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“How could she use me like that?” I thought.
Chapter 7
Once inside, I closed the door behind me and in a moment of clarity remembered to put the chain on the door to keep Cindy…or anyone else who might think they need to come in…out. I then started into the apartment proper, stripping articles of clothing as I went. Less than two steps inside the front door, my jacket dropped to the floor, followed a few steps later by my tie and shoes. My shirt and pants found themselves a spot in the middle of the living room and as I entered my bedroom the bra, socks, pantyhose, and panties all joined in.
Still half blinded by tears I plopped down naked on the bed and prayed that I could simply forget about Cindy. Maybe it made no sense at all, but part of me wished I could remove her from my heart as easily as I removed my clothes. Unfortunately that small part of me that was still in touch with reality knew that wasn’t likely to happen.
As I lay there, the inevitable happened. There was a knock, followed by another more insistent one, then finally a key in the lock and the sound of the chain lock being pulled taut.
“Come on, Kyle! Let me in? Please?” Cindy shouted through the crack allowed by the chain lock on the front door for about the hundredth time. She had followed me back to my apartment; ironically that possibility had been the only thing that had prevented me from losing it completely in the last hour.
“It’s not what you think,” she said.
I said to myself, “If she’s so sure of that, then what do I think?” To tell the truth, I wasn’t sure what I thought myself. I opted for attempting to ignore her.
In her ongoing plot to prevent me from doing just that Cindy said, “We need to talk. I know what you overheard at the reception. You have to believe me when I say it wasn’t like that.”
I rolled over on my back and stared at the ceiling, trying to prevent the memories from weakening my resolve, but that was to no avail. With each time she called to me from outside, I felt some sort of force pulling me toward the door and the inevitable conversation to come.
Finally, I pulled myself up off the bed, grabbed a robe to cover up my complete lack of clothing, and stumbled through the apartment toward the front door and the moment of truth.
“Kyle?” Cindy called yet again as I neared the door.
“What do you think you have to say that I might possibly want to hear?” I said with as much ice in my voice as I could muster.
“It’s not what it sounded like, I swear.”
“Oh no?” my voice quavered. “It sounded like you’ve been writing a paper about me without my knowledge or consent. Is that not accurate?”
She paused, taking a deep breath before saying, “That’s true.”
“Then tell me what’s not what it sounded like then?”
“Your identity isn’t revealed at any time…”
I jumped in before she could finish that thought. “Except of course to all your friends who no doubt had a good laugh at my expense.”
“No!” she stated as firmly as she could. “I never told anyone!”
“Now why don’t I believe that? Maybe it’s because one of your friends just asked you if I was the subject of your research project.”
“That was a wild guess on her part, which I denied before I came running after you.”
“Sure you did.”
“It’s true!”
I stood there on the opposite side of the door from Cindy silently for a moment before continuing. “You’ll have to forgive me for not believing you at the moment. Even if I were to accept what you’re saying, there’s still the issue of making me the subject of a research project without my consent. How ethical is that? And more importantly in the light of that, how can I ever trust you again?”
For the longest time there was no response other than silence. Eventually I could hear Cindy softly crying on the other side of the door. Finally after several minutes of listening to her cry, she managed to say, “Because I love you.”
“What was that?”
“I said because I love you. That’s why you can trust me. I swear to you, I would never do anything to jeopardize you in any way.”
“At the moment, that rings a bit hollow to tell the truth.”
Just then my mom and dad came walking up to my door, greeted by the still tearful Cindy. My father was the first to speak, “Kyle? Open up, please?”
“Not until she leaves,” I said, knowing full well that it would hurt Cindy’s feelings deeply.
“Kyle, please think about this? Let’s talk later?” Cindy begged before heading toward her little-used apartment.
I waited a moment before asking, “Is she gone?”
“Yes,” my mother replied.
I opened the door allowing my parents entry, following them into the living room where we all took seats in preparation for the inquisition that was most certainly to come.
Mom got straight to the point. “What’s going on here? You two were deliriously happy one moment, then the next…” she allowed the thought to trail off. “What happened?”
