Message-ID: <2391eli$9707291842@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo) Subject: Repost TG: Alex's Story by Lisa Paige (2/4) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories.moderated Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <5rll90$jt3@nienor.in-berlin.de> Hi. A story about a young fellow who had a deal with his mother, which is more careing as he had thought before. As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null. If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for story postings and for nothing else. Enjoy the story. Ciao Nostrumo >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 2___Alex's_Story___________________________________________by_Lisa_Paige_ to another shopping date. I had a hard time throwing dinner together before Mom got home, but the good mood I was in survived even that. Strangely, Mom didn't comment on the chores I hadn't done, and she even complimented me on the meal. In a conversational tone she asked me what I had done that day, and I told her that I had gone browsing with Betty in the mall. I held my breath, trying to think of what Mom might ask, and how I would respond. Thankfully, she just commented on how nice Betty was to be so helpful, then she began talking about how busy she was going to be in the next few days. It was the first normal conversation we'd had in days. That, and a good night's sleep, became a turning point for me. I actually found myself humming a little tune the next morning as I brushed my hair back above my ears and fastened it into a Chignon. Over breakfast I apologized to Mom for being so surly, and she apologized to me for being so hard-nosed about our deal. She didn't offer to change any of her rules, of course, but she did ease up on the list of chores. We shared a real hug and a kiss, our first in ages, before she had to rush off. After she left I went into her room and sat at her dresser to take my hair down. As I was brushing it out I glanced down and saw a tube of her lipstick. A powerful urge seemed to sweep over me, and I opened the tube and looked into the mirror. I parted my lips as I had the day before, and spread the pomade over my upper lip. As I rubbed my lips together that strong, sweet taste, a little different than before, flooded my senses. I dashed a little on my cheeks, then smudged them just as Betty had done. Looking down again, I found one of Mom's eye shadows and wiped the pad across each eyelid in turn. Next I decided to be really brave, and I opened Mom's mascara. I poked my eye twice and had to clean up several smears, but I kept at it until both lashes were coated black. Betty had used brown on me the day before, but I couldn't be picky. Satisfied with my makeup job, I swept my hair back and held it up to the crown, making a kissing face at the mirror. Then I smiled at myself as I realized that I could really do this. I brushed my hair back over my ears, wrapped it in an elastic , then twisted it and replaced the chignon cover I had removed only minutes before. Betty's niece was back - almost. A thought flashed through my mind: what if Betty had suggested I try something on yesterday? Would I have done it? Would she suggest it next week when we went shopping again? Would I be brave enough to say yes? How could I wait until then? Now I was almost like a robot. I didn't let myself think about past promises as I began opening Mom's drawers and searching through her lingerie. I found one of her half-slips and rubbed it against my face as I had done so many times before. Still not allowing myself to think about what I was doing, I took off all my clothes and dropped them in a pile. I took out a pair of Mom's panties and pulled then on, then stepped into the half slip. Trying to put on a bra was very frustrating, but I told myself I had all day if necessary. Finally I got it snapped behind my back and adjusted pretty well. Not allowing myself to look in the mirror yet, I went to Mom's closet. I had the run of the house and it was several hours till Mom came home! I felt so free and light! I selected a gray pleated skirt and a white blouse with ruffled sleeves. Even though the buttons were in the front, I realized they were on the wrong side, and they took a couple of extra minutes to fasten. Now I examined myself in the mirror, wondering if I looked as good as I felt. I hugged myself and felt the wonderful silky fabric against my skin. When I put my arms down I noticed that the blouse didn't look that good with the empty brassiere underneath. I went to Mom's lingerie drawer again and found several pair of stockings to stuff into the bra cups. I rebuttoned my blouse, then held up one of the pairs of pantyhose. As I stood there wonder if I dared risk it, the doorbell rang. I froze in my tracks. What could I do? Someone would see me! The bell rang again before I realized that this was my house and all I had to do was to wait until they left. I tiptoed out to the front door and