Nobody's Perfect

An imagined sequel to "Some Like It Hot." In the last scene of the movie classic, Daphne has just revealed to Osgood, the lovesick millionaire who asked her to marry him, that she is really a man. To which Osgood replied, "Nobody's perfect."

I was stupefied. Osgood knew that I was masquerading as a woman, and even after seeing me with my wig off and hearing my real voice, he still wanted to marry me!

I turned around, thinking maybe I'd get some support from Joe, but he was locked in a passionate embrace with Sugar, who was kissing him like there'd be no tomorrow. Somehow I knew that from then on, I'd be on my own.

Instinctively, I pulled my wig back onto my head and turned to face Osgood, who was still grinning at me from ear to ear like a mental patient. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" I asked softly, in Daphne's familiar voice.

"My past seven or eight marriages were flops, while not try something a little different?"

"But what will your mother say?"

"Mama is blind as a bat and deaf as a post. Although things would go easier if you were Daphne until after the wedding..."

"This is insane!" I snapped, although still using my Daphne voice. "For starters, I'm not even dressed as a woman right now!" I peeled back my topcoat to reveal my suit. With my wig, makeup and high heels, I looked ridiculous. "How can you possibly be in love with a girl like me?"

Osgood surprised me with a tender kiss on the lips. "Beats me. I don't know why I think you're the berries. Anymore than you know why you're able to pass so easily as a beautiful woman."

"Beautiful, me? You must be crazy," I pouted. Inexplicably, Osgood's kiss had melted my ice cold reserves, maybe just a fraction, but for some reason I was beginning to enjoy our boy/girl conversation, and being called a beautiful woman had a strange effect on me. My sap was starting to rise, not very ladylike!

Osgood kissed me again. "Zowie!" he exclaimed.

"Zowie right back," I sighed, more than a little surprised.

"If you don't want to marry me, why did you say yes?"

"Because you're rich, and I have the underworld on my tail," I wanted to tell him, but I didn't. Instead, I just said, "I honestly don't know. I'm very confused." Which happened to be true.

Osgood eased up on the throttle as we approached his yacht, the New Caledonia. "Well, the first order of business is to buy you a new trousseau, and while we're at it let's do something about that ratty old wig!"

* * *

Years later, Osgood took me out on a movie date to see "The Palm Beach Story." When the scene where Rudy Vallee takes Claudette Colbert on a shopping spree to replace her entire wardrobe came on the screen, Osgood squeezed my knee under my skirt and whispered, "Remind you of something?"

Did it ever! After we dropped off Joe and Sugar in Fort Lauderdale (They were so excited and so in love! And I was feeling so ashamed...I was sure I'd never see either one of them again) I confined myself to a cabin until we docked in Palm Beach later that afternoon. My head was exploding with conflicting thoughts: talk about a turning point in my life! Why not just scrub off my makeup, find a pair of shoes and walk off the boat, a free man? Free, and penniless, with a price on my head...no, maybe the best plan was to hide out as Daphne, for just a little while? Surely once Osgood's mother met me, I'd be out on the street, but he was such a generous soul, he'd probably stake me to some running away money as a farewell gesture. And he did genuinely seem to love me...I felt so cheap, thinking about him as a Sugar Daddy, but that's what he was. And what did that make me?

I heard a gentle tapping on the cabin door. It was Osgood. Somehow he'd found a dress and stockings that one of his ex-wives had left behind, and reluctantly, I accepted them without a word. He winked at me and let himself out of my cabin. With a sigh, I took off my suit, and rolled the stockings up my hairless legs. Was this my future destiny? How I envied Joe, madly in love with the gorgeous Sugar. Maybe their future looked bleak, but at least he was still a guy!

Look at yourself, I told myself sadly as I stepped into my dress and buttoned it up in the back, like I'd been doing this all my life. Do you really want to keep on living as a woman? I suppose I convinced myself that it was only temporary, because by the time I stepped back into my heels and emerged from my cabin, I was feeling almost presentable. The beaming smile on Osgood's face told me that in his eyes at least, I was more than just presentable. There was something about pleasing a man, I was soon to learn, that aroused the inner woman hiding deep inside me, and she was impatient to try out her wings.

"I used Ship-to-Shore to make a few appointments for you," he said as he took my hand and guided me down the gangplank. He noticed me tugging at something under my dress as I tottered along in my heels. "What's the matter?"

