Part 4 A Voice and Face from the Past

All too quickly for Jane's peace of mind, the phone shrilled its electronic summons. "Hello? Thompson residence."

"Jane? Jane Thompson? Lord, it is good to hear your voice. This is Art Philips. I just got your message and returned your call immediately. What can I do for you?"

Grimly, Jane again recapped the Caitlyn experience, up until the most recent injury, and then summarized Eric's reading on the situation. "I should have packed him off to the juvenile lock up facility ages ago, Art. He's just not getting any of the benefits of the program since he can't go out in public, and I could never trust him as a big sister. The new student would likely read him in the first week or so."

"So why haven't you done that, Jane?"

"Because it feels wrong," she sighed. "Every instinct tells me she is trying her best, and then, there is the way she took on caring for Marie. She's quite the little nurse."

"But you're concerned about the dancing and the sudden ability to walk in heels?"

"Shouldn't I be?" Jane retorted, getting tired of Art's Socratic style of conversation.

A low, pleasant chuckle sounded over the phone. "Sorry about that," Art said, not sounding at all sorry. "Answering questions with questions is one of the little occupational privileges of my trade. For what it is worth, however, I agree with Eric. You say he suddenly went completely stiff when you pointed out he was still in heels? Interesting."

"But what do I do, Art?"

"Get him together with a good therapist, Jane." Jane started to argue but was cut off by her old friend. "I *know* that would ordinarily endanger your program, but there won't be any problem with the therapist I have in mind. Completely trustworthy and discreet, I assure you, and a very big fan of yours, too."

"Oh really? And who have you been talking to about my program, Art?"

The chuckle was back. "Aren't you lucky I don't have anything planned for my two weeks vacation that starts tomorrow? I will be on the first plane to Providence. I should be there by tomorrow evening."

"You? You're the therapist you were talking about? You'd come here? Just like that?"

"Of course. You have always been special to me, Jane," Was the soft reply. "Now," the voice firmed and became business like. "Who should I show up as? Art or Diana?"

"Diana is still with us?" Jane asked, surprised.

"Yes indeed, and quite often, actually. I can be my own best example of overcoming emotional/physical obstacles for my patients, and frankly, Diana helps some of my gender dysphoric patients be more at ease with me since they see me as someone who understands their feelings better. Besides, I enjoy being Diana."

"I see. Then I think, at least for the beginning, it might be better for you to arrive as Diana. With few and intentionally uncomfortable-for-her exceptions, she's been without obviously-male contact since she arrived. Artemis would be a new variable, perhaps causing her to react unpredictably," Jane snorted. "As if she had been at all predictable to this point in time."

"All right. Diana it is, but the guy name is now just plain 'Art'. I legally ditched Artemis years ago," he paused. "Okay, I will be there when I get there. I will rent a car, so don't worry about having anyone meet me."

Jane closed her eyes, the relief of no longer feeling quite so alone in her battle almost orgasmic in its intensity. "Thank you, Art. I really, really do appreciate this."

"No problem. I am already looking forward to it. Get some rest, Jane. It sounds like you have had a hellish couple of days." The line disconnected, and Jane gently returned the phone to its cradle.

"Okay, Jane. I am dying of curiosity," Marie broke into Jane's reveries, "Just who is this Artemis who is evidently also a Diana? I don't remember any boy named Artemis and I would have. I always loved that show "Wild, Wild West" and Artemis Gordon in particular."

"Someone I knew a lifetime ago, Marie."
~--------------~

"You remember I told you that the first guy I ever helped put in skirts was Sheila's boyfriend? Yes, well, that wasn't all that great an experience once it was done. Not that anything particularly bad happened to the boy, but there was just this feeling that I did not want to be around them. At the time, I decided it was that I did not want to appear to be poaching on a sorority sister's guy. Now, after what we learned from Kendra's sojourn with us, maybe it was something else that was bothering me about Sheila even then."

