Lady of the Rings
by Brandy Dewinter and Ellen Hayes
(All rights reserved)
Chapter 20 - Two Times A Lady
Build 4
Kim was all over me as soon as I got one painful foot in the doorway
to the dorm trailer.
"How'd it go? Did you meet him? What's he like? You look gor-
geous! What's in the bag? Did you actually buy that dress?"
I froze in my tracks as her energy assaulted me. She was asking
questions too fast for me to even get a word in edgewise and I just
waited for her to catch her breath. It helped, though. Her bouncing
enthusiasm made my own racing heart seem almost calm, which was a step
on getting my pulse back to a sustainable level. I had been so tense
throughout lunch with Buck that it was only when I found myself in the
role of the calm party to a conversation that I realized just how tense I
had been.
"Slow down, girl," I ordered with a laugh. "You can't even hear
yourself at that speed, let alone me."
She had taken the bag with my new dress in it even as she was chat-
tering and already had it unzipped enough to confirm her suspicion. I
let her look, not yet answering her questions, just trying to find my own
equilibrium again.
"Oh, Bree, it's so beautiful. I just knew you'd like it," her
enthusiasm for clothes momentarily won out over her curiosity about my
"date". I didn't think I'd ever get that enthusiastic about something to
wear, but it was a nice dress. While she was working it out of the bag I
went to my bunk and slipped the heels off my feet with a profound sigh of
relief.
She was about to hold it up to herself before the mirror when she
remembered the real purpose for my trip into town.
"How'd it go? Did you meet him?" What's . . ." this time she
braked herself to a halt with an embarrassed grin as she realized she
was just repeating herself.
"Yes, I met him," I began. "He's a nice guy, not stuck up on him-
self or anything. We had lunch together and just talked."
"What's he like?" she asked again.
"I told you, a nice guy," I repeated.
"No, what's he *look* like?" she demanded. I hadn't thought girls
were as interested in appearance as guys typically were.
"Well, he's got brown hair and eyes, nothing special. He looks
more like a marathon runner than a football player. He's in pretty good
shape."
"How tall is he?" the interrogation continued, with a demand for
the characteristic that was so important about men.
"He must be a bit over six feet," I figured. "I'm almost that tall
in those heels and he was a bit taller than me."
"Sounds like a perfect match," she grinned, then began to dance
around the room holding my dress like it was her partner. Then she
froze.
"So, when do you see him again?"
Now it was my turn to show a bit of embarrassment. Her assurance
that I had made another date was so solid that it was really sort of
flattering. No doubt in her mind that he would have been interested
enough in me to ask me out again.
"Thursday. He asked me out to dinner."
"Thursday! But we leave town on Thursday. You can't be in town
Thursday night."
"I'll just have to catch up, later," I said, while I thought that
I'd just have to decide what I would really do. How long would I stay
with the circus? The thought of leaving was too much to handle right
then. All my friends were in the circus, good friends that had given me
much and not asked for anything in return. Could I just walk out on
them?
By this time I had changed into my jeans and was ready to go to
work. I was scheduled for a run through with Tom and the dogs before
the evening show and I knew I had been neglecting my share of carousel
maintenance. Kim was putting the dress away as we talked and left for
her own duties.
It was almost a relief to get done with those chores. For the first
time since I'd been in the circus, I was actually looking forward to
getting dressed in my princess outfit. It gave me the justification I
needed for cleaning up from the dirty grease that was always all over the
carousel mechanism. I had an early and a late shift on the 'round that
night, with a quick change into my show costume for a performance in
between. Everything went pretty well and Jim was helping me close down
for the night when the Colonel appeared, trailed by most of the carnies.
The others accumulated over the next few minutes as the runners he
had sent out swept the grounds for the rest of the personnel. Since the
carousel was pretty centrally located (maybe that was why the costume
trailer was always parked close by), it was often the scene for announce-
ments.
"All right, people, listen up," the Colonel began in his ringmaster
voice. "Tonight was the last performance here in Pensacola, as we
planned. We've knocked the rough edges off our acts and everything is
in working order. Anybody disagree with that?"
He paused for a moment, got the silence he expected, then continued,
"We're booked into the convention center in Atlanta starting Friday
night. We break things down tomorrow and travel most of the way, that's
Thursday. On Friday, we arrive and set up for our first performance
Friday night. It's a tight schedule, but I know we can do it. If anyone
has a problem, let me know. If not, get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow
will be a busy day and a long night on the road."
He nodded in a general sort of dismissal and headed back to his own
RV. Kim and I looked at each other. Her face showed dismay at the
thought I might be leaving the circus. Mine probably looked about the
same. The omniscient Sarah picked up on our concern and gathered us both
into her trailer so smoothly it seemed to have a magic of its own.
