Rights reserved by author, permission granted to Big Closet
This adventure is another dive into unreality where we examine the events effecting two primary characters. The point of view is through the first person view of these characters. We have Andrew Lyons a seventeen year old male high school honors student in his senior year. His associate is also a seventeen years old. She is female high school honors senior named Jean Phillips. The two are the major players who tell you their stories. They are not alone. A narrator used sparingly fills in the gaps. The narrator expresses his distaste of being forced to participate by reading this story. There is always a critic. This adventure carries with it a warning. Characters are prone to swear on occasion. There is one section in chapter two where a sexual encounter is described (gently) and in chapter six the threat or attempt of rape is discussed. It is light regarding the graphical description of rape but heavy in the terror aspect.
The tale is complete filling eight chapters of equal size. It is approximately the same length as “Bracelets” my story of a few months back. 50,662 words total. Each chapter is about 6300 words and will appear every four or five days. Depending on how long it takes to complete a final edit prior to listing. Serious comments about the direction of this story may be incorporated or included as last minute changes if the ideas offered work with what the author has in mind.
Andrew Lyons: Beginnings to Early October
Essentially my story is coming to a conclusion. My reckless adventure landed me in a place I could not possibly predict. Either my life as I’ve known it is over or it’s at a new beginning. Whatever; shit, I’ve been saying that word more and more, it is upsetting shaking me at my core. I have to stop this; I’m getting strange glances every time I say it. Oh well, recently I learned something most people know or should know. Never, ever open spam mail. The beginning is the best place to start as they say. I’ve been trained to excuse every act as we are not responsible for what we do. It is always somebody else’s fault. My parents refined deflecting into an art form. It is the primary reason they are in jail never to see the light of day. Most likely the reason my last month or so created so much confusion and turmoil. It is like I’d been swimming through a fog.
It all began on a late dark stormy night as all good horror stories have their beginnings. Mom and dad Lyons were, no are what is known as Grifters. They never earned an honest buck in their sorry lives. Recent results verify they were less than perfect at their craft. I do not remember a day of my life when we were not on welfare. It’s not all bad we did have good days like the time dad got me this nifty laptop from Walmart. Some poor sap bought a new machine and somehow dad distracted him while mom liberated the computer. It is one of his specialties otherwise known as the bait and switch. Dad ran on about extended warrantees while wearing one of those nifty blue Walmart vest. During the process mom lifted the mark’s full Toshiba box from his cart. She exchanged it for an empty one. While dad is talking he substituted the sales slip the mark had for a bogus one of dad’s own. They merrily walked out of Walmart with a new laptop complete with sales slip. That was the last birthday present I ever received. It was my seventeenth before beginning senior year. Oh, when was that? My birthday was back in the spring. It seems as if it’s a lifetime ago.
Somewhere in early October the cops raided our house cleaning out almost everything except my hot laptop. I’m a private type guy with hundreds of secret places hidden around the house. I learned long ago not to trust anyone. That is why my computer was hidden so well. The good news from all of this is mom was at least looking out for me. She did on some level because they’d never involved me in any of their scams, except once or twice. It pissed dad off because he believed he should teach his son a trade. Grifting is all either of them knew.
Those are the last words you will hear about my parents, because their behavior caused me to pay the price. Even though they let me play sometimes they were never caught when I was part of their game. Out of loyalty I could or would not testify against them. My Initial reaction had been they will be out soon, they always were. I can take care of myself in the meantime. As happy as I was to be left alone a nasty missive quickly slapped me in the face. Remember I mentioned the welfare? If you are not familiar with that dysfunctional cabal consider yourself fortunate. No sooner were my parents hauled off to a state run residence the welfare sent a case closing notice. They will cut off rent payments at the end of the month. Without resources this sweet gig will not last long. I can expect to be homeless come November 1.
Slinging burgers for minimum wage will provide spending money. It sure as hell won’t pay the rent. Being a realest I packed up my most valuable belongings which is not much expecting to become homeless. Mom and dad taught me pack light and be ready to move at a moment’s notice. I never counted on the next assault from the welfare. When will these fools ever learn to leave well enough alone? They just got out from under one thousand per month cash payments and five hundred in food stamps. They closed the free health care as well. No more Medicaid, like it matters. There is not a single doctor in town who will accept that garbage plan. I should have been angry over my parents leaving me high and dry. I hadn’t even begun flipping burgers and already learned a valuable lesson. The welfare gig pays a lot better for nothing. Like I said social services can never leave well enough alone.
Here I am almost at the end of the month meaning there will be no checks, no food stamps and no clue. Then the blue mini van shows up at school coming to the rescue. Within a hundred feet of my school stoners hide in an alley, drug dealers conduct business in dark corners. Pimps hustle their terrified sister and misguided brothers for that matter. None of that goes on in my school. The halls are patrolled by nuns with big blackboard pokers. These fools at the cop shop and welfare are blind to serious shit going down all around them. What do they do? They come to get me a straight A student with no disciplinary issues while walking right past the miscreants invisible to them. I worked hard at being invisible and thought I had honed my craft. I found out otherwise when Miss Nigel showed up. I saw a woman leaving no doubt why at fifty she is still a miss or is it mess? She stands five foot nothing weighting two hundred plus pounds leaning on a cane to prop herself up. She even has a handicapped sticker on her van. She hustled me out of school in front of everybody. It was so embarrassing to be forced to sit in the back of a blue mini van while every preppy gawked. The only thing she did not do was drag me out by the ears. That act is reserved to the nuns.
I did laugh when I saw the driver’s seat pop a spring as her fat ass landed on it. How in the hell can somebody in that condition tell me I am in need of help? Anyway she drags me into Family Court because of some stupid child protection crap. They had it all worked out I’m to be shipped off to a foster home with a dozen other kids crammed into a shoe horn. That is until the fools gave me a lawyer. The guy tells me he is my law guardian. He is going to protect my rights. So somebody finally figured out I have rights. The almost a lawyer is about to ship me off and collect his fee to be done with it.
What I did not know at the time is these family court law guardians work on the Hey You schedule. That is why none of them walk down the hall passing the judge’s office when on their own time. Because they are lawyers the county requires them to serve as law guardians for kids like me. The problem is they do not get paid. It is their duty to the county bar. There is also no schedule meaning everybody hauled into court for day has to be there at nine am. You sit in a waiting room with every other victim until the judge decides on hearing your case. The bottom line is Mister Law Guardian may get stuck hanging around all day getting paid zip. The way it works is the judge tries to cut deals calling in the lawyer, welfare worker and a probation officer. They cut a deal and the case goes away. No deal and you wait longer. What lawyer is not going to cut a deal so he can get the hell out of there to make real money?
The lawyer, I forget his name it does not matter what he is called. For crying out loud I’d have been better off with Danny Devito. Anyway the sleazy cheap suit tells me it will all work out not to worry he is going to cut a deal with the judge. I trust him like a shark or somebody in my father’s business. I dig out a quarter to call the school to talk to Sister Martha my counselor. I tell her where I am hoping she can put in a good word for me.
In the meantime they worked out a deal where I’d cop a plea to being destitute and guilty of having jailed parents or something. Deal making took place in the judge’s chambers. Talk about politicians in smoke filled rooms. They would not let me in the meeting because only interested parties are admitted to chambers. I heard the CPS flunky say “It is on a need to know basis.” Like I don’t need to know what they have planned for me. All smug and self righteous they file in the court room as I’m sitting there with the bailiff. When my lawyer drops into a chair next to me saying everything worked out. It is good to know my lawyer is protecting my rights by agreeing to everything these guys these guys want. It does not take the brightest bulb to figure out the guy in the cheap suit is only interested in making this go away so he can move onto the next sad sack.
Then it all went bad. Bad for do gooders incorporated. The judge asked if I had any questions before I became a ward of the state. I only had one. I live in not the best of neighborhoods so I hear these kids talking. I learned long ago what the important questions are. The judge is ready to pound the gavel, unless that’s only done on TV for dramatic moments, when he made his inquiry. No one had given me any say or shown interest about what I thought. The judge must be required to get me on the record to make this scam look good. Most kids would freak out or just nod trying to fade into the woodwork.
“Yes your honor I have a question sir.” He smiled while raising his brows. I told you I was a straight A student. “You can call Sister Martha at St Michaels she will verify. She is my counselor and is waiting for your call.” Straight A students know you suck up to judges and apply groveling when needed. I learned the last from my father the failed Grifter. While he is thinking about making that call, his doubtful expression suggest he might not I threw out my second question. “I understand foster Care stops at age sixteen, your honor.”
Judge Olson peered over his glasses gazing down from his perch nodding. He appeared to be deep in thought. Long silent moments of pondering are something they teach in Judge School. “Yes son a child can only be placed in foster care after they turn sixteen on a voluntarily basis. As you probably know we can’t require children to attend school once they reach sixteen. You will have to go to school and reside in Foster Care until then. When do you turn sixteen?”
I smiled humbly answering with my best Parochial School voice like this guy was Sister Pious. “Last year sir I am a senior honors student at St. Michaels. I will be eighteen this coming spring.”
The temperature in the room dropped fifty degrees it could have snowed in here. Now the judge is dialing the phone. “Sister Martha please,” a pause, “Sister Martha, this is Judge Maurice Olson at Family Court. I understand you have a student named Andrew Lyons. You do, uh huh. You don’t say, straight A’s, no discipline issues, ever?” Another pause while rubbing his chin, sister must be giving him an earful. “Really, likely valedictorian. Thank you sister could you forward his latest report card? Certainly sister I understand.”
I really wanted to laugh when the judge’s icy stare focused on Miss Niger. “Ms Niger did you take even a cursory glance at this lad’s grades? Did you happen to notice or catch a hint of what is written on his birth certificate? While I am at it Counselor Brown did you question any of this?”
Stone silence, excuses and backtracking followed. I had no idea the tremendous backlog that exists at the welfare office or how over worked underpaid lawyers are. I will cross them off my list of career choices. The judge now in possession of those two documents asks me another question.
“I see your parents are in prison. How do you support yourself and is your tuition paid?”
“Well your honor until the end of this month we have Aid to Dependent Children but the letter came canceling it. Would you like to see it? November first will end any welfare checks so regarding income my answer will have to be no. Yes my parents paid tuition for the full year before the beginning of school. I will get a job at Burger king so I can pay the rent. All the landlord is interested in is prompt payment.”
The Judge, I forget his name looked coldly at the fat woman. “You know what this means. Under regulation 682.4 and point 5,” his voice rose when he said point five. Point five must be a whopper. “The agency is required to continue rent payments as long as this lad attends school. The state placed his parents in jail while the child is a recipient of AFDC. His record indicates he is attending school everyday. I am issuing an order that the agency continue payments as they are until the end of the school year. Miss Nigel please refrain from wasting the courts time in the future. The case against Andrew Lyons is dismissed. Keep up the good work son. Andrew your Sister Martha is quite a stickler for the rules. Would you do me a favor? Sign a release so Sister Martha can send me a copy of your transcript. It might be a good idea if you need a representative in court to ask her.”
Keep up the good work, yeah right. In other words keep your head down and don’t make waves. Sure I will sign that thing for the judge. I don’t want to piss him off. Like I said it is always a good move to keep the judge happy. The landlord is happy. He does not have to close the place up and lose a month or two of rent. The joint won’t be empty and his direct payments will keep coming in without problems. The Welfare had to do that because the old man was always trying to make a big score. Paying the rent was never high on the list. After years of welfare, second generation I think, the agency knew enough to deduct rent and power bills from his allowance. They got tired of evictions and fuel emergencies a long time ago.
With the promise of no parties, rent paid on time; keep the place clean and no cops I get to stay right here. Not bad it is a three bedroom single story ranch one of those popular designs from the seventies or so. Decent sized yard with a garage. No car but a garage to keep my bike in if I had one. I do have the internet though but no cell phone.
No parties the man said. Geeze really! Don’t you need friends to have parties? On second thought what you do need is a teenager with a house of his own and no supervision. I am not going to go there. My old man did not raise a fool. I know when I am in the cat bird seat and this is it. Scratch the friends or users I don’t need them. I got this far on my own I’m not going to change it now. You should be able to tell I’m one of those people who are excluded. I am going through life as an observer untouched and ignored. My philosophy is if you don’t let them in they can’t hurt you. You might have gotten a hint of this attitude when discovering it took me until the third page to mention my name. This is another fine point for those of you who go through life unmolested by social services. After court Ms Niger could not give me a ride home. It seems she is only allowed to drive active victims err clients. I guess since she dragged me out of school and blew the case I’m no longer a child in need. It is comforting to know they are so caring.
I’m not exactly home free I now have Ms Bishop keeping tabs on me. The good news is this woman has a hundred and twenty families to harass. She is one of a dozen county Income Maintenance workers. It is her job to make sure I’m following the rules. To think my parents are in jail for being Grifters while this sorry excuse of a president isn’t. Look at what the guy did. He creates jobs by hiring more welfare workers to keep track of all the people forced on welfare because he screwed up the economy. It is an excellent way to control everything. He watches the watchers who report what everybody is doing. You don’t think that is a major con? The guy has total control by threatening to cut off your free money. The message is be good, shut up and stay in your place. Every six months Ms Bishop wearing her cheap pants suit stops by to check up on me. That is not a certainty I have to wait five more months to see if she remembers. At least thanks to the ACLU they stopped unreasonable demands like making me quit school and document employment searches. Nobody comes around checking up complaining about dirty dishes in the sink. But they still know how to make trouble.
Back at school, well it was the next day without anyone knowing I was not here the day before. I must admit the nuns love me. I clean up well, do my work, keep my mouth shut and don’t make a mess. For the record I am about five feet seven inches solid built without flab or zits. There is little to make fun of it goes hand in hand with my lack of anything to take a second look at either. Girls, yeah I love them every curve and short skirt about them. I can sit admiring their cute little walk and the way they wear their hair. I love everything about them. The problem is they can’t see me. It is not that they dislike me or find me repulsive they just don’t notice me. As far as guys go last year one of them talked to me once or twice but he transferred out.
I have my own lunch table with plenty of privacy except when the janitor takes pity stopping to chat. Well enough of this you get the picture and can see why I stepped into it when that freaking spam invitation ended up in my mail box. For someone who watches like that Percy guy in the movie “Being There” the temptation is simply too great. That is why I am writing this to warn people to stay away from spam mail. It is the Grifter’s greatest friend.
We entered the later half of October with my private battle lines drawn. It is my intention to score the valedictorian award as it is my best avenue to get into college. There are a few competitors, a jock named Pedro Roman. I know before you go there jock and intelligent is the definition of oxymoron. The other is a girl named Jean Phillips also known as ‘Parker.’ Let me explain she lives in a trailer park hence the cruel nickname of ‘Parker’. I cannot verify it is a trailer park I never followed her home. For the record I am not a sicko stalker.
Here is where I place my disclaimer I’m madly in love with Jean Phillips and conflicted about beating her out of the award. The kid has less than I do and needs a scholarship. I’m a realists and self comes first my parents taught me that. Jean has less friends than I do, that is not possible I have no friends. I guess we are tied then Phillips zero, Lyons zero. I will say more about my dream girl later.
Another down side of this is I have to do my own laundry. Fortunately Saint Michaels does not require uniforms saving me a load of work. So I’m sorting whites from colors my briefs and socks in one pile. I throw my jeans and tees in another. What is this? I interrupt my self startled to find something I wanted to forget. Oh, well I might as well tell you it is this lot that gets me in trouble. Bear with me I’m reading the labels here because I am clueless about this crap. There is a Royal Robbins Promenade skirt. You heard me right a skirt. According to mom it is made of lightweight, wrinkle resistant Marori Poplin. It will keep me looking great all summer long. They gave the color a great name, Soapstone. What kind of a name is that? Actually it is a light tan or cream.
The skirt is described as a practical, but fun option that's ready for any warm weather outing, It is made of lightweight, wrinkle resistant Marori Poplin to keep you looking great all summer long. I think I said that already. It is because I am focusing. If I keep talking I will forget I have no idea what Marori Poplin is and I need to find out. So hold on a minute.
Okay I’m back. I had to Google Marori Poplin simply because every girl is required to know this stuff. Well aren’t they? According to the description I found Marori Poplin is a type of weave that is a synergistic blend of cotton and nylon. It is soft, breathable, quick drying and wrinkle resistant. See now I can offer a coherent answer when asked about my skirt. My Grifter parents taught me the art of sarcasm in case you misinterpreted my tone.
Mom and dad dreamed up a bait and switch requiring a mother and daughter. Guess who got to play the daughter wigs and all? Before you ask I have a set including matching blouse and shoes. The blouse goes with my modest knee length soapstone skirt. I’m a Catholic girl remember? The blouse, right it is turquoise. Before you worry about it clashing, never fear the blouse leans more to the blue than green. According to more information on the tag it’s a polyester jersey camisole style blouse making layering easy with its four way stretch, adjustable spaghetti straps and built in shelf bra. I almost forgot they went all out to include an A cup set of lifelike bra fillers. I can only guess a shelf bra is supposed to makes things look bigger by holding them up. That’s what a shelf does right?
The designer went to great trouble identifying this garment as a blouse to my great relief. I always thought a camisole was underwear. No way will this kid ever wear girl’s underwear. I can justify a blouse because that’s simply a fancy name for a shirt. You witnessed another of my issues just now. I get distracted by over explaining everything. Where was I? Oh yeah I tossed those into the second pile with the jeans and hung up the other girly out fit. You may as well hear about it to save time later. It is what I wore after I responded to the spam. Not that I wanted to, they forced me into it.
You have to love the name these clowns gave this skirt. According to the sales blurb it is great for jaunts to town. Not that I’d ever do that. I got side tracked forgetting to tell you the name. They called it Horny Toad's Sidekick skirt. Not that I’d date a horny toad. Girls described as toads are not high on my list. Anyway it is made with quick-drying, stretchy and durable fabric to keep up with my active lifestyle. The skirt feels like one of those sexy materials guys like to touch. The label says quick drying, stretchy and durable organic cotton polyester fabric. Let’s not forget the color. They call this one, oatmeal it pretty much describes it. What I really like about this one is it has slant hand pockets with welt back pockets offering a classic fit. You wear it just below the waist. Before I forget it shows your knees plus two inches above.
It looks like October is drawing to a close I’m going to need a pair of tights. What, before you make assumptions I not going weird here. Tights are needed since all that skin is exposed that’s all. It is crowding November here meaning cold. I’m not exposing my legs to the November wind and rain. I need to find a color to go with the blouse. Mom thought this outfit would be great on the weekends. I don’t know what she had planned but she mentioned wearing it in the backyard. They must have had another scam in the works. I’m procrastinating, how many guys talk about wearing something described like this? Well no guy I want to meet, now if it is his sister you bet. It is lightweight 3.8 oz. cotton jersey knit and comfortable V-neck Carhartt tank top. Guaranteed to keep you cool, casual and let you show off those arms. I love the color, Petal Pink. Could you tell this is more sarcasm?
Did you ever hear of Jack Rogers' shoes? I hadn’t my shoe knowledge is limited to Nikes. Well Jack Rogers is one pair mom bought me. I don’t have the time or the desire to Google Jack Rogers. If you want to know do it yourself. The box says they are pretty, feminine silhouettes of slim flats sports medallion style. They detail in the form of swirling rondelles and whipstiching combined with its solid color leather, it's a textural masterpiece. The color of the shoes is a dull gold. Does anybody understand the meaning of what I just read from the label? Seriously, is this a central focus of a girl’s life? Is knowing this crap essential to navigate the halls wearing just the right thing? If I ever get the courage to speak to Jean this is a necessary question. I have not exchanged a single word with her in four years. It is not like I will ever find out.
I don’t want to bore you but I discovered rondelles are a flat bead, often of rock crystal or onyx. So that explains those sparkly things. The whipstiching bullshit is nothing more than an attempt to impress you with naming a fancy stitch. Wow I bet these things set them back plenty. They sure as hell will look great with my soapstone skirt. I’m beginning to figure out why mom and dad were always late with rent payments. The next pair of shoes costs over a hundred bucks on sale.
They are called Mary Janes. But the over priced fashion company had to lay it on thick. Here is what they had to say. Blending the cute, girly style of a Mary Jane with a chic, stylish, cork wrapped wedge heel the Teva's Riviera Wedge Mary Jane shoes offer a versatile, urban style you'll love with the wear all day comfort of a sculpted leather foot bed. They are fitted with a leather and textile upper and a hook and look asymmetric strap wraps over the top of the foot. The shoes feature cork wrapped wedge midsole and heel with a Durabrasion rubber outsole. You have to be impressed with that ensemble. I’m glad I am not a girl. Give me my jeans, tees and sneakers. I’m just a simple man without any need to fill my empty head with information this detailed.
To top all of that off they sprung for real hair wigs in two styles. One is a chestnut color something close to an early Meg Ryan hair style. The other is a honey blond style that brings Reese Witherspoon to mind. I would not be wasting your time with this if it were not relevant to my tale of woe. The spam company made me do it. It sounds like an excuse they came up with in government school because it is always somebody else’s fault. Okay it is my fault because I am impatient, curious and could not wait to try out my free fun week end. That is what the spam called it anyway.
I will give these hucksters credit they are good when it comes to timing. The spammer arrived in my G-mail on Saturday. It promised to provide a free weekend of adventure giving you an enhanced version of yourself. All you needed to do is be sure a real life avatar is in your e-mail user account. This free one year pass is valued at $10,000 with minimal obligation. All I have to do is write a five page description of my weekend for them to post on their website. I should have known this is too good to be true. I won when I never entered. I told you my parents are Grifters and they trained me in the art. You know what they say, you can’t kid a kidder. Oh yes you can because we grifters are too smart to be caught in someone else’s game. So we tell ourselves making us easy targets. Anyone who watched the old TV show Mission Impossible knows that. I don’t mean the lame movies either those pathetic things were terrible.
The deal is weekends are afforded only no mid week adventures are offered. Registration must be made in person on Fridays between five and seven pm. sending the spam to me on Saturday makes me wait a whole week. Even worse I cannot register until next Friday meaning I do not get full details until then. Go figure, it is like receiving threatening letters from bill collectors Saturday morning whose office is closed weekends. So you get to stew for three days. I bet they time those assaults on purpose. I told you I’m a grifter I know how e-mail works. If you believe G-Mail keeps your data secret then you likely swallow the crap coming from the white house these days.
I told G-mail my name is Andréa Judd an eighteen year old female. That is all the data I gave them. I doubted these guys from the day they admitted they got all that personal info by accident. The Street View bullshit comes to mind. They got the stuff by accident and are keeping it at server farms because why, they don’t want it? Please anyone dumb enough to swallow that is what grifters call a mark. Now my Ms. Andréa Judd wins a prize when only G-mail has this name and e-mail address, some coincidence.
I discovered when wearing my Horny Toad's Sidekick skirt, V-neck Carhartt tank top in petal Pink and those Teva Riviera wedge Mary Jane shoes I looked hot. Especially when adding a pair of sheer black tights and the Meg Ryan wig. I looked in the mirror and almost passed out. If the hair color were more brown I could be Jean Phillips’ twin. Using Jean’s photo for my Andréa avatar might have been a dumb move. That is how I appeared with my coupon on that fateful Friday promptly at five pm.
My dear reader you noticed I said Friday is a week away and suddenly I jump right to Friday. It is a courtesy I extend to you avoiding describing my boring week. Classes were the same as always with nothing happening. I sat three seats away from Jean Phillips staring and drooling only to be ignored. How much of that can you take? To spare you I jumped to Friday night a week in the future.
You have to see this place to believe it. I spent ten bucks on a cab because as I said there is no car in my garage and I do not own a bike. Really can you imaging an upscale seventeen year old girl who appears to be twenty-two riding a bike? For that matter considering my outfit, can you imagine such a girl walking that far? If she did not get grabbed of by a perv trolling some other not so fun fate would strike.
The house looking ever so like something out of a bad Steven King movie has a simple board sign out front. It read Sanctuary and I swear those shuttered windows would scare Eddy Munster. I bravely walked up the creaking steps to the porch when an eerie Eastern European voice bid me welcome. The door knocker shaped like a wolf’s head made a loud whacking sound. At least it did not howl. Perhaps it did at one time and is the reason they now have to give out freebies.
A thick carpeted entry room with a tall butler type behind the desk eased the fear factor. He smiled and groveled the way they do in those British films. The guy looked like David Niven. I presented my coupon to receive a pile of forms or rather disclaimers. You could only interpret one of every dozen words or so encouraging you to skim and sign, which I did to my regret. How many times must we be told you have to read bill before signing it? Like Nancy I signed it to find out what is in it later. That was an expensive mistake worse than any made by congress. Though I suspect many of you readers would break your neck getting here when you find out what happened to me.
I turned in my signed forms all fifteen of them to receive a plastic swipe card. Bela Lugosi or a close cousin led me down a hallway to the sign in terminal. He explained for this weekend there are four options. The offered choices are Romance, Ski Resort, The Spa or Relaxing Weekend. Romance requires legal ID as it is X-rated you must be 21. Then his eyes drank me in, drank is a kind word for how he looked. He sort of hinted the other three activities offer many opportunities to take advantage of romance. He did not have to say more than that, I got his meaning.
A brochure accompanies the welcome information with a warning. When you swipe your card the scanner verifies your identity, your e-mail avatar comparing both to your body scan. When that information is processed you are to step into a containment chamber where the scanner will make adjustments. There is a little hint, hint at the bottom warning customers the process cannot make radical adjustments. If the customer is really a four by four they cannot make you look like Brad Pitt or your favorite actress.
It went on to say expect ladies to appear a little softer with sharp edges smoothed out to present a more feminine affect. It advised there will be no sexual enhancements such as larger breasts and the like. Your natural beauty will slightly modify. The enhancements should fade slowly over time. However with repeated use of our system they could become permanent. For males the same is true except modifications tend to the ripped side. Men were warned not to expect bigger well you know. Once the scanners have completed their work a door will open allowing admittance to the vacation of your choice. Themes change from time to time please sample as many as you like but only one selection is allowed per weekend. Enjoy your stay.
Okay I have been warned and am growing concerned because a number of guys are standing about looking at me like that. I hurry exiting the place conflicted about showing up as Andi Judd tomorrow at eight AM. I am also growing concerned because my clothes feel fabulous. The pink top brings out the deep blue of my eyes. I wore tiny maple leaf shaped gold earrings that shimmer adding a sparkle to my hair.
My old man thinks he is really the sharpest tool in the shed. He does not know I found his tackle box. The one he buried behind a false wall in the cellar. I’m pretty certain he is counting on this for his retirement when he gets out in twenty years. There is close to a hundred grand in small bills neatly packaged in bound stacks. I discovered the stash some time ago and have zero guilt in liberating a few grand. He left his kid high and dry with no support. At least he thought he did. His kid has a need so a short trip to the used car lot satisfied my handicap. I now am the proud owned of a Volkswagen Beetle. Do you note there is a bit of irony here? Back in the day every college girl seemed to own of these rigs. Everybody thought it looked cool to see a short skirt working a stick shift. When I saw the car I balked thinking no, it’s not a car for a cool guy. When I saw the price an image appeared in my rear view mirror. You can just envision Andi sporting around town wearing her wrinkle resistant Marori Poplin soapstone skirt. I think I need to pick up a set of tennis whites.
I did not wear that outfit when I went to buy the car. Just to be clear I’m not interested in appearing in public like some kind of fruit. With the car safely tucked into my garage, my garage what a hoot mom and dad must be sitting in their cells worried about how their kid is making out. Yeah right, I’m sure they are. So the clothes are laid out on a chair at the foot of my bed.
It is nearly ten pm on this Friday night as I sit here pondering the stupidity I have planned for tomorrow. Do I even dare wear these ridiculous clothes? I even let my fingers splay over the sensual material of those Hanes silky nylon briefs. The Bali bra is hanging over the back of the chair. I already tried the forms mom bought for me to ensure they fit. A little medical glue and that strange garment should bring the desired effect.
My resistance is wearing down. I’m certain my disguise will present a credible likeness of my dream girl. The question is will anyone buy it? I finally cave doing something I can’t admit to myself I’ve been dying to try. It took awhile but I’m decked out in my Jean Phillips clothes ready to gaze into the mirror. There stood Andi Judd. “Holy shit it is Jean.” Then I passed out.
Next Week Chapter 2 Jean Phillips: Dealing with it
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In our second entry we learn about a second character central to this adventure. The protagonists offer their own point of view revealing what they will of themselves. Here you discover Jean's view of her world allowing a glimpse of what makes her tick.
Let me introduce myself. My name is Jean Phillips. I am a high school senior at Saint Michaels a serious Catholic school demanding excellence. The nuns give no quarter and in their mind any grade lower than a B is failure. At least this part of my life in this hell hole is has gotten better. It is everything leading up to it that sucks. After four years of being condemned, insulted and treated as a social leper is now reduced to isolation. Isolation is a victory one leading to my success. I am on track to win the valedictorian award punching my ticket for scholarships and acceptance to an A college. The only things standing in my way are two guys. One a jock named Pedro Roman and the other a nobody known as Andrew Lyons.
I hate jocks almost as much as I hate the mean girls. You know the ones I’m talking about. They parade around in their designer clothes flaunting both their looks and wealth. Each of them has a gathering of drooling fools trailing behind. Most of those followers are horny cave men. They are guys like Pedro who runs around wearing gym shorts bouncing a basketball saying enlightening things like dude or you know twelve times in each paragraph. Pedro is the exception, not only is he cute he is really, really smart. He is also an asshole who is in love with himself. The remaining followers consist of a gaggle of pretty girls who know they are and believe everyone else adores them.
The other roadblock I mentioned is the opposite of Pedro. You take Lyons for instance nobody knows who he is. The guy is even more unpopular than I am. He dresses okay wearing the appropriate uniform of brand name jeans and beefy tees. Even his sneakers show fidelity to an appropriate swoosh. At least give him credit his shoes do not light up. I have never seen anyone, anyone at all so much as speak to him. I guess that puts him higher up the social standing than I. Me, they deem to acknowledge at least, usually with the term of ‘Parker.’ ‘Parker’ with a capital P is code for trailer park trash. Oh yes I live in a mobile home. Actually it is a modular home built to stick built specs. It is on our own land not in any trailer park. I get sensitive about that shit.
One of those two guys is the likely alternative top grade winner for the senior class. I dislike jocks because they score the winning basket at the buzzer to win the state championship. That’s what Roman did last year. Not winning the game is what bothers me it is what follows. His response is he joined the entitled. The idea soon rises in his head it is his right to have the head cheerleader on her knees honoring the ugly thing below his waist. True to form our brainless captain of the short skirt crowd complied. You can almost guess the name of our head cheerleader. If you said Brittany, bingo you get an A on my test. Do I have to tell you she is far too stupid to know how demeaning that is? She is also not bright enough to know old Pedro told everybody she swallows. Yeah, she swallows and now begs him to let her have another go at his foot long. We are not talking Subway here. I did not hear Brittany say that. It was Pedro bragging to his friends. Then again, considering my history why should I believe Pedro?
