Filling In For Beth Part 8 free porn video

Filling in for Beth - part 8 "Everything has to be perfect." I would say it all day, like a mantra. The roast was ready to go into the oven, the girls were confined to their rooms for the next hour and the air in the bathroom was so warm and thick with moisture I could barely tell when my ass touched the water. I sank into the oversized tub until I felt water reach my neck and crinkle against the back of the heavy duty shower cap that protected my hair. In Tom's tub I can even get my boobs underwater. They try to float and it's wonderful to be free of the weight for a moment. The job starts at the feet and I work my way up, checking every inch for stubble as I go, then I do it again, because everything has to be perfect, even the parts nobody will see. The whole process is terribly dull really but the radio plays quietly in the background, the bathwater is warm and I just love the way my skin feels now. I pat myself dry and apply lotion all over, another boring but necessary step, while making one final check for stubble. Hands and feet are already perfect, thanks to Nadine. Finally I stood up tall, put my shoulders back and stepped in front of the mirror. It's not like I hadn't looked at myself plenty before today but rarely on purpose since the procedure and never all over naked with the lights on. My face was colorless and washed out without makeup and the shower cap just made me look stupid. Do I always look so frightened? I undid the towel and let it drop. My legs were the same skinny sticks I brought from the hospital, hairless and slightly plumped out in the thighs. There was some new padding in my rear but I would never have Beth's hips. Mine look boxy and narrow, which is weird because we have nearly the same measurement, 35 inches. You could count the ribs under my boobs and my pelvic bones protruded, yet my belly still had a rounded, soft look. There was the problem. My waist was 28 inches, Beth's was probably something like 24. Every little motion caused my boobs to wiggle slightly, begging for attention like hungry children. In a way they remind me of Tom; too large, impossible to miss and with zero control over themselves. I'm not going to lie, in many ways they were as perfect as the picture in the doctor's office. Big, heavy and ripe after they'd settled a little. The aureola that seemed, to my eye, to have more than doubled in size over the last year looked cute and undersized in comparison. But I'd been kneading and squeezing them for a month by then, clinically, per a set schedule, so some of the charm had faded. I mean, what do you do with them when you finally have the perfect breasts you've always dreamed of right there in front of you twenty four hours a day? It's kind of a let down actually, like when a dog finally catches the car. I stroked the smooth skin on my chest and neck, enjoying those softer curves that might soon be on display. How often do you think about that area of your body? My chest could use some sun but at least it wasn't freckly like Taylor. I bent forward and pushed them together slightly to form a crevice that would have made me drool a year before. My boobs were a wet dream come true and all I wanted to do was get them some support and to cover those soft, helpless nipples. The bathroom was beginning to cool. When I covered my tips with chilly hands and squinted, Morgan was still there, vaguely, squinting back like a hairless mole in a silly cap. What is Tom going to think? Goosebumps traveled up my left side. There's a draft in Tom's bathroom. "MORGAN!! Can we come out of our rooms now!" Susan shouted from right outside the door, startling me so badly I jumped and, inevitably, jiggled side to side. It was time to cover myself. "Five more minutes!" I shouted back. "You can watch TV downstairs. And close your dad's door on the way out please!" When I peeked out she was gone but the bedroom door was open, naturally. + I wore comfortable clothes and carried the peach top folded in my purse so Nadine could match the color. It was Rachael's idea. I left the girls just starting a movie in the living room with lunch and drinks at their elbows, giving me about an hour and a half to get there and back. Great parenting skills, right? Nadine barely said a thing the whole time other than a few whispered words in the outer room. She was doing me another special favor and I didn't ask questions. Her son slept on a makeshift cot, arms and legs thrust out from under heavy covers and damp blond hair stuck to his forehead. We were basically alone. She pulled my hair back and held it with a band then studied my face for a minute, touching my cheek to turn my head. Her makeup was simple and precise. Lipstick, eyeliner, brows. She was so beautiful and so close I wanted to lean forward and kiss her. "You're going to be beautiful," she whispered with a confidence I didn't share. Then she came at me with tweezers. I'd plucked my brows before so there couldn't be more than one or two strays left. There was a pluck and another and another and another. Where was she finding them? Nadine's brow's were very thin, feminine arches on honey skin. I