peeked th rough a side window. There was a delivery boy standing there balancing a package and a clipboard. I waited for him to leave, but he rang the bell again and just stood there, then knocked loudly. I waited impatiently, almost angrily for a few more seconds. Why didn't the dummy just leave? Then a devilish thought entered my mind. I had fooled a bunch of women yesterday: could I pass myself off on this young guy? I stepped back to the doorway, and as he knocked the second time I swung open the door. A breeze hit my bare legs and found itself up my skirt, giving me goose bumps all over. I put my hand over my chest, feigning a hoarse voice, and whispered "Yes?" I think the door handle was the only thing preventing me from falling down in a faint at this point. "Mrs. Anderson?" the boy asked. Now maybe I looked like a girl, but there was no way I looked like a "Mrs." This guy must be really dumb. I looked at the package that he held up and saw the street number on the label. "Three doors down." I whispered. "Huh?" How could I get so irritated by a person in such a short amount of time? I cleared my throat and used my real voice. "The Andersons live three doors down." I said loudly, then shut the door in his face as he dropped his clipboard. Had he realized I was a guy, or had he just been clumsy? I peeked out the window again to see him picking up his clipboard. As he turned and started down the steps he muttered what sounded like "Nice Pillows." It took me a couple of seconds, then I looked down at my chest and burst into a fit of giggles. I had been a little too generous with the stockings in my bra cups: I must have looked like a double "D" to that delivery boy. I went back into Mom's room and adjusted my bustline, then decided against actually wearing Mom's pantyhose - too risky to chance a run or a snag. I spent the rest of the day in Mom's clothes, doing my chores and freshening my makeup and hairdo from time to time. About an hour before she was due back I carefully replaced all her clothes, then scrubbed my face for several minutes to remove all the makeup. Giving in to my impulses one more time, I returned to Mom's room and retrieved an old babydoll nightie from the back of her lingerie drawer. I hid it under my pillow then went in and made dinner. Mom again complimented me on dinner, then commented on how well I was doing with my hair. We talked about some of the tricks Betty had shown me, and it turned into a really pleasant conversation on hairstyles and fashion. That night after Mom went to bed I took off my pajamas and replaced them with the Babydolls. I had no idea what I was doing or why, but it felt really good - maybe like I was closer to my Mom in some way. I thought about the conversation we'd had, and how good it was to be on speaking terms again. I fell asleep with a smile on my face. Saturday and Sunday were both full of chores, it seemed. Somewhere our conversation turned again to hairstyles, and Mom asked me if I had chosen another style for Monday's appointment. Before I realized how odd it was, I found us sitting on the sofa together looking through one of Mom's magazines. First we talked about hairstyles, then the conversation turned to fashion, then women's issues. Mom told me some of the things she had gone through at her past job. We even talked a little about the divorce. Sunday night I fell asleep thinking that Mom's new rules were turning out better than I could have ever imagined. Alex's Second "Do" Monday afternoon I had my hair up in the now-familiar chignon, and I was waiting for Mom on our porch when she drove up. This time Mom came into Betty's shop with me. "Hi, Alex, hi, Liz. It's good to see you both. Does this mean you're back on speaking terms?" Betty's good-natured smile showed she was teasing both of us. She took one of the albums off her shelf. "Here, Alex, why don't you look through this and see if you can find a style you like." "Oh, we've already taken care of that, haven't we, Alex?" Mom interjected. I blushed a little as I nodded in response and pointed to the picture in the magazine I had brought. "Oh, the Gibson Girl! That will be perfect! Very sophisticated, but also very easy to put up and take down." "Do you think you'll need to give him a body perm, Betty?" Mom had said nothing about that when we had selected the style. I crinkled my nose at Betty. "Hmm, it could be, but we'll try it first with a little extra setting gel and see how that works, okay?" "Okay, then, I'll leave him in your hands, and I'll see you in a while." As Mom walked out the door I settled into the shampoo chair and Betty began her routine. Again she had me do most of the curlers, and by this time I was pretty good at it. She just had to explain the setting pattern to me, and I was able to do most of the rest. She was very impressed. Betty gave me another manicure while I was under the dryer, and this time I accepted her offer of a clear coat of polish on my nails. When my