(She Said) Something About Tulips

by Bright Eyes

 

Hector could feel as he walked back through the rain to his house that something had changed when he got dressed up in the library. He knew he should resist the urges that Kate had inserted into his mind, but in a way he did not need to.

"I am Hector," he told himself. He pressed his red lips together.

"I am Hector," he repeated as he swished through the streets, past the shoppers braving the wet weather and the children who politely stepped out of his way then watched open-mouthed as he clicked away.

"I am Hector," he said to himself as he turned the corner at the end of his street, looking at his house. There was a light on upstairs, shining faintly in the gloom of the dark afternoon. Kate must still be there. "I am Hector."

"Hang on," a thought took seed, "I'm Hector. I know I'm Hector. What am I going on about? Don't fear her. I am Hector. I am Hector even if I am wearing new sexy clothes. Stockings and shaved legs don't make me not Hector. I am Hector, I am sexy, and I'm proud of it! I am Hector." He turned and looked up his street. Now for Kate.

Picture this: Kate is standing in a darkened window, her mascara batting and a red-tipped finger twirling her long hair as she watches Hector at the end of the street. Then picture this: Hector as he takes a breath, tosses his hair and throws his chest out and starts out towards his own house, every bit the woman. Lips shining and red, stockings slut-black and click–clack heels high. Pause and picture that.

It was with trepidation that Hector opened his own front door. With anticipation that he walked inside. And with determination that he faced Kate in the living room.

"Kate."

"Hector."

A long silence. Eyes unblinking. Like a high heeled Mexican standoff.

"You look nice. Why did you run away?" It was Kate who broke the spell.

"Why did you do that to me?" countered Hector, not answering her question.

"Do what? Show you the delights of sexy clothing? Are you sorry that you're standing there in pretty eyeshadow and lipstick? Do you wish you weren't wearing those sheer black stockings? Would you rather be in your trousers, with your old hairstyle?"

This caught Hector off guard. Kate seemed genuine, to be asking an honest question, and he had no glib or ready answer. Would he be happier in his old clothes? The thought of them made him shiver. His eyeshadow? Did he want to take it off?
Did he want to…

 

But then Kate spoke again. "Confused, my lover? Not sure? Shall I help you out?"

Hector looked up at her. Her eyes were shining under her green-silver makeup and her thick black mascara, and she fingered the hem of her short skirt as her red lips murmured. Something about tulips. What?

Suddenly Hector was back inside his own mind. Suddenly his will was surrendered to Kate. Kate smiled slowly.

"I am Hector!" recited Hector again in his mind. "I am Hector!" But somehow he knew that although he was Hector, he was a Hector who now wore stockings and who sat with legs crossed provocatively. He knew that although he was Hector, he was a new Hector who wanted to wear lots of makeup. And how he did want to wear lots of makeup! Even though he knew he already had heavy eyeshadow, he felt an urge to go and reapply his mascara. You can never have too much mascara. Your lips can never be too red or too glossy. Tarty taste? Nothing wrong with that. He felt his body reposition itself to stand in a less confrontational stance, and soften into a demure, inviting pose as he sat down, smoothing his skirt and running his fingers gently on to his black nyloned legs.

"Not so confused now then, my lover? My lesbian lover? You look the part, didn't you? And bit by bit, hour by hour, more and more you feel the part, don't you?" She was talking into his mind as it whirred.

"I do," was all Hector could say. He understood now that the course of events that had led him back to the house had been nothing but the fulfilment of his programming. The escape, his brief lucidity, his transformation in the disabled toilets, all part of Kate's intentions.

"At last you're where I want you to be," continued Kate, "and who I want you to be! Now, I said you had a call to make."

"Yes mistress," answered Hector, sitting up attentively, knees together and feet pointing away from him. He smiled attractively.

"You've been cheating on me, haven't you?"

"Yes mistress."

"Well call her and invite her over," commanded Kate, handing Hector the phone, "and let her see what you are."

Hector could not refuse. His body was again in Kate's control; his mind moribund. As his hands took the phone and dialled her mobile number, Hector wondered how long she had known. All those semi-dates with Ophelia paled like an old photograph. He was Hector. He was Kate's Hector, her lesbian lover.

"Hi, it's Hector."

"Hector! Hi! You sound funny. What's up?" The crackly sound of her voice made him think of her legs – she knew how to make the most of her legs. That was what had drawn him to her in the first place, waiting for Kate at her office. The sight of Ophelia's long legs in a short skirt. That was before he had his own short skirt. That was before Kate had turned him into a lesbian, a lover of silk and lace. "Hector? Are you there?"

"Yes. Sorry. Bad reception. Listen, are you free? Could you come round for a bit? I need to show you something."

"Show me what?" She asked. It sounded like she was out somewhere public. Traffic and people.

"If I told you I wouldn't need to show you!" replied Hector.

"How mysterious! Yes, I'm free, I'm just in town. I'll be round in about fifteen minutes, is that OK?"

"Great. See you then." Hector was aware of the feeling of the satin lipstick on his lips as he spoke. It made him feel sexy and he put the phone down to look up at Kate from under his feminine lashes. He smiled shyly. "She's coming."

  

  

  

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