Happy If... free porn video

Happy if... The state of my life seemed perfectly constructed to make me miserable. I was out of place on every single level. I didn't fit in at school, I didn't fit in at home, and I didn't fit in my body, most of all. As a 17 year-old male of 5'4, I was either shorter or about the same height as most of the girls at my school. Also, I was overweight, kind of squatty. But being short and fat was the least of my troubles. I wished for something more. Something that seemed impossible to fulfill in any satisfactory way. I wished to be a woman. Now, I'm not gay. I know that sounds like a defense, but I know deep down, I'm not. Nor do I think I'm a lesbian trapped in a man's body. I feel an attraction to straight women, but it gets to a point where I would want to be a straight woman. I'm a pretty ugly man with a stocky body type, so it's not like I would desire to have an operation, but I wished somehow to become a sexy woman. But the criteria for what it would take to make me happy was impossible, so depressed I remained. I lived only a few blocks away from my high school, so I walked home almost every day. While on the way home, I bumped into an old woman. She was carrying a few things, and they toppled to the ground. "I'm sorry, ma'am," I said and knelt down to pick up her stuff. "Caleb," she said softly. I had a bit of a fright with that. I hadn't told her my name. "You're unhappy, but what you seek, you feel is impossible." "Wait, what are you talking about?" But I knew exactly what she was talking about. "How do you know my name?" "I know much more than that, and I have a solution for you." She reached underneath a black cloak she was wearing and pulled out a smooth stone. "Take this home, and you will be granted four wishes. Use it wisely. After the four wishes, it will cease to work, and whatever you have wished for will remain permanent." "Do you expect me to believe that, ma'am? And why four wishes? Isn't it supposed to be only three?" "Well, let's just say that magical resource use has become more efficient in recent years. And you don't have to believe me, but there is no harm in taking a rock home with you, is there? But be sure to word your wishes carefully. Due to renewable energy efforts, a well worded wish can actually grant what would have taken several wishes to grant before, as long as the subject is related." I handed her her stuff, and she handed me the stone. "Use it wisely." I was dumbfounded about what transpired. All I could think to say was "Thank you." I headed home. My mom wasn't home and wouldn't be for a week. She was on a business trip. My dad had died several years ago, leaving her the sole provider. She was sad, but I knew she did her best for me. I just couldn't find myself able to connect with her, though. I set the rock down on my desk and undressed. Though my hopes weren't high for this to work, I would want to be naked to see the full effects. I thought carefully of what my wish would be, seeing what I could maximize out of this. I had been so unhappy for so long. This was my chance. I had thought it through. It was time to speak. "I wish to be the sexiest woman in the world, with the body, mind, wardrobe, cosmetic skills, mannerisms, and sexual urges that go along with it." Nothing. But not for long. The rock glowed. I gasped. I felt a tingling all over my skin. Then, my stomach burst into an intense pain. I hollered. I doubled over. My insides were rearranging themselves. My bones cracked, and I could feel them stretch out. My short dark hair grew longer and lighter, tickling my face and continuing downward. My penis retracted into my body. My flabby abs pulled tighter as I got taller, but my ass flared out. Everywhere else slimmed down. My chest tingled. Hair fell off as two breasts formed. They grew larger and larger, growing heavy and full. And they still kept growing. My face structure changed, and when I hollered again, my voice was no longer mine, but something that sounded like a porn star. My hair, now nearing a platinum blonde, was halfway down my back. My hands slimmed. Soon, the changes were over. I stood up. I expected to topple over, but I didn't. I walked around, and found that it was compulsory to wiggle my ass and walk as if I was on a runway. I remembered. I wished for the mannerisms. It was thorough. I strutted over to my mom's room, where she had a full-length mirror. Staring back at me, I saw a goddess. No longer was I an overweight, 5'4" boy with dark hair and dark eyes. This blonde haired, blue eyed goddess, roughly 5'10" was a specimen of pure perfection. My face was gorgeous. Beautiful cheekbones, large, blue eyes, perfectly plucked eyebrows, a slightly upturned nose, pink, pouty lips and perfect, pearly teeth. My hair was like a mane of sunshine, like silk. My neck was thin, with defined bones that looked like porcelain. My tits. Oh, my...So large, so perky. The nipples were not too large, and the erect points looked like pencil erasers. They curved down to a tight, toned waist that flared up to the most perfectly sculpted hips one could dream of. My ass was thick, juicy, yet well proportioned. My legs were long and shaped, ending on small, perfect feet. My arms were thin, with a slight hint of tone. And my hands, small, had long, proportional fingers with 2 inch, manicured nails. But the biggest change of all was right in the middle. A hairless, tight slit. Flawless, waiting there like an invitation. My mind wandered to gym class, when I accidently caught a glimpse of Will Taylor, the star quarterback's, penis. So large. I moaned slightly. Soon enough, my hand had worked its way down to my pussy. I inserted a finger and whimpered. It was so sensitive. I did wish for the urges of the sexiest woman in the world. I wondered if I was still interested in women. I returned to my room as if I were a part of a runway show. I didn't mean to. It just came naturally. I opened up my computer. I tried Playboy. I stared at them, but I felt nothing. I was far more attractive than they were. In the trending now, I saw something about Ryan Reynolds. I clicked on it. He was shirtless. Again, I was fingering myself, rubbing one of my tits at the same time. I think this confirmed that I was most certainly a heterosexual female. I knew deep down that I would not be able to satisfy this urge on my own. Though the hunks would love it, I knew I couldn't go out naked. I opened up my closet, but instead of seeing t-shirts and pants, I saw an assortment of dresses, tops, skirts, jeans, shoes, and accessories with a vanity and makeup tucked in the corner. I looked in my dresser. Instead of underpants and socks, it was packed with bras, panties, and stockings. That's true. I wished for the wardrobe to go with this body, too. I suddenly knew what I wanted to wear, even though the male me would have no clue about this kind of stuff. I knew that I wanted to get screwed tonight, so I picked what I knew would facilitate that. First, a black thong that was dental floss in the back, and not much more in the front, dipping low so only the slit itself was covered. Then, a strapless black push-up bra. I checked the label. I was a 36DD. Just the perfect size. I looked at the make-up and the vanity. I instinctually knew how to apply it. I went for a theme of pink on my face. With pink lipstick, gloss and blush. I used a dark eye shadow and a thick mascara to make my blue eyes pop. I dug through a drawer and found a hair straightener. I straightened my luscious blonde hair, which extended over halfway down my back. I took out the curling iron and applied glamourous bouncy curls all over my hair. I chose a black, backless dress that showed a large amount of cleavage. I wore four inch, strappy black heels. I think it was fairly obvious what my intentions were heading outside. I grabbed a shiny, silver clutch purse that I kept my make-up kit in, along with some money. I strutted outside, the