hair was dry Betty combed it out and began the process of back-combing each section, then pinning it up until it was all pinned together at the top of my head. We had a few minutes to chat here and there, but Betty took most of the time teaching. She demonstrated how to get just the right fullness around the sides and form a smooth bun of the remaining hair. As I was admiring our handiwork in the mirror, Betty took a little hook and began pulling out strands of hair at my temples and the nape of my neck. "Betty, we really don't have to go that far, do we?" I asked half-heartedly. "I'm not planning to show this off anywhere, you know." I realized that she was doing those wispy little curled tendrils that were a part of the hairdo in the magazine photo. "Oh, I'm just trying to give you and your Mom your money's worth, Alex. It's these little finishing touches that set off a professional hairdo from a homemade job." She smiled and winked at me in the mirror. "Besides, I thought maybe you'd want to do a little showing off when we go shopping together this week." Her reference to our upcoming shopping trip caused my stomach to do a flip-flop. Last week had been so much fun just browsing through the Woman's departments, but how far would she expect me to go this time? The thoughts of what we might be doing caused me to fall silent for the few moments it took Betty to finish curling the tendrils. The result was very professional-looking indeed, and we took several minutes to admire the finished product in the mirror. A little voice in the back of my mind told me I shouldn't be getting this much enjoyment out of making my hair look so feminine, but I couldn't help myself. Next Betty had me practice twice taking the whole thing down, brushing it out, then back-combing the sections and reconstructing the style from the beginning. She was very complimentary of my abilities, and the second time she was satisfied enough to call it quits. Mom walked in just as I was putting the final gust of spray on my hair. Betty insisted that I do the tendrils again. While Mom and she watched, I used the small hook to pull out two strands at each temple then curled them with my little finger and spritzed them with hair spray. I repeated the process at the nape of my neck as well. I was embarrassed for Mom to see me adding such a feminine touch to my hairdo, and to make it worse, she noticed the clear polish on my fingers. "I see you did his nails too. Betty, you do such a professional job, and it really does make his hands look nice. I'll have to come in and let you do mine some time soon." As she talked, she was looking around at all the changes in Betty's salon. "My, you really have expanded, haven't you? What is that table next to your manicure station?" "Oh, that's my cosmetology setup. I was telling Alex that I've just finished my last class in cosmetology. All I have to do for certification is ten hours of practical work. I'm going to offer ten of my customers a free makeover with any cosmetics purchase. That should do the trick, and it will start to bring in a lot of extra revenue." "I could really use some help on updating my look. Maybe I'll come back when you have some time and try to be one of the lucky ten." "Actually, I have some time right now, if you'd like. And for my two favorite people, I'll not only do your makeovers free, I'll give you two for the price of one on all your makeup." "Betty, that's so sweet of you! What do you think, Alex? We don't have anything else planned for tonight, do we?" She asked it casually as she patted an imaginary hair into place above my ear. I had been so absorbed looking at my new hairdo in the mirror that I hadn't actually been listening. Was she actually suggesting that I get my makeup done along with hers? I glanced at Betty and she was looking right at me with a knowing smile. After our adventure the previous week I couldn't very well pretend that I wasn't interested in wearing makeup. On top of that, it was actually Mom who was suggesting it --but did she really mean that she wanted me to get a real makeover? I swallowed real hard and tried to be non-committal: "Uh, I can't think of anything we had planned." Both women broke into big smiles. Mom grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze as Betty led us to her makeup table. Over my half-hearted protest, they decided that I should go first. Betty put one of her pink smocks around my neck and pinned the tendrils of hair away from my face. "We start with the eyebrows first - they help frame the face and define everything else we do. Liz, to move a little faster we'll each do a side. You take these tweezers and follow what I do over here on the left." I was certainly not expecting to get my eyebrows plucked, but I figured they'd only be doing a few stray hairs. Betty started out that way, by doing a little, then Mom would follow. I began to get concerned, though, because they kept at it. When it seemed as if they