On Becoming Miss Louisa Harper Of New York And Newport 3 free porn video

From 'The Autobiography of Miss Louisa Harper' ~ "Langdon Beech-Thorndyke III was 'a catch.' Mother and Father thought that he would be a perfect match for me. He was twenty three and I was fifteen. My parents hoped that we would become betrothed that summer and then a grandiose wedding would follow in three years after I turned eighteen. This was my sister's summer, though. Miranda would be married in August to a Vanderbilt cousin who she barely knew. The opulent affair was scheduled for August seventeenth at Golden Bluffs. The night prior, the Vanderbilts would host a rehearsal dinner down the street at The Breakers. There would be parties and balls all summer long, but these two events were the events of that summer. There was a shadow cast on those events, though. My sister was twenty four years old, nearly a spinster by the standards of the New York/Newport elite. She had been engaged twice before, and both engagements had ended in controversial tragedy. Her first fianc? was involved in an embezzling scheme designed to steal large amounts of money from Father's firm. When his duplicity was discovered, rather than bringing loose lipped law enforcement into a situation, which would certainly lead to terrible publicity for everyone involved, he was, instead, ruined financially and disowned by his family. I think that Miranda truly loved him, but she could never have suffered the shame of being his wife, so their engagement was quietly called off and, after a season of respectful solitude, she was back on the list of eligible young women. Her second fianc? was a very sweet man, but I don't think that she ever had real feelings for him. He was just a means to a financially secure life for her. After they announced their engagement, they spent nearly no time together at all. He would drop by with colleagues and spend one or two days at Golden Bluffs, riding, shooting, sailing, but always with his friends. Miranda would be left alone at Golden Bluffs while he and his friends got up to no good. A week before their wedding, we received word that his body had been found floating in the East River near Roebling's bridge that connected Manhattan to Brooklyn. I heard whispers of improprieties, but the details were never discussed in my presence. One would have expected that Miranda would have been devastated, but I believe that she was actually relieved to be free of that commitment. Miranda's third fianc? was a very wealthy, very cold man with little or no interest in Miranda as anything other than an ornament to be worn on his arm. He was fat, bald and fifty two years old, but he did offer her the security that she desired. He owned a large home in Yonkers and a handsome estate in Newport. The estate was nowhere near as grand as Golden Bluffs or The Breakers, but it was nice enough for her to play hostess without embarrassment. When I saw her bridal dress, I thought it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen and I was sure that she would shine like the sun when she wore it, and I told her as much. Miranda scowled and shook her head. "I wish it was a mourning dress," she said. "I have no feelings for this man at all, Louisa. He is a vile, smelly pig, but I take solace in the fact that he will most likely be dead in less than five years." I must admit that I was not shocked by the callousness of Miranda's remarks, but they did cause me to reevaluate my expected betrothal to Langdon Beech-Thorndyke III. I knew that women had very little say in their futures, but the day that I heard my sister say those words was the day that I determined that my choices would be my own. No one else's. Regardless of what my parents wanted me to do, I would chart the course of my own life." XXX The next day went pretty well for Quinn at Golden Bluffs. He tried to put his own hair up into the Gibson Girl hair style, but was not very successful. Barbara assisted and patiently guided him through his second, and only slightly more successful, attempt. The third time he tried, he succeed to the point that Barbara proclaimed it, "Good enough for today." He had more success with his makeup, though. The printed instructions that Barbara provided were concise and easy to understand. He received a 'good job' after only his second attempt. Monica had called and said that she'd be in at one o'clock and that she'd be very happy to keep drilling Quinn on how to present himself to guests of the museum. "I think it would be a good idea for you to wear a formal gown, this afternoon," Barbara said. "There are some differences. A formal gown has even more elaborate undergarments and requires even more practice. After lunch, I'll get you into one of the ones you'll be wearing to the weddings coming up in ten days. Hopefully, with the museum opening this Saturday, you'll be used to dealing with guests by then." Quinn had borrowed a dress from his mother's closet that morning. It was not exactly the kind of dress he found attractive on a woman, but it fit. It was a grey-blue shirt dress with a fairly wide matching belt. It buttoned up the front and fell fairly drably to his knees. The manly collar and cuffs did nothing to express the beauty of its wearer, at least in Quinn's opinion. "Hey, umm... Barbara, umm... I was wondering if during our lunch break today... if you wouldn't mind, I mean... if it's not too inconvenient..." Quinn was still feeling odd about asking Barbara to take him to a discount store to buy a dress for that night. "Quinny, I'm going to stop you right there." Barbara smiled and patted his shoulders. "Annie told me that you want to buy a new dress to wear to class tonight. Sure, I'll drive you to the outlets, but only under three conditions." "What are those?" Quinn was concerned that she was going to say something along the lines of she'd take him once he mastered the hairdo on his own. In that case, he'd never get there. "Number one, you let me help you pick out a dress. Number two, you let me pay for it. And number three, on the way there, you have to agree to tell me about this boy that's taking you out after class." Quinn had no issues with the first two stipulations, but the third proviso bothered him. "He's not taking me out, it's just coffee." "Yes, he is, so I want to know about him." "It's not a date, Barbara. He's gay. He thinks I'm a girl. He has no interest in me." "Yes, he does. Coffee and a ride all the way up to the northern tip of the island is a date, Quinny? That's a boy who is hot and bothered. End of story. So... do we go get in my car and you tell me everything you know about him, or do we stay here and continue to have this pointless discussion?" Quinn weighed those options. Why was everyone making such a big deal out of having coffee with a guy. Didn't people have coffee together every day? But still... he wanted to look nice for him... no, not for him, for class... and this dress he'd taken from his mother's closet did not fit that bill at all. So... what were his options? "Alright. I'll tell you about him, but don't make a great big deal out it, ok? It's just coffee." "I believe that 'just coffee' is a plot point in just about every Meg Ryan, Michelle Pfeiffer and Sandra Bullock movie I've ever seen. So... I promise that I won't make a big deal out of it, but trust me, little lady... it is a big deal." Barbara started to take off her work apron, while Quinn protested some more. "No it isn't. He's just a nice guy and we got along well, and he... Barbara began to sing at the top of her lungs drowning out Quinn's objections, "Your are fifteen, going on sixteen, baby it's time to think. Better beware, be canny and careful, baby you're on the brink." "Those aren't even the right lyrics," Quinn complained. "It's 'you are sixteen going on seventeen,' and besides, I'm twenty one." Suddenly, Barbara turned and looked at Quinn with a seriousness that surprised him. "No, you're not, Quinn. Yes, you've been alive for twenty one years, but in a lot of ways, you stopped maturing when you were fourteen. Since then, you've had almost no social interactions at all. People can be mean and terrible, Quinny. You need to be very, very careful about who you trust your heart to. Trust me. I know." Quinn was shocked at the serious turn the conversation had taken. "Ok." He didn't quite know what else to say. "I'll be careful. Ok?" Barbara smiled, but Quinn could see that her eyes were a little teary. "That's my girl. Now, let's go find you a pretty dress." Then, as they crossed the parking lot to her car, Barbara broke out in song again, "I feel pretty. Oh, so pretty. I feel pretty and witty and bright. And I pity any girl who isn't Quinn tonight..." She went on and Quinn would have preferred if she didn't tease him quite so relentlessly, but