by Wilde, Ora
Of the wager Donnie had proposed, and how motivated I was to prove him wrong.
Of the date with the virgin freshie that evening, and how I’d be able to tell Donnie that he lost our bet the next day.
My breathing normalized. I have stopped trembling. I was in full control of my body once again. I started the vehicle once more and continued to drive towards the campus.
There have been times like that when I felt that I was losing my sanity... out of anger and fear and spite... but I have learned how to manage it throughout the years.
Regardless of how much I tried, however, I can’t get rid of its cause. I simply cannot bury the memory that I want to run away from.
I simply cannot forget.
And whenever it surfaces, it always threatened to consume me... to destroy me.
And every time... every damn single time... it made me wonder...
Was I really broken?
Chapter 14
PHOEBE
From around three in the afternoon until early that evening, Cindy and I tried to find ways to work around my limitations.
I couldn’t wear short-sleeved clothes as they made my upper arms look flabbier than they already were. I couldn’t wear short skirts or dresses because such would only accentuate my thighs which were too rounded to be shapely. I couldn’t style my hair up high unless I was wearing a shirt - which was rather inappropriate for the occasion - because they would make people focus on my neck which was just too thick. And I wasn’t comfortable wearing contacts as they made my eyes itchy, so the outfit we would choose should take my glasses into consideration.
And heels? Geez. The only time I wore heels was during my High School graduation. I’d rather wear my Chucks.
My room has become a mess, which made me feel quite uncomfortable. I always thrived on order. I always wanted everything organized. That my bed was made to look like the sea after a shipwreck didn’t please me one bit. Clothes - mine and her mom’s (we’re both of the same plus size) - were littered all over my sheets.
Cindy tiptoed her way around the room and around me for hours as I was seated on a chair in front of my dresser, my back turned against the mirror as per her instruction. She moved with the grace of a ballerina, her hands swaying from one place to the next before settling on my face and my hair. An eyeliner here. A mascara there. Oops, don’t forget the foundation. A plate of makeup. A dozen lipsticks of different shades. A boxful of napkins that was entirely consumed before nightfall. I admired her patience. What she did was physically taxing, yet I never heard her complain, not even once.
Before the clock struck seven, she looked at me closely... and her pupils almost popped out of her eyes.
“Oh. Em. Gee. Phoebe... you look... you look... actually... you don’t look like you. You look like a goddess!”
“Really?” I responded with a sardonic tone. “Which goddess? Shiva? The one with, like, a dozen arms and ate men for dinner.” Heh! She probably ate a little too much if I actually looked like her.
“Don’t be silly, Phoebe. I’m serious! You look... you look... amazing!”
She turned my chair on its joint so that I could see myself on the mirror.
I gasped when I saw my reflection.
I still was plump, that much was certain. But somehow, some of my redeeming qualities were emphasized and they made me look more... presentable. Her choice of a spaghetti-strapped black dress that extended to my ankles was a stroke of genius. The outfit made my arms look thinner, my breasts look firm instead of just big, my tummy flatter, and my hips curvier... in a nice, attractive way. The jewelry she asked me to wear made me shine with elegance. My hair was let down, curled on the edges, giving it a very sultry look.
And my face...
Oh my goodness... my face...
I barely recognized my own face.
The makeup she put on me created the perfect contour that made my facial structure look more defined and my nose narrower. The lipstick of subdued red was a perfect complement for the dress I wore. My eyelashes were practically flawless. The eyeliner she used on me, with shades of pink and black, made my eyes appear seductive.
“If I was a guy, I’d totally do you,” she mentioned with pride.
That should’ve sounded weird, but at that moment, I was so amazed by whatever magic she has weaved on me that I actually took her comment as flattering.
“I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he picks you up!” she vengefully enthused.
“Uhm, Cindy, he’s not supposed to see you with me, remember?” I told her, as it seemed like she has forgotten about those little complexities of her plan.
“Well, I can take a peek from your window,” she suggested with a wry smile.
“Too risky. Just let me handle things, alright?”
“Okay then.” She grabbed something from one of the many bags she brought with her before approaching me from behind. “You know... there’s one thing missing that will complete the ensemble.”
She placed a silver tiara, laced with intricate designs and some clear stones, on my head. It was beautiful. I didn’t think it was possible to make everything even more fabulous, but the tiara proved me wrong.
“There you go! Oh my.... Phoebe? You look like a princess!”
“Yeah right!” I remarked with much skepticism. “I’m no princess... and he’s no Prince Charming.”