"Alright, what's going on?" she demanded.
Kim just looked at me. I looked at her, at the floor, at the cos-
tumes, at the door, at everything except Sarah.
"Brittany?" Sarah was relentless.
"I have a, um, date for Thursday night."
"So, you did meet your gentleman friend?" a rhetorical question
that didn't even need my brief nod for an answer.
"Do you intend to leave the circus?" There it was, right out. What
should I say? What should I do?
"Maybe I can catch up," I offered, avoiding the decision.
Sarah studied me for a long moment. I suppose I could have used
her aura to get an insight into what she was thinking, but it seemed
dishonest to spy on a friend. Besides, my eyes weren't too clear right
then, if eyes had anything to do with that perception.
Finally, my surrogate mother nodded her head abruptly, "Maybe you
can."
I didn't know exactly what her resolution meant, but at least she
wasn't going to make a scene. Then she surprised me by offering to help.
"Okay, Brittany, I'll arrange a ride into town for you. We leave
about noon, maybe a little later. You be ready to go by no later than
12:00. I'll cover for you for one night. If you make it to Atlanta by
2:00 on Friday, you'll still have a job."
Nodding submissively, I turned to go. Kim followed, her own
eyes shining much too brightly. We made our way to the dorm trailer
in silence, trying not to damage our fragile hope that things would be
okay.
The next morning started out much too early, but then all mornings
did that. I started right in helping Jim get the carousel packed for
travel. A little before noon, Sarah showed up.
"Jim, can you spare Bree for the rest of the day? I have some
things I need her for."
He nodded and Sarah continued to me in a natural tone that I knew
I couldn't have matched, "Bree, go get cleaned up. Let me know when
you're ready."
Ready. I didn't know what I wanted that to mean. Ready to leave
the circus forever, taking my meager supply of clothes, and my flute,
and, well, whatever I had? Or ready for an overnight? There weren't
any answers in the shower and none came spewing forth with the hot air of
the hair dryer. Even brushing my hair into reasonable order didn't tell
me what to do.
Finally, a quotation from somewhere came to me, not quite exact,
but the application was clear, "Naked we come into this world, and naked
we shall leave it." I had showed up with the clothes on my back, I could
manage with only a little more.
From somewhere Sarah had scrounged me a backpack. In it went a
single change of clothes, underwear included, plus the things I needed
for my date. And my flute. That was my compromise. With it and the
money I had left, I could cope a lot better than when I started out.
Leaving behind the rest of my clothes was a lot less painful than leaving
the memories would be. I gathered up my backpack and the bag with my new
dress, and left the dorm trailer.
Sarah saw me step down and waved me over.
"I hope you find what you're looking for, Brinny. Your ride's over
at the parking lot. One of the guys will drop you off in town. Good
luck."
The flat statements were just too cold for me, too distant. I set
my things down with exaggerated care, not seeing too clearly again, and
turned to Sarah for a hug that might have to last a lifetime. I would
have gotten stuck there but in a few moments Sarah pulled back, wiping at
her own eyes. She waved at me in a dismissive sort of way that I knew
was mostly faked, but I picked my stuff up again and headed to the lot.
I was almost there when I saw Kim snuffling next to the last trailer
before the open expanse of concrete.
"You weren't going to go away without even saying good-bye, were
you?" she accused.
"I don't want it to be good-bye," I tried to excuse myself. "I'll
catch up."
"Sure," she said, not believing it for a second. At that point,
neither did I.
The pickup was waiting so I gave her a quick hug while still holding
my bags. Her arms were free though, and she clutched at me so tightly I
almost reconsidered.
Almost. I wiggled to be let go after a few seconds and then moved
briskly to the waiting truck. Only after I was inside did I look back at
her, still watching. I waved softly, trying to dredge up a smile while
she did the same. Neither smile worked very well, but the driver had the
truck moving before we could make another effort.
I was so spent by the emotions that had been hammering me that I
didn't even pay much attention to where he was going. I hadn't really
figured out how I would change clothes, but I couldn't leave the circus
wearing that fancy dress. It turned out that Sarah was looking out for
me, still. The driver dropped me off at a nice hotel, far enough from
the beach that the prices might not be too outrageous. Of course, get a
hotel room and "primp" as much as necessary. It would give me a credible
place to come back to after dinner, and a place to sleep before trying to
decide whether to chase the circus in the morning. That's what hotels
were for, dummy. I could almost hear her chortling at my surprise.
I got a look of disdain from the desk clerk as I walked up in my
jeans and hiking boots. When he saw the label on the clothes bag I
carried though, he got a lot more polite.
"Can I help you?"
"I hope so. I'd like a room."
"Name?" he asked as he went to his list of reservations. Maybe
Sarah had made one for me. Probably.
"Brittany Janeway."
