by Tara Sivec
I completely forgot I sent her a text a little while ago, asking if she had a pair of black high heels I could borrow. I wanted to look my absolute best for my date with Brent, and ballet flats would not cut it. Especially not with the dress I stuffed myself into.
“You heard that?” I ask sheepishly.
“Every thrusting finger, G-spot word of it! Dude. Look at you being all nasty and dirty and awesome! You didn’t even stutter once,” she says with pride in her voice as she walks across the room toward me and I get up from my chair.
As soon as I’m standing, her feet come to a stop and she looks me up and down with wide eyes.
“Sweet Jesus, what are you wearing? And what’s wrong with your face?”
I nervously try to tug the skirt of the dress down lower on my thighs, but that just makes more of my boobs pop out, so I adjust the top as well. Pull, tug, pull, tug, up, down, lather, rinse, repeat. No matter what I do, this dress is entirely too indecent, and dressing room mirrors should be illegal. It didn’t look this revealing when I tried it on at the mall earlier after the salesperson handed it to me and assured me every woman needed a little black dress in her wardrobe. Now that I’m standing here in front of another human being, I’m feeling a cold breeze in places where I shouldn’t feel a cold breeze.
“It’s a little black dress,” I reply with a huff of annoyance when the skintight, strapless piece of clingy fabric just will not stay put over my boobs.
“It’s a little black dinner napkin,” Aubrey says with a shake of her head, waving her hand in the general area of my head. “What about… this?”
“A very nice woman at the Macy’s makeup counter did it. She said electric blue eyeshadow is making a comeback.”
Sure, the bright blue powder on my eyes was a bit of a shock when I first looked in the mirror, but it’s growing on me. You know, if I don’t look in the mirror. I will admit the false eyelashes might be a bit much, and every time I blink, it feels like I have spiders clinging for their lives to my eyelids, but I have to continue on my quest to find the new and improved Heidi.
“Did you bring me some shoes?”
Aubrey’s eyes never leave my face as she hands me a pair of strappy black stilettos, and it’s starting to make me feel a little self-conscious. I just need to buck up and remember I said cock on my podcast. And I asked a man out on a date. None of that was normal for me, but it made me feel amazing. I’m sure I’ll get used to the rest of this new me the more I do it, and I’ll feel confident and amazing in no time.
Grabbing the shoes from Aubrey’s outstretched arm, I hold onto my dining room table to steady myself as I slip each one on. My calves immediately scream in protest, but I read somewhere once that beauty is pain. Since it feels like someone is currently pounding my toes with a hammer, I’m assuming I look gorgeous.
“There. How do I look?” I ask her with my arms out wide, my legs shaking and teetering the longer I stand here.
“Wonderful. As long as you don’t try to walk. Or blink. Or breathe. I think I just saw some of your nipple.”
“This is exactly the kind of outfit and shoes Laura Newberg was wearing the night I spied on the end of her date with Brent. I’m not sure if she ever got a second date, but this is how she got the first one, so there must be something about it that enticed him,” I explain.
“You already enticed him. He said yes, didn’t he? And were you wearing one of your LuLaRoe dresses when you asked him?”
My entire closet is filled with soft, flowy LuLaRoe cotton dresses. Boring dresses. Kindergarten teacher dresses, not sex kitten dresses that will turn a man on. My dresses will just make a man want to do homework. Hence the need for an emergency trip to the mall today.
“Yes, I was wearing a LuLaRoe dress—the one with the alphabet on it, since you asked. Kindergarten teacher clothing. I’m not a kindergarten teacher. I’m a confident, sexy woman who can now say something other than fern when referring to the male genitalia.”
“Did you just say fern?” Aubrey questions as I attempt to walk in a circle around the room.
My knees knock together and my ankles threaten to collapse with each step, forcing me to grab onto anything I can reach as I move, so I don’t face plant on the floor.
“Yes, fern,” I mutter, my shoulder slamming into the wall when my foot wobbles with a step and throws me off balance.