were finally through, Betty would tweeze just a little more "to get it even." Then Mom would have to do a little on the other side. When they finally finished and sat back to take a look, I gasped. Where my rather full eyebrows used to be, there were now two very thin arched lines high above my eyes. It seemed to have changed my face completely, and I was hit with the exciting and terrible realization that I had very clearly crossed a line. Without even a touch of makeup I now had a girl's face. I was suddenly sure that, until my eyebrows grew back, I didn't have to worry about passing as a girl: I probably couldn't pass as a BOY. I probably should have gotten angry, or at least protested a little, but I was too stunned. Besides, it was already done, and a part of me was really excited by what I was seeing in the mirror. Mom and Betty seemed not to notice my surprise and didn't even ask me what I thought. Betty stroked a pencil across what was left of my eyebrows. "Now we'd be very conservative on the makeup for daytime, especially for Alex, but let's do a full "nighttime" makeover for each of you - then you'll see the full effect of the colors we chose." Without waiting for a response from either of us, Betty selected a dark shade of brown to line both my upper and lower lids, extending the line out past the corners in kind of a delta. They began selecting the colors for my eye shadow and they drew me into the conversation as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I tried to go along with the mood and I expressed some preferences, but every time the mirror caught my eye my chest would draw a little tighter. With every stroke of those makeup brushes I was becoming a different person - a different and very pretty person. They did my eyelids in three colors of shadow, then applied a cream blush to my cheeks and a red pencil and brush to my lips. By the time they had finished with my lipstick I could hardly breathe. They leaned back to give me a full view of the mirror and asked me what I thought. In truth, what I saw in the mirror was beautiful - but how could that delightfully pretty feminine face belong to me? I hesitated for a moment and put my hand to my face, just to be sure it really was me. I finally picked what I thought was a comment that covered my real thoughts: "Uh, maybe just a shade lighter lipstick, don't you think?" Betty agreed with this observation, so I wiped off my lips with a tissue, and Betty lined and brushed my lips a second time. Betty pulled the hairpins from the tendrils and adjusted them over my forehead, then the two ladies spent several minutes turning me back and forth, admiring their handiwork and paying me all sorts of compliments on my appearance. I was too fascinated with my own image to know how to respond, so to draw the focus away from me I guided Mom to the makeup stool. "Your turn now, Mom, and I get to help Betty this time." That seemed to be all it took, and we were soon gaily conspiring over color selections for Mom's eyes and lips. It surprised me that they took some of my suggestions on colors and shades, and it seemed to make a difference. When we were finished, Mom looked ten years younger! It had been a long time since I had paid her a compliment, and when I told her how pretty she looked she got tears in her eyes and gave me a big hug. "So do you, sweetheart." She whispered sincerely. I suppose I should have been appalled, or at least offended, but somehow I was pleased instead: my appearance seemed to be affecting all my reactions. Betty put all our samples in two little zippered cosmetics bags, then rang up the extra lipsticks and shadows Mom had purchased. I couldn't help noticing that at least some of those colors were my shades and not hers. What did that mean, exactly? Or did she like them so much that she was just planning to try them out on herself? We both thanked Betty and went out to the car. In the darkness of the late evening it never occurred to me to be concerned about my appearance until Mom suggested that we stop at a drive-in for dinner. "Mom, I can't go anywhere looking like this. What would people say? What if I saw someone I knew?" As I said this, I remembered my outing with Betty just a few days before. That feeling of excitement was back, but I had done that with Betty, not with my own Mom. "My dear, at a drive-in people will only see your face and the top of your shirt. The way you look right now, the only notice you will attract will be as a very pretty young lady. And as for meeting any of the snobs at that school, I'd be surprised if they would notice anyone but themselves. Really, though, sweetheart, if you get to feeling the least bit uncomfortable, we'll leave right away, I promise." That assurance made me feel more comfortable and let the excitement take over. What did I have to lose? "What can I get you ladies tonight?" The cheery greeting sent a feeling of relief and a little thrill through me. The carhop, at least, had