he just smiled at her and waited for the sound of the door locks releasing before climbing into the passenger seat of her Prius. When they arrived at the outlets, Barbara led Quinn away from the store where he'd planned to shop. "But I looked at their stuff online and it seemed cheapest," he complained. "There's a difference between cheap and inexpensive, Quinny. That store has 'cheap' clothing. It won't hang nicely and will only last a few washings before it's faded, shrunk or falling apart. Now, the store I'll take you to is... somewhat... inexpensive. It's a real outlet. The clothes are just as good as the clothes they sell in their regular stores. It's high quality, it'll fit well and it will last for years. We may spend a little more, but, penny for penny, it'll be a better investment. Besides - It's my money. So just relax and learn how to shop correctly." They entered Barbara's chosen store and Quinn watched as she strolled slowly through the racks, hemming and hawing over items, seemingly rejecting items for no reason. When Quinn asked why, she was happy to explain. She pulled a hanger out and hung it from the rack in such a way that the front of the dress faced them. Then she grabbed another and did the same. "Ok, so, these dresses look pretty much the same, right?" Quinn looked confused. "Not really. I mean, one is orange and one is purple." That made Barbara smile. "Yes, That's true, but they are both similar in style. Both sleeveless, both scooped necked, both wide skirted, right? Well, look more closely. The seams on the orange dress are all subtle and smoothly sewn, while the seams on the purple one are puckered here and there. Here, look inside and it's more obvious. The purple dress has chunky seams with excess thread all over them while the orange dress has small, carefully crafted seams that are clean and free of excess thread. Do you see? That's important when picking your clothes. A well made dress will work hard for you and look pretty for years. Do you understand?" Quinn nodded. "Yeah. I guess, so." He looked from one dress to another, then asked, "So... we're buying the orange one?" "Oh, my God, no, Quinn!" Barbara laughed, but sounded shocked at the very idea. "You have pale skin and red hair, honey. That would look terrible on you! To tell you the truth, it'd look terrible on me or Annie, too. It's just too bright. A woman with dark skin, though - that dress would make her look beautiful. Quality, color and style are all important for a girl's clothes, Quinny. Oh! Oh! Wait! Oh, Quinn, look at this. It's perfect! Come on. Let's have you try this on." XXX "Oh, Monica, I'm so sorry we're late!" Barbara apologized as she hustled Quinn into her workshop. Both were carrying several bags. "Quinn has a date tonight and I guess I got a little carried away helping her pick out a dress." "A date?" Monica smiled as she took a hanger carrying a shinny, silver gown from a rack. The older woman was wearing a simple silk combination, a beautifully constructed corset and a corset cover hung unbuttoned from her shoulders. "How exciting! New guy?" "Quinn? Monica asked you a question," Barbara said to the embarrassed boy. He sighed. "Yes. I just met him last night, but I keep telling everyone - it's not a date. It's just coffee." "Ooh!" Monica gushed. "Coffee is a nice. The opportunity to sit and chat and get to know each other better. Maybe much better..." her voice rose insinuatingly at the end of that sentence. "I keep telling people, this guy, Ricky, is gay. He just wants to be friends." Quinn was a bit embarrassed, but was enjoying the attention. "Of course he does,"Monica teased, sounding unconvinced. "Try to get a picture of him, sweetie. I'd love to see what your friend looks like." "Oh," Quinn grabbed his phone. "I have some photos. He took a bunch of selfies on my phone last night. Here. That's Ricky." Monica looked at the photo, then at Barbara. "Have you seen this boy?" "No," Barbara answered as she came to see the photo. "Why? Is he gruesome or something." She looked at the picture, then snatched the phone away from Quinn to get a better look. "Geez Louise, Quinny, that boy is gorgeous! THAT'S the boy who's interested in you?" "Come on," Quinn still enjoyed the teasing, but wanted to make it clear that nothing romantic was going to come of this casual get together. "Ricky is a really nice guy, but he has absolutely no interest in dating me." Monica laughed. "Ok. If you say so." Her smile, though, made it clear that she remained unconvinced. She turned her attention to Barbara and said, "I was just looking for this gown. It wasn't in my cubby." "No, I fixed the hem in the back where your heel caught it on New Year's Eve. It's all set now, though. Why don't you give me a half an hour or so to get Quinn ready, then she'll meet you upstairs and we'll get her used to the gown." Monica nodded. She looked at Quinn and smiled. "See you then, sweetheart." "Ok," Quinn said and smiled. When he looked at Barbara, she was holding his phone and Ricky's photo was still displayed and smirking. "It's not a date." "It's a date, Quinny." "No, it isn't." "He's blowing you a kiss." "It's not a date." "He's adorable, he's blowing you a kiss, and he asked you out!" "Just for coffee!" "It's a date!" "No, it's NOT a date!" "What do I have to do to convince you, Quinny? This is wonderful! It's your first date and not only is he handsome, he's flirting with you by taking selfies! You should be thrilled!" Quinn turned to the rack of clothing and said, "What gown am I wearing today?" "Quinn, come on at least acknowledge..." His next remarks even surprised Quinn. Not only because he half barked them at his friend, but because of what he actually said. "Barbara! It's not a date! He's not into me. He's gay and thinks I'm a girl! No interest. I'm a guy in a dress, but I'm still a guy and I'm not gay, so I can't be interested in him." "But..." Barbara wanted to calm him down, but also help him understand his own feelings. "No! Barbara! I AM NOT GAY! I can't be! I've never had feelings like that! I'm not... that! I am not gay, but I am..." "What, Quinny? You are... what?" He hung his head for a moment, then said, "... I'm lonely, Barbara. I'm so... so... so lonely." When he looked at Barbara, his eyes were watery. "I have spent seven years... alone. You and Annie and your mom, you've been great, but... Ricky is handsome and funny and everyone likes him... and he's my age, Barbara. He makes me laugh and he likes me. He's not 'into me,' he just... likes me. Annie has to like me, I'm her brother. You and Mrs Jenkins... You guys are great, but... to you, I'm just... well, no matter what, you'll just always feel sorry for me - for the accident and losing my family... for the rehab - all of it. I'll always just be a victim." "Oh, Quinn, no..." she started, but Quinn continued. "Yes, Barbara. There's just no way around it. I'm very thankful for your friendship, but... do you get what I'm saying? Ricky is the first person in seven years who wants to be my friend, and hasn't had to give me a sponge bath... or change my diapers... or seen me struggle to stand and use a walker, or crutches. When he looks at me... yeah, I know he's not seeing the REAL me because of the dress and all, but... he's not seeing THAT me. To him, I'm not 'Poor Quinn.' I'm just... Quinn. Does any of that make sense?" "Oh... Quinn..." Barbara made to hug him, but he stopped her. "Please... don't feel sorry for the me." "I'm not, Quinn. I want to hug you because I just realized how amazing you really are. Please, give me a hug." He did. When she released him, she sniffled just a bit, then immediately went back into professional mode. "Ok. So, today you are wearing this." She pulled a gown from the rack. "It's made from this rich green, silk taffeta, with lace inserts in the bodice and on the back of the skirt. There are two tricky things to moving in it though. Number one, the train is really long and wide. You'll have to scoop it in your arms when walking on stairs and be careful when you're near other people because it's a danger to them, too. Number two is this," she turned the skirt inside out to display a strange couple of straps at the bottom, near the front. The straps were tied together and seemed like a ludicrously dangerous hazard to the wearer. "These straps are tied to control the shape of the skirt. It allows the upper dress to be full and voluptuous but keep the front from flaring as widely as that much material normally would. It does require that you take very small steps, though, so that your foot doesn't get fouled up in the straps. Ok?" Quinn nodded. "Is that something that you added, or is it historically accurate?" "It's historically accurate." "Really?" He was shocked. "Why would women wear something like that?" "Because it's