tried to stay calm. She worked for almost an hour while I have half-dozed, warm and cozy under the heavy drape, dreaming the impossible. Her son moaned and shifted in his sleep a few times and each time she grimaced and worked faster. The clatter of items on the tray at Nadine's elbow were the only other sounds. When she turned the chair I was a little disappointed that the woman in the mirror looked so much like me. The eyebrows were distressingly thin, penciled into sharp lines, the eyeliner was cleaner than I can manage yet thicker and bolder at the same time, my lashes were dark and heavy and my overall complexion just looked smoother and fresher somehow, but it was still me. She held up the top and my lips and the colors over my eyes matched perfectly, like some kind of magic trick. I held the top while she fussed with my hair, forming it into a frame. I blinked and a worried soccer mom stared back. She was vaguely familiar, like I might have seen her scurrying by at a game or the mall. But she'd always been frazzled, washed out and covered by a heavy coat besides. She wasn't half bad looking all fixed up and she would look even better in the pretty blouse. Nadine's faced hovered beside mine, smiling beautifully, making me feel both pretty and plain. "Lovely," she said. "You look so much more mature now." She brushed and sprayed my hair quickly, then packed a bag with makeup. Her son stirred, moaning softly. "Mommy?" He called in a tiny voice. She ushered me quickly to the entry area while I fumbled with bags and purse. "You can pay next time," she said, practically pushing me out the door. Fortunately the parking lot was very busy. A pair of moms in sweat pants and baggy coats conversed on the sidewalk while three small boys in white karate uniforms swirled around them. The women gave quick appraising looks and continued talking. I hitched my bags in the crock of my arm the way Taylor does and set out across the lot. Another young mother approached, dragging a tiny ninja in sneakers by the arm. She smiled as we passed, like we were sharing a joke at the silly outfit. "I love your hair," she said unexpectedly. I barely stammered out a 'thank you' before they were gone then I practically floated the rest of the way to my car. + Everything seemed to be falling into place. The movie ended just as I stepped into the living room. Cheerful animals sang a song about sharing and the food was somewhat consumed. Susan was identifiable under a blanket only by her hair and Rachael stared up from the sofa blankly, like she just woke up. Her eyes bugged out when she spotted me. She sat up abruptly, threw off the blanket and jumped to her feet, prancing in place so fast her hair danced along. "I can't believe it. You look so grown up!" she gasped, wide-eyed. "Where did you go? Will you take me next time? Oh my God!" Her voice rose higher and higher and the feet and hands couldn't stop moving. "You're gorgeous!" The shriek came suddenly. Susan's sleepy head popped up and she mumbled something. The tape ended and loud static suddenly blared from the TV. The serenity of Nadine's salon faded. I ushered the girls upstairs to get started. Suzy had her orders. Rachael had a plan of her own, printed in detail on notebook paper. I'd marked through quite a few of the lines involving makeup, changed the order of a few steps and added two new lines involving grooming. When you list it all out like that it's shocking and also no longer surprising that women take such a long time to get dressed. Fortunately, the steps involving the bathroom all had check marks from earlier in the day. Suzy trudged to the hall bathroom and shut the door. Rachael practically danced to Tom's room, flopped onto Beth's vanity seat and began lining up bottles and tubes in order, according to plan, giving me a chance to use Tom's bathroom. I went, fixed myself then checked the mirror. My face was already as perfect as possible, thanks to Nadine, so any attempts to improve there would be a mistake. It's an uncanny feeling to look at my face and hair and think 'perfect' when, all my life, I've tried to not even look at the scrawny, imperfect man in the mirror. Same with my hands and feet. They were as perfect as Nadine could make them. My legs looked good too, thin, smooth and a little pale but stockings would fix that, and I knew my breasts looked great. They loomed large under the comfortable, oversized sweatshirt, warm and cozy in their favorite support bra. Rachael scrubbed her face in the bathroom next then started on her facial routine at the vanity while I laid out my outfit, part of it anyway. She chattered merrily, listing out the steps she was taking as she worked. She looked so cute and grown up in a housecoat like mine and her hair pinned back, instructing me in the proper application of concealer in Tom's coaching tone. I relaxed onto Tom's usual spot on the bed to watch her. I hadn't realized the view he enjoys. Rachael's pretty face, neck and chest were perfectly framed in the mirror. Even her cute little feet were clearly visible under the stool. She was wearing my fuzzy white slides! She leaned forward and the housecoat pulled tight, giving