"Ah, yes, Miss Janeway. If you'll sign here, please," he began the
standard administrivia of his profession. I was surprised though, when I
was about to walk off with my key card.
"Oh, yes, Miss Janeway, your appointment is at 2:30," he called out
to me.
"Appointment?"
"Why yes, you have an appointment at our beauty salon for 2:30."
Dummy, his unspoken label resounded in his aura.
"Oh, yes, that appointment." Not a very good recovery. Well, eat
me, bastard. I had gotten used to the people at the circus who looked
after their own. This supercilious SOB reminded me of all the petty
bureaucrats I had ever met. It's a good thing those types don't have
to survive on tips. Or maybe a bad thing.
I turned away to the elevators and went up to my room. There was
just time to take care of necessary business before I headed down to the
mezzanine floor and found the beauty parlor.
This was the first time I'd ever been in one, at least since I was
about six years old and still hooked to my mother's coattails. I had
forgotten about the smells.
There wasn't a line at the receptionist's desk. I considered that
a bad sign. I've never had good luck at hotel facilities, neither res-
taurants nor shops nor whatever. Something about captive audiences, I
expect. Anyway, I was a bit worried about what my appointment might
entail.
"Yes?" the blonde behind the counter looked like that was a pretty
large part of her vocabulary.
"Brittany Janeway. I think I have an appointment."
She just nodded. Speaking and nodding at the same time were pro-
bably too much for her. Standing and nodding seemed a bit much, too,
because she didn't start to move until her head rattle had quit bobbing.
Eventually she was leading me back to a woman that had to be named Madge.
She looked just like the lady from the TV commercial.
"Hi, my name is Sandy," she said. So much for first impressions.
It didn't matter what her real name was, I just knew my fingers would
be in some sort of dishwashing liquid in another second.
Wrong again. Sandy continued, "I understand you're just here for
a wash and set, and a makeover?"
Like I knew. Well, it sounded about right, so I nodded.
"How about a facial while we're at it? Special today, half price
with a makeover. We can do it while your hair is drying."
With that I surrendered to her ministrations. She chattered on
enough that I didn't have to carry much of the conversational load, just
answer a few questions. What was the occasion? A date (and how did that
ever happen?). Where were we going? Dinner. Where? I didn't know.
What was I wearing? A blue dress. What shade of blue? Yada, yada,
yada. Appropriate comments about how beautiful my hair was. Women
seemed to be a bloodthirsty lot, all willing to kill for someone else's
hair, or figure, or whatever else they couldn't really have. At one
point a book with hairstyles was brought out. I almost said, Just do
something nice with it, but I got scared all of a sudden that I would
end up looking like the blond in front. No way. So I looked through the
book and tried to find someone who looked like me. Or looked like this
body. I found one towards the back. The model was cute - and smiling -
which I wasn't.
The style in the book was a sort of upswept thing, with a couple of
tentacles hanging down. At some level I thought that Cochran, Buck,
would like it. I knew I would have on someone else, like the girl in the
picture. I didn't know enough about women's hairstyles to describe it,
but I could tell it would be cool and elegant.
The clock seemed to fly by. I don't know whether it was Madge's
(oops, Sandy's) constant chatter or the unusual sensations, but it seemed
like we were done pretty quickly though it actually took a couple of
hours. When I stood up to look in the mirror I was already expecting
to see a stranger. I was right. And wrong. It was me, the new me, the
female me and that always looked like a stranger. However, Sarah was as
good as this lady was with makeup so it really wasn't too much of a sur-
prise. The hair looked different, though. I patted at it as I turned to
the side. Where had that gesture come from? It looked, well, feminine.
So did my hair.
"I'll just put this on your room bill," Sandy promised. Since I
didn't have any clue how I was going to pay for everything, why not?
Hah hah.
Back in my room I decided it was about time to get dressed. The
struggle with underwear and pantyhose and whatever was pretty typical,
right up until the time came to work the zipper in the back of the dress.
Why did they put the zippers in the back? I'd never have made it in my
old body (and wouldn't have had to try) but I had always realized this
female body was marvelously flexible. I could just about turn around and
look at myself from behind so I got it up with only minor expletives.
Add the costume jewelry, one last glance in the mirror to confirm no
real surprises since I had tried on this dress before, and I was out the
door. I had at least enough money for cab fare so I ended up downtown a
little after 5:00.
The first chauvinist guard was again in the lobby of the building.
It was only at that moment that I realized I might have trouble if he
recognized me. Then I decided I didn't look enough like that "lesbo
dyke" for him to care. I certainly didn't feel like a dyke. These
clothes and my new hairstyle and especially my heels actually had me
feeling, well, pretty strange. And definitely not in control of things.
A glance in the glass of the door as I walked up told me I looked entire-
ly different. Almost pr- nah.