Brittany parades around the halls followed by her acolytes wearing designer clothes flaunting her queen bee image not knowing what they really think. The thing that pisses me off is they look down at me. Me the girl who minds her own business and is not the school tramp. I guess it speaks to why I detest the beautiful people here. Roman is a primary reason why I hate guys another is Lyons. I will get to the number one bastard named O’Riley later. Andrew has never done anything to me. That is directly but indirectly he is weird. Ever since I first laid eyes on him four years ago he watches me. Not in a stalking way but in an invasive uncomfortable manner. I catch him looking at me in every class. His eyes are deep blue, piercing and captivating. Before you get the wrong idea I know that it is not because I’m looking at him. It is he locks those pools on me like he is trying to probe inside me.
It should not surprise me, Andrew is a guy. It is not a stretch to know he wants inside me alright. I know what exactly he wants to shove inside me. Why is it guys think with that smelly ugly protrusion? Is that all they know? I mean women appreciate good looking guys. We dream of finding mister right and understand when settling down what’s going to happen. Sex is going to happen and I will be required to spit out kids after nine months of pure hell. I have already decided there is no way I will submit to having myself stretched apart squeezing a ten pound ball of fat through my bottom. How gross, it makes me sick to think about it.
My idea of romance is finding a soul mate who loves me one who I love in return. Ever since that ugly incident two years ago my desire for a boyfriend has vanished. I hate thinking about it and refuse to ever speak these words I am about to confess. His name is Jerry O’Riley the captain of the football team. The bastard graduated two springs ago, good riddance. I agreed to go to the home coming dance because I thought he was so cool. My friend Jennifer one of the well off kids was a year ahead of me. She was a junior going out with Jerry’s brother Mark who was a senior. Me a sophomore thought I was being so grown up going out with a junior. That is until after the dance on the way home.
I have to admit Jerry is a good dancer but his hands were all over me. I kept pushing them away but each dance found his fingers being too familiar with my rear. I had worked so hard to impress wearing a pleated knee length black wool skirt with white knee socks. My sleeveless white scoop button up linen blouse was framed nicely by my navy cardigan. I mentioned the ride home. I should have said ride to hell. Mark was driving slowly until he turned into a parking spot near the pole line on the northern end of Baker’s Woods. I heard kids telling stories about this being a make out spot. Jenny Bates was smiling acting rather giddy. I did not know she was half loaded.
It all happened like a flash. Jerry is all over me in the back seat his fingers pushing under my skirt he had my blouse unbuttoned so fast I did not realize it. That is until I could feel his other cold hand cupping my bare left breast. His other hand is trying to slip under my panties as my head is pushed back against the seat. I struggle just as his lips press against mine. His tongue is trying to get inside my mouth. I can hear Mark moaning from the front seat. “Oh baby suck harder.” I thought is Jennifer nuts she sucking his,,, oh shit. I had my own troubles then I got an unexpected break.
“I’m cumming Ohhhhh” is heard from a loud voice in front. Jennifer’s head appears above the seat pulling back. Jerry is almost inside my panties when I hear spitting sounds or coughing maybe it is gagging. Whatever, Mark is now complaining because Jennifer made him cum. His intention was to have intercourse. According to Mark the stupid bitch’s mouth made his pole go flaccid. His yelling at her caused the distraction I needed to jump out of the car. The pole line is only a few yards away and it is close to my house. I ran all the way home. On Monday I learned the horrible truth. Jerry told the whole school I screwed both him and his brother with Jennifer swearing it’s the truth. According to Jennifer she watched in shock as she had no idea what a little slut I am. At least she did not have to explain if she swallowed like Brittany.
My reputation now ruined made me the school outcast. Even the nuns look at me differently. I came to think they must have heard the sorted details and sat up all night saying Hail Marys for me. It was then the insult ‘Parker’ became popular and I’m relegated to pathetic little wench status known to take on any guy in school. The in crowd wanted nothing to do with me looking the other way when I came into view. This is the same crowd that parties in Baker’s woods. They have a little contest where the loser has to give head to a guy selected by the winner. Yet I am the one who is shunned. Then again with friends like that who needs enemies?
Even the rejects shunned me because they now have someone beneath them. It was right then and there I swore off boys they are nothing but pigs. The girls are nothing but back biting scabs interested in elevating their positioning at someone else’s expense. A pox on both their houses is an appropriate punishment.
What does a ‘Parker’ do? In my case you shut down bury yourself in books stay home and refuse to let them get to you. I may have told you since then I wear nothing but jeans. I am not showing my skin to these pigs. So the prime bimbos wear short skirts scoop tops with push up bras are sexually active and then complain because of the leers. Right, you silly princesses are advertising the only thing missing is the for rent sign. The good news is both O’Riley and my ex best friend Jennifer Bemis are long gone. They graduated before this year and now my best year of high school is the third year I navigate dim lit halls alone. I must sound like an angry little bitch but I’m not. I like myself but I’m not particularly crazy about playing defense all the time. I’d like a friend but I learned to trust no one.
I scored a part time job for the weekends which helped buy school clothes making my father’s pay check go a bit farther. It helps me avoid wearing ‘Parker’ clothes without having to put pressure on my parents. Being a girl is expensive that asshole Lyons does not have a clue how easy he has it. I look at him looking at me and I want to explode. Enough complaining, I don’t like myself when I do that. I work at the Warehouse Outlet an odd lots clothing store. They specialize in seconds from major manufacturers. Rejects are sold minus the label. They offer cheap knockoffs no one else could sell at any price.
The store is on the corner of Trident Avenue and Main Street on the outskirts of town. It is an old gray building rising four floors. The building is one of those old clapboard types initially used to store farm implements. There is one section on the fourth floor where the previous owners stored bales of hay. Farm trucks the old flat beds with removable picket fence like sides would park in the rear. A large crane type thingy lowered bales purchased by farmers. That is all gone now discarded remnants of decaying straw still lay in cracks of warped floor boards. They closed the fourth floor for safety reasons but the lift still ascends to the open floor. The warehouse workers slip up there to sneak cigarette breaks.
The floors are old consisting of wide weathered boards that have shown their wear. A faded chipped gray color betrays a lack of upkeep. It is doubtful they received any care since I have been born. You can still smell that oily scent permeating this old building. It goes without saying the floors creak with every step. I sometimes freak when hearing squeaking louder than normal expecting to fall through the floor.
My average Saturday consists of me sorting shipments arrived the day before. Everything goes into carts by product type. Girls and teens items into one adults into others and so on. The sorting takes all morning the hauling all afternoon. There is always some sales girl running in messing up my piles looking for that certain something she knew just came in. I get to spend another fifteen minutes straightening out the mess. Carts go to different floors which I have to push pull and drag. Fortunately what goes onto the sales floor is simply stuck in a back corner where the staff sorts them. I get to use the elevator.
Let me tell you about the modern lift. It is ancient looking more like a cage than an enclosed elevator. The wooden frame is reminiscent of an old picket fence. There are no walls so to speak everything is open including the gears and hoist cables. Sometimes I have to pull flat trucks loaded with heavy stuff. Perhaps you have seen those things. They are about the size of a sheet of plywood with wheels on the back end and a steel knob on the front. You take one of those huge jacks about four feet long connecting it to the knob. You have to pound your foot hard on the jack’s tongue. The first time I did it I ended up standing on the jack my whole body in the air. I wanted to scream when I noticed four truck drivers watching and smiling. I don’t know if it was my ass they were attracted to or if it was my struggle. Finally the jack engaged locking in place causing a reaction with the handle recoiling. I almost fell on my ass to the sound of applause. One of the drivers showed me the trick of the heavy jack and it became clear sailing after that. One more reason I do not wear skirts.
After loading the ancient elevator I pull down the creaking cage door. When I push the button for the second floor I pray it reaches the next level. Laugh if you want but the creaking and moaning sound made by that cage as it moves up or down scares the hell of me. The operation is done by pulleys and wires elevators in stores, malls and airports likely work the same way. They at least have the comfort of a sealed enclosure where riders do not see the nuts and bolts.
As I ride up and down this creaking and objecting cage I can see the steel cable wrapping around the pulleys. It bothers me just a little to notice the cable is frayed in many places. It is like school I close my eyes trying desperately to ignore the threats around me. This is basically my weekend up and down that scary lift stacking bundles of clothes in bins. Before closing on Saturdays an added insult is applied.
That little annoyance is provided by my job. I have to hang the Sunday sale signs in the window. What is so bad about that? There is a row of widows the length of the sales area facing the main street. Of course, the store is on street level. You can’t risk customer’s lives by putting them in the cage. A long rail is mounted to the floor under the windows. A ladder is mounted to it which I climb to hang the signs. So it goes push the heavy ladder climb up and down, push and climb again. All the while this is going on kids are walking by mouthing ‘Parker’. Worse yet guys stand there fingering their crotch as if offering it to me. I bet it pisses them off that I’m not climbing the ladder wearing a skirt. I keep coming back to that as if I’m fixated.
Bess Winslow is my supervisor. She is a nice lady who knows what poor is all about. Each Saturday when I come in she shows me a selection of clothes set aside lacking any noticeable defect. They help because they are not obviously from this hand me down store. Bess is a dear who cannot understand why I never, ever wear skirts or dresses. Jerry is part and parcel of the reason why no one sees my legs or has an open hem to violate. If the truth be known most of the preppies wear brands of jeans by Royal Blue, Revolt, Piper's Closet, Vigold and Paris Blues. It is not like I can afford any of those. The price of one pair equals four or five marked down Wranglers.
Mrs. Winslow is a farm wife who works to help make ends meet. Over the last few years she has been like a second mother to me. To help my mom and dad out she gives me a ride home on Saturday nights. She is always giving me advice and offering to listen to any concern I may have. My steel resolve refuses to let anyone in but I actually feel better knowing I have an ally.
In spite of how rotten my life in this town has been I consider myself a lucky girl. My dad is a great guy. He works hard as a mechanic in a local garage. The man can fix any car or truck, if it has a motor my dad is your guy. He does not drink, swear or beat my mother. When in high school dad was the captain and quarterback of the football team. The colleges were lining up with offers until he blew out his knee. Without the free ride afforded by the pigskin crowd college did not happen. He got his present job right out of high school.
Mom is terrific, I’m not like most girls I love my mom. We get along great and talk to each other though she has no idea of what happened that night or the hell I’m living. It hurts too much to think about or try to put it in words. I have to be creative pretending I do not like dancing and have no interest in school events. Somehow deep down I know the woman buys none of my tough guy act.
I know mom really wants to help me find that prom dress. She would absolutely go bonkers seeing me all decked out posing for pictures she is dying to take. I deflect every conversation that may lead to prom topics. My usual answer is something like, “Mom I have no time for that if I’m to get a scholarship to Gonzaga or Hillsdale.” I guess she has given up trying to relive her prom days through her daughter. To be honest I still sneak peeks at myself. Without sounding like all the top ten bitches I look better than any of them. I will keep that my secret.
On Friday’s I meet dad at the garage after school. The bosses have gone home and he lets me mess with some of the cars. I know how to change the oil, repair leaking tires and even set timing belts. I am getting pretty good with points and plugs knowing that is a lost art because most of the newer models do not require those things. In this town which is reliant on farms and factories there are plenty of old trucks and cars still requiring tune ups. Mom joins us at five when dad is finished and we catch dinner at the Dog Shack or the local diner. Sometimes if there is anything playing we hit the movies. Most of it is garbage these days so we tend to go home instead.
Yes money is tight and we have none of the toys everybody else seems to have. No cell phones, no MP3 players but I do have a laptop. Dad had a friend build one for me in exchange for him fixing the guy’s car. It is kick ass. I stay away from social sites primarily because I do not want to know what the bitches are saying about me. I often dream I’d like to be a guy as I especially would enjoy doing things to that little whore Jennifer. She owes me for swearing her actions were mine. That is a whole other thing. I just know being a girl bites. The idea of having to give birth totally sucks. Spread my legs to get stabbed and fertilized, it ain’t gonna happen. I’d rather do the stabbing.
That whole being a guy thing started during early October. I keep getting strange thoughts about girls. Things like if I were I guy what I could do to her, well ugly things I have no desire to act out. They are not dreams or visions just dark thoughts that come about every now and then. Whatever, they are creeps me out every time.
Sundays I only work until noon so when I get home mom and I hang out while dad watches football on the old TV. Hanging out with mom generally means cooking and the like. There is considerable pride shinning through mom’s eyes when my blueberry muffins come out just right. I must admit I get a kick out of it as well. We do have a lot of time to talk and just be close. I enjoy the feeling I get from these times with mom. We get along though I hold back from revealing my general daily misery.
I struggled into my senior year still dateless and still without a single friend. Anyone who I thought was a friend shunned me because of a lie. It taught me not to let anyone else get close ever. Then the weirdness started in my senior year. First it was obvious lust in the eyes of Andrew. It is like he suddenly discovered what a little slut I am and wants a piece. Sorry Andrew you are shit out of luck. Everyday this school year Andrew is looking at me. It is like his eyes are glued to me. I have to hold myself back stopping the urge to scream “What do you want?” It is my luck the guy is in every one of my classes. How did that work? Did Andrew bribe the nuns or something? On second thought that is stupid. Andrew, Pedro, and five others are welded together in honors classes. When I look around I feel vindicated none of my tormentors managed to make honors.
Talking about bribing the nuns I talked my way into doing a report for psychology class early on in the semester. It is one of those year long reports where I’m expected to write a long paper on an original topic. I proposed what would happen if a boy or girl tried to fake being the other sex in public? What would it do to their psyche if people took her at face value and they did it over a period of time? I know I am dealing with Sister George thinking that is an oxymoron to begin with. Why wouldn’t a nun named George go along with this?
She kind of hesitated when I assured her I would not touch the topic of transgender or sex change or any of that anti God stuff. I simply wanted to test the what if of it. Sister suddenly grew amused suggesting a girl would find out how unfair life is to women. There are different expectations and forced roles. A girl or boy might get confused if such a mask is allowed to persist for a long period. Satisfied I am only trying to determine the shock of reversed perceptions and will use only documented studies she agreed. Not until I promised I would not act out violating any commandment. Now all I need to find is a victim.
Because I have no friends and I prefer to be Brad Pitt without the stubble rather than Meg Ryan I elected myself. Now then how do I go about this? Oh yes and about the Meg Ryan bit. I heard my stalker, Andrew comment my hair looked like Meg Ryan’s. I am not so sure I agreed. I find myself looking in the mirror with a critical eye. It is unsettling to discover except for the color he may be correct. It is hard to put a name on a hair style. Each salon dreams up their own cool names. A descriptive one word label does not inform a stranger what your hair looks like. I’ll put it this way, a Pixie is generally too short and not really feathered like mine or Meg’s for that matter. But we are in that general length. A razor cut fails to describe me accurately and choppy though it is close sounds too disorganized. But those general terms tend to lend themselves to what I have.
It may sound like I’m pumping myself up because everybody knows the terminally pretty girl next door look of Meg. I could be accused of claiming; no I’m rather plain I just look like a beautiful actress. Move on nothing to see here. Applying her name to define a style seems easier than to go through all the verbiage I just laid out. To clarify my chestnut colored hair has those side and front bangs and is layered. I’d say its middle length is cut to look more voluminous because it is feathered. My final word on this is I talk too much. When I add a bit of goop and comb out the bangs I look kind of boyish.
For a short period of time I got really bummed when the Warehouse Outlet went belly up. Business had been pretty bad for most of the summer. Finally the company closed our store and little old me lost a part time job. Before I conned Sister George into allowing my paper I had been toying with the boy look. Since I have not worn a skirt or dress in years my jeans and tee shirts helped to confuse some strangers. Perhaps I could pull this off at least out of town or among people who did not know me. The first time I wore my hair like this to school the nuns nearly had kittens, Sister Karla walked me out of her class chewing me out in the hall. It seems she who looks like a linebacker has different standards. I knew better than to say anything and have become more careful.
Bess, my former boss called offering me some really cute girly outfits. She had been pressuring me to dress more feminine. You already know that is not going to happen. She keeps insisting threatening to make some selections and send them over to my mom. I can’t let that happen so I agreed to meet her at the store to pick out some stuff. I insisted I will take only a few. With great apprehension I walk over to the store meeting Bess. She has several outfits set aside and wanted me to try on every damn one of them. Forced to humor her I picked up a
lavender strapless cutout dress. Not only are there two sides to the story, but both are worth mentioning.
As I stood there staring into the mirror I became confused, this is not me. It's hard to gloss over the sexy allure of two triangular side cutouts below a fitted sweetheart bodice, or the custom fit that an elastic back band and no slip strip lining presented in that mirror. The A-line skirt tucks a little at the waist. It has an exposed zipper at back. It is fully lined.
Wow, I though so much skin showing around my shoulders. My resistance to my feminine side melted causing a sudden need to have this dress. Bess is beaming claiming I am far more beautiful than even she imagined. The woman quickly began handing off more of her treasures to me. I paw through this stuff not wanting to look like a girl knowing wearing these clothes make that impossible
I keep Bess happy by agreeing to take the lavender dress and two skirts. Both of them have fancy names and bullshit label descriptions to fish in the marks. Anyway I am attracted to a skirt named simply as Lush. I slip the thing on over my boy shorts. You know panty briefs for girls who object to constantly pulling that irritating thong out of her crack. Good grief must they insists we torture ourselves to make the hairy guy’s access convenient? I am not going to comply. Back to the skirt. It is made by somebody called Dark Star. It is a black leather skater skirt with a double pointed yoke front and back, plus some chic vertical seaming. The high wasted fit enhances my almost nothing sized middle. If the truth were to be revealed I am a size four. Again my legs look fabulous; they scare me I have not seen them exposed in a long time. By that I mean hanging out there for all to see because my jeans do hide them. It is unsettling to say the least.
The impression I get from looking at my knock out self sets off alarm bells. I’m now convinced Dark Star is owned by the Borg. This is their way to compel me to assimilate. One look at this babe and all the guys go into heat. Yes, I am caving letting my girl come out. Bess is giggling with that I told you her expression reveals she is now convinced of my model like looks. I am still not about to tell her why I’m in denial. I agreed to try one more to keep her happy picking out another skirt with a cool name. This one is called Under Skies. Where in hell do they come up with these names? I can picture guys with limp wrist sitting around dreaming them up wishing these outfits would look good on them. This one is a blue lace skirt atop a knit cream background. The banded waist creates a figure flattering look that won’t miss a beat. Ok I admit it makes me look hot and I put it in my pile and quickly pull my jeans back on. If this is not bad enough later in this month of October events will turn weirder.
“Humor me Jean please put on the black skirt one more time. I want to take a picture of the beautiful young woman you are. I knew it all along but you refused to show yourself.” A pleading Bess almost begged. How can I deny my best friend? Did I say best friend, a woman who is middle aged is my best friend? I never thought of Bess that way but it is true. The woman who stood by me and helped me in this not great job may be my only friend. How can I deny her? I nodded my assent caving against my better judgment.
“Okay this one time and only long enough to take a picture.” I used my best teasing voice. The truth be known I enjoy looking good. Today is one of those times I must confront my conflicted emotions. I hope you feel better I am a pretty girl and flaunting it.
Bess is absolutely giddy as she holds up her hand signaling “I’ll be right back. I have just the blouse to go with that.” She is back like a flash holding up a blouse while I stand there wearing this incredible skirt and only a bra on top.
“Here you are it is one of those nice styled blouses with a sewn in cami. See that the shirt is an oxford material that buttons halfway down to the waist. The body is pink while the open top reveals a lighter pink underneath.”
I have to admit it is really nice and goes great with the Borg’s skirt. I slip the blouse over my head after all with only half buttons it is a pull over. Now I have to brush my hair as Bess insist her photo must be perfect. Next she tosses me a cardigan sweater either black like the skirt or perhaps navy. Sometimes I have a hard time distinguishing between the two.
“What do I need that for?”
“Jean, it is cold outside and the sweater will keep you warm.”
I am not about to protest just let her take the picture and I can get out of this outfit and escape. It is amazing how threatened I feel when forced to dress like a female. I bet it would be easier to get some guys into this outfit. Finally she has her photos and Bess keeps talking slowing me down. I need to change and make my escape. It is incredibly generous of this woman to spend her money on these expensive clothes. I feel guilty for trying to escape them. I feel even worse knowing they will hang in my closet never seeing the light of day.
There are times when your luck runs out and this is one of those times. I stand here exchanging small talk not wishing to be obvious by rapidly changing into my jeans mom walks into Bess’ office. She stopped by on her way to the football game with dad. The plan is to drop me off at the library to work on my paper,
“Oh honey you look beautiful. Bess these clothes are simply awesome.” Mom picks up the other outfit examining it like it is gold. “Bess you spent too much.”
The two ladies start arguing over Bess refusing to allow mom to pay her. Bess insisting little old me is the daughter she never had. Now that the store is closing she will no longer get to spend time with me. Mom assures Bess she is always welcome at our house. Before I know it Bess and her husband are coming to dinner tomorrow. Even worse mom promises I will be wearing the lavender skirt. “Oh shit more pictures.”
Not only am I roped into looking like a young woman tomorrow I have to wear this get up to the library. Why? Well mom grabbed my worn clothes quickly stuffing them into a bag and under her arm. With her free hand she grabs my wrists leading me to the door saying. “See you tomorrow Bess and thank you for the outfits.”
When I stepped outside under protest I thought poor dad was going to have a heart attack. Until this moment he did not know he had a daughter. The kid with the monkey wrench at his garage the one with the grease mustache is a boy. He spells his name Gene or so dad had grown to think. “Oh my God!” He exclaims then heaps praise on the most beautiful girl he has ever seen.
All too soon we are at the entrance to the library. There is no way I am getting out of this car. Mom chirps, “We will pick you up after the game dear.” I sit there not moving as dad turns in his seat. “We have to go Jean.” The glint in his eye is priceless. The man just discovered his daughter with movie star looks suddenly realizing the fear of all fathers. The house will be surrounded by more guys than Custer had Indians.
I step out feeling like one of those guys who got caught on face book wearing a skirt in Wal-Mart. You’ve seen the photos of usually fat hairy guys with tattoos looking like queens. The breeze hits legs never before exposed to the public like an Arctic blast. As they pull away I hear mom, “She looks so lovely don’t you think dear.”
Dad could be heard grumbling “Don’t you think that skirt is too short. I like the jeans better.”
As they pull away I whisper, “At least dad is on my side.” Several guys walk by almost tripping to get a second look.
“Who is that?” I hear one say while another is heard, “I dunno but I’m gonna find out.”
The library on a Saturday afternoon is a safe place. All the jocks are at the football game with the top ten mean girls. The only ones I will see in here are the nobodies who are no threat. Then it hits me, Lyons is very likely to be studying. He always is just like me friendless with nothing to do but study.
I walk up the steps still conscious of this skirt swaying with every step still cognizant of every male eye for miles checking me out. Suddenly I laugh thinking of how many third legs I am causing. It makes me feel slightly better as I gather some books to begin working on that stupid paper I am indebted to produce. Sitting quietly at a secluded table near stacks of books I scan the room. To my relief there is no Andrew Lyons anywhere to be found. I said relief but is it disappointment? Considering what looking at my hair does to him what would this getup do?
These books are doing nothing for me as no progress is being made on my paper. My thoughts are tied up with stupid questions, questions surrounding impossibility. Do I really want to be a guy? That thought as intriguing as it may be brings up visions of hairy chest, sweating, beer bellies, bowling and belching. That causes a shudder and then the painful reminders of periods, bloating, stretch marks and squeezing out kids and an infant chomped on my aching tit. God that sounds disgusting. Thankfully my thoughts are interrupted.
“Hey,” a preppy blond who appears bubbly says to me. Without waiting for an answer she asks, “I simply adore that out fit. Would you please stand to let me see the effect?”
I wanted to go ballistic but I contained my anger at this rude chippy. She is no one I’ve ever seen before so I doubted this is an ambush. I stood as she simply fawned over what I am wearing. After hearing how beautiful I am more than once she apologizes for being rude. “I’m Terri Collins a senior at Central. Are you new in town?”
“I shake my head offering, “St Michaels, I’m a senior too, Jean Phillips.” She sat down and we talked for at least and hour ending up exchanging phone numbers. A couple of Terri’s friends arrive more girls I do not know named Gwen and Pat both seemed nice. I have this strangest feeling being a girl is not so bad. They left when their ride picked them up. We agreed if all goes well we can meet up next Saturday. All of them promised to call. We will see what happens but I am not about to take it to the bank. I’ve been burned too many times.
Mom and dad finally picked me up after I wasted the whole day. I never thought I’d miss spending my Saturdays at the Warehouse outlet. Suddenly that creaky exposed elevator, smelly oily floors and my own personal pallet jack were missed. That is a sad commentary on my pathetic life to admit I miss a greasy hard to pull pallet jack. Perhaps dad will buy me one. There must be a use for such a thing around the house.
Saturday nights at home are not something a teen girl considers the ideal. I helped mom by making corn bread muffins while she crafted a pot of home made pea soup. I’m still wearing my I will not assimilate skirt. Actually I like it and promise I will stop whining about my lot in life. Plenty of girls have a lot to complain about. My biggest bitch is I look like a Hollywood actress. That sounds pretty small doesn’t it? I am so content and self evaluating tonight I almost called Andrew Lyons. Wouldn’t that rock his boat?
What the hell is it with that guy? Someday I may find out and regret doing it. After dinner when dad stopped raving about my muffins I asked him a serious question. He almost came undone. “Dad what did you think when you saw me in that outfit? I swore you took a double take.”
He stared at me for the longest time. He almost looked like Lyons when he stared at me. “Honey you scared the hell out of me.”
I blinked at that not getting what he meant. Is my father picking on me like everyone else? I came close to screaming, “Whatever” and running to my room. Instead I sat there giving him an odd look.
“What I mean is,” he paused taking my hand. “You are so lovely I know my little girl has grown up. I am terrified I am going to lose you. I love you so much. I am very happy when you are wearing a baseball hat, jeans and a tee shirt with grease on your face. “The way you look tonight is breath taking and I know our time is limited.”
I’m absolutely speechless all I can do is hug the man I love tightly. Over his shoulder I see mom crying just like me. I did not sleep at all tossing and turning wondering what is going to become of me. I have no idea, I am simply lost.
The strangest thing happens. Now that you are caught up to date knowing more about me than anyone you can understand why Andrew Lyons has me so angry. It is Monday morning at school when I see Andrew upped his outrage directed at me. Not only is the little bastard in my face stealing those glances he stole my hair style. I have to clarify that because I am sounding hysterical. Despite that freak and sexual pervert Freud I am not coming undone imagining things. No I am not suffering from the female psychological disease of Hysteria. Sister George is scratching sentence diagrams on the blackboard when listening to her intuition she turns giving the evil eye to Andrew Lyons. Following her stare I too looked at the boy. Once again his eyes locked on me but I deflected by turning away.
This was not an isolated incident as sister George must have turned several times before she could finish that simple five minute lesson. Each time she nailed him intercepting his gaze. The last time I am held captive I could not break his hold. There he is staring without demonstrating any emotion. It is like he is in a trance. Then I see it those green eyes drinking me in holding me captive. What makes this so weird is Andrew has blue eyes. This is not my imagination those eyes gripping mine refusing to let go are fucking green.
There is something definitely weird about this shit. I am going to have it out with him. I guess there is no better time than now. Sister George intercepted my slugging the freak. The lunch bell rang and as I stood feeling my hand ball into a fist she said, “Andrew come up to my desk, now.”
In the cafeteria there is only one thing you can say that is good about my situation. That is Andy does not have any friends either. That is evidenced by the fact he has the lone table on the opposite of the cafeteria from me. We are bookends that never meet and never speak. I like it that way hoping it does not change anytime soon. Now I sit here looking at him trying to figure out what game he is playing.
My focus is suddenly intercepted by a video playing in my head. It feels like my brain is swelling trying to explode. I see myself sitting on a grassy slope wearing shorts. They are guy’s boat type cotton shorts reaching below the knee and a white rugby shirt. My hair is combed back is in a ruddy guy style. I am viewing gentle waves under a gleaming blue sky I felt something strange. Andrew is sitting next to me leaning back supported by his palms flat on the ground. At this angle his chest is pushed upward and well defined.
Andrew is wearing a short denim skirt pulled up by his position looking very tempting. His eyes are green and I swear his face is a replica of mine. I absently reach out brushing his hair from his eyes. My hair he stole my hair. My hand slides under his cami cupping a firm breast. I lean closer to kiss his tender moist lips. The passionate kiss is breathtaking. My excitement rises when he reaches under my shorts stroking me. I recoil breaking the intrusion getting myself back in control. Again focused seeing the cafeteria and students I relax but Andrew still has my hair and my eyes. This is not my imagination.
It is his hair or should I say my hair he stole. It is more than that he stole my eyes. He fucking stole my hair and my eyes. What the hell is going on, has he elevated stalking to an art form? I stand up starting to walk the ten miles or so across the room. If anyone is paying attention they will notice my balled hands. They cannot help but see my resolute purposeful stride. They might even predict the violence that is about to erupt.
Remember I took great pains to describe the size of that jack handle and how much strength it takes to operate? I mastered it spending better than a year dragging that thing around. A year tossing packing crates in that warehouse. I may be five-seven weighing barely a hundred pounds soaking wet but a year of pushing pulling and throwing built up some muscle. Not to mention changing tires and torquing plugs with a steel wrench. Andrew definitely is no match for me. I can see him sweat as I close in on his table.
Next Chapter 3 Andrew Lyons: Discoveries
Chapter 3 of 9
Rights reserved by author
In our third entry we follow Andrew into the soup. He took a risk then took another.
Where did I leave off? Yes it was on Friday night after discovering Jean Phillips looking back at me in my mirror. That shock caused me to faint. I must have laid on my bedroom floor all night as I just woke up spread out on the carpet. I rushed to the mirror noting I’m still dressed in those clothes. Now I have to shower and put on the other outfit. A girl cannot wear clothes she slept in when going out for a special weekend.
It is not as if I am enjoying this I’m only satisfying a curiosity. I would not be tempting fate with this game if they did not offer an opportunity to see how the rich and famous lived. Clearly it is not my fault that I inherited this mess. Mom bought the clothes for some real estate con. Dad forced me to wear the soapstone skirt and wig. They dragged me to several agents’, offices selling their game. The Sanctuary organization gave me this pass for Andréa limiting it to the registered e-mail owner. You can see it is not my fault or a mess of my making. I look into the mirror of my Beetle while in the parking lot. I am amazed how much I resemble my dream girl. I touch up my makeup insuring everything is right then step out of the car. Several attendants give me the once over as I smooth my skirt and take measured strides to the creaking steps.