her butt a rounded, womanly appearance. A thrilling tingle shoot through me. Oh my God! I leaped off the bed, shaken by the illusion of Rachael as a sexy woman. Is that what Tom sees? I watch him all the time when I'm in his room, so I've seen the looks but he is so furtive about it that it's difficult to judge whether he's just looking or really 'looking,' if you know what I mean. I hadn't considered what a view he has of my butt and chest. "I'm going to put the roast in the oven. I'll check your make-up when I'm done," I said to Rachael, anxious to be out of the room for a minute. The experience was other-worldly, like watching a younger version of myself. I stayed busy in the kitchen until the weirdness dissipated but it was back the moment I returned. She was in my seat, with my hair color, my housecoat and my slippers. It was like looking in a mirror. She turned toward me and the illusion disappeared suddenly. She'd really piled on the makeup; blue eyes, blue lips and bright red cheeks. Heavy diamonds dangled from her ears and glistened at her neck. She'd been in Beth's things, not that far from the furry handcuffs and, OMG, the other stuff! "That's way too much makeup young lady. You're 12. Your skin is already perfect," I said, keeping my voice steady, stepping behind her and taking the brush out of her hand. "And those are your mother's real diamonds. I'm not sure how your dad would feel about you wearing them." "But I want to look grown up," she said with an elaborate pout that made her look even more like a little girl with face paint. She brightened suddenly and began taking off the earrings. "Why don't you wear them first? Then we would know what Dad thinks!" She held them out, clearly attempting to distract me with shiny objects. "I can't wear your mother's jewelry! It wouldn't be right. Those are gifts from your father!" She opened her painted blue mouth to speak but I already knew what she would say. "One day they'll be yours or Susan's, when you're older and your dad says it's OK. Until then stay out of these drawers!" I handed her the container of wipes. "Wipe it all off then start over and follow the list." "But why? I worked so hard," she whined. Her shoulders slumped so dramatically I almost laughed out loud. Her sly eyes watched me, waiting to see if I would fold on some point. The womanly illusion was shattered. Here was a little girl again, out of control with a paint box. And she was occupying my seat as well. I waved the wipes at her again. "Start over and do it right. In your room, please." She took the container and stood up inches from me, with that exact indulgent smile every one of the Hannovers gives me while they wait for me to relent. A heavy cloud of mixed perfumes followed her. I pushed her hair back and unhooked the valuable necklace slowly, watching the disappointment grow on her face as she realized I was serious. "Your dad is going to have a difficult enough time with your dress and everything else, believe me. That's why we have to stick to the plan. I promise we'll get to everything else you want to try, when it's time, OK? Please?" She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. In my experience with Rachael that means, 'I agree wholeheartedly with your logic and will cooperate freely,' which is something I love about her. She tossed her hair angrily and stomped out of the room, shutting the door quietly on the way. + Everything was lined up on the bed in order, kind of like the Rachael with the bottles on the vanity. In the bathroom I applied powder to strategic areas then stepped out naked, in Tom's room, alone. I almost ran to the first item, stepped in and automatically tucked. It's second nature. Then the shaping panties. They pinched in the waist slightly and held everything in place down below quite snugly. My butt and hips felt round and slick. Six straps hung down, tickling my legs. Then the pretty black bra - hook, spin, flip up the cups and insert arms, that was becoming automatic as well. They settled in nicely. I lifted each one and resettle, pulled down on the sides, straightened a strap then smoothed the lace around each cup. It just fit so perfectly and considering how much flesh was exposed, it gave good support. Pale skin flowing into black lace then into shiny black satin. The satin brushed the inside of my arms when I reached for the packet of stockings. They were so sheer and light they slid across my smooth skin like smoke. All the skincare was worth it. My hands were actually shaking when I put the first opal toe in and began unrolling the stocking, working the ethereal garment up my long leg. I swore I would never go back to pantyhose then instantly changed my opinion when I tried to attach the tabs. It's impossible to hold the stocking up and attach the damned things! When I finally got them all attached and stood up there were saggy places everywhere and half of the tabs had to be reattached. The feeling of exposed thighs and the tug of the grater straps was not like pantyhose at all. There was something both silly and secretly exciting about all the straps and lace when, in a skirt, nobody would know thee difference. The skirt was