Xena Versus The Spartans
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If I Told You, Part 3 free porn video
III.
Well, now I was really sailing into uncharted territory. I got up from
the chair in Peggy's office and went looking for her. Two minutes later
she came breezing into the Owl & the Pussycat with a bag of groceries and
other assorted packages. She gave me her best Cheshire Cat smile and
flounced past me like a ship in full sail. Billie Anderson, my coworker
and I exchanged glances as if to say 'what got into her?'
In a moment I heard Penny trilling my name.
"Well, Danny," she began with uncharacteristic eagerness, "you must tell
me everything. Omit no detail however small." Was this the same Peggy,
the dispenser of sage advice who had urged me to take things one step at
a time? If there was one thing that I had learned in working for Penny
for the last three years it was this: always, but always answer her
questions directly. Later you can ponder what she might have been
thinking, but, whatever you do, don't equivocate or try to guess what
she's looking for. This mild mannered woman can wither you with a look
that no amount of sarcasm or scorn can match.
I recounted my conversation with Bitsy Holland, the doyenne of Davis-
Holland Modeling Agency. It was Ms. Holland, ah Bitsy, I had to remember
to call her that, who had called Tony Di Angelo out of the blue after
seeing my pictures in the Eagle Crest wine ads. As the head of one of the
most innovative and successful modeling agencies, she had young women -
and men - dying to be represented by her. It was that phone call that had
been so monumental for me.
Of course, I left nothing out, going back and forth to make sure that I
told Penny everything I could remember. "That's wonderful, Danny, uh
Sandi," she said, using my new 'stage' name as a model. "If I were you I
would accept her offer and go to New York and at least talk to her. But
you've got to remember, no matter how wonderful it sounds - and it is
going to sound wonderful, believe me - you mustn't sign anything. Take it
back with you, show it to me, to Fred Jacobs, my lawyer. If you decide to
go with Davis-Holland, you want to make that decision knowing all the
facts, not the least of which will be how it will affect your work with
Tony."
I was mulling over what Penny said; she was right on all counts, of
course. And then it hit me like freight train.
"Oh, my God, Penny, she thinks I'm a woman. I'll have to go out in public
as a woman. Agggh, I don't know if I can handle that!" I whined.
"Now, listen," Peggy said, her tone softening considerably, "I imagine
the whole idea is a little scary because it is so new. You've got to
focus on this: if you're able to convince people by the way you sit or
stand that not only are you a woman, but a beautiful, poised and self-
possessed one at that, then just think how convincing you will be walking
down the street. And remember these aren't just the opinions of people
who've seen your picture, but of Denise and Tony as well. They've both
seen you up close when the lights are hot and your feet are tired and the
clothes are sticking to you because it's so stifling in that studio. You
just need a little practice, that's all. We'll all help you, I'll help
you with whatever you need; don't forget Dr. Hansen. You know, she'll be
there for you."
Once again, Peggy was right. Why was it that she could see things I
couldn't? Did I really not know myself that well? 'Oh, God,' I thought,
'what am I going to tell the people at the literacy center where I
volunteer? I've got three people I'm working with right now; what would
they think of me?' And yet, and yet, the more I thought about it, the
more I realized that they had always been so welcoming at the literacy
center, why wouldn't they be welcoming to me now? How would I feel if
another coworker had to deal with an equally unusual situation? The
answer to that question popped into my head almost immediately. Of
course, the people there, the folks who ran it and the people who came to
the center might find it strange initially, but learning how to adapt was
something they all did so well.
I slumped back in the chair I was sitting, suddenly having realized that
I could deal with those things that were making me so nervous. These
thoughts having run through my mind in a matter of seconds. Peggy stood
up, took my hand and announced to Billie and Sarah that they were to
'hold the fort' (another of her favorite expressions), "Because Sandi and
I are going shopping," she stated emphatically.
Yet again I felt myself being swept along in the wake of Penny's
enthusiasm. If I didn't trust her so implicitly, I might have been
worried. Having never given women's clothes a second thought, I was on
mental overload within minutes. Peggy's whirlwind could and did take me
along with it, but I was unprepared for questions about my opinion about
this outfit or that. What colors did I prefer; which ones looked better
on me. There was no question that the whole shopping experience provoked
strong reactions in me. We hadn't been at the mall for more than half an
hour when I called a halt to the proceedings.
"Peggy," I said, desperation adding new urgency to my plea, "let's go to
the food court and get a cup of coffee, NOW." I could see that she was
about to object, but she correctly guessed that I was too quickly getting
in over my head. And that's just how it felt: a little kid being tossed
into the deep end being told, 'sink or swim.' She quickly consented to
the "time out," and we made our way to that - relative - island of sanity
amid the chaos.