"Oh, I don't have any garters to hold up my stockings, and this dress really needs a slip," I complained.

"Don't worry about a thing," he said, patting my hand. "In a few hours, you'll be the best dressed woman in Palm Beach, and that's saying something!" What in the world was I getting myself into?

* * *

Osgood escorted me to his waiting limousine. I'd never been in such a luxurious automobile in my life! The driver tipped his hat to me, and I scrambled awkwardly into the back seat as best I could in my dress.

Our first stop was Burdine's Department Store. If you've seen "The Palm Beach Story" you'll know exactly what I mean when I describe the experience of being literally showered with thousands of dollars of dresses, skirts, blouses, shoes, purses, hats, lingerie, stockings, jewelry, furs (in Florida!) on and on...more than once, I begged Osgood not to spend so much money on me, but there was something intoxicating about trying on all those dresses, he was enjoying himself hugely and he could obviously afford it. If the staff detected that I was a man in women's clothing, the prospect of a big payday was enough for them to keep it discreetly to themselves.

Our next stop was the Palm Beach branch of Abercrombie & Fitch, where Osgood instructed the delighted sales staff to "dress her for my yacht!" Swimsuits, sandals, beach bags and other female paraphernalia were added to the growing pile of boxes and bags while filled every square inch of our limousine.

I was exhausted by the time we pulled up the sweeping driveway to the Breakers Hotel. "I've booked you one of the best suites in the hotel," Osgood explained. "I'll be staying on my yacht. We must maintain appearances, at least until you've met Mama." Before I could say anything, he added, "The chauffeur and bellhops will put away your new things. You've got the last appointment in the Spa, so you should have it to yourself." Bewildered, I just followed him as he led me down a marbled hallway to an elegant room off the lobby.

A matronly woman was expecting us. "Oh, there you are, Mr. Fielding," she said to Osgood. "A few of the girls have agreed to stay late to make sure she gets the royal treatment." Before I could protest, she opened the door to some inner sanctum, and I heard Osgood say, "I'll see you for dinner at nine, Daphne, if I can recognize you," as I was led to my doom.

* * *

Four hours later, I could scarcely recognize myself. Who knew that the ancient Egyptians invented a unique form of torture called body waxing? Or that some genius named Jacob Greene patented a diabolical device he called the "Bosom Form?" The gals at the spa were very professional, and once it became apparent that they knew I was really a guy, I dropped all pretenses and just went along with the flow. Plucked and pampered, I was slowly transformed into an entirely different person, complete with varnished fingernails and a new stash of makeup - much more elegant - and the topper, literally, was a fabulously lifelike wig that Osgood had ordered to replace my "ratty old" one.

I was exhausted when I finally entered my suite. It was enormous, beautifully furnished, with a spectacular view of the Atlantic Ocean. But I scarcely had time to enjoy it, if I was going to be ready for dinner with Osgood at nine. All of my skirts and dresses had been hung in the oversized closet, and my lingerie and stockings had been neatly put away in dresser drawers.

After placing my new makeup on the vanity counter, I drew a bubble bath and let myself sink into the giant tub, relaxing for the first time in - what - how many days since Joe and I had stumbled upon the crime now known infamously as the St. Valentine's Day Massacre? Well, one thing was for sure: with my new look, as long as I had Osgood to watch over me, there was little chance those goons from Chicago would see through my disguise.

My body was now completely hairless, from tip to toe, except for my head and eyebrows, and after treating myself to some sinfully luxurious moisturizer the hotel provided, I sat down on a tuffet next to the vanity and experimented with my new makeup. The spa ladies had recommended a slightly softer look, and I was pleased with the final results after I painted my lips a bright pink. And I was astonished once again when I tugged on my new wig, a stylish bob that made my face look ridiculously cute.

Time to get dressed! Rummaging through the dresser drawers, I finally selected a brassiere-corset combination called a corselette that filled out nicely with my new Bosom Forms, a garter belt, and a full slip. Gingerly opening a package of shockingly expensive silk stockings, I slowly eased them up my legs before fastening them carefully to my garter tabs. My legs looked sensational, and felt delicious! After I dropped my slip over my head, I sifted through my closet full of dresses, finally selecting a knee-length flapper dress with a drop waist that fit me like a glove. After I stepped into some heels, draped a long necklace over my dress and clipped on some earrings, I put on gloves and a cloche hat and walked over to the full-length mirror in the bathroom to inspect the final result.

