Lady of the Rings
by Brandy Dewinter and Ellen Hayes
(All rights reserved)
Chapter 11 - By The Prickling Of My Thumbs . . .
Build 5
Now it was my turn to be bustled by Sarah. She pushed me back into
the tiny cubicle and wiggled her hands in a way that made it clear I was
once again to undress.
"Just down to your underwear, hun, you can wear it with this out-
fit." Thank God for small favors. Very small favors. What had the
world come to when I was grateful for the privilege of wearing panties
and a bra?
The next items to come sailing over the cubicle wall were my go-go
boots. Sarah's voice followed them, "Those will work under the long
skirt as well as anything, now come out here and let me help you."
Since the racks of clothes didn't allow room to breathe anywhere
between the cubicle and the space at the doorway, I figured I had to go
all the way to the front. She had closed the door though, so I was only
exposed to her (now that's a relief, having a woman look at me wearing
panties and a bra, *not*).
The first thing she held up to me was a corset. An old-fashioned,
lace-up-the-back corset. A dress was bad enough, but that thing was
ridiculous. And unnecessary. One thing I was not was fat around the
waist. A week of living in the dorm trailer with the other girls had
showed me I was not fat, not even my the standards of athletic young
women. My refusal showed on my face, but Sarah headed it off even before
I spoke.
"Don't worry!" she insisted. "This is not to make you skinnier, it's
to give you a smooth line so that the dress fits. It will do wonders for
your posture, but we don't have to tighten it enough to be uncomfor-
table."
She twirled her fingers and when I turned, wrapped the thing around
me. True to her word, it was only snugged up to a sort of continuous hug
level. I'd had tighter embraces from Cindy (believe me, I remembered
every touch from her). I could see immediately what she meant about
posture, though. I had to hold my entire upper body stiffly erect, or
rather, the corset held my upper body for me. In any event, no slou-
ching.
It turned out that the rest of the costume wasn't really a dress,
but a long skirt and some sort of short-waisted jacket top. The colors
were a deep red that even I could see worked pretty well with my blacker-
than-midnight hair. With typical whirlwind energy, Sarah dabbed potions
and paints on my face and was hustling me out the door to the big mirror.
This time there was a crowd. I almost turned back into the trailer,
but Sarah had the doorway blocked. Our motion got people's attention
though, and all of a sudden, applause broke out. Like cholera. Everyone
laughed and cheered and clapped like it was a cause for celebration. It
took a minute for me to realize they weren't laughing at me, but for me
in shared happiness. Except, I didn't share it.
Then I noticed that Sarah had disappeared back into the trailer.
Once again I was about to follow her and hide, but people I barely knew
were shepherding me over to the biggest of the new paintings of the
princess.
The resemblance was amazing. The princess in the painting had the
same too-sharp nose, the same pointy chin, and even the same deep blue
eyes. Since Sarah had selected the costume after she saw the paintings,
it wasn't a coincidence that the dress matched at least in color, but it
was surprising to see similarities even in the design of inconsequen-
tials, like the cut of the collar.
Just then, Jim showed up in his armor. He didn't . . . quite . .
clank, but it was clear he was even more stiffly held in his costume
than I was in mine. The crowd herded him over to stand by me under the
painting and pulled his visor down. Someone else yanked out the clip
that was holding my hair and then everyone got surprisingly quiet.
"Unbelievable," someone finally murmured. That set off the crowd
and comments came buzzing in from all sides. It couldn't have looked
more like us if we'd posed for the artist. The girl in the picture had
hair that cascaded down just as long as mine, just as deeply black. The
knight was just as much taller than the princess as Jim was over me. The
style of armor matched, again down to inconsequentials, and of course
both knights' faces were hidden behind lowered visors.
It was unreal. I could feel the heavy hand of Andreas in this.
Subtle was definitely not his middle name. Or maybe I underestimated
him. I knew this couldn't all be a simple coincidence, but if you didn't
know about magic it would have seemed like one. What other things that I
put down to coincidence were also his hidden manipulations? My suspi-
cions flared anew, but were interrupted by a comment that had my name in
it.
"Oh, Bree, you're lovely, so regal!" gushed Kim. If Jim or any
other guy had said it, I'd have decked him. But from Kim it clearly
wasn't a pass. She truly thought I looked good in that outfit.
And she wasn't the only one. Choruses of agreement flooded in from
all sides. People really thought I was pretty, or at least, elegant.
Regal. Maybe that's what Sarah meant all along, not girl-next-door
pretty, but something that wasn't so bad. For the first time since my
transformation I really wanted to see myself in a mirror, but now another
problem intruded.
"Show the Colonel!" someone called, and like most mob ideas it had
two characteristics. First, it was a bad idea; and second, it caught on
in a heartbeat. A lane formed through the crowd in the direction of the
Colonel's RV and all of the sudden Jim was holding out his arm like some
fancy courtier. In your dreams, buster, I thought, but he just held it
there.
