Aurora

"Of course, just as you requested."

"Wonderful. I'm betting she's a size 6. Let's see if I'm right." Marsha came out of the closet holding a skimpy little yellow dress on a hanger, and after she unzipped it and handed it to me, the women watched patently as I slithered into my first dress, stepping into it and struggling with the zipper in the back before Marsha took pity on me and zipped it all the way up. She lifted it up and fussed with my slip before she tugged the hem back down and stepped back to admire her handiwork. "I declare, she's a perfect size 6 all right!" Irene beamed. "Let's take a little break."

There was a coffee urn on the sidebar, and Marsha poured us each a cup. When she handed me mine, I told her I preferred it black, but Irene interrupted me. "The First Lady takes her coffee with cream and sugar, and so will you." She produced a pack of Salems and handed one to me. "You'd better get used to these, too." I lit one up, and sat back on the sofa, sipping my sweet coffee and inhaling the mentholated smoke while I tried to familiarize myself with the sensations of wearing women's clothing. When I looked down and saw my silky knees peeking out from under my dress, I felt another jolt under my pettipants, which intensified when I crossed my legs and peered down at my feet in kitten heels. Seemingly oblivious to my inner turmoil, Irene gave me a few tips on how to hold my cigarette in a more ladylike fashion, and then it was time to get back to work.

Irene sat me down at the makeup table and Marsha went to work on my face. She gave me a running commentary as she progressed. Jackie had fairly prominent eyebrows, so very little pruning was required before Marsha styled my eyes with blue shadow, eyeliner and mascara. She puffed some powder on me, experimented with a bit of rouge on my cheeks, and finished me off with some dark pink lipstick. I just sat there mesmerized as my appearance was slowly transformed from male to female. When Marsha was finished with my face, she carefully filed my fingernails and applied a few coats of pink nail polish which matched my lipstick. After they were dry, she asked Irene which wig she wanted to try on me first.

"We may as well go all the way with this. Put the brown flipped bob on her." Marsha produced it as requested, and spent a long time fussing with a comb and brush. When she was finished even Irene was impressed, and I was speechless as I stared at my reflection in the mirror - until that moment, I'd been a man in women's clothing, but now that I had a head full of girlish hair, I'd been instantly transformed into a woman. And a very familiar woman at that, I marveled while Marsha completed me with a few finishing touches: some clip on earrings, a woman's watch, a few rings and a simple necklace completed my look. Marsha even dabbed on a touch of cologne.

Irene asked me to step in front of a full length mirror on the closet door. Looking back at me was Jacqueline Kennedy, the First Lady of the United States. The yellow sheath dress which hugged her slim, boyish figure came just down to her knees, revealing attractive legs in stylish heels. As I turned this way and that, I couldn't believe that the woman in the mirror was really me, and for the first time, I began to believe that this cockamamie scheme was actually going to work.

* * *

When Marsha went out to pick up lunch, Irene told me what was expected of me during the next few months. Fortunately for us, the First Lady's pregnancy would take her out of the public eye, allowing us plenty of time to work on my looks, my voice and my deportment. "I'm very pleasantly surprised by the progress we've made this morning," Irene said. "From the standpoint of style, you've shown us that you can make a very convincing double for Jackie. Although we don't expect you to be having any face-to-face interactions when you're standing in for her, we do need to anticipate the unexpected. Her voice is very breathy, almost childlike." She switched on a tape recorder and played a few minutes of Jackie's famous tour of the White House with Charles Collingswood. "Try imitating her voice," Irene instructed me.

"Yes, it's attic and cellar all in one. Since our work started we've received hundreds of letters every day...."

"Not bad at all," Irene commended me. "Do you have a tape recorder at home?" I nodded yes. "I'll give you this tape to listen to so you can practice in the evenings. It's especially important that you try to perfect her voice using short, sweet sentences, such as 'Thank you' and 'So nice to meet you' in case you're ever called upon to respond to someone."

"I understand."

"Now, the most challenging part of your training will be teaching you how to act like a lady, by which I mean learning how to move your body as if you were a woman. Jackie is very graceful and feminine, a real girlie girl, and this is going to have to become second nature to you." We looked up when Marsha returned with lunch. "We'll discuss this some more later." I watched Marsha place some salads and iced tea on the side bar. "You were probably expecting hamburgers," Irene said, "but from this day forward you must eat like a lady. Remember, we have five pounds to lose."

