Chapter #49Strip Tease by: Seuzz   Let Connor decide what to do about Cindy. Carefully, you lay Kelsey's iPhone with its composed but unsent reply onto her vanity table. Then you turn your attention to the fallen girl.
Kelsey Blankenship is tall and lithe. Deceptively lithe, for she is a fair athlete and a more-than-fair gymnast. She and the Garner girls have known each other since elementary school—even though they went to different schools—as they went to the same gymnastics academy all the way through early high school. Kelsey always did best—a sore spot for Eva and Jessica, since it seemed unfair that she should have so many advantages and should merit the better set of trophies. But they swallowed their resentment and stayed friends with the bossy Blankenship girl, and tried to stay in her good graces even after she tried shaking them during their sophomore year, when she apparently decided that AP Classes and Socially Conscious After-School Clubs and People With Money were more interesting than gymnastics. That didn't stop her from joining the cheerleader squad, though; and when she decided to make a play for the captaincy of the squad, she fell upon the Garners with gooey smiles and barf-making cheerfulness (as though they had never ceased to be best friends) and talked them into trying out for the squad which she would soon—she assured them—be running. And when that didn't work out she dropped the squad and the Garners like they were a handful of boogers.
But why are you rehearsing a past that has nothing to do with you when you could be stripping Kelsey down to her skin? The point is that what skin she shows the world always looks good, and you're sure the rest of her will look good too.
You start with her sandals, unbuckling and pulling them off her feet. You run your palms up the sides of her calves and thighs to her jeans skirt, which you unzip and unwrap and lay next to the sandals. She's wearing a black, sleeveless blouse with silver threads running through it; you straddle yourself on her lap to unbutton and pull it off her shoulders. Now she's down to her bra and panties, and briefly you cradle her shoulders in your hands. Then you reach under to unhook the bra. This is very hard to do in a sitting position, so you lay yourself atop her, your face close to hers, while working the clasps. You linger with a cheek touching hers even after you've got the bra away.
You sit up. Kelsey's breasts have a subtle pear-shape to them, and they are not very large. But you find them firm when you close your hands around them. The nipples are flabby, though, and don't respond when you rub them with your thumbs.
Last, the panties, which fit tightly to her. She has a very fluffy bush, and before you can stop to think better of it, you probe it with a finger. How much pleasure does it give Karl Hennepin, you wonder. Does she let him finger her? You lay your other palm on the side of her throat. Will Connor let you finger him when he's looking like this?
Connor—You've got to get everything else ready for him. That means pulling the thin, stiff silver bracelets off Kelsey's wrists; the choker with the turquoise pendant from around her throat; the two toe rings on her right foot; and those two honking big earrings. You spread this loot out on the vanity table for Connor's quick and easy retrieval, and spread Kelsey's clothes on the bed. Next to them you pile Connor's clothes, and put Connor's mask, the sealant, and the paintbrush on the padded chair at the vanity table.
Kelsey herself lays with disordered hair on the floor, staring glassily at the ceiling.
You look around the room. The bed is king-sized, with a bedspread of desert tans and golds; hanging on the wall above the headboard is a short, zebra-striped blanket of rough wool. The walls are a muted, dusty peach, except for the far wall opposite the bed, which is white and is crisscrossed with black line work. They are abstract-ish designs of Zuni, Pueblo and—when she was calling it by its un-PC name—Anasazi flavor which she has painted on the wall herself. Jessica admires them, the way she forces herself to admire everything Kelsey does; to your native eye they look like a scramble of mecha-tarantulas.
You open a closet door on a girlish whim and look through Kelsey's things. So many dresses and blouses and shirts and sweaters. On the floor, so many sandals and sneakers and pumps and boots. On the shelves so many skirts and shorts and jeans. You shut the door. Next to closet are a set of narrow double doors, and the lights over the doorsill go on as you pull them open to reveal a floor-length mirror; hanging on the inside of the double doors are two more mirrors. Some girls get to have a full-length mirror hanging inside their closet. Kelsey gets to have three of them—like in a department store—taking up most of a bedroom wall.