I knew I was irritated, almost irrationally, and Jim was a handy
target to insult by ignoring his arm, but some part of me still hated to
insult someone with no good cause. I might be pretty easy to convince
that someone deserved it, but there had to be some basic justification
other than just because I wanted to. Jim's only fault was that he was a
fat-headed fool with a crush on me. While that might be a capital of-
fense if I ruled the world, it wasn't apparent to anyone else that it
was wrong at all. Besides, I had promised to give this lady fair costume
a try and taking Jim's arm seemed to be an expected part of it. Reluc-
tantly, with just the tips of my fingers (though that seemed to fit the
role better than I intended), I laid my hand on top of his and we started off.
"Take good care of your princess, Jimbo!" someone called. Now that
one I would have flattened, but I couldn't tell who it was and before I
could look to see, I felt a blush ignite my cheeks. I certainly wasn't
going to show that fire to everyone so I lifted my head even higher (and
too late realized that just enhanced the nobility of my image as though I
enjoyed playing this silly game) and stalked off.
For about fifteen steps. Then we came to a trailer tongue that was
laying on the ground and I had to step over it. The long skirt didn't
lift with my foot and I could tell that I would end up stepping on it
when I put my foot down again. Jim still had one of my hands so I tried
to lift the front of my skirt with the other. It sort of worked, enough
that I could step over the first obstacle, but I knew that I had a lot to
learn about this outfit. Figuring out a way to get over the thing had
screwed up my stride and I found myself actually leaning a little weight
on Jim's arm. So that's how that practice got started, way back when
women's styles were even more ludicrous than today.
Jim, on the other hand (or was that the hand I was already talking
about?), didn't see the tongue at all and kicked it with his foot. He
almost fell and suddenly it was me helping him.
"You better put that visor back up," I directed. He raised his
gauntlet to the thing, lifted it, and looked down to see what he had
kicked. Looking down caused the visor to slam back down before his face
again. He raised it, held it, and looked again, this time finishing his
observation.
Once we got reorganized he stepped over the first obstacle and we
started forward again. For about a half a dozen steps, then we got to a
set of muddy cables and a puddle.
"Allow me, milady," he said, then swept me up into his arms just like
in the movies, before I even had time to protest.
Well, not quite like in the movies. For one, as soon as he let go
of his visor, it slammed down again. For another, that damn armor was
hard and it had hinges and knobs and overlapping pieces that worked quite
well as a clamp to pinch my oversized bottom.
"Put me down!" I demanded. He complied as soon as we were past the
puddle, then raised his visor again. His smile was a sight to behold, as
was the rapidity of transition to worried frown when he saw my face.
"Don't you EVER do that again!" I ordered. It was only after I got
the words out that I realized my hands were rubbing my surely-bruised
bottom. I jerked them away from my butt and put my hands on my hips.
"Look, Jim, this is stupid enough without you trying to be some
sort of hero. I can do quite well by myself, thank you!"
His face was back to puppy-dog sadness, but I didn't care. However,
when he once again offered his arm I decided to give him credit for a
good heart if not much brains, and once again laid my hand lightly on
his. He led us out into the main midway rather than continuing to pick
our way through the clutter behind the tents, and we resumed our progress
toward the Colonels' trailer.
"Oh, Mommy, look! It's a princess and her handsome knight."
The call came from a little girl, I figured about eight years old.
Her mother had the frazzled look of parents everywhere. They were both
standing on the other side of the temporary fence since the circus wasn't
open for business, yet. The look in the mother's eyes was clearly a plea
for us to come over and I've always been a sucker for kids. With a small
pressure on his hand, I let Jim know we should move that way.
"Hello, young lady," Jim said, the tones sounding deep and mechani-
cal from inside his visor.
"Hello, Mister Knight," the little girl replied.
"That's Sir Knight," her mother corrected her, but gently, playing
along with the girl's interest.
"Sir Knight," the girl corrected herself, then continued breath-
lessly to me. "Are you really a princess? You look like one."
"Thank you," I answered, feeling a blush on my cheeks. I was about
to deny it, but I felt a squeeze on my hand from Jim. This was what the
Colonel had in mind for us and I almost forgot. It caused me to let go
of his hand, though. I had forgotten for a moment that I was holding
hands with a guy. His little squeeze was entirely too intimate for my
peace of mind.
I tried to bend down to talk to the girl, but was held erect by the
stiff corset. Instead, I bent my legs while holding my upper body re-
gally upright (like I had any choice). My knees started to bow out as
they bent, but that caused the soft skirt to start drooping between my
legs and that looked obscene, somehow. I gathered up my skirt, glued
my knees together and turned them slightly to the side as I finally got
low enough to look directly at the little girl. Stalling for time while
I tried to adjust to these clothes, I asked, "What's your name?"
"Caitlin," she answered, after looking at her mother to make sure
it was okay.
"Well, Caitlin, circuses are magical places. Sometimes just ordi-
nary people can be princesses here, or knights in shining armor. You'll
have to come back and see if the magic works for you." There, that ought
to satisfy the Colonel. It wasn't nearly as untrue as I would have once
thought, either.