"But it had been great fun. Not just the dress-up and make up games, but the dominance aspects of it. I found that I really enjoyed the one giving the orders and having them obeyed, no matter how silly they might actually be, or watching the darling blush bright red at a teasing comment or observation. Anyway, after I separated myself from Sheila, I decided I wanted a boy like that of my very own. I found Artemis Philips, or perhaps, Artemis Philips found me. I was never quite sure."

"Maybe it was a little of both, Jane?" Marie asked gently.

A gentle smile softened Jane's worried face. "Perhaps it was. We just sort of kept bumping into each other. At first, he was just a nice guy who took a few of the same classes I did. The first thing that caught my attention beyond that was his slender build since I was thinking about the games I had played with Sheila's boyfriend. I started gathering information about him. Where he lived, who he'd dated, what his old girlfriends thought of him. I was planning my campaign when he suddenly started showing up at the oddest places. The club I went to for dancing, my favorite corner of the library, the park where I went running in the mornings before school. The more I saw him, the more I liked him. I ended up liking him a very, very great deal."

"Sounds like you weren't the only one gathering data and planning something, Jane."

"No, it doesn't, does it? Suddenly, we were quite the item - dating, going out walking together, studying together. When I started teasing him with the dominance games, he just played with me as though they were nothing out of the ordinary. Shortly after that, I had him fully rigged out in one of my most feminine outfits from the skin out and he was marvelous. Took a bit of doing to tease him into going out in public with me, but even he saw he looked so good that he'd pass on even the third of fourth look. Besides, " and here Jane's smile became quite feline, "I rewarded him very well for those little outings."

"I'll just bet you did, Jane Thompson," Marie said haughtily before breaking into giggles. "Lucky guy."

"Lucky me, you mean. He never made me feel odd for liking that type of play and always seemed to enjoy it as much as I did, yet I always knew that he was a man in every finest sense of that word. I think the biggest surprise was that I could dominate a guy and still respect him *as* a guy. Sheila never respected her boyfriend, and I think that may have been one of the reasons I backed off from them. I think in many ways, I have tried to teach my boys the special characteristics I found in Art, both as Artemis and as Diana."

"I guess you chose the Diana name as a play on Artemis, both of them being Goddess of the Moon and the Hunt?"

"Sort of. This all happened before I learned the value of having similar sounding names for my boys when they are en femme. I had an awful time getting Art to answer to Diana without hesitation. Of course, I think part of that was pure pique on his part. He has always hated being stuck with name Artemis in the first place. The name was one of those Old Boston "first son gets named after some distant ancestor" family traditions. Art always contended that it was a girl's name, so I chose to name his feminine alter ego Diana as a tease." Jane sighed. "Those were some very special times."

"Whatever happened to that relationship, Jane?"

*A hospital happened,* Jane thought as a wet warmth prickled behind her eyes. "Life happened, Marie," Jane answered softly. "We both needed to move on." *He needed and deserved the family I couldn't give him after my illness.*

"Well, it's nice to know he still cares enough to come to your rescue like that."

Feeling very grateful, Jane could only nod her agreement. "I need to go up and relieve Darla. I will send her down to help you get ready for bed. I'll leave Caitlyn's door open. Yell if you need anything. I don't expect I'll get much sleep in any case. The chair I put in her room is the most uncomfortable antique monstrosity I have ever found. Hoist by my own petard."

"Good night, Jane," Marie said softly. "Try to rest."

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

Contrary to her expectations, Jane managed to fall asleep while watching over Caitlyn, but her fears about the comfort of the chair proved painfully true. Jane awoke with a start and a groan of pain when Caitlyn began to stir. She'd managed to put a severe crick in her neck and shoulders in the course of her long night's vigil.

Her groan finished waking Caitlyn, who sat up in surprise when she found that she was not alone in the dawn-gilt room. "Ms. Thompson?!? What are you doing here?"

Jane tried to arch her neck and shoulders, but the pain stopped her short. Grimacing, she looked at her student, her head cocked to one side. "You had a mild concussion, Caitlyn. Nurse Nora said you should not be left alone until your head cleared. How are you feeling this morning?"

