Rewind

by Julia P. Lynde

  We sat quietly for a few minutes while I thought about it. Then I turned to him and said, "I know something else she would say to me. She'd tell me that sometimes help comes from unexpected places."

  He smiled. "Was I able to help?"

  I laughed. "Yes, you were, but coming to a church or a minister for help like this is expected. Now I think it's time to also do the unexpected."

  We both got up and he walked me to the door. I turned to thank him then asked, "Is there a donation box?"

  "There is, Shane, but that's not at all necessary."

  "I know." I grinned impishly. "But it's the right thing to do."

  * * *

  After that, I returned my focus to my studies. I stopped accepting dates. If pressed, I would tell the guy, "I've got my eye on someone, I want to see where it goes." The someone was, of course, mythical or perhaps hypothetical, but I wasn't ready to tell everyone I was gay and didn't want the guys to think I was turning them down because something was wrong with them.

  I started doing research online. I wasn't sure how much of what I could find I could trust. I thought about talking to a school counselor, but I wasn't sure if the school would be obligated to report the conversation to my parents.

  Cold January swiftly turned into a lovely February, and March wouldn't be too far behind.

  I eventually decided I wanted to talk to someone older, but a stranger. If things went badly, I didn't want to ever encounter the person again. In my online research, I stumbled over, of all things, a store in the city that sold adult toys. The two women who owned the store had a reputation for being kind and discrete.

  So on a Thursday in mid March I boarded a bus to the city, then used two city buses and walked four blocks, finding myself in front of an attractive storefront. There were manikins in the store window dressed in alluring attire: bathrobes, lingerie, and even a couple of stunning corsets. I tried to imagine myself wearing one of the corsets and blushed.

  But I liked the image. I wondered who else would.

  I stepped into the store, hearing an electronic jingle as the store's security system alerted the proprietors to a new customer. I looked around.

  The inside of the store was quite spacious. I was expecting it to look sleazy, but it was actually attractive and tasteful, at least from the entrance. Clothing dominated the area closest to the front. The shop carried a nice selection of lingerie in a variety of colors, although red and black were dominant. To my left was an area devoted to leather and beyond that to clothing that looked like it was made from rubber. To my right were corsets. I never imagined there were so many different kinds and colors.

  Above the various sections, suspended by chains from the ceiling were signs announcing the various departments. So of course there was a sign for lingerie, another for leather, one for corsets. Beyond the corsets were other signs announcing departments I knew I'd be too embarrassed to visit.

  But the corsets were stunning and I quickly found myself surrounded by them. The corsets were arranged into sub-departments labeled things like steampunk, brocade and burlesque. I didn't care for the goth corsets. They were all black, and I decided that was fine, but I liked the ones with color. The brocade and steampunk corsets were the most stunning to me.

  I'd been browsing them for several minutes, holding a few up to try to envision myself in them, finally fixating on an amazing green brocade before a voice said from behind me, "That one would be stunning on you, although this size would be better for you."

  I turned around and there was a matronly-appearing woman looking at me, holding a corset of the same model as I was. She exchanged with me and put the one I'd been holding back on the racks. I held it up in front of me.

  "It looks like it might be..."

  "Tight?" I nodded. "That's the general idea, isn't it?" I laughed. "Would you like to try it on?"

  I think my eyes got wide like a kid in a candy store just offered free samples. "May I?"

  "Of course. Let me show you to the fitting rooms." She collected two more sizes of the same corset then guided me towards the back of the store. There was an entire fitting area, almost a lounge, with private changing room at either end of the room. She asked me her name. Hers was Victoria. I remembered from the web site that the owners were Victoria and Wendy. She ushered me into one room and followed after, closing the door behind her. "It's a lot like fitting a bra," she said, "plus there are laces in back." I nodded.