pretty," Barbara smiled. "And, in your case, with your pale complexion and that beautiful red hair, this deep green is going to look amazing." The combination he put on was less decorative than the ones he'd worn before, but the silk from which it was made was as soft and smooth as Quinn could imagine anything being. The silk stockings were white and were secured to his thighs with green silk bows that matched the gown. The corset was brilliant green and had two small clips, similar to large Bobby pins, on the front. The corset cover was thin, soft, white cotton that had patterns of small, delicate eyelets across the front. The bustle pad was less thick than the one he'd worn before and was made of the same green silk that covered the corset. The inner petticoat was thick and plain in front, but the back was a waterfall of frills. The outer petticoat was just three layers of the thinnest, lightest silk you could imagine, and it was secured in the front to the clips on the corset to ensure that it didn't rise up and interfere with the line of the dress' bodice. The skirt was a rich Emerald green that hung nicely in front of him, expanded a bit to the sides and then sloped elegantly from the back of his waist, over the bustle pad, over the layers and layers of fringe on the petticoats and spilled magnificently across the floor behind him. There was no other ornamentation needed on the skirt because the bodice was breathtaking. It fit as if it had been made specifically for Quinn's corseted form and small breasts. It's green material hugged his narrow sides and spread across his wider hips, and the lower hem followed the shape of his hips, with a slight dip in the hemline in the front and rear. It rode up to just barely cover his very modest breasts, didn't quite enter his armpits, but provided two loose fitting loops of material that sat limply, yet prettily, on his upper arms. Just a beautiful dress like that would have been breathtaking, but added to it was iridescent silver thread that formed tiny, intricate, delicate, feminine bows embroidered all about the front of the top. Quinn stared at himself in the mirror, his hair piled, once again, in the Gibson Girl style, the Diamond studs he'd had installed the previous day, a delicate Diamond pendant sitting near the implied cleavage and his soft, pale upper chest, neck and shoulders exposed and contrasted beautifully against the rich emerald color and he could only marvel at his own beauty. The deep breath he took sounded like a shiver. "Nice, huh?" Barbara asked, standing beside him. "Beautiful," he said, not looking away from the mirror. "You made this." "Every stitch," she smiled. "It's based on a dress Louisa wore in a photograph taken on July fourth, eighteen ninety. They had a massive event here that year and it was one of the most photographed events of that part of Louisa's life. I used computers to analyze the photos and figure out the colors in all of the fabrics. I think this is pretty close to the original piece. It took me four days just to make the gown. A week on the silver decorations, a couple of days on the petticoats and the bustle pad. Just the corset took almost two days. I love this dress, Quinny, and I am so happy that it looks this good on you." She fussed with a few stray hairs. "It's a dress fit for a princess. It's a dress you deserve to wear." She kissed his cheek. "Let's go upstairs. Remember, small steps." XXX Ann arrived at Golden Bluffs at four that afternoon. Barbara had sent a text stating that Quinn would be done by three thirty, but by the time Ann had met with students for extra help, she was already running later than she'd hoped. This 'date thing' had her a bit worried, but she kept telling herself that Quinn was an adult and she needed to let him find his own way. She opened the door to Barbara's workshop and called, "Hello!" into the room. "Oh, hey," Barbara appeared. Strangely, she was wearing clothes that were definitely not work clothes. Tight skirt, sleeveless tank top and heels - she was also wearing makeup, which was actually pretty rare for Barbara. "Do you have a date, too?" Ann asked, teasing just a bit. "I do," Barbara smiled. "Who's the lucky guy?" "You are," she said, grabbing her purse. "Quinn has lots of time before his class, you probably had nothing for dinner last night and won't get home till after seven thirty, so you and Quinn and I are going to go to Mastro's for a nice dinner before his class." "That sounds great," Ann replied, a little sadly, "but with the amount of money I've spent on Quinn this week, I just cannot afford to eat someplace like Mastro's." "That's why it's my treat," Barbara seemed very upbeat that evening. She checked her look in the mirror. "I clean up pretty nicely, don't I?" "Yes, you do," Ann said, but she didn't want to have her friend paying for her dinner. "Barbie, I appreciate the offer, but..." "But nothing," Barbara paid no attention to Ann's concerns. "Annie, I have a good income, I live in my mother's house, rent free, I have no plans for the evening, so I am going to Mastro's and I am buying three meals. Now, you and Quinn can come along and eat two of those meals, or you can not come, I'll still order the food, and you will be responsible for the food being tossed in the trash. Your choice." Ann laughed. "Ok. We'll come, but only because I couldn't handle the guilt of wasting the food. So... where's Quinn?" Barbara looked around, then smiled in a very satisfied way. She took out her phone and showed Ann a photo. "Look at this. I put him in my favorite dress today. What do you think?" Ann looked at the photo of Quinn in the green gown. She shook her head in amazement. "You've done an unbelievable job on him, Barbie. He looks more like Louisa than anyone else I've ever seen working here." "I know, right, but... Look, Annie, Quinn's a little freaked out about this whole 'Ricky' thing." "Yeah. Him and me, both." Barbara blinked at her friend. "Really? You'd be upset if it turned out that Quinn was gay?" "What? No! Of course not," Ann said, a bit insulted. "It's just that I never considered that he was. I mean, at fourteen, he was only interested in soccer and superhero movies. The only crush I ever suspected was the crush he has always had on you. So, the idea that he was gay is just as alien to me to as the idea that he was Asian - mean, like, how is that something I wouldn't have noticed? Frankly, the 'gay' part of this doesn't bother me nearly as much as the idea that he's entering this date as a very na?ve girl. I'm just worried about him because he's an innocent little girl and God knows how much experience this Ricky guy has." "Ok, calm down," Barbara said as she looked towards the hallway door. "I'm pretty sure that I just heard Monica's laugh, so they're probably on their way back. So, let's just chill. We'll both tell him to be cautious and I'm sure that everything will go fine." "Yeah, but what if..." Ann was going to continue the conversation, but she stopped when she heard the hallway door open. "Now, you have a great time, sweetheart, and remember - Don't do anything that I wouldn't do." They heard Monica talking and laughing. "And yeah, I know, I know, it's not a date. Have a good time, anyway." Monica came around the racks first. "I'll see you tomorrow, Barb. Oh, hi! It's Ann, right. Nice to see you, again. I just love your sister. I wish she really was my daughter. God, I wish I had been that smart and lovely at her age. Well, good night, all!" She disappeared out the door in the wall behind Ann. Monica had been so focused on leaving work that she barely noticed that Ann hadn't said anything. The reason for that was, for the third, or fourth, or fifth time in just a few days, Ann had been struck mum by the sight of her brother. Barbara had done his hair differently, with a strip of hair from each side of the front of his hairline, pulled back to keep his hair off of his face. Those strips of hair were held in the back of his head by a large, playful bow that matched his dress - and what a dress it was. I had a classic, mid-twentieth century vibe to it. It would have been commonplace on any young woman from 1935 to 1965, and just considered 'classic' from then on, but it was striking. To begin with, it was yellow, but not a soft, subtle yellow, while also not a garish yellow. Just a perfect yellow. The yellow material had a floral pattern on it, but the medium sized flowers were meant to look like white drawings of flowers. They were several different styles of wildflowers with stems and leaves that looked as if they'd been drawn in pen and ink style on plain white paper, perfectly cut out and some how applied to the dress. The material was soft and just a bit clingy. Enough to fit and emphasize a woman's bosom. On a larger woman's chest, it would have