Bela is there breaking his neck offering to assist me with the swipe card. He makes sure I understand how the selection works and when to step into the chamber. We already went over this so much I want to scream. He finally backs off giving me space. I cannot do Romance, skiing is out. I never skied before and have no inkling to break something. The Spa sounds dangerous that leaves, Relaxation. I push the button like you are selecting a can of soda. A few lights flicker and a gate opens. I see the scanner which spews colored lights until an l-e-d sign says “Error”. I don’t like the sound of that and try to step back to hear another message, “Adjusting.” Finally, the scanning tube opens on the opposite side. I step into a room designed to look like a cave. The walls have those faux gray rocks with dew and moss on them. A door at the far end opens and I step outside into a garden.
A paved path weaves between rose bushes and a warm gentle breeze is felt. The sun is high and butterflies are alighting on sunflower petals. The sense is spring not October; my clothes did not change in that transition leaving me confused regarding adjustments it might have made. I quickly glanced down to see my skirt flowing with each step. God it felt sensual. The path ended at a circle where several golf carts are parked. Each with a guy wearing Dockers, Rugby shirt and open sandals without socks standing at the ready. Each guy looked like someone from those Hollywood soap opera movies. The big budget ones you see on the late show. I expected to witness the midget running around yelling Da’ Plane.’ My first urge is to laugh instead I had a panic attack. Why would I do that? Easy one of those golf cart drivers looking ever so much like a hunk approached me. He is my driver and will assist me for the weekend. The first stop after he assisted me into the vehicle is my private bungalow.
Troy walked me to the door opening it handing me a key. Do I have to tell you there is something hot about a guy in pressed Dockers, sandals and hands so warm you literally melt into? I suppose you are not surprised his name is Troy either, I’m not. I admit he pointed to a closet then opened it to reveal the most fabulous clothes a girl ever seen. He surprised me again.
“Andi those clothes are for you to keep. Everything is in your size, four I believe. When you are ready to leave I shall pack the clothes for you and carry them out to the car. Please if you wish a dinner companion just pick up the cell on the night stand. My number is programmed; you may call at any time. Please enjoy feel free to request transportation or assistance at your leisure. I am yours alone for the entire weekend.
I thought, ‘sure you are Troy and I bet you are more than willing. Christ how do I get myself into these messes?’ What do I do know and where in hell am I? So here I am at nine AM looking at this amazing bungalow. It is definitely feminine with floral patterns on pastel painted walls. A cool stereo system and wide screen wafer thin monitor. I discovered a wet bar, mini fridge and of all things a hot tub. Now I am not one to panic as I have always played Joe Cool. When I decided the hot tub needs to be tested meaning a swimsuit. Now what kind of swim suit do you think this resort provided for Ms. Andréa Judd? Yeah, right it is called a bikini. In other words it consists of two napkins and a band-aid.
The next thing I know Andi managed to squeeze into whatever that sorry excuse for a swimsuit is called. You must have heard me at least a hundred times say Jean is my dream girl. I had no idea how fantastic she looks. I mean for a girl whose image is a plain next door type; she sure offers plenty of skin in all in the right places. I did not trust myself in the tub with this body. I jumped out quickly racing to the closet and found that tennis outfit. What do they do read your mind? I have to admit while defending my macho male self I loved the feel of this short white skirt. On went the tennis shoes with me heading out the door. I figured they must rent rackets at the court.
Here I am walking along a winding road through a park atmosphere trying to figure out why I’m considering tennis. It sounds like too much work for the son of a Grifter. Son of a Grifter, you mean Helen of Troy’s daughter. Speaking of Troy, here he comes white pearly teeth gleaming like he is in a whitener commercial. God he is hot.
“Hey Andi you look ready for a round on the links. Do you need a lift? I have time we could partner.
“It’s like this I never held a golf club in my life.” My response must have sounded demure. I did not wish to betray his offer excited me. The plan is to keep walking searching for solitude. Find a quiet spot grab a book while the breeze washes over me and a dozen guys cream in their jeans watching and hoping. Troy like most hunks is short on getting hints.
“Excellent Andi, I spent last summer as an instructor. It should not take long to have you looking good. Let’s start out easy playing nine holes.”
He pats the seat next to him on his cute little golf cart. His smile sends a blinding beam of light from those perfect teeth. Against my better judgment my perfect rear lands next to him. It is then I discover short skirts get shorter when you sit. I just learned why one must squat to pick something up. It is one more mystery from the wonderful world of girls. Why do you guys do this to yourselves? I say a silent prayer of thanks that my tennis now golf skirt has a pair of built in shorts.
Any girl looking like me would simply get all gushy if a guy looking like that late night movie actor; Troy Donahue is standing there panting to get closer. I may look like that, however I’m not interested. I have to confess a voice inside my head directed my attention to his package. I did not need much encouragement my eyes were riveted. His glances transmitted he is aware of my growing heat within.
Troy is an excellent teacher as the profession’s custom he likes to be hands on. He held my arms above the wrist and sort of hugged me teaching the right way to grip. He was all arms and I could feel his minty breath as he guided my swing. The warming from the air he exhaled settled on my ear. It sent a shiver to odd places I did not know I had. He found many reasons to rest his hands on my hips. If he had a free hand it seemed to be glued to my waist. I never thought golf is a contact spot. I swear all of these moves could be rationalized as needed to show the proper grip etc. But what possible reason is there to be so close? I could feel his minty breath blowing on my neck. It sent chills it really did and my reaction was to do nothing. I found myself wanting more of it. We finished at two pm or so only to have lunch. It was at one of those round tables in a garden over looking a beach.
I drank a couple of funny named drinks that come with an umbrella in the glass making me feel a bit lightheaded. Troy drove me back telling me at least a hundred times what a great day he is having. The only way I could get rid of him was to promise to have dinner after a nap. He was absolutely drooling when he jumped into that cart.
At eight o’clock I’m shamelessly tempting him wearing a required girlish outfit. I later learned L B D means little black dress. Seriously that garb placed me at risk of going over the edge. What was I thinking when I held that skimpy black sheath with shoelace straps in front of the mirror? To make it worse it does not have sleeves and lacks any material above the shelf bra. Here I am sitting at a table showing more skin than I though I had. I went all out even dabbing perfume at some odd places. When I first put on a pair of two inch heels I expected to break my nose but somehow this rented body knew exactly how to navigate.
Troy is again all eyes and teeth with an occasional hand. Well fingers, during dinner I can’t count the times fingers traced my wrist. The grilled sword fish melted in my mouth and the soup and salad were heavenly. To make matters worse Troy is an excellent dancer why should that surprise anybody? The way he held me sent my body screaming wanting to guide his hand lower than the hip it claimed. For awhile I though it is welded there. I wondered if I could take him home with me. I swear when he kissed me on the dance floor I wet myself. Later I learned that is the female response equivalent to a guy’s erection. Silly me how was I supposed to know?
The guy felt let down when I failed to invite him into my bungalow. It is midnight and for a guy who had never been on a date before even I knew inviting him in would lead to trouble. Tired, I had a wonderful time and agreed to do it again. That worked as he limped back to his cart on three legs in serious pain I’m sure.
I managed to slip out early Sunday afternoon. It was not easy getting rid of Troy. I agreed to take a ride with him to see the island this same morning. Oh yeah, I discovered we are on an island. How I managed to get here exiting that Sanctuary house is beyond me. As we are sitting on a grassy slope viewing gentle waves under a gleaming blue sky I felt something strange. Troy leaned closer and one of his eight hands found its way under my top. I wanted to belt him when within seconds something hardened. No I’m not talking about the impression of something large pressing against my greedy palm. I mean something hard at the end of my fake breast. That little button pointed straight up when his lips pressed against it. Wow, I have a guy’s lips on my nipple. I thought I was going to pass out.
Focused solely on sensations caused by those lips I heard myself moaning. I lost control when my hand is suddenly filled with something long and hard. As he is raising my temperature my fingers sense a tremor as something wet and sticky pools in my palm. I sat up straight blushing when I discovered what I did. Troy is gushing; no not down there he is finished with that. I mean his face it is smiling and moaning. He kisses me again fortunately for me my bad little fingers disarmed his weapon. We scrambled to our feet with Troy apologizing he did not satisfy me and will behave better when I come back in two weeks.
That is if I come back in two weeks. I mean the idea of seeing how the other half lives is intriguing and come on guys you are dying to find out. It turned out to be totally scary. I figure I blew it big time especially when I ended up looking like my dream girl. Imagine I have been swooning over Jean since freshman year. Now that I have a free pass to explore her heavenly body I did not do it. I won’t admit this ever but I couldn’t do it I respect her too much.
Troy as promised lugged the large suit case of free clothes all the way out to my car. He hinted for my number but I’m too smart to fall for that. Keep him guessing that’s what the girls always say. Besides what would I do with a guy the five out of seven days when I’m me? No thanks I’m not going to go there. That is how my first week of freedom went not exactly what any red blooded guy would plan. Now I have a closet full of designer clothes any chick in the top ten at school would die for.
As I lay in bed I dream up schemes of how to talk to Jean. She is a poor kid like I said she lives in a trailer park. She wears the same frumpy clothes to school and is made fun of by the rich kids. I know for a fact how these clothes will look on her and they would fit. How do I give a girl a high priced closet full of clothes without having it come off wrong? Then there is these nagging voices in the back of my head saying keep them. I’d really hate to part with that tennis set err golf set. I’d have no problem giving her those high priced Jeans. They are all fancy designer labels that have strange names I cannot recall. Every top ten babe in school can rattle those names off like melting butter on her tongue. Jean wears nothing but Wranglers I can’t recall ever seeing her legs. I did not think about it when I said it but really I can part with the jeans but not my tennis skirt.
I fell asleep while hearing Troy’s voice whispering in my head. I know now I dreamed but at the time it seemed so real. The excitement of playing Andréa Judd impacted my dreams. I see myself sitting on a grassy slope wearing a denim skirt. Gentle waves are washing upon a shore a few yards away. A gleaming blue sky above with scattered cumulus clouds present a gorgeous peaceful day. I stretch black leaning on my palms drinking in the sun’s rays. I felt something strange.
I tilt my head to see Jean sitting close wearing cotton shorts. Guy’s shorts that reach below his knees. The waist band is covered by a bloused over stripped Rugby shirt. His smile is gleaming as his hands are under my skirt stirring up exciting feelings. At this position my profile must be provocative. I can feel my nipples pressing against my silky blouse. Jean’s hands having unhooked my strap are gently massaging them. I react by rubbing him with earnest discovering his shorts have an elastic band. A shiver goes through me feeling the pulsing in my palm. I sat up when Troy interrupted my dream I could hear his voice whispering, “It is your destiny.”
I set off for school on Monday completely freaked out. There are several issues keeping me off balance. Most of them are minor. Then there are times where you end up saying to yourself get a grip. These kinds of freak out things challenge your core raising questions of who you are. I put on my pair of Wranglers and a tee. First off the jeans are scratchy against my skin making me feel irritated. My white Fruit Of The Loom briefs are rather bulky Not that they are too large or something like that. It is just, well all weekend I wore Hanes Body Creations silk briefs. Guys you can’t imagine how heavenly they feel. Then I saw something hanging in my closet I did not get a chance to try it on for size. It was then I knew my core is threatened.
It was one of those yuppie outdoors companies New Balance you must have seen some of their crap poor kids cannot afford. This skirt hung there teasing me with its luscious purple color. The tag said ultrasoft and stretchy. Wear New Balance Arise skirt over a pair of leggings for a cute and comfy ensemble, complete with a pleated back detail and wide waistband. From New Balance's yoga collection moisture wicking Nirvana polyester fabric with Flat lock seams. What in hell are Flat Lock seams? It must be a brand name because the name is capitalized. It is just not fair the girls get stuff like this and I’m stuck in Wranglers. I ran my fingers over it and nearly died it is so supple. Like the tag said it would look great with tights and white running shoes. I had to remove the jeans and slip the skirt on. I nearly lost it because it was the first time since I got back I looked at my legs. My own legs were back no longer were those shapely gams of Jean’s hanging from my waist. That totally bummed me out. I hung the skirt up broken hearted. Then I went to the bathroom.
That’s when I screamed my junk is missing. Really, no shit my junk is gone. Not shrunk or smaller but gone completely not there. I have this small hole where pee comes out nothing more. Shit what am I going to do now? I used this to excuse my changing into the Hanes body silks. It helped me to feel better. Now all I have to do is convince the nuns to let me wear my New Balance Arise skirt. Yeah right, with my guy legs the skirt would look freaky. I’m not going to bring missing junk up. I can get away with using a stall in boy’s room for awhile. When I get back I will research the Sanctuary outfit about the residual effects bullshit.
First period was living hell. Everybody gave me strange looks. I don’t know why I’m wearing my usual uniform, jeans and tea. They sure as hell can’t see my underwear. The next to worse thing is Sister Karla. She spells it with a K just like the German secret police did when she worked there. I’m making it up it’s just that she looks the part. Every time I tried to steal a peak at Jean, Sister Karla caught me giving me her evil eye. She caught me about five times and each time Jean would pass a stern gaze. It is interesting that Jean never noticed me before. I caught her more than once staring at me. I managed to not look at Jean once during second and third periods. She appeared furious during Sister Karla’s class causing me to shrink. I swore she was about to cross the room and punch me.
Toward the end of third period I started feeling prickly. An odd moist feeling began to permeate in my panties. I began to feel warm under my collar then I heard it, Troy’s voice. At least it sounded like a sexy guy speaking inside my head. I told you he really got to me this weekend. I could hear him whispering seductively. ‘Little girl you are trembling in anticipation. Look at Jean over there he is going to make a woman of you very soon.’ When the bell rang I literally ran out of the room.
Fourth period is physical torture. My bottom feels like it is on fire. I have no idea what is happening and cannot avoid stop looking at Jean. I am fantasizing she is having her way with me. The voice is gone thank goodness but I cannot control my gaze. Then Sister George, after the fifth time catching me her strong glare bores into me. Even worse her arms are folded. Mercifully the bell rings allowing me escape to the lunch room. Sister in her stern voice commands, “Andrew see me at my desk now.” Something sounding like that I’m too petrified to hear her exactly. As Jean stepped to the door her eyes locked on mine, those beautiful green eyes caused sweat to bead up on the base of my neck. That is when I felt it my Meg Ryan hair.
Sister George chastised me, “Andrew I have no idea what you are thinking wearing your hair like that. Are you threatening Ms. Phillips? I find nothing funny in your actions. Do something about it Andrew. Come tomorrow I will use the scissors in my desk. You do not wish to have your classmates feeling uncomfortable being forced to watch me giving you a haircut. One more thing Andrew I am fond of buzz cuts.” Holy shit, I ran to the boys’ room between classes but first had to sit to pee. Two things wrong with that. The splash sounded off and secondly it felt weird to have to wipe.
I look in the mirror and to my horror I am wearing the wig. It turns out it is not a wig I could not yank it off. I clearly remember putting the thing on the foam head in my mom’s room. My hair is chestnut brown the wig I started out wearing was blond. There it is a head full of Jean Phillips hair. So there are two residual effects still not faded away. What am I going to do now? It did not help to comb it differently. I tried but the Jean effect kept coming back. Fourth period is the same as the first three. I’m getting strange looks but some of them actually seem to be appreciative. Then there is the stare coming from those emerald pools I adore. It is not a friendly stare.
The lunch room is arranged like every other school lunch room in the world. That is seating is staked out in order of hierarchy everyone having their own place according to status. This means for four years I sit by myself in the far left corner. Jean sits by herself in the far right corner. It is the way it is supposed to be as she and I have zero friends. No one violates this rule as it is not allowed. Thou shalt not disrupt the social order. Today something forced Ms. Phillips to break the rules. I’m sitting here eating my plate of unidentified school slop when Jean is spotted walking toward me. Hers is a resolute determined walk. Her unmistakable gait screams I’m going to the principal’s office. Before I can react she sits across from me, her elbows on the table supporting her chin. Did I say she has a perfect chin with an adorable dimple?
Jean’s pose clearly signals there is a purpose one not in my best interest. She sits without so much as a may I. My reaction is to sit up at attention like I do when Sister Agnes gets that look. I’m melting with lust staring into her green pools. Before I can react, mount a defense or even a warm hello she attacks.
“Lyons what are you doing? You sit in class everyday staring at me acting like I don’t notice. Today you went over the top. Is this some kind of joke? Are you trying to make fun of me like everybody else? I’ve had it with your crap so knock it off.”
I come back with a pretty lame response. “Phillips isn’t it? You have to admit my plan worked you finally spoke to me after four years of silence. Please enlighten me what specifically pissed you off enough to end your silence?” I can tell she is getting angrier so I figure she does not like my witty response. Somehow I have to turn this conversation around. It does not appear a response is coming so I keep babbling.
“Seriously, Phillips which of my callous selfish and childish behaviors did you find most offensive? How can I correct my offenses if you don’t tell me?” Finally, I struck a nerve.
“Lyons, It’s your hair you did it up to tease me. It looks just like mine. It is bad enough you constantly stare now you want to join the crowd and make fun of me.”
I roll my eyes as she singles out the hair something I have no control over. “Look Phillips my hair is not intentional. If you ever bothered to look at me before you would know my hair on Friday was really short. Think a minute could it possibly have grown this much over the weekend?” Aha, that got her. She stares at me presenting a look that says she knows full well I’m right. What did she do? She reached over the table grabbing my top knot pulling like hell yelling “it’s a wig.” I screamed from the pain. Everybody in the cafeteria starts laughing and pointing and she sits back stunned.
Have you ever tried to appear nonchalant when a crowd of people are laughing and pointing? Some were trying to make smart remarks while guffaws morph into coughing fits. My response is to take an adult approach directing it at the crowd, “Fuck You.”
The next thing I know one of the bigger nuns is issuing the evil eye. She does not take any direct action like lifting me up by pulling on my ears pointing me toward the office. Sister Igor, I’m making that name up, turns to face my tormentors issuing her be quiet order. When she shifts her white habit central to her penguin uniform everybody knows what that means. They shut up at once. We call her Igor because of her presentation. The woman is built like a linebacker and her church name is Sister Ignatius. It is after Saint Ignatius of Loyola or something like that. In religion class we learned after being seriously wounded in the Battle of Pamplona in 1521, he underwent a spiritual conversion while in recovery. De Vita Christi by Ludolph of Saxony inspired Loyola to abandon his previous military life and devote himself to labor for God, following the example of spiritual leaders such as Francis of Assisi.
If you want to know more you can look it up on the net. I’m sure there is no shortage of information. In the meantime Jean is still looking darts at me not convinced this isn’t a wig. I can’t blame her who can believe this shit. My hair is just like hers right down to the roots. I try to lighten the conversation by admitting, “It looks better on you.”
It almost brought a wry smile. Like I said almost, she then shocked me.
“Lyons even if I bought your lame excuse your hair grew over the weekend into a perfect replica of mine including the color, how do you explain the other change?”
“Other change, what the hell are you talking about?” She is clearly pissed off blaming me for yet another affront. I did not do anything. What is causing her to explode? I did not have to wait too long.
“I suppose wearing those contacts is your way of highlighting your phony hair. So it’s not a wig or you have some fantastic bonding agent. But beyond contacts there is no way to change your eye color. I can understand using green contacts but changing the shape as well. You must be into some sick shit to carry stalking this far.”
I expected her to make a grand exit after slugging me. Those balled up fist serve as a warning. She simply sat there doing nothing waiting for some response. How in hell can I respond to something as stupid as that? Jean is so angry she has lost the ability to use common sense. In the first place I am not wearing contacts and there is no way I could change the shape of my eyes.
“Jean I have no idea what you are talking about. I’m not wearing contacts. My eyes did not and could not change shape. I think you are losing it. I will try not to stare at you any more. I’m sorry if I am bothering you but I can’t help the way I feel.”
Speechless she appears to be processing what I said. Her expression tells me she is not buying it. She takes a long time to answer most likely she is gathering herself to issue a contained explosion.
“They are not green huh. You are not wearing contacts and your eyes are not shaped just like mine. You had nothing to do with it, right. It must have been the eye fairy paid you a visit. You have to commend her she did a great job applying your mascara.”
Now I am in full panic, “What are you talking about? My eyes are blue and I’m not wearing mascara. What do you take me for?”
“Lyons, go check in the boy’s room, you are not convincing enough for the girl’s room yet though you’re getting there. Go ahead, I’ll wait.”
Now she is issuing challenges and threatening my manhood as well. I stand slowly looking down at Jean. “You will wait?”
She nods then stands with a strange expression. “I thought you were taller than me.”
“I am,” then I look suddenly discovering we appear to be the same height. I turn and run to the bathroom. Standing there facing sheer panic I nearly freak out. There in the mirror is Jean Phillips’ face staring at me. Her green eyes are enhanced with the slightest touch of eye liner or lashes or whatever products I know nothing about. They are green the brightest most beautiful oval green eyes I’ve ever seen. Defeated I walk back to the lunch room clueless unable to offer any defense let alone an answer.
Jean is still at my table wearing her I told you so look. She also carries a persona transmitting there will be no reprieve. There will be an answer and she will have it or else. I sit about ready to cry noticed by Jean. In total silence I gawk at her unable to speak trying to shrink. The last thing I want to do is get into a discussion about Andréa. Admitting that will certainly send her over the edge and I will lose her forever.
Well,” she presses but cannot complete her sentence. I did not see it coming but should have. Using slow motion replay shows Brittany at the cool table whispering into the ear of a follower. The follower, a jock well endowed no doubt based upon what Brittany likes stands. He is carrying a cup of what I don’t know. The zombie follower fakes tripping dumping the contents on Jean’s head. I discovered what filled the cup because Jean is covered by almost a pint of ketchup.
Jean stands screaming the red stuff covering her blouse, jeans and hair. The jock utters a phony, “sorry.”
Sister Igor didn’t buy it as to my shock she lifts the offender by his ears literally carrying him out of the room. I always thought Igor’s strength came from exaggerated lies told to scare students so much for that myth. A jock once known as Pete Gibbons is hauled away to be forever called ears, Jean is still freaking. I whispered a request to Sister Paula who is sympathetic to tormented students. She scribbled out a pair of passes and I with unaccustomed bravado hustled Jean out the door into the parking lot.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” She demands of me as I try not to laugh at her dripping orange hair.
“Jean you need to change your clothes. I got us passes to be excused for the rest of the day. I will give you a ride. Those jeans will be ruined if we don’t get the stains out quickly.” I open the pea green door of my Beetle noticing her befuddled stare.
“Lyons when did you get a car?”
“You must have heard my parents got twenty years in jail. It will be twenty years before they become eligible for parole. It seems the old man was hoarding cash. I found it; he owes me so I bought a car. Notice I bought on the cheap,” Being a gentleman with a huge crush I open the door for Jean who sits cautiously.
I start the car turning south toward my house when Jean begins to look a bit nervous. I slow not wanting to scare my dream girl away. I ask with my softest voice. “Is there anything wrong?” She turns her face toward the window answering in a muffled voice.
“I thought you were driving me home to change.” The tremor in her voice alarmed me. Is she afraid of me?
“If that is what you want it’s just I have five pair of designer jeans in your size that were given to me in error.” I could tell she is not swallowing this story. It is the best I can come up with. They came from Sanctuary part of the free clothes thing. I am not about to wear girl’s jeans. I added quickly, “Really I do, you can have them.”
“Lyons, it’s not that I’m afraid of you. I don’t know if I can trust you. What do you think it sounds like when I hear about free designer jeans in my size you ordered my mistake? Really and we are the same size.”
“They are your size, we are the same. Remember same hair, eyes and now size. Give me a shot I will prove it to you.” She stared at me with a blank doubtful expression. I kept driving toward home while Jean leaned as close to the door as possible. My thoughts focused on my parents they were both into clothes. My dad never left the house without being immaculate. He always said when trying to reel in a mark you had to impress. That is why he rented a house in this neighborhood.
It sits near the top of a low ridge on the edge of town. The house is not a showpiece is built on a half acre lot with an impressive yard. I lucked out with the welfare continuing the rent payments. Mom and dad’s life style has always troubled me and I swear I will do the right thing. I glanced at Jean knowing I could never expect a girl like her to share a life my parents led. I am getting closer to my street and notice Jean’s expression has not changed.
“You can try the jeans and if they fit which they will you can have them. Like I said I got them for nothing and I have no use for them.” She did not answer so I tried to ease her concerns. “Tell you what if it makes you feel better wait in the car I will bring them out to you. I’d feel a bit nervous going into a stalkers house if I were you.” She smiled as we pulled into the driveway.
“Really Lyons you think I’m afraid of you? We are the same size and I have bigger muscles.”
Jean smiled for the first time since she got into the car. Like the king of Grifters always told me when the bird is flighty give it a reason to relax. I shut off the car ready to run around to open her door but she is too fast exiting rather quickly. I smile watching her look around trying to be cool. “Come on Phillips since you aren’t afraid of me.” She stared following me to the door.
“You live here by yourself?” She asked with an incredulous lilt to her voice.
“Yup since the felons were hauled off to the slammer. I have the place to myself.”
“Lyons, what kind of scam are you running? Are you rich or something? How do you pay the rent or mortgage or whatever?”
I blink opening the door as the rumored poor kid simply is surprised when seeing my digs. I never thought about it before but she had no idea of where I lived. I guess I’m about to surprise her. “Phillips you think you are poor when I’m the poor one. You are much better off than I am. You have two parents that I hear are really super. Me, not so much mine are in jail because they are thieves. The house is paid for by the welfare.” She stared at me in total disbelief.
As I held the door for her I smiled not saying anything more.
“Nice digs, just the same for welfare trash Lyons.”
She is laughing while poking me as in a tease. I did not feel offended. We sat on the sofa. Well I did she took a chair across from me. Ms. Phillips is still maintaining her safe distance. I am feeling a bit apprehensive as my dream girl is in my house. How in hell did this happen? “You probably want to make this short. That room near the kitchen is mine. Hold on a minute and I will dig out the jeans. They are in the closet.”
She looked at me doubtfully as I dashed to my room. The jeans are quickly stacked on the edge of the bed then I had a thought. Ketchup in her hair, on her clothes, she may want a shower. I toss an unopened pack of Hanes silky boy shorts and an unopened Bali bra package on top of the jeans. Then I walked back into the living room. “All set Phillips the jeans are on the bed along with unopened packages of new underwear in your size in case you want to shower. The bedroom and bath room doors have locks just so you know.”
“There you go again Lyons. My size how do you know what my size is if you are not a stalker and why are you doing this?”
She is standing right in front of me those green eyes blazing. “Phillips, we are the same height, we have the same hair, the same eyes I bet we even weight within a pound of each other. The jeans are size four they fit me. They will fit you. Why you ask? Try processing this thought, I think I love you.”
Next Chapter 4 Jean Phillips Discovering a Secret.
Rights reserved by author
Because I love you, he said that about me is this kid nuts? Do I dare go into his room? What if he follows me inside? The lock on the door enables him to trap me. I turn and stare at Andrew he looks as nervous as I feel inside. “Go on out to the porch and wait until I close the door.” He smiles without a word walking outside like I requested. I scurry into the room close the door and lock it sitting quickly on the bed. What I see shocks me there are two sealed packages one containing a bra and another new panties. He was not kidding these are new unopened and my size. Still trying to piece all this strangeness together I finger through a stack of jeans. “Are you shitting me? Look at these things.” I heard myself saying those words aloud shivering. I’m imagining all sorts of possibilities. “What next, do I sit here waiting to see an ax blade rip through a door panel?” In my mind images of a deranged replica of Jack Nicholson arrives shredding the panel door. Those are the thoughts spoken and unspoken that are racing in my head. I want answers. He is not going to get away with that limp wristed spiel he threw at me. These five jeans together cost more than five hundred dollars.
I read the labels seeing Royal Blue, Revolt, Piper's Closet, Vigold and Paris Blues. This is a princess’ dream so I carefully pick up the Paris Blues and the undies then head into the shower. He did not lie there is an inside lock on the door. About fifteen minutes later I exit the shower and dress. The undies and the jeans fit perfectly but my blouse is ruined covered with ugly red smears. What am I going to do now? Mom is going to pitch a fit. I am distracted from my worry when accidentally catching my reflection in the bed room mirror. These jeans look amazing I cannot believe such a collection of rad clothes in a boy’s room. These clothes feel almost sensual while looking amazing appearing as if they are a second skin. I gather my thoughts unable to rationalize any of this. I want some answers.
Lyons is sitting on the sofa staring at the floor when I come out. “Thanks for the shower I really appreciate it. But I can’t take all those jeans they are far too expensive. Mom will ask too many questions and you won’t want me to tell her the truth. I won’t lie to her. I will borrow this pair and return them at school tomorrow.” Surprisingly he offered no answer while forcing a defeated nod. “What’s wrong Andy? You look bummed out.”
“Your blouse is ruined. I got one in the closet just like it. Go put it on your mother won’t know the difference.” His answer surprises me yet again. Here I expected some girly whine sounding like woe is me considering the mother lode of awesome costly jeans he laid out on his bed.
“Thanks,” I say unable to come up with anything else. When I open his closet there are dozens of high end girl clothes hanging there. I thumb through finding the blouse. He is right it is the same yellow scoop neck Carhartt sleeveless blouse. Naturally it is in my size. I put it on picking up the pile of dirty ruined clothes and carry them to the living room. Once again Andrew surprises me by taking the dirty laundry from my hands walking toward the kitchen. “The laundry room is out here,” he says softly.
His speech is neutral almost without affect. I chase after him about to protest but he has already begun to roll on a spot cleaner rubbing it into the ketchup stains. I did not see the label but it is the green tube like the one mom has. Andy rubbed in the spot remover on all my clothes and popped them into the washer. “I can give you a ride home while those are washing. I will bring them to school tomorrow.”
“Andy,” I say “What’s going on? You have a closet full of rad clothes better than the queen bees in our school. You live alone without any females. Don’t tell me they are something delivered by mistake. They obviously fit you and I’m guessing you wear them.”
He has that deer in the headlights expression where the only thing I can think of is to take his hand leading him to the couch. “Sit.” I used my no nonsense mom voice while fighting back a laugh. The little boy in him casts eyes toward the floor silently complying. I sat next to him holding his hand. “I want you to tell me what is going on there is certainly something strange happening. Are you gay or just a cross dresser?” I recalling seeing that soapstone skirt hanging in his closet. I thought how great it would look. I mentioned it to Andi telling him, “It surely would bring out the color in my green eyes.” Before I could finish he interrupted.
“Jean if you like it you can have it.”
