job very well, Jane. Stephan is exactly the gentle man you promised he'd be. Unfortunately, his father wanted a shark." "So he is going to sacrifice his son to get to me." Jane said with evident disgust. "That is Stephan's belief. For what it is worth, Jane? He told me he did not care about himself because he doesn't want what his father has. He *did* want me to warn you so that you could be prepared for what is likely to happen." "Thank you for that, Deirdre. Anything else?" Ice literally hung from each word. "N. . . no, Jane. That is all, except. . . I am sorry for this. I never even considered he'd want his custody rights this year. In truth, I had actually forgotten he even had those rights from the decree." "Guess we both know he does now, don't we." Jane replied acidly. "Deirdre, I have to go and do what I can do to protect my friends and students. Thank you for calling. . . . . . . .This time." and she slammed the phone down onto the cradle. "Bitch!" Jane growled. "I guess that means it is all over and I go back to start my jail sentence." came a soft, not-femininely inflected voice. Jane's head snapped up and saw Darla standing in the doorway to the office. One look at the chalk white face told Jane that her student had heard more than enough to know what was going down. Everything inside Jane rebelled against this young man facing prison. Regardless of what the evidence presented against him in court *proved*, there was now absolutely no doubt in her mind that the conviction was a miscarriage of justice. And Jane was going to see justice was done. "No, you're not." Jane said emphatically. "Maria, call Caro and Sandy. Tell them I want them here tomorrow to do a tear down on Darla." Maria nodded and left the office. "Tear down?" Darla asked. Smiling sadly, Jane gestured Darla over to the cozy conversation grouping next to the fireplace. "It sounds worse than it is, dear. That is our little phrase for undoing all the little feminizing touches that made Darryl into Darla. Sandy and Caro are almost as good at undoing as they are at doing." "What happens next?" "I tell Judge Ruth that I consider you completely rehabilitated and then I find someone, probably one of my former students, to take you in and see to your education for me while I deal with the fallout from Mr. Evans' attack." "I don't understand. You told me that you didn't think you could help me just a few days ago. And today you are setting me free?" "Sounds strange, doesn't it? You just didn't fit my preconceptions, Darla. . . I mean Darryl. You were here because you had been convicted of felony with a deadly weapon, but your behavior didn't fit. Instead of being argumentative, you were reasonable. Instead of being combative, you were cooperative. You listened and you always tried your best. Your composure is almost inhuman. None of which matches with the aggressive, violence-prone personality that your conviction indicated. When you did not respond to my humiliation ploys, and in fact, seemed to thrive, I was afraid you were immune to my program. I have just now reached the conclusion that you are actually immune - not because you are beyond my help, but because you don't need my help. Not that way in any case." Jane stood and went over to the small wet bar and poured two snifters of brandy. She handed one to Darla. "I know you are under age, but I think we both need a medicinal draft. Sip it, dear. It is a little strong if you aren't used to it." They sat in silence as they sipped the strong amber liquid. "Darla?" Jane asked. "Could you tell me the real story? What happened? Why were you there at the bank with a weapon?" Shock registered on the girlish face. "You know, that is the first time anyone has asked that question that way. Thank you, Aunt Jane." Darla took a fortifying sip of the brandy and then looked at Jane. "You know that my brother is my only living kin, right?" Jane nodded. "You also know that he is a thorough-going son of a bitch. He has killed at least three people that he has admitted to me, and has injured a dozen others. He's raped members of both sexes. He never went down for any of those, although he did some time early in his career on a B&E conviction." "And that's really where you got your fear of jail?" Darla had the grace to blush as she recalled her earlier, hasty answer to that question. "Mostly. Several of his rapes occurred inside and he delighted in telling me all the grisly details, all the while making comparisons between his victims and me. Anyway, as to how I ended up at the bank, he was short of money and decided to knock over the bank. He needed a helper and I made the mistake of being available. It was either do as he said or get killed." Jane's heart stopped at the matter of fact way Darla stated that belief. "The robbery went sour. Someone got out a silent alarm and the place was lousy with guards and cops before we could get away. My brother used me as a diversion and made his own escape." "I see." Jane rose and took the two empty snifters. "Maria will get your bags and boy things out of storage later today. I suggest you go and get some rest. Tomorrow will be a rough day for all of us." ~--------------~ The house was very still and quiet as Darryl crept from his room. One of the few semi-useful skills bequeathed to him by his brother was the ability to pick just about any lock with only the most minimal of tools. In this case, he had used the materials at hand - hair pins. The return of his male clothing by Maria the previous evening made his plan much simpler. Trousers, shirt, a ball cap to hide his still curly locks and soft soled shoes were much better for what he had to do than a dress and heels. He also now had a carry-all for the things he would need in order to disappear. Reaching the decision to leave had been the hardest thing Darryl had ever done because he really did not want