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“Don’t you think it’s queer,” Jo said, “that both of us have names that could be for either a boy or a girl?”
“What, Josephine and Theodore?” Laurie teased. She laughed.
“You know what I mean. Jo and Laurie. If someone didn’t know, they might think you were the girl and me the boy.” She let out a sigh. “Sometimes I think it would be easier if I was a boy then I could go on adventures instead of poking around the house. And you’d like being a girl, I know it. You could be as romantic and sentimental as you liked and no one would think anything of it. It would be wonderful. Oh, Laurie, why don’t we try it? We’ll put you in one of my dresses and I’ll wear your trousers!”
“We can’t do that.”
“Why ever not? It’ll be like being in a play, we do that all the time. Except it’ll be just for us, no audience. Come on. I’ll pick out you out a frock.”
Laurie let himself be swept along. There really was no resisting Jo when she got an idea in her head. She presented him with one of her finest dresses in a rich shade of cranberry red decorated with black piping and jet buttons. She helped him with the stays and the petticoats and all the fussy fastening involved. He was slender enough that it fit beautifully and she clapped her hands when she saw him in it.
“Perfect,” she said as she pulled on his discarded garments. “It brings out the color in your cheeks beautifully. Or are you blushing?”
“Of course I’m blushing,” he said as Jo tucked her thick mane of hair under his cap and straightened his tie at her throat. “I’m wearing a dress and…”
“And…”
“I rather like it.” He twirled around elegantly so the skirts puffed out and waved his arms gracefully as he turned.
“Well I certainly like your clothes,” Jo said. “I can move so freely. There’s no way I could do this in skirts.” And taking a running start, she leapt into the air landing in Laurie’s arms. He lost his balance and the two of them crashed down onto the sofa, she on top, straddling him.
“You make a fresh boy, Jo March,” Laurie laughed.
“Is this fresh enough for you?” She asked then she leaned down and kissed him on the mouth, her hands caressing his narrow chest through the bodice of her dress. He opened his lips to her and their tongues entwined. She rocked against him, delighted by the sensation, by her own boldness. Dressed as a boy, she felt invincible. Through the skirts, she felt his arousal but she no longer cared what was proper. She bucked against him with all her wiry strength, and he shuddered beneath her, spilling seed onto her petticoats. Jo doffed his cap, let her long hair fall down over her shoulders, covering them both like a veil as they kissed.
Finally she hopped off of him, eyes bright and merry. “What fun,” she said. “We must do it again.” Then she looked at him, still lying on the sofa. His brown curls spread out on the cushion, a dreamy look in his eye. She realized it had been more to him than it had been to her. More than an intoxicating romp, a forbidden game, a bit of rainy day mischief. She wanted him to be her friend, her play fellow, her best chum, not a lovelorn maiden for pining for her.
As much as she’d enjoyed their adventure, perhaps it would be best if they didn’t do it again after all.