I quickly grab onto my bookshelf with both hands and hold on for dear life.
“You know how in all those old, classical statues, everyone’s privates are always covered with tasteful leaves? Well, my mom always called the penis a fern when I was growing up,” I explain, slowly removing my death grip on the bookshelf and lifting my arms up in the air on either side of me for balance.
“If this date is a smashing success and you and Brent wind up having sex, promise me you’ll shout, “Give me your fern, baby!’” Aubrey laughs.
Before I can roll my eyes at her, the doorbell rings. Aubrey looks back and forth between me and the door, neither one of us moving. I’m still standing here with my arms up in the air, because I’m afraid to take another step in these ridiculous shoes.
“Could you possibly answer the door for me?” I ask with a polite smile, trying not to breathe too heavily now that the nerves are back.
I’m pretty sure if I take too deep of a breath, it will completely throw my balance off. I don’t exactly want to greet Brent for our first date by being face down on the ground.
“You know you’ll have to walk at some point, right?” She snorts as she walks to my front door.
“Everybody likes a piece of ass. Nobody likes a smartass,” I remind her.
“Oooh I’m really liking this saucy Heidi.” Aubrey grins as she looks back at me over her shoulder and pauses in front of the door. “Put your arms down. Stand up straight. And smile.”
I slowly do everything she orders, my body only wavering a little bit.
“Perfect. But I can see your nipple again,” she says with a wink before turning around and opening the door.
I quickly tug up the top of my dress, which throws my stupid balance off and I slam into the side of the bookshelf again, grabbing onto it just as Brent walks through the door.
Oh my word.
Instead of his usual clothing choice of jeans and a T-shirt, Brent has thrown on a pair of black dress pants and paired it with a white, fitted button down with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, showing off a nice amount of those beautiful, muscular forearms. He looks so good I want to cry. He looks like he just stepped off the pages of GQ Magazine, and I look like I let one of my students dress me and do my makeup.
“Hi, I’m Aubrey!” she quickly introduces, giving Brent’s hand a shake before moving around him and into the open doorway. “You two kids have fun!”
When she’s behind Brent’s back, she leans around him and holds her thumb and forefinger up to the side of her head, mouthing the words call me before reaching in and closing the door behind her.
Well, this is awkward.
I’m still hugging the bookshelf, and Brent hasn’t said a word. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, he walks across the room until he’s standing a few feet away from me.
God, he smells good.
“Hey there,” he says softly, with his gorgeous crooked smile.
“Oh hey! How’s it going? You look great!”
His smile gets wider and he cocks his head at me.
“Thanks. You ready to go?”
“Oh sure. I’m totally ready.”
It’s fine that he didn’t return the compliment. I’m sure seeing me like this is just a shock and it will take some getting used to. He didn’t expect to walk in here and see Sexy Heidi ready for anything. You know, as long as she has something firm to hold onto.
Neither one of us moves. I’m afraid to let go of my grip on the bookshelf, and holy cow, why do women wear these stupid torture devices? I can feel my heartbeat in my toes. That can’t be a good thing.
> “Do you want to let go of the bookshelf or are we taking it with us?” Brent asks with a chuckle.
“Yep! Letting go right now,” I tell him, still not letting go. “Aaany minute now.”
Locking my knees as tightly as I can and clenching my thighs until I can almost hear them weeping in pain, I slowly drop my hands from the shelf. Feeling confident I’m not going to fall, I let out a huge sigh of relief as I take a step toward him.
My feet and my legs are clearly over this nonsense, and everything stops working all at once. I tumble toward Brent with my arms windmilling. He manages to dodge my flailing limbs without getting smacked in the face and catches me before I fall. With his arms wrapped tightly around my body and my chest pressed up against his, I forget all about being mortified that I tripped. He’s so warm and strong, and I can feel his heartbeat against my chest. I thought he smelled good a few feet away from me, but it’s nothing compared to being in his arms. He smells like soap and a hint of woodsy cologne that makes me tingle in all the right places.
