Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

Chapter 2: Vignettes - A Program in Disarray

Jane tapped her finger on her calendar as she dialed a familiar phone number. *I'll need to change that to August tomorrow,* she thought.

"Marisha Chalet.  Carolyn Beale speaking."

"Caro!  Jane here.  Ready for another opportunity to excel, dear?"

"So this newbie didn't take you up on your offer to leave in one of your frilly nighties, either?"

Good humored satisfaction colored Jane's tones.  "Not hardly, dear.  He caved and gave his word to follow the rules, like they all do eventually."

"But you think she is ready to venture out into the cold, cruel world?  What are you calling him. . .her?"

"I think she's suitably cowed now, and we named her Victoria - what else?  I don't have the imagination some of my students do when it comes to naming.  Besides, I think there is additional impact to a girl's name that sounds like his real one."

"Well, you'd know, Jane.  So, what's the plan?  Actually, I sort of thought you'd be bringing her in earlier.  He's been with you, what, a week already?"

"The usual first day at the salon experience with you and Sandy."

"How does SHE look? How are her girl-skills?
"Adequate, I think.  After one week in the program, she's well into the initial indoctrination phase."

"Any issues with behavior?"

Jane paused noticeably.  "I don't think so, at least for this trip.  The removal of his male clothing and their replacement with the very frilly, exaggeratedly feminine wardrobe I use during the first weeks of a rehabilitation did result in an angry confrontation between Victor and I."

"How angry?" Carolyn demanded.

"He attempted to become physical with me," Jane admitted equably. "Without any success and to the detriment of his ego, I might add.  You won't have any trouble with THIS one, I'm sure."

~-------------~

Carolyn examined the figure seated at her station with a professional eye.  Like Jane, she saw both the flaws and the possibilities in the face and form of her subject.  That this subject was a genetic male was not a significant issue - she had made far more masculine boys into passable young girls.  Most were even attractive - when she let them be, that is.  The little monsters had to *earn* that privilege first.  Until they had, Carolyn and Sandy followed Jane's orders which required that the students be caricatures.

*Oh, my, but has Sandy done a job on you, Victoria,* Caro thought as she considered frizzy blond ponytails, more suited to an eight year old girl than an adolescent woman-child. *I'll have to brush it out before the girls arrive for class, but even so, she's going to have more curl and body than any of the others.  And those nails - he'll poke his eyes out before he learns to manage them.  You must have really pissed her off, Victoria.*

"Well," she said finally.  "Aren't you the pretty child, Victoria.  Having fun, dear?"

Caro had expected to see the boy-girl's face color with embarrassment, or at most lighten with fear.  Victoria's face did flush, but what she saw in those eyes was anger, perhaps even rage. *Well, it is not the usual reaction, but not one I haven't seen and dealt with before with one of Jane's girls.* "Ah, ah, ah, dearie," she chided in a soft, barely audible sing-song.  "Don't want to lose your temper and blow your masquerade.  Unless you want all my customers and consultants to know that you are a pretty little sissyboy under that pretty school uniform."

She saw his struggle to school his features and control his anger. *Have to watch this one,* she mused. *Jane was right about that temper of his.* "That's better.  Now, Jane tells me you've been given basic training by Marie in cosmetics.  She is good, but I'm better.  What I want now is for you to do up your own face so I can see what you know, and what you don't.  Then, I will use you as the demonstration model for my girls' club."

Shocked, he sat up and stared at Carolyn, his eyes wide.  "You'll what?  What girls' club?  Me?"

*Gotcha!* "Didn't Jane tell you?" Carolyn asked with a sly smile.  "She said I could use you to demonstrate make up tricks to a group of girls I work with every Wednesday."

"But, I can't, I mean, they'll figure out that I'm a. . .No, that's just not going to work!"

"As I understand it, you've agreed to follow Jane's orders, and her orders were to follow mine.  You'll do what I say or the whole deal is off, Missie!"

"But all those girls. . . "

"Will not notice a thing, other than that you are the 'new girl' and more than a little shy.  Just do as I say, and play along and nothing will go wrong," she ordered as she began to undo ties holding the pigtails in place.

"But I'm a boy!" Victoria hissed out as Caro began to brush out the expertly installed hair-extensions Sandy had woven into Victor's own locks.

With a jerk, Carolyn spun the salon chair so that Victoria was facing the mirrored wall.  She gripped her subject's cheeks between strong fingers so that Victoria had no choice but to stare at her own reflection.  "But dear, you don't LOOK like a boy.  In fact, you look nothing LIKE a boy, and so long as you don't ACT anything like a boy, no one is going to know you're a boy.  So unless you WANT that fact to become common knowledge, you will be a good little girl - keep your mouth shut, do what you're told and SMILE!!  Got it, sissy boy?"