door, my ass gyrating back and forth naturally as I walked, my heels clacking. I took the subway downtown. Every single eye was on me. I accidentally dropped my purse on purpose. When I bent over to pick it up, the man in front of me staring at my cleavage got me so stimulated, I nearly orgasmed right there. I couldn't wait to have sex! I walked to the club, nearly everyone on the streets catcalling me. I was hot, and everyone knew it! I stepped up to the club's entrance, and the bouncer stated, "Alright, let's see some ID, Miss." Shit. I hadn't even thought of that. "I seemed to have left it at home," I stated, sweet and demure. "No entrance without ID." I improvised. "Well, I think I found it." I slinked toward him. "I think I left it in your pants." I teased his erect cock with my long fingernail. "But it's awfully embarrassing to take it out here. Let's go somewhere private." He hesitated, then, he took me inside and told his friend to take over. We reached some sort of backroom. When in private, I got down on my knees and unzipped his black slacks. I undid his belt, and out popped a modestly sized penis. The bouncer wasn't that cute, but I wanted in so bad. "Let me see if I can find my ID." I licked it. It twitched. I put my mouth on it. I took it all. He wasn't that big, so it was easy compared to what I knew I could do. It tasted salty, I was slightly aroused. I licked his helmet over, licked his shaft, and when he came, I swallowed. I gagged a little, then said, "I'm so sorry. I think I swallowed my ID." "It's okay. I think I got it. What's your name?" I hadn't decided on a name. "Hayley," I decided on the spot. "Hayley, you're one of the hottest women I've ever seen. And you give great head. Enjoy the club." I was in without an ID! This was so great! I decided to hit the dance floor. Hayley was a great dancer, and highly suggestive! I was grinding into nearly every crotch I could find. Now that I had made myself known, I hung around the bar a little. Sure enough, a martini came my way from that "gentleman over there." Coming into my view was a tall, dark, ruggedly handsome stud. Several inches taller than me, even in my heels, he was in great shape. "You looked lonely," he said in a rich baritone voice that tingled my pussy. "If by lonely, you mean horny, then yes, I am insatiably lonely," I moaned. He looked stunned. "Usually women are far less upfront. I'm a little caught off guard." "Well, I can tell that you're quite upfront. In fact, your front looks quite up." I stroked his erect cock, which was way larger than the bouncer's. "My place?" he asked. "Only if it's closer," I cooed in his ear. He called a cab, and we made out in the back. He forced his hand underneath my bra and fondled my large breast, and I dry humped his crotch and gasped. We pulled up to an expensive hotel. "I'm just visiting," he said. "It's a beautiful city." "Shut up and hustle or I'll jump your bones in the lobby!" I panted. We rode the elevator up, fondling one another the entire time. His room was nice, He picked me up and threw me on the bed. He ripped off my thong, dress, and unhooked my bra so all I was wearing was my jewelry and shoes. He pulled off his pants, revealing a massive, thick, 10 inch penis. "Stick it in my pussy now! I shrieked. He obliged, it plunged in. It felt incredible. He punctured my hymen. It hurt, but I didn't want him to stop. He thrust in me again and again and I screamed. He pulled out and came all over my tits. This was the best. I was a woman, and I could finally be happy. We cuddled naked, my large tits squished against him. I was happy. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx The sun shining through the hotel window awoke me. I had fallen asleep embracing my love, my, wait, I never heard his name. And where was he? I saw a note on the nightstand. It read: "Dear (I never got your name, tellingly): You were by far the easiest woman I've ever banged. You're by far the hottest woman I've ever seen in my life, even in a magazine, but you were incredibly cheap. Don't get me wrong, you were incredible, but you seemed desperate. Enclosed is 20 dollars. You were cheap like a whore, so I'll pay you like a whore. Sincerely, You never asked my name" I whimpered. A tear ran down my face, making yesterday's make-up run. I blew a man to get into the club, and I had sex with the first man I met in the club. I was a whore. My first day a woman, deflowered willingly by a man I don't know the name of. I was a woman. I was supposed to be happy, yet I was miserable. I dragged my feet over to the bathroom and stared at my naked body in the mirror. My ass was too fat. And blonde? The cheapest hair color there is. My face was puffy since I had been crying, streaked with mascara. Though they were real, my boobs looked so fake, cheap fake. I'm not real. I'm a sham of a woman. I was a sham as a boy, and I'll continue to be a shame no matter what kind of person I am. Begrudgingly, I dressed in my slutty clothes, didn't bother to fix my make-up. I was a mess no matter how I looked. Men hooted and hollered on the street and the Subway, but all I could do was hang my head in shame. I made it home and awkwardly stumbled in my heels to my room. All those clothes, this body, all wasted on a nobody. I stared at the wishing stone. Maybe I could wish to no longer be a nobody. I picked up the stone and considered the wording of my wish. "I wish I was a total superstar model, actress, socialite, and all-around A-list hottie with millions of dollars." The stone glowed. I felt my body vibrate. The word around me swirled. I blacked out. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx I awoke on a giant bed in a fancy, open mansion. This room was massive, with chandeliers everywhere. I arose from the bed. My lingerie had faux-fur trim and was encrusted with diamonds. It was white with a white thong. I stepped onto the hardwood floors. I noticed on the nightstand, there was a purse. Inside, I found a California ID. My photograph was possibly the sexiest ID photo one would ever see. It listed my name as "Hayley Wilson." I was 21, hair blonde, eyes blue, 5'10", 135 pounds, oh, and gender female. On a desk not far from there was a stack of magazines. The one on top was the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. On the cover was an entirely familiar face. "Hayley Wilson, All-American Blue-Eyed Blonde Sweetheart." My pose was incredibly sensual, my string bikini falling off of one shoulder. Up next was a Cosmopolitan. "Hayley Wilson gives her favorite sex tips to make him do whatever she wants." Interesting. People magazine. "Hayley and Jordan are America's favorite couple!" Jordan Cooper, action star, and the hottest guy I had ever seen in my life, and I were hugging and smiling on the cover. I flipped it open. There was an article on me. "Hayley Wilson scores a trifecta of box office hits this summer. First was hit superhero movie Silver Siren, in which she played the title role, a heroine with the power of hypnosis and super speed, We All Want Jenna Jane, teen comedy where she plays Jenna Jane, the hottest girl in school who all the boys at the school wish to lose their virginity to, and My Heart in Your Hands, romantic dramedy that puts her opposite Jordan Cooper, her real life romantic interest. It seems that this blonde bombshell has captivated the hearts of America, and her future looks bright." The Inquirer. "Hayley Wilson a MAN!!??? Exposed!!!" I read the article. Despite the idea being true, the article was entirely false, with it stating that I was a truck driver named Harley that got an experimental sex change operation. I was in Maxim, FHM, Playboy, as well as other, more wholesome magazines like cooking magazines for women. I was a Cover Girl Spokeswoman and recording artist (one debut album with three hit singles). However, I came across quite a few gossip magazines that referred to me as self-centered and