The Mentor free porn video

The Mentor By Cheryl Lynn This is my rendition of Verna Benson's fabulous story "More 120's Mentor." I've always wanted to see it completed but for some reason she left it hanging. All the usual disclaimers apply and this story may be downloaded for personal use only. Any other use is strictly prohibited. This is not for the sweet sentimental reader. Comments are welcome at [email protected]. The Mentor I'll never forget the first time I met the woman who changed my life. I was a paperboy and frequently would stop at a mini-mart on my route to get change and a soda. On one of my visits I noticed an ashtray next to the register containing a smoldering More 120 cigarette. I already had a smoking fetish and looking at the long brown cigarette with a red lipstick stain with a trail of smoke extending to the ceiling sent a rush trough my body. As I placed my soda on the counter, a full figured fifty-something woman walked behind the counter. She had long salt and pepper colored hair hanging free to her shoulders, dark brown eyes made quite small looking by her thick faux tortoise shell horn rimmed glasses. She wore a sleeveless white cotton shell top thin enough to reveal her black bra and tight black polyester stretch pants that flared at the ankles. On her feet were black sensible one and a half inch cork wedged sandals. Her lovely oval nails were two inches long and painted a fiery red. Big gold hoops swung from her ears, a gold necklace, several bracelets on each wrist along with a ring on almost every finger were her accessories. When she got to the register she picked up the cigarette, took a drag, blew a plume of smoke then placed the cigarette back down. I noticed she hadn't flicked the ash which was now quite long on the extra length cigarette. I really couldn't take my eyes off of it but managed when she asked for my money. I couldn't stop my hand from shaking as I handed her my money. For some reason I was both attracted to and intimidated by this older woman. Leaving the store, I was beside myself with excitement and for the life of me couldn't explain the attraction. Here I was an eighteen year old high school senior and befuddled by an older woman. I thought I was pretty normal and didn't understand this strange attraction. Yes, watching a woman smoking was always a turn on but dang, she was old enough to be my grandmother. When I got home, I took out the pack of Kent Golden Lights 100's I had stolen from my mom's carton in the refrigerator. I had had my first ever cigarette six days ago and now the pack was practically empty. I just knew I had to go and purchase my first pack from the enchantress I had seen today, the More 120's goddess. I had always had my heart set on making my first pack Virginia Slims, they're so sexy! Yet, the thought of getting a pack of those More 120's and thinking about that hot mama from the mini mart store played on my mind. I went to the store the next day and the goddess was there again, wearing similar sexy outfit and smoking another More 120. I was literally shaking as I asked for a pack of Virginia Slims. If Mr. Monroe, the old clerk she replaced, had been there I never would have been able to do this. I expected an interrogation as this was my first time buying cigarettes and I got one. The woman leaned towards me and half-nodding knowingly to the two guys who always loiter in the store, said, "You aren't smoking are you?" I had half-expected this as I look much younger and showed her my id. She asked what brand I wanted as she handed my id back. Knowing I was going to buy Virginia Slims, I figured whoever sold them to me would guess they were for my mother. The thought that she thought I was the type of person who would smoke Virginia Slims excited me further. To make sure I got my cigarettes, I blurted out (not very convincingly), "They're for my mom." I quickly paid for the pack and left the store. At home, I was beside myself with anticipation over finally smoking Virginia Slims that I had actually bought myself. I dragged on the cigarette before lighting it and when I did light it, it was total nirvana. I had that pack gone in two days. I stopped at the store again planning to buy another pack of Virginia Slims. When I walked in, the woman was smoking her More 120s and I was overwhelmed. I had to take a deep breath before I asked for a pack of More 120's. It was just then that I realized the jeopardy I had placed myself in. The woman knew from my previous lie that my 'mom' smoked Virginia Slims. So who would she think the More 120's were for? Would she ask? "Which kind, hon?" she asked. "The regular," I replied pointing to the red pack. As soon as I said that, she exclaimed excitedly, "Same as I smoke!" Handing me the pack she started talking about how she loved smoking her More 120's. It seemed to me that she was talking to me in the same way two women might discuss smoking. I was so excited as I left the store, I ran home and lit up the long, slender, brown cigarette and was enchanted. The thought that the woman might consider me a fellow More 120's smoker got me so excited that I had to masturbate. I decided right then and there that I would present myself as a More 120's smoker to people whenever possible. I know it was a crazy idea and that I wouldn't actually go through with it. No man smokes these feminine cigarettes, at least not in public. Besides, I had to be careful as I couldn't let anyone see me who might tell my mom or friends or their friends. So I got in the habit of putting my pack of More 120's and lighter in my shirt pocket when I collected newspaper money from certain "safe" people on my route. Generally, these were older women but sometimes I took a chance with some older men. I never got a comment but I did take notice at some bulging eyes when I would fish for change and lean down, exposing my cigarettes to them even more. The last stop on my route everyday was several apartments over a laundromat. This was right across the street from the mini mart store. I had three customers there: two senior women and an older man who always sat at his table near the window with his door open to the hallway. Usually, I left the papers in the customer's mail slots but one day, feeling quite brash, I placed my More 120's and lighter in my pocket and headed to the guy's apartment to give him his paper personally. I got an adrenaline rush wondering what a man would say or do when he noticed I was smoking a woman's cigarette. He was sitting there smoking Salem 100's when I walked into the doorway and knocked. "Is it time to collect already?" he asked. I told him I'd thought he'd appreciate getting the paper without having to walk down the stairs. He seemed pleased by my "kindness" and invited me in for a glass of iced tea. This was my big chance and I took it. I had never smoked in public before, only in the safe sanctuary of my bedroom. I pulled out my long red and gold pack of More 120's and nervously lit one. "Whoa!" he said, giving me the glass of tea. "You smoke those things, huh? I've only seen old women smoking those before." "Yeah, I smoked Virginia-um Kent Golden Lights but just switched," I nervously replied. "OMG! What the fuck am I doing? I've lost my mind and this guy is going to call me a queer or worse," he thought. "You know, Sylvia down there at the mini mart smokes those," he casually mentioned. I gulped down the iced tea, put out my cigarette and made an excuse to leave. "OMG! He knows her and he'll undoubtedly tell her and she might tell my mom. I assumed she already knew I smoked since I bought the More 120s but, God! If my mom found out I will be in major trouble plus I would be beyond embarrassed for smoking a woman's brand of cigarettes," I thought running out of the apartment. I had no choice but to give the man his paper personally the next day. He mentioned that I'd left