looked curvy and luscious, but on Quinn, it gave the shape of the bra that contained his gentle little breasts a look of a virginal promise of things to come. The skirt was gathered at the high waist and hung beautifully from there to just below his knees. Above that was a wide, form fitting area that ran from the high waistline to just beneath his bust. It clung nicely to his corseted torso, making him look delicate and girlishly shapely. Then, the things that really set the dress apart, stood out. The neckline plunged from wide on his soft shoulders down into his modest cleavage, displaying, even on someone as under developed as Quinn, shadows that spoke of the soft, exciting feel of the breasts within. Then the sleeves. The sleeves were short and sat very high on his slender arms, but the perfect, little puff ball shape of them gave the wearer the soft innocent look of a little girl. The word 'womanchild' would probably be the best description of how Ann's innocent, little brother looked. Quinn noticed his sister's expression and looked down at his dress, a dress that he'd fallen in love with the moment he'd seen how he looked while wearing it. "What? Don't you like it?" He absent mindedly took hold of both sides of the skirt and fluffed it just a bit. Ann looked at Barbara and shook her head. "I'm going to assume that you picked this out." "We picked it out together," Barbara smiled proudly. "I'm also going to assume that this cost a lot more than the forty dollars I gave him to buy a dress." "Not a lot more," Barbara still looked proud. "Barbie, you can't keep..." "Alright," Barbara nodded. "I'll stop, now. Well, right after dinner, ok? It was so much fun, though, Annie. Quinn had never been dress shopping before. It was like I had a little girl to spoil. I didn't intend to buy everything that we bought, it just happened and I don't regret it for a moment." "You didn't intend to buy 'everything?' How much did you buy?" She thought for a moment. "Not much. Just..." she sighed dramatically. "... four dresses, two slips and two new pairs of shoes - BUT they were all on sale AND that was on top of the outlet price. So it wasn't that much." Ann looked at Quinn and shook her head. "You look beautiful, Quinn. Scary beautiful, actually." Quinn looked down at the dress, confused. "Scary?" "Quinn," she spoke as lovingly as she could, "that dress is not just pretty. It's sexy as hell, and I'm a little scared that you'll be sending this Ricky guy a very dangerous message by wearing it." "Oh, now stop it," Barbara interrupted. "You know better than to shame- blame someone for their clothes." "You know that's not what I'm saying," Ann shook her head. "Quinn... you've told me at least a dozen times that this is not a date. So... if it's not a date, why dress like it is?" Suddenly, Quinn looked crestfallen. "I don't mean to be over critical, or anything, honey, but... think about the message that this dress is sending." Barbara listened to her friend and thought back to her conversation with Quinn earlier in the day. "Annie... just stop, ok. Quinn looks amazing, end of story." "Barbie, I'm just trying to tell him to be careful." "Then tell him. Then tell him that he's beautiful, that you love him and that you hope that his coffee get together goes well. But no more criticisms, Annie." Ann looked from her stern faced friend to her sad little brother and shook her head. What was she doing!? She sounded just like her own mother. When Ann had started dating at sixteen, her mother drove her nuts and drove a wedge between the two of them with her constant harping about being careful. She hated her mother for several years because of that kind of criticism. Is this really how she wanted to treat Quinn? She walked over to her brother and looked him up and down. "Quinn... you look better than amazing. You look... perfect." "Like the new Princess of Newport," Barbara said quietly from a few feet away. Ann smiled. "Like the new 'Princess of Newport.' Quinn... I love you so much and I just don't want anything to happen to you. So... don't go anywhere secluded with this boy. Never leave your drink out of your sight, men have been known to drug girls through their drinks. Don't let him talk you into doing anything you don't want to do and, above all, please, please, please..." she put a hand on each of his shoulders and stepped closer to hug him, "...please forgive your idiot sister for everything she just said, because she couldn't stand it if you ever stopped loving her." "No chance of that Annie," Quinn laid his head on her shoulder. "Thank you." XXX Dinner was uneventful. Ann had pasta primavera, Barbara had eggplant parmesan and Quinn just had a bowl of Italian Wedding Soup because he didn't want to feel heavy and bloated at dance class. There were a few remarks made about the dangers of falling for a guy too quickly and Quinn just shook his head at those. There was also a moment when Ann made a comment about Barbara knowing about being heart broken, but Barbara put an end to that topic immediately, leaving Quinn to wonder what had happened. Finally, just before seven that night, Barbara's little hybrid pulled up in front of the studio. She put the car in park and looked into the back seat. "This is it, Quinny. Have a great time, and remember - whatever happens, we love you." Quinn thought that was an odd statement, but decided that it was meant to be supportive, so he just said, "Thank you, Barbara." Ann got out of the passenger seat, then opened the back door and extended a hand to help Quinn get out. They walked in silence to the door and then Ann asked, "Are you ready for this." Quinn smiled and nodded. "Yeah. How about you?" That made Ann smile, too. "I think so. It's just hard to see my little boy all grown up to be such a pretty woman." She kissed his cheek. "Have a great night, Quinn, but..." she thought about giving him another warning, but realized that there was no reason to do that, so she changed tacts. "... don't stay out too late. We have to set your hair when you get home and I have school in the morning." He smiled, knowing she was just teasing. "I'll do my best." They kissed each other's cheeks and Quinn disappeared into the studio. Ann pulled the front passenger seat door open and sat down again. She looked back at where Quinn had just been standing and she asked her closest friend, "Do you think he's going to be ok?" "Yeah," Barbara answered. "I think he's going to be great." XXX From 'The Autobiography of Miss Louisa Harper' ~ "My first date with Langdon, or Lanny as he was called, was arranged by our mother's, which was odd, since I'd known Lanny since the day I was born. Formality and discretion were important for the societal norms of our community of wealth and pretense. We met on the east veranda of Golden Bluffs for afternoon tea. Lanny looked very handsome in a linen suit, smelling of Pinaud Clubman aftershave, his light brown hair darkened a bit by the bear grease in his pomade. Both of our mothers as well as Father acted as chaperones on that first afternoon. Tea was lovely. Father and Lanny both preferred coffee with their finger sandwiches and petit fours. I had been given very specific instructions that, while at the table, I was to only speak when spoken to and to keep my responses short and polite. Mother and Mrs Beech-Thorndyke discussed what dress I'd be wearing to the upcoming ball, while Father and Lanny discussed business and investments, and I sat in the middle, listening to both conversation and awaiting the opportunity to answer any questions directed towards me. "The silk chiffon came from Paris and is being worked by Chappell and Cormier Clothiers of Fifth Avenue," I could hear on my right side. "We found the most elegant drawings from a Parisian designer and Antoine is working from those to create her gown. We could have ordered it from Paris, of course, but she is developing so quickly, now, that we didn't know how to anticipate her curves ahead of time." "She certainly is," Mrs Beech-Thorndyke stated, as she pursed her lips and looked at me with the eye of a person considering the purchase of a horse, annoying me in the process. "Just a year ago, I remember her being as flat as a board, but her figure does show some promise, now." "Indeed," Mother played the part of the horse's salesman. "Little bulbs grow into beautiful tulips." As embarrassing as I found that conversation on my right, from my left I could hear, "The steel industry is just not as profitable as it was thirty years ago." Father lamented the difficulty of his life. "Railroad construction has slowed, of course, but the real problem is in the factories and the mines. These uneducated mongrels don't understand finance. They're not interested in hearing how much hard work and sacrifice goes into making the