Chapter Text
Paul looked himself over in the mirror. He was going out with friends to see some band perform at some rinky dink bar. It had taken some cajoling to get his dad to let him go. Paul was his only daughter after all. Though in the house and to most people he was Janine, a kind, considerate, and obedient girl. And to exactly no one but himself he was Paul.
He had on subtle makeup and a nondescript pink dress with a matching cardigan. He looked like a model of femininity, except that he’d cut his hair very short, having begged a classmate to do it. It was apparently very fashionable in France. He grabbed his purse and made his way downstairs. Dinner had been cooked, dishes done, and the laundry hung out to dry, conditions made by his father before being allowed to go out. He was, after all, the woman of the house now and thereby needed to take on the housekeeping duties.
“I’m going out, dad!” he called out as he reached the door, putting on his clip on earrings before reaching for the doorknob.
Jim came to the living room, looking at Paul with some sort of trepidation. Mike never got looked at like that. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“ Yes dad,” He sighed, “I’ll be with friends, I won’t talk to strangers, and I won’t accept strange drinks.”
“And be home by midnight,” Jim added.
“I will be I promise,” he flashed a quick smile and left before his dad could add anything to the list of warnings, or shortened his curfew.
He shut the door tightly and took a deep breath. It was 7 and the fall air was already damp and chilly. He pulled his cardigan closer and began to walk to the bus stop, he’d be meeting his friends at the bar. The click of his heels on the pavement offered the only sound outside of cars driving by, occasionally honking at him.
He sat at the bus stop, pulling out Jack Kerouac’s On the Road to read while waiting. It was dark but the lights from street lamps offered enough to read by. He looked up when the right bus pulled up and paid his fare before going to sit in the upper section, watching the world pass by during the journey. He disembarked and pulled out the bar’s name and address that a friend had scribbled on a piece of paper. It didn’t take long to find it and waiting outside for him were his friends.
“Hey,” he smiled and greeted the other two.
“You made it!” Elise smiled, “I wasn’t sure your dad was going to let you come. He’s so tight fisted with your time since your mom…” she trailed off.
“It took some convincing,” Paul chuckled, “But I was allowed out of my tower.”
“Let’s go in,” Ronnie smiled, “I hear these guys are the hot shit.”
Paul and Elise nodded, following Ronnie’s lead. Paul really admired her, she was one of those teddy girls. She wore dark clothes and she just didn’t care what other people thought. Paul cared so much, too much maybe, but part of him was afraid of letting slip what he knew to be true inside about himself. So he maintained a model of perfect femininity. Soft colors, soft makeup, outside from his hair, he tried to look like a respectable young woman.
They took a seat at a table close to the stage and Elise went to get them all beers.
“How are your classes going, Jan?” Ronnie asked. She offered Paul a cigarette and he gratefully took one. Though his dad didn’t know he smoked.
“They’re good, passing everything, my dad would kill me if I failed my classes.”
“Your dad’s such a hardass,” Ronnie frowned, pulling out a lighter, lighting her own cigarette and then Paul’s. “Pass your classes, take care of me and Mike, and be perfect,” Ronnie did her best mocking impression of Jim.
“I’m his only daughter,” the thought made Paul cringe. “He’s just protective.”
Ronnie rolled her eyes. “You’ll go to uni, get that music teacher degree, and then you’ll be a school teacher until you marry some fuckin’ dock worker and then he’ll knock you up and you’ll quit, be a stay at home mum. I mean fuck girl, your whole life is planned out for you!”
“It’s not!” Paul flushed. He pursed his lips, glaring at the table.
Ronnie shook her head. “It’s just… it’s the 50s, Jan. You can be more than what your dad’s planned out for you.”
“I’ve got our drinks!” Elise grinned, setting down the mugs of beer before pausing. “Ronnie, did you upset Jan?”
“She didn’t upset me,” Paul pulled his mug of beer to himself, still scowling. “She just cares a lot about my wellbeing.”
“Exactly,” Ronnie shook her head.
Paul glanced up from his brooding as he saw the band getting onto stage and setting up. “Is this them?” Paul asked Ronnie.
“Yeah,” she grinned, “I’ve watched them before I think you’ll really like them.”
“I hope so,” Paul leaned back. He had a pretty high bar for music in his opinion, though Ronnie had never steered him wrong.
The band looked to be a group of scruffy Liverpool boys, about what would be expected, after all. So they either sounded good or actually sounded awful. Ronnie did say they were good but anyone could sound good when drunk or high. Paul’s eyes caught with one of the young men on stage, who paused and took a very long moment to look him over.
Ronnie grinned and gave Paul a friendly shove. “That’s John, he’s the band leader.”