abruptly the previous day. I felt I had to make amends so I agreed to have another glass of tea. I didn't have my More 120's in my pocket but I knew I had to keep up appearances, so I fished them from my newspaper bag and lit one. "Oh, those More's," he began then he totally freaked me out by saying, "When I told Sylvia yesterday that you smoked those too, she was kind of surprised. She said she thought you were buying them for your mom or aunt or something when she sold you a pack a few days ago." Shaking inside, I tried to remain cool. I took a drag and said, "Well my mom doesn't know but she smokes. Just not the More 120's." "Hey, it's okay with me. In fact, how about going down to the store and getting me a pack of Salem 100's and get your self another pack of those Mores," he said fishing in his pocket for some money. I had no choice but to go to the mini mart since any other store selling cigarettes was too far away and the man would grow suspicious. My only hope was that Sylvia wasn't working today but there she was behind the counter in her full glory, smoking. I meekly went to the counter and asked for a pack of Salem 100's and More 120's. "Those for John?" she asked, indicating my route customer. "Yeah," I tried to sound casual but it came out more like a squeak. "Okay," she said placing the Salem 100's on the counter. Then getting the More 120's put them down in front of me and said, "Here are your cigarettes, hon." She looked at the two regulars who were drinking beer out of paper bags and added, "This boy smokes More, just like me!" My face turned crimson but at least she was accepting of my new habit. I murmured a thank you and walked out but not before she yelled out behind me, "When you leave John's, I want you to come back here for a minute. I want to talk to you." "Okay," I said but I felt like crying. "Stupid, stupid I'm a real dumb ass for letting anyone know that I smoke these. Why does she want to see me anyway? She's not planning on telling my mom is she? If my mom finds out I'm dead," he thought crossing the street. I smoked one cigarette at John's and then headed meekly back to the mini mart. I was scared and decided to stop smoking. My fetish wasn't worth my mom finding out. I'd tell Sylvia that and perhaps she wouldn't tell. Inside the store she directed me to a back room office. "You're awfully young to be smoking More and Virginia Slims. Why do you smoke women's cigarettes?" she asked. "The Virginia Slims are my mother's," I lied. The words had barely left my mouth when she slapped me hard across the face. "Do not EVER lie to me again!" she barked. I started crying as she told me she had called my mother last night. She had gotten the number from John as all route customers have my home number. "I told her I was from a tobacco company and doing a survey. She smokes Kent Golden Light 100's. She said she was the only smoker in the house. When I explained my survey was on youth smoking, she told me under no circumstances would she allow you her only child to smoke. Yes, I know everything, Joseph Markus Smith, including your name!" she said with a broad grin. I was sobbing uncontrollably by then and told her I was quitting and begged her not to tell my mommy. "It's too late for that now. However I won't tell your 'mommy' just yet. As long as you obey everything I tell you from now on, it will be our little secret," she answered. I weighed my options as far as just smoking, she'd probably ground me for a couple of months. However finding out I smoked women's brands was far too humiliating for me to explain and I know she'd get it out of me. I'd never be able to live that down so I agreed to obey Sylvia. Sobbing I pleaded, "Plea...please yo...you have...have to promise not...not to tell my mommy!" Sylvia pulled a More 120 from the pack on her desk and gave it to me along with a light. Lighting one up for her self, she asked, "So why do you smoke women's cigarettes, Joey?" Taking a great drag on my cigarette, I exhaled and said, "I just think they're sexy." "Sexy, huh?" she said, not quite satisfied with my answer but let the subject drop. She gave me a hug and added, "There's no reason to cry, Joey. Everything's gonna be all right." When I had calmed down she outlined what I would be doing. She asked me when I left for school each morning and I replied 8a.m. She told me to come to the store each morning at 7a.m. and spend an hour there. I would quit my paper route and she'd make sure my mom didn't find out. Instead, after school each day, I'd report to her at the store and then go to John's place and clean his apartment. Finished with that task I'd check in with her back at the store. I would then go to her nearby house and do chores until 6p.m. when she got home. We'd spend an hour together and I could go home at 7p.m. Sylvia told me she knew several teachers at my school who would make up "school activities" that I'd tell my mom I was involved in so she wouldn't ask questions. "Do you think you can follow that schedule, hon?" she asked with a big smile on her face. It was then that I noticed she wore a tiny diamond stud in her nose. For some reason, that made her seem even scarier to me. "Yes, ma'am," I replied still sniffling tears back. "That's good, Joey," she said giving me a kiss on the lips. "Oh, look you got lipstick on your lips. Actually, it becomes you. Plus I think cigarettes taste better when I'm wearing lipstick. Here let me put some on you," she continued, extracting a tube of bubble gum pink glossy lipstick and applying it to me. "Take the tube," she said. I could tell from her tone that I couldn't refuse. We walked out to the front of the store and she made a point of showing the men who seemed to always be there my lipstick. They had a hearty laugh at my expense and said I looked precious. I wanted to curl up into a ball and just die. I had no idea of why she was humiliating me so but what choice did I have. Sylvia gave me another More and one man said, waving limp wristed, "Oh, so sophisticated!" Sylvia instructed me to leave and go back to John's. "I will watch you from the door and I want to see you drag on that cigarette 15 times between here and the apartment house door. Do what chores he has for you. Then before you leave, kiss him once on each cheek. He's coming over later and I will look for the lipstick marks on his cheeks. Smoke the whole time you are there. John will tell me if you don't. Also whenever you are outside, you will not hide your cigarettes in a pocket or pants. Clutch your pack and lighter in your hand and always hold your cigarette aloft. If you're going to smoke women's cigarettes, you will smoke with the style of a woman. Now off you go!" As I left the shop a younger, sexy woman from my route was walking in. No doubt to grab a pack of her Marlboro Gold 100's I knew she smoked. As I approached her, she recognized me and said, "Hi." Then taking note of my lipstick, the daintily held More 120 I was smoking and the two packs clutched in my other hand, she exclaimed in shock, "Oh my God!" As I walked through the door I heard her, Sylvia and the men laughing. I walked outside and took my first drag and turned to see the group from inside the store watching me and laughing. Sylvia made a motion for me to scoot and I headed to John's puffing furiously on my More. By the time I made it to the apartment's door, my head started swimming from chain-smoking the cigarette. I went up to John's and put it out in his ashtray on the table. John stood up and hugged me. "Welcome back," he said. I lit another More and started cleaning his apartment. Over the next hour, as I worked, I chain-smoked as John kept an eye on me. When the apartment finally passed his inspection, I was allowed to leave but not before kissing him on the cheeks. He told me to go back to Sylvia and to smoke the same way I did when I came from the mini