Shaking my head I refused to let him deflect. “No I said yes it would look good with my eyes, in other words your eyes. I want you to put it on along with a blouse that goes with it. Don’t forget panties, bra and those breasts forms you have sitting on your dresser. For the record I did not miss seeing them. Then you can tell me what in hell is going on. Hurry up I’m dying for answers and you are not going to get away without providing them. Don’t forget to brush your hair out just like mine.”
He froze terrified but did not voice any objections. His presentation is like a guy who got caught, caught because he wanted to get caught. Andy could have hid all of this stuff. If he wanted I would not have seen any of it. I suddenly realized he hoped I’d discover his stash. Wow with that conclusion I’m feeling like I’m Nancy Drew. He walked into his room closing the door and I waited. My mind raced half furious with how he spent this entire school year watching me saying nothing. I thought I was the target of a stalker now I know it is something else. Yes it is something else, he wants to be me. I should run like hell this kid is nuts. He said he loved me. I did hear that didn’t I? Sure he loves me a boy who tries to look like me. That’s every girl’s dream to have a boyfriend she can swap skirts with. On second thought if he could squeeze out the kids in nine months he is the perfect boyfriend. I mean me having to do it is an ugly thought.
I sit here in the living room waiting forever convincing myself he chickened out. No matter what, I promised myself I will not laugh. He treated me better today than anyone in that school ever did. With the creaking sound of the door opening I slowly turn intending to fight off my expected giggles. I’m not laughing. I see Andy standing there he is not wearing the soapstone skirt. Instead I see and believe me when I say I’m not laughing. Andi or should I say Andréa wearing a cotton jersey knit. It is a very comfortable looking V-neck in Petal pink. The sleeveless Carhartt top looks so casual on him. I gasp when noticing his delicate arms. I simply adore the color on her. What can I say? I’m almost mute managing only a weak “Turn around.”
The blouse is perfect with the skirt he selected. Lyons turns slowly while blushing. I saw this skirt advertised recognizing it because in a pity moment I wanted it. I almost forgot my ban on skirts. My ban on allowing easy access to ravaging hands had relaxed for that one weak moment. Here he is showing off the Sidekick skirt. What I really like about this one is those slant hand side pockets and welt back pockets. Though the way it caresses his figure it’s not like you can slide anything into those pockets beyond fingers.
I reach out touching the bodice of the skirt as he continues his slow turn, the material must be a blend of cotton and polyester as to the touch it almost turns me on. I can tell the way his blouse rides just over the skirt’s waist band it is settling slightly below the waist. Its length is a sexy two inches above dare I say it, pretty knees. Andréa went all out wearing a pair of Mary Janes with a chic, stylish, cork wrapped wedge heel. They are fitted with a leather over strap. The textile upper body is luxuriant supple brown. Hook and eye asymmetric strap wraps over the top of the foot. The shoes feature cork wrapped wedge mid sole and heel with a rubber outsole.
“You look fantastic Andréa.” I caught her blush when she heard my compliment noting how I enunciated a feminine version of her name. My sudden change in pronoun use describing Andréa is deliberate. There is no male anywhere in this room. I could not help myself and hugged her whispering, “Thank you for trusting me.” Without another word I literally dragged Andréa to what I guessed was her parent’s room. I’d been poking around when spotting a bed room with a vanity. “Sit down,” I ordered pointing to the makeup table.
Andréa is sitting quietly looking embarrassed having been forced to come out in front of me. I promised myself to be gentle. Using a brush I feathered her hair repairing both side and forehead bangs. Very carefully I touched up the eye liner she obviously applied earlier. “Ok stand up next to me.” She did again very slowly acting as if she is about to cry. I placed my hands on her shoulder turning her to face the mirror. Then I stood next to Andréa “Ok sport I’m going to take inventory you keep focused on that mirror.”
Standing shoulder to shoulder I asked her, “Do you notice we are the same height? Don’t answer just say check if you agree.” So I hear her assent coming back as “check.”
“Do you notice your eyes are exactly like mine? Yet you say you did nothing to them. Just like your hair. Let me remind you it looks nothing like it did on Friday. Yet you say you did nothing to your hair. You can see we are fucking twins. Sit down on the edge of this bed and start talking.”
Once again Andréa complied, sitting on the edge of the bed her luscious legs dangling. I almost kissed her as I sat as close as I could dying to hear this story. I braced myself not expecting the wild tale about to come out of her mouth. I cannot look at my twin calling her Andrew. That will not compute in my confused brain. Andréa begins slowly almost whispering in a delicate voice. I know if she speaks with some volume it will sound just like me. So a hushed frightened soft voice is easier on my shocked mind.
I hear about her spam mail invitation to Sanctuary House and a vampire like persona she called Bela. I wanted to laugh holding back for fear of freaking her out. I want to hear the story even if I don’t believe it. From what I read cross dressers tell some whoppers to avoid ridicule. I learned about the free clothes which itself is bull. Nobody gives away thousands in clothes without a catch. The story of the island and the dreamy guy who provided golf lessons a lunch date and a dance sounded like an imaginative. I wanted to interrupt with a wise remark but did not at least at this moment. Andréa interrupts her story asking, “You don’t believe me do you?”
“Andréa, look I’m a girl who guys used to hit on I almost got raped. The way you describe this Troy fellow he was after something you didn’t do anything gay did you? I promise I won’t judge you but you could not give him what he wanted. Was he gay and you guys,” I could not say the words. The hurt in Andréa’s eyes bore through me. I stopped myself allowing my words to hang. I sensed Andréa is about to let loose in a flood of tears. I pushed too far knowing all that remains, all I can do is hold her in my arms mumbling, “I’m sorry,” at least a hundred times. Andréa feels so soft, so vulnerable in my arms. We rocked together for several minutes in silence.
What happened next almost caused me to run out the door screaming. Andréa stood stepping back two or three paces. She dropped her skirt to the floor standing in her panties. ‘What the hell is this kid up to? The last thing I want to see is her appendage. She is about to ruin the entire mood.’ My shocked expression registered somewhere in her confused brain because she froze simply standing there in her panties. I could tell she wanted to go further but is having doubts. A lot of girls are curious and really would like a closeup view of an appendage. Virgins like me, an almost eighteen year old one are somewhat doubtful about that. I am having enough trouble with who I am. I don’t need this, I don’t want it then I notice something. She is wearing nylon or silk panties. They are white and very thin. We girls are fully aware of how thin nylon panties are. This is what strikes me Andréa is flat no bulge, no impression of a snake hiding ready to strike.
Andréa smiles touching my arm as if trying to calm me without words. I tried to protest but she dropped her panties to the floor. Now she is crying and my eyes are as big as any anime character. What I am looking at is shocking. As the guys have taken to refer to as their junk her’s is missing totally not there. She did not tuck it someplace she does not have one. There is only a slight depression with a small opening about the size of a, well of a what I’m not sure.
“I’m so sorry, God Andréa forgive me.” The shock from my eyes caused her to pull up her panties and skirt quickly. She sat on the edge of the bed trembling. I hugged her stoking her hair soothing her. Wanting to ask but not daring. I remembered Andrew Lyons said he loved me. Andrew is not a stalker what Andréa just revealed to me is beyond trust. I took her in my arms without any further hesitation I pressed my lips to hers. My first ever kiss and it is with a girl. ‘Mom this will make you so freaked out. Why is it not freaking me out?’ While my conflicted brain is processing all of this my hungry lips are continuing a passionate kiss. It is long, slow and tender definitely turning me on. We held each other for sometime until she finally spoke. “You hate me.”
Then that vision in the cafeteria came rushing back. Me cupping Andréa’s breasts while she stroked my, I purged that thought. ‘What the hell is going on?’ Now it is me trembling. I pull myself together answering him or her.
“Andréa I do not hate you in fact I could grow to love you. Whether you realize it or not we have a unique bond. I want you to tell me about this Sanctuary thing.” I gently probe knowing I’d have a difficult time talking about a sexual encounter. I draw on the idea we are twins perhaps Andréa can discuss details. “What did happen with Troy last weekend?”
A wary countenance washed across his face. Shit I keep screwing up the pronouns. Let me repeat a wary countenance washed across her face. What can I expect? I’m fully aware Andrew Lyons is a guy. Is a guy without junk and a bottom looking like mine. Can I really call Andréa a guy? A guy who lusted over me for years and here he sits presenting as Andréa very far from any guy I’ve ever known. If you think Lyons is messed up imagine what I’m going through.
“Jean I was wearing a little black dress so sexy it scared the shit out of me. You saw those breasts forms. They look real and with a push up bra the strapless bare shouldered dress screamed girl. Worse yet the whispering included descriptors like beautiful girl. We danced close. I’m wearing heels for the first time. Rather than being clumsy, tripping all over the place I glided effortlessly. His hand rested on my hip sliding down silky material causing me to feel moist. I did not know what that meant until later.”
“He drove that silly golf cart. I did not see any other type vehicle at the resort so perhaps that is all they allow. When he drove me back to the bungalow I am as excited as I’ve ever been. I wanted desperately to let him jump my bones. I realized that is not possible and what is possible disgusted me. I politely declined inviting him in noticing his surprise. I also noticed his excitement telling me of what he expected. When he kissed me I did not object, I confess I wanted more. It was when his fingers touched my breasts I felt a pulsing like my nipple grew taut. Plastic nipples cannot grow taut. I kept my cool and begged off. Too afraid to explore further I went to bed not looking at myself. I swear it was only a simple game and a test to see if I could get in with that phony persona.”
“When I woke up Sunday morning I got out of there earlier than I had to and even that did not help me avoid Troy. He wants to meet the next weekend for a special Halloween treat. You know he is going to try harder to get me in bed. He said something odd telling me I can invite a male friend. If he wants to screw my brains out why bring a male friend along? I’m scared shitless especially when I got up Monday for school discovering these residual effects as they call them.”
I listened to this unbelievable story with the evidence before my eyes. Denial is not going to work. Even a hard core isolationist can’t ignore what she sees. “What happened on Monday morning?”
“Jean you can see the results. I had short hair on Friday and when I woke up my hair is a duplicate of your’s. Hair can’t grow that fast while changing color and the sandman is not a stylist. You saw my junk disappeared. How in the hell is that possible?”
Andréa is on the verge of freaking out. Instinctively I draw her into my arms holding the girl gently to reassure. My thoughts once again conflict me as my curiosity rises to a dangerous level. My thoughts repeatedly reject any desire of me, Jean Phillips making out with a female. That evil voice returned urging me to take her. I shut my mind locking the voice out. When you consider the message it confirms my belief, to be a girl is to be used. Ever since that pig assaulted me acting as if he is entitled to screw any female; that notion has grown in my mind. At that moment I was convenient. He did not care about me all he wanted was a compliant vagina to dump his seed. Until that point I prided myself for being pretty and worked at presenting the same as the perfect ten in our school. That night everything ended raising my defenses.
“Look Andréa I’m asking for a big favor this week you can bring a male friend right?”
“Yes do you want to fake being a guy? I warning you don’t do it.”
“Why not? You are turning into me. Why can’t I see what it’s like to be you? I will need a picture of you before these changes to make an avatar.”
She told me the avatar of Andrew Lyons is already attached to the card. Again she warned me this is dangerous. She backtracked repeating the read me file that came with a million disclaimers.
“Jean it said quite clearly the residual effects may fade over time. There is no research to predict what effects if any will appear.”
I’m not letting go of this. “What is the worst thing that can happen? Your junk may return but I doubt it. You seem to be growing a vagina. You looked shocked. I have had my own for eighteen years. I know what they look like and what you have is a close facsimile incomplete but close. Let’s say you keep progressing in this direction. Would it bother you?”
Andréa’s answer surprised me when she said for the last four years she admired me from afar. She did not understand her feelings she interpreted as love. Her conflict raised questions over why I never wore skirts or dresses. She wanted me to prove to the world how pretty I am. This caused me to blush and possibly feel a bit guilty. Then her comments raised concern while suggesting my curiosity may not be ridiculous after all. Andréa told me she found herself jealous wanting to be as pretty as me knowing it is not possible. Then her next comment shattered me.
“You know when I was in my bungalow Saturday night I realized I became a complete replica of you. A lot of guys would jump at the opportunity to be a pretty girl for a weekend, as long as they can escape on Monday morning. It is a curiosity thing that drives a hidden desire. What do you think they’d do? Don’t answer, we both know.”
I giggle when hearing this confession. “It’s okay Andréa it is only natural that you would, how do I put this? Explore my body; one you wanted for four years believing you could never explore me. I understand I’m not angry.” I held the confused almost girl tightly. Then Andréa floored me.
“You don’t understand and please do not hate me or think I am awful. The first thing I did was try on every skirt and dress admiring Jean in the mirror. At some point I discovered the breasts forms were real totally freaking me out. They could not be removed and pulling on them hurt like hell. I touched your breasts gently with my fingers. Yes they came alive and I felt shame for doing that. I know I was not the real you but it felt like you were there. I instantly threw on a silky sleep shirt and the feeling set me on fire. I never did remove your panties to explore. God how I wanted to but I could not violate the girl I loved. Then it dawned on me I wanted to be you. I ache to be you.”
My trembling body holds Andréa close and I feel shallow breathing and her chests rising and falling. Our lips meet again as we fall to the bed. Resisting doing something totally weird denying any lesbian tendencies I sit up. “Andy, I have to do this. I owe it to you. That may sound strange but what happens if you do turn to me. How in hell can you explain it? Can I go with you on Halloween?”
“You are playing with fire. I am afraid what may result from this.”
“Relax Andréa if I come back looking like you, you move into my house with my parents. Believe me they do not know they presently have twins. You can fool them. I will teach you all you need to know to settle in. If I have your junk I expect we can have a lot of fun. Just so you know I’m a virgin and not on the pill.” I sense fear rising in Andréa’s eyes then calm comes over her.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Pick me up at my house on Halloween. Then we will switch. You dress like me and I dress like you. I can then go try this place out for the day. My parents will never allow me to go away for a week end.”
Andréa appeared horrified as if I asked her to jump off a bridge. “Why do you want to try this thing out as a guy? You are beautiful and have great parents who love you.”
I tried to make a joke of it. “It looks like those residual changes are not going away. Just think if I can grow my own junk turning into me we could be boyfriend and girlfriend. It sure as hell looks like you are not finished turning into me. What being a girl scares you? I can assure you your changes scare me as well. You are turning into me perhaps I can return the favor.”
He looked at me like I was joking and for a moment I think I am as well. In the end Andréa agreed to play Jean while I played at being Andrew. I still don’t believe it. Suddenly I am not so sure as I’m on the verge of chickening out. Andrew said something that shook me to the core, he said my parents love me. When I think about it I love them and don’t want to cause those wonderful people pain.
By this time my clothes are dried and all the stains are out. Andréa folds them neatly placing them in a large plastic bag one you use for lawn waste. I am still torn by conflict pulling me in several directions. Suppose this hairbrained scheme were to actually work. Do I want to give Andréa my parents and become him? I don’t think so would I like his body, that is easy to answer, yes. I snap from my fretting tossing out a few wise ass comments. “Andréa someday you will make a great housewife. Can I still keep those Jeans? Oh from now on stay away, from Troy.”
I am carrying my clothes out to Andréa’s cute little ugly car. Yes, it is both cute and ugly. The thing is rather noisy and resembles something thrown together as an after thought. I always pictured myself driving a cool sports car. I know that is a pipe dream. If the truth be known the likelihood is Jean Phillips will end up driving a mini van filled with screaming kids. It will be my old man who has the cool car. I promise myself that will not happen. I catch Andréa’s expression questioning her, “Problem, is something bothering you? You forgot to change by the way. Uh, don’t bother that outfit looks great on you.”
Andréa freezes several steps from the car looking down checking herself out just like a girl. After she nearly freaks almost running into the house she settles. One of my pity comments must have brought her back to this reality. How can I call it reality? It is what it is the new girl by my side is scared shitless.
“I can’t do this, this pretending to be you. I’m not going to allow you to give up your life to become me. I can’t let you toss away everything you have forget that idea” Now it is my turn to freeze hearing him waffle. It means my chance to escape the monthly mess while doomed to a destiny of frilly clothes, primping and spitting out kids is crashing down on me. “Are you saying you will not let me use your guy pass?” My voice must have sounded as if I’m pleading like a pathetic little girl. I could see it in his face. I open the car door sliding into the cramped space still searching her face.
“Jean what if I go as the guy to get my old self back? We could be friends, Andy and Jean. Things will get better neither one of us will be miserable. What do you say?”
I did not answer him until we almost reach my house. I can see Andréa is on pins and needles waiting to hear from me. My voice must have sounded rather cold when the words came out. “Andréa it is your ticket do what you want to do with it.” Neither of us spoke the rest of the drive. When the car pulled up out front of my house I jumped out grabbing my bag slamming the door uttering one word, “Later.”
Andréa stared at me with doe eyes struggling to hold back the tears. I felt small sensing I caused a deep wound knowing I cannot leave her like this. “Andréa wait,” I shout seeing the car suddenly slam into reverse backing up to the curb. At the same time my father hearing the commotion walks off the steps toward me. I push ahead anyway speaking in a hurry to Andréa trying to keep my voice down. “I’m sorry I sounded so crass. We can talk about this tomorrow at lunch, okay?”
Sitting behind the wheel, Andréa relaxes offering a relieved smile. “I was worried you hated me and would go back to the way you were avoiding me. We can talk tomorrow, I’m so confused.”
I step back as Andréa shifts the car into gear but is again halted by yet another voice, dads.
“Who is your friend honey?”
I think of myself as quick, cool and sharper than the average person in this town. I am going to be the valedictorian aren’t I? Sure why did the dim bulb go when I answered? “Dad this is Andi Ly, err Andréa.” I forgot his fake name then suddenly while Andréa is blinking I remember the name Judd. Dad is accepting that because before I can eep out Judd he is talking.
“Andréa it is nice to meet you. Jean never talks about her friends I’m glad to finally to meet one. Do you have time to come in? Dinner is almost ready.”
I can see the panic in her face it spells flight. Too late, mom is here and she pounces upon my large trash bag.
“What do you have in the bag honey?”
It is an innocent question anyone would ask. There is no point in making up a story. So I tell mom about the ketchup and that bastard Pete Gibbons. I finish explaining how Andréa came to the rescue. While I am doing this, dad already talked Andréa out of her car. Nobody appears to notice the preppy version of me in her Horny Toad oatmeal skirt, Mary Janes, luscious to die for pink top and cardigan sweater. I take a deep breath, Mom just might have and I suck in more air listening to mom as she searches through the bag.
“Andréa that is so nice of you. Luke grill some stakes. Andréa must stay for dinner it is the least we can do.”
I can tell mom is dying to say more but her comments surprise me. They are not what I expected to hear. I swear my mother is psychic.
“Andréa, Jean the school called and told me what happened. I knew you went to Andi’s house and I know about that awful boy. Come inside it’s more comfortable we can talk there.”
On the verge of freaking out I follow mom and Andréa into our living room. Andi sweeps her skirt under her like a pro as she alights herself onto the sofa. Mom sits across from her while I take the kitchen table type chair in front of the computer desk. I deftly determined not to sit next to Andi not wanting to make the resemblance obvious. A thread of hope hung in my thinking they won’t make a connection because Andréa looks like a babe and I look like me.
Mom is sorting through my clothes raising a broad smile. They passed her laser eye with flying colors. “Andréa, you did an amazing job getting out those ketchup stains. I am impressed. Now it is Andi’s turn to impress me with her quickness. I can see why my road to valedictorian status is a rough one.
“Mrs. Phillips Jean told me you were not home this afternoon. My mom taught me stains like this must be treated at once or the clothes will be ruined. I rushed her to my house and gave Jean a pair of extra jeans and blouse. She can have them I have extras. I’m sorry it took so long for me to get Jean home but we wanted to wait for the clothes to finish.”
Dad came in from the back deck all smiles handing me a hundred dollars.
“Here you go dear.”
I look at dad stunned, “What is this?” Dad explains he was so mad when he heard what Pete did he nearly had a melt down. I will let dad tell you this. He is quite satisfied with himself.
“When your mother told me what this little creep did I went to see his father, Art. Art is a weasel who nearly freaked when I showed up at his office. He is one of those Goddamned lawyers who thinks his shit does not stink. Well to make a long story short he gave me the money to pay for your clothes. The little bastard is grounded for a month and is suspended from school for a week. Those nuns are tough. They are having an assembly the day Pete comes back. He has to apologize to you in front of the whole school or he is expelled.”
Mom has other ideas. She takes the money out of my clutching fingers handing it to Andi.
“The money is yours dear. You rescued my daughter and fixed the clothes. You certainly earned it.”
I present my how could you at mom gaze who simply offers her you know it’s right dear look. There goes an easy hundred bucks while Andi is saying she does not want the money. Once again mom shows why she is a mom.
“Andréa you must take the money I won’t take no for an answer.” Andi blushes catching the drift knowing arguing will get her nowhere.
“Do they know?” Andréa says to me after dinner while we hide out in my room.
“Know what?” I counter fully understanding her question not having any idea why they did not comment. How could they not notice I have a twin who is sitting right in front of them? Mom is not so out of touch she could have forgotten she birthed two girls. Is it possible they did not notice? I finally offer some crazy answer out of desperation. “Andi perhaps because you are dressed to the nines and I’m plain old me in jeans and tee they did not see.”
“Right, sure and pigs can fly. I only just met your mother. The secret is out that woman is one of those who does not miss a trick. No wonder you have been miss perfect your entire life. Your mom has always been one step ahead of you.”
I did not even try to deny what Andi said. I know she is correct so when is the other shoe going to drop? I did not have to wait long as there is a tapping on my door. It is mom of course, who does not wait to be invited,
“Andréa I wonder you have been so kind to Jean would you like to spend the night?”
Andi glances at me and I nod giving her permission. I am beginning to sweat because I know my mother. This is just the beginning and mom does not lose a minute. Her expression grows serene like she is trying to show empathy or something.
“Andréa, I know you can’t call your parents we heard about, well we know. You are a brave girl and I’m proud of how you are holding up. If you ever need someone to talk to I am a good listener. Did you wear those clothes to school today?”
Andi shakes her head no with a quizzical expression asking without words why mom is asking.
“Good,” mom responds, “I know how most girls will not wear the same outfit two days in a row. We are not like guys who simply throw on a pair of jeans and run out the door. Jean, give Andréa a sleep shirt and do you have an unopened pair of panties Andréa can have?”
I nod answering over Andi’s loud giggling. “Yes I have a couple packages. No problem.” Still nearly freaking I watch my mouth open.
Mom turns to Andréa, “I will wash and dry your adorable skirt and blouse. I only wish Jean would dress as impressively as you dear. Jean can’t you see how beautiful you would look? It is rather obvious all you have to do is turn toward Andréa to get a glimpse of how pretty you are.”
Shit, shit ,shit the cat is out of the bag. How stupid do you have to be to think mom did not notice? I grit my teeth waiting for the explosion. Mom interrupts my freaking out.
“Andréa your parents must be distant relatives you look so much like Jean. You could have been her twin. I can see differences but this is astounding. Can you talk my daughter into looking more like a girl?”
Andi laughs, “We notice how much we looked alike. I hear everybody has a double somewhere but never thought I’d meet one.” My parents are from the west coast and never talked about family.” She blushes signaling she is about to cry. “Considering what they did I’m not surprised. It is likely they were disowned. I know nothing of our relatives perhaps I’ll never find out.” Now a tear forms as she sniffles.
Mom hugs her offering comfort. “I pry too much sorry to bring out something to cause you pain dear. Why don’t you kids get to bed and I will have your clothes ready in the morning.”
Mom leaves Andi and me staring at each other. “Lyons, you never in your fondest dreams could have let yourself believe you’d be sleeping with me.”
Andi raises a wry smile, “I did not expect I’d be the one wearing a negligé and panties either while minus my junk. I guess you will have to suffer and suppress those desires you have buried.”
God this girl is quick she is absolutely beautiful lying on my bed. I am now conflicted viewing Andi dressed like I should be. Instead I am wearing flannel pajamas with a head full of confusion.
“So we are still considering your Halloween pass right? It is this in two days you know. You did not give a flat out no, not yet anyway.” Andi nodded while I added another mischievous challenge. “When we go out the door to drive to school in your Beetle you know what mom expects to see you wearing. Has that crossed your tiny brain yet?”
Now the panic sets in, “I thought we could swing by the house and I can change before we go to school.”
I present my best duh expression. “Andréa you have been dying to see what life is like as a girly girl. You even made out with that Troy guy letting him feel you up. Tomorrow you pretend to be me. I’ll present in my Andy Lyons hair and his jeans. Everybody will see you as Jean Phillips the girl. Consider it this way if you are going to play with fire at least we still have a hose. One more trip for you on ladies night out at the Sanctuary you could end up needing a box of tampons. I’m not sure you’d like that. I’m not sure you will be thrilled with nine months of cramps, back aches culminating with an eight to ten pound blob being squeezed out your bottom either. Think about it before you do something stupid.”
Next in Chapter 5 You will hear from three voices, Andrew, Jean and the Narrator
Rights reserved by author
I woke up in strange surroundings looking at the walls in Jean Phillip’s bedroom. A king sized bed which we shared is cornered in a windowless wall. From my vantage point I can see her vanity straight ahead facing a door leading into the hall. A window is next to it adorned with a delicate light blue lace curtain. Her walls are bordered in a similar shade of blue paint. A private bath sits in the far right corner and on the left is a walk in closet. For a poor ‘Parker’ the girl does not have it that bad. My lust for this girl as recent as a few days ago fantasized about sleeping in the same bed. Here I am lying next to her. That alone would have been enough to produce a third leg. A third leg which I no longer have, life can be cruel. A brave man would touch her but not I. I am afraid to discover what I might find. Recent events have brought impossible changes to me.
Those changes both highly desired and feared keep me frozen under the sheet. I watch Jean rushing toward the shower wearing dark blue pajamas yelling, “Beat you,” causing my giggle. It is at that moment I realize how lucky I am to be her friend all lustful ideas are gone. Jean is a girl who I love as a friend. A girl I wish desperately could turn into the old me.
My legs dangle off the bed toes curling against a supple carpet. I am squeezing them into the hooked fabric loops that form an intricate carpet design. A thick pile feels warm against my skin. Wearing Jean’s sleep shirt enjoying a sensual silky envelope, I stare down at my slender fingers musing how feminine tapered nails appear. I muse absently about how delicate nails on fingers and toes need a coat of color. Dare I request to borrow polish from Jean, does the girl posses such a product? I have never seen her nails colored unless you count smudges of grease acquired at her father’s garage.
Finally I hear the water shut off happy to have a chance at a shower myself. I feel rather sticky after a night under a down comforter. When Jean rolled over brushing against my back, especially when her arm flew over my shoulder I felt my temperature rise. Yes, I need a shower and I need to check these breasts forms. Like an idiot I wore them to bed. Jean teased me shamelessly for not removing them. I lacked the courage to tell her I tried but the adhesive remover failed to loosen their vice like grip. It is the same solution I’ve used before when my parents pressed me into one of their schemes. This is the first time the solution failed.
Jean exits the bathroom wearing her Wranglers and tee with brush in her hand. She offers a soft, “It’s all yours Andréa, or should I call you Jean? I may as well we can’t have a slip up at school today.” Without waiting for an answer she begins playing with her hair at the vanity. I grab my skirt, undies and blouse closing the shower door behind me.
The hot water feels great washing away night’s perspiration. I palm my busts which are resistant against yielding. The medical glue holds tight allowing no give at all. The sensitive feel of hot water against the plastic skin presents an odd sensation causing near panic. I swear my nipples have become rigid while areolas are more prominent. Wait until Jean sees these. No, I cringe inward this will remain my secret. When the soapy washcloth is drawn across my shallow depression another sensual arousal flashes causing a tremor. Then the voice returns using a purring sound, ‘My little virgin is nearly primed for tomorrow night. Your boyfriend anxiously awaits you.’
I wanted to scream shut up in my panic while jumping out of the shower. Frantically I toweled off dressing as fast as I could while running to the bedroom. Jean tilted her head in my direction with a smile. She tossed a small bottle filled with pink liquid at me. “I have been saving this you look like you could use it. Don’t forget to blow on your nails to let them dry.”
The mirror startles me as I look into it. Who is this girl staring back at me? Jean is leaning over my shoulder kibitzing, “You make a better me than I do. The problem is when you go back to Andrew they are going to expect I keep up your new look. I don’t think I can handle that. I might just end up hating you Lyons.”
“Jean quit your bitching you might get what you wish for if you use that ticket of mine this weekend. Then you can walk around as a smelly guy living alone in my old apartment dealing with the welfare.” That caused her to blink so I pressed. “Second thoughts huh, being a girl is not so bad.”
She tilted her head offering a wry smile, “It’s fine with me you wear the skirts you like them so much. And Lyons,” she glances down tossing a Lady Gillette at me. “You better shave those legs. I can’t have people whispering the Phillips wench is lax with her grooming. Don’t forget the pits, welcome to girlhood. It is too bad you cannot experience the monthly visitor before it becomes permanent. That will drive you far away.” Her sarcastic cackle almost convinced me I’d made a mistake. Come to think about it what mistake is that? I only snuck into a resort with an invitation. It is not like I engineered these changes.
I sat at the vanity for the next half hour trying to avoid skinning myself. Blood only trickled down my calf once or twice. Jean is having the time of her life grinning. I’ll give her credit not once did she laugh. She did not have to her eyes betrayed delight at my difficulty. I almost said misery but held that in check when I stood seeing my reflection. “Phillips it is worth it, look at these legs.” I twirled in a slow dramatic fashion allowing my skirt to flutter showing off spectacular legs.
Jean shrugged sticking a ball cap on her head. “No shaving, no blowing on my fingers, no raccoon eyes when a princess insults me. No hair showing through my jeans and my pits are covered. I can live with it. Let’s go babe we don’t want to be late.”
I woke up nearly exhausted from a restless nights sleep or lack of sleep. The thought of Andrew Lyons sleeping next to me one week ago would have caused a five alarm fire with me shrieking, “Are you nuts.” at the top of my lungs. I rush toward the shower wearing dark blue pajamas yelling, “Beat you,” giggling at Andi’s expression. It is at that moment I realize how lucky I am to have made peace with my stalker discovering he is a fragile girl. I like Andréa as a friend nothing more than that. If I were a guy Andi is the girl I could go for.
Just as I reached for the shower door handle I noticed Andi. Her legs are dangling off the bed toes curling against the carpet. Wearing my sexy nylon sleep shirt she looks adorable. ‘Oh my God.’ I suddenly see an outline of perky breasts against the fabric. She did not wear a bra and those nipples are rigid almost poking through. Andi looks incredibly sexy. Why is she staring at her nails and how did they get so perfectly shaped? Did she go to a salon? I doubt it. I closed the door promising myself to loan her my year old bottle of polish. I wonder should if I should offer lipstick as well? No I think the nail polish is pushing it far enough. Another thought just crossed my mind that I will keep to myself.