controlling. Several insider testimonials described me as insufferable, selfish, and a pain to work with. Yet overall, it seemed that I was on top of the world. This seemed like quite the happy lifestyle. On the desk, an iPhone encrusted with what seemed like pink diamonds rang. The song was "Loving You," by me. Memories came flooding back. Working with incompetent people on the set, dates with Jordan, the sex, the modeling. The call came from, Rico, my flamboyantly gay agent. I answered it. "What's new, Rico?" "Hey, girl! You'll never believe what I just heard. This high-class lady named Victoria just told me a Secret!!!" "Rico...Just tell it to me straight." "Oooh...Straight. You must not know me well. Well, the one and only Victoria Secret wants to shoot some test shots with you! Can you believe it? Girl! Only 21, and you've accomplished just about everything! Your life must be blessed by magic!" "Ha. Well, that's not far from the truth." "But that's not the most important thing I called about. Tell me about him!" "Who?" "Who? Who? Girl! The only boy in your world right now! Maybe you haven't heard, though! Have you picked up a magazine, went online, or watched a TV show for the last 5 months!?" "Oh. Jordan's doing fine!" At that moment, memories of last night came rushing back. They fought. He got drunk and nearly hit her. "Nothing unusual." "But how does he make you feel? Your heart? Your body? Does he swing both ways, per chance?" "No Jordan's straight. I love him very much, and he's a very attractive man." Profanity. Threats of violence. He needs help. I got really nervous at that point. "Hayley, dear. Are you feeling well? Do I need to call a doctor? Let me know now!" "No. I just...I just woke up, and I'm still a bit delirious, is all." "I trust you as far as I'm attracted to you, darling. I'll get the truth out of you soon. See ya, babe! Victoria Secret wants you at their offices tonight. They want to do some angel shoots! Ciao, darling!" He hung up. It seemed that Hayley Wilsons' life was far more complicated than the magazine's let on. The phone rang again. The name popped up as "Bae." A picture of Jordan shirtless, his pants down so low that his V was showing popped up. Hesitantly, I answered it. "What is it, Jordan?" He sighed. "Listen, babe. I'm so sorry about last night. I don't know what came over me. Can we just put this behind us?" "Jordan, you're a drunk," I could feel a little fire building in me. It was weird. I didn't technically experience it firsthand, but the emotions were there. "Please. Promise me you'll get help! I love you too much!" "Not so loud, Hay! My head is killing me. I'll get help, I swear! Just don't nag so much. It's annoying." "Annoying? Annoying!? You're ruining your life, and I'm annoying! I'm trying to help you! This is far beyond nagging!" "You know, whenever someone says something you don't like, you're such a bitch." My vision blurred, and I grew red hot. "You're the biggest asshole in all of Hollywood! I have no idea why I've stuck around with you for so long!" "You know why? Because you're unhappy! I get sick and tired of constantly having to validate you. Hayley! You're not fat! You have the hottest body on the planet, and most magazines covers will agree. You crave attention and praise from others because you simply don't love yourself. You could have everything in the world, hell, you practically do, and you'd still be miserable! You know why? Cause you're a self- centered bitch that keeps me around for the sex! Don't feign trying to get me help! You're upset because I quit sweet talking you last night. Can we agree that you and I are gorgeous? But I swear, I know next to nothing about you other than how to make you orgasm! You're an ice princess! A walking magazine cover, not a person! Find something that makes you happy! I obviously don't!" I hung up. I really didn't want to listen to it. Though I was given this life by literal magic, Hayley's life seemed to operate under the same principle. I was handed everything from a very young age, winning pageants as a child, head cheerleader, leader of the volleyball team. I blossomed young, too. With C-cups by the time I was 14 and my full DD cup by the time I was 16. I remembered my daddy (who was still alive in this life) pampering me like a little princess. I got everything I wanted, and now I literally have everything: actress, model, singer, dancer. But while my movies had a huge box office draw, they rarely received critical praise, with much of the criticism stemming from my wooden acting. The entirety of my debut album was written by somebody else, and my voice was auto-tuned. I lost my virginity to the hottest guy in school at 17, but I barely remember his name. I had nothing to give to this world other than a pretty face and a body. I was nothing as Caleb. All the stone did was transfer Caleb into a pretty, wealthy shell. I explored my house. A nine-foot grand piano adorned my living room, even though I only have memories of getting piano lessons at 9, realizing that I would have to practice, and instead settled on doing things that I was naturally good at and could get by with my looks. Now it was just a $150,000 decoration. A heated pool was out back, perfect for alcohol-driven parties with all the socialites I despised. An exercise room that I rarely used. The life handed to me by the stone also had everything handed to me, including a perfect body. My amateur, more sexual than classy, dancing ensured that my body stayed fit, but I was naturally good at dancing. My mansion was big, beautiful, yet empty. Just like me. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx I decided to shower and get ready for the day. I shaved every inch of my body, blow dried and curled my hair, applied light, summery make-up with pink lipstick, and wore a low cut sundress and three-inch, straw- heeled sandals. Being in this house all alone was making me so depressed. Maybe getting some attention out on the street would cheer me up! Unlike many celebrities, I made no effort to disguise myself, fully intending to be noticed and fawned over. I wore a thong, as it was a windy day, and if my dress blew up, I might get some attention in that area. I loaded my make-up and other belongings into my purse and left my home. My mansion was gated, and my car (several of them, knowing little about cars), was in a garage off to the side that had to be opened by a security guard. I chose a red convertible, wanting to be noticed as best as possible. I left my premises and headed toward one of the shopping centers in LA. I parked my convertible in a garage, descended down to ground level, and walked the streets, fully hoping to be seen. It happened immediately. "OMG, it's Hayley Wilson!" a teenage girl shouted, pronouncing O-M-G like it was any shorter than saying the full word. She ran over to me. She was a lot shorter than me, probably 5'3", she wore braces, her skin complexion was spotty, and her tummy was a little flabby. "I'm your biggest fan! I cried so many times during My Heart in Your Hands. That halter top you wore during the airport scene was so cute!" "Um, yeah, thanks," I said in a faux-dismissive tone. It was empowering to feel above someone else, especially a little person like this nobody girl. "I wake up to 'Girl Time' every day. I know it wasn't a single, but I think that was my favorite song!" "Do you want an autograph? I've got places to be," I bitched. I did appreciate it, but acting this way made me feel so much more empowered. "Yeah, I do," she seemed slightly disappointed that Hayley Wilson wasn't as friendly as she acted in interviews. She took a bubblegum pink backpack of her shoulders and pulled out a cheap fountain pen and a piece of paper. I tried writing with it. The ink wasn't coming out. The girl panicked. "Wait wait! Not that one!" She dug through her backpack, removing paperclips, a sticky nail polish bottle, tissues, searching tirelessly for