Paul blushed and John quickly looked away. He was very handsome and attractive, and Paul was attracted to other men. Helped him pass for sure. He saw John sneak another glance at him. It was flattering but he also knew that if he looked like he wanted to John would never have given him the time of day. John was almost certainly not gay and only liked him because he looked like a soft and beautiful girl.
“You should talk to him after they play,” Elise grinned. “He’s clearly eying you.”
“I told my dad I wouldn’t talk to strangers,” He wasn’t sure how much he’d meant the promise but it did feel weird to betray his dad’s trust.
Ronnie rolled her eyes, “You’re not a nun, come on you can’t live in a cloister of your own making. You’re an attractive young person, he’s an attractive young person…”
“If I say I’ll think about it will you two stop?”
“We’ll think about it,” Ronnie grinned.
“Fine,” Paul sighed, turning from his friends and towards the stage as the band looked like they were about to start playing.
They were actually quite good. Ronnie hadn’t been wrong. Paul was into blues and rock and this band, while not perfect, did pretty well. Though the quality did decrease a little as they kept drinking. But it was fine and fun to be out. Especially as John kept sneaking glances at him, even throwing him a wink. It was enough that he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his friends.
The band finished pretty late. Late enough that Paul knew he should catch the bus if he wanted to get home in time. He had finished his drink a while ago and had only had the one, even as his friends continued to drink. So they were perhaps more loose and inclined to encourage Paul into something he probably didn’t have time to do. He began to gather his things and stuff them into his purse, pulling out just enough money for the bus fare home.
“You’re not leaving already,” the voice sounded like Ronnie but the voice was certainly not, it was deeper and definitely more drunk.
Paul turned, face red. “I have to catch the bus. You put on a very good show.”
“Thanks, I know,” John reached out and took his wrist, “Won’t you have one drink with me, love?”
Paul felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. Though John was a little obnoxious, “I have to leave.” He caught Ronnie rolling her eyes but she said nothing.
“Please?” John looked almost pathetic begging Paul, but Paul was very attracted to him, so he didn’t put too much stock into his desperation.
“No, now please, I need to catch my bus,” he looked at his watch, if he hurried he’d make it.
“Can I have your name at least?”
“I, uh,” Paul hesitated, “It’s Janine.”
“Janine,” John repeated. “That’s a beautiful name.” His words came out rather slurred.
“Thanks,” he grinned uncomfortably and retracted his hand. “Have a good night, John.” He waved to Elise and Ronnie as he left. He walked quickly and turned into a sprint right as the bus looked almost like it was going to leave the stop. He caught it and sighed as he sat.
He stared out the window. Fantasies of what could have happened had he stayed playing in his mind. Would John have wanted to fuck him? Would he have let John fuck him? Probably he decided. He wasn’t a virgin, again something his dad didn’t know about him. To be fair that wasn’t exactly information he just volunteered. But he might not have wanted to sleep with John so drunk. He’d reeked anyway. Of body odor, sweat, stale cigarettes and beer. Not exactly appealing. Maybe he could go to another show.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts about the boy with the beautiful hair that he almost missed his stop. But he pulled the wire and the bus stopped and he exited the bus and made the short walk home, holding tightly his keys in case someone tried to give him trouble. It was always a little scary walking places at night. He arrived at his house with fifteen minutes to spare and quietly opened the door to let himself in. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself or wake anyone in the dark house.
He crept up the stairs, avoiding the particularly creaky spots, and went to his bedroom. He flicked on the light and began to get out of his clothes, taking off the cardigan and unzipping the dress and letting it fall off his form onto the ground. He looked himself over as he stood in front of his mirror in his garters underwear and bra. He had a beautiful body and it was totally wasted on him.
He jumped as he heard his door open and he grabbed a blanket off his bed and covered himself up. “Dad!” He hissed.
“Oh, sorry!” Jim covered his eyes and pulled the door almost closed. “Just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“I’m fine, I had a good time, I’ll tell you all about it before school tomorrow.” Paul sighed, “and knock next time, please .”
“I’m your dad-“
“I’m a woman, dad.” Paul felt his stomach knot up. “I’m not five anymore.”
“I’ll knock.” Jim acquiesced. “Good night, sweetheart.”
“Night dad,” Paul breathed a sigh of relief when his dad shut the door. He ignored the mirror in favor of changing into his nightgown, hanging up his clothes and sitting down at his vanity. He grabbed his jar of cold cream and began to smear it onto his face, dissolving the makeup he was wearing before taking a cloth and wiping off the excess. He looked at the cleaned up version of himself staring back at him in the mirror. He certainly looked more like himself. He wiped clean his hands and put them over his breast, pressing them flatter and looking at himself. If only. He’d have given just about anything to look like himself. He dropped his hands and his perky and uncomfortably large chest came back and with that came the upsetting and intrusive thoughts that made Paul decide it was time for bed. He turned off the light and laid down looking up at the ceiling of his room. Sleep would help him forget about those feelings, it always did.