"But you're so beautiful," she said in awe. "I could never be as
beautiful as you."
"Of course you can," I assured her. "Why, just a little while ago,
you wouldn't have thought I was beautiful at all." Now that's a fact!.
She didn't look like she believed it, but her mother smiled thanks,
anyway. "What's your name?"
I hadn't thought of yet another name, feminine again, damn it, but
there had been a princess in last book I'd read. That had been in An-
dreas' aerie and I wondered if there were any real coincidences left in
my world. "Isolde."
"Then you must be Sir Tristam," the mother said with another smile.
She was saying she wasn't as simple as she looked and I respected her
for that. It was Jim that didn't understand my reference. Not that I
wanted him to. If I'd have had time to think, I certainly wouldn't have
picked the name of one of the second greatest pair of lovers in all
chivalry. Especially not while I was standing next to a guy dressed
like a knight who also had a crush on me. Stupid! Still, it was done
and I certainly wasn't going to explain it to him. Probably no one else
at the circus would catch the reference, either. Hope that springs
eternal from the human . . no, don't go there.
We waved at the little girl and turned once again to go toward the
Colonel's office. Once we were away from our fans, Jim raised his visor.
I could see that he had been sweating pretty profusely.
"Damn, this thing is hot. Did you know there's a padded layer under
the armor? I might as well be wearing a winter coat, even aside from
this ton of metal." Clank! His visor accented his comment. I tried to
stifle a snort.
"Well, Sir Knight, faint heart never won . . ." Stop! Not another
word along that line. Not now, not ever, never! God, I could be stupid
sometimes. The part of me that knew the standard lines was blurting them
out before the part of me that remembered my situation realized the im-
plications. Duct tape, I thought darkly...
Thankfully we soon reached the Colonel's office. He waved us in and
stood up to take a look at us.
"Very good. You two look very good. Turn around."
Bad idea. I was able to turn in place pretty well, but the sword
that had been hanging out behind Jim swept first through the things piled
on a nearby chair, then whacked me on my too-big butt. I swear, I was
going to get a wide-load sign and hang it back there. Finally, after
grabbing his sword and holding it parallel to his leg, Jim finished his
graceless pirouette.
The Colonel moved back around to his desk and looked directly at me.
"Well, Brittany, I've been meaning to have a talk with you anyway. Tom
Highland tells me you're the best assistant he's ever had in his dog act.
And Jim tells me you know as much about the 'round as he does."
With that second comment, a smile lifted his lean face, "Though
I'm not sure his opinion is entirely objective." That smile remained
and it was clear he didn't think there was anything wrong with that.
Argh! I wondered if he'd think my opinion was entirely objective or not
if I launched all over his desk. Thank whoever was watching that I
hadn't had any breakfast that morning or I for sure would have.
"Anyway, on the basis of their recommendations I've decided to give
you a raise. From now on you make ten dollars an hour base." Whoa.
That put rather a different face on things. "However," he continued,
"you don't get anything extra anymore for working with Tom. Still, on
the basis of the way you look in that dress I'll bump it a couple of
bucks for every hour you're in costume, either your show outfit or this
princess thing. Don't tell anyone else though, because I'm going to make
everyone do it and no one else is getting extra for it."
Then he looked at Jim and corrected himself, "Except Jim. That
armor must be even more uncomfortable than it looks. I'll bump your pay,
too, but you only wear that thing when you're on display." He made
shooing motions. "Now, both of you get changed and get back to work.
We open tomorrow!"
With that obvious dismissal, Jim turned around (carefully this
time) and waved to me to go out first. I managed to get down the steps
without falling and was about to just head off on my own when he clat-
tered down beside me and once again offered his arm. I sighed, the first
of many more to come, and laid my own upon his once more.
The trip back was quicker since we were learning how to handle our
costumes and in minutes we were back at Sarah's trailer. She was the
only one around and she dropped the laundry she was working on when she
saw us coming.
"Oh, good, you're back. What did the Colonel say?"
"He liked the outfits," Jim beamed.
"Of course he would," Sarah confirmed.
Then continued, "But Bree, dear, yours isn't complete."
She turned to a small table and took out a dunce cap just like the
one in the paintings, complete with flowing pennant attached to the top.
"Now, we really need to do your hair for this, since it should be
set off with a neat little pageboy wave, but this will do for now."
She placed the dunce cap on my head and it felt just about appro-
priate. I was certainly acting stupid for letting her get me into this.
Arranging the pennant so it draped down the back, she stood back.
"One last touch," Sarah announced. "The last time we used this cos-
tume a fan gave something to the girl who was wearing it, telling her to
leave it with the costume until the time was right for another to wear
it. I guess that time is now."
With that, she opened a small box and took out a ring. It was on
my finger before I realized what she had. As soon as it was in place,
sensations crashed in on my mind from all directions, feeding back into
a spiraling overload that caused all my systems to crash. I blacked out.
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