The sleep rumpled boy-girl considered that for a moment, taking a quick mental inventory. "Okay, I guess. I only see one of you," she said with a gamine little grin, "But my head does ache where I banged it. No dizziness and I am too hungry to be nauseous."

"Teenagers and their stomachs," Jane said softly.

"I'd say, Ms. Thompson, that I feel a lot better than you look right now. What is wrong? Why are you holding your head that way?"

"This chair," Jane answered ruefully. "is not designed for overnight sleeping. My neck and shoulders are painfully stiff."

"I can fix that," Caitlyn perked, getting out of her bed with a decidedly unladylike bound. Before Jane could chastise the girl for it, however, Caitlyn was helping Jane gently out of the chair and onto her bed. She arranged Jane on her stomach and used pillows to prop Jane's head so as to take the strain off her neck and shoulders. "This might hurt a bit at first, so let me know and I will go a little easier until you loosen up."

To Jane's utter surprise, Caitlyn began a very careful, and apparently very knowledgeable massage of the distressed muscles. Momentarily taken off guard, Jane stiffened. Feeling that, the girl-boy stepped back. "Am I hurting you, Ms. Thompson?" she asked solicitously.

"N. . no. . .you just surprised me is all. I am not sure this is a very good idea, Caitlyn," she said. Jane moved to rise, but a stab of pain to the back of her neck stopped her the instant she tried to lift her head off the pillow.

"Let me try, Ms. Thompson," the girl entreated softly. "If it doesn't help, you won't be any worse off than you are right now, and it should help. I will be ever so gentle with you."

Jane wanted to argue, but couldn't. Her neck and shoulders were becoming stiffer every moment. "All right. But be very careful where you put your hands, young lady," Jane warned darkly.

"Like I said, you just tell me if it hurts too much and I will back off." And with that complete misunderstanding of Jane's warning against trying to cop a quick feel, Caitlyn resumed her massage. "This silk is great for this type of work, Ms. Thompson. It makes my hands slide on you without massage oil and it holds the heat, too."

Almost miraculously, Jane could feel her muscles warm, and become pliant under Caitlyn's touch. *I can't believe I am letting her do this,* Jane thought. *I can't believe she is doing this without prompting and is actually working to make me feel better. Why would she do that??*

"Why?" Jane asked in a drowsy tone.

"Why what, Ms. Thompson?" Caitlyn asked as she began kneading at a particularly tight knot of muscle.

"Why are you helping me? After yesterday? One way or another, a great deal of the blame for your own injury yesterday is my fault, and I have given you little cause to like me in the past months. Why would you even think of helping me?" The last sentence was slurred on a moan of near bliss as the knot relaxed under Caitlyn's fingers.

"Because you hurt," she responded indifferently. "I hate seeing anyone hurt - and I knew I could help you."

*That makes no sense either. If Carlton felt that way, why is Caitlyn here with me?* "But your offense involves assault. You fought with other students regularly. And you hate seeing anyone hurt??"

Caitlyn's fingers stopped momentarily. In the vanity mirror, Jane saw her student's eyes close, almost in pain, before she shook herself and continued her massage. "I hate hurting most of all, Ms. Thompson, but sometimes there just doesn't seem to be any other choices. My father has this Kenny Rogers' tune he always used to play called "Coward of the County?."

*Kenny Rogers,* Jane thought smiling, *Doesn't that bring memories.* A very young Jane Thompson had loved listening to "Kenny Rogers and the First Edition" - so much that she had even forgiven Kenny for moving into the Country and Western world. "I know the song, Caitlyn," Jane told her student.

"One of the last lines in the song is . . "Sometimes you've got to fight when you're a man. . " - Dad sure did play that song a lot - especially when he thought I wasn't spending enough time with the guys."

"You fought because your father wanted you to fight?" Jane asked, her drowsy somnambulance broken by the bitterness she heard in Caitlyn's voice.

"He never said so, Ms. Thompson," Caitlyn said briskly and then stood back up. She offered Jane a hand. "I think that about fixes you up, Ms. Thompson."

Jane took the proffered hand and stood. "My, that is much better," she said, meaning it. "Thank you very much, Caitlyn."