mart. Inside Sylvia took me into the back room again. She placed two nicotine patches on my upper arm and then taped over them with medical tape. She took a thick black marker and wrote, "More 120's" half on the tape and half on my arm. "That's so you won't remove it," she said before I could ask. She quickly covered that with an Ace bandage. As we smoked, she gave me a packet of gum, telling me it was Nicorette gum and I should chew it when I wanted a cigarette tonight. She then gave me a red leather cigarette clutch case, put an empty pack of More 120's into it and then added three cigarettes in the pack. She put my lighter and lipstick in the slot on the outside of the case. She said I could smoke one on the way home, one tonight before bed and one in the morning. In fact, she insisted on it saying she wanted to see three lipstick stained More 120's butts in the morning. She gave me a hug and kiss then patted my fanny told me she'd see me at 7a.m. sharp. As I walked out of the store she yelled out to me, "Start telling your mom you want to get both of your ears pierced. Really work on her because Saturday I'm taking you to get it done either way." I carefully made my way home furiously smoking. The last thing I wanted was for any of my friends or worse yet my mom's friends seeing me smoking and more importantly, the way I was smoking. When I finished, I ground it out on the sidewalk and put the lipstick stained butt in my pocket to save for Sylvia. Wiping off the lipstick I nervously put two pieces of the gum in my mouth and chewed like crazy. Not for the last time I worried about how I had let something as simple as smoking get me into so much trouble. I was afraid of Sylvia and terrified at what she was making me do. I was in too deep now to see a way out. If I only gone to mom and confessed I was smoking everything would be fine now. I could never explain why I was wearing lipstick, smoking with feminine mannerisms and quit my paper route. At home I told mom of my new after school "activities" and she seemed pleased that I was getting more involved in high school. All evening I longed for a cigarette and finally at bedtime, reached for my second of the three More 120's Sylvia had allowed me. As I lit up, I realized I forgot my lipstick and put it on. I totally enjoyed having a cigarette again. After finishing it fell asleep forgetting to remove the lipstick. That night I dreamed that Sylvia and I were in her kitchen chitchatting and gossiping as we smoked. My lips were puffed up filling most of my face and glistening in a vivid hot pink lipstick. There were gigantic gold hoops hanging from my earlobes, John was sitting beside me with my lip prints covering his beaming wrinkled face and bald head. In the morning I went down to breakfast craving a cigarette. I'd already been into the gum but it wasn't the same as having a smoke. The aching was so bad, I didn't know if I'd make it. Compounding my need was the fact that mom was at the table enjoying her Kent Golden Lights 100's and coffee. "Mom, I want to get my ears pierced this weekend." I said remembering Sylvia's command while eating my cereal. "Really, which one?" she asked somewhat surprised. "Both," I replied. "Both!" she exclaimed obviously upset. She suddenly calmed down a look of sad resignation on her face added, "Okay, then. I guess that's the style now for guys, too." Taking a sly, long drag on her cigarette and holding it aloft, she said, "Do you want to explain why there's lipstick smeared across your face?" I freaked when I realized I'd fallen asleep with the lipstick on last night. As my mom inquired as to why I was wearing it, I had absolutely no answer...I was speechless! "Are you gay, son?" mom asked. I could see the sadness in her eyes. "OhmyGod! I'm not gay but how can I explain this without being outed as a smoker and that Sylvia made me. There is no way I can answer her," I thought. We sat in an incredibly uncomfortable silence until I got up to leave after barely touching my breakfast. I muttered a weak goodbye to my mom and left to fulfill my morning obligation to Sylvia. When I got outside I immediately lit a cigarette and I really needed it! I smoked as I went to see Sylvia. Once there I complained about my mom catching me with the lipstick and what happened afterward. She was the picture of cool, as she dragged on her More 120 and let a plume of smoke drift upward. As her arm rested to its side, her hand held the incredibly long, brown, slim cigarette and you could actually see its reflection on her mirror-shiny black leather pants. She told me to forget about the orders she had previously given me. I was to work for her in the morning and then after I finished my paper route go straight home. She removed my nicotine patches and after a few minutes asked me how I felt. I was dying for a cigarette. She flipped her long gold and red pack of More 120s at me and I took one of the cigarettes from it. She gave me a light and I dragged furiously on the cigarette. When I finished, she pulled a new pack of More 120s from the cigarette rack behind the counter and handed it to me. Then she showed me how to "pack" the cigarettes before I opened it. She took the pack in her hands, with their long, oval-tipped red nails and rings glittering on every finger including her thumbs and tapped the pack hard several times against the area between her thumb and forefinger. Then she told me to use the nicorette gum when I couldn't smoke at school and had the urge for a cigarette. I lit up again and prepared to leave for school. She reminded me that I was to go home after my paper route. "Don't worry about anything, honey. I'll be in touch," she said as I was walking out the door. I walked to school taking the back streets and alleys so none of my schoolmates would see me smoking my feminine More 120s. Nervously I smoked three cigarettes on the way. I was scared to death over the events of the morning. I could only imagine the worst of what my mother thought of me. I wasn't in homeroom more than a few seconds before I had a terrible urge for a cigarette. Chewing gum is class was not allowed but I sneaked a piece of the gum Sylvia gave me into my mouth. Within a few minutes of chewing, I settled down and made it easily through my first two periods. In my third period English class, Miss Phillips was lecturing when I drifted off to think about my current predicament with my mother and Sylvia. "Want to give me that gum, Joey?" Miss. Phillips was standing over me and I handed her the gum. I fumed thinking about how I would soon be dying for a cigarette while Miss. Phillips would be off to her office between periods, smoking one of those Benson & Hedges gold 100s she always had sticking out of the side pocket of her black leather hobo bag. Sure enough by the time class bell rang, I was jonesing for a cigarette. Fortunately I was able to get my last piece of gum in my mouth in the hallway and made it undetected for the rest of the day. As school ended, I was craving a cigarette bad, so I took a route home not traveled by other students and smoked away. At home, I had to grab my newspaper bag and I knew there would be no way to avoid my mom or the awkwardness that now existed between us. When I entered the house I saw smoke coming from the dining room and thought for a second that I might be able to avoid her if she was in there. But I heard talking. She had a girlfriend over. A few steps inside and I was stopped dead in my tracks when my mom called out, "Joey, is that you? Come in here." I walked to the dining room as she gestured with her hand with its cigarette across the table. For that split second I looked across the table and saw first a pack of More 120s with a lighter atop and the hand next to it with a lit, long, brown cigarette in it. My eyes followed up the hand to the face. I froze and felt my own go pale. "This is my