Joe turned and looked in the mirror. By now, he had grown accustomed to
how he looked with the wig. His short hair looked strange, and sort of exotic.
He touched his cheek, feeling the softness. His hand then went to his breast.
He cupped it, as if estimating its weight, then squeezed it slightly. The hand
then continued lower, and he carefully felt his pubic area through the dress.

“I really do look like a girl, don’t I?” He said, turning to look at
Linda. “I just checked, and I guess I feel like one now too. I don’t have
any choice in the matter, but that’s what I am. If tomorrow, next month, or
next year they tell me I can go back, then I’ll have a difficult decision to
make. Till then I guess this person in the mirror is what I am.”
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“And I’ll help you.” Linda said. “However you want to handle it, I’ll
help you.”

“Should I wear this tomorrow?” Joe asked. “Can I wear it to get a hair
cut?”

“You can if you want to.” Linda said. “It’ll probably take less than an
hour.”

Joe thought about Sally’s…all the women just sitting
around…talking…gossiping…about god knows what. If they even suspected
that he was really a guy…a rooster in the hen-house…he could imagine the
disturbance it would create. Of course, there is no way he would be
detected…he may not always know precisely how to act like a woman, but
nobody could ever get him confused with a man. Not unless he told them. And
even then it’s doubtful they’d believe him.