another pen. Eventually, she found one. It looked like the bottle of nail polish had exploded on it, and it was quite sticky to the touch. "I am so sorry! It's really sticky and gross, and I really don't want you to have to touch it! Your hands are beautiful, and-" "Just give it to me. I don't have time!" I grabbed it from her hand. "What's your name?" "Jessie, with an 'ie!' It's short for Jessica, and it's a boy's name if it's just an 'e' usually. I'm Jessica Cameron, a freshman at Highland High School! I'm actually 4th cousins with Kirk Cameron, so I guess I have an in, you know, but you're the hottest, coolest famous person, and it's so amazing that I met you, haha!" This girl was a nervous wreck. I handed her the paper and pen and walked away. "Do you think I could get a picture with you?" she called out. I extended a pretty, manicured middle finger behind my back as I strutted. As soon as she saw the paper, she would have read, "Jessie, get a life! Hayley Wilson (heart)" I strutted all over the outside mall, photographs, cat calls, people wanting my autograph. It felt great, and until I returned home, I had nearly forgotten about my conversation with Jordan. But at home, there it was again, and there was nobody to distract me from the silence. I screamed, it sounding much like a scream queen from a horror movie (a role surely not far off in my career). Nobody came. I screamed again, louder than before, only the echoes from my high ceiling answered back. I really was an awful bitch to Jessie. It felt great at the time, but I really ruined her day, I bet. I started to cry, my light mascara running. "WHY!?" I hollered. As Caleb, I wanted so much to be a woman. Here I was, certifiably the sexiest, most famous woman on the planet, and I was no better off! "WHY!?" I called again, hoping something, someone, would answer. Soon enough, it came time to head to the Victoria Secret offices. Knowing they would do make-up and clothes there, I went as I was. I took a different car, a more inconspicuous, black Honda with a roof. I made it to the offices, and Rico was there. "Girl, you look sad. What's wrong? Is it Jordan?" "It's everything," I stated coolly. This was business time. There was no room for emotions. "I really hope you're up for this." "I need someone to tell me I'm beautiful." The photographer was a European man named Pieter. Long hair, stubble, nice enough. They took me backstairs to do my make-up and hair. Pounds of it, and hair free and feathered so it would respond well to the fan behind me. They took me through a set of several lingerie, swimsuits, and even some of the clothing they sold. Finally, the last thing they tried was the angel lingerie and wings. Backstage afterwards, while still dressed as an angel, I heard Pieter through the other room. "You know, I doubt that they'll pick Hayley up. She oozes sex, yes, but we like our angels to ooze class, and she's about as classy as a stripper. A classy stripper, for sure, but still a stripper." I teared up. That was about all I could handle for today. For a life. I ran out of the building, still dressed as an angel, crying and freezing, as it was nighttime. I got in my car and drove. But I don't think I wanted to drive home. I headed toward the docks at Santa Monica. I could make another wish to try to fix my life, but it wouldn't matter. Caleb Matthews, whether a high school nobody or superstar Hayley Wilson, was defective. I had no place in this world, and no magic rock could fix it. The docks were the only solution. This was a really poor part of town. Seedy, scummy, and there were lots of homeless people. I tried not to look at them. It had always made me sad to look at them. The traffic was really congested. There was probably an accident up ahead. I was only moving 5 mph, when a homeless person walked out in front of me. I braked and hit the horn. I tried not looking, but I saw him. He couldn't have been older than seven, wearing rags and covered in dirt. I put the car in park and got out. I was shivering cold wearing practically nothing but lingerie and wings. I looked down at him. "I almost hit you, kid!" I whispered harshly. "Are you an angel?" he asked, staring at my outfit. His voice crackled. He must have been thirsty. "Well, actually, I'm likely to get rejected." "Are you my mommy? Can you take me to her?" He was so famished and thirsty. "Is it okay if I take you to my place? I can fix you some food and get you something to drink." "You're really pretty. I bet you're nice!" "Well, a lot of people would disagree, but I've got stuff for you at my place!" "Okay!" He climbed into the backseat of my car. Lots of cars were honking at my parked car. I turned down an alley that would allow me to travel in the opposite direction. "So, kid. What's your name?" I asked. "I'm Jonas. What's your name?" "I'm Hayley." It surprised me that didn't recognize me. "Do you know my mommy?" "I can't say I do. Why do you ask?" "Well, it's just that she's an angel now, too, and I thought you had been sent by God to come and find me." My heart sunk. It's not that I didn't expect that's what it was, but for him to state it in such an innocent, heartbreaking way made me tear up even more than I had been before. I forgot about being called a cheap whore. About being insulted by Jordan. I cried for Jonas. "Hayley, I think you have pretty eyes. You said people don't think you're nice, but I bet if they saw your eyes, they would see how nice you can be." "Thank you, Jonas," I said, choking back tears. "That's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me." "I bet you smile pretty. Your teeth are really nice. You should smile more." I thought back to my modelling portfolio. Bratty, pouty, sexy. Not many smiles. "I'll do that." We pulled into the gate to my mansion. The house looked the same on the outside, but inside, it felt much warmer. Jonas and I ran into the kitchen. First and foremost, I got him water in a champagne glass. He drank it up quickly. "Jonas, what do you like to eat? I can cook something, or I can order something. Just, whatever you like." "I want you to cook something. I bet the stuff you make yourself is tasty. I'll eat anything you make, so surprise me!" In a cupboard, I had a flipbook of recipes. One in particular caught my attention as being particularly appropriate. I got out the ingredients. "Jonas, do you want to help me cook it?" "Sure, Hayley! I'd love to!" He ran up to me and hugged me. "You feel cold. Do you want to get dressed?" "As soon as we get this in the oven. We're going to make an angel food cake!" We cracked eggs and dumped flour, and I guided his hand on the mixing bowl. My hand over his, we placed the cake in the preheated oven. He hugged me afterwards. Unlike with Jordan, I felt affection. I felt sexual energy from Jordan, but from Jonas, I felt something more akin to love. Love I hadn't experienced since I was a young child named Caleb. My mom hugged me dearly, and I felt that love, but when my father passed, I just couldn't receive it anymore, and I retreated inward. Everything I had was taken from me, and everything I wanted was impossible, or so I thought. Here I was, the sexy woman I had fantasized about it. Perhaps maybe, the other impossibility, my happiness, could come true, too. "Okay, Jonas, I'm going to go get dressed in something else. Make yourself comfortable, but don't get lost. It's a big house." I trotted up the spiral stairs in my heels. I walked into my large closet, wondering what to wear. Push-up bras, thongs, short skirts, low cut tops. I decided on a pair of boy shorts with a well-fitted bra, a plain white t-shirt, a baby blue hoodie to go over it, and a pair of jeans. For shoes, I wore sneakers. I brushed the glamorous curls out of my hair, settling on a more subdued wave in my long blonde hair. I pinned my hair back with bobby pins, making sure that my big, blue eyes were very visible. I looked in the mirror and smiled. My