In the mirror, she could see Victoria swallow hard, then close her eyes and nod.

"Excellent.  Now, make up your face for me.  All my girls are supposed to show up for class with their faces already done up so that I can critique their efforts and show them a few tricks to correct any errors.  You, I suspect, will make a lot of errors which is why you'll be my model today." *And so that I can keep you out of TOO close a contact with the girls before you are really ready.*

~------------~

Marie accepted the glass of sherry Jane offered.  "Well, I must say that Caro continues to impress me with her artistry.  Victoria's face was lovely."

"Yes," Jane smiled.  "And our little girl was VERY ready to run home to Seasons House after the make up club meeting was over.  All in all, a very successful first outing, I should think."
"Sandy got carried away," Marie said frowning.  "I've seen dustmops with less bulk than that hair-do she foisted off on Victoria."

Jane shrugged.  "It's what she does, and very well."

"I just think we should keep an eye on her, is all.  That hairdo is not going to be easy for us to deal with and it certainly doesn't send the message we usually want our girls to get."

"I see your point.  Well, I think we will hold off on Brenda Franson's shop for a few more days - let Victoria learn a few more hard lessons before she has to keep her cool in her silky undies in Betty's changing room."

~---------------~

There was a wicked grin on Jane's lips as she listened to the phone ring on the other end of the connection.  That grin only grew wider when she heard the line pick up followed by "This is Mrs. Edith White speaking, how may I help you," in the old lady's Brahman accents. 

"Edith, dear, this is Jane - Jane Thompson.  How are you today?"

"Quite well, thank you.  Dare I hope that this call heralds the debut of another of your delightful young ladies to our little social set?"

"In a way, Edith.  I do have a new student in residence, but I'm afraid she not very ladylike.  Why do all the children nowadays seem so . . . coarse and crude?"

"Overly permissive parents, my dear, which is why ladies such as you and I must set proper examples and maintain certain standards."

Jane struggled not to giggle at that bit of pompous foolishness, but could not quite repress the smile.  "True, Edith, sad but oh-so-very true.  In any case, I could surely use just such an example of impeccable manners for this one's benefit, and of course, I thought immediately of you.  Could you come over for tea tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Edith responded, sounding uncertain.  "Let me check my calendar. . . let's see, tomorrow is Friday, the tenth of August?  Yes, I could make tea tomorrow afternoon.  What time?"

"Three p.m.?"

"That will be fine.  You do recall we are having a bit of a musicale on Sunday at the country club.  A little food, some socializing, a bit of proper ballroom dancing for the young people.  If your student performs adequately tomorrow, perhaps we could reward her with an invitation to the gathering."

"Thank you, Edith - I'm sure that will do the trick, and oh, I almost forgot - it will be a formal tea.  I'll have her wearing the right clothes, at least.  Together, I'm sure we can teach her proper manners." 

~-------------~

"She did WHAT?" Marie demanded.

"She spilled hot tea in Edith's lap - all over that antique crocheted shawl the woman is so proud.  And Marie?  It was on purpose."

"On purpose?"

"She mocked us every minute we were there.  Aping mannerly behavior, mimicking Edith's accent to the point of hyperbole, putting lemon AND cream into the same cup of tea so that the cream curdled."  Jane shook her head.  "It was as if she was TRYING to infuriate me.  Then she 'tripped' and spilled the tea on Edith.  Thank God there had been time for it to cool a bit."

"That's never happened before.  Edith is a very scary lady.  Now what?"

"Keep trying.  She starts dance lessons tomorrow.  We'll see how that works." 

~-------------~

"Ms. Thompson?" 

"Yes, this is Jane Thompson."

"This is Allison, the dance mistress?"

"Yes, dear.  What can I do for you?"

There was silence on the other end of the line, and Jane could practically feel the woman gathering herself for something unpleasant. *And since there is only one thing we have in common that is likely to be unpleasant. . .* "Is this call about Victoria, Allison?"

The woman's sigh of relief was audible, even across the phone line.  "Yes, Ma'am."

"That bad, eh?"

"She just doesn't want to be here, and frankly, it's affecting the rest of the corps.  She doesn't pay attention, and so she makes mistakes.  On the dance floor, mistakes can get other dancers hurt."

"Other students have been injured?!" Jane was aghast. *She was probably afraid to bring it to my attention since I underwrite a significant portion of her operating budget.  DAMN!*

"Not badly, Ms. Thompson.  A couple of ankle sprains and a pulled hamstring.  The problem is that puts three of my five male dancers out of commission and with a performance coming up, I just can't afford to lose male leads for any length of rehearsal time.  Besides, no one wants to partner her anymore."