I let out a deep sigh before responding, “I overheard one of her friends ask if I was the person she was writing her research project on and I kind of freaked out.”
“Does this have to do with the women’s clothing?” my mom once again got straight to the point.
I stared at her for a moment trying to gauge how to respond before finally trying denial. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh come on son,” she scolded. “I know that a lot of the stuff in your drawers is for you, not Cindy.”
I wavered a bit but eventually opted for the truth. “Yeah, they’re mine. This is something I started because it’s helping with my playing.”
Dad finally weighed in, “How so?”
I took a deep breath before I started, “One of the first things Dr. Caroll said to me was that I had a nice, what she called feminine, touch but it was inconsistent. What I discovered was that I could sustain that touch if I could keep from thinking too much about the technical aspects of playing. What seemed to help me do that at first was to imagine myself as a girl…believe me, I know how weird that sounds…but it was difficult to maintain that image in my mind long enough to make it through an entire piece.
“Cindy was actually the one who suggested I try wearing women’s clothes as a way of maintaining my focus when I play. The amazing thing is it worked. So she took me shopping to buy a supply of panties and things for me to wear.”
I took a deep breath, then continued, “As time went on I found that the more I feminized myself, the better I played.”
“How so?” mom asked.
“At first, I wore panties,” I said, showing signs of extreme embarrassment. “But after a while they didn’t help as much, so I added a bra. Then I shaved my body hair and started wearing panty hose.” By this time I was blushing so much I’m sure I looked like a beet.
“Just this last week I started shaping my fingernails, which I let grow out because they make me hold my fingers correctly when I play. Last night Cindy helped me add clear polish to them.”
“How can something as simple as what you wear influence the way you play?” my dad asked.
“I can’t explain it because I don’t understand it any better than you do. All I know is from the moment I tried playing this way, I could tell the difference and so could everyone who heard me play.”
Mom asked, “What does that have to do with what happened tonight?”
“After a while, Cindy and I started hanging out together and eventually became involved, you might say. It didn’t start out that way, but…” I paused before continuing. “I thought she cared for me, but now…”
Dad looked at me for a moment before offering, “Maybe it’s none of my business, but when you left this evening the first thing she did was read her friend the riot act, then took out after you. I wasn’t close enough to hear exactly what she said, but she was obviously very mad at whoever that girl was.”
“Maybe, but is that because she jumped to conclusions, or because she made the mistake of letting me know what was going on?”
It was actually mom who responded, “I don’t know the answer to that. Cindy is the only one who knows the truth, and from the sound of things it may be a while before you feel like you can trust what she says.”
“You got that right,” I commented glibly.
A rather uncomfortable silence descended upon the room, as none of us seemed quite sure where to take the conversation next. It was my dad who finally broke the mood by asking, “This might sound like a weird question, but does wearing girls’ clothes really make that much difference in the way you play?”
Any spoken response was likely to fall short of convincing him, so instead I walked over to my digital piano and started playing part of the Mozart concerto I was supposed to be preparing for my appearance with the Conservatory Orchestra. I played fairly well, but obviously not up to my recent standards.
“Very nice son. But what does that have to do with your dad’s question?” mom asked before dad had a chance.
I put my index finger to my lips, got up from the piano, and made my way into the bedroom where I pulled on the panties I had removed earlier. Then I returned to the living room and silently sat at the keyboard again and played the exact same passage. The difference in the quality of the performance would have been obvious to even the most tone-deaf listener.
When I finished playing the passage again, I silently turned to face my stunned parents. As we sat there staring at each other, trying to digest what I had just done my folks seemed almost catatonic. They would look at me, then at each other, then back at me again, still unable to form thoughts into words. I think I had made my point.
I decided to be the one to break the silence this time, so I said, “Now you know. Yeah, it makes that big of a difference.”
“You mean to tell me that the only thing you did differently was put on a pair of panties?” My mom asked. Dad was clearly uncomfortable with this information, as he was still unable to form coherent thoughts.
Mom continued, “That’s unbelievable. How?”
“If I knew the answer to that one I might not need to wear lingerie,” I answered, clearly embarrassed by the line of questioning.