to leave. There was a lot to be said for good hot food, a warm clean bed and people who cared about you and for you. Darryl believed that Jane cared, even when she was doing her level best to humiliate him to the depths of his masculine soul. She'd been pretty good at it, too, he admitted to himself wryly. If he'd been a normal guy, he'd have long ago been reduced to a quivering mass of jelly by her tricks. But, thanks to his brother, he'd long ago ceased to be a normal guy. No, Jane's bite was pretty good and her bark even better, but it was tough love from a soft heart. Which was why he had to leave. Tomorrow could be too late. If Stephan's father loosed the dogs of the media on Jane and he was still here, even as Darla, there was a near certainty risk that he would be seen. That would pose an unacceptably high risk that he might be recognized as Darryl, even if he was rigged out as Darla. If that happened, Jane and Maria would be in danger of their lives. That could *not* be allowed to happen. They had taken him in, cared for him and had protected him. Now it was his turn to do the same for them. Since he couldn't stop what Evans planned to do, this was the only other way he could think of that would ensure their safety. Silently, he crept down into Maria's pantry where he knew the petty cash was kept. That had not been his reason for helping her in the kitchen, but it was now a side benefit. He was going to need enough money to get away. He hated this most of all, but he had to have money if he was to get *far* enough away, quickly enough that they could not find him and bring him back. There was two hundred dollars in the till, and Darryl put in an IOU back into the box along with a promise to repay them as soon as he could. They wouldn't believe it, not after his apparent betrayal, but he would pay them back. He could do that much at least. There were tears in his eyes as he made his way out of the kitchen towards the front door. He stopped at the door and made one last sweeping look of the first real home he'd had since his Mother died, and then reached for the door. Bright light flooded the hall foyer, momentarily blinding Darryl. Stunned, he spun around and saw two ghostly figures standing behind him among the exploding starbursts of his dazzled vision. "I am very disappointed in you, Darryl." Jane said softly. "Didn't you believe me when I promised to send you to safety? Do you doubt my word so much that you feel you have to escape like a thief in the night?" His vision cleared enough to see the pain on both Jane's and Maria's faces and it broke him. Wrenching sobs burst forth from him, and he fell to his knees his head buried in his hands. And then both Jane and Maria were there, pulling him to his feet, leading him into Jane's study. Holding him as he cried. Holding him until he'd cried himself out. "I have to leave." he finally got out. "I can't be here when the reporters come, Jane. You've got to let me go for *your* sake." Jane tried to understand, but couldn't. Maria came back into the study with a glass of juice. "Here, cheri." she soothed. "Drink this. After all those tears, you need the fluids." Obedience to her orders was almost second nature by now and Darryl drained the glass before continuing to plead his case. "You have to let me go, dammit. I am a danger to you if I . . if I . . " Darryl's voice was getting steadily weaker and his movements more languid. "If I stay." he finally whispered before his eyes closed and his body went limp. Maria and Jane worked with practiced efficiency to get him onto the couch and covered with an afghan. "Good work, Maria." Jane congratulated. "He'll be out at least until mid morning. Why don't you get some sleep. I will stay with him until seven or so, and then you can sit with him until he wakes up." "All right." Jane turned to go back to her bed and then stopped. "What do you think he meant when he said he was a danger to us?" "I don't know, but he also said he had to be gone before the reporters come. They haven't shown up yet so perhaps whatever he is afraid of hasn't either. Still. . . . ." Maria walked over to Jane's desk, opened a drawer and withdrew a nine millimeter automatic pistol. She competently ejected the magazine, worked the action to ensure there wasn't a round chambered and then reloaded the magazine. Looking Jane squarely in the eye, she chambered a round and set the safety. Nodding, Jane left the room. ~-----------~ Four hours later, Jane came back into the study. Maria greeted her and smiled. "Well, one mystery is solved." she said tiredly. "Look in the suitcase." Curious, Jane padded over to the open case and looked inside. Her head immediately snapped back up in surprise. "I don't understand." she whispered. Inside the case were both missing wigs, an assortment of dresses, skirts, blouses and shoes, and almost all the cosmetics from Darla's vanity. "He was escaping, but he was going to switch back into a female identity once he'd made his getaway?" "Looks like it, Jane. I don't understand either and it is going to a few more hours before we can get any answers from him." "Go to bed, Maria. I'll watch him. I am going to have to call Judge Ruth anyway to tell her that Darryl has passed and is a free man. There will still be some paperwork to clean up on her end before we can send Darryl off to Wyoming." Solemnly, Maria handed the weapon over to Jane. "Round chambered, safety on, Jane." she said parroting the police officer who had taught them both to shoot the weapon. Jane took the gun, checked the safety, and then went over to the chair next to Darryl's makeshift bed, and took up her vigil. It was still a couple of hours before she could call the Judge. Hopefully, the reporters would not be on her doorstep before she could get her latest child out of harm's way. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----