*Precisely her intention, the nasty little bitch!* Jane's mind snarled.  "You don't. . .the injuries. . . they were really accidents, weren't they?"

"Carelessness and inattentiveness, Ms. Thompson," Allison responded with a hard edge in her voice.  "Ma'am, until Victoria learns some discipline, well, I just cannot have her in the class. It's not fair to the ones who come and give me their all.  I'm sorry, and I know you do a lot for the troupe, but. . "

"But nothing, dear," Jane interrupted.  "I understand, and I will continue to support your efforts.  It is not your fault my niece refuses to be accountable for her actions. Thank you for your call.  Yes, good bye."

Jane set the phone down on it's cradle, very, very carefully.

And then pounded her desk with both hands in frustrated anger.  It was becoming clear that unless the girl was watched like a hawk, nasty little 'accidents' tended to happen to those around her.

*Oh god, and tomorrow is the big Labor Day picnic in town. And I *HAVE* to attend.*

~---------------~

"Go to your room, Miss!" Jane snarled as she herded her student into the front foyer of Seasons House, "And don't leave until I personally permit it!"
"Yes, Mizzz Jane," Victoria replied in a sing-song voice before sauntering up the grand stairway toward her room.

"I just want to THROTTLE that girl!" Jane fumed to Marie as they both went into the music room.  

"Get in line," Marie growled as she beat Jane to the brandy decanter, pouring generous portions of the fragrant amber liquid into two crystal balloon snifters.  "You should have known better than to force her into the egg toss."

Jane sighed as she accepted her share of the distilled wine.  "I'll replace that blouse, dear.  Even you can't get dried egg out of silk.  I just wish I could prove it was intentional so I could really lay into her for THAT.  Unfortunately, as she has so often, her visible behavior was impeccable until we were two miles down the road on our way home."

"And then the little . . . bitch went snotty on us yet again.

"And there is no reason to believe her compliance with any orders we give her here will be any less maliciously precise than it has been in the previous six weeks.  I must tell you, Marie, I am getting bloody tired of doing in-depth rhetorical analysis on any order I decide to give this one."

"She has me doubting my instincts, too."

"Join the club, Marie.  Heavens, I don't know why I bother to use feminine pronouns with this one.  I just wish I understood what was behind that dichotomy.  It isn't courage - I'm very sure of that.  Thus far, I've seen nothing to indicate she possesses that virtue, and besides, if the boy really doesn't fear my games, why would going to the beauty parlor or to any other public venue have any effect on his behavior?" 

"If I knew, I'd tell you, Jane.  And you know I've tried to get her to talk to me about it, with very little success.  The only thing she's let slip is that, for some reason she wouldn't share with me, she has concluded that so long as nothing happens outside of this house to reveal his true nature, whatever happens inside Seasons House didn't really matter.

"So we must conclude that it isn't so much Sandy, Caro and their antics that reach Victoria, but the public nature of the trips to encounter those women.  Victoria is clearly more careful with her behaviors and mannerisms when she knows she is going to be on display or in public - with her cosmetics and dress, too."

"At least she's learned those lessons well enough not to endanger the program when she's out in public," Marie sighed.  "She's learned to be rather attractive when her attitude isn't getting in your face."

"Unfortunately, the outings are only a threat, a bluff, if you will. We can't permit a break in the student's feminine persona while we're out - only while we're at home - and we need such 'failures' on her part. They provide us with the psychic wedges we use to break down the resistant male psyche."

"So where does that leave us?  With a student who has somehow figured out that he really is safe?" 

Jane nodded morosely. "How he has reached that conclusion, I have no idea.  Unfortunately, the fact that he is correct only makes my problem more difficult."

"Difficult?" Marie snorted "Try impossible, Jane.  That attitude can not continue or we will never make any progress with the boy. In fact, you and I both know we're *that close* to having to give up and return him to the juvenile criminal justice system.  

"Like Hell we will!" Jane snapped furiously, and then blushed.  "Sorry, dear."

"That's all right, Jane.  I hate the idea, too."

"Somehow," Jane thought aloud, "we have to shake his certainty that he is safe so long as he doesn't break cover outside the house.  The problem with that is that it necessitates putting him squarely in the public eye and breaking the masquerade in front of witnesses."

"JANE!  You're KIDDING!"

"Not really, but that concept does pose several problems, not the least of which was that if it does not work, it's all over. If public unmasking, even in the limited sense I'd dare attempt, fails, nothing else will have any beneficial outcome.  Eventually, the terms of the court order that sent him here will force us to send him back, and let the juvenile detention system have its way with him."

