with tiny sequins covering every inch of the fabric. It’s strapless and very short, with a silver zipper showing down the back. I smile, watching it sparkle in the lights in the bedroom. It’s very rock-and-roll.
I sigh. “It’s perfect. I just don’t see how it’s going to fit.” But I want it to. Bad.
I stand up from the bed and walk over to my dresser. I pull out a black thong and a black strapless bra. They are very plain but I don’t have much in the way of sexy underwear. I ne ver thought I’d need it before.
“I really think it will fit. Here,” Theresa says, holding the dress down low. “Step in.”
I carefully step into the dress as Theresa pulls it up over me. Wow is it short, but my legs look good since I’ve shaved and soaped and moisturized a dozen times. She pulls the dress around me tightly and I hear it zip in the back. Wow, I guess it must fit.
I turn around to look at Theresa. She has a funny look on her face. Her eyes are wide and she’s smiling. “What?”
“Dylan, you look a mazing. Go look in the mirror.”
I step around her and shut the door to my bedroom, exposing the full length mirror behind it. I’m shocked at my reflection. My legs do look good, and when I have heels on they’ll elongate much more. The dress really shows my hourglass shape; how my hips are rounded and my waist is smaller. The top is a little tight because my breasts are large and Theresa’s not as fortunate, but it makes my breast flatten and pop against my chest, exposing cleavage. It’s as if the dress was made for me. I sparkle as I move. The gold makes the gold specks in my eyes stand out, and I can almost bear to look at them in the mirror because they look so different.
“I love it, There sa. Thank you,” I say, quietly.
“He’ll love it, too. I am so…f reaking…jealous,” she says and smiles. She sighs. “Get out of the dress; I have to do your hair and make-up.”
As Theresa begins the tedious task of trying to make me sexy, our home phone rings. Theresa hops over to my bed stand and picks up the portable phone. She looks at the caller-ID and hands the phone to me, whispering “Dad.”
I answer the phone, “Hey Dad .”
“Hi Sweetie . I have some questions for you,” he says, in an almost disappointed voice. Uh oh.
Theresa starts work on my hair, pulling on it with a comb. I switch hands and put the phone back up to my ear. “Wh at’s up?”
“I can tell,” he begins, “that already you are distracted out there in Boston. Maybe you should have moved into a dorm. Maybe it’s not good to live with Theresa. I mean, out all night with shirtless musicians? Not very becoming of a Harvard Law student. What will the other influential students and professors think?”
I sig h. “Where are you seeing this?”
“Honey, you’ve been on t he news for the past two days.”
My stomach knots. I feel the burning starting in my stomach. Who is he to judge me? Especially with his history? I don’t think so. “Dad, listen. I have to go. I’m busy and I don’t have time to defend myself against this ridiculous media frenzy. We’re friends right now, just having fun. Starting slow. Relax. I love you,” I say and hang the phone up.
I look up at Theresa. She winces, but continues her work.
Theresa really is a wiz with a straightener, hair spray, and eye-liner. By the time she’s done, my usually flat blonde hair is sleek against the sides of my head, while the middle comes up in a poof and an arch, creating an almost Mohawk effect. My eyes and eye shadow are like black smoke, bringing out my eyes even more. My skin is flawless, and I have a faint glow. You can’t even see the mark from the slap anymore. My lips are just a clear shine. When I smile, they sparkle like my dress.
After I stand up from the bed and put the dress back on, I do a little twirl. Theresa claps. “Perfect! I am a genius!”
I hear a knock at the door. I slide my gold high heels on, also compliments of
I sigh. “It’s perfect. I just don’t see how it’s going to fit.” But I want it to. Bad.
I stand up from the bed and walk over to my dresser. I pull out a black thong and a black strapless bra. They are very plain but I don’t have much in the way of sexy underwear. I ne ver thought I’d need it before.
“I really think it will fit. Here,” Theresa says, holding the dress down low. “Step in.”
I carefully step into the dress as Theresa pulls it up over me. Wow is it short, but my legs look good since I’ve shaved and soaped and moisturized a dozen times. She pulls the dress around me tightly and I hear it zip in the back. Wow, I guess it must fit.
I turn around to look at Theresa. She has a funny look on her face. Her eyes are wide and she’s smiling. “What?”
“Dylan, you look a mazing. Go look in the mirror.”
I step around her and shut the door to my bedroom, exposing the full length mirror behind it. I’m shocked at my reflection. My legs do look good, and when I have heels on they’ll elongate much more. The dress really shows my hourglass shape; how my hips are rounded and my waist is smaller. The top is a little tight because my breasts are large and Theresa’s not as fortunate, but it makes my breast flatten and pop against my chest, exposing cleavage. It’s as if the dress was made for me. I sparkle as I move. The gold makes the gold specks in my eyes stand out, and I can almost bear to look at them in the mirror because they look so different.
“I love it, There sa. Thank you,” I say, quietly.
“He’ll love it, too. I am so…f reaking…jealous,” she says and smiles. She sighs. “Get out of the dress; I have to do your hair and make-up.”
As Theresa begins the tedious task of trying to make me sexy, our home phone rings. Theresa hops over to my bed stand and picks up the portable phone. She looks at the caller-ID and hands the phone to me, whispering “Dad.”
I answer the phone, “Hey Dad .”
“Hi Sweetie . I have some questions for you,” he says, in an almost disappointed voice. Uh oh.
Theresa starts work on my hair, pulling on it with a comb. I switch hands and put the phone back up to my ear. “Wh at’s up?”
“I can tell,” he begins, “that already you are distracted out there in Boston. Maybe you should have moved into a dorm. Maybe it’s not good to live with Theresa. I mean, out all night with shirtless musicians? Not very becoming of a Harvard Law student. What will the other influential students and professors think?”
I sig h. “Where are you seeing this?”
“Honey, you’ve been on t he news for the past two days.”
My stomach knots. I feel the burning starting in my stomach. Who is he to judge me? Especially with his history? I don’t think so. “Dad, listen. I have to go. I’m busy and I don’t have time to defend myself against this ridiculous media frenzy. We’re friends right now, just having fun. Starting slow. Relax. I love you,” I say and hang the phone up.
I look up at Theresa. She winces, but continues her work.
Theresa really is a wiz with a straightener, hair spray, and eye-liner. By the time she’s done, my usually flat blonde hair is sleek against the sides of my head, while the middle comes up in a poof and an arch, creating an almost Mohawk effect. My eyes and eye shadow are like black smoke, bringing out my eyes even more. My skin is flawless, and I have a faint glow. You can’t even see the mark from the slap anymore. My lips are just a clear shine. When I smile, they sparkle like my dress.
After I stand up from the bed and put the dress back on, I do a little twirl. Theresa claps. “Perfect! I am a genius!”
I hear a knock at the door. I slide my gold high heels on, also compliments of
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