* * *

The rest of that afternoon was taken up with a fashion show, by which I mean me trying on an endless succession of dresses and a few skirts and blouses, along with many pairs of high heels and designer flats. A few didn't look quite right on me and were rejected, and two of the dresses fit better in size 8, but by the end of the day Marsha had set aside an impressive wardrobe for me to work with. The only problem I encountered was with the little white gloves that Irene asked me to try on - they were a bit too small for my hands, and Marsha made a note to replace them.

Towards the end of the day, Irene asked me to change into a flowing skirt and blouse. "You can take your slip off too, your pettipants will be fine under that skirt, and let's go with a simple pair of flats." I did as I was instructed, and after parading around the dressing room all day in dresses and heels, I found my new outfit to be surprisingly comfortable. Marsha then directed me to sit down at the vanity, where she proceeded to remove my wig and replace it with a longer one, a light brown flip which she adorned with a hairband. My earrings and necklace were also removed in favor of more casual fashion jewelry.

"It's funny, but I don't look anything like her with my hair this way," I said.

"That's the whole idea. If Jackie were to take the bus to Alexandria, it might cause a sensation."

"Hey, hang on! You don't expect me to leave here looking like this?"

"Of course we do, dear. Remember what I told you before lunch? Carrying yourself as a woman has to become second nature to you, and turning yourself back into a man every afternoon will only hold back your progress."

After a long, frustrating day of being feminized, I finally snapped. "No fucking way! Where are my clothes?"

Irene seemed to be prepared for my outburst. "You're wearing your clothes now, Aurora. If you have any questions about my instructions, call Duane Fenton. He'll back me up 100%."

"But this is nuts! I can't get on a bus looking like this!"

"And why not? Look at yourself in the mirror." I did, and my heart sank when I realized that she was right. In my skirt, blouse and flats, I looked like just another working girl, on her way home to her apartment after a busy day. Marsha handed me a pair of designer sunglasses, and when I put them on, the illusion was complete: I could walk up to my old front door and my parents wouldn't recognize me. "Here's your purse, I've put your keys and wallet inside along with lipstick, a compact and a hairbrush, although I can't imagine you'll need them on the bus. And here's a shopping bag with a change of underwear and stockings, and a nightgown and panties for you to put on tonight. You'll also find a makeup kit and some cold cream so you can take off your makeup before you turn in."

Thoroughly defeated, I took the shopping bag and purse - Marsha had to gently show me how to hold it - and headed for the door. "Wait, here's that tape for you to listen to tonight, and something to read on the bus." I looked on in despair as Irene dropped a reel of tape and a copy of Glamour magazine into my shopping bag. "And remember, eat like a bird tonight! See you tomorrow morning bright and early!"

I was broken down with misery as I trudged towards the bus stop in my dainty flats.

* * *

The next few months flew by. My daily routine as Aurora was always the same: up at six (I quickly learned that it took me longer to dress myself as a woman, put on my makeup, etc) before it was off to catch my bus after a light breakfast. Every day was like boot camp in high heels as Irene put me through my paces, drilling me on the finer points of being a woman, working on my female voice, and fitting me into an endless array of stylish outfits. Irene was very proud of me when I finally lost those five pounds!

But there was sadness too, when the Kennedys lost their baby. He was born prematurely, and after a losing battle with lung disease he died in his father's arms. The family was devastated, but life goes on, and eventually Jackie began to resume her normal activities.

By Autumn, I was quite adept at making up my face, and even putting on nylon stockings and fastening them to my garters was second nature to me now. Easing on my lingerie and stockings was always an erotic experience, and pleasuring myself every morning before I put on my skirt or dress had become a daily part of my routine. Weekends were long and lonely, and on Saturdays and Sundays I invariably slept till noon and lolled around my apartment, feeling increasingly isolated from the real world I used to know.