I showered rather quickly toweling off then combed my hair trying my best to flavor it toward the way Andrew has worn it over the year. Satisfied my hair is as close as I can get I throw on a beefy tee and start to pull up my jeans when it hits. The curse is back meaning another bout with the plug and more cleaning. Once my tee is finally tucked into my jeans I exit the shower yelling, “It’s all yours Andréa, or should I call you Jean? I may as well we can’t have a slip up at school today.”
When I enter the bedroom Andi has bundled her clothes under her arms while walking toward the shower. I stare at her oddly dying to ask why she is still wearing those breasts forms. She must really enjoy girly bits. It not like she can feel anything more than their weight. I sit at the vanity hearing that voice one more time. “The little vir—” I cut sharply by blocking my thoughts focusing elsewhere. I don’t want to hear anymore of this crap wherever it is coming from. I am ready when Andi exits the shower.
I stand pointing to the vanity tossing a bottle of nail pick polish liquid at Andi. “I have been saving this you look like you could use it. Don’t forget to blow on your nails to let them dry.” Andi gazes into the mirror as if she is shocked at how beautiful she looks. I peer over her shoulder joking, “You make a better me than I do. The problem is when you go back to being Andrew they are going to expect I keep up your new look. I don’t think I can handle that. I might just end up hating you Lyons.”
Andréa scolds me, “Jean quit your bitching you might get what you wish for if you use that ticket of mine this weekend. Then what, you walk around as a smelly guy living alone in my old apartment dealing with the welfare?” I blinked hearing that and she continued. “Second thoughts huh, being a girl is not so bad.”
I’m not letting my sister get in the last word. Offering a wry smile I quip, “It’s fine with me you wear the skirts you like them so much. And Lyons,” I pick up my razor a Lady Gillette tossing it at Andi. “You better shave those legs. I can’t have people whispering that the Phillips wench is lax on her grooming. Don’t forget the pits, welcome to girlhood. It is too bad you cannot experience the monthly visitor before it becomes permanent.” Then I offered a dramatic cackle to suggest Lyons is missing the point. Yes, a beautiful girl can be at the top of the food chain that does not mean it is a good thing. The higher you get the bigger the target you become. You should not have to guess after reading this far why I’m hiding me.
I watched Andréa at the vanity for the next half hour daintily trying to avoid gashes. Blood only trickled down her calf once or twice. I try not to but cannot avoid grinning. In spite of what Andi may think I did not enjoy her difficulty. My sister has to defend her position so I fired off, “Phillips it is worth it, look at these legs.” She twirled in an exaggerated fashion flaunting her spectacular legs with a sexy skirt swirling around.
With a dismissive shrug I put my ball cap on replying, “No shaving, no blowing on my fingers, no raccoon eyes when a princess insults me. No hair showing through my jeans and my pits are covered. I can live with it. Let’s go babe we don’t want to be late.”
The first hurdle is getting past mom I doubt she will like me wearing this ball cap but I do not want her seeing my hair. Mom is in the kitchen drinking coffee as I grab the door handle, “Jean you should eat breakfast.”
“No time mom we are going to be late. Andréa is too much of a girl she needs to get up at least an hour earlier.”
“Jean that is not very nice to tease your friend like that. Andréa let me get a look at you.” Lyons stops giving me an apologetic look. She shrugs while I look on from the porch. Mom cannot resist, “You look lovely my dear. Promise me you will come home with Jean to have dinner and spend the night.” Andi promised and caught me on the front lawn.
I’m reaching for the passenger door when she grabs me by the arm sticking her keys in my hands. “You are Andrew today did you forget this is your car? No way the guy is letting his chick drive.”
Ouch, I shrug unlocking the door and sliding in. At least I don’t have to adjust anything to operate the vehicle or use the mirrors. “God missy you have that skirt smoothing thing down pat. It’s like you’ve been doing that all your life.” Andréa remains silent throwing a nasty grin in my direction. I am beginning to dread trying to fake my way through the day as Andrew Lyons. It should not be that difficult as he is virtually ignored by everyone. The real issue concerning me is how will Andi pull off being me. The idea she is coming out as a girl, a beautiful one at that is frightening. I have not dressed like she is in four years. They are going to notice. That voice returned, ‘don’t worry bitch she will only give head. The new girl’s cherry will be yours tomorrow.’ I nearly screamed ordering the thing to shut up as my foot hit the brake.
“Christ, Phillips what the hell are you doing?” Andréa demands as her hands splay against the dash. I pull over to the curb while cars behind are honking. I swore I heard a number of obscenities when they passed. “I’m sorry Andi I heard something that scared me are you okay?”
“You heard something like voices in your head? Don’t tell me; please don’t tell me you are hearing voices like I am.”
The fear in her eyes shook me as I threw myself wrapping her into my arms. “What is happening?”
Allow me to introduce myself dear reader I have been silent far to long. You have the author to thank for that. Rather than call upon a professional this writer allows her characters to tell their own stories. To be fair I must inform you I read the prologue taking offense at the author’s disparaging remarks. I will quote her, “The narrator expresses his distaste of being forced to participate by reading this story.” I am sure Sarah will delete this before publishing the story. Yes the writer’s name is Sarah which is a lot prettier than that stupid pseudonym she uses. Never mind as a professional I will do my job without complaining.
There are several points needing to be addressed. One is who are the Renovators and what is the Sanctuary House? The author has spent far too much time developing characters. Yes, yes I know character building in an important feature required in story telling. The problem is when one is dealing with Demons, possessions and violence no one cares about characters. They are merely fodder as in all horror stories they are nothing but grain for the grist mill. The important role of characters in these kinds of stories is they are presented accurately as bimbos being chased around in their underwear by creatures who devour them. Instead the author focuses on building them up so you will like them. That is not suppose to happen it only serves to piss readers off when characters they like get chopped up. Seriously can you believe a teenage girl and a girl wanna be could possibly defeat the forces of evil?
Where were we? Oh yes in the atrium of the Sanctuary house where Yuri Beekman is discussing current business with Helmut Belagosi. Yuri is the supervising Renovator for this area while Belagosi is the man in charge of operations. The Renovators are a team assigned by the Boss to round up Demons during this the season of highest activity. There is still time to explain the high season. Rest assured your narrator is ever vigilant and will describe those reasons when the time is proper.
Sanctuary House is a setup designed to attract demons because it appears to be one of those lovely establishments seen in your typical Hollywood B movie. “Bella please update me on the number of demons your team has captured. This has been a particularly difficult season. The other houses report increased activity with many devious acts committed by the Trickster’s followers. We have been after him for decades. He always manages to slip through our hands.”
The haggard assistant appears to have a strong resemblance to a demon himself. Lowering his brows he appears seemingly happy about his results. “Sir we have eight without success locating the Trickster himself. It is rumored he is in the area targeting some humans for a devious scheme. The word is he plans to give the world another human/demon hybrid.”
“What about your invitations have you had any success in that regard? Often we pull in a sizable number of demons.”
Bella smiles, “Yes sir we picked off five they are awaiting purification in the pens as we speak. The Sanctuary House is set up as a hideaway so to speak offering lavish fantasy getaways. We sent out spam mail invitations knowing the Trickster is an avid hacker. We are aware the demon will check out our buildings finding them ideal for his pranks. As expected his followers descended into trap thinking they will find ready victims. As no real people received an invitation our agents posed as marks. When the demons swept down they were easy prey. There is one exception, a boy named Andrew Lyons received an invitation and he showed up.”
Beekman narrows his brows, “You turned him away I trust.”
“No sir, he never showed a pretty young girl came in his stead. Her name is Andréa Judd. We thought she was one of your agents incognito so we admitted her. It turns out that was Andrew disguised as a girl. The system scans each invitee enhancing their physical attributes. It helps sell our misdirection of a fantasy weekend. Those demons are short on intellect. This trick fools them every time. In young mister Lyons case he is turning into an improved Andréa. The problem is the Trickster never appeared and has disappeared.”
“My dear Bella have you figured out yet this Andrew or Andréa is now a target? I suggest your agents be employed to search the kid out? The child is the Trickster’s perfect target. Need I remind you of his favorite game?”
There is little more your narrator can offer you at this time. The author is insisting I take my leave for now allowing our silly children to fumble their way through. At least we know the Demon hunters are on the job having made a muck of it as usual to this point. You know what happens to the exorcists types in these stories. The demons are only slowed to return again and again while the exorcists are less fortunate. A bit later your professional narrator will explain more of the adventure to you once the author comes to her senses. For now the blood and gore will have to wait as we must learn more about silly teens. We go back to the side of the road where that Jean child is hearing voices.
It took me quite awhile to calm Jean down as the poor girl literally lost it in the car. I can tell you wrapping my arms around a shaken Jean Phillips has been a life long dream. Whoever caused this thanks, you did me a favor. From now on keep your mouth shut. Jean managed to regain control and get us to the school parking lot in one piece. Now she has to get out of the car without freaking. I whisper in her ear, “Remember you are Andrew. Walk with your head down and never, ever make eye contact with anyone. They all hate you. Do you have any advice for me?”
She looks at me with her beautiful emerald eyes. Removing her ball cap she tosses it on the seat. “The nuns are not going to let my hat in the building.” She shakes her head allowing her gunk plastered hair to settle into a reasonable facsimile of what mine usually looks like. Finally, answering my question she quips, “Too late Lyons you already screwed up. Jean Phillips never showed up in this building looking like a starlet before. Every head in school will be measuring you. The guys will walk into lockers and the chicks will be glaring darts at you. The best you can do is keep your head down. When the guys chat you up remember you are prey and they are gaming you for one reason. Have you got it? See you in class and stay close.”
I don’t know what upset me the most, the whistles or the darts. I have to say showing up like this certainly gets attention. The whispers intended just loud enough for me to hear sounded like, “I want a piece of that” and “Is that the ‘Parker?” So now I know why Jean has a permanent bad attitude. I also discovered why my staring at her is so annoying. Now I’m getting the treatment. To whoever made that comment try walking a mile in my shoes. Well sir I get it.
The highlight of the day one that Andrew Lyons dreamed about came at lunch. I’m sitting at the reserved Phillips’ table in the corner when Nathan Brown one of the hunks stops. He smiles flashing his recent dental hygienist effort the white radiating a brilliant light. “Jean care to go to the Halloween dance with me?” I have no time to answer because the faux Andrew plops down next to me in a never before used seat. He leans over kissing me full on the lips and turns to Nathan. “Sorry guy, Jean is my steady, right babe?”
My first reaction is to smack him but I’m interrupted by the crashing sound of Heather’s tray falling to the floor. By then it had suddenly dawned on me a pretty girl needs a protector. Jean can take care of herself but a steady boyfriend keeps the sharks at bay. I kissed the real Jean in return whispering, “Thanks.” That was just in time to catch a warning stare from Sister Igor.
On the way out to the car after school I’m walking with the faux Andrew who is carrying my books. I am beginning to like this gig. Having a boyfriend who jumps at my every need is cool. Being a pretty girl is a good thing. I don’t care what Jean says about spitting out kids. That picture does have a disgusting aura to it but having the kid planted, wow that part sounds way too cool.
I get in the car sitting in the chick’s seat having fun smoothing my skirt making sure a bit more leg shows than should be. Jean gives me that nasty look. “We are a hussy now huh ‘Parker’?” I lean over giving her a kiss. “If it bothers you so much why is your hand on my thigh?” Jean flushes shifting the car into gear.
“Don’t wet your panties ‘Parker’ I though I had the stick shift.”
I cannot resist laughing as the new Andrew pulls into traffic. “Say what you mean, I though I had the stick shift means I wish I have a stiff stick.” That is when she poked me and warned if she had one I’d be in trouble. I have this feeling I am in trouble anyway. The voice returned threatening me with all kinds of mayhem. I am glad Jean’s mom invited me to spend the night. There is no way I could hold out at my house alone. Okay so tonight is not Halloween, it is Cabbage Night which is almost as ugly. I am still kicking my ass for opening that spam mail. Worse yet I am risking Jean’s life with my bullshit. Like a girl I started crying. Jean asked me what is wrong and I said as expected, “Nothing.”
The new Jean and I no sooner entered the hallowed halls going to our lockers when I got my first lesson of life as Andrew Lyons. We had walked to our metal closets. They are across from each other on opposite sides of the hall. I stood there for a moment watching the reaction to the new Jean. God she is truly beautiful. I can see why I refused to parade around looking all girly. The guys were literally tripping over each other trying to get a better look. No one said ‘Parker’ out loud. As I turned to open my locker from the corner I could Dale Simpson coming at me. I knew at once what was coming. It is the old Philadelphia Flyer bully boy’s hip check. Oh yeah what was the guy’s name, Schultz that’s it. The big hairy muscle bound guy was mean as a bull in heat. He comes flying down the hall at full speed his hockey stick high.
I could see in my mind’s eye the poor puck carrier getting smashed against the board falling into a crumpled mass. That happens right after your face is mashed into the glass. Unfortunately for Schultz I side stepped and he hit the locker full speed. The crash echoed through the hall as the locker door caved. Poor Schultz hit the floor bleeding from his nose. He did not lay there for long because Sister Igor is on patrol. She lifted him by the ears. As she dragged him off she is heard saying. “Nice moves Mr. Lyons. I saw the whole thing.”
My partner standing against the other wall is laughing hysterically. She walked over taking my hand and we strolled like dreamers in love to class. None of the teachers said a thing to me accepting the quiet Andrew as the norm. It took away a lot of the pressure. I’m sure sister George must have had a trying day. Every time she turned to catch me staring at Jean I was looking at the chalk board, besides everybody else is staring at jean.
I’m having a hard time not laughing when Lyons dressed up as me is complaining. “I don’t know what upset me the most, the whistles or the darts. I have to say showing up like this certainly gets attention. The whispers intended just loud enough for me to hear sounded like, I want a piece of that” and “Is that the ‘Parker?”
My reaction is to reply, “So now I know why you have a permanent bad attitude.” I quieted after that keeping my mouth shut choosing to not talk about my day as Andrew. We can compare notes later.
The Nathan Brown thing was funny. Andrew pretending he is me is sitting at my reject table when the misguided fellow raises enough courage to say the words. “Jean care to go to the Halloween dance with me?” That little bastard actually stood outside the Warehouse Outlet playing with his crotch offering it to me while I stood on the ladder in the window. Now he is asking who he thinks is me out for a date. It is really you son of a bitch. If you have not figured out by now I am one feisty piece of work this should convince you.
I drop into the seat next to my honey and kiss her right on the lips. “Sorry Nate but Jean here is my steady.” The look in his eyes is priceless. Then I kiss her again which is a mistake because I wet my panties. I will never, ever tell Andrew this; the look on the fake Jean’s face is priceless. It is worth the stare from Sister Igor. I noted Jean’s expression as well. Just like mine it read hunger.
When we got back to the car my view is slightly different than the old Andrew’s. You might say it is beyond weird for me to look at her hem rise revealing those beautiful thighs and feeling wetness in my panties. Especially since in reality I am looking at my own legs. I’ve spent a lifetime looking at, shaving, washing and pampering those legs. How in hell can they be turning me on?
The incident sparking my sexual arousal is when I get in the car sitting in the driver’s seat. Her act of smoothing the skirt making sure a bit more leg shows than should be is obvious. That is exactly what I’d do if I were troweling. Being an instigator I quip, “We are a hussy now huh ‘Parker’?” She leans over giving me a kiss. “If it bothers you so much why is your hand on my thigh?” I flush shifting the car into gear.
“Don’t wet your panties ‘Parker’ I though I had the stick shift.” My reply is lame but I’m on the defensive. The kiss is still on my mind I can’t get enough of those lips and if I could I guarantee you I’d have an erection. The voice from hell suddenly appeared, ‘Don’t let it bother you. Tomorrow she will be yours.’ Again I almost hit the break offering, ‘Fuck you loser.’
My friend Andrew sitting in the chicks seat is going on about the stick shift. I did not hear much of what she said being focused on that voice. I know it is evil and before tomorrow night is over I’m going to have to kick it’s ass. When Andrew as Jean started crying I knew any rational conversation ended so I simply said “No.” I’m not sure what I said no to but you have to remember I’m faking being a guy. We always claim guy’s don’t listen I’m just proving we girls are right.
I sat in my driveway while Andréa fidgets with her skirt passing questioning glances at me. I suppose she wonders why I sit here with a glazed expression. I am staring at my modest sized house. It is a Cape Cod style with two bay windows one on each end. The living room on my left while behind the right bay window is my parent’s room. My bedroom is in the back and I do not have one of those protruding windows. I shrug terrified I am going to lose all of this. True I’ve wanted to be a boy for sometime but as I strain I cannot recall when these thoughts had begun. Andréa broke my concentration, “Jean are we going to sit here or what?”
We ate dinner with mom and dad. I can’t recall what it was as my mind is elsewhere. All day long this intense feeling of gloom hung over me. It is like in those fantasy movies where people can see your aura. If mine were to appear it would show as a black shroud. There is something out there watching us, it is pure evil. Why in the hell, not a good choice of words, am I so calm? It is not fatalism like I know I am going to die or something like that. The calm is from a sense I have that I’m in charge. This voice is pure evil that I know but it can’t hurt me unless I let it. I’m not going to do that. Somehow I am confident I can beat this thing. My gut tells me all these implanted ideas are to establish fear. The entity feeds on fear and if he does not get it he grows weaker. Okay that makes sense so don’t show him how scared shitless I am. Now there is a plan.
Mom tried to recruit us to an evening of chat and television viewing. I’m not into that strategizing is on the menu for tonight. We begged out of it using the excuse of homework. We have a lot of homework which always buys me private time. Andréa and I will hang out in my room. We need to scarf up some threads for Andréa if she is going to play me tomorrow. I am going to work on convincing the girl she needs to wear jeans. I hoped she learned a lesson today about the power of skirts. You have to wield it only at crucial moments. Moments like the times you are troweling.
Andi is simply eating up the compliments from mom and dad. She looked long and hard at me with a shit eating grin when mom suggested she talk me into dressing nicer. I could see dad gulp. He is on my side preferring his girl in jeans. The pressure only comes from one side. Divide and conquer so they say. I have learned to shut off the voice. At least I think I have and I suspect sooner than later I will be testing my theory.
We girls are pressed into service helping mom with cleanup including of course the dishes. Andréa and mom seem to becoming best friends. My observation or imagining of this notion rises a bit of jealousy. Before we escaped to the confines of my room for the dreaded homework I used the time convincing mom Andréa should stay through the weekend. I’m terrified of what will happen to her if she is allowed to stay at her house alone.
It was not a hard sell proving much easier than talking Andréa out of skirts for tomorrow. “Didn’t you get enough leers for one day?”
“Jean I like being a girl even if it isn’t real. Let me milk this for one more day. Tomorrow is Halloween we are supposed to dress up in costume.”
Why do I get the feeling she is trying to take over my life? I do not say any more deciding to go along with it for one more day. After what seemed hours of trashing my closet I finally got her to agree on something. Andréa looked simply smashing in a modest outfit. She accepted my insistence on a heather colored simple pleated wool skirt reaching her knees. The cream colored oxford blouse fit perfectly. She bitched a bit about the white knee socks and black flats. My final comment on the subject settled her. “Andi I know looking good and attention is something you crave. As you found out today we girls are surrounded by assholes and idiots. You have to play defense at all times.”
With that I donned my flannel pajamas and she another sexy sleep shirt. We hugged and then crashed for what hopefully will be a night of blissful sleep.
Next Chapter 6 Andréa: Halloween Not Just Another Day
Rights reserved by author
I roll out of bed noticing my breast forms feel a bit snug. ‘Why in hell did I wear these to bed? That was stupid,’ Jean is staring at me as she sits on the bed wearing her pajamas laughing.
“God what a pussy, you love your tits so much you kept the falsies on all night.” She reaches over placing her hand on my bare leg. Her fingers splay against an exposed thigh caused when my sleep shirt pulled up under me as I sat forward.
‘What is she doing?’ That is my first thought as I jump up rushing to the bathroom. I look down to see what changes occurred overnight. I feel like my nether region is stretched out. I reach down touching my bottom to experience an over sensitive strange tingle. The sensation definitely suggests something is off. My crease is spreading furrowing deeper. My legs shock me appearing smoother curved in a way they should not revealing a far more feminine affect. I step into the shower realizing I left my clothes on the bed. “Jean,” I call unsure if I should do so. “Will you bring in my clothes? I forgot them.” As the water cascades over me I hear the door open. Jean’s fingers are seen over the top of the rod sliding the curtain back. “Jean what are you doing? You are naked. I will be out in a minute.”
“You asked me to bring in your clothes remember,”
I see a glint in her eyes as she steps into the shower. “Why waste water,” she murmurs as she stands there too close for my comfort. “Let me wash your back then you can do mine.”
This is not like Jean at all she is scaring me. I turn to face her with a wary eye. Whack! she kisses me. It is the same kiss we exchanged before that nearly set me on fire. I step back my eyes must have betrayed my shock. Jean maintains her soft gaze as she touches my breasts forms. It sends a shiver through me as I sense a nipple tightening. What the hell is she doing?
“Holy shit,” she exclaims, “You felt that.”
“Of course I did you squeezed my tit.” I started laughing at the sound of my stupid statement.
“Andréa you felt it. I mean there is a definite reaction. Plastic nipples are not supposed to go taut like that. You can’t deny you felt a tingle and it was not from your chest yielding from forms pulling. It was from the cute little button there.”
In horror of her meaning I tried to deny it but the brat continued to kneed my buttons. Now I’m whimpering almost feeling like I am about to explode. I generate a forced rebuttal Jean appeared to take as a denial of what I felt. She keeps it up until my knees feel like they are about to buckle. Jean suddenly slaps my bare butt and laughs. It is like she suddenly came to her senses knowing she is going too far.
“I’m only teasing go ahead and finish your shower. I will get out of here and leave you alone.”
It was over she skips out of the shower sliding the curtain in place like nothing happened. I hear the bathroom door close. Now I’m standing here enjoying the warm water wary as even more tingling is generating from my body. It is almost erotic. Well it is erotic. To make it worse I begin to fantasize over my dream girl in the other room. I hurry knowing Jean has to shower as well and I don’t want to use up her time or all the hot water. I should have let her stay. What is the big deal?
When I enter the bedroom Jean is sitting on the edge of the bed feet dangling covered by only a towel wrapped around her. “It is about time. What happened to your forms?”
“I’m wearing them,” I answered. “You saw them.” She bounces off the bed dropping her towel revealing her perfect rear. She turns to face me which excites the Andy inside. ‘Christ Jean what is happening to you?’ I think.
“You are not wearing your forms, those are real babe,” Jean replied in a teasing voice.
Without waiting for an answer she disappears behind the bathroom door. Now I’m left sitting on the bed wearing nothing but panties and a bra insisting to myself “I am wearing them.” I must have said that out loud because I hear a voice behind a closed door.
“No you’re not.”
I can’t help it I must take these off to convince myself. I know, I’ll throw them at jean when she steps out. That will get her attention. I remove my B-cup bra shocked when I see the label. B-cup I went to bed wearing an A-cup. What is going on? I reach for the glue remover. Yeah glue remover. I’m a guy how do I know what this shit is called? I squeeze the tube along the edges like I did every time before except something isn’t right. Some of the remover is spilled on my left tit and the cold sends shivers through me causing a loud, “eep.” I hear Jean’s voice.
“Quit playing with yourself I will be right out to take care of your need.”
I can hear her laughing as it drowns out my silent screams. These things won’t come off and those nipples are rock hard.
“Holy shit your girls have grown a full size over night. Let me see.” The expression on Jean’s face tells me I’m in trouble. She wastes no time dropping herself onto the bed so close her shoulder presses against mine. I can’t turn my eyes from her she is so beautiful. Again Jean reaches out touching my nipples tracing her fingers against each. She touches first my left then the right slowly, tenderly. I fight to refrain from whimpering I am on fire when she pulls pack.
“Still not dressed Andréa, I don’t blame you a guy has to explore residual effects caused by his magic forms. Are you convinced yet?”
“Jean this is scaring the hell out of me what is going on?”
“I have no idea love but I have to check.”
Again I am shocked I comply as she orders me to stand up. She hooks her fingers one hand on each hip under the band of my panties. In one swift move I feel them fall to the floor. My eyes fix on hers transmitting unspoken words that would have said, “What the fuck are you doing?” She falls to her knees before me staring.
“Jesus you have definite Venus mounds, Christ Andrew what did you do? Don’t answer don’t move.”
Frozen in place her fingers pry into my nether area. The area I refuse to view. Suddenly I’m shaking. My knees begin to crumble when her fingers hit something causing an earthquake. I fall back on the bed as Jean begins to laugh.
“That Sanctuary place did a number on you. Andrew is no more. Andi I have to go there to find out what the hell is going on.”
I interrupt her accusing, “Sure you want to get an appendage to do permanent damage to the new girl.”
Jean interrupts her giggling by confessing, “I’d like nothing better than that. To get you in a family way absolves me of squeezing out rug rats myself. You can do that. I promise to make an honest woman out of you. I do love you. Look at the time,” she suddenly interrupts herself by a convenient shift. “We have to get out of here.”
“Hold on I have finish dressing.” That is when the pile of clothes comes into my view terrifying me. “Jean, how in hell am I going to get away with this? We cannot present as two Jean Phillips at school.” She squeezes my wrist leading me toward the dressing table dropping those frilly clothes next to me.
“Andréa did you forget or did you chicken out? You are Jean and I’m Andrew for today. Remember I want to see if I can get away faking maleness. This is test for tonight at Sanctuary. You my dear girl make yourself pretty I need to put on the finishing touches.”
Jean turns to rummage through her dresser while I sit there staring at my pile. Finally I begin by slipping on a dark silky camisole its sexy fabric excites my girls. Next I cover it by buttoning up a cream colored oxford cloth blouse leaving the top two buttons open. I’ve seen this effect on girls when they allow their camisole to show through. I step into a lacy white half slip again feeling a sensual tremor. I sit quietly watching Jean primp doing something to her hair then return to my task at hand. My skirt, the heather wool pleated knee length skirt is stepped into covering my lacy undergarment. I am almost ready when I brush aside my chestnut bangs placing tiny gold maple leaf earrings then let the hair fall back. “Done,” I squeak while holding back a frightening discovery my ears are pierced.
My girlfriend rushes over to hug me. She stares with an appreciative gaze and I feel as if whatever I’ve done I look good.
I am sitting on the edge of my bed when I feel the mattress move. It is Andréa stirring tied up in the sheets I laugh as she fights with her night shirt knotted around her. She is pulling on her falsies which make me laugh louder. I could not resist my comment that must have sounded rather mean. I could not help myself. “God what a pussy, you love your tits so much you kept the falsies on all night.” I leaned over to reassure her by placing my hand on her bare leg. Something strange came over me as I absently splayed my fingers against her exposed thigh.
Andi appeared rightfully alarmed even I could not explain my out of bounds behavior. It must have freaked her as Andréa ran like a scared deer to the toilet. She is gone like forever I must have really freaked her out. Resolving to present my best manners I waited for her to come out. About ten minutes later I hear her call, “Will you bring in my clothes I forgot them.”
I step off the bed picking up her clothes that mom neatly hung up. I included new packages of panties and a bra. I must confess I am wrapped in a towel having intended to grab a shower but Andi beat me to it. As I pick up the clothes almost reaching the bathroom door the towel falls away. With my hands full I did not bother to pick it up. I never could get the hang of the female towel wrap.
The only way I can get the door open is to push it with my foot. It pops open and I hear Andi freaking out. I slide the curtain back forgetting I am naked to hear, “Jean what are you doing? You are naked I will be out in a minute.”
Shit I did it again, freak out my only friend twice in a half hour. Now she is staring at me like I’m an ax murder Anthony Perkins reincarnated. I drop the school clothes on the stool to see Andi looking upon them like strange objects she has never seen before.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
I shrugged answering, “You asked me to bring in your clothes remember,” I have this strange feeling from somewhere I cannot explain. This compulsion is directing me to do the dumbest thing. It restarts when I open my mouth. “Why waste water,” I say teasingly drawing close to Andi. I sense her tensing so I offer “Let me wash your back then you can do mine.” In a playful mood my fingers gently caress her bare back and she turns. I swear I did not plan this as I kissed her. It was not one of those friendly pecks you give another girl. It is the same kiss we exchanged before that nearly caused a five alarm fire.
I can see her fear as she steps back but again I feel like I am possessed. I reach out to touch her breasts forms not understanding why in hell she is wearing them in the shower. Andi shivers as if she felt the touch and I know you won’t believe it but I can see as plain as day her nipple tightening. “Holy shit,” I yell, “You felt that!” Her response seemed idiotic when she answered.
“Of course I did you squeezed my tit.”
Then she starts that school girl nervous laugh like she is trying to hide abject fear. That fucking annoying voice goes off in my head saying, ‘take her, take her.’ I push it back deep inside wherever it came from. “Andréa you felt it. I mean there is a definite reaction. Plastic nipples are not supposed to go taut like that. You can’t deny it you felt a tingle and it was not on your chest caused by the form pulling. It was from the cute little button there.”
Andréa tried to deny it while I continued to kneed her nipples while that voice emitted a hideous laugh. Andréa is whimpering while I am fighting off an invisible monster. I am beginning to hate myself. I can see her beginning to surrender as the voice eggs me on. ‘Fuck you’ I yell in my head and suddenly pat Andréa’s bare butt laughing. My attempt to break the spell apparently worked because whatever it is shut the fuck up. I did not want to scare her anymore than she is so I chalked my actions up to kidding around. I doubt she believed it I wouldn’t “I’m only teasing go ahead and finish your shower. I will get out of here and leave you alone.”
I stepped out of the shower closing the curtain going back into the bed room. I managed to do the female towel wrap and sat on the bed waiting for Andréa to come out so I can take my shower. Several minutes later she comes out of the bathroom. I ask her about those weird breasts forms. “It’s about time. What happened to your forms?”
“I’m wearing them,” she answered adding “You saw them.”
In response I bounce off the bed and once again my towel drops off. I am always messing this towel tie up. To hell with it, I pick up the towel slipping it under my arm. I reach for the bathroom door as Andréa sits on the edge on the bed wearing nothing but panties and bra. I stare blankly at Andréa as I’m still bothered by her fake tits. “I will try again what happened to your forms? You are not wearing plastic those are real babe.”
Without waiting for an answer I step into the bathroom as I close the door I hear her say.
“I am wearing them.”
Before turning on the water I shout, “No you’re not.” Even with the water running I can hear her sorting her clothes complaining about something. I’m still in one of those moods so I shout.