Yeah. Pretty.
I walked up to him with the sort of casual nonchalance that still
worked best in those shoes and decided I'd start with a smile. His
return smile was a lot more like a leer, but at least he wasn't getting
ready to throw me out. I just hoped he wouldn't get "fresh". I'd pro-
bably tear the dress if I ripped his arm off and shoved it up his-
"Can I help you, miss?" He was actually polite. Who'd a guessed?
"Brittany Janeway, to see Buck Cochran, he works at Brant, Wheatley,
and Davidson." Well, I could be formal. I still thought he was a pig.
"Of course, Miss Janeway. Go right up." And the hurdle that had
blocked me for over a week was passed that easily.
I got off on the 18th floor and walked to the offices of Brant,
Wheatley, and Davidson as though I owned the floor. It didn't quite
work. Though I looked smooth and sophisticated, a glance in a decorative
mirror showed a girl trying to look like a woman. Or maybe I was just
reading my own aura. I decided to lighten up and just play it as close
to real as I could get.
The office door was held open for me by a man leaving as I ap-
proached. I gave him a nice smile, a simple reward that seemed merely
polite but it made his face break out into a beaming grin. If he'd have
had a hat, he'd have tipped it to me. I felt like I should curtsy. It
brought a blush to my cheeks and I ducked my head as I passed him. Right
about then I wished I'd left my hair down so it would give me something
to hide behind. I also wished my dress had pockets or something. My
left hand was drawn to the second ring so strongly I had to consciously
hold it down. I was in the room!
One of the special duty secretaries was holding down the reception
desk in the outer office of Brant and cohorts. She smiled brightly,
plastic all the way, as I walked up.
"Can I help you, miss?" Real creative people around here.
"Brittany Janeway to see Buck Cochran." Okay, I wasn't any better.
But this was my first time at this; I had an excuse.
"Of course. He's in conference right now but told me to tell you
he'd be out shortly. Can I get you something to drink?"
Here was my chance! As soon as she left the room I could switch the
rings. Be calm! Right, with my blood pressure so high I could see
pulses in the lights with every heartbeat.
"Yes, please. A glass of water would be nice."
The receptionist got up to go to a small break area just inside the
inner door and I walked over to the decorative frieze, oh so casually.
And then it was over. The second magic ring seemed to almost leap
into my hand and I had the replacement in place with just a casual touch,
as though checking the texture of the material. I almost put the second
ring on immediately, but then I remembered what putting the first one on
had done to me. I would have to wait until I had some privacy. Damn!
That was almost worse than being held off by the glass wall of the
office. So close, yet not quite there!
"Hello, Brittany," Buck's voice came from behind me. I squeaked
and jumped.
"I'm sorry," he grinned, not really contrite. Oh, well, I had over-
reacted. Guilt, I guess.
By this time I was turned around, the ring safely in an outside
pocket of my purse.
"Hello, Buck. I hope I'm not too early." Actually, I hoped I was
so early, or so late, that we could call the date off. I had what I
wanted.
"Not at all." So much for that hope. "You look terrific. I'd
make whatever time was necessary, and I'm just ready to go."
Right then the receptionist came up with a glass of water. Buck
waved her off.
"That's okay, Taylor, we're just leaving."
Taylor, huh, another precious, trendy name. Well, who was I to
talk?
Buck gathered me up with a grand gesture and just the barest touch
to my back. In all the time I'd been at the circus, only three men had
touched me except maybe being bumped in a crowd. The first had been Tom,
whose handshake had first seemed hot, then not hot but still strange
somehow. The second had been the pig who had grabbed me and tried to-
no, don't go there. Buck was the third. His touch was the lightest, but
it seemed to send electric shocks from the small of my back both ways
through my spine. I know I twitched but I covered it by swinging my
purse. At least, I think I covered it, but Buck moved his hand.
I must have covered my twitch, because once we were through the
doorway his hand was again lightly touching my back, again sending funny
little signals through my overwrought nerves. I concentrated on walking,
a necessity in those heels anyway, and managed to make it to the elevator
despite the weakness in my knees. This was not going well!
"How's your business trip going?" Buck asked politely. Always
polite. Focus on that.
"Fine." That's me, the brilliant conversationalist. Right then I
couldn't seem to put together a cohesive sentence in English, let alone
the four or five other languages I claimed to be able to speak.
This man is a gentleman, not like that guy on the circus grounds.
The funny feeling is just because his hand is hotter than your back. I
kept talking to myself and after a while it began to work. Or maybe it
really was a temperature thing, because in a few minutes I only felt the
pressure of his hand, not anything electric.
Not much, anyway.
If I thought about something else.
"So how was your day?" I asked. Oh, God.
"Fine, fine," he nodded.