  She directed me to remove my blouse and climb out of my jeans. As soon as I did, she took the corset I was carrying and set it aside, selecting one of the others she had brought with her. "Your blouse was loose, and I think that one was too big. Let's try this one instead." She helped me into the corset, the entire time explaining about the fitting and wear of them. "We design all our own corsets and they're sewn locally. That's true of all of the clothing we carry. Some of the other gear we order from a store in San Francisco and other items are imported, but all the clothing is from our own line and made locally, not overseas."

  She seemed very proud of that. I could see that she cared about the products she sold. Plus she was able to explain about the corsets without sounding like she was talking down to me. I decided I liked her.

  Then she began to tighten the laces. "You have an amazing figure, Shane," she said. "I'm going to tighten these only so it's snug, but still comfortable. And so she did. I found myself standing straighter. She tied off the laces then said, "If you were going to wear this for an extended period, you might want it a touch looser. If I was trying to sell your boyfriend or take photos, I might go a touch tighter.

  She stepped back and looked at me, tsked for a moment, then walked around behind me. "Do you mind if I change your hair?"

  I was wearing a pony tail. I told her it was okay. She gently removed the scrunchy holding my hair, then produced a brush and brushed my hair out. She arranged it to fall over my right shoulder, fluffed at it a few times, then stepped back and looked at me again.

  "Stunning, Shane. Simply stunning." There was a mirror in the fitting room, but she took my by the hand and pulled me out into the lounge and had me stand in front of a trio of mirrors that gave me a better view of myself.

  I gaped.

  "That's me?" I asked unbelieving.

  "It sure is, honey," she said. "Your boyfriend is one lucky fellow. Should I box up the corset or will you wear it home?"

  I turned to look at her, making a decision. She was beaming at me kindly, and I didn't think it was from the potential sale. She had to know someone my age would have a hard time paying for an expensive corset. "I don't have a boyfriend," I told her.

  "Oh," she said. "Well, none of my business."

  I paused. "Actually, sort of, it is."

  She cocked her head at me, not understanding, then reached out and took my hand, drawing me to a sofa. She sat me down, then sat down next to me. "It sounds like you have something you want to tell me."

  "I'm sorry," I said, looking away. "I didn't come here to buy a corset." Then I looked back at her and smiled. "But it's stunning, and I don't know how I'm going to pay for it, but I'm going to find a way."

  She looked me up and down appreciatively for a moment then said, "Maybe we can work something out."

  I looked at her sharply! Had I misjudged? She read my expression.

  "Oh dear, I spoke poorly. Nothing like that!" she patted my hand. "I just meant, well. We have our own clothing line. Maybe you would consider modeling for us? We could pay you $25 an hour." She paused then grinned, "And there's an employee discount." She paused again. "You are 18, aren't you?"

  "19," I said, considering. "Modeling? I don't know." I didn't want to insult her, but I was pretty sure I didn't want to be recognized as the model for a sex toy store.

  "Wendy does all our photography," she said. I think she figured out what I was worried about. "And we would disguise you. Careful cropping, and we have a lovely line of masks." I could see a light bulb come on over her head. "Jeremy
would love to design a matching mask for each of our corsets, and I think they'd be very popular." She noticed my questioning expression. "Jeremy is our designer. He's a dear, very witty, and a brilliant designer."

  She knew I wasn't convinced, but then she patted my hand again. "But you didn't come here to ask for a job, did you? Just think about it. We can talk more whenever you're ready."

  "I'll think about it," I said. "I do love the corset."

  She sat, looking at me, listening. I wasn't sure where to begin, so the words came out slowly. "I came here looking for help. I'm probably just wasting your time, and I'm sorry." I then explained what I'd learned online about her shop, and how she and Wendy had a reputation that suggested I could trust them. She smiled at that, but didn't try to sell me. I decided then I hadn't made a mistake, that I could trust her a little more.

  I blurted it out. "I think I'm gay." I paused for a moment then said. "No, I know I'm gay."

  I started telling her the whole story. How I felt about boys, how I couldn't stop thinking about girls. I got well into it then stopped, realizing I was taking her time and hadn't even really asked if it was okay. "Do you have time for this? The store-"

  "The store is fine," she said. "Thursdays are quiet, and Wendy is out front. If it gets busy, she'll call for me."

