Chapter #13Synchronizing to Her (Bio)rhythm by: Nostrum   You wake in a sweat.
You’re naked, on the floor of the bathroom Sammie brought you in. She brought you in under the excuse of “freshening”, but later she started asking if the canapes kicked in. You don’t recall them having any dairy, though – when you asked Giles Anderson about them, he said the fluffy cream on top was meringue, not whipped cream, so it should be safe for her to eat.
You don’t recall having any allergies to eggs or flour that’d cause you to black out. Unless you started choking – which you know you didn’t - you shouldn’t. And yet, she was insistent. She even asked if you were feeling well.
As you step out of the booth, you notice Samantha’s waiting for you inside, but she doesn’t seem too worried. In fact, she jerks her chin at you, grinning. “Get it already?”
“Get what?” you ask her. She’s giving you a really disturbing vibe. “Sammie, what happened?”
“What do you recall?”
“You asked me to come with you. Asking if the canapes had some dairy and if I was feeling well.”
“Huh...” She cocks her head. “Interesting. Say, you remember seeing anything else?”
“Well...” You notice the pens in her hand, and you freeze. “Wait. I was gonna ask you about those.”
“So you remember these? Did you remember me clicking them?”
“Uh...” You feel like a haze slowly fading away. “Yeah. But I remember you doing it... twice?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Took you longer than expected.”
“Took me long to what?” You try to make sense of what happened. You know she showed you the pens, and you were about to ask her to--
No. You remember telling her to speed things up, and then she showed you her groin. (What’s wrong with Sammie? She wouldn’t...) Then, she told you that you needed to move to the next step, and that’s when...
That’s when Jimmy clicked the brown pen. That wasn’t one of Lauren’s memories. It’s what happened to you. “Oh. I see now.”
“See, I don’t get it. You get this sensation that you’re them, but then it fades away and never comes back. It takes a while to get used to, though.”
“Get used to what?”
“Ask Laurie a question. Something personal. Just... think about it.”
You’re puzzled by her response, so you make a rather poignant question. What are your thoughts on Jimmy Wilson?
The wave of disgust overcoming you is response enough, but she kindly follows. He’s disgusting. I’ve seen him checking on a lot of girls. It’s like he was sizing us or something.
And his friend?
The answer comes after a little silence. He was looking too much at us. Pretty sure he must be another pervert like him.
“Seems she hates us,” you tell him. “Then again, she’s not wrong.”
“Because we’re posing as them?” He snorts, shaking Samantha’s head and hair in disbelief. “Well, maybe we do, but you decided to go with it.”
“I was just...!” You throw your hands in anger. “I just wanted to try them.”
“Girl, I’m just pulling your leg. I mean – I admit I’m one, but I know you don’t. You know how they say ‘walk a mile in someone else’s shoes’? Think of it as doing that.”
You cock your head, smirking. “That’s pretty insightful.”
“Of course, that goes with playing with our new bits, but--” You reflexively smack him, and she shirks. “Ow! Hey, I mean it! How will you say you understand what girls feel if you don’t go all the way through?”
“I just feel weird when you say it that way.”
“You think I was just gonna masturbate with their pussies?” She snorts. “Girl, we’re going to a party with Aurora. There’s gonna be boys around. I’m definitely going to check how it feels to kiss a guy.”
“Dude...”
“Also - did you know I do dancing too? I’m gonna rock some of her moves, strut around and enjoy the night. You should do the same – get that off your mind, and just thing about the fun we’re gonna have.”
That leaves you stunned. If you told him that, he’d probably call you ‘gay’ for doing so. But it’s not just him who’s saying that. He actually means it. And it sounds like something Samantha would say, because Lauren herself confirms it.
Yeah. Let’s not worry about that. We should have some fun.
--
You blink hard when you see the ride you’ll be going in. Your parents – Lauren's, but also yours – can barely afford a coupe, but Aurora’s parents can afford her a convertible?
“Like I said,” Samantha “reminds” you. “We’re riding in style.”
She’s not wrong. And by “she”, you mean actual Samantha. And that, ironically, tells you how the brown pen works.
You know that Samantha told that to Lauren at least twice. The first time was during her invitation, and again when you questioned her why you were going on public transportation. You even know how she reacted when she told her why. Not coming because she wants to stay near the highway? Bullshit. She doesn’t want to mingle with us peasants.