new friend, Sylvia," she said not looking at me. I quickly got control of my emotions and waited for the next pin to drop. Apparently mom hadn't noticed my shock. Sylvia's face I was never expecting to see in my house much less sitting across from my mom. She went on to explain that Sylvia has chores that needed done around her house and she had volunteered me to do them. "Hello, Joey," Sylvia said, as she puffed on her cigarette holding it aloft, surveying me with domineering eyes. My mother explained that I was to report to Sylvia's home when I finished my route daily. As I left, she gave me the address (Like I needed it). My nerves were shot and I grabbed a cigarette as soon as I could and wondered what was up with Sylvia and my mother. Everything I could come up with to explain what had happened said no good could possibly come from it. I was positive that it could only result in more humiliation and embarrassment for me. Later at Sylvia's she explained that she had gone to my mother's pretending to take a survey for her business and they hit it off. "Joey, she thinks you're gay," she chuckled as she exhaled smoke, "and what with the lipstick and wanting both ears pierced, I'm inclined to agree." "But that was your idea!" I yelped. I was rewarded for that comment with a slap across my face. Back at home, mom and I finally spoke about the, um, gay issue after supper. I had no explanation for the lipstick that made sense, so I told her I was experimenting. "Experimenting with your homosexuality? That's what you were doing!" she said clearly exasperated with me. "No, mom, please believe me, I'm not gay! I was just trying the lipstick! I don't know why. Maybe just curious of how it felt to be wearing it. It was only curiosity," I replied grasping at straws. "Listen, no boy puts on lipstick and wants both his ears pierced unless he's gay. You know I have nothing against gays but I do know it's wrong. I also know I can't accept having a son who's gay." "Mom...," I started to cry but she interrupted. "'Mom' nothing! I'll live with this shame but I won't like it! It goes against everything I believe in. I needed someone to talk to about this and meeting Sylvia was like a Godsend. She said she has a gay nephew and helped raise him...Well, anyway, son, I can't deal with this. Not now, it's just too much and too soon to deal with. I can't do it. So Sylvia will be spending a lot of time with you for a while. Based on her experience, she said she'd be happy to take you on. The term she used was that she'd 'mentor you'." Note: This is where the original ended. I have done some editing and added a bit of dialog to the above. The rest is new. "Mentor me? What the hell. I don't need any mentoring and I certainly am not gay. I've got to set her straight," I furiously thought as I looked into my mother's tear filled eyes. "Mom, please, let me explain. I'm not gay. I swear, please this all started out...," I began. I was going to tell her it was all because I started smoking and what I had to do to keep Sylvia from ratting on me but she didn't give me the opportunity. "Enough! I don't what to hear your pitiful excuses. Sylvia told me that you would deny everything and put the blame somewhere else. Just like her nephew did to her. No, don't say another word. Silvia is expecting you first thing in the morning so get out of here. Go to your room. I've seen and heard enough out of you for one day," she said in a surprisingly calm voice. It was a tone that I knew meant she had reached a hard decision. She can be stubborn as a mule and all I could do was go to my room. I flung myself onto my bed as tears welled up in my eyes. "Hell, men don't cry but I can't help it. Mom has always had a stubborn streak a mile wide and no telling what idiocy Silva filled her head with. Oh man, I really need a cigarette right now. Shit! That's what got me into this mess in the first place. I'm gonna quit right now. Maybe later when she calms down I can talk to her. No more lipstick, no more cigarettes. I've got to get my life back," I thought banging my fists into my pillow. I must have cried myself to sleep as I awoke in the middle of the night still dressed. I got up and changed into my pajamas, my fingers were shaking so much I had a hard time with the buttons. I felt achy all over and it was like a bunch of ants were crawling all over my skin. As I was returning to my bed I saw the pack of More's with two cigarettes inside the red leather case. Without thinking, I pulled out the lighter, tube of lipstick and opened the case to grab one. I had to hold the lighter with both my hands in order to light the cigarette they were shaking so much. The first drag and a deep one calmed my nerves almost immediately. I was half way through it when I noticed the pink lipstick stain on the butt. I didn't remember putting it on and cursed myself as I finished the smoke. The alarm went off at 6 a.m. and I slowly dragged my aching body out of bed. That antsy feeling didn't ease in the shower and only got worse. As I was brushing my teeth I noticed that I had once again forgotten to remove the lipstick. No matter how hard I scrubbed there was some of that pink color entrenched in the tiny wrinkles of my lips. Giving up I decided to grab some toast and get out of the house before mom saw me. As soon as I was out of sight of the house, I pulled out my last cigarette and lit it. I found an out of the way hiding place and drew in a deep drag. It tasted soooo good and again my nerves quickly settled down. "So much for giving up smoking," I thought with a sigh. As I crouched against a fence wall looking at the burning cigarette I noticed that there was no lipstick stain. I was about to take another drag, smiling to myself for not putting on the lipstick, I had another more troubling thought. "Sylvia," my mind screamed. Crap, I had to go see her at the shop this morning and she would be sure to ask for the butts. I debated what to do. Should I just say fuck it and not show up or should I go. If I took off where would I go and what would mom do when Sylvia told her I didn't show. Mom was upset enough and I couldn't afford to antagonize her any more than she already was. As much as I wanted to avoid the mini mart, I didn't have any choice. Reluctantly, I coated my lips with the lipstick as I finished the cigarette. Sylvia was waiting for me. She was wearing mint green polyester stirrup pants that looked like they were spray panted on and a bright floral yellow shell top. Her welcoming smile didn't seem friendly or pleasant to me. More like the grin on a cat's face as he was about to pounce on some poor bird. She handed me a More and lit it saying, "Good boy, now put on a fresh coat of lipstick and go over to fix John some breakfast. After he has eaten and you've cleaned up, get back over here. While you are there, you will freshen your lipstick at least four times and you had better be smoking the entire time. Before you leave him, give him a kiss on both cheeks. Oh by the way, I called the paper and told them you resigned. Now off with you." At least I was spared the indignity of being seen by the two old geezers that were always hanging around the shop this morning. I walked over to the apartment, puffing on my cigarette as only women do, aware that Sylvia was watching my every move. I knocked on his door and was told to come on in. John was sitting at the kitchen table in some old ratty pajamas, reading the paper and sipping at a cup of coffee. His cigarette was smoldering in the ashtray. "Sylvia said you might be coming over this morning. Can you make me some scrambled eggs, bacon and toast?" he said in way of greeting. "I can try," I answered moving over to the cooking area. I was busy mixing the eggs when John stood behind me. I could feel him pressing against me. It was a very uncomfortable feeling as his arms reached around pulling