Dad finally managed to defrost his brain and asked, “Isn’t there some other way? I mean, isn’t it kind of weird?”
“Yeah, it’s really weird, not just kinda. But if there’s another way, I haven’t been able to find it. Lord knows I’ve tried. But once I heard the difference for myself I haven’t been able to bring myself to try playing without it. And as the semester has progressed I’ve found myself adding articles of clothing and such. With each addition I’ve gotten better.”
Dad asked, “Aren’t you a little worried about where this is all going?”
“You could say that, Dad. Until now, I at least had Cindy supporting me. Now though…” as the thought trailed off, that silence returned.
As the hour was getting rather late, I offered my folks the use of the bedroom and after getting them settled stretched out on the couch in the hope that I might eventually be able to get some sleep myself. I tossed and turned much of the night, but did finally drift off around three in the morning.
My dreams were a reflection of the just completed evening. I had multiple dreams in which I found myself feeling betrayed by Cindy and yet still unable to stop loving her. After the fourth such dream in a couple of hours, I finally gave up on sleep and got up.
I plugged in my headphones and started working on the Mozart, trying to commit it to memory. I lost all track of time and it wasn’t until mom tapped my shoulder to ask if I wanted any breakfast that I realized I’d been practicing for several hours. If nothing else, at least my Mozart would be ready for the performance.
As we finished up breakfast there was a knock at the door, so I went to see who was there. I don’t suppose I should have been surprised when I saw Cindy standing there looking at me with her best wounded puppy eyes.
“What?” I asked, still being a bit cold toward her.
“Kyle, I know you don’t trust me right now. You have every right to be that way towards me,” she said. “Is there any way we can talk now?”
I looked into her eyes and despite the hurt that was still bouncing around in my heart, I felt myself being drawn to her. I was able to remain outwardly unmoved by her plea for roughly thirty seconds before I could do it no more and finally said, “Okay.”
She started to enter my place when I stopped her saying, “My folks are still here. If there’s anything you want to say that you don’t want them knowing we might want to take this to your place.”
“I’m fairly certain that no matter how things turn out after this conversation you’re going to tell them most everything we talk about, isn’t that right?”
I couldn’t resist cracking a smile when I said, “Yeah, probably.”
“Then I guess you could say we have no secrets,” she walked in the apartment ahead of me after our conversation at the door.
When my folks first saw her coming into the living room, they started in immediately. Mom was first with her icy greeting, “Cindy.”
Dad’s greeting came right on the heels of mom’s, and was no less cool toward her. “I’m surprised to see you this morning.”
Cindy found herself standing against the wall opposite my folks, where she began, “Kyle, I realize you feel like I’ve betrayed you somehow…”
“You could say that,” I cut her off. “Tell me this. Am I in fact the subject of your research project?”
Cindy took a deep breath to steel herself before responding, “Um, yes.”
“And how exactly did you reach the conclusion that it was all right for you to do that without letting me know?”
“I didn’t think there’d be a problem,” she stated.
“Then you thought wrong,” I snapped back.
“Kyle, I…”
“I don’t think you realize how betrayed I feel right now, not to mention feeling used. I mean, do you even like me? Or was this all just an experiment for you?”
Cindy looked shocked and hurt by my question, which told me most of what I wanted to know. She did however finally respond, “Kyle! I love you! I thought you knew that!”
“I don’t know anything anymore. I thought we…” Flustered, I had to stop to get my thoughts together. “Then I find out that you’ve been using me…” I found I couldn’t go any further as I started crying.
Cindy too was in tears as she said, “I know I should have asked you before doing this. I was wrong, and I’m so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”
“I don’t know,” was all I could say.
We all sat there in silence as thoughts overtook each of us. Eventually Cindy broke the silence. “I’m sorry Kyle. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me and we can go back to the way things were before.” She then headed slowly toward the door.
I looked toward her as she was leaving and said, “I don’t know if that’s going to be possible. Maybe for now it would be best if you didn’t come back.”