not the slightest confusion over my appearance. We ordered our burgers and malts and the guy left. "How are you feeling so far?" Mom asked. "Pretty good, I guess. We sure fooled him." "I think you'll find that a common experience. Not to change the subject, but I think you were right about your lipstick. That shade gives you just the right look, even in these neon lights." I blushed and was trying to think of an offhand response, but she went on. "You were right about my eye shadow too. I think you have a real eye for this sort of thing." Now I knew she was teasing. "Oh, cut it out, Mom." "I'm not teasing, sweetheart, I'm serious, and Betty said the same thing. Some people just have an eye for colors and textures, and you're one of them. It's simply a talent that you have. And while we're on the subject, you seem to be doing pretty well on your hairstyling also. That's almost a professional job you have there." She seemed to be sincere, and I was somehow both pleased and embarrassed at the compliment. "Uh, thanks, Mom, I guess Betty's a pretty good teacher - she makes everything so easy and fun." "Well, she tells me that you've been a very good student. By the way, I found another magazine tonight that has some good hairstyles, would you like to look at it while we're waiting for our food?" We spent the next few minutes looking through the magazine and comparing our views on hairstyles and makeup. Somewhere along the way I realized that I was really kind of interested in this stuff, and that I did seem to have a knack for it. Our conversation was fun, and it continued as we ate our food. I got a little thrill when I looked down and saw my straw and my napkin marked with traces of lipstick, just like Mom's. When we had finished, Mom wiped her lips and then took out a new tube of lipstick. I watched fascinated as she opened a compact mirror and began to apply the color. She noticed that I was staring at her, and she nodded toward my makeup bag. "Go ahead, sweetheart, yours needs a little touch up too." As she spoke, she twisted the rear view mirror so that I could see my face in it. It was an electrifying moment for me. I selected a tube from my makeup bag and took the top off. As I twisted the base I looked into the mirror, then lifted the tube to my lips. As that full, fragrant taste entered my senses for now the fourth time, I knew that I wanted to do this all the time. I loved the smell and the taste and the velvety smooth feel of the pomade, and I loved seeing the bright color on my lips. Mom seemed to sense the feelings I was having, and she smiled and gave me a quick hug. "It is kind of fun, isn't it!" All my inhibitions were defeated for the moment. I smiled at her and nodded my agreement. As I took a second look in the mirror, I suddenly froze. There was a car pulling in next to ours, and who should be driving but Pat, with Jennifer in the front seat! I sank down as low as I could in my seat and pleaded with Mom to get us out of there. Fortunately, the carhop had just come up to take the tray, so Mom started the engine immediately and hurried out of the parking lot. The way I was sitting, I couldn't tell whether Pat and Jennifer had seen me or not, and I didn't dare sit up to take a look. How foolish could I have been? Probably the only two girls in the whole town who had even given me the time of day, and now that might all be ruined. Those girls didn't exactly have a reputation for discretion, either. This could get all over town in a hurry. Whatever small hope I might have had for a normal existence in this town was now ruined. I was disgusted with myself and angry at Mom for forcing me into all this. Mom made a couple of tries at conversation while she was driving, but I made no reply. Suddenly she pulled to the side of the road and turned off the engine. "Look, Alex," She said, turning in the seat to face me, "I know you're very upset, but I think it's time to get a few things out in the open. First, you need to know that I've been aware of your, uh, interest in my lingerie for quite some time." My jaw must have dropped a couple of feet. How could she have known? Had I left some things out, or had she seen me? It had been months - well, at least weeks since I had - well, except for this week, of course. What was she going to do to me? "Now don't be frightened. I'm not angry with you or anything. As I said, I've known about it for quite some time, but I figured if I had asked you about it you'd just deny it. Am I right?" I looked at the floor and nodded my head. "Anyway, I talked to my counselor about it ...." I almost fainted. She had told other people about this? Especially that goofball of a shrink she called her 'counselor.' "... and she said it was not that rare for a boy to be interested in feminine things. Granted, it's not the most common thing in the world, but you aren't the only one with these feelings by a long shot. Anyway, Betty and I talked about it for a while, then..." Suddenly