us closer together as he leaned his head on my shoulder. "Looks like you're doing okay but add a bit of milk and stir it up until it froths. That will make them come out fluffier," he said into my ear. He was so close I could smell the stench of smoke, coffee and bad breath. Speaking that close to my ear sent a shiver running up my spine. It was not a pleasant shiver by any means. I did as Sylvia ordered. I fixed him breakfast, refreshed his coffee and cleaned up when he finished. During that time I constantly had a cigarette in my mouth and redid my lipstick as required. Before I left, I kissed his bristly cheeks leaving a pink smear on them. I was more than happy to get out of there. Back at the shop Sylvia replaced the two patches on my arm and marked them so I couldn't remove them without her knowing. She handed me some more of that gum and put three More 120's into the empty pack in my leather case. "Smoke one on the way to school, at recess, and on the way back here. I'll expect you to come straight back to the shop now that you don't have a paper route," she said. I took the back way to school hoping to avoid anyone but was worried about smoking during recess. I was also upset that she cancelled my paper route as I would no longer have any money coming in. I knew that some of the kids hid out under the bleachers to catch a quick smoke so I went there. About two dozen students were there puffing away. I joined them and did my best to ignore their stares. They were probably suspicious that I would rat on them but when I pulled out mine and lit it, they went back to ignoring me. Thankful they were too wrapped up in their own thing to bother me or note that I was smoking a More 120. I was surprised at how much effort it took me not to hold it like a woman. I guess doing it that way for so long had become habitual. When I got back to the mini mart Sylvia took me into the back office. "You'll be cleaning John's place then going over to my house. I got something for you to wear. I don't want you to get your school uniform dirty," she said handing me a bundle of clothing. I stood there not quite knowing what to do as she made no effort to leave. "Eeerrr, I can't change while you are watching," I said as she continued to stare at me. "Of course you can hon. Pretend it's just us girls here. So hurry up, you have a lot to do," she said with a large grin. I stood there staring blankly back at her for a few moments before I started unbuttoning my shirt. I was down to my boxers when I separated the bundle of clothing. I kept glancing from the clothing to Sylvia not believing my eyes. It wasn't until she slammed her hand down hard against the desk making me jump that I began dressing. The first item was a soft powder pink sleeveless shell top with floral embroidery across the bodice. I fumbled with it as the buttons were placed on the wrong side. The next item I recognized from seeing my mom's laundry. It was a bright yellow panty girdle with satin diamond shaped center panel. I just stared unbelieving at it until this time her hand made contact with the side of my face. With no choice I began pulling the garment up my legs but the boxers bunched around my hips. Laughing loudly at my antics, she told me I had to take my boxers off before I could get the girdle on. Turning my back, I slipped off the boxers and pulled up the girdle. It was very tight and squashed my poor testicles painfully against my pubic bone. My painful groan was met with more laughter and I was told to reach between my legs and push them back up inside my body. I had no idea of what she was talking about, so to my mortification, she reached in, pressed her palm against my marbles and pushed. I gasped and doubled over as they popped back inside. She gave me time to recover then handed me the purple polyester stretch pants to put on. They were a tight fit and hugged like a second skin. The last item was a pair of black women's flats with a pointed toe. Dressed, she screwed two large bright pink plastic button shaped earrings to my lobes. "These will do until we can get your ears pierced tomorrow. Now put on your lipstick. You want to smoke a woman's cigarettes so much you need to look like one," she said as she put a fresh pack of More's into my leatherette case. This time the two old men were at their usual spot when we walked out the back office. Their laughter and demeaning comments followed me all the way over to the apartment. John's door was open as usual and I walked in puffing nervously at my cig. He was sitting at the table, a can of beer near at hand smoking. He was wearing a pair of old kaki slacks and a dirty undershirt that left his hairy beer belly exposed. He put down his cigarette, picked up the beer took a big swallow, belched loudly then told me how great I looked and that the bathroom needed cleaning. The bathroom was a pig sty. Dirty towels were scattered all over, the commode looked like it hadn't been cleaned in months and there was a distinct smell in the room. It wasn't stinking but bad enough to make me wrinkle my nose in distaste. I found the cleaning supplies under the sink and in the linen closet. I was happy to find a pair of new pink rubber gloves to wear. I wasn't sure I could get near that commode with only my bare hands. Before I started cleaning I noticed the full length mirror on the back of the door. I stopped and looked at my reflection feeling ill as I took in my reflected image. There were distinct panty girdle lines showing and the way the back seam of the pants dug into my ass crack made my ass look big, way big and round. While my backside bothered me my now very flat groin looked just like a girl down there. I had to swallow some bile back down as I turned away from that horrible image. Finished the bathroom, I cleaned up a bit more before he told me I was done. I kissed his whiskered prickly cheeks before I left. Only this time as I kissed him, he held me around my waist pulling us close together. He only shaved once a week and the bristles stung my lips. I was more than glad to get out of there. This was getting more personal than I wanted or liked. I lit another cigarette, held it jauntily and walked back to the shop. I didn't see him but knew that John was watching from his apartment window. Silvia was behind the counter watching as I entered. "You know hun I really like you in that outfit. It fits your style but it needs some oomph. You need some swagger when you are dressed like that. Yeah, something that tells everyone that you are proud and confident. Here watch me then you copy how I walk," she said coming from behind the counter. I watched as she walked up to me, stopped, turned away and walked back behind the counter. I just stood there not believing she really was serious but her shouted, "Do it!" got me moving. I placed one foot in front of the other and began moving. "Plant the toe first then the heel, take smaller steps, keep those elbows tucked in, yeah, that's better. Go on keep at it," she instructed. At that moment all I wanted was for the floor to open up and swallow me. The laughter coming from those two regulars didn't ease my embarrassment but I continued walking. It felt weird to put my toe down first. I had always walked planting my heel first. Another thing that bothered me was the way my ass was swaying. My blush deepened into a bright crimson as I visualized what I must look like wearing skin tight purple pants, my right elbow touching my side, hand raised and cocked holding a More 120 with my other elbow bent and holding that red leatherette case. After what seemed like an age, she told me to come over to her. She leaned over the counter, exhaled a cloud of smoke into my face, handed me a key and a piece of paper. "This is to my place and the directions. The kitchen is a total mess so clean that first. If you finish before I get there, go ahead