Within half an hour, all my piercings were replaced by invisible studs. Surveying myself, I realized I was slowly beginning to look more like my old self. Ugh. That’s going to change soon enough, I promised myself. Now it was time for the fun stuff: a trial run with beauty-queen makeup. I had looked up several YouTube tutorials online, and finally decided on a “natural look” that somehow involved four different types of foundation.
For the past two years, I had worn a goth look exclusively: pale face powder, a black or red lip, heavily made-up eyes, and eyebrows painted to look super-thin. Heath had seen me without makeup on, of course, but he had never seen my skin looking even artificially tan, and he had never seen what I looked like when I let my eyebrows grow in naturally.
With my computer propped open, I got to work. Thirty minutes later, a mousy-haired but perfectly made-up stranger stared back at me. I looked at myself in shock: I was glowing, radiant, healthy, like I had just stepped off of a California beach. I looked like a stranger. A hot stranger.
Pleased that my test run had worked so well, I dyed my hair in the bathroom sink by myself. Even if I totally fucked it up, the professional black dye job I had booked for the day after Halloween would hide the damage soon enough. But when I emerged from the shower and blew out my hair, I realized that I hadn’t fucked it up at all. In fact, my hair was perfect – a warm honey blond.
I backed away from the mirror, suddenly unnerved by the stranger staring back at me, and settled in for a night of reading and homework, anxious and excited to see Heath tomorrow, looking like the girl of his high-school dreams.
***
By the time the party rolled around, I was a ball of nerves. I hadn’t left the house all day, too worried about anyone seeing my new look and spilling my secret to Heath. I had been industrious all day, doing insane amounts of long-neglected homework and putting the finishing touches on a painting that had been waiting patiently for a week. By the time I was done, I had to hurry to get dressed.
Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I decided I looked… well, exactly how I had wanted to look for this one night. My now-blond hair cascaded in loose beachy waves over my shoulders, and my face was made up perfectly. My eyebrows had filled out enough so that I had a perfectly respectable arch, and my mouth was a rosy pink.
My outfit was casual. Though I knew that the costume would work best with cut-offs and a tank top, it was freezing outside. I opted instead for skinny jeans and a casual, long-sleeved T that hugged my body, with black Converse sneakers on my feet: clothes I had purchased specifically for this occasion. Taking one last look at myself, I realized that I looked… completely normal. If Heath had passed by me right now, he probably wouldn’t even give me a second thought.
Making my way to the party by myself, I wondered what he would say. Would he like it? What if he liked it more than my usual look? I fretted until I reached his frat’s door, where I entered the party, already in full swing, without anyone recognizing me. Even Heath’s best friend, Judah, said absolutely nothing to me as I passed by him. Clearly, he had no idea who I was.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Heath. I’m here. Instantly, it pinged with his reply: Me too. Let’s see if you can find me. I’m on the second floor.
I walked upstairs, smiling. The second floor was full of people I knew, but I moved among them invisibly. It’s working! I thought, ecstatic. No one looked twice at the anonymous blond whose only notable feature was the sheer volume of clothing she wore. Everywhere I looked, girls were dressed in revealing outfits. Next to them, I looked like a nun.
As I searched for Heath among the crowd, I noticed a guy dressed like Edward Scissorhands staring at me from across the room. I raised an eyebrow at him and continued looking for Heath, but he stood and approached me, walking slowly in stiff leather pants.
“Hey,” he said, his voice familiar.
“Hey.” I looked at him closely, wondering if he was in my art program. Whoever he was, he pulled off the goth look perfectly, his face pale, his hair a mess of dyed-black tendrils. I peered into his heavily made up eyes, which were a familiar green underneath all that eyeliner.
“Heath?” I asked in disbelief.
“Holy shit, it is you,” he said, placing his hands on my shoulders and looking me up and down. “Oh my god. Dara, you look…”
“I look like you, if you were a chick,” I finished. “And you look…”
“Like your ideal man,” he said, gesturing to his tight leather pants, his stiff black shirt. He looked completely unlike his usual self, but I couldn’t deny it: it was hot.
