Panties and Bras

The Confrontation with Clairice

An Autobiographical Sketch

When I was very young, I saw a motion picture in which there was a frantic pursuit in a major American city by two armed detectives trying to capture a fleeing criminal. The criminal ran madly through traffic, leapt over hoods of automobiles and knocked people over as he pushed them out of the way. It was extremely tense and dramatic. Finally, the criminal came upon a subway station, raced down the stairs and jumped over the turnstile, entering upon the platform, where a subway train was standing with the doors open. He dashed in just as the doors closed and the train began to move. The two armed detectives arrived on the platform just in time to watch the departing train from a distance. So they were left standing there while the criminal, no doubt exultant and joyous, escaped to safety. Of course, the detectives would have had no idea where the criminal would detrain and they would hardly have had time to call headquarters to have them send police officers to every station ahead on the metro line. So the criminal would be able to get off, proceed to a cross-country bus or train terminal, or to an airport,  and leave town.

It was just one of those things I remembered, not terribly important to me.

But I had a very similar experience years later. I was working in New York City as a clown passing out flyers in mid-Manhattan. I had on a fluffy wig, a lot of makeup and lipstick and girls’ clothes, aiming to be pretty rather than amusing or ridiculous.

When I finished for the day, I went to Greenwich Village for some reason I can’t recall. I do recall standing at the corner of MacDougal Street and Washington Place, under a bright mercury vapor lamp, talking to three or four people.

Suddenly a black girl about 15 years old--let me call her Clairice--came walking up quickly and said to me, “Homegirl or homeboy, I’m going to kick your ass.” She stood about 5’-1” tall and weighed about 110 pounds, whereas I was 5’-10” tall and weighed 150 pounds. So I was about 9 inches taller than she, and I outweighed her by about 40 pounds. But that’s not a great enough advantage, because I am very weak and timid. A girl much smaller than Clairice had humiliated me several months earlier.

But I was not scared, because I didn’t think Clairice was threatening me seriously. I took her threat as just a joke. She seemed to be teasing me just for her own amusement.

Nonetheless, I decided to slip discreetly away lest we start a verbal exchange that could lead to something serious. So I walked calmly west along Washington Place, on the north side of the street.

I could sense that Clairice was walking behind me, but I didn’t know whether she was following me deliberately or whether she just happened to be walking in the same direction. So I decided to cross to the south side of Washington Place, by walking between parked cars on both sides of the street.

Clairice crossed too and continued walking behind me. I quickened my pace and she quickened hers too. So it seemed that she was indeed following me, perhaps intending to “kick my ass”.

I compliment myself that, at this point, I considered stopping right where I was, turning around to confront Clairice and demanding that she cease following me. This seemed like the way that I should act in the circumstances, placid and brave.

But thinking it over for a second or two, I suddenly appreciated the fact that, if I turned around to face her, she might attack me. Then what would I do? Drop to the sidewalk and roll up in a ball? Start whining, pleading and bawling? If she beat me, she could soil or tear my new clothes, perhaps give me black eyes or knock out a couple of teeth. If she rapped me sharply on the left temple of my forehead with the knuckles of her right hand, she could sprawl me on the sidewalk unconscious. Such a result would not be very acceptable.

Finally, I decided that the most sensible way to deal with the situation was to break into a light trot. Undoubtedly when she saw me jogging away, she’d just abandon her plan to beat me up.

But no! She began trotting after me. By now I was in a horrible panic and began to run as fast as my legs would carry me. Clairice came running after me.

I got as far as the Avenue of the Americas, where I saw the entrance to the Eighth Street subway station a few feet ahead. So I entered and hurried down the stairs. I don't have the nerve to jump over any turnstiles, but I was lucky enough to reach into my pocket and find a subway token.

I entered on the platform, saw a train standing with the doors open, and I boarded, just as the doors closed and the train rolled away. As I looked out the window of the departing train, I saw the frustrated little terrorist standing helplessly on the platform.

So I could appreciate the sense of relief that the criminal in the movie had felt escaping the armed detectives. Though I was chased by just a single unarmed girl much smaller than I, my feeling of horror was exactly the same as the criminal’s.

Reliving that frightful experience in my mind for several years, I finally concluded that a girl like Clairice might derive sexual pleasure from beating up someone much larger than herself. So when she saw what she considered a five-star sissy, she felt a rush of adrenalin or some other hormone that prompted her to attack. She made herself the cat in a game of cat and mouse, so I had no choice but to be the mouse. I'm always the mouse. There's something about me that brings out the cat in other people, so that I have to be the mouse. But I don't mind. I accept this role. I would feel guilty playing the cat. But I'm quite comfortable as the mouse.

Clairice and I played a game of cat and mouse

Whether or not you approve of Clairice's attitude on moral grounds, you can't help admiring her ability to challenge and terrorize someone so much larger than herself. So, in a way, I was glad to be able to give her the opportunity to show off her prowess and bravery. In an ordinary confrontation, since I was so much larger than Clairice, I would have dismissed her threat contemptuously, and no one would have thought a thing of it. However, in the confrontation between Clairice and myself, the very fact that I was so much larger than she made her look remarkable. When people saw her chasing a big sissy down the street, naturally they looked around in astonishment and admiration. In order for Clairice to win this kind of respect, it was necessary for me to act like an absolute and total sissy, and this is what I'm good at.

Five-Star Sissy

(1143 Words)



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