“Quit playing with yourself I will be right out to take care of your need.” It is yet one more forced comment I did not make by myself.
When I finally finish and walk into the room I cannot believe what I am seeing. “Holy shit those girls of yours grown a full size over night. Let me see.” In total disbelief I sit next to her. I can feel her shoulder pressing against mine. I can’t turn my eyes from her she is so beautiful. Here goes that voice again my head feels like it is going to explode. ‘Touch her, touch her, don’t be a pussy be a man she is begging for you to act.’
My fingers reach toward Andréa who does not move. ‘I told you’ goes off in my head. ‘Shut up!’ I want to scream. Her nipples are so soft so pliable so lovely. I trace each one with my nails and feel Andréa purring. Suddenly an urge to suckle is fought off by my resolution to tell whoever is in my head to fuck off. I am fighting this turmoil while Andréa sits there in a state of confusion still in only panties and bra. She finally speaks
“Jean this is scaring the hell out of me what is going on?”
“I have no idea love but I have to check.”
I pull her to her feet again doing something I have little control over. I hook my fingers one hand on each hip under the band of Andréa’s panties. In one swift move they fall to the floor. My eyes fix on hers with a feeling of lust.
Andréa demands, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Silently I fall to my knees saying. “Jesus you have definite Venus mounds, Christ Andrew what did you do? Don’t answer don’t move.” I touch her nether area as she trembles with fear and anticipation. Once again the voice is strong ordering me to violate my best friend. My fingers touch her clitoris causing a definite sexual tension. ‘Use your tongue’ the voice demands. ‘Go to hell,’ I reply. I gently push Andréa back on the bed and laugh as I fall to the floor. I hear myself say, “That Sanctuary place did a number on you. Andrew is no more and I have to go there to find out what the hell is going on.”
Andréa said something that went right over my head, something about growing an appendage. Is that it? Is this some kind of wicked game an evil entity is playing on us? I will not comply. I am stronger than this. I concentrate real hard sending a message. ‘Okay asshole I know what your game is. Bring it on so I can kick your sorry ass. What nothing to say? As I thought you are nothing but a fucking coward.’ I turn to Andréa again using a soft joking tone. “Still not dressed I don’t blame you a guy has to explore trying out what his magic forms caused. Are you convinced yet?”
I can read Andréa‘s fear in her voice. “Jean this is scaring the hell out of me what is going on?”
Somewhere down deep there are battle lines being drawn and I’m short on holy water crucifixes, garlic and silver bullets. This is the way I react under stress like I did when Jennifer ruined my reputation. My reaction is to pull my shields up. I’m still isolated from everybody. Only recently I took a risk letting Andi into my private safe space. Shaken by my strange behavior I’m imaging voices to deny I’m lusting over a girl. Andréa did nothing for me when she was Andrew Lyons. But now, I have this urgent need to make love to her. This is not me so I manufacture demons to excuse my behavior.
Andréa says something right out of left field like the demon is in her head as he’s in mine. “Sure you want to get an appendage to do permanent damage to the new girl.”
God how little Andréa knows that’s exactly what the entity wants and I have no idea why. I do know that I love Andrew Lyons and he is lost to me forever. There is little doubt Andréa is here permanently. If growing an appendage is what I need to do to love Andrew that is what I must do. “I’d like nothing better than that. To get you in a family way absolves me of squeezing out rug rats myself. You can do that. I promise to make an honest woman out of you. I do love you. Look at the time; we have to get out of here.” I think my wise ass comment fell flat as Andréa changed the subject like she never heard me.
Andréa interrupts “Hold on I have finish dressing. Jean how in hell am I going to get away with this? We cannot present two Jean Phillips at school.”
I squeeze her wrist leading Andréa toward the dressing table dropping those frilly clothes next to her.
“Andréa did you forget or did you chicken out. You are Jean and I’m Andrew for today. Remember I want to see if I can get away faking maleness. This is test for tonight at Sanctuary. You my dear girl make yourself pretty I need to put on the finishing touches.”
I watch Andréa until she claims she is done. I rush over to hug her confused as to which one of us is the girlfriend. I stare at Andréa beholding quite an image. The wool pleated skirt appears heavenly against her skin conservative enough to cover flesh above her knees. It is the school’s legal limit. The cream oxford is perfect to accentuate her appealing breasts.
It was not easy getting out the door without mom spotting my hair do. Andréa laughed her butt off when she saw it after I removed my ball cap in the car. It worked just as it did yesterday. I managed to comb it out making it appear like Andrew’s before his changes. The good news is my A-cups are small enough to hide under this bulky sweater. The Wranglers I’m wearing appear to be the same as Andy’s so everything is cool so far. Andréa shifts into drive pulling out into traffic like a pro. It fascinates me to watch how smoothly she manages the stick. My eyes are focused on those legs. ‘Geeze ’parker’ your legs never looked that good. And those tits God they are amazing.’ I froze on the latter thought. It was not mine I don’t use that word. I catch a glimpse of an evil grin in the rearview mirror. I know that face but the clown does not know I know. He is watching me and I don’t back down.
He is transmitting again telling me in another night Andréa becomes pregnant because I am going to screw her brains out. I simply stare into the mirror flipping him off. “Hey Andréa, do you remember what that Troy asshole looked like?” She passes a glance like I’m crazy then describes the guy in the mirror. I flip him off again concentrating. ‘Gotcha asshole he who shall not be named is fingered. Told ya I get ya. I know one other thing fool. You jokers feed on fear. In case you don’t know I’m laughing at you. Do yourself a favor before all your friends in hell point and laugh. Get lost.’ I look in the mirror to see he is gone. Who the fuck am I kidding I’m scared shitless.
Andréa is beyond quiet as we near the school. “What’s wrong Phillips has the cat got your tongue?” I see her blinking and I know what that means she is deep thought. “Lyons, spill” I command. Instead of answering she pulls to the curb.
“Remember we switched places? Shouldn’t you be driving Andrew’s car? You are pretending to be me.” Andréa gets out of the car walking around to my side. I pop into the driver’s seat as Andrew slides into the passenger’s side. I stifle a giggle watching Andrew smooth Andréa’s skirt. I repeat myself, “Lyons, spill.”
“Jean they are trying to screw us over.”
“Who,” I nearly demand, “Who is trying to screw us over?”
“That Sanctuary house and I know you know that is why you asked about Troy isn’t it?”
Now it is my turn to blink as I rest my fingers on her sexy knee, this time it is not Troy doing it. She has a fantastic knee. “What are you talking about?”
“It is Troy; he came to me in my sleep. He said he is going to seal my fate. He said you will grow a big stick that I will worship and bear his children.”
“Don’t worry about it; it is just a stupid dream. I’ll kick his ass for you if that’s what it takes.” She appeared to settle down though her gaze remains doubtful. Just as we pulled into St. Michaels’ lot I saw more trouble. Dave Bemis is sitting there watching us. Dave is Jennifer’s brother and I can only guess what he wants. “There is your big dick Andréa standing right there.”
I notice Dave Bemis sitting on a bench looking like he wants to say something. I glance to my friend Jean noting her anxiety. She walks around the car wearing her Andrew costume opening the door for me. Good I need the help sliding out avoiding flashing anyone as my skirt wants to lift. Getting my hands in the right place to smooth it is not an easy task. For girls it is a learned trait coming naturally. They have committed this act forever. Lyon’s takes my hand smiling. Okay I know Jean’s name is Phillips but right now she appears to be Lyons. His touch feels great; I could grow to like this. “Don’t worry,” I say, “you can pull off being me. Nobody talks to me ever so being ignored makes this easy.” The new Andrew laughs.
“You my dear girl are in for a shock. That outfit you are wearing will set a record number of erections. As Jean I may have been ignored but babe you have made yourself a prime target. I will stay close. Not that I am such a good guy I’m counting on all the cred little Andrew Lyons is about to receive.”
My first mistake almost happened when I walked straight to Andrew’s locker. Jean being the sharper of the two took my arm and kissed me in the hall. I think everybody for three miles saw that creating quite a stir. I am about to protest when I discovered I am facing the opposite row of lockers. Right there is Jean’s locker on the other side of the hall from mine. “I get it, smooth move.”
I can feel Jean’s hands gently push me forward as she whispers. “Andréa that kiss is more for Lyons than for the most beautiful girl in school known as you. Think what that kiss will do for poor little Andrew’s standing.” I laugh trying to remember her combination as my painted nails twist the dial. I grab a few books sensing every eye in on me. My friend is quickly at my side taking my hand as we walked to class. There is no mistake to all watching the new Andrew Lyons is making a statement.
Every class seemed the same except every eye is on me. There are none of the school princesses in honors classes through more than one of the girls in here is cute. Those cute girls appear horrified that plain quiet shunned Jean Phillips suddenly demolished their cute standing as she flew right by them. Having been a guy all my life I quickly learned what those stares represent. It is not admiration it is envy. Regarding the looks from guys, oh yeah I know what that is about. To tell the truth I love it. I’m sitting back enjoying the power.
Jean is not playing by the rules. Her Andrew persona is sitting next to me in every class. Then in the cafeteria after he walked me down the hall his hand splayed on my hip showing ownership he sits with me at Jean’s private table. I know some of this is my fault. I could have pushed that hand away at any time but I wanted it there. My mind is screaming not nice descriptive words in my head. I don’t care after a life time of being ignored I love the attention even if it is turned upside down.
We no sooner sat down to eat when the shit hit the fan. Lisa Marino and Sally Brockton plunk down their top ten butts at our table. The rule is nobody sits at either of our tables. It is bad enough Andrew’s table is vacant because he is the first to break the rule. I think it was Lisa who spoke but it might have been both of them in unison. I could tell by Jean’s or should I say Lyon’s expression she is stunned as well.
“I am so sorry Jean for how you’ve been treated when all along it was that evil bitch Jennifer.”
We both looked at the girls having no clue. They could read our expressions thankfully clearing up their spontaneous soliloquy.
“You don’t know it’s all over the internet. I bet Jennifer is gone into hiding. Her brother Dave found her diary explaining how she shafted you because she wanted a guy who liked you. She called you the permanent ice virgin. Told how you ran away when O’Riley tried to have sex with you in the back seat. Then he posted pictures of Jennifer giving head to Jerry while Mark is screwing her. There are more pictures showing the guys switched places. Jennifer wrote how she had half the senior class.”
I could see Dave sitting across the room smiling. He waved at me but I looked the other way. Jean in the Andrew persona recovered rather quickly as she said to the girls. “I could have told you Jean would never do those things. Nobody listens to me.”
The day went fairly well thankfully the real Jean was at my side the entire time. She had to bail me out more than few times. As we are walking back to the car Jean can’t resist teasing.
“Andréa how many guys hit on you for dates?”
“Lyons at last count it was a dozen. I’ll tell them the same thing I’m telling you. I cannot date anyone because my boyfriend won’t allow it. He is pretty possessive. That Andrew Lyons has stolen my heart and that’s all there is to it.” What reaction did I get? As we reached the car Jean’s hand presses firmly on my rear. Our lips meet in another passionate kiss. I can hear kids cheering. One voice calls out, “I didn’t know you had balls Lyons”
So I had my doubts we could pull this off for a second day. I really did but we managed once again. Do we have to keep doing this? I know deep down it is going to come to a bad end. My feelings were under control most of the time. That freak of a voice stayed away. I doubt I scared him off. I worry that he may have already caused the damaged he set out to do. For Christ sake, look at Andréa. If she is not a permanent fully functioning girl then none of us are. What about me am I going to grow that ugly appendage? Not if I have anything to say about it. For awhile I thought I wanted to be a guy because of the way these pigs treat us girls. I thought I’d be one of the good guys. I look at Andréa begging they give me the right equipment. At once I realize that it is not what I want. I am Jean Marie Phillips daughter of Luke and Marie Phillips, the best parents in the world. I’m not giving that up for Andréa or the freak in my head.
Before you think I’m going all girly drop that wrong idea. I’m not about to go through nine months of discomfort only to have some blob rip my innards apart. I’m not about to become Andréa’s lover either. I could if Andrew came back, I think. The idea of playing with somebody’s nipples and doing other alien acts does not work for me. Yeah, right now I fucked up and got caught in somebody’s nightmare. They don’t know who they are messing with. I’ve gone through four years of living hell and they could not break me. “Do you hear that asshole? Bring it on you are toast.”
“What did you say?”
It’s the chick in the passenger’s seat the one with the tits and legs to die for. I only have one answer. “Nothing Andréa, nothing at all.”
I rush to my room with Andi following close behind. My hands move rapidly shoving hangers along the bar looking for the outfits Bess gave me. I pull the hangers tossing them onto my bed as Andréa’s eyes widen though she remains silent. I’m aiming for the Dark Star skirt fully understanding irony attached to its name. ‘Are you getting this Troy?’
The skirt slips seductively over my slip and boy shorts. Do I have to tell you boy shorts are panty briefs for girls who object to constantly pulling that irritating thong out of her crack? Back to the skirt, it is made by somebody called Dark Star. It is a black leather skater skirt with a double pointed yoke front and back, plus some chic vertical seaming. The high waisted fit enhances my almost nothing sized middle. I confess I am a size four and feel smug about it. Again my legs look fabulous; they scare me I have not seen them exposed in a long time. By that I mean hanging out there for all to see because my jeans do hide them. It is unsettling to say the least.
One look at my babe self and all the guys go into heat. I reach for one of those nice styled blouses with a sewn in cami. The blouse is an oxford material that buttons halfway down to the waist. The body is pink while the open top reveals a lighter pink underneath. I have to admit it is really nice and goes great with the Borg’s skirt. I slip the blouse over my head after all with only half buttons it is a pull over. Now I have to brush my hair as Andi’s eyes spin in over drive. I ask Andi to toss me a cardigan sweater either black like the skirt or perhaps navy. Sometimes I have a hard time distinguishing between the two.
“What do you need that for,” Andréa questions.
I stand there knowing the vision in the mirror is not one who could possibly sport a tool capable of impregnating my unsuspecting friend who stands next to me. For the first time since forever I feel spectacular. The confidence grows as I roll on a pair of sexy feeling black tights. Andréa is still gawking. “What do I need this outfit for? Battle my dear Andréa. We are fighting a war.”
Next Chapter 7 The Narrator: All Souls or Saints Day
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The narrator of this story has remained silent for too long letting Andi and Jean describe their progression through a tangled web. There is a point when an interested observer must step forward to inform readers about events unknown to our protagonists. The twin sisters born of different mothers may be on a collision course with fate unaware. A good story teller is not going to spill the beans, however sometimes he has to inform or warn the reader outside events plot to trip up our heroines.
It is appropriate to acknowledge those hidden desires belonging to Andrew Lyons may not have been his desires. The same can be said for his twin sister Jean Phillips. They are not twins by birth or even related. The narrator said too much informing readers outside forces are manipulating events. It is appropriate to note the date when Andy attends school presenting as Andréa It is not a coincidence it began the day before Halloween. Let me remind you who the forces of intervention represent.
Making jack-o'-lanterns at Halloween sprung from Samhain and Celtic beliefs. Turnip lanterns, sometimes with faces carved into them, were made on Samhain in the 19th century in parts of Ireland and the Scottish Highlands. As well as being used to light one's way while outside on Samhain night, they may also have been used to represent the spirits and fairies and or to protect oneself and one's home from them. Another legend is that a trickster named Jack decided one day to trick the Devil. He trapped the Devil in a pumpkin parading him around town. Eventually, Jack let the Devil out and the Devil put a curse on Jack forever making him a spirit in hell. On Halloween, Jack is released to terrorize the country all night. To protect themselves, the Irish would place a pumpkin with a face outside to scare Jack into believing it is the Devil.
We of modern times may discount the beliefs of the past. The narrator warns do not take chances on this ghostly night. Because you survive the hallows the next day can be even more threatening. We often forget the night of all souls.
Now for the pagan connection: Nov. 1 marked Samhain, the beginning of the Celtic winter. The Celts lived as early as 2,000 years ago in England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and northern France. Samhain, for whom the feast was named, was the Celtic lord of death, and his name literally meant “summer’s end.” Since winter is the season of cold, darkness and death, the Celts soon made the connection with human death. The eve of Samhain, Oct. 31, was a time of Celtic pagan sacrifice, and Samhain allowed the souls of the dead to return to their earthly homes that evening. Ghosts, witches, goblins, and elves came to harm the people, particularly those who had inflicted harm on them in this life. Cats too were considered sacred because they had once been human beings who had been changed as a punishment for their evil deeds on this earth.
To protect themselves from marauding evil spirits on the eve of Samhain, the people extinguished their hearth fires and the Druids the priests and spiritual teachers of the Belts built a huge new year's bonfire of sacred oak branches. The Druids offered burnt sacrifices, crops, animals, even humans and told fortunes of the coming year by examining the burned remains. People sometimes wore costumes of animal heads and skins. From this new fire, the home hearths were again ignited.
Particular ethnic groups developed their own lore which was merged with the celebration. In Ireland, people held a parade in honor of Muck Olla, a god. They followed a leader dressed in a white robe with a mask from the head of an animal, and begged for food. The Scots walked through fields and villages carrying torches and lit bonfires to ward off witches and other evil spirits. In Wales, every person placed a marked stone in the huge bonfire. If a person's stone could not be found the next morning, he would die within a year.
Besides the Celtic traditions in place, the Roman conquest of Britain in AD 43 brought two other pagan feasts: Feralia was held in late October to honor the dead. Another Autumn festival honored Pomona, the goddess of fruits and trees; probably through this festival, apples became associated with Halloween. Elements of these Roman celebrations were combined with the Celtic Samhain. With the spread of Christianity and the establishment of All Saints Day, some of these pagan customs remained in the English speaking world for All Hallows Eve or Halloween, All Saints Eve, perhaps at first more out of superstition and later, more out of fun. Nevertheless, All Saints Day clearly arose to be a Christian devotion.
Questions abound dear reader they are piling up for this narrator. Did poor Andrew who is hopelessly in love with Jean suddenly change focus by himself to become Jean’s replica? Is it possible an imp or demon lurks in the weeds playing tricks? What of Jean, Do you accept this pretty girl is thrown into denial wishing to be a boy because of one incident? Granted that one incident may be powerful enough to frighten a fragile young woman. Jean Phillips appears anything but fragile. Cause and effect you might say. Manipulate an incident by spiraling it into years of torment and the girl become putty in a jokester’s hands. There might be something to that. We have to consider Jean is simply a tool. Is it Jean becomes the catalysts in Troy’s evil plan? She would be a perfect carrier for the Trickster’s vile stem. A girl who wants to be a boy in the same bed as her new vulnerable love? The follower of Samhain will have two nights to implement his scheme if the narrator is guessing correctly. We will let events guide us to discovery. After all, my instructions are clear. Provide this author’s readers some clues and get out of the way. Few among us can accept a pretty girl longs to be a boy without a demonic influence driving it.
The narrator’s watch follows Yuri Beekman into the Sanctuary office. Yuri is district supervisor assigned to this unit of an organization founded by the Renovators. Every year a number of Sanctuary houses are established to trap spirits intending to harm unsuspecting innocents. The houses spring up at random every October during the early days of the month only to disappear on November 2nd. An organization of benevolent beings is dedicated to trap evil wherever they find it. Over time many have tried but no one has documented their origin. During All Hallows Eve and All Souls Day danger is at its apex. Beekman approaches his unit manager he calls Bela.
“Bella I have discovered your security has been breached as it had last year in Budapest. Do you recall what happened there? Do I need to remind you of the feeding frenzy at the hands of Vlad and his followers?”
The elder man resembling Hollywood’s early vampire looked cross at his boss. “Please I ask you once again sir stop with the Bella reference it is demeaning. My name is Helmut Belagosi. Yes I too am from Rumania there is no similarity with the actor beyond that. What is this about? A breach, there is nothing to indicate in our system a breach occurred.”
Yuri frowns producing a computer print out sheet noting several incidents of tampering. “Last week you allowed a boy to infiltrate using one of the passes issued by our system. He posed as a girl and was allowed full access to the Relaxation area. You remember we spoke of this yesterday? He was assigned a guide who is an evil spirit. The guide went by the name of Troy attempting to seduce his victim he turned into a girl. Yes the evil leader of this demonic clan was here. The jokester is planning irreparable harm as we speak. He has also been planting seeds into the mind of another child this one a female. He must enact his plan in two stages. Tonight is when he prepares his victim to receive his vile seed. Tomorrow he will mutilate his chosen tool to enable her to inject that same seed into the host.”
Helmut responds in a trembling voice, “But sir we had no idea who his victims are.”
“My dear Bella do you forget so soon? The pretty girl named Andréa? His name is Andrew, Andrew Lyons. The feminine persona was created in our own chamber. Troy tormented him for days planting a desire in his mind a compulsion to become a female. The lad took your invitation to Sanctuary house knowing he could create the illusion of an ideal female. Somehow his female presence escaped the planned seduction. I fear the child is in danger. Our agents went to his home but could not locate him. There is no telling what the prankster has in store for the lad. We can guess it will involve serious sexual overtones with devilish results.”
Helmut is at full alert suggesting Troy must be lurking inside our electronic system somewhere “He needs the energy to feed. Should we shut down the systems sir?”
Yuri shakes his head, “No that will release several demons we have trapped. We must search each file trying to locate where Troy is hiding to bleach it. That will secure the trap and hopefully put an end to the evil. His favorite game is impregnation of boys turning them into females carrying his seed. As you know a demon seed once planted cannot be purged. Think Bella, who is it the boy replicated. Who is his ideal female?”
“According to the video captures on file he appears to be a twin to a Miss Jean Phillips.” Helmut smiles as he sees a germ of recognition in his boss’ eyes.
“Of course Bella the Trickster must have them together to enact his plan. Send your agents to the Phillips’ house. Have them watch for the Trickster tonight. The girls are on their way here invited by the evil demon. He intends upon seduce them in our house to prove we are powerless against him. Miss Phillips is his tool. He will find a wary tough Ms. Phillips who appears alerted to danger, she is much more than he knows.”
Bella’s eyes widen surprised by Beekman’s comment. “Sir you explained how the Trickster has implanted desires into the girl to use her as his tool. Yet you say she is wary and likely to present an unplanned surprise. No human has bested this particular demon over the centuries. You dare suggest this teenaged girl presents a problem for him. Sir I mean no disrespect but what you say is rather shocking.”
“My dear Bella when Ms Phillips arrives at our door step please observe how she is dressed. The young woman is defiant showing no fear. The Trickster will have you believe she desires manly features. She has a hunger driving her to posses Miss Lyons. If that is so why then does she appear so feminine? The Trickster’s implant appears to have missed its mark. I might suggest there is more to Ms. Phillips than any of us suspect. My good man make our humble establishment appear less inviting to little girls who are about to reach our doorstep. The Boss for some reason decided the battle should be waged elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere Sir? But we lose the ability to trap the Trickster.”
“I know Bella as you are aware the Boss works in mysterious ways.”
I rode shotgun while Andréa drove to this mysterious Sanctuary House. I expected serious creepy events waiting for us as I watched out the window. My head is pounding with a massive migraine. Nobody had to tell me my boy Troy is busily at work planning his attack. The further we drove the more uncertain I became and the more I wanted to scream get me out of here. I know one thing this freak whoever he is will not go away even if we turn and run. In fact I reasoned the opposite is true this sucker feeds on fear. I will not give him that.
“Jean you are awfully quiet. I might add for somebody who said she wanted to fake being a guy you screwed it up before you even started. Look at you, you are a frigging princess.”
“It’s all part of the plan. Have you got any heat in this car? It is freezing in here?” Before she could answer the voice interrupted. ‘It is only my presence you feel my future young man. Did you think wearing a skirt would change anything? Those legs you tease me with only serve to drive my desire to screw you both. Two little bitches impregnated with my seed. One becomes my eternal concubine while the other raises my seed. Ha, Ha, Ha you will be begging for me to split you’re tight pussy. You know you cannot run.’
One would think I’d be terrified with that shit going on in my head. I dare say you’d be right but I’m wise to this fake. At least I tell myself this. It is what keeps me going. Otherwise I’d be on my knees begging which feeds his frenzy. Go ahead kill me that’s what it will take. Fuck it you will not control me. I don’t tell him that instead he gets this. ‘Right asshole, if you could do that you would have done it. But you can’t because you are impotent nothing more than a eunuch who gets off via voyeurism.’ I hear this bloody scream splitting my head. I swear it felt like my head is going to explode. Nobody accused me of being bright. ‘It looks like I hit a nerve so fuck off asshole.’ Silence, total silence until Andréa spoke.
“Jean Sanctuary House is up ahead. We are here but the place is not right.” I am tuned to Andréa’s vibes as she points to a dilapidated run down scary version of the Bates Hotel. We get out of the car to stare at the two story old house all boarded up. The mists are swirling all around us refracting light from a full moon. It presents the perfect Halloween night. I feel Andréa grip my arm tight. Windows busted out more broken than whole. The porch roof is angled as if it is about to collapse. I sense Andréa’s about to freak out so I take her hand. “It looks like they went out of business. Come on lets go home. It is getting dark and nasty out here.”
“You don’t believe me do you Jean? You think I made all this up. You must think I am some kind of weirdo. How can you be so unflappable? Do you know something I do not? I have this strange feeling something evil is about and you know it. Don’t you?”
Andréa nails it she is not as clueless as I thought. I am fighting like hell trying to keep it together and I don’t need Andréa going off the deep end. I have to keep it at bay. I don’t say anything beyond a reassurance from by squeezing hand. I follow Andréa to back to the car settling into the passenger’s seat.
“Jean do you want to drive, I’m rather shaky.”
“No I don’t trust myself it feels like there is a war going on in my head, migraine.” My tormentor is silent as well perhaps that scream gave him a migraine too, I certainly hope so. I should be scared but I’m not. Call me stupid but you’d be more accurate if you called me pissed off. I am fed up with this torment by assholes. I’ve been ignored, dissed and treated like shit for the last four years. I’ve drawn a line in the sand. We read almost daily some kid killed himself because of bullying. The endless tormenting drives them suicidal. This is the point I’m at. Not suicidal, fed up choosing to fight rather than submit to yet another bully. Like it says on New Hampshire’s license plate, Live free or die. This is the place I’m at. It may not be the right move but if it is a fight bring it on sucker. We arrive back to the house where I make Andréa swear she is spending the night. I have a feeling it will be a long one.
Andréa sits nervously at the vanity she just exited the shower wearing a flimsy silk light night shirt. I said silk like, because neither of us can afford silk. She’s focusing upon the mirror playing with her hair speaking with a nervous voice. “Jean are you sure you believe me about that Sanctuary House? I feel like such a fool.”
I walk over to her offering a reassuring hug. My thoughts are troubled as events of the past few weeks pop in my head. I am hugging a very pretty girl who less than a week ago was a boy who lusted after me. To raise the ridiculous meter the girl is now my twin. I stroke Andréa’s hair gently when the sound hits. A grandfather clock bongs announcing midnight. It is unsettling because we do not own one of those clocks. Then I see him, the Trickster is in the mirror. Andréa obviously does not, thank you sweet Jesus. I pretend I do not see him deflating his attempt to shock, terrorize or whatever the freak’s intention may be. I only know I’m not getting much sleep tonight.
Andréa no sooner settled into bed reaching for the light switch when I felt my feet glued to the floor. I cannot move. My eyes shift to the mirror seeing his smiling face. There is an aura about him best described as what you see in old photographs. The oval shaped ones where there is a soft rounded edge to them. It is that rounded edge presenting a red glow encompassing his body drawing my attention. It is like he has his shields up defending a Romulan attack. He catches my stare and points to Andréa. I see her levitating a few inches above the bed. He directs with his fingers causing her shirt to fly away. He beckons as if he is motioning come here. My sister floats into the mirror its glass rippling as water. My attempt to step forward is prevented by the goo.
His next move is rather swift a sleeping Andréa settles onto the bed inside the mirror. My eyes shift to the room noting she is not on our bed. The mirror is not a reflection. Andréa is naked lying on a sheet with her legs splayed cuffed to bed posts. Troy leans in close flicking her breasts with his tongue there is a definite deepening color in his aura. Sexually sated he turns facing me, His lips moist with a white casts, ‘Milk, not possible.’ Anything is possible in this insane world. It is not a dream, I’m wide awake. Now he is beckoning me, shit I’m at bat.
I’m not floating exactly; I’m upright gliding drawing ever closer. Troy’s face is twisted as I notice his aura grows lighter. Is it because I’m laughing at him? I wonder determining I need to test this and do so rather quickly. Liquid glass is getting near almost at once the ripples yield covering me with a goo like substance, think spiderweb as I’m drawn into the other side. My feet settle on the floor several paces from him. Andréa, still sleeping is to my left, the freak in front of me. I am so ridiculously calm he appears to be coming undone, now for my test.
His aura fades a bit as he snaps his fingers causing my pajamas exploding from my body. I expected this allowing me to conceal any reaction. The aura lightens some more. His voice reveals his agitation. “On your knees bitch, bow to your master.”
Here we go again. His fixation on this master crap grows tiring. You did get it when I said I’ve had it with his childish behavior? I send him my greetings, ‘Fuck you asshole.’ Nothing, ‘are you deaf as well as retarded? I said buzz off.’ Still nothing confirming my suspicion he cannot read my thoughts. Is it due to his crumbling shields or because it takes too much energy to present in high definition?
Troy displays pure anger flicking his fingers causing an unwelcome feeling. I glance down watching a freaking penis beginning to form. “Cute freak what is your next magical trick? Now that I have what you lack you really should kneel before me.” I laugh at his growing rage he is expending all his energy.
“You will do my bidding you stupid girl. Know your place on your knees and beg my mercy.”
I notice he is keeping his distance as I step toward him he moves back. “Kneel bitch, I command you.”
This time I laugh shaking my head pushing his buttons. I need to try one more thing, it might be a very stupid move it is one I must take. I’ve noticed my penis has grown quite large and erect. As it becomes more profound his aura strengthens. It is fear from his victims and sexual responses that feed his energy. I need to redirect that. Again he commands, “On your knees surrender to your master.”
I concentrate knowing he can’t force the issue or he would have. Just like he cannot rape Andréa he needs me to do that. The little bastard is impotent as I guessed earlier. I concentrate focusing forcing my erection to shrivel. His aura responds in kind. “Big boy what is the matter you can’t get it up? You need to grow a pair.”
Wrong thing to say I can see it coming. My dodge is not quick enough but it saved me from the brunt. His hand flew forward striking my hip hard sending me flying against the wall. It hurt like hell. I smell something smoldering and see a scorch mark on my hip. Picking myself off the floor spewing several “Fuck you” comments I noticed something. His right hand is missing replaced by a burning stub hanging there. My secret weapon works. Does that idiot know his hand is gone?