simple, black and thick enough to covered the complex array of straps without lumps. A half slip kept it slick. It came to my knees and gave my hips and butt a nice round look. Then I pulled the sleeveless silk shell over my head, tugged the tight waist over my boobs, settled the light material around my shoulders so that it draped correctly then redid the top buttons in back. I was pretty much dressed and we still had an hour to go! I buckled a wide black belt around the middle, over the the shell, to give myself a waist, another of Rachael's ideas, and immediately could see that I would be adjusting the damned thing all night. There were so many things I should have practiced more. "Knock - knock." There were two soft taps at the door. For a frightening moment I pictured Tom out there, about to walk in on me fully dressed. How would that work? "Can I come in?" Rachael asked quietly. I turned in front of the mirror and smoothed everything, again. The details looked good. The locket Rachael gave me twinkled on a broad peach field. I have to remember to smile. "Yes, you MAY come in," I replied, still looking at myself. The door opened. "WOW!" Rachael shouted. "You look great! I love the belt." I turned and forgot all about my own looks. She was a vision in rich, flowing blue that hugged her arms and chest then spread to cover her hips and legs to below the knees. Her recent acne was expertly covered so that her complexion appeared to be its normal, smooth self. The eyeliner was dark blue and I knew she had a tube of blue lipstick in her purse, for later, but otherwise here was a fresh young lady with almost no makeup. Her hair was parted on one side and swooped across her forehead to duck behind an ear, almost covering one eye. It gave her a mysterious look. Tiny silver drop earrings peeked out. Kitten heels in the same blue made her stumble on the carpet, so I knew she was real. "Perfect. You look perfect," I said. There were no other words. She gave a shrug that said, "this old thing?" but she couldn't contain a satisfied smirk. "Thank you," she said politely, just like we'd practiced. "Did everything work out the way Ms Bohnslager showed you?" I had to ask. Not a single out-of-place line or bump showed in that area and there was also no longer any denying Rachael's shape. Boys everywhere have been put on notice and Tom will need a lot of distraction tonight. Rachael just rolled her eyes at the stupid question. "I know how to put on a bra, thank you," she said, crowding my space so she could admire herself in the mirror. Side-by-side, her's looked so much smaller than my own. Maybe Tom won't even notice? I stepped into my shoes, peach mesh pumps with a 3" heel. They have little flowers embedded in the mesh that cause trouble if the shoes touch but they match perfectly with the feminine shell. And they made me much taller than Rachael again. We admired ourselves in the mirror side-by-side. Rachael could barely stand still. She slid her warm, naked arm into mine and pulled us close so that our hips and shoulders touched. My arms were almost as thin as hers. "You need better earrings," she said, releasing me and walking to her mother's dresser. "We're not getting into you mother's good jewelry today," I stated flatly. She ignored me, flipped open the jewelry box on top of the dresser and stirred the contents with a finger. She quickly slipped a pair of silver bracelets on her left wrist, like I wouldn't notice. "Stop it!" I said in my most commanding voice, crossing the distance in tiny steps because of the shoes. "Get out of there!" I reached for her hand to stop the rummaging, she turned suddenly and we were face to face, inches apart. My chest looked so huge compared to hers, I just wanted to hug her and make her stop growing. She held up her hands near my face with an evil grin. A golden drop dangled from each hand, pinched between her fingers with their pretty blue nails. "You can't wear those plain studs tonight," she said, lifting her chin imperiously. "So I'm loaning you these." She jiggled them in front of my eyes. The gold flashed, making it difficult to think. What she said made sense. She stepped behind me and began fussing with my hair, exposing an ear. Besides," she added sagely. "It's not like Dad would ever notice. Right?" We laughed, because it's true. But the funny thing is, all night, every time those little gold balls wiggled and reminded me of their presence, which was often, I couldn't help checking to see if Tom was looking and sometimes he was. Weird, right? We checked each others backside one more time, selected a perfume and spritzed it all around then just sort of stood there, waiting for the other to do something. How do you know when you're done? "Let's check on your sister," I command from high on my shoes, pointing a perfect nail at the door. We found her running around her room in white tights pulled up to her ribs with the dress stuck on her head. The skirt barely covered her chest and a tuft of blonde hair poked out of the neck of the dress. When she mumbled you could see her lips move under the black satin. "Get me out of here!" A muffled voice shouted. "You have to unzip