Wasn't it just too slutty? She felt confused. Slutty was bad, right? . Green Sun Chapter 14 Tailgate Party by Donna Lamb

.

The old man hadn't been kidding. Carson pulled the tiny excuse for panties on, wondering vaguely if those were really her legs, they seemed so long. But looking around the back of the truck, she felt small. It confused her. The panties settled in around her hips, the small opaque part presumably covering -- important things. She resisted an impulse to feel around in that area. It wasn't so much what she would find as what she wouldn't find that bothered her.

It wasn't as if she'd made any great use of the missing items, Hobie Carson had sometimes parlayed the romantic danger of flying a small plane into a night with someone. But oddly, the memories that should be there of encounters she knew had existed -- well, the ones that weren't just missing were oddly distorted. As if she saw her old self from outside, not as if her memories were second-hand but as if she remembered them from a different viewpoint.

Mangas distracted her from a rather alarming realization by handing her a tiny, lacy, pink bra. Well it wasn't all tiny -- the cups looked plenty big even if they were only half there. "I don't know how to wear this," she said. She pouted at him without knowing it, thinking that she had simply frowned.

"Use your imagination," said the old Indian, who wasn't so old as not to appreciate a pretty pout.

Making a face at him, Carson put it over her hair and pretended to tie the straps under her chin. Mangas puffed on his pipe, spilling spicy laughter out of the corner of his mouth. "Suit yourself," he said. "I hear the boys leaving the mine, they'll be here in two minutes."

The boys meant Bruce and Arthur, she remembered. Carson eeped! fiddled with the bra, slipped her arms through the shoulder straps and managed to get it hooked behind her in only two tries. "It doesn't fit!" she squeaked. It felt terribly uncomfortable, too.

Mangas puffed, grinning. "One of your puppies is hanging her tongue out the window," he said. The permanent twinkles in his dark eyes danced arabesques of amusement.

She quickly adjusted the fit, glaring at him. He seemed to be enjoying this reverse striptease a little too much.

"Dress or nightgown?" he asked. He held up a silky red dress in one hand and a tiny bit of pink froth in the other.

"Aren't there any pants in there?" She stared at the suitcase. "What if we open the big one?" The third and largest case hadn't been opened yet.

"If there were any pants, they would do little to restore your masculinity," he said. "Take the dress," he handed it over. "It's red but the other one is pink and the nightgowns are all transparent."

It was intensely, deeply red -- as red as shadows cast by the moon outside a bordello. With pink and white lace hearts at the sleeves and pink and white ribbons to tie around the waist. It felt soft and -- well, it felt very nice, in contrast to how it looked which was very naughty. "How do I...?"

"Pull it on over your head like a t-shirt.," said Mangas.

"A what?" She asked. Mangas mimed the motion he meant. She did so. It fell into place and seemed to mold itself to her curves. Looking down, she could just see the pink lace of her bra peeking over the edge of her neckline. The deep cleavage visible had a very odd effect on her -- in that she suddenly wanted to see what someone else thought of it. Wasn't it just too slutty? Or did it look, um, well.... She felt confused. Slutty was bad, right?

Again Mangas distracted her. She left the waist ribbons untied while she examined the pair of high-heeled sandals he passed her. They were red and white leather with red, white and pink heart decorations and more ribbons, to tie around the ankles, she supposed. "Nothing but high heels?" she asked.

Mangas nodded. "You'll probably find them more comfortable than flats, anyway."

She remembered suddenly being unable to run in the desert and falling over on distorted feet while the demons laughed. Now her feet looked normal, but somehow the high-heeled arch felt natural when she slipped into the sandals. She sighed, wondering if she'd be able to walk in them. "This stuff is like a costume," she complained.

"You look like a confection," agreed Mangas.

"Like a what?" she said. She puzzled out how to tie the ribbon laces of the shoes, making a pretty bow of them, then tried to scoot toward the tailgate.

"Like candy, sweet and delicious," said Mangas.

He looked entirely too sly for Carson's comfort. Those dark eyes.... "That's not good, is it?" she said, struggling with trying to keep her dress down while scooting on her new cushiony bottom. It felt very odd. "I don't want any one to eat me by mistake."

Mangas coughed and she giggled, amazed that she'd actually said something with such an obvious double meaning. And even more amazed that she had laughed at his reaction. She covered her confusion by pausing to straighten her skirt and tie the ribbons behind her back. A skill that may have been related to working with tiny engine parts surfaced and she could see in her mind how the bow behind her looked. She retied it twice before she felt completely satisfied.

She scooted the last foot of the truck bed, dangled her feet off the end and tried to lift her butt and pull her skirt back under her at the same time. It didn't work and she started to slip off the padded tailgate. "Eep!" she squealed.

Mangas caught her by one arm and kept her from falling down, setting her on her feet. He grinned at her, two of his upper back teeth were gold she noticed. She wobbled a bit but stood there after a moment, looking up at him. "Even with me in these heels, you're taller than me," she complained. "I feel like a little kid."

"No one else will make that mistake," he said, smiling down at her.

She sniffed, knowing exactly what he meant. "But I'm so short! How tall am I?"

"It's probably on your ID card, though it may not be accurate," said Mangas.

She turned, almost falling off the heels, and tried to reach the folder of ID papers where she'd left it on the blanket but it was well out of reach. Mangas retrieved it easily and handed it to her. She opened it and paged past the two glossy photos. She did want to look at them again and also had a sudden urge to see a mirror but she needed to look at something else just then. She stared at the identification papers. "What did you say your name was?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"Mangas. It's an old name that belonged to an ancestor of mine."

"Mangas," she said in a small voice. "These things aren't written in Russian or something? I can't read them." Her lip trembled and her voice had a shiver in it.

He nodded. "The Devil will have her due."

"What does that mean?" she asked. She remembered the bizarre pair who had found her in the desert and promised her rescue, but it all seemed a little dreamlike -- too outlandish for reality and clouded by something else.

"The Devil was ... coerced into undoing most of the damage she did to you, but she doesn't give up easily. Rodney didn't cover everything, no one can, so she left a few surprises. He forced her to give back enough of your memory that you would know yourself but she left some things still erased. There's a balance here, though, so you probably have a few gifts you're not aware of yet. And some things may come back."

"Who's Rodney? And what kind of gifts?" Carson glanced down at her chest. "These melon cups weren't enough? What am I some kind of bimbo, I can't read?" She sniffled. "It makes me feel stupid!"

"Rodney is sort of a Celestial caseworker assigned to you, a Guardian Angel you could call him."

"An Angel?" she squeaked. "Where was he when I was lost in the desert?" She felt her eyes begin to fill with tears.

Mangas took the pipe out of his mouth and tapped the dottle out on the ground. He blew through the pipe to clear it and put it back in his pocket while stepping on the dottle to be sure it was extinguished.

Carson sniffled again. "Aren't you going to say anything?" she asked. She closed the folder and started to throw it into the truck but he took it from her before she could.

"Did you expect me to say something?" he asked. "I'm still waiting to find out if you think it would be too girly to cry about it. Oh, the boys are here."

That did it.

continued...