I was stunned by my reflection. The old Daphne had been a marginally pretty woman on her best day, who looked like she should be playing a base fiddle. The Daphne I was looking at now looked like she belonged on the arm of a millionaire, on the way to his yacht. Which was exactly the woman I was on my way to becoming, if I was crazy enough to let this fantasy get the better of me.

I was startled by a tap on the door. Was it nine o'clock already? I opened it an inch and an orchid slipped through the crack, followed by the arm of Osgood Fielding III, resplendent in a white dinner jacket. "Pardon me miss, but I was looking for a girl named Daphne," he smiled.

It took me a moment to catch on. "Do I really look so different?" I asked him, already knowing the answer.

"You were lovely today, and you're even lovelier tonight," he said as he fastened the orchid to my dress. "There. Some women can wear a flower, but this flower is wearing you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're turning my mind into mush! Come, my dear, our dinner reservation awaits. Oh wait, I almost forgot!" He reached into his pocket and produced a jewelry box. I opened it and there was a diamond bracelet, identical to the once he'd given me the night before. The one that Joe had stolen and given to Sugar. "There, now everybody's happy."

I actually felt a tear forming in my eye. "Oh Osgood, I've never met anyone like you! You're just the nicest, sweetest man..." I kissed him on the cheek, then removed the handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped off my lipstick. I carefully retucked it back into his pocket and took his arm. "Take me to dinner, Mr. Fielding."

"Zowie!" Osgood said.

* * *

The next morning, I slept until almost noon in the most comfortable bed I'd ever spent the night in. Throwing back the covers, I glanced down at my long satin nightgown and sighed.

Where were Joe and Sugar right now, I wondered? Had they been able to fence my diamond necklace for enough cash to make their getaway? No matter how far they'd gotten, or how lucky they might have been, there was no way they could be living anywhere close to the kind of luxury that I'd landed in. Okay, so maybe there were some downsides - like having to dress and live as a girl - but those downsides were growing on me as I opened the draperies and gazed out at the Atlantic Ocean as far as the eye could see.

My thoughts returned to my dinner last night with Osgood. He squired me to a window table in the lavish hotel restaurant, which was set with more china, crystal and linen than I'd ever seen in my life. After Osgood ordered martinis, I fumbled in my purse for a cigarette, realizing that I was fresh out of them. Sensing my problem, Osgood snapped his fingers at a passing waiter, and whispered a few words into his ear. We made small talk until, a few minutes later, the waiter returned with a package of Luckies and a long silver cigarette holder.

Osgood took my cigarettes and holder, opened the package, inserted and lit a cigarette and returned the holder to me. I experimented with feminine ways to hold it while Osgood removed a shorter cigarette holder and a pack of cigarettes from one of his pockets and lit one for himself.

"You look very ladylike, my dear," Osgood beamed.

"Why is my holder longer than yours?"

"Well, they say it's to keep a stray ash from falling on your dress, but perhaps there's a hidden symbolism."

"Are you trying to tell me that I'm...bigger than you are, Osgood?"

"There's only one way to find out for sure."

"What kind of girl do you think I am?"

He reached out and touched my gloved hand. "Cute. Spunky. A little unsure of herself, but coming on strong."

I felt the strangest tingling under my corselette...

* * *

Dinner was surprisingly relaxing. After being on the run for so long, it was heavenly just to sit back in my dress, kick off my heels (nobody noticed, and my feet were killing me) and let Osgood tell me about his kooky family. An only child, he was the son of descendants who put to sea on the Mayflower, and the heir to a vast fortune that included railroads, steamships and hotels. His father, Osgood Fielding, Jr., had been lost on the Titanic in 1912 while returning from a business trip to Europe, thrusting Osgood onto the Fielding throne at the tender age of 38. By then, he'd flunked out of Princeton and had been married, and divorced, five times - the longest marriage had lasted six months, and there were no children from any of them - and his bad luck in the matrimony and patrimony department continued after he took the reins of the Fielding empire. Most of his ex-wives had remarried gigolos and were living happy lives.

"Why did your wives divorce you?" I had to ask him.

"Mama," Osgood said.

"Your mother wrecked all of your marriages?"