I felt physically ill. Betty knew about my ...interest? But then, she seemed to ... the light suddenly dawned. "Wait a minute, Mother. You mean you set me up? You and Betty and that goofball shrink of yours set me up!?" "Calm down, sweetheart. As for Doctor Harris, I haven't really talked to her since we moved, but yes, Betty and I did sort of plan this as a ... well, we wanted to see how far you'd be willing to go. I was pretty sure you wouldn't have agreed or even admitted anything if we had just ... if we hadn't devised this little 'incentive.' But admit it, now, it has been sort of fun, hasn't it?" "Fun!!!?" I yelled "You ..." Mom held up her hand - her special signal to me that I needed to lower my voice and think hard before I spoke. I swallowed my words and just sat glaring at her for a couple of minutes. How could she have tricked me like this? Then I began to think about last week's outing with Betty, and the last couple of days talking with Mom, and tonight's session at the Salon. I had to admit to myself that I really had been enjoying myself. There was a peace, and a friendship even, that I hadn't felt in a long time, maybe never before. It was all very confusing. On the one hand I was very ashamed of what I'd been doing, and I knew I should be angry with Mom for her tricks. On the other hand, I really couldn't deny the feelings of fun and friendship I was having with Betty and with Mom, and I desperately didn't want to loose those feelings. Suddenly I just broke down in big sobs and hid my face in my hands. Mom put her arms around me and hugged me. For a long time, as I sobbed, she just held and stroked me and whispered comforting words to me. Finally I returned to some kind of control, and Mom handed me several tissues to clean myself up. As I blew my nose and wiped my eyes, she began to speak. "I know this is very hard for you sweetheart: it's difficult for me too. But I think that this can be a very important and enjoyable time for both of us. Your feelings are out in the open, now, and I need to lay mine out also. I was very concerned when I first began to suspect your---- interests, but I've done a lot of thinking and reading, as well as my talks with Betty and Doctor Harris, and now I see some real positive things that we might explore." Suddenly I felt something other than shame or confusion, and I looked up at my Mom to see her smiling at me. "Our activity at Betty's tonight, and your little trip with her last week - yes, she told me all about it - shows me that you have a real interest in --- feminine things. Am I right?" I swallowed hard and nodded. "We've had so much fun over these last few days, and seeing you tonight as a --- as pretty as you look with your hair styled your makeup done --- I see that you really have a lot of potential. If you want to explore that side of yourself, Sweetheart, I want to help you. Do you think it's something we can share?" I wasn't sure what she meant, exactly, but it felt really good to hear her say it. "Mom, I really don't know what this is all about or what I really want, but it feels good to think that you might help me---. I'm so confused ---." I couldn't find the words, but Mom interceded. "I know you have a lot of feelings to sort out, and I hope you will let me help you do that, too - I'll listen any time you want to just talk. But at the same time, I don't see why we shouldn't have some fun with this. Whenever you feel you want to look pretty, whether it's hair or clothes or makeup, let's just do it, and we can talk about it along the way. We have the whole summer to use if we want it, and it won't be hurting anyone that I can see. It would be a special joy for me to share some 'girl things' with you. Besides," she chuckled, "I've always thought you were too cute to be 'just another guy'." She hugged me again as she said this, and I chuckled along with her. When I looked into her eyes, I could see that she had been crying as well. We dabbed at the each other's eyes in a vain attempt to clean the mascara off our faces and ended up laughing and crying at the same time. The rest of the way home we talked about what we'd do if Jennifer and Pat had seen me. Mom pointed out that if they were true friends, things would work themselves out. If not, it would be up to her and me to face things together, and deal with any gossip or other problems as they came up. It felt so good to be able to talk to Mom about everything. I determined right then to be fully honest and open with all my feelings from then on. When we got home Mom told me to go and change into my robe, then we'd meet in her bedroom to clean off the rest of our makeup. I took off my clothes and began to step into my pajamas, then caught myself. I quickly put my PJ's back in my drawer and took the nightie from under my pillow: it was time for the first big test of our new "openness." Taking a few deep breaths for courage, I put my robe over my arm and walked into Mom's bedroom