profits that pay their outrageous salaries. Instead of being grateful for the jobs they have been given, they think that they're entitled to a portion of the profits." "Ludicrous," Lanny spat, disgusted by the very idea of these people wanting to earn a living. "Mark my words, these unions that they are trying to start in every factory in the country will be the death of the entire American way of life." I wanted so badly to comment on Father and Lanny's conversation, but my attention was drawn back to the right side when I had to request that Mother repeat her question. "The ball, Louisa. Do you know if The Commodore's granddaughter will be there?" By 'The Commodore's Granddaughter,' she was referring to Gertrude Vanderbilt, who was the same age as I and my biggest social rival on both the islands of Manhattan and Aquidneck. My answer should have been, 'Yes, mother, I'm sure she will be. I saw her in town last month and she said as much.' Instead, my mouth asked the question my brain had formed by listening to Father and Lanny. "Why should the person working in the factory not have at least some share of the profits created by his work?" Mother's eyes opened nearly as widely as Mrs Beech-Thorndyke's mouth gapped. The men just grew silent and looked at me with pity for my ignorance. Eventually, my father's head shook, just a bit, and he turned to Lanny and said, with disdain dripping from each word, "You'll have your hands full with that one. Her mother did not teach her her place." Lanny smirked and gave me a look of superiority that cut me as deeply as a blade. "Don't worry, Mr Harper. I have broken-in many a filly in my day and I enjoy the challenge. This one comes from good stock and I appreciate a challenge." Until that moment, I don't think I fully understood the passion that hatred could arouse. XXX "Oh, my goodness," Sylvia gushed as Quinn entered the studio. "You look just precious in that dress, Quinn. Oh, it is such a breath of fresh air to see a young woman who truly enjoys being a girl. So many women these days never get out of a pair of jeans or an ugly business suit." She said with pity in her voice. "A young woman should look like a young woman. But, of course, you already knew that." She smiled and turned to the rest of the class. "Look who's here, everyone!" "Quinn!" Everyone greeted him. "So glad you came back." "Ricky will be so happy that you're here." "You look lovely, Quinn." Quinn decided that this wasn't so bad. These were really nice people. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen," Ken said, calling everyone to order. "It's Wednesday, and that means it's Ladies' Choice. So, what's the first dance, ladies?" At that moment, every woman shouted something different. "I heard Bossa Nova!" Ken announced. "So, grab your partners and let's review the steps before we start." Quinn looked around. Ricky was nowhere to be seen. He felt a wave of disappointment pass over him. He'd put in a lot of effort to look nice tonight, and now... no Ricky. The one plus at this moment was that the Bossa Nova wasn't a dance he needed to know, so he didn't need to dance right now. He headed for the snack table to get a bottle of water. "May I have this dance?" A man asked from behind Quinn before he reached the table. Quinn turned and saw a man he'd been introduced to the previous night, but he could not remember the man's name. "Oh, umm, thank you, umm..." "Abner," the octogenarian said with a friendly smile. Quinn apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch everyone's name last night. Thank you, Abner, but I think I'll sit this one out." "What?" The man's eyes opened wide. "Sitting out a Bossa Nova is unheard of." He smiled a very sweet smile. "Come on, dear. I know that I'm no spring chicken, but I still have a few moves in me and I promise not to step on your toes." Quinn had no choice but to smile at his sincerity. "Ok, thank you. I don't know the steps, though." "It's easy,"Abner said. He took Quinn into the proper position. "Follow me." He explained the steps and soon the music began. "Hold on tight, my dear, and enjoy yourself." The older man recited the steps to Quinn as he led the boy around the dance floor. As he had the night before, Quinn found that the dance was easy once he'd been around the floor a few times, and more importantly, it was a lot of fun. When the song ended, Judy called out, "What's next, ladies?" Sylvia was first to respond. "Boogie-Woogie!" The group of older people all let out sounds of approval. "May I take over?" A man who, Quinn eventually remembered, was named Sten, asked. The man was well over six feet tall and nearly as broad, but not flabby at all - Just powerful. "Be careful," Abner teased. "She's breakable." Sten smiled. "I'll be gentle." Quinn explained, again, that he had never done this dance before, and just as Abner had, Sten explained the steps and reminded him that having fun was the primary goal. Dance after dance went by and dance after dance led to a new, elderly, yet spry dance partner. Had he been just observing the event from the outside. Quinn may have made jokes about the dirty old men wanting to dance with the pretty, young woman, but that was not the reality of the situation. These were just kind men who loved to dance in these bygone styles and who were sharing that love with the young person who'd joined their group. Each time an older man danced with Quinn, there was an older woman who was happily sitting that dance out so that this newcomer could learn and have fun, too. It was as if Quinn had suddenly been adopted by six or seven new sets grandparents and it was kind of sweet and lovely. Nearly forty five minutes of dancing with different partners had passed and Quinn was being instructed on the nuances of a proper fox trot when someone who sounded rushed and a bit breathless asked, "May I cut in?" "Ricky!" He man who was Quinn's current partner smiled and slapped the younger man on the shoulder. "You made it! We've been keeping your friend company until you got here." "Thanks," Ricky smiled, then looked at Quinn and smiled. "Hi." When he had arrived and a Ricky wasn't there, Quinn had been very disappointed, a little hurt and a bit angry, but all of these sweet grandpas had taken such good care of him that he'd gotten past it. At this point, he wasn't at all upset and he was surprised to feel those tingles again when he looked at Ricky's smile. "Hi." Ricky leaned forward and said, "I'm so sorry. I got held up at work. I was supposed to get out at five thirty, but the person who was supposed to relieve me was running late because of a sick child and I would have called, but I'm not allowed to have my phone with me when I'm working and by the time I got out to my car, you would have already been in here, so I did send a text, but..." Quinn was surprised by the onslaught of words and apologies. "Ricky, Ricky, it's ok. I was fine. Everyone here was really nice to me. Don't worry." "I know, but..." he took a breath to calm down. "... I just... I just feel bad that I asked you out after class and then I wasn't here... I was afraid it would make me look like a jerk. That's all. I'm sorry." "It's ok," Quinn smiled. "Oh! These are for you." Ricky suddenly realized he was holding something behind his back. He produced a bouquet of a variety of different flowers with a medium sized sunflower in the middle. This was not the run of the mill bouquet of flowers that a person picked up at a grocery store or a gas station. This was a little work of art. "I went to a flower shop down the street from where I work and I asked the florist to make something that featured a sunflower. You know, like the ones on the dress you wore last night." He smiled as he presented the bouquet to Quinn. For his part, Quinn was momentarily speechless. He'd never been given something like this before. Not only was it lovely, it was thoughtful and showed a lot of care - and a lot of feeling. It was also a very romantic gesture. Something that a man did for a woman. For a woman for whom he felt romantic feelings. That was confusing, but then again, it was the very first romantic gesture that Quinn had ever received. He was already feeling tingles down his spine at the mere sight of Ricky and his handsome smile. Now, he felt a hurricane of butterflies spreading from his very core and those butterflies were bringing all of those feelings to his face, causing him to blush, smile uncontrollably and his eyes to water up with joy and confusion. "Oh... my God, Ricky..." he looked from the thoughtful bouquet to the handsome smile and back again. "... I've never been given... Ricky... they're beautiful. Thank you. Thank you, so much." Then, without even a thought, Quinn threw his arms around Ricky's neck and hugged him. When the hug ended, Ricky was beaming