it first, Sweetie," I said, waving Rachael forward, giving her a warning look: No laughing allowed. + We lined up in the kitchen, tall to short, so that there was a clear path between Susan and the side door. She could barely stand still. Rachael had to slap her hands to keep them from nervously pulling up the front of her dress. We heard car doors open and close and deep voices in the garage, the doorknob turned with that distinctive creaky sound and there was his face peeking though the crack. The girls lost all decorum. It was embarrassing. The man had only been gone a week! "Daddy! Daddy!" They both shouted, surging forward to meet him in the middle of the room, both talking so fast it all blurred together. A tall black man followed Tom through the door, Reggie, Tom's assistant coach and arguably his best friend. He was about Tom's height and build with close cropped hair and the same bulging biceps that scream, "I work out at the gym all the time." I couldn't help picturing Tom's arms in a similar mocha color, maybe a little lighter. He needed some color. "At last we meet," Reggie said over the squeals. He had a bright white smile and a huge outstretched paw, both bigger than Tom's. He looked me straight in the eye. How do you approach such a hand? Grasp a finger firmly and jack up and down? Would it even move? I put my hand out tentatively and the macaroni bracelet Suzy made in school rattled down my arm and flopped loosely over my wrist. Reggie smile grew even bigger. He gripped my fingers firmly and gave one quick shake, just long enough to jingle the macaronis and for me to feel the strength in his rough, dry hands. He needed lotion. "Tom didn't tell me how beautiful you are," he said, way too loudly, still looking straight at my face. It was very disconcerting. I glanced at Tom to see if he heard the words. He was already leaving the kitchen with his suitcase dangling from one arm and Susan climbing up the other arm like a monkey. He'd barely acknowledged my presence before the girls were on him. Rachael, in the lead, trying to walk backward in the kitten heels, rattled on excitedly about the school party. They disappeared, leaving me alone with a large stranger with powerful compliments. We've practiced this. Stand up straight, smile, look your guest in the eye and keep it simple. All compliments require the same reply. I looked into his deep brown eyes and fought the urge to adjust my top. "Thank you, Reggie. It's very nice to meet you at last. Please, come in and make yourself at home," I said, indicating that he should follow the ungracious Hannover family. "May I get you something to drink? A beer maybe?" He smiled the bright celebrity smile again and actually winked. "You are a girl after my own heart," he said, stopping at the door and placing one paw on his heart. "That would taste great right now. Thank you so much." Then my kitchen was empty again. That wasn't so bad. I stood up taller and adjusted my top finally. There weren't any overt ogles or rude remarks, right? He might have even glanced at my legs once or twice which isn't so bad. Those big football guys always make me nervous but Reggie seemed nice. When you think about, guys like that are easy. Beer, food and football and they're happy. When I came out with his beer and a glass, because I run a classy establishment, he was alone, deep in the sofa, already fiddling with the remote control like he'd been here many times before. He ran his hand over the sofa cushion lovingly and sighed. "I hope you don't mind me making myself comfortable. This used to be my home away from home," he said. He found the channel he wanted and reached for the tray. He took the glass reluctantly, sat it on the coffee table like he might find a use for it later, then took the beer and relaxed into the cushions. He looked very natural in my seat. "Thank you, Morgan," he said. He surveyed the room then checked me up and down quickly. "Tom's a lucky man." He lifted the beer in salute and might have winked again. Was that a compliment? Would it be presumptuous to say thank you? This stuff is complicated. Tom returned, orbited by the girls in their pretty dresses, arguing noisily about something. He stood in the doorway and looked at me like we'd just met. The girls tugged at him, one on each arm, so that he wobbled back and forth like a bobble-head with a stupid happy smile. "Do you want a beer before dinner?" I asked. He looked me up and down for a moment with the same expression, as if he hadn't heard, then he lifted his chin, nodded and winked. His head wobbled loosely in a circle, which caused the girls to giggle. He was still watching me when I turned to leave. What's with all the winking? + The living room sounded so alive with two men in there. Deep bass voices complimented the girl's high, excite squeals. They were both showing off terribly, far more starved for attention than I'd realized. At one point Susan was actually climbing up the sofa back, onto poor Reggie's shoulder's while he attempted to listen seriously to Rachael's detailed description of her outfit. Tom was laughing, pointing and egging the girls on and I didn't want to be a wet blanket. Susan