and pick up around the living room. Fix your lipstick and remember to walk just the way I showed you. I'll be watching," she ordered. "Please no, I can't walk like that out in public. People think I'm weird enough dressed like this," I tried to argue. Lot's of good that did. She was right the kitchen was a mess. She didn't have a dishwasher and I had to do them all by hand. I was just finishing mopping the floor when she came in. I hadn't had a cigarette since I started in the kitchen and seeing her smoking sent my craving soaring. Sylvia gave the kitchen a glance as she went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. She gave me a look then took another can out and sat at the kitchen table. "You look like you need a break. Come on sit down and join me," she said pushing the extra can toward the empty seat. I grabbed my cigarette case, sat and lit up before picking up the beer. "Go ahead and drink up. I find that a cold beer and cigarette go great together," she said giving me a hard look. "What did you do to your hands? There're all red," she added. "Just what you told me, why?" I replied. "Look at my hand. What do you see?" she demanded. "Eeerrr, you have nice hands an....and long bright red nails," I said somewhat confused. "That's right, now look at yours. Do those hands look like they should be holding a More 120? No they don't, do they? From now on when you have to get your hands wet or do rough cleaning make damn sure you wear rubber gloves. I'll see what we can do about your hands when I finish my beer," she stated. All too soon I was sitting beside her watching horrified as she affixed one inch long acrylic nail extensions to mine. They were filed into neat ovals and varnished in the same vivid red as hers. My eyes must have been as wide as saucers as I held my hands up. "No don't hold her hands like that. Open them up and spread your fingers out when you examine them. I hope you paid attention to how I did that because you will be doing it yourself from now on. If I see a chip or heaven forbid a broken nail I'll blister your hide. Fix your lips, light up and let me see your walk," she ordered. I spent the next hour walking up and down the kitchen. Hands positioned just so, taking small steps, elbows at the side and swishing my hips was both physically and mentally tiring. When I went to finally sit down, she made me get up and do it like she did. Legs together, sweep the hands across the butt, slowly sit while keeping the legs pressed tight then pull the legs back under the chair. I practiced those moves for half an hour before she was satisfied. When I reached for my now warm beer, I noticed the clock and it was almost 8 p.m. "Golly, I've got to get home. My mom is going to be pissed," I blurted. "Relax Joey. You're spending the night here with me. Your mom doesn't want to see you and I expect you'll be spending a lot of time here while I mentor you. So finish your beer," she replied. I wanted to tell her she was wrong and that it was all her mentoring that got me into the mess I was in but knew she was right. My mom was really upset with me because she thought I was a queer. I looked down and saw my bright nails and what I was wearing. "Crap! I don't want her seeing me like this. She would never believe me then. Where is my school uniform anyway? I didn't see her bring it home with her," I thought as tears welled up in my eyes. Only sissies cry and I forced myself to calm down wiping my arm across my eyes. I took a big swallow of my very first beer and almost spit it back up. It was warm and tasted like I thought piss would taste like. Sylvia laughed and told me I would learn to love it. As I finished my beer, she prepared two TV dinners. We ate mostly in silence only broken when she told me to take small portions and chew at least ten times. By the time we finished and cleaned up it was 9 p.m. She led me into the master bedroom with its king size bed and ultra feminine decor. All the colors seemed to be in pinks and lavenders with a bit of red. The pillowed satin comforter was powder pink with small white floral decoration, the linens bright pink and a large stuffed red satin heart with white lace frills sat between the two pillows. The curtains were lavender satin and the fluffy throw rugs on the wooden floor matched the curtains. "You'll be sleeping with me so I can keep an eye on you," she said in explanation. I might have been timid about sleeping with her but after she got through with me I was terrified. She had removed all my body hair, shampooed and conditioned my hair before putting it up in tight bristle rollers. She slathered a thick goop on my face telling me it was a night mask. She gave me a pink panty girdle and pink nylon with cream chiffon over layer baby doll nightie with matching rumba styled panties. I didn't put up much of a fight. A few hard slaps to my face and a hairbrush to my butt took all the fight out of me. As a final insult to what little remained of my masculinity, she tied a pink satin sleep mask over my eyes and pink satin turban on my head to keep the curlers in place. Everything she had done to me she did herself only her nightie and turban were red satin. What sleep I got was disturbed and nightmare ridden. The alarm went off a 4:30 a.m. and the first thing we both did was light up. She went into the bathroom telling me to go and put the coffee on. While the coffee was brewing, I sat at the table with my head in my hands. That was when I remembered the goop on my face. My head itched and hurt from those damn rollers too. I wanted to cry but it wouldn't do any good. I was half way through my coffee when Sylvia came in. She was wearing gold lame peddle pushers with a silver metallic looking sleeveless cowl neck top. Her hair was brushed out into flowing waves and her makeup was heavy. She poured a cup and sat down. "Joey, I have your bath ready and some clean clothing out on the bed. Make sure you don't get your hair wet and make it quick. I'll take care of your hair and remove that facial mask when you're done. I have to open the store at 6 a.m. and I don't want to be late. No arguments now," she stated. After last night I didn't think my life could get any worse but again I was wrong. Looking at the clothing she put out for me turned my stomach and the bath was filled with multi-colored bubbles and smelled strongly of vanilla. My body looked so strange without any hair as I stepped into the hot water. I quickly washed, did my business and went back into the bedroom. My hand trembled as it picked up the beige panty girdle. It looked way smaller than the other ones I had worn. It was smaller and I had to struggle to get it all the way up and it squished my poor manhood painfully. I managed to get my balls pushed up back inside me and pressed my penis back between my legs which helped. This girdle really dug into my ass cheeks separating, defining and making them look bigger while pulling my stomach in several inches. Next, I worked my legs into a too tight lime green pair of stretch pants that reached to mid-calf, buttoned and zipped up the back. There was a notch on each side of the cuffs and a bright green satin ribbon bow decoration. Another shell top in pale yellow with vertical pleating buttoned with very small pearl buttons that gave me fits when I put it on. I was almost in tears by the time I had it buttoned as I was unused to the placement and those damnable long talons on my fingers. On the floor was a pair of black pointed toed shoes with what looked like a one and half inch block heel. A stiff black satin bow was on the toe of the shoe. They were a tight fit but I got them on as she walked into the room. "Stand up and let me take a look at you. Go ahead, turn around. Oh that's a nice looking ass you have there. Nice and flat in the front too. I should have given you that smaller size sooner. Come over here and