She looked back at me, completely rejected, then turned and left my apartment. I buried my face in my hands to try to hide the overwhelming sorrow I felt.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No.12 in A Major, kv.414
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To Be Continued...
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Comments
Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice...
Hey Jillian,
Wouldn't surprize me at all if Cindy got horribly mangled in a car crash on her way home and died slowly before the paramedics could get her to the hospital. I'm glad Kyle didn't cave in like a love-sick puppy, I can really sympathize with him.
Well written, thanks.
with love,
Hope
with love,
HER
Once in a while I bare my soul, more often my soles bear me.
Surprising
hopeeternalreigns wrote:
It would surprise me since Cindy lives next door. That doesn't leave much room for carcrashes in a city ;)
Hugs,
Kimby
trust
What a great chapter! This really struck a chord with his being and the trust issue. Now his parents know and at least one of the other students suspects. Where do we go from here?
Hugs!
grover
I'm not ready to condemn Cindy yet ...
... there has to be more to this than has been revealed so far. What concerns me more than the Kyle/Cindy relationship is that the feminizing seems like an addiction - the more he does, the more it takes to get the desired reasults. BUT, if he follows it out to the end and becomes a woman, won't "she" have lost the necessary masculine part of the music making?
"All the world really is a stage, darlings, so strut your stuff, have fun, and give the public a good show!" Miss Jezzi Belle at the end of each show
BE a lady!
I think Kyle said that ...
... with each added piece of clothing, his playing gets better. So it's not like an addiction, where he needs more and more to reach the same level of play. Instead, the effect is cumulative ... the more he wears, the better his playing becomes. I would imagine this means that if he were to continue to the conclusion of this effort and become a woman, she would be the most talented individual on the planet! *grin*
I love this story and hope Kyle and Cindy come back together -- what they had is too good to lose over something like this.
Keep it up, hon!
Randalynn
Very Sad Ending to this chapter
I guess I can understand Kyle's feelings. I wonder where this is headed but hope that if it was/is true love Kyle and Cindy get back together. **sigh** Only the author knows which way this is headed and I hope more of it is shared soon.
Tired of sad endings
I hope and pray there is reconcilliation. She better not end up in an accident and die off. That is sick and most painful. Just last month my cousin had to bury his son because a friend of his did not pay attention with his ATV. He will have to live it with the rest of his life that he made a poor decision. Because if you do let her die, then I will delete all your stories from my hard-drive. I do not like pain, it is more important to practice love and forgiveness to bring healing. Sure, even I experienced pain while growing up. But, I make it a point to turn that around. To let it fester in the heart will also corrupt the other who has been wronged. Then Kyle will surely loose the ability to play the piano again with heart and soul. Then nothing is accomplished with the story line, then this series will go into oblivion as not a good story. No, I encourage you Jillian to find the right path for Kyle and Cindy. Kyle must trust again, or he will fail at the big Mozart concert and he will go nowhere and loose the touch. He will be known as a washed up piano player playing at bars. Obviously Cindy has learned her lesson. But Kyle must learn his lesson. Let Kyle speak to Cindy's friend to collaborate the discussion. Let Cindy's friend do the appologies. I say that they get back together, the relationship will be stronger than ever.
Just one
You kill one little character and no one lets you forget it. :sadsmile:
I'm going to wait till this is over to make a real cogent comment.
-- Donna Lamb, Flack
-- Donna Lamb, ex-Flack
Some of my books and stories are sold through DopplerPress to help support BigCloset. -- Donna
I could tell you
What's going to happen, but then Jillian would kill me, and I've got stories of my own to finish. But I can promise you less than 6 major characters will get whacked in this story. How many less is the question! ;) And I promised not to say anything about the airliner crashing into the school either. Stay tuned - same bat time, same bat channel.
hehehe!
Karen J.
Jillian's evil blonde proofer (not to be confused with John's evil blonde proofer)
"A dress makes no sense unless it inspires men to want to take it off you."
Francoise Sagan
“When a clown moves into a palace, he doesn’t become a king. The palace becomes a circus.” - Turkish Proverb
Ah... foreshadowing
It is fun, sometimes, to know what's going to happen before anyone else. And sometimes it is hard not to spill the beans. ;-)
But it is important to maintain the integrity of our Honourable Guild.