perfect, pearly whites nearly glimmered back. I was incredibly beautiful, dressed for comfort and warmth. I had a feeling that Jonas would need someone warm. From downstairs, I heard the plunking of notes on my grand piano. But soon enough, the plunking turned into a familiar melody. I had heard it before. It was simple. "Loving you is the hardest and the best thing in my life," I sang over the top of it, barely having to adjust my rhythm. "Loving you brings the fire. When the night is cold and full of pain and strife. Loving you is entire." I stepped down the stairs and saw Jonas at the piano. "Jonas, where did you learn that?" I asked, choking up. "I heard it on a radio on the street a few days ago. I've been humming it, and I plunked it out by ear. I've never played piano before, so I don't think it was very good. But I liked that song. It reminded me of my mom. The singer had a really pretty voice. Have you heard it before?" "Yes, actually." I made it all the way down the stairs and ran to him. I lead him over to the couch, where I hugged him, stroking his hair and singing him the words to "Loving You," by Hayley Wilson through tears. "I like how you sing it better. The one thing I didn't like is how I could tell they fed her voice through a computer. Even if some of the notes were wrong, I like real people better." The kitchen timer went off. We took it out together, and we left it on the counter to cool. We went back to the piano. I had an idea. It was a long shot, but if I could piece everything I had brewing in my head together, I bet I could someone's day. I pulled out my CD. The picture of me was gorgeous, as always, but the art department put a filter on my picture, washing it out with a sort of light. I didn't care for the pictures initially, but I think they were trying to build a lighter image for me than how I really was. I put it in the stereo, and turned it to the song, "Girl Time." "Jonas, how many different parts of this can you pick out?" I played the whole thing. It was only a minor, 2 and a half minute song, so we weren't out much time. After one play-through, he had picked out the melody for the chorus. A second time, the entire song's melody. By four listens, his left hand was playing the bass line with one finger. "Hayley, if you sang it, I could play more with my right hand, because I'm playing all the word parts." He somehow picked out a synthesizer part that was fairly buried in the production. He started playing the chorus on a loop, staring at me so I would come in. "Oh, when I'm out with my boy, yeah, I guess you'd call it boy time, boy time. But when I get the most joy, yeah, I call that my girl time, girl time. I love my bae to pieces, but together, that's our toy time, toy time, but when I get the most joy, yeah, I call that my girl time, girl time." This was incredible! I now knew where the term diamond in the rough came from! A prodigy in the slums! We figured out the entire song, and he was playing an impressive reduction of the instruments, hindered only by his small hands. "And you've never taken lessons!?" I exclaimed. "Mommy was going to get me lessons, but then the accident happened, and I didn't see her after that." He started to tear up. I bent down and hugged him. I picked him up and squeezed him and kissed him on the cheek, the Victoria Secret make-up leaving a residue. "Let's go check on the cake!" It was almost ready, so we cut up some strawberries. I got out forks and let him have at it. Normally, my ultra-fit and healthy trigger would have activated knowing how much sugar was in this. But I think I could cheat once, and I honestly didn't care if I weighed 200 pound at that moment. I put a large piece of cake in front of Jonas, and he just bowed his head. "What's the matter?" I asked. "I'm praying. Is it okay if I pray out loud?" he said. I was raised in a household that from ages 1 to 10, we only went church on Easter, and after that, it was not a part of my life. While not a believer, and a slim chance of being converted as such, I believed in Jonas, so I said, "Go ahead." "O, Lord," he began, "I thank thee so much for being alive. And I thank thee for sending your angel Hayley down to save me. Lord, please bless her. She seems sad, and I think she's the most beautiful person in the world. Will you send an angel down to help her? Thank you so much for this food, and thank you for Hayley cooking it. Please bless those less fortunate than me. I say these things in Jesus' name. Amen." "Amen," I squeaked out through tears. As a teenager (in both timelines), it was easy to go into a train of thought or a vocal expression about evolution and the Crusades and Fundamentalism, but none of that mattered right now. If a God existed, He had already sent an angel down for me. Jonas devoured his cake. The recipe said that it served 6, but after I ate a small piece, Jonas ate all the rest of it. He groaned afterward. "So full. I gotta go lie down!" I scooped him to lay him down on the couch. Holding him in my arms, he stared up at me. He lethargically lifted a hand and stroked my cheek. "Your eyes are...so kind." He started to close his eyes, getting more and more drowsy. I placed him gently on the couch, dug through a closet, and got out a fluffy pink blanket. Sure, it was for "girls" like me, but it was by far the comfiest one I had, and he would love it. After he had fallen asleep, I had quite a few phone calls to make. First item was calling Rico about Jonas. He answered. "Girl, they are sure pissed about you stealing their lingerie. If this gets out, the gossip magazines will be all over this." "Rico, I'll figure that out later. Do you think you could figure out for me how to adopt a child?" "Ooo. Publicity stunt. Get a child from Uganda, raise him with Jordan, a bit of philanthropy to improve public image. I like it." "No. This child is from California. And actually, I'd prefer the media didn't know about this one." "Well, that's impossible to keep that up for too long. They're gonna find out. Do you know how many photographs of you exist that were not from shoots? They're gonna see that you have a kid." "Well, let them see him. But I'm not doing this for me. I'm doing it for him. I found him on the streets." But that may have been a half- lie. I can definitely say that I loved the feeling I got from Jonas. "A change of image, I see! We'll see how long this lasts." The conversation ran through a few technical issues related to adoption and also some upcoming shoots, a few offers for movies (including a villain in a superhero movie), and how to save face with Victoria Secret. After the call ended, I made another call. The wardrobe director on My Heart in Your Hands, Julie. "Hey, Jules, I have a bit of a favor to ask. You know the halter top I wore in that scene at the airport? You know, the shiny, silver one with the jeweled neckline? I was wondering if you have that. Oh, and if you have it in a shorter size." "That's...oddly specific, but I am a miracle worker. How soon do you want it?" "By tomorrow morning, maybe?" "That would be tough, but that was my favorite outfit. I know exactly where it is, and I have several of them for whatever actress I think can show it off. You were my first one, darling." "Well, I can compensate you for this, however much you need." "We'll talk later. I'll be over in a few hours." "Oh, and do you have anything for a young boy, around seven?" "I have everything, dear." "Well, can I get a few shirts, pants, shoes and a hoodie, or something? He's pretty skinny, so I'd err on the side of small." "No idea what this is about, but I can oblige." I got on my iPhone and searched for public schools in the Los Angeles area. Coming from the Mid-West and a city that was somewhere quite below big, yet far above small, the amount of school districts was staggering. I found a Highland High School that was near the same neighborhood as that mall, and I was sure that that was what I was looking for. My last item of business was securing a synthesizer from the recording studio. They could have a Korg at my mansion by morning. Julie dropped off everything I needed, and it was time to fall asleep for a big day tomorrow. I got in my pajamas (silk pink) and crashed on the couch right next to Jonas. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx I awoke the next morning with a new text message on my phone. It was from Jordan. "Hayley, it's over. I can't do this to myself anymore. I'm angry every time I'm around you, and I found someone else. You'll read about it soon enough, I'm sure, but she's so much more passionate than you. And the sex was incredible last night. I know I'll see you again. We live in an interconnected world, but here's to hoping you're never in my life again." Indeed, it registered an emotional response, but at this time, Jordan was so not important to me. I woke up, careful not to disturb Jonas, and I made a hearty breakfast for him. Bacon, eggs, toast, you name it. After he woke up and ate, I decided that it was right to go and bathe him. He took off his clothes. He was caked in dirt, and there were lacerations all over is famished torso. He climbed in the bath, which I put bubble bath in, and he took care of a few things. He asked me to wash his hair, and being a bona fide hair expert, I agreed. His locks were thick and dark and curly. It was beautiful, and I ran my fingers all through it. I laid out a set of outfits for him, letting him choose what to wear. He dismissed me, saying he knew how to put on clothes. I went and got ready myself. Taking a thorough shower, shaving my entire body, applying lotion, and blow drying my hair. I took out my own personal copy of My Heart in Your Hands and skipped to the airport scene. Along with the shiny halter top, I wore hoop earrings, shiny lip gloss, my hair was wavy, gold bangles adorned my wrists, my pants were white, leather, and skin tight, a diamond studded belt, and boots that went knee high and over my pants, black with a four inch heel. I analyzed the scene and groomed myself to a very close approximation of my make-up and hair and style in that scene. I looked in the mirror. I was gorgeous, sexy, stylish. I smiled. And I was beautiful. Jonas chose a long sleeved, white and green striped shirt and a grey hoodie, with loose-fitting jeans and sneakers. He looked comfortable. And happy. "Hayley, where are we going?" he asked. "We're going to go visit someone who needs a little cheering up." I received a text from the recording studio telling me that the keyboard was at the location. It was show-time. I pulled up in my red convertible in the parking lot to a high school in a low income area. I was cat called by blue collar workers and Hispanic teens at stop lights, and I didn't mind it, given how glamorous I looked. The only time I minded it was when someone used strong language around Jonas. I clomped and strutted up to the check-in office, and the receptionist nearly dropped her coffee. "Hayley Wilson!? What are you doing here!?" She was excited and nervous. "It's an honor!" "Thank you," I said, meekly. "I would like to know the class schedule of a Jessica Cameron, and would it be alright if I paid her a visit?" "You're kidding...Jessie Cameron. THE Jessie Cameron with a Hayley Wilson lunch box and backpack? I know her mother. It would be more than alright for you to pay her a visit. She's in a math class right now. 3rd period with Mr. Hanson. Room 215." She stood up. "I'll show you. I can't miss this!" Jonas and I followed her up a flight of stairs, and my assistant was carrying a Korg keyboard and stand behind us. The receptionist entered Mr. Joseph Hanson's room first. "Jessie Cameron? There's someone here to see you. It's not your mom this time." "Who is it?" the young, squeaky voice of Jessie sounded far more sullen than her chipper ramblings yesterday. I sent my assistant and Jonas in first, delaying the suspense. They had the keyboard set up to where Jonas could play it like a piano. I made some defined clomps in my heeled boots and walked into the room, trying to mimic my mannerisms from the airport scene. The entire room gasped, and Jessie screamed a choked, awkward noise that would have been embarrassing had she any cognition left in her to be embarrassed at this point. One hand on hip, I queued Jonas with the other to begin playing. Out came a novice, but impressive, considering his training, rendition of the opening of "Girl Time." Though I had no auto-tune, I sang the best I could. I danced around a bit, making sure that my moves were age appropriate and fun. I leaned over at one point, causing nearly every boy in the class's eyes to bug out. The girls all sang along at the chorus, screaming and cheering. Jessie was crying. Absolutely bawling her eyes out. When the song completed, there were cheers. I beckoned for Jessie to come to me. I leaned over and hugged her. She slobbered on my shoulder, but I was perfectly fine with it. "Jessie, I think you got a life," I whispered in her ear, stroking her hair with my painted nails, "And it's fantastic." I gave my assistant a signal, and he brought in a piece of clothing on a hangar. Shiny and free. "Jessie, I think you'll look even more stylish than me in this halter top," I raised my voice and looked at the class, "Wouldn't you agree!?" The boys, busy staring at my large and quite exposed chest, said, "Uh, yeah! Jessie's cool!" I didn't really notice the teacher, who had been sitting behind his desk. He stood up. When he spoke in his rich baritone, I turned around, and my heart skipped a beat. "Well, Miss Wilson, I think you brought a really incredible experience to our school. Thank you." Oh, my! While certainly I noticed his sculpted pecs, his bulging arms, his washboard abs, the sizeable bulge in his pants, and his dark, wavy, hair, I will say with complete honesty that his rich, brown eyes drew me in first. If I learned something from Jonas, it was that you could tell a lot about a person from their eyes. My top was low cut, my pants were painted on, but I could tell where he was staring. Right back into my eyes. "You're welcome, Mr. Handsome, I mean- Hanson." The class laughed. I was embarrassed, and I blushed red hot. "It's quite alright, Miss Wilson, and you can call me Joe." I nervously extended a hand, "Well, I'm Hayley!" He laughed. It was a warm laugh. "I know who you are." He took my hand and encased it. I placed my other hand on his, and stared up into his eyes. Even with heels, he was still taller than me. We stared for quite a while. It was only broken by the class "ooo"-ing. We broke away. I was quite embarrassed. "Erm-thank you for the visit, but I must get back to my lesson. It's geometry, you know, and I'm really into shapely things, er-I mean shapes." "Well, I appreciated your time, Joe!" I turned around in a graceful motion and sauntered away, wiggling my ass in the most sexualized way I could without it being inappropriate for children. I walked out the door and shivered. What a kind man! I looked down at my chest. I was nipping out hardcore. The receptionist laughed. "Yeah, Mr. Hanson has that effect on most of us. But not once has one of us had an effect on him. He's been forlorn since his fianc? died." "HE'S SINGLE!?" I blurted out in a split second, then, I back tracked. "I am so sorry for his loss." "We all are. He's a really great guy, and his fianc? was beautiful, not as beautiful as you, of course, but he misses her dearly. It's been a year now. Joe's still kind, but, you can tell he's putting on an act. He would cry every day if he weren't so resilient in public." She led Jonas and I back to the entrance. "You liked that teacher, didn't you, Hayley?" Jonas asked. "Yeah, I did." "Well, you should kiss him sometime. Maybe ask him on a date." "Jonas, you're seven. Who taught you to be matchmaker?" "I just think he makes you happy, so be with him." It was nearly