“Regardless... I am so sure you’ll win his attention, and very possibly, his heart. This is it, Phoebe! We’re going to get our revenge! We’re going to give that prick the pain and embarrassment that he justly deserves!”
She held my shoulders and shook my body with excitement. I just looked at her with a blank smile and nodded. She was so certain that I’d be able to win his heart. I wasn’t that confident, and the reasons - no matter how well concealed they were that evening - were very obvious.
And she wanted me to break his heart, the way he has broken many hearts before.
I didn’t know if I had it in me to be that mean and callous.
Then, a honk. From outside my window. In front of our house.
It was him.
It could only be him.
I felt my heart race faster than that time when I was made to complete a hundred meter dash for a compulsory high school track and field tryout. Without even moving a muscle, my breathing quickened, and soon enough, I was panting. My body started to quiver, and I felt so weak that I couldn’t even grip the armrest of my chair.
“Phoebe, he’s here!” Cindy screamed. “It’s showtime!”
I took a deep breath before replying.
“Just accompany me downstairs and help me corroborate the excuse I gave my mom,” I told her. “Don’t leave the house. He might see you.”
She keenly nodded before helping me get up. She reminded me that I didn’t have any shoes on... something which I completely forgot given the extreme bout with anxiety that I was enduring.
“Here,” she said as she placed a pair of silvery shoes, open-toed and heeled, before my feet.
I quickly wore them. Then I started to walk and, immediately, my feet began to ache and my calves started to stiffen.
“I’m not used to wearing heels,” I told her.
“Damn! Just... just walk slower,” she suggested, panicking, as we were running out of time.
As we descended the stairs, my mother approached to greet us. She stopped dead on her tracks as soon as she saw me.
“What the fuck?!” she yelled. I have never heard her cuss before. She was that shocked. “Phoebe? You look... you look beautiful... so beautiful...”
Her eyes began to swell, as if she suddenly realized that her baby girl wasn’t a child anymore. It would have been touching, but I was about to turn twenty-one. I haven’t been a child for years.
“Thanks,” I mumbled as she just stood there for the longest time, dazed and at the verge of tears. “Don’t be overly melodramatic, Mom.”
“How could I not be? My little girl... is g
oing out on a date...”
“It’s just a date.”
“Who is he?”
“I told you, he’s just some guy from school.”
“Come, I’ll accompany you to his car. You can introduce me to him.”
“Mom! We’ve talked about this already!” I reminded her. “I told you, he’s shy and you’ll just make him edgy.” It was a lie, but that date was just a one time thing. I didn’t want my mother to meet someone she won’t be seeing again.
“Okay, okay... so what now?” she asked. Will I just stay here, inside the house, and you’ll walk alone towards his car?”
“And his waiting arms!” Cindy mischievously added.
“Hush! Both of you!” I told them off. “It’s just a simple date, nothing more. Mom, please do stay inside with Cindy, and don’t you dare take a peek. He’s really... complicated... and he doesn’t like being the center of attention.”
Which was exactly the opposite of who he really was!
Another honk.
“Mr. Mysterious is getting impatient,” my mom commented. “Go,” she said as she wiped the tears that trickled from her eyes.
“Have fun!” Cindy spoke, winking at me while my mother wasn’t looking. I just sighed.
I went out of the house and immediately closed the door before they’d be able to take a peep. I walked - slowly, as Cindy advised - towards the Hummer parked on the roadside at the end of our driveway. I slightly hitched up my dress to make sure that its hem won’t get stuck in my stupid heels. My head was bowed down as I was trudging on the way to his vehicle.
When I was a few feet away from the road, I raised my head...
And I saw him.
A black coat over his violet polo shirt that was seemingly made from silk. A pair of jeans that were tight enough to reveal the sturdy shape of his thighs and legs. His usually preppy hair, short and dark, was snapped back, revealing the handsome profile of his face. His emerald eyes framed by his thick but ruggedly attractive brows, his cheeks and his jaw that seemed like they were sculpted by the gods themselves, and his square chin that added even more virility to his elegantly rough appeal. He was resting his back on the side of his Hummer. His arms were crossed, and a hand was carrying something...
A long-stemmed rose... just as white as the ones from the bouquet he gave me yesterday.
I looked at him and he was smiling. Dimples formed on his cheeks.
My knees instantly weakened. My body wanted to collapse on the pavement I was walking on. A strange feeling formed in my belly and quickly spread all over my body. And my underwear - a black thong which was, again, Cindy’s suggestion - became a little heavier. It took me a couple of seconds to realize that its meager textile wasn’t enough to carry the pool of dampness that formed on its base.
I gulped in horror and exhilaration and modest surrender.