Oh, God, this was going to be horrible. I could see the signs al-
ready. If I'd dated more, I might have an idea of what to do-
The elevator dinged to announce the ground floor and the doors
swished open. We both started out at the same time and almost ran into
each other. "Sorry!" "Sorry!" He smiled at me and swept his hand in
front of us. I went first this time and we made it out of the elevator
alive.
"I guess you don't know Pensacola very well." I shook my head.
"Well," Buck continued, "there's a place on Summit that has pretty good
seafood- do you like seafood?"
"Um, yeah, pretty much." There wasn't much chance to get really
fresh seafood where I grew up so it was a treat.
His aura showed that he was beginning to strain so I desperately
leaped at something. "Um, sorry I'm nervous, I, I, uh..." I sighed my
sigh again. "I was in town for a job interview and they told me they
didn't want me, so I'm feeling kind of, kind of-"
"Oh, I'm sorry," he interrupted, which was fine because I was having
trouble putting into words how I would feel if I'd been turned down for a
job. "Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt," he added.
"It's okay. Um, anyway, so, so... so I'm feeling kind of rejected,
and weird, and a little angry, and," and frightened and disoriented
because this isn't my body and, "and just not myself." Heh.
"You seemed a little out of sorts compared to the last time I saw
you," he observed. It took me a second to realize that that was also
the first time he saw me and the only time he'd seen me.
"Yeah, I..." I ran out again.
"What job were you applying for?" he asked.
Oh, damn, I should have done this better, oh shit I have no idea,
um, wait, something was surfacing- "There's this place called Bruno Com-
munications," I must've heard an ad for it or something, "and I, they
wanted a network administrator with Java and HTML experience and so I
applied, and they asked me to come for an interview but then they hired
someone with, oh, about three times the experience I had. So..." I
shrugged. And tried not to pant. Lying on the fly like this was hard
work.
He lifted an eyebrow and I was scared suddenly that he was going to
say he owned it or his brother did or that they had gone bankrupt or
something, but all he said was, "Bruno?"
"I'm not making this up!" I insisted. I knew I had heard or seen
an ad for them somewhere.
"I didn't say you were!" he insisted. By then I noticed we were
outside. I hadn't even seen the security guard. What a relief. I
WOULD have liked to see him call me a dyke now, though...
He stopped, and turned to face me and I wasn't relieved any more.
"Um," he said nervously. I checked his aura again, and he was indeed
nervous. That made me feel better. "So, is seafood okay with you, or
we could go someplace else if you wanted..." He was looking at his
shoes, and really feeling... bad anticipation, like, like...
Like he was afraid of being rejected.
"Seafood would be fine, Buck." He looked up at me, and smiled. He
looked pretty good when he smiled. I found myself smiling back at him.
He gave a little cough, and looked at his watch. "Uh, well, I made
reservations for six. We should be able to get there by then. Do you
have a car?" He was still nervous and talking fast in an attempt to
cover it up. This aura reading was kind of amusing.
"Um, no. Not here," I amended, "I flew down. Can we go in yours?"
He nodded, like I expected, and started walking down the sidewalk.
"So you didn't rent a car?" he asked.
"No, I, uh..." I remembered that I was going to try and keep it as
simple as possible. "They won't rent cars to people under twenty-five."
"Really?"
"I'm not making this up. Either." He glanced at me, like he wasn't
sure if I was mad or not, and I had to laugh. "No, really."
"So how old are you?"
I was about to tell him when I realized that I would probably scare
him off if I said I was nineteen. Older guys had a great fear of statu-
tory rape and if I SAID I was nineteen, he'd probably want me to prove
it... "Oh," I repeated casually, "under twenty five."
He looked at me, and I looked straight back at him until he realized
that I wasn't going to answer him. His aura looked interesting; I guess
I hadn't annoyed him TOO much. Instead, he asked, "Going to college?" I
nodded at that. "What are you majoring in?"
Shovelling elephant shit was my immediate thought, but it was giving
too much away, as well as untrue. I dealt with dog shit. I stifled a
sigh and replied, "Um, computer science,"
"You're already applying for jobs?"
"Yeah, well, I thought I'd give it a shot. It pays more than scho-
larships. Or it would have."
"Mmmm." He glanced at me, his aura showing... something. "Brit-
tany, I know we just met but if you could take some advice... wait until
you're a little further along before you worry about getting a job?" I
should have recognized what it looked like - Sarah showed something
similar a lot when she was speaking to me.
"Well, I thought... I don't know what I was thinking, but I thought
I might get lucky. I DO know what I'm doing around a CPU," I emphasized.
I didn't want him to think I was a twit.
"Well," he said, his aura still showing what I guessed was a mascu-
line version of Sarah's mothering, "most employers want the degree too."