Tipping my chin up to look at him, I have to blink rapidly and open my eyes as wide as possible to get these stupid spiders on my eyes to cooperate before I can fully focus on him.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t usually wear shoes like this. I’m not quite used to them yet.”
The concern on his face softens and he smiles down at me again.
“Did you do all this for me?”
With these shoes, my eyes are at the perfect height to stare right at his lips and watch them move as he speaks. Scenes from romance novels flood my mind, and all I can think about is having his lips on me. Anywhere. My mouth, my neck, my cheek, my elbow… it doesn’t even matter. I just want to know what they feel like.
I quickly shake away my dirty thoughts and concentrate on the question he just asked.
“Well, I’ve been doing a bit of self-discovery lately. Trying new things. Going out of my comfort zone,” I tell him with a shrug. “I’ve seen the type of women you date, and… I don’t know, I guess I just… wanted to make sure I measured up.”
I wait for him to tell me I look ridiculous and that I am ridiculous, but it never happens. He just tightens his hold on me and bends his knees a tiny bit to squat down so we’re eye-level.
“Are you comfortable right now, in this dress, and in those shoes, wearing a bunch of makeup that you don’t normally wear?”
Absolutely. You should keep your arms around me forever and ever.
“No one’s ever really comfortable when they try something new, are they? I’ll get used to it.”
He studies me for a few seconds before speaking again.
“You know how when Hollywood does a remake of a movie, it’s never as good as the original?” he asks.
“Um, sure. They should never mess with the original,” I confirm.
His eyes soften as they stare into mine and he lowers his voice to almost a whisper.
“Well, I said yes to a date with the original Heidi. The adorable, funny, beautiful Heidi who measures so far above everyone else without even trying. If you did all of this for you, then I’m fully on board. We’ll toss that bookshelf in the back of my truck and have a great evening. But if you did any of this for me, it’s not necessary. I like you just the way you are.”
My eyes immediately fill with tears and I’m blinking so hard to keep them where they are that one of my pet eye spiders decides to dislodge itself from my lid, and it hangs right down in front of my eyeball like it’s trying to scurry its way down my cheek.
“My closet is filled with nothing but dresses a kindergarten teacher would wear. I’m not a kindergarten teacher anymore.” I sniffle.
“What kind of clothes did you wear before you were a kindergarten teacher?” he asks, his arms still wrapped firmly around me.
I let out a huge sigh.
“Kindergarten teacher clothes.”
We both share a laugh and I shake my head.
“I just want you to be comfortable when you’re with me,” he reiterates.
“I would be a lot more comfortable in one of my old dresses, with shoes that aren’t trying to kill me, and none of this gunk of my face that looks like a science experiment gone wrong,” I tell him, pulling out of his arms to peel the stupid false eyelashes off. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go change.”
Brent gives me a smile and a nod as I start to step away, thinking better of it when my legs shake like a baby deer learning how to walk. Brent jerks forward with his arms out to catch me again, but I smack my hands back onto the bookshelf before he can get to me. I quickly remove the death traps called shoes, flinging them to the side and letting out a sigh of relief when my bare feet are firmly planted on the ground.
“I’ll just be five minutes. I promise.”
“Take your time. We’ve got all night,” he replies as I start walking down the hall toward my bedroom, bringing the butterflies back to my stomach.
At least this time, they’re flapping around with excitement instead of nerves.
My mom and Aubrey told me I needed to get to know Brent, and right now, I think I know all I need to about him. He really is a sweet, amazing man, who seems to like me the way I am.
I just hope he still likes me if I happen to let some colorful words out. Now that I’ve let the shit, ass, and cock fly, there’s no reining them in.
Chapter 20
My initial idea for my date with Brent was to take him to a club. Which is partly why I dressed like a two-dollar hooker who did her makeup in a dark closet. Upside down. If the dark closet was on a bumpy rollercoaster going seventy-five miles per hour. I knew Sexy Heidi wouldn’t be appropriate for polka dancing at the American Legion, but I figured she’d be right in her element going clubbing.