"She's very particular."

His mother's domination boggled my mind. "How about your business? Does she stick her nose in that too? I asked snidely.

If Osgood was offended, he didn't show it. "Oh, I haven't been involved in the day-to-day for years. There's a board of trustees that runs everything. Mama is the Chairwoman, of course."

"Of course. Where does that leave you?"

"Mama has me on a strict allowance of $500,000 a year."

I was beginning to understand. "Does that take care of your many alimonies?"

"Gosh no, those were all lump sum payments made after our actuaries calculated the net present value of future distributions."

My little mind was spinning. All I had to do was trick Osgood's mother into thinking I was a woman long enough to get hitched, and I'd be on easy street for the rest of my life. And in the meantime, I'd be living the life of Riley as Osgood's girlfriend, in pretty dresses and sheer silk stockings. Things were looking up!

***

After a lovely dinner, Osgood helped Cinderella (me) put her high heels back on and we promenaded around the grounds in the moonlight before he escorted me up to my suite. Standing at the door, I had a decision to make. Osgood made it for me. He took the key from my hand, unlocked the door and followed me inside. "I told the manager to treat you like a princess. Is everything satisfactory?"

So this is what it's like to be a kept woman, I said to myself. "It's heavenly, Osgood. You should've have." He spun me around and kissed me gently on the lips, and I figured I'd better respond, which wasn't half bad. He was a very good kisser!

I broke away, saying, "There's champagne in an ice bucket, you open and I'll pour." While Osgood busied himself with the bottle, I tried to gameplan how far I should let him go with me... I found some glasses and Osgood filled them up. Then I sat down nervously on one of the sofas, and Osgood was on me in a flash. We kissed again, and I let his hands stray. He caressed my fake breasts, and started to slide a hand under my dress until I swatted it. "Behave yourself!" I scolded him. Like a good boy, he complied.

His hand returned to my breasts. "Do we have my friends in the spa to thank for these?"

"Um hmm."

"They're amazing, how do they work?"

"Sort of like giant suction cups."

"Suction, I thought you'd never ask..."

"Osgood, you're incorrigible! If I'm going to be wife number eight or nine, we're going to have to take things nice and slow."

"I can live with that." He kissed me again, a long, lovely kiss. "Zowie!" he sighed when we finally came up for air.

***

The telephone rang, breaking my reverie of the night before. It was Osgood, calling from his yacht on Ship to Shore. "Good morning, my sweet, or is it afternoon already?" he slurred.

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "Twelve sharp. Have you been drinking?"

"I never start before eleven. Let's meet for a late lunch."

"I thought you'd never ask."

"I'll have a little surprise for you. Wear something pretty."

"All of my new dresses are pretty, you bought them for me."

"True. Wear that pink one. I loved you in it. Very sweet and virginal."

"Sweet and virginal. That's me."

"My driver will be out front at 1:00."

"Yes, sir! Gotta make myself beautiful, bye."

***

One hour later, a happy and confident young woman stepped outside the Breakers Hotel and looked right and left for her car and driver. She was lovely in a soft pink dress, matching cloche hat and delicate silk stockings, her wine red heels matching her purse. Underneath her dress were a pink corselette, garterbelt and slip. Underneath her corselette was something far more shocking.

The young woman, of course, was me. I'd attended to my female ablutions and dressed myself quickly, and for the first time, my feminization felt normal to me, as if being a woman was becoming second nature to me. My confidence came from my growing knowledge that, thanks to the thousands of dollars Osgood had spent on my hair, clothes, and makeup, I'd become undetectable as the man I used to be - a man with a bullseye on his back.

My happiness was harder for me to comprehend, because Jerry had never been a particularly happy person. But my life was so different now! Whether it was the slower pace, the intoxication of wealth, or the seduction of dressing myself in incredibly sexy clothes, I couldn't say. Nor could I deny my growing attraction to Osgood. He was nutty in a lovable way, depressingly vulnerable to his domineering mother, and more fun than a barrel of monkeys.

I had no idea what kind of surprise Osgood was planning for me, but I was hoping he was going to give me a ring! I'd never been attracted to a man in my life, but something was happening to me that I didn't understand. I tried to convince myself that it was all an act, which I'd be able to switch off the moment I got my obscene check for bowing out of his life as ex-wife number eight or nine, but in the meantime I was having the time of my life.