I kissed him, not caring that we were in full sight of everyone we knew -- though we had the advantage of moving around unrecognized and invisible.
“I can’t believe you did this for me,” I whispered into his neck, which was comfortingly warm. At least it still smelled like him.
“I can’t believe you did this for me,” he echoed, fingering a strand of my newly blond hair. I pulled back to look at his face.
“Do you like it?” I asked, suddenly afraid of the answer. He kissed my nose gently. “I like you the way you are,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “Although this is… pretty hot. You look good as a blond.” Again, he pulled my hair gently, and I loved the way his eyes lit up as he took in my new look.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, still staring at the long blond tresses in his hand.
“Please.”
***
By the time we reached Heath’s place, hand-in-hand, Heath was beginning to complain about the stiffness of his outfit. “I don’t know how the hell you can wear this shit every day,” he said, adjusting himself for the millionth time. “This is so fucking uncomfortable.”
I grinned at him. “For one, I don’t wear tight leather pants, weirdo. I wear dresses. Short, comfortable dresses that circulate air.”
“I’ll try that next time,” he joked, groaning. “And this makeup.” He grimaced at himself in the mirror. “My face is itching like crazy.”
“Who did it for you, anyway?” I asked, pulling him towards the bathroom, where I kept my makeup remover in a small drawer under the sink. Gently, I pulled it out and began cleaning his face.
“I did it myself. It took me forever to figure it out. The guys walked in on me like five times. I heard a lot of synonyms for the word gay this week.”
I shook my head. “Morons.”
“But you like it?” he asked, his eyes wide, his hand stilling mine as I reached to finish cleaning his face.
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him gently. “I love it, but it’s totally unnecessary. I love you the way you are too, you know.”
“Good,” he said, his voice smoky. I knew that voice. I loved that voice. It was the voice that told me that in about three seconds, clothes would be coming off.
Sure enough, Heath leaned towards me, his hands on my shoulders, and kissed me gently, his tongue flicking my lower lip. I pulled him towards me, my hands in his hair, which was stiff with dye.
“What dye did you use?” I whispered against his mouth, but there was no response. He was too busy kissing me, his hands slipping under my costume.
“You feel so fucking good,” he moaned, pulling my shirt over my head and kissing me harder. Underneath my clothes, I had on another surprise: rather than the black underwear Heath had become accustomed to, I wore a pale pink lace bra and matching panties. The color was perfect against my pale skin.
“Holy shit,” he said, taking me in my nearly transparent bra. “You look amazing.”
“Good.” I claimed his mouth in mine yet again, and soon we were pressed against the wall, my hands still in his hair, his hands roving all over my body, paying special attention to my breasts. “You’re so fucking hot,” he moaned against my neck.
In response, I unbuckled the belt that held up his leather pants and yanked them down, laughing when I saw that underneath, he wore the old Homer Simpson boxers I had given him for
his birthday the year before.
“Nice contrast,” I said, dropping to my knees and pressing slow, tender kisses to the skin above his boxers. His hands tangled further in my hair, and I looked up at him, meeting his eyes, which were still heavily lined with black.
“Have I mentioned that you look super fucking hot with eyeliner on?” I asked, running my hand up his thigh, underneath his boxers. He gasped as I flicked my fingers lightly, teasingly, over his balls, and tugged at his boxers with my other hand, freeing his impressive cock.
“Mmm,” I said, sending a long, slow, exploratory lick along the underside of his straining shaft. “Now this is a look I can get behind.” Before he could answer, I claimed him in my mouth, his hands buried in my hair as I sucked slowly, methodically, swirling my tongue over the head and the base as I cupped his balls lightly in one hand.
Heath moaned, coming apart under my mouth. “Wait,” he gasped. “Let’s take this… to the bedroom.”
“Don’t wanna,” I said, my mouth full. “Don’t wanna get up…”
As I moved up and down on his shaft, licking and sucking, slow and teasing, I made eye contact with Heath again, smiling as best I could with his impressive length in my mouth.