Do people still call it clubbing or is that not cool anymore? Dance club? Discotheque? Roadhouse?
Since I’m not cool enough to know the answer to that, I had to come up with another idea fast. Something more Original Heidi. Which is why Brent and I are currently on our way to Lola’s Lakehouse, one of my favorite restaurants, and only a fifteen-minute walk down the hill from where we live.
With a waterfront deck that runs the entire length of the building, the restaurant overlooks Lake Waconia. Living in the Midwest with all the farmland and flatland, coming to a place like Lola’s makes you feel like you’re on vacation. It’s almost like you forget you live in a small town that most people would call boring, where the air hurts your face in the winter. My family comes to Lola’s to celebrate every special occasion from birthdays and engagements to my dad’s bowling team coming in first place.
As soon as I suggested walking to Lola’s, Brent grabbed my hand and pulled it up inside the crook of his bent elbow, resting his hand on top of mine to keep it in place, and he hasn’t let go since.
“I’m really glad you picked the unicorn dress. That one’s my favorite,” Brent tells me as we walk at a leisurely pace.
I can feel my cheeks flush and I stare at my feet with a huge grin on my face as we get to the bottom of the hill that will take us to the lakefront.
My teal and purple cotton unicorn dress with a scooped neck and capped sleeves is form fitting down to my waist, with a full flowing skirt that stops right above my knees. It’s bright and cute and totally original Heidi. As is my face. I washed it completely clean of all the gunk then dusted it with powder, some blush, and cherry lip-gloss—the only make-up I own. There wasn’t much I could do about my hair that I over-curled, over-teased, and over-hair-sprayed—because that’s the only way I assumed women who wanted to look sexy did their hair—other than brush it all out and throw the long black tresses into a high ponytail, also from the Original Heidi collection. I didn’t use the scrunchie that matched my dress though. But only because I couldn’t find it.
I’ve let Brent do most of the talking as we walked, because I’m still afraid of saying something ridiculous, even though I know I shouldn’t be. Brent said he likes me just the wa
y I am. And let’s face it, I can be quite ridiculous.
“I’m gonna need to know what that sign is all about.”
Brent stops both of us on the sidewalk in front of a house right next to Lola’s, pointing to a hand-painted, wooden sign in the front yard. The sign reads If you park here without paying, your car will be towed to Iowa.
I laugh and tug a little on Brent’s arm to get him to continue walking as I give him an explanation.
“So, we have this thing here called Nickel Dickel Day. It’s a festival that—”
“I’m sorry; what was it called again?”
“Nickel Dickel Day,” I repeat.
“My apologies. One more time?”
“Nickel Dickel—” I stop abruptly in the middle of the parking lot of Lola’s when I glance up and see Brent trying to contain his laughter. “Oh my gosh, Brent!”
After I gently smack his arm in admonishment, he finally lets his laughter fly.
“I’m sorry! I couldn’t help it. You are just so damn adorable, and hearing you say Nickel Dickel in that accent of yours is the best thing ever and makes it really hard not to kiss you right now.”
Oh my God, did he just say what I think he said? If saying Nickel Dickel makes him want to kiss me, I wonder what saying nickel dick would do. Or maybe just nick dick. I’ll have to try that out on my next podcast.
“Okay, it’s out of my system. Please, tell me everything about this Quarter Dickie Day,” Brent says, making me laugh as we continue walking the rest of the way across the parking lot.
“Uff da, it’s not Quarter Dickie Day, and you know it!” I scold with a smile. “Anyway, it’s a festival in downtown Waconia, with a classic car show, tons of good food, shopping deals all around town, and stuff like that. The sign you saw in that front yard was put there, because some people who have homes close to downtown will rent out their front yards for parking, since it gets a little crazy around here and hard to find a place to park for the festival.”