came into the kitchen looking for snacks and I sent her out with a chip and dip tray. Rachael fetched another round of beers just as the roast came out of the oven. There was cheering and a mad scramble when I announced dinner. Reggie sat at the foot of the table where I usually go, since I would barely got a chance to relax anyway. It had been a long time since I'd been to a party. It was fun. + The girls were asleep at last. Long good-nights were said, dresses hung and nightgowns on, faces washed and teeth brushed. There were no stories, everyone was too tired. Downstairs the men talked softly over the sounds of baseball. They laughed, deep and hearty, probably a sports joke. Just like in high school, I hesitated to enter a room where everyone would be twice my size and obsessed with only one subject. Out of sight I went through a mental checklist; clothes, hair, makeup, breath, all good if no longer perfect. It's difficult to believe that only a few months ago I stood right here and worried that a little lipstick and mascara might upset Tom. "... We finally found the poor team manager hanging in the locker room in a cocoon of athletic tape!" Reggie said, barely containing his mirth. They both sputtered and burst out laughing. I couldn't help thinking of that poor kid, bound up helplessly by a bunch of big jerks. Back then I could never shake the fear that that might to happen to me any minute. That's part of what made me so nervous around these guys. I was probably a fool to think Tom and I could be best friends in that way. "High school. Those were the good old days, right?" Tom said when the laughing subsided. Bottles clinked. But this is my house. Sort of. In a way. Rachael will have to walk into a room full of boys one day. I might never be an athlete but I was pretty sure they wouldn't strip me naked and wrap me in tape. I put on a smile, adjusted my belt, waited for a quiet moment and stepped into view. Reggie leaped to his feet the instant I appeared, throwing me off balance. Tom leaned forward in his seat, on the edge of standing himself. Were they going somewhere? "There you are at last. I was afraid I'd missed my chance to say thank you for a very lovely evening." Reggie said with that same white smile. "All these months I thought Tom was suffering here at home and now I find out he's been living the good life." His friendliness caught me off guard for a second. Was he is complimenting me or goading Tom? Tom rolled his eyes, grinned and slowly rose to his feet. Neither man could keep his eyes on my face. It was impossible to not adjust my wrap a little. "Thank you, Reggie," I said, smirking at Tom. "He doesn't always appreciate what he has." "So. I probably should be going," Reggie said. He clapped his big, dry hands together. "This was great. Dinner was wonderful and I'd forgotten how much I love the girls. Maybe we can get together again some time soon? I'd love to spend more time with the girls." To be honest, that sounded a little like he wanted my job, as Tom's best friend and now as the girl's friend too. I'll admit, I was jealous. But then, I couldn't really picture that big mountain explaining anything about clothes to a young lady, any better than their Dad could. He'd know how to unfasten a girls clothes, just like Tom. That I could picture. But why was I even imagining him undoing clothes at all? I shook my head and looked at Tom. He was watching me intently. I could almost feel his heavy hand on my shoulder and his fingers on the back of my neck, undoing the first button. Why were they looking at me like that? "I think what Morgan is trying to say is, 'you're welcome'," Tom said slowly, without a trace of smirkiness. Believe me, I listened for it. "I bet it's been a long day for you, getting the girls ready and making dinner and everything?" I nodded dumbly. Reggie nodded as if he understood, which he couldn't any better than Tom, but it was nice for everyone to agree with me. We all nodded together. "Yes! You're welcome. Of course. It has been a long day!" I blurted out stupidly when I realized it was my turn to speak. I pushed a few stray hairs out of my face to punctuate the point: it's been all hard work and sweat for me today. "It has been a wonderful evening Reggie, really. Thank you for coming." I meant it. My hands waved, wondering want to do next, itching to fold over my chest but afraid of attracting attention. Their eyes followed my every move. Could I ever be comfortable around guys like Reggie? Before today they never waited for me to speak, now there's two of them with those 100 watt smiles, waiting for me to do a trick or something. Tom broke the spell again. "OK, you two. Break it up," he said with a laugh. "I'd better get Reggie out of here before he decides to move in permanently. And besides, isn't your wife expecting you at home, Reggie?" The casual words transformed Reggie's dark face. Something like anger flared, his full pink lips curled, his nostrils flared even wider and he ducked his head to charge at Tom. Tom laughed and held up his hands in a limp defense. Reggie waved Tom's arm down and slugged him hard in the shoulder, hard enough to make a loud