let me get that mask off and your hair brushed," she said. As she was getting her purse and keys I had a chance to really look at myself in the mirror. Damn, I looked like a young flat chested girl with a big ass dressed like an old woman. Turning and looking over my shoulder the outline of my girdle was as plain as day. My hair had been brushed and tied into a high ponytail held in place with a lime green satin ribbon tied in a big fancy bow. She had replaced my pink lipstick with her vivid red, added black eyeliner and mascara. She had finished off my look with the pink button screw on earrings and several metal bangles for both wrists. She walked behind me as we made our way to the mini mart giving me instructions all the way on how to walk, hold my arms and hands. I had a hard time concentrating as the click-clacking of my heels and constant jingling of the bangles distracted me. Naturally we were both puffing away on our More's. Arriving at the shop she sent me across the street to fix John breakfast and tidy up as necessary. As I turned to go she told me to be back by noon and remember to kiss him on the cheeks. I had to knock on his door and he let me in. He was wearing a pair of ratty pajama bottoms and what seemed to be the same undershirt he had on yesterday and probably several days before. Again he gave me a close look, smiled and said I looked fabulous. He asked me to prepare the same breakfast that I had before and sat down to read his newspaper. Today I joined him at the table as I hadn't eaten and last nights meager diet TV dinner left me very hungry. As I sat my plate down, he reached over, pulled it toward him and scrapped half of it onto his plate. "Got to watch your figure, Sylvia said you might try to stuff yourself," he said smiling. I spent the rest of the morning tiding up around his place. I changed his filthy sheets, vacuumed his bedroom after picking up piles of carelessly tossed clothing. He came in to use the bathroom and saw the large pile of dirty linen and clothing. "There's a jar on my dresser filled with quarters. Use the laundromat downstairs," he said scratching his belly. Despite chain smoking my nerves were shot by the time I got back upstairs. Fortunately there was no one else in the laundromat but it seemed like I was down there forever. When I finished folding his cleaned clothing it was time for me to meet Sylvia. I dreaded what she was going to do to me but a tad sorry to leave as I didn't want to kiss John. When I approached him to say goodbye, he pulled me in close, gave me a tight hug and kissed me soundly on the lips. I tried to break loose but he had one hand holding my head to his and the other around my waist. He tasted horrible as he slid his tongue into my mouth, leaving a substantial amount of spit behind when he pulled back. I finally managed to break free and fled out the door hearing his laughter as I went. Tears flooded down my cheeks blurring my vision as I reached the street. I was halfway across when I heard, "Walk like I taught you!" I stopped and assumed the posture she wanted and began sashaying over to where she was waiting. "Hun you look a fright. Didn't you check the mirror before you left John's?" she said giggling as I reached her. I had no idea of what she was talking about until she took me into the store's bathroom. Looking back at me in the mirror was indeed a mess. My lipstick was smeared across my face and the black mascara and liner gave me raccoon eyes. This time I couldn't stop the tears and sat sobbing on the commode. "Looks like John really liked your outfit today. You'll have to remember to check your makeup before you leave from now on. Stop that crying and let me fix your face hun. We don't have all day and I promised you we would get your ears pierced today," she said. I don't know how I lived through that day. We took the bus to the nearest mall and it was crowded. I kept my head down the whole way but it felt like ever eye was focused on me. As we were getting off, someone pinched my butt. I wasn't expecting that and let out a shrill "Eeek!" just like a silly girl. Sylvia took me straight to the Piercing Pagoda where she had my ears pierced not once but three times. When we left, I had two gold studs in both lobes and small gold clasp clipped in the center. I was so nervous someone from my school or mother's friends would see me that I really needed a smoke. The only good thing I can say about the trip was that we didn't linger in the crowded mall. With my ears pierced, we went straight back to the bus stop and lit up. You couldn't smoke in the mall or on the bus and we both needed the nicotine. I was surprised when we got off the bus about two thirds of the way to the shop. She led me into a thrift store and into the women's clothing section. She seemed to know exactly what she wanted and made a bee line to the foundations. There she purchased seven panty girdles, two white, two beige, one each in yellow, black and red. With panty girdles in the cart, she gave me a hard look then moved over to the bras. To my great surprise and embarrassment she picked one out and held it to my chest then actually put it on me over my top. I couldn't believe that she would do something like that. I stood in petrified shock as she fastened the back closure. "It's a little small. The band is leaving some love handles on your back but it will do," she muttered as she unclasped it. She tossed the white bra into the cart and quickly selected several more boxes from the display shelf. From foundations she led me over to the clothing racks. She dug through a rack of skinny jeans, picked out several pair and handed them to me. "Here, go try these on. I want to see how they fit," she said as I looked at her blankly. "Yo...you can....can't be serious," I stammered. "Of course I'm serious. Now go try them on or do I have to punish you?" she replied coldly. I was scared and did as I was told. I was scared of her and scared that someone would call the cops that a boy was in the girl's dressing room. I was only able to get into one pair of the jeans. They were low on my waist and the crotch dung into my ass and groin. The pale blue stretch denim clung to my legs like they were spray painted on and only came down to just above my ankles. Sylvia checked the fit, noted the size and left me standing in the common area. "Shit! Shit! Someone is going to start screaming any minute that I'm in the girl's changing area. I can't believe this is happening to me. Oh I'm so dead," I thought praying that I could become invisible. At last Sylvia returned with arms loaded with clothing. There were six more pair of pants, Capri's, stirrup, slacks and flare legged styles. With the pants were several blouses, baby doll, shell and cap sleeved styled in nylon, satin and thin cotton. Of course I had to try them all on and with each change, more of my masculinity died. From the clothing department we went over to the shoes. We left that department with two three inch cork soled wedge sandals in white and red. Two pair of pointed toed flats in black and red and one pair of pointed toed four inch stiletto heeled one inch platform soled pumps in hot pink. Several assorted belts, two purses, ten different but feminine rings, a dozen wrist bangles and two toe rings completed her purchases. We weren't that far from the mini mart and Sylvia decided we would walk. After almost two hours in the thrift store we both needed a smoke. Even with our arms loaded, we began walking puffing away like there was no tomorrow. The click clacking of our shoes ringing in my ears and the strange tugging and pulling of the bra that I now wore under my blouse were like spikes being driven into my soul. Yeah, I was wearing a bra. As soon as we checked out, she took me into the women's bathroom and had me change. There was only one woman in there when we entered washing her