Janet
Mistress of the Evil Blonde Proofers Guild
"Lemon curry?"
Janet
Mistress of the Guild of Evil [Strawberry] Blonde Proofreaders
To be or not to be... ask Schrodinger's cat.
Who - me?
I've also been known to li - ah, tease on occasion.
I am, after all, an evil blonde. ;)
KJT
"A dress makes no sense unless it inspires men to want to take it off you."
Francoise Sagan
“When a clown moves into a palace, he doesn’t become a king. The palace becomes a circus.” - Turkish Proverb
Teasing?
Wait, how did you know about the airliner? I hadn't even told you that part yet :)
Never let it be said that I don't enjoy the occasional delusion of grandeur
Never let it be said that I don't enjoy the occasional delusion of grandeur
Another Great Chapter
Don't listen to anyone tell you how your story should go!! I think it's been great so far and I am really looking forward to future chapters. There are other people in the world he can meet and fall in love with..or they can be over and he doesn't find someone else in the story..regardless great work once again!!
Huggles!!
Alexis
Tones
Jillian, you are doing a fab job girl. I for one understand Kyles feeling of betrayel. I also understand Cindy's need to see what happens, when the subject is not aware he is being a subject, for that could taint the experiment. But I do hope that she would tell him about it, BEFORE she turns the project in after all the data is collected.
It is sort of telling someone you want to see how they walk. If they are aware you are looking, they don't walk naturally, for they are self consious. So you watch how they walk, take the notes you need, then ask if they can use these notes for the project.
What Kyle should of asked, and hasn't, and NO one has asked the most important question to date, Kyle should have asked what the project was, and how did he fit into it, and what was she trying to write about. When is he going to realize that he needs to ask her that question.
I would love to see Cindy go after that stupid ex girl friend, that said what she did, to see how she blasts her, and blame her for losing the love of her life. Will the Ex friend try to make ammends, realizing what she has done, or is she one of those people that laughs at other people's misery, and did it all on purpose because of some jealousy? I mean some graduate students try to sabotage other people's work to make theirs look better.
I do so hope Kyle will get beyond this and makeup with Cindy, they were good for each other. He really didn't give her a chance to explain what was going on, because of his hatred at this paticular time and his emotions. He is not seeing things very clearly because of this. I do so hope he realizes this before he does his big concert, for else he is going to play very poorly, and his career could be over before it starts.
Jillian, you go girl, you are doing quite well with this story.
I love it and you tell it your way, and never mind what other people say. It is your story so write it.
Hugs
Joni
Looking forward to the next installment.
The Plot Thickens...
...or doesn't, maybe. Either way, this remains an excellent story so far.
Wrote three long paragraphs relating to the discussion above about endings. What it comes down to for me, though, is that though readers can complain if they don't get the happy ending they want, they'll have no right, IMO, to say (as we rightly or wrongly did last time) that the ending doesn't follow from the storyline. These past two chapters have set up a situation that could logically lead to almost any result, positive or otherwise. That includes a fatal accident, though I think there are much better ways of getting rid of Cindy if that turns out to be the author's goal here.
Eric
Okay, I can wait, I'll be patient
Hello Jillian!!! ^___^
Okay, I can take a hint. I'll be patient and do the 'wait and read' as the chapters come forth. I realize sometimes tradegy is needed for the main character to develop into a stronger and more confident person. I can see that our hero needs to learn some lessons, especially in gaining confidence in his playing abiities. He has no understanding why it is working. Is it the underlying image in his mind that is disturbing him or is just a distraction for the nerves when being on stage? I can think of stories that are posted here that do just that. And that they are written very well. Will our hero become a heroine? That remains to be seen. So, therefore, I encourage you Jillian to keep writing the story. I am sure the moral of the story will be evident eventually. He will probably wished he had forgiven her at some point in his life. The next prayer is that he does not end up alone and learns to love again when it is all said and done. Even with another lady. Thanks again for an enjoyable story.
Rachel76m