thud, a blow that would have probably broken my arm. Tom laughed like it tickled. "Stop saying that," Reggie said, in maybe a little bit of a whine. He shook his fist at Tom and waved his other hand at me. "Now she's going to think I'm married." He looked right at me. "I'm not married." He said, so seriously it was actually funny. Tom sniggered and Reggie jumped on him. They grappled like young boys for a moment, threatening to knock over furniture, then they stopped and laughed again, arms draped around each-others shoulders, so close they could have easily kissed. That rough intimacy would appear so gay if I tried it but they made it look like two brothers goofing around. They were a perfectly matched pair with the same happy smiles and searching eyes. Except for their color the men could have been brothers. Tom guided Reggie through the kitchen door, there was more shoving and good-natured arguing, then it was quiet. I was still pondering what Tom meant by that 'break it up' comment. Break up what? What did he think was going on? His clomping shoes in the kitchen gave me warning and I busied myself, picking up the clutter in the living room. + Did I follow him up the stairs or did he lead me? It's difficult to say. We both walked around the house a few laps, checking the locks, turning off lights and picking up loose glasses and plates. I took that as a sign he was nervous too. We kind of met up in the hallway at the base of the stairs by accident. "The girls looked great tonight," he said. "Thank you," I replied. It's easy once you get used to the compliments. Just say 'thank you' and mean it. "And, well, you look great too." He waved a hand up and down, vaguely. Was he somehow indicating all the areas where I looked great with that one, all-encompassing gesture? He didn't appear to have any details to add. "Thank you," I said finally. He glanced up the stairs. Was that some kind of invitation? I wasn't going first, especially not in a skirt. He mounted the first few steps and paused. I moved closer to indicate that I would follow and up he went without looking back, even when he turned to enter his room. At the top of the stairs I did the checklist again: clothes, hair, makeup, breath. I pulled my bra down on the sides, lifted the front and resettled then pulled up my panties like a big girl. All this required adjustments to the skirt, belt and blouse. Everything has to be perfect. + The wrap was gone the instant I took my hand off the doorknob, shucked down my back while his other hand held my shoulder in the usual firm grip. He tossed it at the bed and missed. I tried to relax and keep my limbs loose. He stood back a little, like he was studying me, then he grabbed the belt buckle at my waist, wrenched it open with one hand much more easily than expected and let it drop. My whole body shook with the effort. 'Relax. Stay calm,' I told myself. He needed two hands to unbutton the blouse. Rather than pull it over my head he undid the buttons all the way down, pulling the back open as he went. I could feel the backs of his hairy fingers on my naked skin and his breath on my neck. When he reached the bottom he deftly unhooked and unzipped the skirt so that it dropped suddenly. I let the blouse fall forward and pushed down the half-slip, wiggling my hips to get it to fall, anxious to reveal everything in one go. "Holy shit," he whispered. His hand gripped my shoulder, holding me in place while he moved from behind me. I waited, afraid to look up. Was that cool air or his eyes on my hips and boobs? "Magnificent," he said slowly, almost to himself, like he was admiring a far off waterfall. It didn't seem possible he was speaking to me. His hand rose slowly and I braced myself, certain he would grab my boob. It sailed past and buried itself in his hair. His eyes bugged out and he bit his lip hard. Instead of the happy expression I'd hoped for he looked confused and maybe even angry at something! What did I do wrong? This was the moment. I would never look better than this, I was certain of that. Isn't this what he wanted? I stood straighter, fighting his iron grip, closed my eyes and lifted my face so he could have the best view possible. I lowered my arms and leaned, offering myself the way Taylor does. This is everything I've got, take it or leave it. One hand gripped my hair suddenly, pulling down, the other circled my waist and lifted, pressing my front to his. Something hard was there. My eyes flew open just in time to see his open mouth descending then it it was on me, covering my mouth. Even his lips are strong! Panic rose and I fought it down. 