Play Date by Casey Grant Page B

this... Mylar?” said Lena holding up the
weightless material.
    “Probably,” said Meg. “The Casino Night
fundraising package we purchased is big on realism. These outfits
are replicas of the waitress outfits at “Wave” in Vegas. They’re
only supposed to last one night before being discarded.”
    “I can’t wear that,” said Lena.
    “The fishnets will give you some coverage,”
said Meg.
    “No way…” said Lena.
    “And there’s this too,” said Meg tossing a
plastic bag with a thong and a pair of pasties inside.
    “I’m not a stripper!” said Lena.
    “Those are what you wear underneath. The
outfit is a tad volatile.”
    “Danielle, we can’t do this,” said a
flustered Lena.
    “Come on… it might be fun,” said Danielle
lowering her voice to a whisper, “Its a good way for you to meet
some guys.”
    “Not like that,” Lena whispered back.
    “I’m sure Shane Evans will be there,” said
Danielle, smiling.
     
     
     
     

Getting to Know You
     
     
    Lena put the thong and fishnet pantyhose on
quickly. It was the pasties that were the problem. This was the
first time (and it would be the last) she had ever worn such a
thing. The pasties had adhesive in the back requiring you to get
them on right the first time.
    Lena took the one-inch diameter stars out of
their pack and placed them over her nipples.
    There.
    If there were to be any wardrobe
malfunctions, her honor would still be preserved.
    She stepped into the body-hugging black Mylar
leotard, shocked by its sheerness. Lena swore that she could see
her pores through it. It had the smooth, tight sheen of a Mylar
balloon and it was obvious that it could tear with little effort.
“I can't wear this!” she screamed on the phone to Danielle. “Just
one bump against a table and this thing is in shreds!”
    “It’s just for six hours, Lena. And remember,
they gave us a spare.”
    “What spare? I didn’t get a spare,” said
Lena.
    “You didn’t get a spare?” said Danielle.
    “No.”
    “Oh.”
    “And these heels! I’m not wearing these
eff-me pumps! They’re a foot tall.”
    “You’ll look gorgeous,” said Danielle
patiently.
    “I’m afraid of heights.”
     
     
    Lena arrived at the community center, wearing
a long coat and sneakers, carrying her heels in a Barney’s bag. She
was ushered into a back room that was doubling as a women’s
changing area.
    She exchanged greetings with her fellow
volunteers, some of whom she'd run into from time to time at the
grocery store or at the pool. Most were wearing dealer attire—
pants, blouse and a vest. Unlike Lena, they were fully clothed.
    Standing in a corner of the back room Lena
spied two other moms that had been saddled with cocktail duty. They
were looking at themselves in a full-length mirror in their
cocktail attire. Neither of them was in good shape. Both had a look
of horror on their faces, unable to avert their gaze from their
less than perfect bodies in the mirror. Lena knew one of the moms
from Fuzzy Pals. “Hi Jean, said Lena, “So you're on cocktail duty
too?”
    “Uh, yes,” said Jean. “This is a train wreck.
I can’t go out there like this.”
    “Come on Jean,” said her friend Audrey, “Its
for a good cause. If I can do it, so can you.”
    Lena was feeling self-conscious now. She
retreated to a back corner and hung up her coat. She slipped on the
heels and was shocked to see that she was now a half a foot taller.
She looked down and saw that her already long legs seemed to go on
for half a mile. The outfit was strapless. It didn't just show her
cleavage but most of her upper breasts.
    “Hey Lena! Look at you!” said Jean excitedly.
“You look great!”
    “Yes, at least someone here can pull this
off,” said Audrey sourly.
    Lena walked over to the mirror, slowly,
hobbled by the heels. She stopped in front of the full-length
mirror, staring at the floor. Finally, after some seconds, she
looked up. She had been transformed into some suburban siren,