  So I told her the rest. Then I said, "But that's not all," and I told her about my fantasies, about Janice and Kelly and all the rest of it. I finally wound down saying, "I tried reading online, but-"

  "It's hard to tell fact from fiction online?"

  I nodded. "But then I remembered. Someone once said, sometimes help comes from unexpected places." I looked around. "And what could be more unexpected than here?"

  "Honey, can I ask a question?" I nodded. "Have you told all of this to anyone else?" I shook my head. "Any of it to anyone else?" I shook my head again. She paused. "Have you at any time spoken aloud the words, I am gay?" I shook my head.

  "Oh sweetie," she said, hugging me. I was surprised, but she felt nice. More importantly, she felt safe. "No one has ever come out to me like this before." She hugged me again. "Thank you for trusting me. It means a lot." She released me and looked into my face. There was a tear in her eye, but she was smiling. "Can I tell you a story?" I nodded.

  "You know, Wendy isn't just my business partner?"

  "I figured," I said, "but didn't want to assume."

  "I was only a little younger than you are now when I realized I was gay. This was about a hundred years ago, and things were a lot different back then."

  "It was not!" I said.

  She laughed. "Okay, not a hundred, but more years than I care to count, and things were definitely different."

  Intermission: Victoria's Story

  When Victoria was a teenager, times were different. They were more innocent in some ways, but more harsh in others. Things were more black and white.

  Victoria's difficulties started one day in the showers after phy ed. Suzie Turner was tall with curves in all the right places. Without even realizing it, Vicky, as she was called back then, was watching Suzie in the showers. One of the other girls noticed. She nudged the girl next to her, they each nudged another girl, and soon most of the girls in the shower were watching Vicky as Vicky watched Suzie. Vicky was oblivious to it all and hadn't even realized what she was doing herself.

  She hadn't realized yet that she was gay.

  Eventually one of the girls nudged Suzie and said, "She's been watching you shower, Suzie. I think she loves you."

  Suzie turned to look at Vicky, who immediately turned away, but then realized all the other girls were watching her. She tried to ignore them, but Suzie walked right up to her, dripping soap and water from every curve. Suzie stepped to within one step of Vicky.

  "Did you get a good look?" Suzie asked. "Lesbo. Huh? Did you get a good look, Lesbo?"

  "I wasn't," said Vicky, stammering. "I wasn't looking at you."

  "Like hell you weren't, Lesbo," said Suzie. "Like hell you weren't. Well, I hoped you enjoyed the peep show, because my father will make sure I never have to share another shower room with you."

  As Suzie walked back to her shower to finish rinsing off, she said the word again. "Lesbo." The other girls in the room took up the chant, and Vicky fled.

  Suzie was good to her word, because the next day Vicky was ordered down to the principal's office. Her parents were already there. "We've had a complaint," said the principal. As soon as Vicky's parents heard about it, they started screaming at her.

  No one paid any attention to her denials. "I didn't do anything. I didn't do anything."

  Vicky was excused from phy ed at that point and told to stay away from the girls locker room. She received a passing grade but not allowed to participate in any other physical sports at school.

  Her parents grounded her. They made her see a counselor. And they made her accept dates with boys who they felt were acceptable. Some of those boys thought Vicky would put out just to prove she wasn't gay.

  Vicky hated it all.

  Chapter 7 (Continued)

  Victoria looked at me. "I moved out of my parents' home when I was 19, your age. I couldn't afford to go to college, so I got a job and a tiny apartment in a seedy part of town. I lived on mac and cheese and gave blood for money as often as they would let me. I started seeing women, but by then I was so sure something was wrong with me and that I didn't deserve to be happy, that the women I found didn't necessarily treat me very well."

  She looked away, remembering.