'It's only Tom. It's only Tom.' I repeated to myself. His tongue, wet and thick, forced its way inside my mouth and began searching for something. Bristles scrubbed my chin and cheek. His tongue tasted like beer and the roast. His arms held me in place, weightless. You can call it a kiss if you like but it was more like an oral exam than anything else. Bent over backward with him pulling my hair, there was little I could do but open up and allow him in. He explored everywhere quickly and efficiently, brushing aside all resistance, even pushing his tongue almost down my throat at one point. It took everything I had to stay calm. He finally withdrew and I opened my eyes. He looked angrier than ever! His lips and cheeks were bright pink and his eyes were wild, as if he regretted what he'd just done. Clearly I was causing him grief. "Oh no, Tom!" I said, brokenhearted by his obvious distress. I put my hands on his chest and gripped his shirt. That's all I could do. "I just wanted to help you!" He searched my face like he wanted to believe me, then he pulled my hair again and leaned down for another kiss. It wasn't as forcefully as before and I was ready for it this time, so there was no panic. He explored like before, maybe testing for resistance? I don't know. His mouth retreated. He returned for more and I was ready and opened as he approached. When he seemed to be satisfied that he owned the place, his face slowly withdrew. He still looked angry and confused but less so. "I just can't believe how incredible you look. That's all," he said quietly, easing his grip and pushing me away slightly. Really? He can't believe it? Was I so ugly before? He held me out for another long inspection and I waited for whatever would come next, confused but still ready to do anything he asked. "I'm really proud of you Morgan," he finally said, firmly, like he really meant it. The heavy hand released, patted me on the shoulder quickly then Tom stepped around and ducked into the bathroom. The door clicked shut. WTF? My whole mouth still throbbed from his assault and he's proud of me? Seriously? That asshole is PROUD of me? I came to my senses and looked around the empty room. What was I supposed to do now? It felt incredibly foolish to be standing there alone in the silly underwear with my clothes in a puddle on the floor. I stepped out of the ring of clothing, one of the little flowers on my shoe caught the slip and I had to do an ungraceful hop and twist to avoid falling. Thank goodness Tom didn't see. I tip-toed to the closet on unsteady feet and slipped into a flannel lined gown. He took a long time in the bathroom. My makeup was almost perfect again and my heart had settled to normal levels. He came out in his bathrobe, the one that never leaves the hook on the back of the door, with his clothes in a neat bundle in his arms. He dropped the bundle by the door, dug a pair of thick pajama pants out of his dresser and pulled them on under the robe with his back to me. Only then did he take off the robe and rehang it. "Umm, Tommy? Do you want to talk about anything?" I asked tentatively, watching him retreat in the mirror. He stopped by his bed. His back flexed, rippled then slumped, Atlas carrying the whole world on his shoulders. It was a bit overly dramatic for my taste but it's his room, so whatever. He settled into his place before replying. "How about I tell you about my trip? Reggie and I had a great time." The TV came on and he flipped channels, ignoring me for the moment. He looked at me finally and smiled reassuringly, which made it easier to believe everything was OK between us. It just seemed best to let questions go for now. "Sure," I said with a shrug and a toss my hair to show that it was no big deal. I turned to the mirror to begin removing my makeup, the makeup I just put on in case he had other ideas. But, as interesting as his stories of meetings and sports bars were, it was difficult to block out my own thoughts. There were too many questions. Why the weird, probing kisses then the abrupt stop? What was I supposed to do? Not that I wanted him to do anything more, but you have to be curious, right? I mean, let's be honest, he obviously wanted to grab my tits, of course he did, and I was fully prepared to see what that was like. It would have been very interesting to watch his face. But then, where would that end? And why was he suddenly wearing pants? I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. He was looking right at me. "So finally, we just signed Rehnquist to keep Jones happy," he said with a chuckle. I laughed along without understanding. "He'll have bust his ass just to stay on the training team though." That sounded serious and I nodded accordingly. Tom looked away. When you think about it, as weird as it had been, that encounter it couldn't have gone much better. He got to see what he wanted to see so badly, up close, and he'd managed to control himself without being a huge asshole. Looking back over the very, very long day, I had to pat myself on the back a little. The girls looked great and we learned a lot. In one day I'd been called 'lovely', 'gorgeous', 'beautiful', 'incredible' and even 'magnificent', although that last was mostly likely meant only for my boobs. Whatever. I felt pretty enough to forget a lot of problems for a while. Tom stretchered out, arching his back, pointing his toes and groaning loudly. He caught me watching in the mirror and winked. "God, it's good to be home," he said with a satisfied sigh. I had to agree. Home was a confusing place but I felt safe and warm there. My body tingled delightfully with a deep sense of satisfaction of my own. I kicked off the shoes and got comfortable, as comfortable as a stool allows anyway.