You know this because Lauren told you. It’s like in the movies, when someone’s interrogated while under truth serum, but without sounding drugged. You know what she ate for breakfast (toast, yogurt, honey and fruits), but not the plate in which she ate it or how it was organized, for example. Or how does the goldenrod color of Samantha’s Thursday outfit looked like, but that she wore a cute jacket.
And yet, that doesn’t hinder how you act as her. You had doubts as to how to wear a bra, but after getting zapped, it was like second nature. Not just that, freshening your makeup was easy, and you’ve noticed how your curves sway naturally as you walk to meet them at the parking.
“Hop in,” Aurora tells you. “It’s not gonna bite.”
“It’s just that...” You sit on the back, behind Philippa and beside Samantha. “You don’t mind if I ask if the car’s yours?”
“No, I don’t.” Samantha’s cousin giggles as she fires the car. “It was my Sweet Sixteen’s gift.”
“Did you know she promised to give it to me once she gets another?” Your friend rubs the white leather seats, grinning madly.
“You’re willing to wait until you’re twenty-five, Sammie?”
“I could wait until I’m thirty,” she claims. “Then again, by the time I hit it big, I might have enough money to buy my own.”
Aurora chuckles as she moves the car towards the highway. “Keep dreaming, Sammie.” You notice she looks at the rearview mirror, grinning. “Hey. Wanna feel the wind on your face?”
“What’s the point of driving one of these if you don’t do it?”
“Well...” The rich girl grips the steering wheel tight, smirking. “Let’s get this party started.”
As soon as she hits the gas, you feel the kick, and soon enough your hair flutters like mad. You fear that the wind will rip Lauren’s face off yours, but it sits tight. Jimmy, however, doesn’t even seem to care, as he shouts like a maniac while flailing his arms. “Whoo! Rory, hit the music!”
“I got you, cousin.” With but a glance, Aurora orders her underling (for you can’t find any other words to describe Philippa than those) to fiddle with the radio, and soon enough, the car’s speakers blare the first chords of a song that makes her cousin’s eyes snap wide.
“Oh. My. God.” You recognize it. It’s Samantha’s favorite song – one that she makes you sing along. “Laurie, we’ve got to teach them how it’s done.”
“Alright,” you say with little confidence.
“Remember - let the voice flow. We’ve done this before. Get in the mood.”
Get in the mood. That was Jimmy’s main advice. If you want to be Lauren, you need to feel like you’re Lauren. You close your eyes, taking deep breaths. You begin thinking to yourself. I’m Lauren. I’m Lauren.
But that gets interrupted as Jimmy starts the first verses. “Baby... It’s on/tonight...”
You know your friend’s not a fan of pop music. (“I’d only listen it for the chicks”, he claims.) But not only he’s singing the song – from memory – but hitting notes like a pro. Even the wavy decrescendo of the singer was nailed without a hitch. “Whoa-oh-oo-whoa-whoa-oh-ouuuu...!”
It’s so shocking that you miss your cue. You can listen to Lauren’s voice telling you the lyrics, but no voice comes from you. Samantha grabs a comb from her purse and follows through, letting you catch on.
You close your eyes, grabbing the comb, and mumble the words Lauren tells you. Soon, the words start making sense, and you feel your vocal chords yearning to vibrate to the singer’s pitch. Your confidence grows, and when the decrescendo hits again, you make a softer, smoother version.
And then, the chorus. “Oh, baby/Now/Dance it out/on the floor/to-night...” Your body began to move on its own, to the beat, and your fears washed away. You met each of Samantha’s moves step by step, even briefly inverting them at a key point. The two girls have practiced this so much, it’s second nature to them – and to your surprise, they’re second nature to you.
As soon as the song ended, you were giggling. Samantha stares at you with a mother’s pride, and you teeter between crying and giggling. You feel her tight embrace, and you sigh in relief.
“Nice!” Aurora says, in praise. “Are you on Sammie’s club too?”
“Yeah,” you say. “But I’m nowhere near her level.”
“That’s not what you showed me,” she tells you. “Sammie always asked me to help her practice, but I’m better at fashion. I mean – how can you top someone who’s danced and sung since she was a kid?”
“She can match me,” Samantha says while pointing at you.
“Then I wanna see it once we’re on the dance floor. We’re going clubbing.”
“Hold on,” you ask Aurora. “This early?”
“It's a club that opens early afternoon.”
“But won't they ask us for ID?”
The rich girl snorts, grinning. “Trust me. I got that fixed. Just wait and see.” You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author