I shrugged. "It was a shot, anyway."
"I didn't mean to put you down," he said, showing some embarrassment
again. "I'm sure it took a lot to go all the way from, from wherever-
where do you live, by the way?"
"Um." Keep it simple, I reminded myself. "Texas. Fort Worth."
"From Forth Worth for a job interview," he continued smoothly.
"Yeah, well." Now I was embarrassed. "So what's this restaurant
like?"
He chuckled at my transparent attempt to get the conversation off
my insanity. "It's a pretty nice place. Kind of touristy, though."
"That's okay, I'm a tourist. Sort of. Is the food good?"
"If you like seafood, it is. If not..." He shrugged, his hands
now in his pockets. "Well, I've never tried anything else there,
actually."
"Oh. Okay." There was a pause in the conversation and I tried to
think of something to get it going again.
"So-" "What-" we both started at the same time, conversationally
collided, and stopped. "Sor-" "Sorry!" He was embarrassed again and
trying to cover it up. I snorted and motioned for him to go first.
"No, you say-"
"Nooooo, you first. You're driving," which didn't really make
sense but I added it anyway.
He almost stopped walking at that, but I didn't so he just sort of
hesitated for half a beat then caught up. "Soooo..." he started slowly
and I nodded to encourage him. "So why are you applying for a job in
Pensacola when you live in Texas?"
"Um. I like the ocean," which was true, "and I like planes," which
was also true, "so I thought, maybe..." I shrugged. "And the company
name caught my eye."
"I imagine it did," he agreed. Then he glanced sideways at me.
"Are you sure you're not making that name up?"
"I swear, Buck, it's in the phone book!" I hoped. But he wasn't
interested in that, I saw - he was yanking my chain. "Buck! Stop that!"
He chuckled, then stopped. "What?" I wondered if I had been too asser-
tive or something, but his aur- He pulled his keys out of his pocket.
"Here's my baby," he said proudly. His car was a 300ZX, one of the
pre-90 models, and painted a deep green.
"Nice," I said truthfully. He walked around to the driver's door
and opened it and slid in. After a few seconds I saw his hand fumble
at the door lock and it popped open. I hesitated for a second, planning
ahead how to look graceful. This took a little more work than I was used
to. Finally, I stepped to the door, turned around and sat down, pulling
the skirt forward with one hand, and spun in the seat while tucking my
legs inside. And then I was in with my skirt about where it should have
been, and my attention back on him. He looked happy. "So can I drive
it?" I asked, and grinned to show him I wasn't serious. His aura started
to swirl, but cleared when I smiled at him. Obviously, this car was one
of the prizes in his life and he wasn't fool enough to trust it to
someone he'd just met. Hell, he didn't even know if I had a driver's
license. Even though Andreas had given me one as a reward for getting
the first ring, it was absolutely all the identification I had so I
couldn't really blame him.
I started to shut the door but my over-weighted body had grounded
it on the curb. "Uh, we're stuck," I said, preparing to get out.
"Wait, just sit tight for a second," he ordered, then opened his
door. I was going to tell him that his getting out would only make the
problem worse when he slid partway out of the seat and stood on the edge
of the frame, leaning outwards while hanging onto the roof with his arms.
"Try it now," he suggested, and when I did my door shut easily. He slid
back in and grinned at me. I grinned back.
"The only thing I got out of physics," he said, stuck the key in the
ignition and started the car in one smooth motion. It purred gently and
sounded like it had been tuned up a bit. I started fumbling for my seat
belt, while he waited until it clicked into place before he started to
pull out.
He was a good driver and didn't try to show off the power of his
car. I did feel the turbo kick in a couple of times, but it was pretty
smooth. I don't think he was doing it to impress me.
The conversation was light again. He asked me if I'd seen the
comics today, and I had to admit that I hadn't. Things had been kind of
rushed this morning...
Comics led to old jokes, and old jokes led to old television shows,
and then we were pulling into a parking lot. I was a little surprised
at how fast the trip had gone.
He pulled up to the front door and a valet stepped forward. I
blinked at this, then started to worry a little as I realized what that
was going to mean in terms of the bill. Then I remembered his attitude
about lunch on Tuesday and relaxed. He'd picked the place and paid then,
and he'd picked the place this time. So, almost certainly he was going
to pick up the tab this time too.
The valet stepped to my side and opened my door before I was ready.
It took me a few seconds to collect my wits and then swing my legs out-
board and try to stand up. The valet stuck his hand out and I gratefully
took it to pull myself upright. Then I stepped out of the way as the
valet shut my door and walked around to Buck, where they had a few
seconds of conversation before Buck gave him the keys and walked around
towards me.
"Did I mention you look gorgeous tonight?" was his next statement.
"What?"
"You do, you look... fabulous." His aura said he was sincere, too.