with happiness, both because Quinn wasn't upset and that the bouquet had been received so well. "I'm glad you like them." "I love them." Quinn dabbed at his eyes then noticed that everyone was watching the scene that had been playing out in the studio. He smiled and held up the flowers to show everyone. "Look!" The joy on his face was spreading to everyone else. "I got flowers. Ricky brought me flowers." XXX When the class ended, Ricky and Quinn walked out together to get into Ricky's rather ancient, but very well maintained, Chrysler Sebring convertible. "It was my grandfather's car," Ricky explained. "He took really good car of it and told me he'd give it to me if I learned how to take care it. So, I have to change my own oil and filters. I do most of the maintenance myself - you know, break changes, tire rotations, stuff like that. It's got like two hundred and sixty thousand miles on it, but it runs really well." Part of that explanation was to explain why he drove an old car, part was to reassure his would be passenger that the car would be safe to get in to, and part was just a bit of a brag about being able to maintain the car himself. "I think it's a beautiful car," Quinn said, honestly. "Your grandfather had good taste. When did he pass away?" Ricky laughed. "Oh, he's still very much alive. He'd only give me the car if I was willing to learn how to work on it. I think that he had a couple of reasons for doing that. I mean, yeah, it's good to know how to work on a car, but by insisting that I spend my weekends in his garage learning from him, he knew where I was for most of my teenage years. Also, by giving me this car, he had an excuse to go buy a new one. I don't think he'll be offering me his BMW any time soon." Quinn smiled and sniffed his fragrant bouquet once more. "Drive safely, you two!" Sylvia called across the parking lot. "And be careful!" She laughed after saying that, but neither of the young people caught her joke, if one was implied, and so just waved back. Ricky walked Quinn over to the passenger side and opened it for him. When Quinn got in and pulled the skirts of his dress in, Ricky closed the door, then walked around and got in the driver's side. He fastened his seat belt and started the engine, then looked at the beautiful girl beside him. "I don't think I mentioned how pretty that dress is." Quinn looked down at the skirts, then back. "Oh. Thank you. My friend Barbara helped me pick it out." "Well, at least one of you has great taste," he smiled. "I was thinking we could stop at the Newport Creamery down on Bellevue, but they close at nine, so there's this place in Jamestown that I know of that's kind of a sandwich place, but they have coffee and baked goods and they're opened later. Is that ok?" "Great," Quinn felt as if he was up for anything. This was really the first taste of freedom he'd had in his whole life. At fourteen, he was able to ride around on his bicycle and get himself a snack at a convenience store or something like that, but he had never had a night like this. A night to go out with a friend and just hang out and talk. "What kind of music do you like?" Ricky asked as he pulled out of the parking lot. "I don't know," Quinn admitted. "I just like music." "Fair enough." Ricky connected his phone to a USB cable that was connected to a radio that was at least fifteen years younger than the car. "I listen to a lot of show tunes. Is that ok?" "Great." In fact, Quinn knew very few show tunes. They had the DVDs of 'The Sound Of Music,' 'Little Shop of Horrors,' and 'Mama Mia' at home, so he knew those, but not much else. Music came out of the radio. Ricky turned to look at Quinn. "I love this song. It's from 'Les Miserables.' Do you know it?" Quinn shrugged. "No. Sorry." All of a sudden, Ricky began singing along with the song. Quinn had never seen anything like this before. Some one confident enough to just sing in front of someone he barely knew! "There Out in the darkness A fugitive running Falling from God Falling from grace God be my witness I never shall yield Till we come face to face Till we come face to face..." Quinn smiled as he looked at his new friend. Ricky really did have a nice voice. And he was confident enough to just relax and sing. That was amazing. And he was so handsome. That night he wore the nice fitting, well pressed jeans, again, as well as a nice, white Oxford shirt and a different sports jacket, this one was burgundy. Ricky sensed Quinn looking at him. He smiled. "What's the matter? Is my singing that bad?" He laughed. "No, I like it. I was just looking at how you're dressed. You look very handsome." "Really!? Well, thanks! My roommate at college tells me I dress like an old man. I like having a sports coat on in the evening. I think it dresses up whatever else I have on. Looking at you, though, I feel bad that I didn't wear a tie. You really look beautiful, Quinn, but you already know that." "That's a weird thing to say." Quinn didn't know if he was being complimented or insulted. Ricky laughed. "Why is that weird? Look at you. You're a beautiful woman. How could you not be aware of that?" Quinn turned and looked out the windshield, but Ricky saw a smile spread across her face. "You don't think you're beautiful?" Quinn blushed a little and shrugged. Ricky took Quinn's hand in his. "Well, you are, Quinn. Never forget that. You are beautiful." Quinn looked forward and bit his lower lip to keep from smiling even more broadly. "Ricky?" "Yeah?" Quinn thought for a moment before speaking. "I know this might sound weird... well... frankly, my whole life is pretty weird, but other than doctor's appointments and a few dinners with my sister and a couple of family friends... this is the first time I've been with somebody my own age since I was in eighth grade. So... if I come off as weird, it's because I don't know how to not be... weird, I mean. Ok? So... I guess what I'm saying is... Can I ask you to be kind of patient with me?" Ricky raised Quinn's hand and kissed the back of it. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Quinn. I'll be as patient as you need." That was a relief to Quinn. He just needed to make sure that Ricky understood that. He liked that Ricky had kissed his hand, though. That felt nice. A little European in a way. Gay men just seemed so much more relaxed than straight men. Quinn could envision a very long friendship with Ricky. That was exciting. XXX The sandwich place that Ricky chose could not have been more perfect. Lots of wood, the great smell of coffee and pastries and a classical guitar player playing quietly in the corner... it was just bohemian enough to seem very adult and sophisticated to the inexperienced boy. "I'm hoping to be a psychiatrist eventually," Ricky explained. "They have a really good program at URI, so I went there. I would have liked to have gone away to college, but there was a great program just over in Kingston, so it didn't make sense to spend all that money to move far away. How about you? What do you want to do when you finish college?" Quinn shrugged. "I don't know for sure." "No ambitions?" "Of course I have ambitions!" Quinn replied, playfully insulted. "For a long time, walking was my primary ambition." That made Ricky chuckle. "Ok, but you've achieved that with aplomb. Anything beyond that?" "My dad was a teacher and my sister is a teacher, too. That always seemed like a good job. So, I might do that, but I really don't know." "Then why spend all that money to go to Salve?" "Actually, I'm a scholarship kid," Quinn explained. "The accident and all that... I got a lot of pity money." "Oh, come on, don't be like that," Ricky cajoled. "Don't resent people for wanting to help. It's not pity, it's social consciousness and goodwill. That's all." "I guess. And I don't resent them, per se. It's just a little embarrassing. 