"It was my pleasure, Ms. Thompson," The boy-girl answered formally.

*Why is it that I believe you mean that?* Jane wondered thoughtfully. "Where ever did you learn to do that?"

Normally, the diffident shrug that answered Jane would have earned a student a scolding, but she held her tongue this time, hoping for a real answer. She got one.

"My mom used to be a dancer - ballet - good enough to have danced lead in some smaller companies if she hadn't met and married Dad. She still works out at a dance studio and sometimes she comes home with a sprain or a stiff back. I learned helping her."

"I see," Jane replied, although she wasn't sure she really did. "Well, I must go dress for the day. Are you feeling well enough to help with Marie today?"

A bright smile lit Caitlyn's face, making her as beautiful as any student Jane had ever taught, even without a trace of make up on her face. "Oh, yes. I will be fine, Ms. Thompson."

"Very well, then. I will see you at breakfast, then," Jane moved across the room and slipped out the door. Once outside Caitlyn's room, Jane came to a complete stop and simply stared off into space. *I think I actually believe everything she just told me, even though it makes absolutely NO sense at all.*

Well, she certainly had something else to tell Art when he arrived later that day. Maybe *he* could make some sense of all this.

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

The day passed quietly into mid-afternoon. Jane had tried to keep up her usual banter on manners and decorum, but that had been the extent of her efforts with Caitlyn. Jane was still tired after her night in that abominable chair, and she knew her judgement was not at its best when she was this tired. Besides, there did not seem to be much point in the game until Art arrived. Maybe he'd be able to help Jane figure out how the rules had been changed with this student.

The sound of a vacuum cleaner starting in the parlor caught Jane's attention. Except for taking time out to prepare lunch, Caitlyn had been caught up in a massive cleaning frenzy all day - ever since Jane had announced at breakfast that she was expecting a visit from a dear school chum of hers. The main public rooms - the entry foyer, front parlor, living room and dining room - literally gleamed, and Jane was positive that Caitlyn was carrying over that same dirt search-and-destroy attitude over into readying the best guest room.

Jane had not ordered the girl to clean like that. In fact, what cleaning Jane demanded of the girls was more to emphasize their feminine condition by having them work at stereotypically female "maid-ish" tasks. Dusting with a feather duster, plumping pillows, setting out flowers, doing dishes and other such dainty tasks were part and parcel of their indoctrination, but heavy cleaning was done by a service Jane brought in every two weeks or so.

When Jane had cornered Caitlyn to find out why she was doing this, her answer had been direct. "Because I promised Ms. Marie, Ms. Thompson. I don't want her fretting over the house and trying to do too much too quickly." Jane was trying to find something to say about that, when the girl-boy had continued. "You will tell her I am doing a good enough job at it, won't you, Ms. Thompson? Even if there are places you think I need to go back and fix? Otherwise, she's going to think she needs to get back into it."

"Of. . of course," Jane had stuttered. "I. . . I will come back later to inspect your work to show you what you need to correct." *After I find a pair of white gloves to inspect with since that is the only way I am going to find anything to criticize in this room. What has gotten into the boy?? Is his word *really* that important to him?!?*

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

Art called Jane a little after 3:00 P.M., telling her he'd landed at Providence and would arrive within the hour. When Jane had told this to Caitlyn and Darla, intending to have them go clean up to receive visitors, Caitlyn had gone pale. "Dinner, Ms. Thompson, I forgot all about dinner."

"I've already arranged for dinner to be delivered," Jane said with her fingers crossed. "I did not want Marie to be fretted either. We will dine at eight tonight, but if you could have a low tea prepared, Darla, for when our guest arrives?"

"Yes, Aunt Jane," Darla had replied. "That won't be any problem at all."

Nodding her approval, Jane had shoo-ed them both up to change while she made a semi-frantic phone call to a local restaurant. That little white lie, told to preserve Caitlyn's feelings, ended up costing Jane a great deal.

But the girl had worked so hard today, Jane told herself by way of rationalization. Even Marie at her best would have been hard pressed to deal with such an unexpected arrival of company.