wearing her nightie. Mom didn't seem to hesitate at all as a smile played across her lips. "I thought I was missing something out of my drawers. You look very nice in that, sweetheart, even if it is a little old and worn. Tomorrow during lunch I could buy you a nightgown of your own if you like?" A little thrill passes through me as I nodded my head. With that Mom had me sit beside her at her vanity and she showed me how to use her special creams to remove the makeup and moisturize my face. She combed out my hair and helped me put it up for the night, then I did the same for her. It was one of the best nights of my life. Pat and Jennifer I was exhausted by the emotions I had experienced, and I slept very soundly that night. By the time I got out of bed the next morning I could already hear Mom moving around in the kitchen. I hurried to take the curlers out of my hair and get my hair styled before breakfast, but I only had two sections pinned up before Mom knocked on my door. "You don't have to bother putting your hair up this morning, sweetheart. I just remembered I have to be at work early today, so I'm headed out the door. You'll have to get your own breakfast. Just do your regular chores, and I'll see you tonight." Just as I was opening my door to give Mom a hug, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it on my way out, honey. You go ahead and get dressed." On my way to my closet I hesitated in front of my mirror for a moment. A part of me still wanted to put my hair up and try some of my new makeup. As I stood there I heard Mom open the front door. "Hi, Mrs. Howell. Is Alex here? We need to talk to him." My heart almost stopped as I recognized Pat's voice. Surely Mom would figure out some story and send them away - she was pretty quick on her mental feet. "Hi, Pat. Hi, Jennifer, come on in - he's just getting dressed. I have to go, but he'll be out in just a minute. Alex, honey," she called, "Pat and Jennifer are here." With that I heard the front door close. I couldn't believe Mom would do this to me - make me face Pat and Jen so soon after last night! I grabbed my pants off the bed and put them on, then threw a shirt over my nightie and tucked it all in. As I was trying desperately to button the shirt, I glanced in my mirror and realized I still had the back of my hair pinned up. Meanwhile, the girls weren't content to wait for me in the living room. They pushed open my door just as I pulled the last pin out of my hair. "Hey, Alex, we can't wait all day for you. We have a real situation we need to tell you about --- ." As Pat caught sight of me she stopped speaking and just looked me up and down. Jennifer pushed past her and came over to where I was standing by the mirror. "I told you that was Alex last night!" She exclaimed. "Look, he still has traces of mascara on his lashes - and look at his eyebrows!" She was almost shouting. I collapsed onto the bed and hid my face in my hands. I knew the rest of my life was over at this point. Pat sat beside me on the bed and took my hands in hers. "I'm sure there's some kind of explanation for all this, Jennifer. It's not really any of our business, I suppose, but - - - do you want to tell us about it, Alex?" I took some comfort in Pat's mild tone, and I tried my best over the next few minutes to explain to the girls about my bargain with Mom and the trick she had played on me. Pat seemed to understand, but Jennifer just stood there with a sarcastic look on her face the whole time. When I fell silent for a moment she let out a disgusted sound. "That all sounds soooo innocent, but how do you explain this?" She pulled at a piece of pink ruffle that was peeking out from under my shirt. "I think our little friend is a queer, Pat. After the friendliness we showed him at Seniors Night, too. We'll never live it down. Are you a queer, Alex?" Strangely, Pat came to my defense. "Jennifer, just back off a little, would you? How Alex dresses for bed is his own business after all - - - unless you're planning to add him to your list of conquests?" I was stung a little by the irony in her tone, though I sensed it was directed at Jennifer and not at me. "Besides, we need his help right now - or did you forget?" Jennifer took a step back from me and sat down on a convenient chair. Pat continued to talk. "Alex, we just got word that our boyfriends found out about Seniors' Night at the park." This was not good news, but my mind brought back images of that night that almost made me smile despite myself. Jennifer, in particular, had been drinking a little, I think, and had become particularly "friendly" in the later evening. "You remember on the boat, just before the tunnel when I looked back and thought I saw someone I knew? Well, the next day one of the girls from our school, Alice is her name, and she's Bill's sister..." Ouch! Bill was Jennifer's Neanderthal boyfriend, and the thought of his jealousy wiped away any inclination to smile. "...anyway, she called Jennifer