hands. She gave us a smile as she left. Sylvia used the baby's changing table to park our bags. She handed me a white Playtex Eighteen hour bra to put on. I had absolutely no idea of what to do with it and she stepped in to show me. Grabbing some tissue from the stall she stuffed the cups to give them shape then told me to put my blouse back on. Next, after digging around in another bag, handed me the two gold toe rings to put on along with the red wedge sandals. She removed the red leatherette hobo bag she had purchased and began stuffing it with items from the bags. When it was full, two bags were emptied and she handed it to me. "We're going to walk back to the shop and the fewer bags the better. This is yours, go on and take it. Fuck! I need a smoke. Come on, let's get out of here," she said handing me the purse as she stuffed some more items into her purse. We had to stop several times to put down the heavy bags and light up another cigarette. Of course we passed other pedestrians as we made our way past the shop and to her house. The women gave us a brief glance, one or two even smiled but most of the men we passed gave us a look that I didn't like at all. It was a look that scared me. I was never so happy to finally get into Sylvia's house. We spent about an hour removing tags and putting all "my" new stuff away. I complained about what she purchased for me to wear and was simply told that since I smoked women's cigarettes, I would just have to look and act the part. I admit I got a thrill smoking my More 120's but what she was demanding was beyond my comprehension or desires. I swear that wearing a tight as hell girdle and a bra that left red indentations on my shoulders and chest were definitely not on my fun list of things to do. Dressing and acting like a woman didn't give me any pleasure either, only humiliation and disgust. I tried to tell Sylvia my true feelings but all she said was to repair my makeup and get over to John's to tidy up and fix his supper. Before I left I had to ask if I could at least take the stuffing out of my bra. Seeing my chest tented out my blouse was really getting to me. To my surprise, she replied, "Yeah hun, I wanted to fix that sooner but forgot. Come over here and let me see what I can do." My smile left my face when after removing all that tissue she stuffed two pink satin covered foam pads into the cups. Great, now my chest stuck out even more prominently than before. Handing me my purse, she slapped my butt and sent me over to John's. I can't begin to tell you what I was feeling and thinking as I swished my butt to his apartment. Here I was wearing a friggin bra, super tight panty girdle in a pair of tight pants and woman's blouse, carrying a red hobo bag over one shoulder, my red leatherette cigarette case in one hand and a lit More 120 in the other. Boy I must have really looked a sight. I couldn't wait to get to John's and out of sight before anyone I knew saw me. Walking in small steps, my butt swaying in those three inch wedge sandals slowed me down to a crawl but I made it there without seeing anyone. Well, that is, no one except old Mrs. Willsford who used to be one of my customers and lived in the same apartment building. I wasn't sure if she recognized me but she did give me a long hard stare. As usual John's door was open and I walked right in. He was at that same table, drinking a beer, smoking and reading the afternoon paper like he always was. I put my purse on a chair, took out another cig and lit it while he just stared at me. As I pulled my cig from my lips, the bright red stain on the butt, he said, "You look absolutely fabulous Sugar." I didn't like his "sugar" reference but said thanks and asked what needed to be done. He didn't have anything specific so I just started picking up around his place. Not a whole lot really, washed his lunch dishes, picked up various sports magazines lying around, some trash here some there. He made me nervous as I moved around the apartment. His eyes never seemed to leave me though he pretended to read the paper. When I was finished he asked me if I knew how to cook us some chicken and veggies for supper. I didn't think it would be hard. I mean, how hard it can be to toss some chicken into a skillet. Of course, like all my thinking lately, it turned out to be more of a production. John stayed close, uncomfortably close, as he gave me instructions on how he wanted his meal prepared. His hands seemed to be constantly touching me, on the arm, around my waist and occasionally patting my ass. All I could do was bear it trying my best to ignore the touching and his body odor. He hadn't bothered to take a shower or change his clothing. I was a surprised at how well the meal turned out. It's amazing what a can of mushroom soup can do for chicken breasts. After I served him, got him a fresh beer, I put my plate down. I was starving as I hadn't anything other than breakfast to eat all day. Like the last time, he pulled my plate over to his and cut my chicken in half and put one part on his plate. Crap! With the supper dishes cleaned and put away I was more than ready to get out of there. I had just finished putting on a fresh coat of vivid red lipstick, when John came over, grabbed me around the waist with one arm, the other at the back of my head and kissed me soundly on the lips. Again, though I tried to fight, his tongue probed my mouth and left a large deposit of spit when it finally withdrew. Swallowing, wanting to puke, I was released and grabbing my purse fled. I didn't stop until I reached the street. Under the street lamp, I pulled out my compact and lipstick. I repaired the damage with tears brimming my eyes and a sick feeling in my stomach before heading back to Sylvia's. Sunday, Sylvia didn't have to work and decided to do something with my shoulder length brown hair. She streaked it. Not with highlights but streaked it grey making me look much older. Then she gave me what she called a soft perm, using large bristle rollers. When she was finished I had the same hair coloring and style that she did. As I looked at the results in the mirror I could hear the air hissing out of what was left of my male ego. The longer I looked the less of a man I became both mentally and physically. The next thing she did completely defeated whatever resistance I may have had. She put a pair of her old glasses on my face. Everything went out of focus. She laughed her ass off as I stumbled around the house holding my hands out in front of me telling me that I would get use to it in time. The only time she let me take off those damn glasses was bed time. Over time the images I saw became clearer until one day I couldn't see anything without them. I guess I had been under Sylvia's mentoring for about six months when I walked into the mini mart after cleaning John's place to get him some Salem's. I had scrubbed all the floors, made the bed and cleaned the bathroom and was dead tired. I had put my hair up into a bun to keep it off my neck when I cleaned. I was wearing a pair of skin tight bright orange Capri's and a white with floral embroidered bodice cotton baby doll top. The light weight cotton revealed the black Playtex bra I had on. My makeup was thickly applied just like Sylvia's and my now two inch long talons were varnished a vivid blood red. Besides my purse, I carried my red leatherette case and puffing on a cig. As I went to the counter to get the Salem's and another pack of More 120's for myself, my mother stepped out from an aisle carrying a few items. She placed them on the counter, gave me a double take but said nothing. I was frozen. I couldn't move a muscle or say a word. Sylvia was smiling from ear to ear and began ringing up my mother's purchases. As she was doing that she looked at me and said, "Sugar, hun, you want your regular More 120's and a pack of Salem's for your boyfriend John?"