The only consolation was my budding flirtation with Marsha. We were more like sisters than boyfriend and girlfriend, but by the end of the summer I finally overcame my shyness and asked her if she'd like to have dinner with me one night. As Aurora, of course....we giggled and whispered our plans like two conspiring schoolgirls, knowing that Irene would never approve, and finally we agreed to meet for dinner on a Saturday night at the Capitol Hilton. Irene had ordered a set of expensive luggage for me, in case I was called upon to travel as the First Lady, and a few days before my date with Marsha I spirited a train case out of the dressing room, filled with the things I'd need for our sleepover.

Marsha reserved a room in her name, and that Saturday I spent the day getting myself ready for what I hoped would be the end of a long, long drought. The fact that I would be dressed and made up as a woman wouldn't matter once we got upstairs! By then, the hair on my head was just long enough to style into a pixie cut, and I treated myself to my first ever appointment at a beauty salon, where in addition to my hairdo they gave me a manicure. The girls at the salon had no idea that I was really a man.

I'd worn a cute pair of shorts and a boatneck shirt to the salon - Irene had taken pity on my and treated me to some casual clothes to spend my weekends in - but that night I planned to doll myself up in one of my "Jackie" dresses, a stunning blue sheath that showed off my new figure to perfection. By then, I'd graduated to a bra and girdle, and after shaving my legs in a long, hot bubble bath, I wriggled into my lingerie and deftly fastened a pair of sheer nylon stockings to my garters. After I stepped into a slip, I put on a casual skirt and flats for my bus ride downtown. My dress, heels, jewelry, and other incidentals were nestled in my train case.

I attracted a few admiring glances from the guys on my way downtown - my new hairdo really was darling - and I had a spring in my step when I walked into the hotel. I called Marsha's room from a house phone and she told me to come on up. She opened the door in her bra and panties - never in my life had a girl been so familiar on a first date, but now that I'd abandoned my male identity, it seemed strangely natural take off my skirt and put on a dress for dinner while my date did the same. Our conversation must have sounded like two sorority sisters:

"I love your hair!"

"Thanks," I replied using my Jackie voice. "It feels so nice not to put on a wig."

"I'll bet. It should be easy to take care of."

"I hope so! What are you wearing tonight?"

"A new dress I found on sale at Garfinckel's." She held it up against her body. "What do you think?"

"I love it!" We busied ourselves putting on our dresses and heels, I freshened my lipstick while she finished with her makeup, and then we were on our way to the elevator. When we stepped inside, two good-looking guys sized us up as we rode down to the lobby. After they let us off first - a prerogative of womanhood that I was getting used to - they followed us down the hall to Trader Vic's. We were trying to get the attention of the maitre d when someone spoke up behind us.

"Why don't you ladies join us?" It was one of the guys from the elevator! They were both dressed in jackets and ties, and they seemed very nice.

"I don't think so," Marsha said curtly. "Two for dinner," she told the maitre d. I gave them a pitying smile before we were led to our table - having been a guy, I actually felt a little sympathy for them, although I was relieved that we were safely away.

After we were seated - such fun to have someone pull back my chair! - and we ordered Samoan Fog Cutters, we giggled excitedly about our close call. "Could you believe those guys?" Marsha asked me.

I glanced around the room and saw them being seated at a nearby table. "Pretty bold. I wonder what they're doing here?"

"Don't tell me you wanted them to join us!"

"No, of course not! I just admired their style. I could never do something like that when I was a guy," I caught myself saying.

"Sweetheart, you are a guy, and you're my guy tonight, somewhere in there, aren't you?"

I took her hand. "Of course I am! It's just that I've been living as a woman for so long, that sometimes I wonder whether it's messed me up somehow."

"Messed you up like how?"

"I don't know, I haven't been with a girl in so long...."

"Well, you're with one now," she smiled.

"You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to tonight! It's just that...."

"What?"

"It's just that dressing as a woman as become incredibly arousing to me. Sometimes I wonder whether I'll ever be able to give it up. I know that makes me sound like such a pansy...."

"You poor boy! We've put you through quite an indoctrination, haven't we? I don't care how you feel about dressing up in women's clothes. I only care how you feel about me."

"I think I'm falling in love with you," I told her truthfully.

"And I feel the same way about you. Now that that's settled, what are we having for dinner?"

