"But how can I pass myself off as a girl?"
Vicki smiled as she buzzed Marilyn.
I followed Marilyn to what seemed like a small beauty parlor. She put a pink smock over my clothes and seated me facing away from the mirror that covered one wall.
"Just relax and leave everything to me." She began to do my makeup!
After my hair was combed and sprayed in fair imitation of a pixie cut. Marilyn turned my chair to the mirror. I was suddenly convinced that Vicki Fairmont wasn't totally mad and that I just might make it as a girl. The understated makeup was just right for a girl in her early teens. The klutzy eighteen year old boy was gone without a trace. His awkward grimace was replaced by a flirtatious smile. It was as if I went back to fourteen or fifteen years old in an instant. A touch of eyeliner, lipstick and what I later learned was blush brought out the best of my very fine, even delicate features. But then again, I thought, putting on makeup isn't quite the same as putting on girl's clothes and going out into the world, especially not as an undercover girl investigator.