“Your punishment will be to reside in hell as my concubine you stupid bitch. You dishonored your master.”
His aura has nearly disappeared. I will give him credit he is focused on his need. That works in my favor as I try to draw closer. The closer the better a couple more burned off appendages is what I need. Assuming I can survive the blows.
“Cut the crap asshole what do you want? You are beginning to bore me. If you need a favor due to your impotence then ask. We both know you can’t get it up so cut the concubine crap. I’m not impressed. Be nice or buzz off.”
The expression on his face is priceless. I’m betting I am the first crazy teenaged bitch he’s encountered. Troy’s shields are fading he must feel the pressure. I suspect he is becoming desperate. “You will impregnate that slut and you will do it know. Then I will release you.”
“Is that all, do I get to keep this weapon?” I stroke myself for effect to see his aura start to pick up. Wrong move I need to get him closer. “Bring her over here I’ll need your help.” He shakes his head, “You go to her. Kneel between her legs and drive with force.”
I find myself between Andréa’s legs my erection pointed at her prize. I need to get this asshole closer. I have to contain my rage. I suddenly discovered rage emits the same vibes as fear. The last thing I need is for this creep to gain energy. He is nothing more than a perverted voyeur. I must draw him closer. “Hey come here you need to see this. She is leaking.”
Cautiously he draws near to view his sexual voyeurism. He is not going to get what he needs. ‘Closer just a bit more, that’s it another step. That’s it!’ He is hovering over my shoulder staring at Andréa’s slit eyes wide and excited. I can see his meter starting to perk. ‘It’s now or never, here goes.’ I turn quickly diving into him wrapping my arms around his chest. My lips meet his. I want to puke. He strikes out smashing at my cheek I go flying as I see a Roman candle exploding upward followed by a piercing scream and I black out.
This is very upsetting for your narrator not being able to intercede on behalf of those poor girls. As you are well aware dear readers narrators are bound by literary rules to report only. Perhaps our ghost busters at this strange Sanctuary House can be of help.
“Bella you are going to have to follow up to see what damage has been done. Our agents report Troy has vanished likely back to the fiery pit from where he came, until next year. He is with his lord celebrating a victory. I fear we must monitor these girls placing them under a demon watch.”
“My dear Mr. Beckman shall we close down the Sanctuary now?
“No, no we must stay through the second of the month. We still have one night of activity to ward off. You are on call to go to the girl Dr. Belagosi. Do you like your new title? It will serve you well in the first hours of the morning. Check everything and bring her here if you find any sign of penetration. The Trickster enjoys his game wanting his victims to tremble with anticipation. He gets his kicks when they beg. At least the demon has fled for now to revel in his victory of planting his seed. Your agents arrived as the Trickster acted earlier than he normally does. As you said he infiltrated our system and must have been warned. We can’t have another of those human hybrids appearing on the scene now can we?”
Belagosi is seen picking up his little black bag produced out of thin air. He sits by the phone as if expecting a call. Beekman is giving orders to an agent dressed in black with no visible features. “You may have to complete a massive mind spell if the Trickster’s adjustments held. That means enacting a wide records sweep. This must be a clean operation. I’m happy to hear no other disruptions are successful in the district. It is amazing how stupid these demons are. They keep falling for the same tricks over and over again.”
Beckman escorts the agent to the next room then returns to sit next to Belagosi. “Helmut you look tired. One more day and we can rest. Have you ever thought about retirement?”
“Many times Yuri. Do you remember when we brought down Vlad the Impaler? That hybrid was particularly troublesome. The idiot actually thought he was a vampire until he ran into a real one. Ah those were the days when we were on patrol with nothing but holy water and stakes. As you must recall our tools were crude and far messier than silver bullets. At least now fighting demons with high tech tools we can relax. These freaks are as you said so stupid our tasks have become easier. There is almost no challenge to it, well until one manages to slip out like our boy Troy.”
“I know what you mean Bela.” Yuri laughs at his tease. “Lighten up old man you do look like the actor. As I said our boy Troy is a real sex freak. He likes turning boys into girls getting them pregnant. He then removes the spell that convinced them they wanted to become female. With the spell gone the new pregnant girls rage against what happened to them. Troy usually goes after the most homophobic types he can find. Their rage provides considerable fuel for him. The victims go insane blaming the Boss. They come unglued after the third or fourth abortion attempt. As you, are aware the little demon inside keeps coming back. You can’t abort a demon. The spawn makes the best serial killers. The worst of the lot were given to humans via this method. That is because they are demons. We don’t have to worry about Troy for another year. Because as you, know they all come back.”
Helmut hugs Yuri smiling, “Don’t let that bother you it is called job security. Well I guess I have to wait for the phone call.”
Finally, the Narrator can take a back seat allowing our heroes to tell their own story. I should not complain about how taxing this sorry tale has been. It could be worse the author might have produced an audio book. If you have never done one of those don’t even try. Not only must you read every syllable you have to provide appealing voices for each character. There are simply too many female expressions included here. Female voices are the worst for me to render. At least my time here is almost done.
Hold that thought a minute the author informs me I am not finished until the chapter ends. At least the writer did not insult your intelligence with the usual characters. You know who I mean. When the little fruit comes out admitting he is a girl the parents either go off the deep end persecuting the kid or they are so supportive nobody believes it. Sometimes a writer offers up the intersexed kid who is part girl already. At least we do not suffer that overdone theme. Have you noticed all converts willing or not become pretty girls? That is all well and good. Please just once present us a poor soul wanting the gentler side to turn out as a heifer often seen at the Target store.
Please consider parents who want to make their boy into a girl do you realize the fallout? Think about it, if a parent takes the kid hiking and gets mud on him CPS charges them with child abuse. I imagine they’d go ballistic when a parent forces a sex change. I digress; if I don’t shut up I won’t get to the end of the chapter and get out of here.
Hopefully, setting this scene will be the end of a narrator’s work. The unfortunate protagonists can tell their own stories. Inside the Phillips’ bedroom where Luke, Jean’s father rushed in with his fully loaded semi automatic weapon to view chaos. He awoke upon hearing the girl’s screams following an explosion. The narrator is a pacifist knowing nothing about guns. So I cannot describe the weapon beyond it being a semi automatic. That is all the information the writer provided me. Hard on his heals Marie is seen rushing into the room. Her name is a lapse in the story as no one reported Mrs. Phillips’ first name. For the record it is Marie. In the name of full disclosure Jean’s middle name is Marie after her mother. Nothing has been disclosed to suggest Andrew or Andréa’s middle name. At second thought perhaps it was mentioned somewhere. If your narrator missed that simply chalk it up to a bored reporter trying to extend the chapter.
Luke rushes to his daughter’s side there is a large bruise on her cheek as if she were struck hard. “Jean, Jean are you okay? What happened?”
She cannot answer from her unconsciousness state. Luke is holding her not noticing Andréa crawling on the floor the girl is naked. Marie rushes to her quickly wrapping Andréa in a sheet. The girl is whimpering something sounding as if she is begging. “Please master complete me.”
Marie’s gentle grasp caresses the girl using her fingers to trace Andréa’s cheek. “You are safe child there is no one other than Luke, Jean and I.” Mrs. Phillips can feel the girl’s temperature rising she calls to her husband. “Help me get her to bed. Is Jean okay?”
Luke turns nodding managing only a terrified, “She is sleeping but something hit her though there is nothing here. The room was empty when I arrived and no one appeared in the hall. I would have seen him.”
He lifted Andréa as if she weighed nothing placing her on the bed next to Jean. She is burning up and her mumblings make no sense. “What is this make me complete crap? I need to call the doctor at first light.” A strange thought enters Luke’s mind. It is the phone number of Doctor Belagosi.
Marie sits by the bed bathing Andréa’s brow with a wet wash cloth. “If her fever continues to rise you may have to help me put her in a tub of water.”
Luke nods worried his touching a naked girl not his daughter may be wrong. He views the beautiful girl dismissing those thoughts realizing there would be nothing improper. It might be necessary to save a life and Marie will be at his side.
Marie suddenly points to the ceiling as the rising sun is showing through a hole in the roof. “My God, Luke look up!”
Exactly above the head of the bed is a hole the size of a basketball. The broken boards and roofing slate are pointing inward as if a force struck hard. Luke’s eyes are wide as he stares demanding answers. There is nothing on the floor or bed to reveal what struck his daughter. Jean is still not awake. Luke turns to walk into his bedroom where he dials a number. Finally, your narrator can bid you adieu.
Next Chapter 8 Belagosi to the Rescue
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For what it's worth here are the final two chapters. I see no point in prolonging this any further. Chapters eight and nine are each similar in length to the previous insertions. You can tell by now this is an effort to poke fun at the Demonhorror genre. My intent was to create a strong female character who is the anti victim. A young woman who said enough is enough I am taking a stand and will not be intimidated. As I've said many times I try to take a different course with my stories. To those of you who followed this effort I hope you enjoyed it as it was fun to write. The ideas have once again dried up and it may be awhile before the muse returns if she ever does. Thank you, Essarr.
“Dr. Belagosi I understand you are Andréa Lyon’s doctor?”
“Yes, yes, is something wrong with little Andréa?” Belagosi smiles having expected this call quite happy Beekman managed to plant the suggestion. “What can I do for you Mister?”
“Phillips, Luke Phillips doctor, she is burning up with fever and delirious speaking in riddles. The girl appears to be in a trance like she is possessed. My daughter is sleeping soundly seemingly not to have heard any of the commotion. We have a hole is the roof without debris. My daughter appears to have been struck but no evidence by what. Should we bring them to your office or the emergency room?”
“Mr. Phillips it is my experience the emergency room is useless in cases such as this. What is your address? I will be right there.” ‘In the old days I’d just evaporate in and no one would question. The world is filled with non believers. It sounds as the Trickster molested the other girl as well. I best be on my way.’ “I’m leaving my office as we speak Mr. Phillips.”
Luke thanks the doctor surprised Andréa has a physician who makes house calls. He turns to his wife, “Marie how is her fever?”
“The same I am growing concerned I cannot wake Jean.” The woman has been tending to Andréa quickly shifting her effort attempting Jean’s arousal. The child will not wake and Andréa continues her whining. This is unsettling to the woman who has never seen anything like this. Her efforts are interrupted by a ringing doorbell.
Luke opens the door to see a startling figure. The man is well over six feet in height standing with a bent. He holds a black bag seemingly too heavy for his weak appearing frame. He is so thin Luke almost believes he can see through him. Even though Dr. Belagosi sports a deep tan his goatee and black widow’s peak presents an unsettling sight. When the man speaks he reinforces Luke’s concern. A strong eastern European accent sends chills up Phillips’ spine.
Without a word beyond a simple greeting, Belagosi steps inside. “Where is my patient? I understand your daughter is suffering as well. Quick lead me to them my good man. What you presented on the phone causes my urgency. There is not a moment to spare.”
Luke sensing fear like he has never felt before rushes to the bedroom. Belagosi waste, no time ushering the parents out of the room. “I will advise you when I complete my exam of both girls.”
Now alone he kneels down beside Andréa who is again out of bed appears to be searching for something. On all fours the girl mutters in a begging voice, “Master?”
Belagosi nods, “Yes daughter what is it you need?”
Andréa rocks back on her haunches appearing as a puppy who is looking for a treat. Her fingers reach toward the doctor attempting to unzip his fly. “I require your seed first to taste the wonderful delicate flavor then to urge your stem to complete my womanhood.”
Belagosi smiles understanding at once the child was not violated by the Trickster. ‘He was plying the boy readying him for conversion, conversion through Jean? Yes that is it. His game was to destroy two lives. I am in time but how much can I undo?’ The doctor guides the girl to the bed where she quickly lies down spreading her legs in anticipation. Belagosi grins, ‘in the old days this would have been temptation.’ He bends to her using a head lamp shinning the light to her nether region. ‘Ah she is a virgin as I hoped.’ Belagosi quickly with gentle fingers spreads oil like substance onto her vagina and then applies the same to her forehead. “Sleep my child for a moment or two.”
Looking down at Jean he frowns, “It has begun she is growing the tool of the Trickster. Yuri is correct the demon Troy would use this delicate girl to impregnate her friend with his vile seed.” Bela shakes his head in thought, “First things first,” he mutters to himself. “The tool must die it is good she sleeps deeply as the fire can be painful.” His voice remains soft so as not to be heard. Once again, Belagosi searches through his bag to produce a small vial containing holy water concentrated by the Boss himself. As the liquid saturates her extended clitoris a stench commands the room to be followed by a haunting evil scream heard only by Belagosi. A plum of green vapor ascends through the hole in the ceiling. Jean begins to stir. The doctor places a palm on her forehead quieting her. The girl settles back into an easy sleep.
He can hear nervous pacing from the hall outside. Parents bursting into the room cannot be allowed. The doctor knows he must speak with them to ease their fears. He steps out side taking care to close the door behind. Both faces exude fear.
“Mr. and Mrs. Phillips may we speak over a cup of tea? I can offer hopeful news.” Marie and Luke display faces of relief as Mrs. Phillips rushes to the teapot. Luke and the doctor follow to the kitchen table.
Doctor Belagosi sips slowly measuring what he can see in the parent’s eyes. “Yes it was as I expected an intruder did enter the room through the roof.” Their expressions signal rising alarm. Before either can speak Belagosi continues holding out a large rock. “It is this, a piece of a meteor that hit your roof and struck Jean on her cheek. The doctor opens his bag producing an electronic meter holding it against the rock. A needle swings wildly settling barely above the lower left hand corner of the digital window.
“You see it contains a low level of radioactivity. High enough to cause a fever when directly exposed over a period of time. Say a few minutes, don’t worry it has lost its effectiveness. The shock when it struck your daughter knocked her unconscious. She should wake shortly and may be a bit confused. That will pass quickly. I have another question.”
Marie blinked, “They will be alright? Excuse me doctor I am very concerned. What is it you wish to inquire about?”
“It is your daughter Jean has she been confused lately acting strange in any way?”
Marie nods, “Yes now that you bring it up. Yesterday she seemed distracted. Her friend Andréa brought her home the night before. Andréa spent the night something that is unusual because Jean never brings friends home. Well not in the last three years. Or is it four?” She deflected to her husband without waiting for a response. “It does not matter we were glad to see she finally made a friend. Have you noticed how much the girls look alike? They could be related. At any rate when they arrived home from school she ran to her room to change her clothes.”
Belagosi blinked, “My dear woman there is nothing odd about that she is female. Girls do that all the time.”
Marie shakes her head engaging Belagosi with a knowing smile. “Not my daughter, she wears nothing but jeans and tee shirts. The girl spent four years denying she is a girl. I will say I had no idea how beautiful she is. Jean appeared dressed in a lovely skirt, blouse and hose. She presented as if she were going on a date. She flatly refused to explain herself. When pressed she made the strangest comment while glancing to Andréa. Battle my dear Andréa. We are fighting a war.”
Belagosi listens without comment. It is all clear to him now. That weekend with Troy somehow warned the girl he is dangerous. The Trickster buried within Jean’s psyche somehow became unmasked. ‘This delicate appearing girl became aware of the Trickster’s presence. She was openly attacking him not backing down. This must have set our demon into a frenzy explaining her bruises. I need to talk to this girl.’ Sensing the girls are safe and Jean fought a courageous battle Belagosi smiled. “Thank you Marie, may I call you Marie? I assure you the girls are not related. I have cared for Andréa since elementary school.” He lied knowing he must.
“I shall be done with your girls in a few minutes. Andréa’s fever is breaking. I expect it will run its course shortly. Jean should wake before I go. I must request you allow Andréa to spend a few more days with you. I know it is an imposition but I do not like the girl living alone. If not I must insist she come with me as my wife will care for her. Keep both girls home from school today. I will stop by St. Michaels to give Sister Karla a medical document excusing the girls. We can’t have the school being concerned over their best students. I will relieve you of that burden. You can call the school announcing my immediate arrival once I take my leave. In the meantime please wait right here while I make a final check on Andréa and Jean.”
Both parents stand offering their agreement watching the doctor walk into the bedroom and close the door. “He is a strange duck, Marie.”
“I know dear but something tells me he is a God send.” She pours another cup of tea for Luke then sits back with a hopeful expression.
Belagosi enters the bedroom to view Andréa sleeping soundly. His touch confirms her fever has broken. He turns to Jean studying her bruise. ‘Yes, the Trickster struck her hard. I see she has another wound on her hip. It looks like a bruise from a fist. Hmm she got to our boy. I wonder,’ he allows that though to drop. “Jean, wake up my child.” Belagosi’s voice is gentle barely a whisper likely not loud enough to be heard.
A soft voice inside my head inside my head is trying to wake me. The bastard is back. No it is a different voice, a gentle one addressing me as child. I sit up eyes wide open my hand touches my cheek. “Ouch that sucker packs a wallop. Who are you and what are you doing in my room?”
“I am Dr. Belagosi sent here to heal Andréa’s wounds and to check on you as well. I heard you went to war. I detect only minor injuries you should be fine in a few days.”
I pass a wary eye at Belagosi. “Doctor huh. I suspect you are the guy Andréa told me about from that Sanctuary house. What was it she called you? Oh yeah Bella like the vampire. Cut the shit you are no doctor. Tell me you are in league with Troy and I’ll kick your ass too.”
Belagosi is taken back never encountering the likes of Jean Phillips before. The usual half truths and fictions are not going to work here. “I suspect there is more to Jean Phillips than meets the eye. Do you happen to work on the side going by the name Buffy?”
Jean laughs, “No I’m real not some TV character.”
“My dear she is a TV character but take my word for it there are real Buffys out there.”
My wary eye regards Belagosi, “After the last few days I won’t argue what you claim. So this clown known as Troy pissed me off and I am not going to take his shit and I let him have it. I take it he turned tail and ran?”
“My dear girl words like, pissed and shit are unbecoming.”
I cut him off, “Maybe but it is all jerks like him understand. You know they feed on fear. Laughing in their face, drives them nuts they can’t handle it. I think poor Troy knew at some point he was in over his head. My last trick sent him through the roof literally. You should have seen the sucker turn into a ball of flame and shot off like a Roman candle. That holy water is serious shit.”
Belagosi is laughing, “Yes it can be but how could you use holy water in a dream? You know that is impossible.”
I stifle my giggles “That’s what Troy must have thought. It is exactly why the coward conducts his assaults through dreams. At least Dracula had the balls to show up in person. Enough small talk I need some answers and spare me the bull. Anyway this schmuck had been planting ideas in my head for some time. Ideas I knew were not mine. A lot of kids are fucked up but not me. I know who I am. I knew these ideas came from somewhere else. Then at one point I really tried to focus on ideas as they formed. I concentrated not on the idea but upon its source. There he was the blue eyed perfect complexion Hollywood soap opera lover boy. What a fraud.”
Belagosi interrupts her, “You really did see him!”
“Right you think I’m making this up? I know I can’t bring physical things into a dream. I knew that is how he planned on making his final strike. What did he think I am some bimbo? Two clues he missed, one I’m not a blond. Two my name is not Brittany or Heather or anything fitting that profile. I realized silver bullets ain’t gonna work. Garlic might but he is not a vampire. That left holy water. You know St Michaels is a catholic school? Did you know the nuns try selling bottles of holy water to the kids? In my four years they never sold a single bottle. You should have seen the look on Sister Agnes’ face when I bought three cases. It blew my allowance for a month. Seventy-two bottles goes a long way toward filling a bath tub. So Andi finally goes to sleep. I thought she’d never shut up and drift off. I soaked in the tub. I definitely reeked of holy water.”
I watch Belagosi searching for his reaction. He is having a hard time trying not to laugh. He offers a plea for me to satisfy his obvious curiosity. “Go on we may be able to use this trick ourselves.”
“I finally go to sleep and there he is standing there in his birthday suit looking handsome ordering me to kneel down. Andi is laying stark naked legs tied to a post spread wide apart. It does not take a rocket scientist to know where this is going. So the bozo, you did notice he is blond, easy target. He starts in with this call me master shit. I said something like fuck off. He takes a swing at me to display his manly superiority. It hurt like hell caught me on the hip as I ducked out of the way. I noticed when he hit me a flame appeared on his hand. I thought holy shit the holy water works. He could not use that hand once it burned off but he is still mister macho. He’s thinking I’m too scared to notice. Every time I leaned toward him he backed off. That told this little black duck something he did not want me to know. Holy water to him is like Kryptonite.”
“I’m trying to work out a way to use the weapon I have. Troy here is promising me the moon if I take care of Andi. Take care of as in knocking her up with the big penis he promises I can keep. Yeah, he has been working on convincing me I want to be a guy. I am one step ahead of him on that. My answer was Andi is my friend I love Andi and will die before hurting her. That pissed him off he ordered me one more time to kneel and call him master. I said kiss my ass jerk. That is when he set his other hand on fire and my cheek hurt like hell. It is also when I figured it out. I leaped right at him and hugged him. Wrapped him tight in my arms and the fucker blew up. I literally set his hair on fire. It was a beautiful sight seeing that missile blowing through the roof. He emulated a Roman candle on the fourth of July. I just hope dad isn’t pissed about the repair bill.”
Belagosi hugs me “My dear girl you are blessed. It has been a pleasure meeting you. My people will be impressed when they hear.”
“Doc you are not getting away without answering my questions.”
“Stop by the Sanctuary House tomorrow and bring Andréa with you. We can talk.”
“Before you split, what about Andrew is he stuck as Andréa?”
“Stop by the Sanctuary House tomorrow and bring Andréa with you. We can talk.”
“Stop by the Sanctuary House tomorrow and bring Andréa with you. We can talk.” Those words buzzed inside my head all day. Well what was left of my day. By the time Doctor Belagosi left it was two pm. He woke me up right after arriving probing me for hours. I thought my so called battle waged throughout the night was simply a dream. Dream hell, nightmare is more like it. Belagosi convinced me it is real enough. I only needed to see the bruises on my cheek and hip to realize I fought something. If bruises are not enough a glance at the ceiling viewing a bowling ball size hole should affirm Belagosi’s story.
I’m trying to collect my thoughts this mythical bullshit has gone on long enough. I’m a control freak who does not like it when things feel as if they are slipping away. This perpetual fog must come to an end. What time is it now? I break from my musings to glance at my watch which reads seven pm. I missed school today, the first of November which I hate doing. It is just possible Pedro gained a point or two during my absence. According to the Doctor; well he is not a doctor, I am under orders to stay home on the second as well. I really cannot afford to give up another day at school falling further behind. The race for top dog is an endurance test and I have to keep slugging away. So I’m anal, I want that Valedictorian prize. I roll my eyes at that thought. After last night such bullshit proves how shallow it is.
Andréa dozed off an hour ago about six right after we ate dinner. She looked like a wreck run over by a train. The poor girl did not say an awful lot. Not that I should be surprised. I think she got the worst of it. My hopes of comparing notes got shot down in flames. Of, course she got the worst of it. Look at her sleeping my Andrew Lyons is nowhere to be found. Belagosi tells me we can talk tomorrow. Sure, right if I make it through the night. Tonight is supposed to be round two of the freak parade. I can’t wait to see what they throw at me before morning.
Andi did tell me even though she slept through Doctor Belagosi grilling me she heard most of it. Andréa thought she was dreaming one of those weightless floating adrift weird helpless lost little girl dreams. Wow, that was a mouthful. At least she woke up around five to eat dinner. Mom and dad appeared concerned repeatedly questioning if she is really okay. Her fever broke just as Belagosi told them it had. Mom is attuned to everything. I can attests to that having never gotten away with a thing for eighteen years.
Andi wasted no time rushing back to sleep not taking time to talk. When she looked at me her gaze seemed to be one of awe. It is like she is avoiding helping me sort reality from fantasy. Perhaps Andrew managed a long look at his body realizing he is completely screwed. Belagosi made me out to be a hero. She woke up a couple of times long enough for me to assure her I am okay. I did not tell her any of my adventures playing Jean the Demon Slayer. When I think, about it that’s pretty cool. To think Buffy is out there under an assumed name is reassuring.
I’m not too high on saving the world. I am imaging myself with a collection of Holy Water, crucifixes, garlic, silver bullets along with a sledge hammer and spikes in my purse. After hearing about All Souls Day being round two of last night’s skirmish I checked my purse. I’m only lacking the bullets, spikes and sledge hammer. I doubt I should ask dad to run down to the hardware store. I’m in no mood to explain that request. Besides have you ever hefted a bloody sledge hammer? We have a couple at dad’s garage it takes two men and a boy to swing one. It would simply kill my Michael Kors purse. Michael Kors? A three hundred dollar purse, not me mine came from Walmart less than ten bucks. Dad is not too happy about the hole in the roof. I’m just glad he has no way to pin that on me. You can bet this little black duck is not going to bring that up. I have to admit seeing that asshole flame out, priceless. It is better than having my own Master Card.”
The insurance claims guy is supposed to be around sometime today. I can hear him now. “Meteor? Through the roof? Not covered it’s an act of God.” At least that part is right. I force myself back to All Souls Day, this is creeping me out. I’m not too keen on staying up all night standing guard. I should take a nap it is going to be a long night. I just hope it does not rain the hole is right above my pillow. Take a note, Jean the next time you exercise demons make sure it is not over your bed. I’m still feeling pretty good about this. Imagine a little scared shitless girl like me nuked a demon. It is time for some sleep.
“Hello, hello, Miss, Hello.”
‘What the hell!’ I look up and see a guy staring at me through the hole over my head. “Who are you?”
He answers, “I am Jorge Hernandez I’m here to fix the roof. I did not want to bother you but I’m afraid debris might fall on you. May I come down to put some covering on your bed just in case?”
“As long as you use the door do not simply drop in. Did you ever hear of the front door?” I see a sheepish smile not missing he has perfect gleaming white teeth dark eyes and black hair. Thankfully my sarcasm is not misinterpreted by that guy. What the hell time is it? Eight AM, Geeze I must have slept through the counter attack. Well I’m still here, unless this is it. How do I know I’m not dreaming now? Jorge is rather cute. Remember Troy, he was Dorothy McGuire’s wet dream in that movie A Summer Place.
“I knocked but nobody answered. I had no idea the hole went right through and was over the bed until I got up here.” He reports still smiling peering at my pajama clad body from above.
This guy definitely has the advantage of positioning. Not wanting to be a prone babe underneath a hunk I jump up landing firmly on the floor. This part is good the carpet feels firm. So I answer, “Okay I’ll be right down to let you in the front door. You have ID?”
“Yes miss I even have a company truck parked out front.”
I reach into my Walmart knock off designer purse gripping a bottle of holy water. Just in case. “I have to wake up my sister. Meet me on the porch in five.”
I turned to shake Andréa. “Get up sleepy head man incoming. Besides your twenty-four hour recovery time expired.”
“Huh,” she grunts while tossing a pillow at me. I point to the hole noting her deer in the headlights gawk. She stares at the cannon ball hole like it is the first time she has seen it. “Jean what the hell is that?”
I shake my head. “Did you sleep through everything? Never mind get your ass up. A cute guy has to come in our bedroom. I’m going down to let him in no excuses. I’ll be right back.”
Andréa is slowly moving as I dash downstairs. If she pokes too long it will give me plenty to bust on her when Jorge comes walking in on her. On my way by I flip on the switch to start the coffee then open the door. From the sound of it mom went back to bed and dad is off to work. He has to be at the garage for seven. Mom often naps after he leaves and I’m on my way to school. Mister white teeth dark hair and eyes is standing there smiling and he is cute. It does not cut him any slack after Troy I know better and trust no one. His ID looks real though I have one more little test.
On my way down the stares I opened the bottle of demon Kryptonite sticking the cap into my pajama pocket. So while I am reading his ID I absently handed him my water bottle to hold. Naturally a woman, (me) is in presence of a hunk she displays her little girl flirtation spilling a little on him. No flames, no instant horns springing up or hissing voice to threaten me results. So I let Jorge in walking him to the bedroom. Lucky for Andréa she is on her feet. I drag her out of the room to the coffee pot. The racket woke mom and she is hovering over Jorge providing her mom supervision. Mom on the job that’s always good.
Andréa and I are sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee when the door opens. I giggled when I caught Andréa checking out Jorge as he exited to the porch. She stares at me passing a long cold look eeping out. “What?”
I can’t resist searching for signs of Andrew Lyons. “Andi you are a girl for five minutes and are already checking out guys butts, shameless.”
She mock slaps my arm coming back with a lame. “You were too.”
“Yeah but I have eighteen years training so I’m entitled.” I’m teasing to my disappointment my Andrew is not there. I say my Andrew but to be truthful I spent the last three and a half years hating the guy. In one week I fall in love with him just like a character in a made for TV movie.
“Well me too, I started my period this morning. What a mess.” Andréa reveals in a whisper.
Did I hear that right as I’m laughing my ass off? I’m not going to give the dear girl a pass on this one. I hit her with a sharp comment in a teasing way. “Good you deserve it. Let it be a lesson to you the next time you sneak into girl’s night out in Spookville there is a price to pay. Now you’ve received your special gift do you still want to be a girl?” That is when mom came in eyes wide displaying an odd expression.
“Jean, stop picking on Andréa you make it sound like she chose to be a girl. You don’t order your persona on line. Besides being a girl is the better choice even with the inconveniences.”
Mom’s gaze is one I’ve seen before. I don’t want to open this can of worms so I quickly regroup. “Mom Doctor Belagosi wants Andréa and I to come to his office this morning. He has something to talk to us about. He needs to check on us to be sure his diagnosis is correct. Doctor Belagosi believes everything is ok but since Andréa was out of it he wants to be certain. Are you up to driving Andi?”
My sister looks at me like she never heard this before. I find myself thinking of Andi as my sister. I have no idea if this is a residue effect Andrew Lyons told me about when he encountered that Sanctuary House. One look at Andréa should warn you Sanctuary House residue is serious shit.
“Yeah, I am feeling much better the fog is lifting I’m good.”
“Before you kids go there is something I have to discuss with you.” Mom says using her parental voice.
Like that look she gave me a minute ago I’ve heard this tone before. It means this will take awhile and it is not open for negotiation. Without arguing I refill everybody’s coffee cup and sit back down. “Sure,” I say sheepishly while passing a warning gaze toward Andi. My sister forms a cautious defensive countenance while caressing her coffee cup against her lips. I can see her eyes over the quaking mug looking nervous.
Mom wasted no time getting into it. “Doctor Belagosi called yesterday afternoon. You girls were sleeping and I did not get time to discuss it at dinner. Andréa you appeared rather pale and still groggy even though your fever broke much earlier. I decide to wait. Jean your father is aware of this and strongly agrees. He thinks highly of Andréa and wants to help.” Mom takes a breath the one she always displays before dropping a bomb.