It's funny, I suppose, some of these details stick in my mind with
absolute clarity. It's almost as if I'd experienced them yesterday so
easy is it for me to recall even small details. What's also equally funny
are the things I can't remember. A mental block, you say? Well, that's as
good an explanation as any. From the moment that Peggy and I sat down for
that cup of coffee, my mind is a complete blank. Everything is a blur.
The next thing I remember was unloading Peggy's car and carrying packages
and bags up to my apartment. With the assurance that I would want her
help, Peggy followed me in, not waiting for an invitation.
Without another word from me, she made her way into the kitchen and
rummaged around until she had found some crackers and cheese, a bag of
carrots, which she proceeded to cut up, and some herbal tea. After
boiling the water, Peggy put her little meal on a tray and brought it
into the living room to try to revive me. I was slumped at one end of the
couch exhausted, but also mesmerized by her boundless energy and
enthusiasm. "Peggy, where do you get all your energy. I'm absolutely
exhausted?"
She smiled that beatific smile of hers. "Sandi, dear, my energy comes
from helping others."
As we sipped our tea, she continued in a different vein. "Look, I know
today was exhausting, but if you do decide to go to New York, then you'll
have a passable wardrobe. And don't worry, we can return part or all of
this if you decide not to go. It's plain to see that you're still of
several minds on the subject, which is to be expected, I suppose. If this
is too much too soon, step back and take a few deep breaths. Think of it
this way: you've exploring your options. With this wardrobe you can
explore one option. In the end, of course, it's all up to you."
It was gratifying to hear her say these things that certainly roiling
around in my brain. Just to take my mind off myself, I went on a
different tack. "When Bitsy Holland called, you must have known what that
call implied. I've had a chance to absorb the fact that you and she are
old friends, and that you thought the better of telling me right then.
But I want to know what kind of person is she?"
The smile again. "Bitsy, hm..., well, where to begin? Bitsy has always
been a person who other people underestimated. She was too pretty and her
social connections were too perfect. She and I discussed these things
over the course of our college years many more times than I can remember.
What I learned about her from those conversations, many of them
stretching to the wee hours, was that she made up her mind that there was
no point in trying to buck the system. She came to the realization that
she could 'use' the system of her family's connections and her beauty to
help her achieve her goals. Back then I don't think any of us really
knew what we wanted to do, but Bitsy, unlike so many of our classmates,
possessed an energy and a drive to succeed. All this, bear in mind, Bitsy
was discovering as she went along. And even I fell into the trap of
looking at her and being captivated by her beauty. She used to say,
'Peggy, stop staring, it's driving me crazy!' It brought me back to my
senses. There was something else that was an essential part of her that
also caused people to underestimate her. That was her sweetness. In the
rough and tumble world of college, where everybody was trying to outdo
everyone else by being cynical and sarcastic, there was Bitsy, a little
island of sweetness, in that huge sea of cynicism. Some people did, I
dare say, hate her for that, but the more you got to know her the more
you recognized her genuineness. She was too smart to be gullible, but she
remained totally guileless. There's nothing that I've heard over the
years that would cause me to change my assessment."
I sipped my tea in silence for a minute or two, trying to digest all that
Peggy had said. She was a bundle of contradictions herself. The years had
done nothing to her beauty except to enhance it. If I didn't know her
better, I might be swayed by all the coverage Peggy got in the local
paper and even our little TV station. There Peggy would be at the opening
of the new hospital wing or pouring soup to homeless men. Peggy chairing
the United Way Campaign that consistently exceeded the goals set for it.
There was more than one occasion when I'd seen her quoted in the big city
papers in our area as well. I knew that she was more than she seemed when
I told a friend that I had moved back to New Springfield. 'Have you ever
heard of Peggy Thomas?' When I confessed that I worked for her, my
friend's estimation of me went up by several degrees. Now there was Peggy
telling me about her friend, the famous Bitsy Holland. If Peggy thought
that Bitsy was someone special, that really meant something. ' Dear
God,' I thought, 'what have I gotten myself into?'