'Poor Quinn,' you know?" "I get it," Ricky smiled. "I'll leave that subject alone. So, what do your parents think about you becoming a teacher." Quinn just shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know." That surprised Ricky. "Wow, really? You guys aren't close? You don't share with each other?" Quinn looked around, but could see no way out of explaining things. "You know how I said before that my life is pretty weird?" "Yeah." "Well, this is kind of part of that." He took a deep breath. "See... My brother, Anthony, was turning sixteen and my parents wanted to do something special for him. So, they decided to take us to Six Flags New England up in western Massachusetts." "I love that park!" Ricky contributed. "Yeah. It's a great park. Well, anyway, we got there early and had a great time. We stayed until they closed at nine that night. Tony had a great day and we left the park really happy." "Nice," Ricky smiled. "I was really tired and I fell asleep pretty quickly. Then..." he shrugged again. "... then I woke up in the hospital. They told me that I'd been unconscious for four days, that my back was broken, that I might never walk again and that my mom, my dad and my brother had all been killed in the accident." "Oh, Geez, Quinn... I'm so sorry. So just you and your sister survived?" "No. Annie was up in Providence at Brown working on her PhD, which she never got because she had to quit to take care of me. See... my life is weird." Ricky shook his head. "Quinn, your life is a miracle. You should never feel like people are pitying you, because they're not. They're in awe of you." He squeezed Quinn's hand. "Just the fact that you are sitting here tonight is a miracle." Ricky looked at Quinn and knew that this was an uncomfortable subject. "Tell you what. I am very grateful that you felt comfortable enough to share all of that pain with me, but I will never ask you about it again - PROVIDED - you promise to remember that I am always here for you if you ever need to talk about that or anything else. Ok?" Quinn nodded and thought for a moment. "I'll agree with that provided you promise to never look at me like I'm a victim. Everyone else I know does that already. Please, never do that to me." Ricky's smile was the most love-filled expression that Quinn had ever seen. "I promise." He kissed Quinn's hand for the second time that evening. "Let's talk about something else. Quinn is beautiful name. Where does that come from?" Quinn didn't quite know how to answer that. "Ummm... Ireland, I think." Ricky laughed at that answer. "Fair enough, but how did it end up being YOUR first name?" "Oh!" Quinn smiled and it was Ricky's turn to feel butterflies. This girl was just so pretty! As Quinn continued, Ricky just marveled at every little thing about her - The way her eyes sparkled in the low light. The way her cheeks filled out when she smiled. The way that the freckles made her look so much younger than she really was. This was an amazing girl. "My grandmother's maiden name was Mary Elizabeth Quinn. I didn't know her because she died a few weeks before I was born. Anyway, my mother didn't know if she was going to have a girl or a boy, but figured that Quinn would work either way. So - they named me Quinn." "I bet your mom was thrilled when you were born and were such a beautiful girl." Quinn guffawed at that. "I don't know about that. How about you? How did you end up being called Ricky?" He looked around and said, in a confidential voice, "Can I tell you a secret?" "Yeah, of course." "Ricky is not my real name." "Whaaaaa?" Quinn made a show of being overly enthusiastic. Ricky shook his head. "Nope. My real name is Dennis." "Then where did Ricky come from?" "Well," he looked around again in a pretense of espionage, "apparently, I was a very precocious five year old - shocking, I know - and one day I just announced that my name was no longer Dennis. From then on, I wanted to be called Ricky and that was that." 'Wow!" Quinn laughed at the story. "So everyone just went along with it?" "Well, they way my mother tells the story, I had a zero tolerance for non-capitulation. I guess I was quite the diva and if anyone dared to call me Dennis or Denny, I either ignored them until they came to their senses, or I was quite quick to put them in their place. Regardless, I've been Ricky ever since, which is kind of weird, since, now that I think about it, I think I prefer Denny to Ricky." He looked off in the distance in pantomimed thought. "Nah. I'll stick with Ricky." "You could pick something else, if you wanted," Quinn teased. "What was your grandmother's maiden name?" Ricky scowled. "Llewelyn." He shook his head. "I don't think that'll work. Ricky it is." They both laughed and the evening wore on with more laughter and more coffee and more friendship developing between them. XXX From 'The Autobiography of Miss Louisa Harper' ~ "Lanny and I took a walk on the lawn after tea. Mother had given me very specific instructions to repair the damage I'd done at tea, but my ire was still high and I was not particularly interested in being seen and not heard. As we proceeded across the vast, open, lawn area towards the cliffs near the end of the estate, I stomped a good eight to ten steps in front of Lanny and spoke not a word. "Louisa, please slow down," he called from behind me, but I persisted in stomping on. Eventually, Langdon ran ahead of me and asked me to stop. Since he stood directly in my path, I acquiesced. When he asked me why I was behaving as I was, I responded with venom. "How dare you!" I spat. "How dare you refer to me as an animal! A dumb, filthy animal that you plan to break!" The more I spoke, the more my anger rose to higher levels. "You and Father sit in judgement of everyone, EVERYONE, while the rest of us endure your haughty superiority. Well, let me tell you something, Mister Langdon Beech- Thorndyke The Third, you and the other men of your ilk may intimidate the rest of the world, but you will never intimidate me." The look on Lanny's face spoke of his surprise at my behavior. "Louisa," he spoke with a calm rationality that was more irritating than I can explain, "when I compared you to as a horse, I meant it in only the most complimentary way. I meant that, like a horse, you are a magnificent thing and I would be honored to be the man who helps you to become a pillar of society. It was not meant to be insulting." "Not insulting?" I had left the good girl my mother had raised somewhere back on the veranda and I was now a force of nature. "Langdon, just now, as you were explaining how much respect you are showing me, you referred to me as 'a magnificent thing.' A THING, LANGDON. I am not 'a thing.' I am an intellect, a soul, an anima, a person, Langdon. I. Am. A. Person. That is what I am and I will never be made to feel as if I am anything less than a person. I am not your... thing... your bauble... your pet or your decoration and I never will be." Langdon folded his arms and looked at me in a new and odd way, but did not say anything. Not able to suffer the silence of the moment, I spoke a bit less loudly. "Perhaps it would be best if we returned to the veranda and explained that I am not a suitable prospect for a fianc?. It would be best if we did not allow our parents' expectations to grow beyond their current level." "Why should we do that?" Lanny asked in that irritatingly calm voice. "Because I just made it clear that I could never be the perfect, unthinking wife you desire." My venom was lessening a bit. Langdon nodded and looked out over the ocean before speaking. "I love the ocean, Louisa. I love how the ocean can look like it does today; calm and beautiful, yet the reason I love it so much isn't just because of that beauty. I love it because I know that beneath that beauty there are depths that will fascinate me for my entire life. Because, if I were to live a thousand years, I would never know the true depth and power of what that beauty contains." He turned and looked at me with a very serious look. "Louisa... this morning, I told my mother that I had reservations about speaking to your father about our future together. After all, you are much younger than I, you are known to be a fashion maven, something about which I have no interest, and I was under the impression that your only interest in me was for financial security.' 'Well, my mother made it clear to me that I had no real financial security to offer. I was not aware of it, but my family is struggling financially. So, as she explained, it was incumbent on me to look to you for that stability. I should make it clear, however that I shall never do that. My parents have given me a good start in life and I will capitalize on that, succeeding or failing on my own." He looked to me to see if I was shocked, but I was not. I was intrigued. Many of our social class were struggling to maintain their family's wealth, but no one I knew would ever admit that to someone outside of our own family. "Perhaps the resentment I felt towards you because of my own family's diminished fortune led me to be as boorish as I was earlier, but that is no excuse. I apologize for that, Louisa." I was stunned by his words and I was shocked when he took my hand and looked into my eyes. "Dear, Louisa. I have just now seen a glimpse beneath the surface of your beauty and I know that, if I were to live for a thousand years, I will never know the true depth and power that your beauty contains, but if you will have me, I would be honored to be your partner, your lover, your husband for as many years as God grants me." XXX The last mile or so of the ride to the house that Quinn shared with Ann was fairly quiet. Quinn had had a very nice, somewhat exciting, somewhat confusing evening and the last thing he wanted was to have it end. "It's just up here on the right," Quinn instructed as they approached the house, sniffing the sweet perfume of his bouquet once again. Suddenly, he became aware of the peeling paint and poorly trimmed bushes that distinguished their home from the others in the neighborhood and declared to everyone who saw it that something had happened to this family - something that made their priorities different from everyone else's. "Hey, nice place," Ricky said as he pulled the car to a stop. "Just you and your sister?" "Yeah," Quinn answered, a little taken aback by the compliment on the property. "Annie tries her best to keep up with the place, but it's hard for her. I'm hoping that I might be able to help out a bit when my back feels better." Ricky got out of the car and hurried over to help Quinn. "How far away is the ocean? I can smell it, but you can probably smell it everywhere on the island, right?" "Probably," Quinn shrugged. "There's a beach about two blocks over that way. We're on the east side of the island, so the beaches are ok. The west side is the rich side, so those beaches are nicer." "We should go sometime," Ricky said enthusiastically. "I love the beach. My extended family have a place near the ocean in Westerly on Misquamicut beach. It's nice and the waves are fun, but the water is cooooold!" Quinn didn't respond to Ricky's offer, knowing that a bathing suit might be a challenging thing to deal with. Instead, he climbed the three steps to his porch and turned to Ricky. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow night." "Yeah, ok," Ricky was feeling awkward for the first time since arriving late to class. "I... ummm... I hope you had a good time." "I had a great time." "Good, because I did too." Ricky struggled to come up with any conversation ideas that might prolong the evening for even a few more minutes, but drew a blank. So he just looked at the beautiful face of that girl in that amazing yellow dress and he waited for her to say something. The problem was, though, that Quinn was staring at the handsome face of that boy with the black rimmed glasses and not thinking about much else. Neither was aware of it, but as the minutes passes, their faces grew closer and as a result, so did their lips. Then, with neither of them being fully conscious of it happening, their lips touched, softly, and only for a few moments. They separated for a moment, then it happened again. This time more passionately and for longer. Then, as if waking from a dream, Quinn's eyes shot open and he pushed a very confused Ricky away. "What are you doing!?" Quinn shouted louder than he meant to. "I... I was kissing you. Why? I thought that you wanted to kiss me, too." Ricky was very confused. "But you're gay!" "I'm gay?" Ricky looked even more thrown than before. "I'm not gay! Who told you that I'm gay?" "Sylvia. Last night when I met you, she said you were gay." Ricky laughed. "Sylvia said I was gay!?" "Yeah... and then... well... you dress well, and your hair is nice and you like show tunes, so..." Ricky rolled his eyes. "Ok, I get it. I'm not exactly a Neanderthal, but I'm not a sissy, either. Yeah, I dress well and take care of myself, but that doesn't make me gay. And sure, I like show tunes, but lots of people like show tunes." He took a breath. "Look... maybe I misread this whole situation. If you're not interested in a dating situation, then I apologize for coming on too strong. We can, you know, just be friends if that's what you want. Ok?" "I'm... I'm a little confused right now, Ricky. I just... I just didn't think that tonight would end this way - with kissing, I mean." He straightened his dress just to do something other than look into Ricky's eyes. "Well, that's disappointing, because all day long, I've been hoping it would end with kissing, but... hey, I understand if you don't feel the same way that I do. Why don't we... let's just call it a night and maybe we can talk after class tomorrow, ok? I'm really sorry about all this, but... I guess I'll just see you in class." "I'm sorry, too," Quinn didn't know how to feel about the whole situation. He wanted to run into the house and hide, while at the same time he wanted to grab Ricky and kiss him again. His brain was at war with his heart and he didn't have any idea what to do about it. One thing he did know was that the feeling in his chest as Ricky walked back to his car and then drove away, was raw, painful despair. It took every fiber of his being to not run after him and ask him to stay. When the rear lights of the Sebring disappeared up the road, Quinn opened the door to find Ann waiting just a few steps inside. She looked concerned as she asked, "Are you ok?" He shook his head and fell into her arms. "You heard?" "I didn't mean to listen, but I heard you yell and came running." She hugged him tightly. "I might be wrong, but I think you're feeling something for this guy, aren't you?" Quinn nodded. "It's hard to open yourself up to something new, Quinn." "Annie... I don't know what I am right now?" She laid her head on his. "You're a person who is falling in love with another person, Quinn. That's all." "But he's a guy, Annie. I didn't think I was gay, but I really, really, really like him, and when I kissed him... I don't know what to do. It'll never work out." "Quinn, being gay or straight or anything else isn't just a black or white thing. You are a person and you're having feelings for another person. That's a beautiful thing, honey. Don't fight it. Accept it." He stood straighter, pulling back from Ann's hug. "It doesn't matter. It will never work out. I'm a boy and he's a boy and he's straight, so that doesn't work. Also, I'm disguised as a girl and he has feelings for me, but I'm NOT a girl, so those feelings aren't real. So... remember what dad used to say when he couldn't fix things? He'd say FUBAR and throw it in the trash." Ann nodded. "I remember. He said it stood for. 'F-ed Up Beyond All Repair.'" "Yep. And that's me and Ricky. FUBAR." "No, honey, it's not," Ann tried to encourage him. "At least it doesn't have to be. Maybe, if you explain everything to him..." "Then what? Then he falls madly in love with me even though I'm guy? Not likely. If I'm lucky, he'd just storm out. If I'm unlucky, he'd beat me up first." He flopped on the couch and shook his head. "Annie... when I said that I didn't know what I was, I didn't mean gay or straight. I meant... I don't know if I'm a boy or a girl. Look at me. My hair is long and wavy, I smell like flowers and fruits, I'm wearing a dress and I even have little boobs of my own. Except for a few square inches of skin, I'm a girl and, it's really hard to say this, but I really like being a girl." Ann sat beside him. "Oh, wow... this is kind of a big conversation, Quinn. Maybe you should calm down a bit before we have it. You know... give yourself a little time to think." He nodded. "Maybe. But it's not my thinking that's got me confused. It's my feelings. Annie... when I... Geez, this is an awkward thing to say to your sister, but when I fantasize about girls... and when I... you know... when I do I get hard... down there. Do you understand?" Ann rolled her eyes. "Yes, Quinn, I understand. I know how a boy's body works." "Yeah, but here's the thing... when I'm with Ricky, or when I even think about Ricky... it's a whole different thing. I don't want to play with myself or... climax or anything like that. I just... I want to be with him. To have him talk to me. To hold me. To love me. Annie - I don't even get hard down there. I just want to be a girl for him. Even before I knew he wanted me to be a girl, I wanted to be a girl for him." "Quinn," Ann didn't really know what to say, but her little brother... or sister... or... what did it matter?... Quinn was hurting and hurting badly. "Love can really suck, honey. It can hurt like crazy. I'm so sorry that this is happening, and I know that you don't want to hear it, but the only way to find out if he has real feelings for you is to talk to him." Quinn shook his head and was about to speak again when there was a knock at the door. Both siblings turned to look at the entrance in surprise. Ann looked at the clock on the cable box. "It's almost eleven. Who could that be?" She got up and went to the door, opening it just a crack at first. From the couch, Quinn could hear a familiar voice. "Oh, hi. I'm sorry. I know it's late, but... do you think that I might be able to come in and talk to Quinn for a few minutes?" Ann glanced back at her brother who shook his head. "Ummm, I'm sorry, Ricky, but it's awfully late and we both have work in the morning. Maybe it would be best if this waited until tomorrow." "Please," the voice outside of the door asked politely. "I really need to talk to her. I don't want her to feel... to feel like I do right now."