Before I went out of our house, I knew what I should do.
Right there and then, though, when I was a few steps away from him and his gaze was melting me where I stood, I felt that I was drowning in a sea of uncertainty.
And... and I think I liked that feeling.
Chapter 15
HAYDEN
Wow!
I expected her to dress up and prettify herself, but I completely didn’t envision her to be that... that... that marvelous.
The first thing that I noticed about her were her breasts. They were lusciously big. I wasn’t able to observe them before. The previous day, when I tried to woo her into saying yes, she wore a denim overall over a loose shirt which concealed her assets. Now that she was wearing a very tight dress, her tits have become so prominent. It was difficult not to see them.
And it was even more difficult to look away.
But I tried. I didn’t want her to think that I was some kind of a sex-starved animal who would try to sleep with her that night... though that was really my intention. I had to play nice. Be a gentleman. Appear sincere. Project harmlessness. I had to win her trust. I had to win the bet.
So, as tough as it was, my eyes left her bosoms and I gazed at her face.
And the second thing I noticed about her that evening was her smile, or the lack thereof. Her face was prettier than yesterday, thanks to the makeup she wore and the way she styled her hair. But the expression on her face indicated that she was lacking confidence.
Disconcerted, unsettled, tentative... the perfect prey.
She forced a smile on her face when he saw me. She proceeded towards me, limping as if she only had one good leg. I looked at her feet and the way she unsteadily landed them with every step she took, mindful of how she could keep her balance with the heels she was wearing.
When she was a few feet away from me, her heels fell the wrong way, collapsing on the side and dragging her entire body downwards.
Instinctively, I dashed towards her and grabbed her arm.
Her skin was supple and warm. But there were countless tiny spots all over her flesh... spots that were seemingly incited by my touch. I have encountered them before, with other girls. Telltale signs of an impending conquest:
Goosebumps.
I got to her before she fell. I expected a thank you. Instead, she gave me a look of resignation, ashamed of what has happened, apologetic for her clumsiness.
It lasted less than a second, but I felt it. My heartbeat paused before continuing, a fleeting disruption to its rhythm.
It was nothing. It should be nothing. Just a symptom of the adrenaline I expended, most probably.
I helped her up and held her forearm. The goosebumps were still there, each spot tingled with the feel of my flesh. I smiled. Victory was near.
“You look beautiful tonight,” I said as I led her to the passenger’s seat.
Ordinarily, girls appreciated comments like that. Some of them would even blush. Some will dismiss it as an empty compliment, though their actions the rest of the evening would suggest how much they appreciated those words.
But with her? She acted as if she didn’t hear anything. Her face was painted with a pallid look. Was it because she wasn’t used to dating? Or because she just didn’t know how to react? Or maybe because she was still ashamed of that incident with her heels?
Cute.
I assisted her as she went up to her seat, which was a little more elevated than other vehicles. She sat around two feet above me. It was then when I grabbed her ankles. She was so shocked that she probably wanted to whack me with her bag.
“W-What are you doing?” she nervously asked... the first words she said to me that night.
I just gave him a self-assured smile.
I unstrapped her shoes, one after the other, and threw them on her lawn.
“W-What? Why?” she asked in complete confusion.
“No one would steal them from there?” I asked her.
“I don’t think so...” was her dithering reply.
“Good.”
“Good? Why? Why did you have to do that? W-What am I supposed to wear?”
I didn’t answer her. I started to drive, poker-faced, without mentioning a single word. When girls are left in the dark like that, bothered and anxious and afraid, it would just make the eventual surprise so much grander.
I drove like a madman. Rodeo Drive, which was past Ventura Avenue and across Bel Air, was a good fifteen minutes away from Van Nuys. I made it in seven minutes.
I helped her out of my Hummer. She was hesitant to leave the vehicle, fretting over the thought of having to walk barefooted in a posh district. She finally realized that she had no choice. With her toes curled, she walked with me. I grabbed her hand and placed it around my arm, just to let her know that I’ve got her back. She gave me a bemused stare, before biting her lip and taking her first step. I walked slowly, the pace I knew she required. It took us a few minutes before we made it to the strip. A row of high end stores and restaurants greeted us. She kept looking around the area, worried that people might notice that she didn’t have any shoes on.
; Once we reached Nike Town, I held her hand once more and led her inside. A saleslady quickly approached us. I looked at my date’s feet, her toes were still coiled as she tried to hide them under the edges of her dress.
“You have some Retro Jordans?” I asked.
“A complete line, Sir,” the saleslady enthusiastically replied.
“Give me a pair of series 5 for women,” I said.