There was something else about Peggy that I haven't mentioned; well, I
guess you might have guessed it from all the glowing things I've said
about her, but I want to say it anyway. Peggy was the person that you
could open your heart to. You could open your heart and never worry about
what she might think of you. Now, as things were beginning to develop, I
realized that I had to trust Peggy. Now this wasn't the kind of trust I
had in Dr. Hansen. Dr. Hansen was a therapist who had been like an angel
to me, that is, an angel who never, but never voiced her opinion. Well,
that was what therapy was about, wasn't it? I needed Peggy because I
needed her unbiased opinion. No, that's not right. I needed her opinion
no matter how biased it was.
"Peggy, I have to ask you a question," I said, in a voice that was almost
a whisper, "do you think I am nuts to be getting involved in all this? I
mean, you know the players, you know how the game is played and I don't.
Am I about to bite off more than I can chew?
"Sandi, it would be so easy to lapse into a series of platitudes and say
something like 'you'll never know until you try,' or 'that's a question
that only you can answer,' anything along those lines. It would be easy,
but I'm going to resist the temptation. To be honest with you, even
knowing the things I know, I haven't the faintest idea if you are getting
yourself into more than you bargained for. No matter what I say, I know
that you know that this is a decision that you have to make yourself. You
got through the tough times of losing both your parents in so short a
time and now this 'dress-up' thing is on the verge of spiraling out of
control. You know me well enough to know that the last thing I would ever
do is prescribe your future. Let's just say this: keep a weather eye out
for all this. You're the same person sitting here in your own living room
as the person dolled up in all the clothes, the make-up, et cetera, et
cetera. You won't be the first person to ask herself if all this is going
to your head, but you may be one of the first people to ask that question
in quite the way you are.
"Look, it's an exciting, frightening world out there that you are about
to explore. It would be foolish of me to say that there aren't pitfalls
out there, nor would I tell you that you wouldn't stumble in a few of
them. All of us have. Saying all that, Sandi, it seems to me that you are
as well prepared to explore that new world as anybody I know. Just
remember that good modeling is like good acting: the best models reveal
as much about themselves as they reveal about the 'character' they are
portraying. A model takes us into her confidence, makes us want to join
her. That's why women want to buy those clothes, or that bottle of wine,
for that matter. She is inviting us in, saying this dress, or whatever it
is, is fun to wear or makes me feel good. It's not the same as saying,
'oh, if I wear this dress, then I'll get that man to love me,' or 'if I
wear this perfume then I'll feel beautiful.' On the contrary, she says,
'I feel that it's fun to get dressed up and be in exotic locations; sure,
it's a little bit of fantasy, but come on and join me. Think of the fun
we'll have.'
"Sandi, I'm going to be here for you whatever you decide. There'll always
be a place for you here, but if you decide to go for it, you'll know that
you have your biggest fan rooting for you all the way." Peggy's misty-
eyed smile told me how she really felt and, I guess, that was the best
thing of all. By then, with everything that had already happened and
considering the prospect of what lay ahead, all I could do was sit there
and feel the tears on my cheeks.
Peggy stood up, clearly getting ready to leave and gave me the best
motherly-sisterly-friendly hug I'd had for ages. I hugged her back for
all I was worth. "Sleep on it," was all she said. Then kissing me on the
forehead, she turned and left.
If I thought for a moment that a peaceful, restful night lay ahead of me,
I was sadly mistaken. This time when I was tossing and turning, the
thought of talking to my sister, Mary, occurred before the wee hours of
the morning.
"Hey, Bro', hey Sis, whatever," she began. Since I couldn't stop laughing
just then, she paused long enough for me to catch my breath. When I told
her all that Peggy had said, Mary answered, "I'm really tired of the fact
that Peggy is stealing all my good lines. Sandi, she's one hell of a
friend to you. I remember when we were kids that she and Mom were always
thick as thieves; Once I told Mom that I really liked Peggy. Gee, I must
have been about ten, maybe eleven. Mom looked at me and said that she
really loved Peggy, too, and hoped that I would have a friend as good as
her when I grew up. Looks like you got her as a friend instead."
"Look, Sis, I don't have any exclusive contract on Peggy. From what I've
seen over the past couple of years, she spreads that umbrella of her
friendship over quite a few people."
"That's true, Sandi, but the mark of a true friend is that she is there
when you need her. And Peggy most definitely is there for you. And look,
hang up the phone and get some sleep. I've got great confidence in you
that you will make a good decision whatever it is. And remember, even
though I may be five hundred miles away, I'm here for you, too."
"Mary, you know how much I love you. You know that I feel the same way
about you."
We talked for a little while after that, mostly what was happening in her
job and about Jerry, the guy she'd been dating for the last few months.
It was a good conversation. I don't know, but talking to Mary always put
me in a good mood.
And then the roof fell in. Well, not all at once.
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