"Uh, I, uh, um." I took a breath. I meant to thank him like I was
sort of used to comments like that, but it came out, "Thanks?" Well, I
felt like a twit now...
He laughed, which did not make me feel better, and placed a hand on
my back and steered me towards the front door. "Not used to compli-
ments?" he observed.
"Um, no. I don't usually dress this fancy," I admitted.
"Well, you do it quite well when you do, if you were wondering."
He glanced at me as a doorman - oh, please God don't make me pay for
dinner tonight - held the door for us while Buck ushered me inside. I
could feel my face getting red.
Luckily, Buck was immediately occupied with confirming his reser-
vation with the maitre d', and then we were being led to our table. The
place looked fairly low-key, with lots of dark wood, but the carpet was
nice and it was carpet - no quick mop-up after closing for this place.
The people already seated were dressed at least as well as Buck was. In
spite of my worries about the evening and everything else, I started to
salivate. If the food was as good as the decor...
With my perceptions cranked up to high, I noticed that we were
attracting a lot of looks. Most of the men were looking at me with
appreciation, but a few either had lusty grins or a look of concern, like
one or both of us were doing something wrong. More of the women read as
the latter, also. I wondered if I was walking wrong or something, but
that didn't seem to be it...
We stopped at a two-place table and I was going to grab a seat for
myself when the maitre d' pulled one out and proffered it to me. I gin-
gerly sat down, remembering to pull the skirt up, and he slid me into
position. Buck did the same thing and then we were asked for drink
orders. Something soft for me, something hard for Buck, and then there
we were.
"It's a little fancy," he said unnecessarily, "but the food here is
worth it. I come here when I feel like being spoiled."
"I can believe it," I said, still looking around a little. That was
partially to avoid looking at him. I hadn't been too good at dating on
the other side of the table, so to speak, and I had no idea of what to do
at this point.
"Are you nervous?" he asked me, which was exactly what I felt. I
nodded before I could stop myself. "Bree - can I call you Bree?"
"Everyone else does, sure," I nodded spastically. I was not looking
cool and collected any more. "Brittany's kind of a mouthful."
He nodded. "So's Zephram," he remarked, and grinned at me. At
least that triggered a reflex smile in return. "Anyway, I, I'm not
trying to hit on you or anything like that..." He sighed, and looked
sad. "It's just been a long time since I was in the company of a
beautiful woman." I was going to object to that, but his aura said he
was sincere and I guessed it would be a bad time to argue with him. "And
I just thought, since you were in town, that we could have dinner, no
strings attached, and we could talk to each other, a little..." He
quietly trailed off after that. I didn't see any incipient lust in him,
just melancholy and loneliness.
I felt bad. I mean, he seemed to be wanting no more than I wanted
to give, but still, I hadn't been a whole lot of fun. And acting like I
was scared of him was bound to put him off. And everything he'd done had
shown that he didn't have anything in mind for me later that I would
object to, like dragging me off to a park and strangling me. He was, as
far as I could see, wanting exactly what he said he wanted.
Part of me relaxed when I realized that. "Buck, I'm sorry," I said
as sincerely as I could manage. "I know I haven't been the best company-"
"It's not that-"
"Still," I said firmly, and he let me finish. "You're a 'nice guy'
and I know I shouldn't worry, but I do anyway. Something...something
happened to me a month ago which really shook me up and I haven't been
quite the same since." I sighed. I COULD have been in college for real
at this point, but no, I had to broaden my horizons...
"Anyway, I'll try and be better company tonight, okay?"
He looked and sounded puzzled, but he said, "Okay."
I took a breath and the menu caught my eye, so I asked, "So what's
good tonight?"
"Well," he mused, "they always say fresher is better, and the
easiest fish to catch locally are the snapper and the swordfish."
"That sounds like a narrative hook, you angler you!" I laughed.
He grinned his sheepish grin and the rest of the meal went a lot
better. Since he brought it up, I made a point of selecting from his
suggestions while I made him tell me about his fishing adventures (which
wasn't difficult).
In a time so short it surprised me, we were finished with our meal
and headed back to his 300ZX. Not long after that we were at my hotel.
He hopped out while I was swinging the door open and met me as my heels
hit the pavement. His hand was more necessary than I wanted to admit
as I tried to climb back up on those heels from the low seat.
His hand was a lot of things I didn't want to admit. Unlike the
strange heat I felt when I shook hands with Tom, Buck's touch felt like
an electric buzz, more tingle than temperature. It didn't get any better
when he kept a hold on my hand as we walked to my room.
I turned at the door, trying to remember movie scenes or whatever to
decide what to do. I'd never walked a girl to her hotel room and it
didn't seem the same as walking Cindy to a door that I knew her parents
were behind.