* * *

That night was pure magic. When we got back to the room, Marsha pushed me down on the bed, lifted up my dress and slip, and tugged my girdle down to my knees. She was wearing panties over her garterbelt and stockings, and as soon as she had her panties off, she lifted up her dress and jumped on me, impaling herself on my quivering penis. Any fears I had about losing my manhood disappeared that night as we made love again and again, the last few times totally naked, my fixation with wearing women's clothing completely forgotten.

Of course, the next morning we dressed ourselves as girls again and went down to the coffee shop for breakfast. The same two guys were sitting next to us, and soon we were flirting with them, just for fun. "This will be good practice for you," Marsha whispered in my ear, and for the next hour we bantered back and forth with them, deflecting their persistent requests for our phone numbers. My Jackie voice was working for me, and when we got up to leave, one of the guys asked me if I was Jacqueline Kennedy's sister!

On Monday morning, I surprised Irene with my pixie haircut, but she was too preoccupied to give it a second glance. "Get yourself dressed as Jackie," she instructed me. "We have a meeting with Fenton at Treasury at 10:00." Marsha helped me change into one of Jackie's trademark sheath dresses and heels, pinned up my hair and put Jackie's trademark wig on me. After I put on some jewelry and my little white gloves, I picked up my purse, Marsha wished me luck, and we were out the door, where a limousine was waiting for us in the alley.

"What's going on?" I asked Irene. Fenton had never seen me as Jackie, relying on Irene's daily status reports. Why the sudden urgency?

"I have no idea. Don't worry, you look fabulous. He's going to be very impressed."

I was feeling very relaxed. After my lovemaking marathon with Marsha, for the first time in memory I didn't have an orgasm when I put on my stockings that morning, and it was a cool and

collected young lady who emerged from the limousine in the Treasury Department basement and rode an elevator to the top floor.

The same crew was waiting for us in the conference room. Fenton gave me a double-take when I walked in, and they all eyed me approvingly as I pulled back a chair and sat down gracefully. "Good morning, Aurora. You look lovely." A photographer was taking non-stop pictures of me.

"Thank you," I said in Jackie's breathy voice while I removed a pack of Salems from my purse and waited for someone to light it for me. A gentleman who hadn't spoken the last time I was there flicked open a cigarette lighter and offered it to me, and I recognized him immediately as Kenneth O'Donnell, the President's Chief of Staff. "Thank you, Kenny," I said as if I'd known him all my life.

"I must say I'm impressed," O'Donnell said. "Are you sure she's really a man?"

"The nerve of you, Kenny! That's no way to address the First Lady!" I said with mock indignation.

A roar of laughter filled the room, with O'Donnell laughing the loudest. "Okay, I'm sold," he said when the laughter finally subsided. "Fenton, I have to hand it to you. She's everything we asked for. Now let me tell you why we've asked you to come here today," he said, turning his attention to me. "The First Lady is ready to start traveling with the President again. These past few months have been very difficult for her as you might imagine, but she's a trooper and she's willing to give a little campaigning a try. But we can't be sure about her stamina, and it's entirely possible that we might need you to spell her if she gets too tired. Nothing more than sitting or standing next to the President, perhaps shaking a few hands, waving at the crowds, things like that. Do you think you can handle it?"

"Of course, I'd love to. Where will we be going?"

"We're going to Texas."

* * *

Irene was in a tizzy as we packed for my trip. "No wonder they think they'll need you! San Antonio...Houston...Fort Worth...and that's just the first day! Then breakfast in Fort Worth before they fly to Dallas for a motorcade and a luncheon, and finally a weekend with the Vice President at his ranch in Austin! The poor thing will be exhausted."

"That explains why you're packing so many outfits. How will we know which one I'll need?"

"We won't, until the last minute. Maybe we'll get lucky and she won't need you, but I'm guessing that she'll begin to wilt on the second day. Of course, they won't expect you to fill in for her at the Johnson's ranch in Austin, but we have to be ready for you to stand in on a moment's notice before then. Fortunately, we have duplicates of all of the outfits that the First Lady will be taking with her on Air Force One, and you'll just ride along in the back of the plane in case she needs you."

"What should I wear on the plane?"

"Oh, any skirt or dress will do. Just be ready to change on a moment's notice into whatever she has on if she calls for you."