noon, and the school wouldn't get out until about 3:30. I looked up some locations on my phone. "Jonas, have you ever gone bowling?" xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx We drove to a bowling alley in a strip mall about a half hour away from the school. Everywhere I went, I turned heads, and this was no exception. I heard mumbling. "Holy shit. Is that Hayley Wilson?" Most were considerate enough to see that I was busy. I only signed 4 autographs out of a potential 50. I wasn't very good at bowling. Too afraid of my boobs popping out to get a good run. Unfortunately, the airport outfit didn't call for a sports bra and yoga pants. I put on the bumpers, and Jonas beat me by 50 points. Afterwards, we went to get ice cream across the street. Jonas gobbled it up like he had been starving for months (which, of course, he had). By the time we were done, it was 3 o'clock. Just enough time to get back to the school. Kids were pouring out, and everyone, especially the senior boys, were in awe at seeing the sexiest woman alive. I made my way back to Joe's classroom. He was erasing equations off of his chalkboard, his muscles rippling. I cleared my throat. "Excuse me. Joe?" He turned his head, and his body fluttered when he saw me. "Hayley. What can I help you with?" "Well, I was just, uh. Just wondering, if you, uh wanted to do something after you're done working." I was a nervous wreck. Never in my life had a man done this to me. I was usually in control. "I'd love to, Hayley, but I'm volunteering at a fundraiser tonight. I'm booked." My heart sank, then rose again. "Could I come with? What's going on?" "Well, there's a girl in my neighborhood with cancer. We're trying to raise money, but hope looks bleak. The treatment is expensive, and people just aren't interested. I'm gonna be working the tables, cleaning floors, just basically anything, but I'm scared that the involvement would be low." "Would a visit by Hayley Wilson get people interested?" I asked. His eyes lit up. "You wouldn't." "I would. I'll do anything you need me to, donate as much money as you would like." He was more than a little excited. "Six thirty! Can I give you the address!?" "Sure thing. What should I wear?" "Oh, clothes, I guess!" He backtracked a bit. "Have you ever seen the movie Frozen? Little Kimberly loves that movie, and if it's possible, it would make her life if you came as Elsa." When I was Caleb, I was more peripherally aware of Frozen than familiar with it. I had heard the song, "Let It Go" and had seen artwork from it. "Is that the blonde one?" I asked. "Yeah, and you're hair is beautiful and perfect for it!" he said. My heart fluttered. "You think my hair is beautiful?" "Of course," he said, nervously. "All of you is beautiful." "But what's the most beautiful part of me?" I asked, expecting him to say tits or ass or legs, but, you know, in nicer terms. "Well, I think the most beautiful thing about you is what you did for Jessie. I think I've had the perception of you as a drama queen, self- centered. But I don't think that's true at all. You have a warm smile, and friendly eyes, and-uh-" "What else?" I wanted to hear more. "Well, it goes without saying that you're one sexy woman. I've never seen a rear end move that way!" "I knew it! You were staring!" "But answer me this, Hayley. Did you, uh, did you, shit! In too deep now! Did you...want me to?" He was so cute! "Well, it may have crossed my mind." I strutted close to him, one foot in front of the other. I gently caressed his shoulder, wrapped my arms around him, leaned in close, and looked into his eyes. He looked about ready to kiss me. He began moving his lips toward mine. I felt his breath on my cheek, but then, he pulled his head away, turned toward the window, looked dismissively outside, and coldly said, "Thank you so much for agreeing to help tonight. I look forward to seeing you make someone else smile." His shoulders were tight, he was shaking, apparently holding back tears. I left, feeling quite crestfallen. I really hope I didn't upset him. Why did I put the moves on him even after I knew he was suffering? I just hoped he could forgive me. I gave Julie a call. I asked for Elsa, and when I told her the cause, she cleared out her entire evening to make me over. Jonas and I made our way to her studio, where she gave me the works, putting my hair in a long braid, giving me a long sleeved blue dress, and making me up so I would sparkle. She showed me the reference picture for Elsa. It was uncanny how much I looked like her, but, of course, real and much sexier. The location was a church in an inner city, not the fancy Catholic kind with the stained windows, but the kind where it turns into a basketball court if you move a screen. The operations were held inside this basketball court part, where a man with a white cowboy hat, possibly this little girl's uncle, was officiating. "Now, little Kimberly is a tough soul, and I know that the good God above will allow us to raise $50,000 dollars tonight for all the medicine and oper-oper-" I clomped in, fully dressed as Elsa. He went silent, and the entire crowd turned their head in shock. "It looks like we have a visitor from Arendelle here to wish Kimber well! Someone go find Kimberly right now!" I strutted up to the front of the stage, all eyes on me. "I'll help out in any way I can!" I said. He turned his mouth away from the microphone "Miss Wilson, I don't know what inspired you to come here tonight dressed like that, but all I know is that it was an inspired source. All you have to do is be here, and the rest will work itself out." Then in the microphone, he shouted, "Hey, there she is!" They wheeled out a bald little girl in a wheelchair. Her green eyes grew the size of dinner plates when she saw me. "Elsa!" she croaked out. In my long dress, I practically glided over to Kimberly. "Elsa!" "I came to see you, Kimberly! I hope you get so much better!" She looked down. "You don't sound like Elsa." I had to improvise quickly. I had never seen the movie, only heard that song on the radio. I put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Let it go." She giggled, but it led to a coughing fit. "I know Elsa is just a cartoon! I was just teasing!" She coughed some more. "But you're really pretty! After I get better, I want hair just like yours!" "Well, I bet you could grow even better hair! This is my hair. I bet Kimberly could have even prettier hair." I looked her in the eyes, leaning over and stroking the back of her head. "Kimberly is plenty beautiful." She coughed again. And again. "Thank-cough-you-cough!" They had to wheel her away. She was much too sick to talk for too long. At this point, more and more people were flooding into this church. Due to the advent of cell-phones, it didn't take long to get out that Hayley Wilson was at this fundraiser. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joe. He was watching me, longingly, out in the middle of the crowd. The announcer started up again. "Wow, did that make Kimber's day! For those of you just walking in, Elsa here paid our little Kimber a visit. Kimber is sick with a rare type of cancer. The treatment has a high success rate, but it's expensive. We're hoping to raise $50,000 tonight. Please, all of you here, please make a donation. Any amount that you can will be appreciated." I picked up my skirts and waded through the audience toward Joe. He beckoned me out into the hallway. He seemed to be avoiding eye contact as he spoke to me. "That was a really nice thing you did. Thank you." "Thank you for having me. It felt incredible to do something nice for someone else," I said. He paused for a long time. "You remind me of her. Of Lisa." I decided to say nothing, waiting out another long pause. "It was cancer, too." Pause. He locked his hands together and rotated his thumbs around one another. "And, I worked so hard. Day in and day out. Her beautiful brown locks falling out. Her figure whittling away. But when I looked into those beautiful blue eyes, I knew that my love for her would never die." Pause. He started rubbing his fourth finger. "You're different in real life than I've seen you in movies and magazines. Every picture, you looked haughty, self-centered, your blue eyes seemed more piercing than pleasing. But when I see you in person." Pause. "When I see your eyes." Pause. "I see Lisa. Twice today, you've gone out of the way to do something nice for someone I care about." Pause. "But your eyes. So much like Lisa's." Pause. "And." He started shaking. "I-I can't. I can't get hurt again." Shoulders tight. "Joe, I am so sorry I made you feel that way today," I started choking up a bit. "The last thing I would ever want to do to someone like you is hurt you." "You know, I used to be in pretty poor shape. Throughout high school and college, I wore baggy clothes, trying to cover up my flabby body and skinny arms. One day, a goddess came into my life. Beautiful, sweet, and kind. She loved me despite my body. In fact, she convinced me that she loved me because of it. Never before in my life had I felt so great about being out of shape. When she passed, I hit the gym every day. I thought maybe bodybuilding would be a defense against those memories. Those painful memories. But I'm realizing something now. Those memories weren't painful. Depressed and alone throughout most of school, an angel came into my life and lifted me up from that. Now, I'm in better shape than ever, I have a steady job, and there's a lot of people who consider me important in their lives. I honestly couldn't say that before I met her. It hurt so much to lose Lisa, my fianc?, my muse, that I forgot how much having her in the first place meant to me. Am I so afraid to lose another warm body next to mine that I will deny myself of having one to begin with?" He turned around to face me. He stared straight into my eyes, which were now watering, and my mascara was dripping. "Hayley Wilson, my social status is far below yours, but I was wondering." He paused. "Do you, uh, want to do something after you're done working?" xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Along with my donation, Kimberly's fundraiser raised a staggering 5 million dollars. I began dating Joe, trying and failing to keep Jordan and my break-up secret from the media. The gossip magazines found out pretty quickly that I was dating a math teacher and had successfully adopted a 7-year old orphan. Talk shows across the country wanted to hear about how I had such a drastic change. I took on less movie roles than I had before, choosing only to play the good girls. I honestly didn't think I had it in me to play a villain. The process of dating Joe went much slower than the initial meeting would have suggested. While I got a kiss by the second date, he seemed apprehensive about getting more intimate than that. And I was perfectly fine with that. I had based my entire life and thought processes around sex, and to build up a gentler relationship was far more exciting to me. By the second month, though, we were spooning and making out. Six months in, it happened. Neither one of us said anything, but while spooning on my couch (Jonas already in bed), I caressed the inner portion of his leg. He reached underneath my top, underneath my bra, and fondled my large breast. I moved to take his shirt off, and he took my top off. He unhooked my bra as we necked, and before I knew it, we were making love. I say making love, because for the first time, I felt a connection beyond an animalistic tendency. For the first time, I didn't care how large his penis was, but how he utilized it to make me feel wonderful. I did everything I could to increase his pleasure. It was a beautiful experience, and it felt like so much more than sex. Joe was far more than a body. He was a soul. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Happy for the first time in my life, I was fairly content. But still, despite everything in my life going wonderfully, I couldn't shake the feeling that something remained unresolved. I knew not whether what I was thinking was even an issue in this reality, but I was losing sleep over it, and Joe was concerned. One day, I decided to do something about it. I packed my luggage and took a private jet to a small city in Ohio. I wore white heeled sandals, a denim mini-skirt, and a white t-shirt. I clacked up the drive-way to a house that looked so familiar yet so distant. I rang the doorbell with my pink fingernails, brushed my long blonde hair behind my shoulders, and adjusted the cute bag I brought with. A familiar, short, heavy-set woman answered the door and looked shocked. "Hayley Wilson, at my house!? What can I-I h-help you with, Miss Wilson?" "Linda Matthews," I began, "did you happen to have a son named Caleb?" A look of astonishment washed over her face. "Who told you about Caleb?" "Linda, I have something to tell you regarding him. May I come in?" "Yes, yes, please!" I stepped inside the familiar home. She beckoned me toward the dining table, where I sat down in a chair, smoothing my skirt and crossing my legs. "What can you tell me about my son!?" She seemed desperate. I felt awful, but at the same time, glad that I had decided to resolve this. "Your son...Caleb is...is me, Mom." Her heart sank, then she looked angry. "Am I in the pilot for a hidden camera show!? It's not funny!" "I know it's not. Remember when I was 12, and I wore your shoes? I told you that I was clomping spiders, but it was really because I wanted to be a woman." "So, you're telling me that you, Hayley Wilson, are a tranny!? Wow, surgery has come a long ways! You only look NOTHING LIKE CALEB! Do they make you grow half a foot with surgery now!?" "No, Mom. It wasn't surgery. It was magic." I began digging in my bag. "Miss Wilson, you just lost me even more." I got out the stone. "When I was Caleb, an old woman gave me this wishing stone one day. I used it to wish that I was a beautiful woman. When that didn't work out, I wished to be rich and famous. The next day, I woke up as the one and only Hayley Wilson." "You have one more chance, Miss Wilson. I don't find this funny at all." I thought of something that only we would know. With one last chance, I tried. "When I was nine, shortly before Dad died, we were on the couch together. You were cuddled with him, and he whispered in your ear, 'Your eyes are beautiful.' Sure, I could have made that up, but you started crying. After he died, you wore sunglasses a lot more. Even indoors. I remember that distinctly." "...Caleb?" She looked at me. She didn't say it, but I knew I had convinced her. "Why were you so depressed for so long?" "Well, I had a deep fantasy of being a woman. You would try so hard to cheer me up, but I would reject it. You couldn't possibly understand, so I kept it a secret from you. I was too miserable to do anything. The months before I made that wish, I had pretty much given up on life. Nobody could do anything for me." "Caleb. I was suffering so much. And with your father dead, I needed someone to get attached to. I needed you. You could have done something for me and let me into your life. These last four years have been Hell. I haven't tried dating. What was the point when the two most important men in my life left me? I hope you're happy with the life you've made for yourself. All those charities you've started, and you hadn't a care for your mother. But I guess I'm not your mother anymore. The son I remember wasn't a spoiled daughter." I looked over the stone. "Mom, is it okay if I make a wish for you? Maybe figure out how to make a better life for you?" "Go ahead. Maybe my better life will be less lonely." I looked at the stone. "I wish my mother was as beautiful as I was." And nothing happened. And suddenly I got it. "I get it... Mom, I get it!" "What do you get!?" "You already are as beautiful as I am!" "Since when is a grapefr