“He said he met with Mother Superior giving her his medical report. She does not expect you back school any earlier than Monday. She said both of you girls are in her prayers wishing you God speed in your recovery. If Monday is too soon I only need to call her. As for the other part Andréa while you are out stop by your house and pick up some clothes. Doctor Belagosi does not want you left alone until he is sure you are safe. Safe is an odd selection of word choices but he is an odd duck. You can stay as long as you want Andréa. Father and I agree you are more than welcome.”
Andi looks at me whispering, “We have to talk.” She turns to mom, “I’m rather surprised Mrs. Phillips are you sure I don’t want to intrude.”
Mom almost leaps over the table to hug Andi. “My dear it is our pleasure. Now run along you both have to get dressed and go out to take care of business. Thank the doctor for me he is a most unusual man.”
I had no time to react to Andréa’s whisper before she wrenches my shoulder from its socket. I am literally dragged to my room feeling the wind from the door slamming. Jorge is on the roof banging away at least the hole is plugged. I pull the covering off the bed. Actually it is one of those poly sheets that I rolled keeping the debris from falling all over. With that stuffed into a cardboard box in the corner I sit on the bed. Andréa lands beside me.
“Did you hear your mom Jean? She said Mother Superior told her both of you girls are in her prayers. That is exactly what she said both of you girls. What the hell are we going to do? I feel awful look at the trouble I caused you. I can’t expect you to go to school faking being a guy from now on.”
“Andi,” I try to calm her but have no idea how. I wanted to point out Mother Superior said girls meaning she accepts Andrew Lyons is Andréa. That is too far fetched. It is more likely mom or the doctor referenced the term girls. I am clueless grasping for some explanation. What likely happened is no pronouns were used and Mother Superior simply said we will be praying for them. Nothing we can do about it but cautiously walk in the door Monday me as Andrew and Andi as Jean. “Look sis we have no idea of what they think. Don’t panic we will feel our way through to discover what expectations are. I, Jean Phillips, Demon slayer is on the job and will come up with a brilliant plan.”
Andréa offers a sign of relief in her pretty face. “I know,” she responds to my brazen speech.
“Jean you said demon slayer you were not joking. I can tell when you are kidding. You tried to pass it off as a joke but it isn’t is it? I was in that damn nightmare with you. I know it was not a dream. We were somewhere in an ugly place.”
I turn quickly hugging my sister tightly almost suffocating her. Stroking her sweat soaked hair I whisper softly. “It is going to be okay. We are alright we won. Calm down I’m with you, always.” I released her with a sisterly peck on the cheek. There is no desire within me as planted by that Trickster. It has been purged replaced by a strong bond. I suspect deep down Andrew is gone. That is why Belagosi dodged my question.
“No jean I have to finish. I love you, you saved my life. I heard you when my naked body staked out positioned to be impregnated by that incredibly huge stick between your legs. I saw you a fantastic beautiful male any girl would eagerly welcome. You did not see yourself did you? I heard you say, I will die before hurting my sister. I saw that bastard strike you twice and you not yield. Who the hell are you? Harry Potter or better yet is it Hermione? Yes you are the beautiful Hermione. Jean sending that freak off like a rocket was awesome.” Then she threw herself into my arms, “I love you,” she whispered.
Fuck she saw all that. I have no way to explain it. I’d hoped she simply was so out it from the fever she either did not see this bullshit or forgot it. Now I have to come up with some logical response. Oh fuck it I’ll simply be honest.
“Sis I have no idea. I found myself standing there facing this creep knowing I am not going to back down. I fully expected both of us were toast. Deep down I knew if we get fried we are not going to end up in their place. Hey we are Catholic girls attending St. Michaels run by a gaggle of penguins. If we don’t believe their sales pitch then this whole operation is a waste of time. I decided to stick with the program. What the Trickster offered I knew is nothing I wanted.”
My dissertation ended to find us locked in a massive hug. The hug is broken by Andi. “We need to get dressed Bella owes us some answers.”
I nod jumping off the bed grabbing my jeans and turn toward the bathroom. A shower is definitely needed. Again Andréa grabs my arm.
“No not those clothes wear one of the outfits Bess gave you. I want to see Bella with my sister.”
An exasperated sigh escapes my lips as I stare at a grinning Andi.
“What are you afraid of Jean? You act like people don’t know you are a young woman. Your visitor arrived the same moment mine did. We are twins remember? Humor me look like you are proud of who you are for a change.”
I wanted to rap the little hussy. She wants me to come down to her level. I shrug, “Okay just this once.”
A half hour later I step out of the shower as Andréa rushed to fill my empty space. While the water is running keeping my sister occupied I take my time dressing. The frilly clothes almost cause me to grab my jeans, instead I tough it out. Standing before the mirror enjoying my thought of Andréa hogging the last of the hot water I gaze at myself. I do not usually regard Jean Marie Phillips this way, my response is wow. I am shaken by my reflection.
A woman is seen in the mirror she appears self assured. I am wearing a lavender strapless cutout dress. Not only are there two sides to the story, but both are worth mentioning. As I stood there staring into the mirror I became confused, this is not me. It's hard to gloss over the sexy allure of two triangular side cutouts below a fitted sweetheart bodice, or the custom fit that an elastic back band and no slip strip lining presented in that mirror. The A-line skirt tucks a little at the waist. It has an exposed zipper at back. It is fully lined. ‘Wow,’ I though so much skin showing around my shoulders. My resistance to my feminine side melted causing a sudden need to embrace this dress.
Not wanting to overdue this look I am not wearing hose. My white ankle socks are visible above a pair of black leather Mary Janes. Again resisting overdoing this female thing my shoes are flats. I don’t think I ever wore heels. Andi is exiting the shower whistling unable to resist her tease.
“Put the jeans back on you are going to cause a heart attack. Even worse I have to spend a half hour hoping I can avoid looking like the frumpy sister.”
I give her my you, are full of it stare throwing her Horny toad skirt at her. “You look stunning in this hurry up we have a fake doctor to torment. Then we must rescue those amazing clothes of yours.”
Andréa has to sit at that vanity forever proving how correct I am when I decided being a girl is a royal pain in the ass. Look at her primp. The day I went to school disguised as Andrew it took five minutes to slap on my clothes, grrr.
“Andréa Lyon’s”, I start using my mother voice stopping myself. “Uh what in hell is your middle name? I can’t scold you without using it.”
She turns perplexed “Uh my parents did not give me one. Why is it important?”
“Of course it is silly. It is how you know when you are in trouble. Every time mom starts with, Jean Marie Phillips I cringe. It means trouble every time.”
Andi laughs, “Well in that case I will adopt a middle name.” She rolls her eyes pretending to be thinking. “I know the perfect middle name, Jeanette, Yes Andréa Jeanette Phillips, err Lyons.” She blushes.
I know going out into the November cold is never intelligent idea to wear a strapless dress. I put on my navy cardigan and grab my tan camel hair coat. I’m also trying to ignore what Andi chose as a middle name and her slip saying Phillips. I cannot maintain the cool persona because a freaking tear trickles down my cheek. Andi hugs me.
“Jean, I get it. All I can say is it’s because I love my twin. Let’s get out of here before I ruin my last half hour’s work. You are not wearing makeup.” She dodges as I miss my attempt to poke her.
The Sanctuary House is a fifteen minute trip from my house on Colony Drive. Andréa drives her pea green Beetle having mastering the stick shift at last. The sudden lurching and stopping almost caused me severe whiplash more than once. Andréa seems to have somewhat mastered shifting gears. I don’t know how many times I begged her let me drive to avoid my having whiplash. I’ve been handling a stick since age twelve. I am not going to explain illegal acts. You will have to take my word for it.
“Andréa this is a God awful remote location.” I say as she turns onto a dirt road ten miles from town.
“What do you expect they’d put all those demons on display for the world to see? Believe me the scene awaiting you would do Stephen King proud. Expect Jack Nicholson to pop out from behind every tree.”
She begins to hum the theme from a recent horror movie. My mind suddenly tropes bringing up images I do not want to see. I have this sense we are tempting fate. ‘What if we are walking into a trap? The Trickster now has two babes to knock up.’ Sure that is an appropriate penalty for nuking one of their all stars. “Andi I’m thinking this is not a good idea.”
Andi is now laughing her normal giggle. Not some demonic cackle that precludes the guy with the chainsaw jumping out from behind the back seat. I start fumbling in my purse sitting in my lap. Andi keeps sneaking a glance in my direction. Every time she does the Beetle finds a rut. “Andi watch the road.”
“I can’t help it your fishing is distracting me, didn’t I tell you to put on your makeup at home? It is a little late now applying mascara is dangerous on this road. You will poke an eye out.”
My glare returned signaling she is way off base. “I’m not looking for makeup I’m double checking to see if I have my demon tools.” I ignore her amused smile and keep talking. “Holy water, check, crucifix, garlic, check, I hope I’m not missing anything.”
Andi suddenly slams on her brakes. I lurch forward ducking into a defensive position expecting I don’t know what. Andi is out of the car in a flash. She walks around to the boot opening it while yelling, “Come here.”
Clueless me stares into the trunk while Andréa points to a sledge hammer and long wooden stakes. I bleep out “You gotta be shitting me.”
“Jean, I’m your wing man so I took care of what you did not have. Sorry but Ace Hardware was fresh out of silver bullets. You know how hard those things are to get? I couldn’t even find any on line. Now relax are you ready to kick ass?”
Now we are both laughing until I looked up and saw it, Sanctuary House sitting on a hill looking too much like the Bates Hotel. The only thing missing is bats silhouetted against a full moon. “Fuck!”
“I swear it was not this much of a drive when I came here before. The road was much smoother, this ain’t right.” Andréa says in a stuttering voice.
Great Andréa I do not need to hear this. I kept that to myself as Andi is keeping herself cool and under control. I don’t need her freaking out on me. Lost in my thoughts I am surprised when the final distance suddenly faded away and we are at the door step of the haunted house.
Belagosi told us to meet him here and he did say the freaks only come out to play twice a year. Both of those days have passed. It sounds good but what if he is one of them? Don’t go there I saw him handle my holy water. The last helps reassure me, not.
“Andréa” I shout, “Do you happen to have a cell phone?”
She stares at me like I’m stupid, “You know I don’t why?”
“I should have called Mother Superior to check on Belagosi to see if he really called to check on him.”
“Jean your mother clearly said she spoke with Mother Superior herself. Weren’t you paying attention?”
“Uh yes I heard that but who called who?”
“Stop freaking let’s go inside and sort this out.”
This whole scene is bothering me. Something ain’t right. I do not want to find myself staked out like Andi was. I’m frozen in place looking at that dump. Yes, Sanctuary House is a wreck. “Andi does this look like it did when you came here?”
I did not want to hear what she had to say in response. “No, it was an old house with creepy looks but in better repair than this.”
All I can think of is lame valley girls in those Scream movies, all dumber than a box of rocks running around hysterical in their underwear. Grabbing my tools making sure I have a firm grip on holy water and cross I lead Andi up the steps. The grayed weathered floor boards on the porch creak underfoot. Many have already broken away showing the dirt under the deck. It does not help more than one rat is seen scurrying around down there. I tighten my fingers around Andi’s hand as I reach for that hideous knocker. It breaks off in my hand. “Great.”
Andi blinks now ready to turn around and run I right behind her. The door swings open the only thing missing is the creepy voice saying “Welcome.” The door is hanging on one hinge leaning precariously supported by a raised warped floor board. I had to lift and push to get it fully open, when I did the remaining hinge gave way. The door fell to the floor with a loud crash raising a cloud of dust. Andi jumped digging her claws into my wrist. Andi is attempting to step back as I’m now dragging her forward into a dark empty room convinced she is smarter than I.
“You were right time to turn around running and screaming.” Andi’s voice no longer firm with resolve convinces me. I somehow know there will be no answers if we turn and run. We must see this through to the end. “Come on Andréa, God hates a coward.” Christ how lame can you get, Geeze Phillips you have to do better than that. Clearly the room is empty. I ask Andi, “When you came here what did you see? I mean where was all the stuff?”
My sister stares for a long time. At least it seemed like a long time. It is a long time when you are scared shitless looking for any excuse to run. “The entry room was right here it had an earth tone carpet with a long desk right in front of you there.” She points straight ahead to an empty space. Andi goes on, “The walls were wood paneled not the broken plaster hanging in clumps you see now. Those stairs had an elegant spiral case with ornate rails. A bright gold tulip shaped chandelier hung above it but I did not go up there. Over to the right beyond that doorway is where they had the entry point. I told you about the cylinders you stood in to be screened. You picked the place you wanted to spend the weekend and the cylinder rotated to that opening and you simply stepped out into the resort.”
I walked over to the doorway noticing a floor board gave way underfoot almost causing me to go through. I jumped back nearly knocking a shaking Andréa over. I am not surprised to see an empty shell of a room. The back wall is completely gone revealing dense vegetation beyond.
“Let’s get out of here” Andi says.
I suddenly agree with her as a strange sensation engulfs me. “Do you see that?” I ask pointing to a fog like substance rose in color drifting toward me. I turn to grab Andréa and run like hell but my feet are frozen to the floor. I can’t move surrounded by the fog. Something is caressing me and my cheek feels a kiss. Then a warm welcoming voice generating love fills my head. ‘Welcome Jean Marie Phillips. Know you are loved.’ Then the fog dissipates. Andréa breaks my trance.
“See What?”
I shake my head completely at peace knowing everything will be perfect. I have no answers but somehow all is right with the world. I walk outside with Andi at my side. She appears more confused than ever. We exit the porch to see Belagosi standing in front of Andi’s car. I’m relieved to see there are no black robed hooded acolytes gathered around him. The doctor is smiling. I’m not, even with this strange feeling of peace encompassing me. Andréa appears nervous as she approaches him.
“Doc you told us to meet you at your office. Um excuse me but this shack is not much of an office. What happened to your ultra vacation resort? Are you running a game on us?”
Belagosi steps forward offering a soft smile. The tall thin pale man has a commanding presence. He addresses both of us answering Andi’s question. “Ah Sanctuary House, yes it is closed for the season. Alas it is our illusion to defend against evil at high risk times. As you know risks are greater during this season than any other time. Evil spirits and demons are back in their place for a time. You are safe now.”
I am hearing more generalities still without answers. I press Belagosi. “You never answered my question what about Andrew is he stuck as Andréa?” My eyes hone in on the man expressing the urgency of my question.
“Yes child I heard you. You must hear me.” He reaches out to Andréa. “You my child, how are you feeling? This is what is most important. How have you weathered the Trickster’s last evil joke?”
Her expression tells me Andréa did not expect his response. I take her hand whispering, “It’s okay tell him what you think. I’m here covering your back.” Her hand grips mine signaling she is secure within herself.
“I will live if that is what you mean. I have my sister who loves me. If this is what I have I will deal with it. I cannot ask Jean to pretend she is Andrew. I will not pretend or take what is hers. Do you have an answer? You refuse to inform my sister about Andrew the boy I have been. We await your response, the one you avoid.”
My smile and second squeeze of her hand reassures her. At least I hope it did. Her physical reaction suggests my sense is right. I too stare at Belagosi growing tired of this stalling.
“I am afraid the Trickster’s evil is permanent. You are Andréa Jeanette from now on unless you honestly say it is more than you can handle. Are you certain this is something you can embrace? The Boss is wary of miracles they tend to create problems for humans. How can you explain Andrew to Jean’s parents if he suddenly appeared? Because of Jean the Boss will grant a new reality for you. What you do not know is the Trickster’s clever manipulation was part one of his game.”
My blinking in disbelief caught Belagosi by surprise causing him to pause. I hugged Andréa continuing to listen.
“The first act of his evil design changed Andrew into a genetic duplicate of your sister Jean. He did not intend to create twins. No his sinister game required you to replace Jean. Part two of his evil deed almost succeeded. He attempted to seduce your sister into believing she wished to be male. He failed to understand how strong willed Ms. Phillips can be. To be successful Jean would have cooperated by impregnating the new Jean sending her home to disgrace her parents. Once impregnating her substitute Jean would be killed and banished into hell to become the Trickster’s concubine. It was a masterful evil scheme. He did not count on Miss Phillips.”
All the while Belagosi is speaking I am listening while staring down onto my Mary Janes. They have been scuffling up dust balls as my nervousness caused involuntary movement of my feet. I want to scream as several questions bother me. Unable to keep quiet I burst out with a series of queries.
“You need to answer a few of my curiosities Doctor Belagosi. You say perfect DNA replicas meaning Andi and I are identical twins. First off how can anyone accept this knowing I’ve been an only child forever? Now that there are two of us how do we get Andréa past the nuns? It is not like they will fail to notice Andrew wearing skirts. That little annoyance will definitely bother them considering the cow they had when he showed up with long hair. Skirts are a definite no, no. Have you noticed my sister has taken to girly clothes? Can you explain how it is I knew exactly what the Trickster intended? Finally, I suspect this fellow is a sore loser and is plotting as we speak. When can we anticipate his return?” Proud of myself for being so insistent I smile growing silent.
Belagosi looks at me with a strange expression. I sense he is holding back not wanting to answer. He exhales slowly surprising me. “You are correct Miss Phillips your action caused considerable difficulty for the Boss. Had the Trickster been successful we would face the issue of another demon. Not only that your sister would have died in child birth.”
I catch Andréa’s gasps.
Belagosi confirms saying, “Yes Andréa it is the way of it. The new born demon always kills its mother. You can thank Jean for her bravery and stubborn resolve at risk of her own life. Had you perished at the hands of the Trickster, Jean the Boss would have welcomed you into his garden.”
Now it’s my turn to blink.
“Come, come Ms Phillips a Catholic girl educated by the Sisters of Saint Joseph has not figured out who the Boss is. No the evil one you dueled will not be returning you destroyed the spirit. He is no more. How you smelled out the plot discovering the right path, I do not know. The Boss only told me he expected as much from you. The rose fog, it is his embrace my dear. I have to go for answers to the rest I’m instructed to request you speak with Mother Superior.”
“But we,” I start to speak when Belagosi puts his hand up stopping me.
“Andréa, your questions of school and home will be answered when you see Mother Superior today. I said today and don’t go changing your clothes.”
Okay we are dismissed I get it but the finality is sudden and shocking. Belagosi simply disappeared without as much as a c-ya. Poof he is here one minute, gone the next. Andréa and I stood frozen hugging each other while trembling.
“Fine way to ditch us sis no manners at all.”
I laugh at Andréa’s witticism and walk with her to the car.
I made this statement at the beginning. Essentially my story is coming to a conclusion. My reckless adventure landed me in a place I could not possibly predict. Either my life as I’ve known it is over or it’s at a new beginning. Whatever; shit, I’ve been saying that word more and more, it is upsetting shaking me at my core. With than in mind and the shocking magical disappearance of one Helmut “Bella” Belagosi I felt Jean’s fingers intertwine with mine. My half turn to face her revealed she is as stunned as I. Jean Marie Phillips my sister In spirit took my hand as we walked toward my pea green beetle. I mused to myself, ‘I no longer have to worry about using the teen girl word whatever.’
“What just happened, Jean?” I do not expect an answer from my silent sister. As she walks slowly toward the car I bury myself reviewing what happened. First the strange man is talking to us avoiding direct answers then poof he is gone as fast as he arrived. The only thing I know is the girl I lusted after for nearly four years, the one who could not stand me is holding my hand. She is the one who less than a month later risked her life to save me. I was a horny boy who thought he is in love with a pretty girl who herself lived in denial; I find myself a month later having become her twin sister. I have two parents who never cared for me in jail leaving me abandoned without support only to discover thirty days later what true love means. Isn’t that the definition of pure happiness?
'Now what? The Trickster planted idea in my head letting me believe I wanted to be a girl. I get fooled into liking pretty clothes wearing them at every opportunity. The real girl sitting next to me dresses like a guy. Sitting here after Jean saved my life my desire to become a girl is exposed as a fraud. That should be a terrifying result. Life cannot go back to normal. I am expected to get used to the tampon between my legs. Jean and I are identical genetic twins with different parents presenting a ludicrous proposition. According to the guy involved in the clean up of this mess everything is fine. Jean wonders why I’m a wreck.'
Jean did not answer she simply squeezed my hand signaling this mystery is not solved. Her green eyes mirrored mine as they sparkled. She spoke with a certainty like this girl has all the answers when I know she does not.
“Andi, we are not home yet but I know in my heart we won the battle. I know you and I are one we cannot be separated. I only know we have to figure it out one step at a time. Did you hear Bella when he said don’t change your clothes. Don’t you think that is strange?”
I stared at my sister hearing what she said after forgetting the strange man said it. I shrugged it off until Jean brought it up. Then another surprise almost causes me to run. She opens her tan camel hair coat. Until now it had been buttoned up just like mine. Her clothes have changed She is wearing a quarter sleeve dress with her top two buttons unfastened. The teal upper half yields at the midriff where a navy colored full skirt flares out hemmed at her knees. Her nude hose highlights gorgeous legs. She is wearing black flats. Jean smiles at me, “See sis we are wearing the same thing.”
Opening my coat confirms she is correct. My stunned reaction causes Jean to giggle. “Didn’t know you owned a camel hair coat did you Andi? This is going to get weirder before the day is over.”
I somehow know Jean is right when I start the car. It is a long drive to my house. It is a place I do not wish to be. After spending only a few days as my sister’s guest I know I never want to leave there. Marie and Luke are wonderful parents making me envious of Jean Marie Phillips. The long silence is broken by Jean who muses aloud.
“Andi I know what happened cannot be logically explained. I am not one who believes in magic. That Sanctuary House could not have changed without magic. It could not have decayed this rapidly into something else.”
“Jean what kind of something else are you saying this is a hallucination? I’d agree with you except look at our clothes. They changed they are real unless you believe we are still out of it.”
“That is not what I meant. That rose colored fog, something happened in there. It was not a Trickster or an evil spirit. Dare I say it? Will you think I’m daft?” I was embraced surrounded by love. He kissed me called me his daughter promising me everything will be alright. I came outside and there stood Bella. Andi, do you believe in God?”
I blinked at her question afraid to say no because I knew the car would be hit by lightening. “Jean I have to if I accept demons assaulted us and Belagosi vanished before our eyes then I have to accept the opposite exists. After what we’ve been though I’d be a liar to say no. Really I could not expect a frail thing like you could have fought that evil Trickster and won without help. Hey don’t hit me I’m driving.”
We laughed at that until I got to my house where we saw the place sealed off with yellow police tape. Several cop cars are in the driveway and TV mobile units are parked out front. “Now what the hell are we going to do?”
“Park behind that TV van we can ask to find out what is going on. Hey isn’t that Dave Bemis opening the door of that van? Yeah it is let’s pump him.”
I did not get a chance to get in a single word as Jean leaps out of the car before it completely stops. She is on Dave like a bear to honey. I am running trying to catch up. It had not dawned on me how we are dressed. What I mean is how Andi is dressed. Dave is sure to notice Andrew Lyons is wearing a dress; I went into a panic until Dave who appeared drooling basking in my sister’s shameless flirting. Then I realized I present as Andi looks not Andrew. Until recently there was only one of me. The unique flirting I recently learned reminds me my Andi persona discovers something new everyday hanging around my sister.
“Jean what brings you out here? I did not expect to see you.” The voice of a handsome Dave Bemis says.
He turns from Jean to look at me. It’s almost a double take. I want to run but it is too late. The jig is up. I’m praying Jean’s creative skills are as good as everything else she pulled off. What Dave says next nearly floors me and I find myself leaning against the van to keep from falling over.
“Andréa you are here too? I should have expected as much. Where you see one you see the other. I just asked you sister what you guys are doing at a crime scene.”
I’m speechless while Jean must have recovered to raise the bullshit level a notch. I know better to say anything and simply keep quiet. I notice for the first time Dave is a hunk. My sister is now talking.
“We were just driving by and saw all the commotion then I spotted you ripping off the TV van. That is pretty brazen of you right in front of the cops. Did you get anything good?”
Dave starts laughing and passes a glance at me. I feel rather giddy is he checking me out?
“Ladies I have an internship with channel seven meaning I do the grunt work while the others get the glory. The people who lived here were sent to jail for some kind of ripoff. There is a hundred grand missing and the cops were staking the place out. They figured more people were involved and hoped they’d show up looking for the cash. The cops searched the place but never found anything.”
I hear my sister say, “You said staked the place out and searched it. When were they doing this?”
“The cops are not saying but the guess is ever since the perps were sent to jail. It would be about a month. About three weeks ago they raided the place and found nothing.”
I blurt out, “Wait a minute you said raided weeks ago what about their kid who lived here. He went to our school what happened to him?”
Dave looks at me like I’m nuts then turns to Jean. “What’s with Andréa? Is she drinking or something? The cops said nobody is living here. The landlord is bitching because he can’t rent it out because of the cops. Andréa who is this kid? You said he goes to our school.”
I am proud of my sister she is quick saving me from searching for an impossible answer. “Andréa is mistaken some kid told us at the library he went to our school. Andréa and I gave him a ride home. He said he lived here. He said his name was Andrew. I’m guessing it was bull just some dude trying to hit on us.”
Wow, I have a lot to learn my sister is a professional bullshit artist. No wonder she kicked that Trickster’s ass. I smiled gazing into Dave’s eyes and he suddenly blushed then he directed his comment to me.
“Guys I’d like to talk longer but I’m getting the evil eye. Nice seeing you again Andréa, you too jean. Do you mind if I call you sometime Andi?”
I smile “If you want,” then snicker at Jean.
Jean and I sit in the car watching cops crawl all over the place then I ask her. “What did you say to Dave Bemis to explain there are two of you? I expected a total freak out when he walked to the back of the van with you and saw me standing there. Over these past few days I’ve seen you in action I’m convinced you are a world class bullshit artist. This trick I have got to hear it, spill”
I could tell from her expression she did not want to answer so I prodded. “You are as bad as Bella, spill.”
“Andi you won’t believe this. I walked to the side of the van where Dave stood putting a camera onto the back seat. He looked at me with this sick puppy dog glare. You know the one, well on second thought being a guy until a couple days ago perhaps not. It is that look believe me you will get it soon enough. He said almost blushing, wow Andréa you look great. I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to see if you’d like to go out sometime. I said I’m not Andréa. He thought I was you joking and said you’re Jean? Jean never wears dresses, Andi is the girl twin.” I wanted to hit him so I said; don’t I look like a girl?” I dragged him out to the back saying, “Here she is.”
I stare at Jean, “Bullshit, Andréa has never met Dave or anyone else at school.”
“Tell me about it,” Jean says to me and at the same time we look at each other both saying, “Bella.”
I told you at the beginning dear reader and now you know why I said it. I will repeat if you missed it. Never, ever open spam mail. See what happens when you read something you shouldn’t? It is too late now who knows what weirdness awaits us? It is that fear causing our hesitation when we arrive at St Michaels.
Jean is the first one up the stares to Mother Superior’s office and why not. This story begins with Jean being Jean and it ends the same way. It is me Andrew who is going to face the wrath of a serious no nonsense nun. I can hardly wait to see the rigid woman. I can see it now, “Good afternoon Mother Superior. This is Andrew wanting to show you my new hair style and outfit. Don’t I look just like my sister?”
My feet are frozen to the bottom step I’m not moving. I know the old saying, don’t let anything but fear stop you. Okay fear won and I’m not that rock known as Jean. Somehow it did not matter. Jean is the one who kicked a demon’s and has no trouble dragging me into the lion’s den. The woman in the penguin suit gazes over the two of us sweeping our skirts sitting properly like a couple of angels. She is actually smiling as she greets us, “I am so happy you could come in this afternoon. Most importantly, how are you girls feeling? You had everyone worried. All of the nuns were praying for you. We were very concerned.”
“I could barely eep out a very meek, very soft, “I am fine thank you.” While my sister the slayer who kicked a devil’s ass in mortal combat had no trouble going on about how touch and go it had been for me, she gave all the credit to Doctor Belagosi. Then the next bomb dropped. Mother Superior gave us her view of the Doctor.
“Helmut is a wonderful attentive doctor. He is a priest; well you must know that since he has been a family friend for years. He brought you girls into this world. I am sure you are going to miss him now that he has been called to Rome.”
That did it now I am certain we are in an alternative universe. Even Jean is speechless. I guess that event makes this worth the price of admission. I want to run but Mother Superior is not finished.
“I know it has been both a difficult and wonderful day for your girls. Your serious illness, a lost of a good and dear friend in Doctor Belagosi and that wonderful surprise your parents told me about this morning when they came in to see me.” She stops suddenly catching herself, “Oh dear you have not been home yet to see it. Please do not let on I Almost spilled the beans.” Without missing a beat or giving us a minute to recover she piles on with more. “There is one other thing, my brother Paul is a Jesuit priest. He is a Dean at Gonzaga University He is so impressed with your academic standing he is prepared to offer both of you girls a full scholarship. You understand that is predicated upon you keeping your grades up. I am sure this is too much for one day. I will see you girls Monday and give my blessing to your parents.”
Jean and I were almost home when my sister was able to speak. “Andréa I bet Mother Superior if she knew who Belagosi really is would totally freak.” We both laughed and I’m grateful for her comment as it allowed me to momentarily forget what I imagined awaits me. Seriously, I’m expected to accept two people who were total strangers a few days ago believe I’m their daughter. Typically Jean jumps out of the care dragging me into the house.
Both of us in our confusion and delirious state did not notice the obvious. The Phillips’ home is a single story Cape Cod house with two bedrooms and two baths. In addition there is the usual kitchen, den, dining room, living room and laundry area. Somehow while fighting demons, dealing with nuns and a heavenly doctor two dormers sprung up and a stairway leads from inside the front door to the second floor. I clearly remember Jean’s bedroom with the hole in the ceiling just this morning with Jorge peeking through it from the roof. There is a bathroom above it now. My bedroom morphed into a computer room.
Mom and dad are waiting for us as we stepped inside. After a round of hugs they drag us upstairs to show their daughters the new bedrooms. Dad is beaming as he speaks. “I know you girls thought we'd never finish this project but we did. Jean that is your room on the left. Andréa you are on the right.”
I am stunned and I can tell Jean is floored as well. Mom is hugging me and Jean at the same time trying to crush us. “Girls we heard about the scholarships we are so proud of you. You know that and want to see what your rooms look like. Dinner will be ready in an hour. Come Luke let’s give the girls their space they are dying to see their rooms.”
Neither Jean nor I spoke. I think this is the first time we are both speechless as a unit. I entered my room not sure if this is reality. I’m afraid some bad person is going to wake me up. My eyes are closed when I slowly open them I feel like crying tears of joy. I have two windows facing the back yard. A walnut vanity and the bed, wow, the bed is queen sized with a pink down blanket turned back reveals pastel blue satin sheets. A private bathroom is left of my bed and there on the other side a walk in closet. I open the door to see all those clothes left behind at my old house.
My door suddenly flies open as Jean is rushing into my arms hugging me. “Sis your room is just like mine welcome home.”