“You’re so fucking good at that,” he whispered. “I’m going to come in your mouth if you don’t stop that now…”
“As long as you can fuck me later,” I said, licking his tip lightly. He nodded, and his grip on my hair tightened, almost pulling. Knowing he was close, I continued sucking enthusiastically, and as his orgasm built inside him, I felt his hands tugging at my blond hair, his hips bucking hard and fast into my mouth.
“Fuck, Dara… Fuck!” he yelled. I kept my mouth on his cock and licked him clean.
He looked down at me, still on my knees, and we began laughing. I got up and took his hand, leading him to the bedroom, both of us in various states of undress: Heath with his shirt still on, wearing nothing on the bottom, and me in a bra and jeans.
“I’m loving this Winnie the Pooh look you’ve got going on,” I said as we reached his room. “Business on top, party down south…”
He flicked my bra open with one hand, leaving me completely topless. “Between us we have one whole outfit,” he said, cupping a breast gently so that I lost my breath. I smiled, kissing him, and soon we were tangled together on his bed, our legs intertwined. I unbuttoned the stiff black shirt that he wore, leaving his smooth, tanned skin bare to my fingers, and he slowly slid the jeans down my legs, revealing the lacy pink thong I had bought with exactly this moment in mind.
“Dara,” he groaned. He began to kiss his way down my body, leaving a wet trail where his mouth had been, until he reached my thighs. Parting them gently, he kissed my inner thighs, which were smooth and pale, caressing them with his hands as he nibbled and kissed, leaving me gasping with desire. The thong was sheer, and I knew he could see my arousal clearly, but he took his time, lavishing his attention on both thighs before nudging my clit gently with his nose.
“Ahh,” I moaned, wrapping my thighs around his head. He grasped my hips, pulling my thong off gently, before returning his mouth to my center. He licked me long and slow, taking his time as I writhed under him, dripping onto his flannel sheets. Spreading my legs gently with one hand, he placed the other on my stomach, anchoring himself as he licked me, totally absorbed in the task. Underneath his soft, warm tongue, I grew boneless and loose, wanting nothing more than to be taken, to be had, as fully as possible.
“Baby…” I said, my voice a ragged plea. “Come here…”
He shook his head, still tonguing my pussy in sure, firm, wet strokes. I was shattering on the bed, almost undone with the need he was unleashing inside me. I knew he wanted me to come before he entered me; Heath was always generous in bed, trying to ensure that I had as many orgasms as possible. But tonight, I wanted to come with him inside me. I wanted to look into his eyes as we claimed each other, our bodies locked together in a private, practiced dance.
“Come here,” I said, more insistently this time, pulling at his hair, and he obliged. Slowly, he kissed his way back up my body, lingering at my hips, reaching his tongue out to flick at my hipbones and bellybutton before making a slow trail back up to my nipples, which he worried gently in his mouth. I stroked his hair, my eyes closed, feeling the pleasure of his touch in every fiber of my body. But soon, the relentless need inside me was clamoring for him, and I pulled him towards me, kissing his face, his neck, his mouth.
“I love you,” I said, looking into his heavily-lined eyes, and he kissed my forehead, my face, my neck, as he eased gently into me. Our eyes met and held as he slid in, inch by rock-hard inch, filling me completely.
“Oh my god, yes,” I moaned, rocking my hips underneath his, our chests pressed together. We moved in tandem, his hands under my thighs, hooking them around his waist. My mouth never left his, and my hands clawed at his back as I gave in to the relentless pleasure that consumed me. He was so deep inside me…
“I’m coming,” I whispered into his ear, feeling my orgasm take me completely. He looked at me, lust in his eyes, as I rocked back and forth with the intense, endless pleasure of it. As my orgasm ended, leaving me breathless and dazed with little aftershocks, his began. He contracted inside me, a long, wordless wail streaming from his mouth, and I kissed every part of his face that I could reach, loving the way his eyes closed and his face went completely still for a moment.
“That was amazing. I love you,” he said as he dropped his head to rest on my chest. I pushed his dyed hair back, kissing his forehead.
“I love you,” I whispered before I drifted off to sleep, still holding him, both of us still in our costumes, completely ourselves.
For more stories by Gretchen Chambers, visit http://gretchenchambers.com
Strangers: Bedtime Stories Vol. I Page 3