and mentioned that she was at Seniors' Night and started hinting around about 'didn't she see us there' and 'who got us in' and stuff like that. She was a little confused about the details, but she must have gotten your name from somewhere, because she mentioned 'a kid named Alex. Jennifer tried to cover it up, but I think Alice was still suspicious. So Saturday we got a call from the boys and they were fuming. They said they'd be coming back to town this weekend and they wanted to see 'this kid Alex.' If it's anything like the last time they caught us, we're all in for a beating, but you most of all, Alex." As scared as I was, a part of me was really angry. "Why do you let those guys treat you like that, Pat? If they're so rotten, why do you keep seeing them? Why don't you just tell them to take a hike?" "Easy for you to say, Mr. Sissy." Jennifer shot back. "Why don't you tell them to take a hike and see what you get for your trouble?" Again Pat seemed to be defending me. "Jennifer, back off. But she's right, Alex. We've tried to get rid of them before. They have everyone buffaloed on our side of town. They're these 'Great Sports Gods' to all the adults, with perfect manners and Ivy League recruiters beating down their doors - even Pro recruiters. Meanwhile they threaten us and they beat any guy that even looks twice at us. We hate them, but we don't know what to do. They left school early for their college training camps, and we haven't had a date since. They put the word out that we were still their girls, and that's all it took. Then we heard about Senior's Night, and we heard you were this brain and this wheeler-dealer, and we just thought it would be fun - - - . Well, I know it was really our fault that we got you into this, but - - - well, we were hoping you'd come up with some ideas - - - ." She seemed on the verge of tears and it was probably genuine, but I could see how they had manipulated me - were still using me, in fact. I began to see that they had pretty much set me up for a fall. They had used me to get into Seniors' Night not really caring what might happen later - to them or to me. Of course, I knew at the time that they were going with me only because they couldn't get in any other way. They had offered to help, and I had needed help, so all in all it was really not much more than a simple business relationship. On the other hand, both of them had been very friendly the whole night, and we'd had a lot of laughs. There had even been some cuddling and kissing involved, though it had been done amid laughter and teasing. At any rate, by the end of the evening I had thought we had a pretty good friendship going. The girls had even tried to phone me a couple of times over the last week, but I was going through the hair thing with Mom and had ignored the messages they left. I guess now it was time to "pay the piper" for the good times. It took me a couple of minutes to work all this through in my mind, and it was pretty quiet in the room. Pat was just sitting there with a frown on her face, while Jennifer paced back and forth in front of us. The more I thought about "the boys", the warmer the room seemed to get. Suddenly Pat spoke up. "Would the two of you quit it? I'm trying to think and you're both driving me crazy." Jennifer stopped pacing and glance at me. I had been running my hands through my hair and pulling my hair back and up off my neck, then letting it fall. When Pat spoke I sort of froze with my hands behind my head. Pat's eyes narrowed and her frown began to change into a thin smile. Jennifer and I just looked at her for a couple of minutes. Without saying a word, Pat jumped up and walked into the living room with us following behind her. It was obvious she'd had some kind of bright idea, but she seemed so focussed that she couldn't even hear our questions. She picked up the phone and dialed. "Hello, Alice? This is Pat. Hi. I'm doing okay, but Alice, we got a phone call from the boys Saturday and they were very upset about the Seniors Night thing. Alice, what did you tell them about this kid Alex?" There was a pause, then Pat began to laugh. The laugh was convincing in a way but there didn't seem to be much humor behind it. "Alice, where do you know Alex from?" Another pause. "That's what I thought. Alice, if I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to get Jen and me in trouble. Either that or you need to have your eye presecription changed. Alex will be a little upset when SHE finds out you mistook HER for a guy. I don't think the boys will find it too funny either." Pat glanced up at me when she said that. I had no idea what was going through Pat's mind, but I didn't like what I was hearing. "That's right, Alice, that was a girl you saw with us on Seniors' Night." She paused to listen for a minute and her smile turned to a frown. "Are you serious? Look, even if we weren't already spoken for, do you think we'd -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /