Sadie Hawkins Day

by Sydney Michelle

 

Chapter One

 

"C'mon, Jaimie, pull yourself together. He'll be kicking off Lohengrin any minute now."

I gaze teary eyed at Jan, the picture of poise in the hot pink, beaded maid of honor dress and cloak, holding her small bouquet and my trailing bridal. "But, but, I just don't know."

"Jamie, no time for wedding day jitters. You've got everything, right? Something old?"

I sniff, nod. "Mom's locket."

"Something new?"

"My dress."

"Something borrowed? You have my good luck pin?"

"On the garter."

"Something blue?"

"The garter."

"No sixpence for your shoe, so a silver dime will have to do. You're all set. Just kick off on your Mom's arm four steps after me and don't fall on that pretty nose before you reach the altar. After the 'I do's' with your veil back, well, brides are supposed to cry happy anyway."

"But, but . . ."

"Save it. The march is starting. Here. Take it."

I take the bouquet, nervously finger my engagement ring as I try to settle down. I take one big gulp, then another, but my stomach still does flip flops. I turn to my right. "Mom?"

She turns, smiling like the cat that had eaten the canary. Mother's are supposed to cry at weddings. Not this one.

She turns, reaches over to fluff out the embroidered quarter sleeves of my bridal gown. Her fingers continue up to twist and position one of my narrow, open spiral curls so it falls along the vee line to my cleavage. "Mother's privilege, Dear. I won't get to do this after today." She reaches for my veil.

"Mom! Why am I doing this?"

She draws the veil over my face, spreads it over my shoulders. "Because this is what couples do when they're in love and want to make a life together. And give grandchildren to your old mother. Because all your friends and family are here. Because your father and I approved the match. Because you're a bonny, beaming bride. Now take my arm, Dear. It's our turn to precess."

And so here I am, standing at the doors of the sanctuary, barely able to see through tears and gauze, my best friends and a future in-law doing that awkward slow march up the aisle in butter cream flared dresses as Here Comes the Bride reverberates off the walls. And me, Jaimie Alba Baird, thinking, make that positive, that I am about to be herded into the biggest mistake of my life. After all, this is forever, and Mom had been so thrilled when she heard Blake say that a houseful of children made for a happy marriage. It isn't like I had been accused of being the maternal type when growing up, pushing around doll carriages, and playing house, and just aching to have a passel of offspring. Oh no, it had been baseball and camping and resistance to dance lessons all the way.

"Left foot, Dear."

"Huh?"

"Jamie! Pull your head out! It's our turn." Mom's hand presses the small of my back and I head down the aisle, down towards a fate worse than death.

 

§§

 

"C'mon, Jaimie, it'll be alright. Better than that, it'll be fun! I'll see to that."

"No! I mean going to a dance with you is fine. Being asked to a dance by you is fine. Dressing up for you is fine. But not like that."

"Aw c'mon, Jaimie. It's fancy dress. And it's just once a year. Why New Year's Eve you said you'd do anything for me. And I was good for you. You said so."

"There's anything, and then there's anything. You know there are limits. There are always limits. Sharing a sense of where the boundaries are is what makes a couple."

"And being comfortable enough with one another to occasionally see what's a little bit on the other side is part of being a couple too. So c'mon, Jaimie. For me, Baby. Please?"

That wasn't playing fair. We had only been seeing each other a little over three months, but Blake knew perfectly well that little wheedle could get me to do about anything. And this was a giant step for man. But hey, three months in college is almost a lifetime. We had survived our first semester break, burning up e-mails and phone lines, so our friends were already starting to talk in terms of "you two." Not that that didn't feel nice.

Blake slipped onto the couch beside me, one arm sliding around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder. "Hhm, your hair smells so nice. New shampoo?"

"You should know. One of your Christmas presents."

"Don't talk." A finger, a wonderfully firm member, pressed my lips.

Lips found my throat, a tongue tip flicking over my pulse point. I squirmed. This was getting a little uncomfortable, what with the request and all, but it felt so good. The finger wound its way into my hair, winding a strand around the tip, pulling it up and back to expose my ear.

"That's one thing I like about you, Baby. Red hair suits you so. You're so warm and passionate."

The strand pulled up and back and a tongue tip slid into my ear, warm, wet, probing. I arched, moaned softly, slid forward on the couch. Dimly I knew if I didn't stop this . . . Stop? What was I? Crazy?

It was a familiar position, me on the couch, Blake's weight pressing me into the cushions as we exchanged wet, hungry kisses. We knew every point, every touch that would get the other one going, that would produce mutual arousal, that would make making the other happy the most important thing in the world. We knew them all, except Blake had just found a new one, down in the hollow of my throat, a tongue drawing, slowly, softly, across it from side to side.

"I want you!"

"And I want you, Baby. You just have to agree to do that one little thing for me."

I did what any red blooded American boy would do. I gave in. After all, why should I be the only holdout?

 

§§

 

It was afterwards, as we lay together drowsily, warmly enveloped by the smells of our loving, that I felt Blake's fingernails slide across my chest, felt the warmth of her breath on my ear, learned just how deep in I had gotten myself.

"When we get up and get showered and decent, if you can keep your hands off me, we can go shopping."

"My hands off you? Who was it that initiated this little encounter?"

Blake sat up smiling, pushing her breast long, thick, wavy black hair back from her brown eyes. "It's been almost a week, Lover, and if you don't pounce as soon as we are decently alone, a lady might think you were losing interest."

"Never my love."

That's what a lady likes to hear."

"But what's with shopping? You have a closet full of clothes already."

"But they wouldn't fit you. Besides, you need something to make you look special for the dance. Because you are."

"Now wait a minute, Blake." I sat up. You can't argue, that is discuss things, when you're lying flat on your back. Nude. At least sitting up feels more dignified.

"But you promised already."

"I promised I'd go to the Sadie Hawkins Dance with you."

"On the couch, you said anything I wanted, and little man, little Lola wants you. On my arm. At the Dance. In a gown."

"And whatever Lola wants, . . ."

"Lola gets. C'mon, Baby. For me. Please? You promised." She thrust out her lower lip in a little girl pout. She had me. Worse, she knew it. Worst of all, she knew I knew it and couldn't do anything about it.

"All the other guys have said they would?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, O.K. I guess I can't let you down. This once."

"Oh, Goodie! That's my Sugar-Bear!" She threw herself on me with a squeal. It was another hour before we were conscious enough to drag ourselves to the shower.

 

§§

 

It was January, and there wasn't a lot on the social calendar to fill the evenings, but I would have bet you any amount of money that I would not be spending perfectly good petting time trailing from store to store looking at dresses. Not short of being married for a couple of years at least, and definitely not looking through the racks for something for me. But here I was in Paradise Mall, the place to shop at ESU doing just that. Blake was demonstrating that, along with her body to die for, her feminine genes had not skipped the one that covered "shop 'til you drop."

The chains just hasn't had anything she approved of, although she had managed to decide, with my red hair and tendency to freckle, green or blue were definitely my colors, and best in dark shades. At least she hadn't made a big deal out of it, and the clerks apparently were used to young men embarrassed by holding up a gown so their girlfriends could "get a good look at it before trying it on." They just assumed the tryee would be her.

As a last resort, before taking in a movie and pizza and going back to her townhouse to play snuggle bunny, she turned us into Scherazade's. I was no expert on dress shops, but one glance convinced me this was way out of my price league for a one-time event.

"Uh, Blake?"

"Hush, Jaimie. This won't take long."

A very attractive young woman, thick chestnut hair drawn up in a casual Gibson, a jeweled hair ornament gracing her chignon, slipped over to greet us. She covered ground as fast as a defensive back, but she glided under her ankle length skirt so smoothly you would almost swear she didn't move. "Hello." She had a smile that could let you read at midnight. "I'm Thelma Coombs. May I be of assistance?"

Blake did a double take. "Aren't you, weren't you, Miss Coed National last year? Why are you working here?"

"So nice of you to know. Yes, I am, but there's a lull in the schedule, and I'm filling in for a friend for a wedding rehearsal. I worked here part time before I won my title, and it's always nice to see old friends. Now how may I help you?"

"We, that is I, that is we. I'm sorry. I didn't say that well at all, did I? I'm Blake Jones and this is my friend, my very good friend, Jaimie Baird. He's consented to be my escort at Sadie Hawkins, and we need a gown. Blue or green, dark preferably, and please, not too expensive."

We started walking toward the back, Thelma gently guiding Blake along.

"That's perfectly alright. I'll be as gentle as I can. Fortunately Miz Litton recently placed some of our barely worn line here. And her daughter, Mary Jo, buys a less expensive line for the high school proms. But those would be a bit flashier than you intend, I presume?"

"Oh, yes. We'll need something classic, not revealing, that's easy to move in."

"I think we may have just the thing."

And so I sat in a comfortable chair admiring the view while Thelma pulled gowns for Blake. Now Blake was a head turner, even being a second year law student, trim, and round in all the right places. But Thelma was in a whole 'nother league. Even with her conservative suit and silk blouse, you could tell she gave a whole new definition to trim. Not that she was anorexic, she bulged in all the right places, discretely but definitely. But her neck was well defined, you could tell her collarbone had never been broken, and when she stretched just right, her suit top and the blouse underneath rose just enough to give you a glimpse of a firm, lightly tanned waist that just screamed "Hold me!" I mean seeing the woman I loved and a woman meant to be admired from afar close up was enough to make me enjoy the show and forget that Blake was shopping for me.

But that time had to come to an end. Blake found something she liked. It had a long skirt and a free hanging halter top with a three quarter length sleeve stole coat. In emerald green. With a discrete amount of beading on the coat and the top. What she liked most of all was that it had large seams.

"With proper accessories, you will look very nice in this. But with your coloring, something in the brighter shades would show you off so much more."

"Oh, but this isn't for me. It's for Jaimie."

I have to hand it to Thelma. She didn't even blink. "Then it will definitely need tailoring. Have you gotten lingerie for the occasion?"

"No, I had just thought we'd get an idea about a dress tonight. I really hadn't expected to find anything."

"We do have everything necessary. If you'll permit me to show you to a dressing room, I'll gather up what's needed."

"Thank you. You are so very kind. I apologize for every vapid beauty queen joke I've ever told."

Thelma just laughed. "Oh, that's alright. Every cliche has a germ of truth in it somewhere. Some of the women are so busy they rarely crack a book, unless it's about pageants or exercise. All I can say is my senior year will be a breeze compared to the schedule they have me on now."

Before I knew what was happening, I was standing in a dressing room in nothing but my briefs while Thelma worked me over with a tape measure. Ordinarily you would think being felt up by a national beauty queen while standing before her in the altogether would be an arousing experience, but the special circumstances left me staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself I wasn't there. It didn't work. But at least I was too embarrassed to twitch.

While she was gone, Blake got real close. She traced my nipples with her fingertips and stood on her toes to kiss me on the nose. "I'd do more to show my appreciation for being such a good sport, but you were so good about not reacting to Miss Coed, I wouldn't want you to misbehave. I wouldn't want Thelma to think I'm dating a tart." Nevertheless she gave my buns a squeeze, just to make sure "they were fresh."

Thelma returned with a stack of boxes. She pulled things out of them, things that in the last month or so I had gotten used to taking off, just not off me. When she held up a full length, bra cupped girdle with stocking garters and pink ribbons for back lacing, she said: "You may want something that looks sexier to take off him after the big event, but this will be more versatile if he loses some weight between now and then." I turned beet red and she excused herself.

Blake helped me into the underpinnings with a minimum of comments. Somehow Thelma had been casual enough about the whole thing that except for the unfamiliarity of the positions, putting on a girdle, and panties and stockings didn't seem that big a deal. Actually, when I was rigged out, silk and satin and sheer nylon felt rather nice. It was only when Blake moved away and I got a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror did my stomach do a double gainer, half twist, full layout, difficulty rating 7.0.

"Blake, I'll look ridiculous. And you'll feel ridiculous with me."

"Nonsense. We've just started. Besides, most of the guys dressing for the dance will do a lazy takeoff on Daisy Mae. But you can look good enough for a shot at the top prize."

"Prize?"

"Didn't I tell you? The couple with the best looking guy-gal wins an all expenses paid Spring Break at Pensacola. Fun and sun, and, I understand, a very private beach. Just think, you look really good, and you could be devastating, and in eight weeks we have a whole week of formal dress or nothing at all. Or maybe in just little nothings. You know, looking at you, I think I might prefer you in a little lavender and lace."

"No, you didn't mention it. Is there anything else you forgot to mention, such as my having to join a can-can kick line to be eligible to win?"

"Don't pout. It will only cause wrinkles. Not that I can think of. It's just a little incentive to get the fellahs into the spirit of the event." She kissed me lightly on the lips and ruffled my hair, before stepping back at the sound of Thelma's voice.

"Decent?"

"Certainly. Come get my Jaimie all measured out."

My head was swimming as Thelma and Blake got me dressed and marked for alterations. They decided ankle length would be best, so at one point I was standing on tiptoes. Everything had to be let out of course. I'm not small, just a bit under average height for a man, but that woman who had shopped Scherazade's was svelte. I was so absorbed in trying to digest Blake's latest news, that I barely noticed when they pulled on my fingertips or brushed my hair back and drew my ears forward. I was still pondering the situation, trying to decide if I could get out of this without losing the best steady lay I had ever had when the two of them huddled. The mirrored sight of me in a too small dress did not make my spirits climb. The only good thing I could think of was that if I looked anything like this, no one would be able to accuse me of trying to dress for fun and profit. On the other hand we wouldn't have a week of fun and sun trying to find all those last wonderful places, either.

After the conference, Thelma gathered up the dress for the seamstress and I was allowed back into my clothes. Well sorta my clothes. Blake decided I should start getting used to the feel of lingerie, so my outer clothes went on over the new acquisitions. It was a very small sack that held my discards, not very noticeable at all.

Thelma handed over her charge card. "My treat," she said. It was the most expensive freebie I've ever gotten. The girls exchanged hugs and cheek kisses before we left. They had become good friends awfully fast. I barely heard, "Let me know how he turns out," as we left.

I was all for a bee line to the movie, a little huggy-pie and kissy-face before we grabbed a 'za and went back for some serious "getting to know you better" time. However there turned out to be one other detour: into Estelle's Jewelry Boutique. Somehow after leaving Scherazade's in women's underwear, having my ears pierced didn't seem like a big deal.

 

§§

 

We had met each other at a Bogie festival. Our love for studio movies, for plot and character over mere chase and blow 'em up, had given us a common way to talk about what we liked and disliked, how we felt, and what we hoped for. Besides, it's a lot easier to grope in the back of the houses that show old films than in the mega-mall bandboxes. But that week was a Jack Lemon festival, and, as luck would have it, the movie was Some Like It Hot. Sitting in the dark in satin and stays, watching Jack lose out in the great chase for Marilyn to Tony did not make me feel the least bit more comfortable with what I had agreed to do. Besides, my ears hurt. But Blake thought the movie was a hoot. But hel-lo, she knew half the lines.

We were back at the townhouse early. I wasn't feeling so hot, between my ears and the growing feeling that I was going to make a total fool of myself. So we ordered takeout, extra cheese, and picked up a bottle of Chianti. Her housemates were still out, so we had the place to ourselves. I chopped up the pizza and poured the wine while Blake set up music on the changer. Normally we would be leaning back against the couch, sharing pizza and wine in that stupidly romantic, I feed you, you feed me fashion. Soon we would have moved onto the real food of interest, the meal left half uneaten until later.

But tonight, food was on the table, with plates and forks, and Mood Indigo was not just a song on the sound system. Blake tried to make conversation, to replay the movie highlights, but I was a lump. The whole thing felt like an imposition, a violation of our unspoken understanding to discuss things, not just spring them on one another. Blake had fallen silent, then scooted a little closer, then drawn my hair back over my ear with her finger and traced the rim with her nail. She knew that would start my fire short of feeling that death would be an improvement. I shrugged, much as you would brush off a buzzing fly.

"Jaimie, Baby, c'mon, don't be mad."

"I'm not mad."

"You're not happy. You're not my lovin' Sugar-Bear."

"My ears hurt. And this, this thing, doesn't improve my mood. Or why you want me to wear it."

"Let's get you into bed, then. We'll get you out of those clothes, and soothe your ears, and stroke your brow. What you need is a little TLC."

"Yes, Nurse Hoolihan."

"Stop that. You know I'm not an uptight martinet. But take the glasses and bottle into the bedroom and I'll join you as soon as I get this put away."

"Yes, Ma'am.." I saluted, still sitting down. "And would the Major like the Corporal to get into something more comfortable for her?"

Blake stiffened before getting up. "Up to you." The temperature in the room dropped about thirty degrees.

 

§§

 

The bed was still crumpled, the sheets still smelled of our coupling but had not begun to turn. I sat on the edge for a minute, seriously considering getting my car and driving back to NSU. What stopped me was the knowledge that I couldn't make it without stopping, not after two glasses of wine. I could always leave in the morning.

The girdle began to itch, so shedding my clothes seemed like the least thing to do to try to get easy. The trouble was, after I shucked my shirt and pants, Blake had laced the corset girdle fairly tight, and the laces were in back, so how do you get out of this thing? It took some major contortions, but I managed to catch a lace in a finger and pull. The bow came undone, and then the laces seemed to give on their own. Some wiggles, some pulls, and the waters parted, at least enough for me to start peeling it down. Then sanity hit. Lingerie had to come off from the outside in. It wasn't hard. Panties, then roll down the stockings, then a quick shimmy and I was naked as the day I was born. A bit hairier, but without a stitch.

As I piled my clothes in a chair, my gaze fell on Blake's closet. Why not? Then she couldn't accuse me of being a stick in the mud and she would see how ridiculous this all was. I might be on the hook for the dance, but at least I could minimize the damage and get her to promise this was a one time thing. A little pout, a little cold shoulder and "I have a headache," and she'd get the message.

She had a blue baby doll nightie that had plenty of layers and plenty of room. It took little time to find it and less time to slip it on. On top of that, the hair band she used to pull her hair back to do her face lay on the dressing table. I slipped it on, adjusting it to run behind my ears. Just as I heard her come up the stairs. I ran a brush through my hair, getting it to turn under and forward just a little, just over my shoulders.

"Decent, Lover? I brought ice cream." She walked through the door, arms laden, then just stood there, mouth gaping.

I turned around, crossed my legs at my knees, pushed out one hand over the other, and did a quarter turn. In my best Marilyn imitation, which was barely recognizable, I began to coo:

 

"I wanna be loved by you,

Nobody else but you,

I wanna be loved by you,

Just you-oo-oo an' bo-boob-de doop."

 

"Lover, you're feeling better!?"

"Not exactly. But I might be persuaded to forgive you."

"Hhm. Why don't you lie down and let me see if I can't give you a fevered brow." She set her load on the dresser. "That color is very becoming on you, my Dear." She made a villainous moustache pull and leered.

"Oh, no! Not that! Mah Daddy'll be bac' with th' moahgage muh-ney anytam now." I put the back of my hand to my forehead, turning away.

"Never, my Dear. There's only one way to save your Daddy's ranch. Marry me and be my loving wife."

I turned and draped my arms around her neck. "Oh, D'Arcy, I thought you'd never ask! Of course I'll be your wife, rally I will! Love me, just love me!" That's where I think I really lost control of the situation.

She reached down and picked me up. It wasn't graceful, and if we hadn't been one step from the bed, I swear she would have dumped me on the floor. But there I was in layers of blue net, legs crossed at the ankles, open to the world underneath.

She tumbled onto the bed beside me, laughing, struggling to get out of her skirt. I lay there, eyes closed, while she kissed whatever bare flesh she could find, all the while fighting with her clothes. She settled onto my neck and I began to respond, and she got her panties down, and then she rolled on top of me.

It seemed natural to open my legs, to give her access to my privates, but the angle was awkward. She drew a pillow down, and my tail went up, and stayed high, and she had room. She found a new spot on my nipples, but returned to my neck. It was just when she tried to blow in my ear that we found one of my old reliables was temporarily out of action. But there were plenty of others, and I was soon erect, and panting as I had never done before. She got between my legs, and reached down, and took me in hand, large, sensitive, throbbing. And then she had to talk.

"Am I forgiven?"

"Yes, oh yes! Just put it in."

"Everything?"

"Everything!"

"Isn't this fun?"

"If you'd do me, Yipe!" I was inside, peeled back, the feeling nothing like I had ever known before. I raised my legs, clamped my thighs, tried to move in time with her. I lay back, closed my eyes and let her work. When I let go, I found my rhythm responded naturally to hers, and I rocked and squeezed, and let the flow run through me, and I was hers.

 

§§

 

I never did get out of that negligee. She got naked, and fed me ice cream, and bathed my ears, and took care of her Sugar-Bear. Me, I couldn't decide whether I was the gallant wounded soldier or the sick, petulant child. It was too much trouble. It was easier, nicer to lie there, to be pampered and loved. She bathed my ears, then brushed my hair, smoothed it, turned it under, gave it a few back strokes behind the hair line, "just for fullness, just to see how it looks."

I decided being close to her was worth a little game. What would be the difference from dressing up for Halloween, or for a New Year's costume party? So long as she was warm, and loving, and all lovey-dovey with her Sugar-Bear, what did I care if my ears were pierced and my hair wasn't its usual tousled mop? Another glass of wine and I didn't care about anything. I just settled in to snooze in the arms of my beloved.

The next morning found her up before me. When I came to, she had on a full black negligee that tied under the breasts, then gaped open to provide a glimpse of Nirvana within. She sat on the edge of the bed and bathed my ears again. The antiseptic cooled my swollen lobes. Her touch was gentle, the backs of her fingers traced my cheek. I sat up, starting to struggle out of the bunched negligee.

"Don't. Please. For me."

"You like me in this?"

"You need to get used to it. The dance is only four weekends away and you need to be comfortable in fine things." She looked up at the window briefly, then back. "And yes, I do. It felt nice next to me last night." She giggled. "Although your Marilyn shtick could stand improving."

"You're serious."

"I would like us to win that trip. And yes, I am. When I was on you last night, that was something I had never felt before. And afterwards, that material felt so good between us. And it felt so good, so naughty, to run my hand up under your skirt. God, I'd like to seduce you in a dress, feel your slip slide up your legs, your panties peel down, and then to have you open up to me. I'm getting hot just talking about it!"

I flipped back the covers. Uncle Peter twitched, pushing the bottom of my nightie out.

"You like the idea too?"

"Apparently. Maybe sometimes."

Blake reached down below, stroking my thighs. They fell apart to give her access. I lay back, settled my behind, moaned. I wanted her to take me, have me, use me for her pleasure and thereby please me. I wanted to give myself up to her, feel her weight on me, the slow pumping of her behind bringing me to the mountaintop,

"Is Jaimie my sweet Sugar-Bear? Is Jaimie my sweet little girl? Does Jaimie want her Blakey to make love to her?"

"Yes, oh yes, yes!"

She settled between my legs, her weight entrapping my stiffening member. Her hands stroked my neck, me cheeks, smoothed my hair. She took a handful on each side of my head, wrapping the strands through her fingers, pulling firmly but not painfully. I was totally under her control, mostly because, in some strange fashion, I wanted to be.

"Will you be my loving wife, lady in public, my whore in our bedroom? Do you want me to be your husband, your heart's desire, and I shall rule over you?"

"Yes, oh, yes." I was throbbing as though we hadn't made love in a month. I wanted her body to move over mine, her hands pulling my hair as I surrendered my all to her. I had definitely lost control of the situation.

Our negligees bunched together, our legs entangled. But I managed to raise my hips for her, to feel the pillow slide under, to feel her slide over me, encase me, entrap me, make me hers. All I wanted to be was hers. And so I was, squealing with joy as I gave myself up to her.

 

Chapter Two

 

That's how I became engaged. I didn't exactly realize it, the heat of the moment and all, but I was pledged. Twenty months later, I'm standing before the altar steps, knees knocking so loud you could hear them in a steel mill. This is wrong, wrong, wrong! There's no way that I should be a wife, especially to this overbearing jester. I'll just shelve books and be perfectly happy all by myself. I'll just turn around and walk out of here, and I'll be fine.

I look out of the corner of my eye at Blake, head up, trying to maintain control. I know that look that says "I may not know exactly what I'm doing, but we're doing it anyway." It was that "take charge" attitude that got me into this jam.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered together in the sight of God to witness and bless the joining of this man and this woman in the Holy sacrament of matrimony.

"The covenant of marriage is an honorable estate, instituted by God that a man and a woman might love and comfort one another and for the propagation of children."

No! That can't happen! I'm not having children!

It was the morning after, after we had managed to clean up and wander downstairs. Jan, who was dating Drew, was frying sausage and eggs in a silk jogging suit instead of his usual sweats. And Jean, who was stuck on Nikki, was sharing the paper with her, except he was in a blue silk shirt along with a new pair of khakis. Jodi hadn't been able to come that weekend, he was finishing a paper to work off an incomplete, so his Shelby was at loose ends, claiming she needed time anyway to read her Contract text.

"Look at who the cats drug in, finally. We thought we were going to have the drag the river for you two." Drew liked to rib Blake about us, calling us "paper dolls" since we were always joined together.

"Jaimie wasn't feeling well."

"Someone he ate, no doubt."

"Be nice, Drew. I can't have you casting aspersions on my fiancee."

Fiancee? When did that happen?

The women gathered around Blake, offering congratulations. Jan kept cooking but nodded while Jean actually put down the funnies and came over to shake my hand.

"When did this happen? I didn't have a clue you were about to pop the question. No wonder you drove down alone."

"I don't know."

"Blake says you're engaged, and you don't know? Maybe you can plead terminal intoxication and get out of it. Hey people, Jamie here . . ."

A quick, hard squeeze shut off blabbermouth.

"What? What does my sweet Jaimie say?"

"Uh, to congratulate you. When did he get the nerve to pop the question anyhow?"

"Actually I asked him. This morning."

"So that's what took you so long to get down. A little extra celebrating." Blake just smiled at Drew.

"Didn't you realize she asked you to marry?" Jean managed to whisper in my ear through a frozen smile.

"Later," I hissed back.

"So when are you getting a ring?" Shelby was always interested in jewelry.

"There's no rush. I need to get my degree and pass the bar before we tie the knot. We'll look, perhaps this summer."

"Long engagements are so-o interesting. When she sees the size of the rock you can't afford, maybe she'll change her mind." Jean always had an off-beat take on any situation.

"But first we need to go shopping to get Jaimie ready for the dance. Are you guys game for hitting the mall this afternoon?"

"Soup's on! Get it while it's hot!" Jan began putting platters on the bar.

The conversation broke down while everyone loaded up plates. Breakfast gets cold fast, so about the only sounds were munching. That and the occasional kiss.

"I don't know which I look forward to more weekends: good sex or good food. Thanks for cooking, Hon. It was wonderful as usual." Drew bent over and gave Jan a big sloppy one.

Jan blushed a little, not so much to forget to slip his arm around her shoulders and pull her close. Drew didn't have the most curvy bod in the world, but her impudently affectionate nature went with her carrot top hair. Her eyes were always laughing, and she was playful, always able to lighten up the serious and dutiful Jan. Whatever she lacked in assets she more than made up in attitude and activity.

"So about the mall?" Blake never let a topic drop unless she wanted to avoid the answer.

"Sure. Might as well start getting Jan ready." Drew's Irish eyes were smiling as she brushed Jan's hair. "Maybe we ought to do something with this mop. Give the cut lines time to soften."

"I'm game. Jean at least needs time to practice dancing in heels. Backwards." Nikki said "Gene," not our familiar "Zhan." My two buddies glanced down in their laps, embarrassed. Apparently I wasn't the only guy who had undergone a little friendly persuasion. Nikki bent forward to give Jean a peck on the lips, her brown page falling forward to hide their faces. Ordinarily Jean would have been swallowing her whole, but this time he pulled back.

"I'll go. Maybe if I take a break, I can get my head into Contracts. I just can't seem to get into it right now." The other women carried Shelby through her courses. If you thought she wasn't bright, you wouldn't make that mistake twice, but she learned through discussion. The others had to read the texts first for her to get it. Blake called her a "boy magnet" because she not only had a perm, and knew how to set her hair, but she actually did. With honey blonde hair that could hang down in spiral curls on ample breasts, and a flair for dressing well, even in student casual, she had no shortage of offers to participate in study groups.

"What you can't get into right now are Jodi's pants. But if you could, you wouldn't study anyway." The women laughed at Nikki's comment, even Shelby.

"But they're such nice pants. Soft and silky, almost as silky as what they hide." Jodi had fine, ash blonde, chin length hair. Apparently his thatch matched.

"So when are you going to ask him to the Dance?"

When? Blake, did you tell me a fib?

"He's already agreed to go. I think I'll drive up tomorrow and surprise him. That way if he needs any persuading . . ."

"You've never had any trouble persuading the boys, Counselor. That one in particular. That is, when he isn't persuading you." Drew couldn't resist a back-handed compliment.

"But he's so cute. And lovable. If I could just get him to be on time!"

"It's a good thing Jodi isn't a girl. He's always late." Jan had caught a sense of humor, even if it were a weak one, from Drew.

"She'd be pregnant all the time, cause she wouldn't remember to take her pills and can't say no." Jean roomed with Jan and knew him best.

"If that's the case, maybe I'd better propose too and move him closer. I wouldn't like to think another woman could poach if he were that weak willed."

"I wouldn't worry about that. He's a one woman at a time man." Jean hurried to the defense of his roomie.

"Still it wouldn't hurt to mark your turf with a little jewelry." Shelby didn't believe diamonds were a girl's best friend: she preferred rubies.

"If not an engagement ring, a nose ring maybe?" Jan laughed at his joke. No one else did.

"If it were subtle?" Shelby's eyebrow went up.

"Gold, of course." Drew glanced at Jan who noticeably paled.

"Small, and thin." Nikki looked pointedly at Jean.

"It would finish the look." Blake smiled at me. My blood pressure dropped.

"Of what? A harem girl?" The women were getting into this a little too much for comfort.

"Harem boy," Shelby remarked pointedly.

"Calm down, fellahs. We're not going to hold you down while your septums are pierced. You're safe with us from collars and leashes." Blake patted my hand reassuringly.

"Of course, if he volunteered . . ." Nikki drew closer to Jean.

"Cool it, Drew. The fellahs are going through a lot as it is."

"I was just funnin'"

"Fun's over. You guys get the dishes cleaned up while we figure out who's driving whom." Blake stood up, pointedly walking into the front room. The women followed.

"I cooked. You two wash and dry." Jan ostentatiously spread jam on the last muffin half.

"Pardon us, your highness, but your lowly serving staff need to clear away the dishes. If you could be so kind as to hoist that slab and not dribble. Jean, grab glasses and start on the pans. I'll pick up everything else and stack the dishwasher."

"Sounds like a plan." Jean gathered six glasses in his fingers and headed for the kitchen.

"Besides the fact they have us well trained, you'll have to unload before you can load. I peeked. I think they ran a week's worth Thursday night and left 'em."

I groaned. "They would. They buy the food, so I don't mind doing the rest. But they do seem to take advantage of the regular maid service."

"So long as they don't get any ideas about frilly aprons along with putting us in dresses for the Dance. Why did you agree, anyway? If you hadn't I wouldn't have."

"Whaddya mean me, Kimo Sabe? Blake told me everyone else had agreed. That includes you since I was the last holdout."

"I smell a rat in the woodpile. I think, O roomie of mine, that we have been snookered."

"Why don't you bring that in the kitchen and help me stack out? Maybe you and I and Jean can get our stories straight."

Jan stood up, holding the muffin over his plate. "Maybe we should go through with it. I bet Gene would look just stunning with a little gold ring hanging from his nose behind a sheer veil. If Nikki would teach him to dance the hoochie-koochie, we won't have to spring for entertainment the rest of the semester."

I piled paper on top of dirty plates and headed for the kitchen. "Careful, Harriet. You'd be just too chic hosting our little parties in a shirtwaist dress with lots of petticoats, and high heels, and an apron with those to die for ruffles up the sides. And of course you'd have to wear wrist gloves. You know Drew would insist that you be fully and properly dressed while you hand around canapes."

Jan blanched. The picture of him as the perfect hostess was a little too close for comfort. He wasted no time getting into the kitchen.

Once we were together, it was obvious that we had all been told the same story. Each of us had been told we were the last to agree and that the prize for the couple with the best looking guy was fully paid Spring Break week in Florida. The problem was, what were we going to do about it? Jan and Jean had their new casual clothes, and underwear, and I had a dress being altered. Besides, all our ears had been pierced and the girls had been so appreciative. If we refused en masse, we might just ruin the sweetest set up any of us had had.

We were still trying to decide to decide when Blake stuck her head around the corner. "You guys ready? Drew and Jan will come with us, and Shelby will drive Nikki and Jean." She was saying "Gene" just like Nikki.

"Almost. We have to put up your weekly stack and kick on the washer."

"Leave 'em. You fellahs can put it all up once we're back. Shopping will be more fun."

When we filed into the front room, we found the girls already in their coats. It had to have been a first: they were ready to leave before we were. Blake was holding my lined raincoat for me to insert my arms.

"Blake, before we go, can you assure me that prize you mentioned is on the level?"

"Sure. Don't you trust me?"

"Call me a Missouri mule, but it does occur to me that you might have mis-stated things a mite. Just as the order of our agreeing to this seems to have gotten a little fuzzy."

"Well, if you don't trust me, the travel agency that provided the prize has an office beside Paradise Mall. We could stop and get a flyer if you insist."

"I think so. On the way there."

"Oh definitely. They might be closed by the time you're all done."

I suppose I should have suspected something from that, but I was a little nervous. Just getting Blake to agree to show me proof on the trip seemed like a victory. If that was a hoax, we'd have a chance of not going through with it and still have steady bump and tickle.

 

§§

 

We were never more disappointed to find out that not only were our women telling us the truth, but it was better than they had said. Second prize was fully paid airfare and a deep discount for a week's condo rental. Then the prizes dribbled down to dinners and gift certificates. Nice, but no incentive to parade in front of a few hundred strangers. We were a dejected group of guys walking out of that travel agency. There had gone our best chance at getting out of this without demolishing the nice thing we had going with girls we really liked, except for this one quirk.

When we hit the mall, the ladies decided it was time for a strategy session, so we stopped in the food court for drinks. We would never have thought you needed strategy to go shopping, but we learned we were wrong. I had a gown in alteration, but nothing else. Drew and Nikki had started Jan and Jean on the basics but they had no gowns. Naturally we had to change partners, Shelby accompanying Blake and me while the others could browse together. The agreement was to meet back at Dillon's tea room in two hours to review progress and decide what to do next.

"One other thing: try not to look as though you were at your own executions. Asking you to act as if this were the greatest day in your life is too much to expect, not to mention overdoing it, but at least act a little interested. And no persecuted sighs or expressions." Blake looked us over closely. "That is if you expect a semblance of a sex life between now and the Dance."

As we stood up to go, Shelby had to pipe up. "Just remember, the difference between blah and a winner is in the trimmings. So think accessorize, accessorize, accessorize!" For a future lawyer, Shelby had perky down to a fine art.

 

 

 

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