"You said there were problems - plural.  What else?"

"The second problem, of course, is that he has already been exposed to most of my fellow-conspirators as a cross-dressed male." Jane rose and went back to the sideboard for a bit more brandy.  "There isn't anyone else we can use to set up a 'safe' (read that, not real) public unmasking.  He is, by now, only too aware that Sandy, Caro and Betty Franson are in on the masquerade.  I think he would very probably conclude that any other local establishment I try to use for that purpose were also in on the game.  He has to believe that he really has been unmasked.  That requires some truly public location."

"Are you thinking of what you did to Michael?"

Nodding, Jane resumed her seat.  "Yes.  It is chancy and it might as easily backfire as work, but for the life of me, I cannot think of any other choice."

"How will you set that up?  You usually do that far earlier in the program when the student still thinks you might actually let him go and while he is still reeling from the sudden change in his lifestyle.  This one has already figured out too much."

"And I don't have a big sister to tease him into it, either," Jane admitted.  "I think there is a way, though.  I just hope I understand his psyche now well enough to predict how he will react if his male pride is put on the line."  

"You're kidding," Marie burbled as she finally understood.  When Jane only shook her head, the little French Canadian could only laugh.  "Amazing.  The only way to feminize him is to challenge him to prove his masculinity and then call upon his sense of male honor.  All right, then, what's the first step?"

"I call Caro.  I will need her help, but she needs to know why first.  We cannot forget that he does have a history of violence and we are about to push his buttons about as hard as we can."

~--------------~

"Caro?  Jane, here.  Is Sandy there?  Are you two available for a quick conference call?"

"Hi, Jane.  Sure.  Let me get her on the other phone.  We're just about done for the day here, anyway.  Just a sec. . " Jane heard Caro's muffled yell for Sandy to pick up the phone, probably through the other woman's palm over the phone's mouthpiece.

A click heralded Sandy's arrival.  "Hey, Jane!  What's up?"

"Obviously, I need your help, ladies, but I must also warn you that the plan I have decided to follow is something that could really backfire on us."

Sandy snort of disgust was plain, even across the New England phone lines.  "Victoria still being a little piss-ant for you out there?"

"Crudely put, Sandra, but unfortunately, also highly accurate - and we're running out of options with this one - running out of time, too.  If we don't reach her soon, it's all over and she goes into the loss column."

Carolyn's own husband was a Jane Thompson success and she didn't even like thinking about her life had Jane not been able to turn his life around for him.  "What do you want to do?  What do you want from us, Jane?"

"I want to pull out all the stops," Jane said in a rush.  "For what I have planned, I need to make it impossible for him to look at all masculine, regardless of how I permit him to dress."

"Okay, I understand the goal.  What have you got in mind?"

"Oh, not much.  Hair coloring, I think. Something audaciously brazen and utterly blatant."

"More than we've already done with her?"  Carolyn asked, surprised.

"More than we've ever done - period.  As I said, pull out all the stops."

"We can do that," Sandy said confidently.  "When I'm done with her, you'll be able to light a dark room with her hair.  What else?"

Jane let out a frustrated breath, and refocused herself. "What I'd *like* to do is inflict a big-hair hairdo on her that would embarrass Dolly Parton, but we can't do that.  He has to agree to this ploy, and I'm sure he'd decide I was cheating if we augmented his coiffure.  No, whatever we do, we're stuck working with just his own natural-length hair.  Unfortunately, while he wears it long for a boy, that collar length hair just won't cut it for big hair.  Dammit!"

"Wow, you are bedeviled if you're reduced to making bad puns and cursing, Jane," Caro chuckled.

"Umm, Jane?  I think I know what you're planning, and I may have an idea on that," Sandy put in.

"Really?  Let me hear it, please . . .oh, and before I forget.  Sandy?  Those new, special nail-tips you told me about a few weeks ago?  Those, too."

"They're expensive, Jane.  Very expensive," Caro warned.

"I can afford it, Carolyn, and I am afraid this might be our last chance.  I won't be penny-wise and pound-foolish with a young man's future in the balance."

"You're the customer, Jane.  When do you want to come?"

"Tomorrow's our regular day for the Chalet, and that's fine, but I think we might want to have the salon . . . well, the fewer real customers in the house, the better.  Just in case."

"I see," Caro said with a sigh.  "Okay, I'll open a half hour early just for you two."

"Thanks, Carolyn, and Caro?  I will be there for the entire appointment this time.  Just in case.  Now, then, Sandra, tell me what you had in mind."