You turn in place, examining your own borrowed body. It's compact, taut, sexy. Jessica has better boobs, and you really like her tight, clingy hair. Given a choice between Jessica and Kelsey, you'd much rather put your cock into the former. She's just sexier. But Jessica's jealousy of Kelsey dampens your appreciation of this body. Jessica is sexier than Kelsey, but Kelsey has style.
While still studying yourself, you glimpse a glow in the mirror: the mask coming out of Kelsey. Quickly you close up those mirrored doors and hasten to her side. You carefully lift the mask from her face, and set Connor's onto her. Her face abruptly changes to his, and you snap your hand back as his eyes open.
For an instant, you stare at each other.
Then he realizes he's naked and half-pulls the bedspread off the bed to cover his shame. Most of the carefully composed wardrobes come crashing down on him.
* * * * *
The minion's panic is not very long-lived. It seems reasonably up-to-date on what is going on and what is expected of it. It is resentful, though. "I wish I was the one putting these things on," it says as it holds Kelsey's bra up to its chest. You yank it away and tell it to get dressed. "You're not my boss," it retorts.
"No, but I'm calling your boss now, and what'll he say if he gets here and you're not—"
"I could really fuck things up for you guys before he got here, you know." Minion-Connor grins in an evil way. "Like, what if I went running through the house naked?" But you ignore him and send Connor the all ready text. The minion hops over to the window and looks out. "Nice driveway. Where are we, exactly?"
"Kelsey's place, dur. Essex Hills," you add when the minion turns to give you a look.
"Oh God, really? What's the address?"
Not this conversation again. "Ask Connor when he gets here. And get dressed already. I'm going to wait downstairs."
Partly you're heading down because the minion is unnerving you, but mostly it's because you don't know how to work the intercom or remote lock. While you're loitering in the foyer, a heavy-set Hispanic woman in a uniform walks through. She gives you a look, but you just smile and look away like you totally belong there. She accepts your bluff, and keeps walking.
You yank the door open as soon as the doorbell rings. "Get in here and get upstairs," you hiss at Connor. "That freaking minion—"
"What happened?"
"Nothing, and that's the problem. He's prancing around with his cock flapping and trying on Kelsey's clothes. Which I can totally see you doing, but—"
"Shit. Which way?"
You run into the east wing, with him at a gallop behind you.
Maybe the minion saw Connor arrive and it sobered him up; or maybe it settled down after losing you as an audience. But when you run into the bedroom you find it sitting on the bed, completely dressed and wearing an innocent look; Connor spares you a brief glare before tossing it his car keys. "I'll text you some contact info," he tells it. "Check in every day with a report. Otherwise, just be normal."
"Ja wohl," it says with a Nazi salute, and scurries out before Connor's answering kick can connect.
"So where's Kelsey's mask?"
"On the vanity. I didn't get a chance to seal it. That thing was totally out of control."
"That thing is basically me, you know."
"So you can guess how much of an asshole it was being, right?"
"Quit exaggerating. I'm starting to remember that Jessica Garner was always a bit of a drama queen, and so are you, Will."
"Can you just get changed already? Turns out there's a maid or someone downstairs, and this house is big enough you could hide a small frat party without noticing."
But Connor has already scooped up the mask and sat down with the paintbrush. You occupy yourself with straightening up the bedspread and Kelsey's clothes while Connor seals up the mask. "By the way," you say, "I thought you had to work afternoons at Starbucks."
"I switched with Justin. Just work schedules," he adds. "Not—"
"I get it. So Justin is working late?"
"Till eleven. Can we get Eva out here around then, so he can do a switch?"
"I don't know. She's got a date. What about Caleb?"
"If we can get that other girl out here, we can take care of him whenever."
You've basically decided to get Cindy for Caleb, but that would involve making a new mask. And Connor might not appreciate it. Maybe you should keep that idea secret from him, as just a thing between you and your best friend.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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