He already had my hand, so offering it to shake was sort of overcome
by events. Then my choice was thoroughly overcome by events as his free
hand gently cupped my chin and lifted it. His lips were on mine before I
could figure out what to do.
I had thought the touch of his hand on my back was electric. I had
no clue. The feeling of heat, or whatever, lingered on my lips after he
pulled back, a very brief time later. It was, well, indescribable, and I
didn't even want to try to analyze it. I realized my eyes had closed
somewhere in there and when I opened them, I say Buck's hand gently
taking my key card from mine and opening my door.
"Thanks for going to dinner with me," he said with a smug sort of
smile.
"Um, thanks for, uh, asking me," I replied with brilliant conversa-
tional skills. "I, um, had a good time."
"So did I," he grinned. "Let me know if you're ever back in town."
"Yeah, uh, sure," I replied with continued wit. Then I escaped into
my room.
Once I was safely inside my first thought was to get out of those
shoes. My second was to let my hair down. A bit of it had come loose
anyway, not bad but I knew the process would accelerate. It was only as
I was putting my dress away that I realized I had the damn ring! I had
forgotten all about it in the course of dinner. With a discipline I
hardly knew I had, I made myself get out of all my fragile clothes and
into an everyday bra and t-shirt before I took the ring out.
It was a fairly simple design. I had already known that. Unlike
the first ring, there was no stone. It was pretty much a simple circle,
except for a swirling three-dimensional "S" shape that flowed across
the top. The first ring had been welded to the first finger of my left
hand since the day that Sarah had slipped it on so I tried to put the
new ring on the second finger of that hand.
It didn't fit. I would have sworn it was big enough but as I
brought it to my finger, it was too small to even get to the first
knuckle.
Okay, try the pinky finger. It's a lot smaller.
Not small enough. Now I definitely knew something funny was going
on. I had been wearing the replacement ring on that finger, where it had
been pretty loose, as a means to make sure I could get it off easily.
The replacement had slid into place on the carving perfectly, apparently
the exact size of the magic ring I was taking. Now, the magic ring
wouldn't even begin to fit on my hand.
I tried the fingers of my other hand with no more luck. Trying to
jam it on only caused it to spring out of my fingers and I grabbed at it
with my left hand.
The new ring bounced off the first ring with a tiny musical bong and
the first ring loosened so much it fell from my hand to lie next to the
second. I picked them both up, then tried to put the first one back into
place. No such luck. Now it was too small as well.
Juggling both rings in my hands while I tried to decide what to do
next, I realized they were being held apart, sort of like magnets with
the same polarity. I held the first one up and brought the second ring
to it. As they approached I felt the rings push back from each other
like magnets, but there was also a twisting feel. I rotated the first
one, then tried again. Now only the second had that twisting feel, but
both were still pushing back. Magnets wouldn't work that way. Rotating
either should have made them attract each other.
Still, I'm not totally stupid. These were magic rings, after all
and didn't necessarily have to behave like magnets. I rotated the second
ring and tried once again.
This time the two rings flew together so hard I dropped them again.
On the floor, they still held together, nested somehow so that they fit
like pieces of one of those three-dimensional jigsaw puzzles. I picked
up the combined ring again and this time it seemed like I couldn't keep
it off my finger. The tip of the first finger on my left hand speared
the center of the ring even though I had intended to pick it up by the
edges.
"It must be ready," I mused to myself. I was about to slide it on
the rest of the way when I remembered the trauma that had occurred when I
put on the first ring.
Short of having someone to watch over me, the best option seemed
to be to lie down on the bed. I settled myself in, plumped my pillows,
adjusted the cover under me, . . .
"Quit stalling," I ordered myself, then grabbed the ring and pushed
it all the way down my finger.
What happened next was the single most painful event I had ever gone
through in my entire life. It was as if the rings had sprouted roots,
little metallic tendrils, which drilled into my skin and up along my
nerves, activating each one as they went until they reached my spinal
column, at which point they spread out to cover every inch of my body.
At the same time another branch went up into my brain and shredded it one
pitiful screaming neuron at a time.
I thought I was dead for a long time.
When I finally realized that I was still alive, and in some kind of
physical body, I found myself in the bathroom with the remains of dinner
spread all over the toilet and myself and the floor. I was half frozen
and shivering and my body felt as though someone had enthusiastically
gone over every square inch of it with a hammer. And I was so exhausted
that I seriously thought about just going to sleep where I was. I
managed, though, to clean myself off enough to take a shower. Then I
spent some time on my hands and knees wiping the floor off, and some more
on my knees washing out my T shirt in the tub.
When I crawled into bed it was two in the morning and I would have
welcomed Death. Or at least thought about it. Luckily for me, I stayed
awake for all of five seconds.
(
geocities.com/b_dewinter)