  "When I was 27, I met Wendy. We both worked at the same company. I remember she just looked so strong and confident. I wanted to be like her. A bunch of us went out for drinks one night after work. I had a couple of stiff drinks then went up to her and told her that I really admired her and wished I could be like her. I think she recognized something in the way I looked at her. She took my drink away from me, set it down, and then said, I'm going to drive you home."

  "'I'm not drunk,' I protested to her. She stepped up close to me and whispered, 'I know you aren't. And I would really like to drive you home.'

  "At that point, I got it. Wendy said to our coworkers, 'Vicky has had a half a drink too much, and I'm going to drive her home. We'll see you all tomorrow.' Then she led me to her car with me following meekly behind her. She held the door for me, closed it, then got in the drivers seat. Neither of us said a word to each other as she drove to her house. It was small and inexpensive, but it was a house, not just a tiny apartment. She parked in the driveway, got out and opened the garage door, then pulled the car into the garage. She shut off the car, then got out and opened my door for me before leading me into the house. As soon as we were in the house with the door closed, she turned around, grabbed me, and gave me the most amazing kiss I'd ever had. Then she released me, stepped away, and asked me, 'Did I guess wrong?'

  "Well, she hadn't guessed wrong. We spent the rest of the night making love, not falling asleep until well after midnight. In the morning when we got up, she asked if I'd been serious about admiring her. When I said I had, she said, 'Well then. From now on, you're no longer Vicky. You're Victoria. The old Vicky is someone who is easily dismissed, someone who no one thinks is worth much. The new Victoria is someone everyone will take seriously."

  Victoria paused for a while before looking at me. "My life has been completely different ever since. I owe it all to her. And I decided some time ago that if ever a girl came to me the way you did today, I wasn't going to let her go through what I went through."

  We talked for a few minutes. Eventually she asked me, "Have you tried talking to anyone at school?"

  "I thought about it," I told her. "But I was worried a school counselor would tell my parents. And I figured if I went to any of the other students, well, they might be a little more experienced than I am, but not necessarily any wiser." I looked down at myself. "And I was worried about what they would see when they looked at me."

  I looked back up. "Opportunity," she said.
I nodded. "Aren't you worried that might be how I could see you?"

  "I thought about it," I admitted. "Before coming here. But if I didn't like how things were going, I could leave. At school, that might be harder."

  "You don't seem particularly naive for 19," she told me. If only she knew. "Now that I've practically ordered you to accept my help, have you thought about what sort of help you actually need? You sound like you have everything figured out already."

  I actually wasn't sure, so I admitted it. "I guess I don't know how to meet anyone. Especially anyone I can trust." I thought about it and began blushing. "And those fantasies I have scared me a little."

  She laughed. "It's good to be cautious. We can talk about that." She pursed her lips then grew a huge smile. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

  "No plans," I said, "But I don't think I'm ready to date anyone."

  "Not a date," she said. "Wendy and I are having a dinner party. Can you come?"

  The thought terrified me, and I think she saw it. She went on. "Honey, everyone who will be there has been where you are right now. Wendy and I won't let anything bad happen to you."

  I looked at her, this matronly-looking woman, older than my parents, and decided yet again I was right to trust her. "I'd love to come. Who else will be there?"

  "Excellent question!" she said, beaming. She took my hand and pulled me to my feet. "We need to go talk to Wendy." She pulled me to the door.

  I screeched. "I can't go out there dressed like this! Let me change first."

  She turned around. "Oh, yes. No skirt. You're quite right. Wait here, don't move a muscle, I'll be back in 15 seconds." She eyed me. "You won't get it off without me, just wait here."

  She disappeared without waiting for a response. She was gone for longer than 15 seconds, but she was quick. She returned carrying a matching green brocade skirt and three pairs of black heels.

  She set the shoes aside, then knelt in front of me and held the skirt open for me to step into. I obediently complied, and Victoria pulled the skirt up around my waist, buttoned and zipped it, then adjusted it so it fit on my hips to her satisfaction. She stepped away and looked at me. "Lovely," she said. "Perfect. I'm so good at this." She laughed at herself.