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I woke up in strange surroundings looking at the walls in Jean Phillip’s bedroom. A king sized bed which we shared is cornered in a windowless wall. From my vantage point I can see her vanity straight ahead facing a door leading into the hall. A window is next to it adorned with a delicate light blue lace curtain. Her walls are bordered in a similar shade of blue paint. A private bath sits in the far right corner and on the left is a walk in closet. For a poor ‘Parker’ the girl does not have it that bad. My lust for this girl as recent as a few days ago fantasized about sleeping in the same bed. Here I am lying next to her. That alone would have been enough to produce a third leg. A third leg which I no longer have, life can be cruel. A brave man would touch her but not I. I am afraid to discover what I might find. Recent events have brought impossible changes to me.

Those changes both highly desired and feared keep me frozen under the sheet. I watch Jean rushing toward the shower wearing dark blue pajamas yelling, “Beat you,” causing my giggle. It is at that moment I realize how lucky I am to be her friend all lustful ideas are gone. Jean is a girl who I love as a friend. A girl I wish desperately could turn into the old me.

My legs dangle off the bed toes curling against a supple carpet. I am squeezing them into the hooked fabric loops that form an intricate carpet design. A thick pile feels warm against my skin. Wearing Jean’s sleep shirt enjoying a sensual silky envelope, I stare down at my slender fingers musing how feminine tapered nails appear. I muse absently about how delicate nails on fingers and toes need a coat of color. Dare I request to borrow polish from Jean, does the girl posses such a product? I have never seen her nails colored unless you count smudges of grease acquired at her father’s garage.

Finally I hear the water shut off happy to have a chance at a shower myself. I feel rather sticky after a night under a down comforter. When Jean rolled over brushing against my back, especially when her arm flew over my shoulder I felt my temperature rise. Yes, I need a shower and I need to check these breasts forms. Like an idiot I wore them to bed. Jean teased me shamelessly for not removing them. I lacked the courage to tell her I tried but the adhesive remover failed to loosen their vice like grip. It is the same solution I’ve used before when my parents pressed me into one of their schemes. This is the first time the solution failed.

Jean exits the bathroom wearing her Wranglers and tee with brush in her hand. She offers a soft, “It’s all yours Andréa, or should I call you Jean? I may as well we can’t have a slip up at school today.” Without waiting for an answer she begins playing with her hair at the vanity. I grab my skirt, undies and blouse closing the shower door behind me.

The hot water feels great washing away night’s perspiration. I palm my busts which are resistant against yielding. The medical glue holds tight allowing no give at all. The sensitive feel of hot water against the plastic skin presents an odd sensation causing near panic. I swear my nipples have become rigid while areolas are more prominent. Wait until Jean sees these. No, I cringe inward this will remain my secret. When the soapy washcloth is drawn across my shallow depression another sensual arousal flashes causing a tremor. Then the voice returns using a purring sound, ‘My little virgin is nearly primed for tomorrow night. Your boyfriend anxiously awaits you.’

I wanted to scream shut up in my panic while jumping out of the shower. Frantically I toweled off dressing as fast as I could while running to the bedroom. Jean tilted her head in my direction with a smile. She tossed a small bottle filled with pink liquid at me. “I have been saving this you look like you could use it. Don’t forget to blow on your nails to let them dry.”

The mirror startles me as I look into it. Who is this girl staring back at me? Jean is leaning over my shoulder kibitzing, “You make a better me than I do. The problem is when you go back to Andrew they are going to expect I keep up your new look. I don’t think I can handle that. I might just end up hating you Lyons.”

“Jean quit your bitching you might get what you wish for if you use that ticket of mine this weekend. Then you can walk around as a smelly guy living alone in my old apartment dealing with the welfare.” That caused her to blink so I pressed. “Second thoughts huh, being a girl is not so bad.”

She tilted her head offering a wry smile, “It’s fine with me you wear the skirts you like them so much. And Lyons,” she glances down tossing a Lady Gillette at me. “You better shave those legs. I can’t have people whispering the Phillips wench is lax with her grooming. Don’t forget the pits, welcome to girlhood. It is too bad you cannot experience the monthly visitor before it becomes permanent. That will drive you far away.” Her sarcastic cackle almost convinced me I’d made a mistake. Come to think about it what mistake is that? I only snuck into a resort with an invitation. It is not like I engineered these changes.

I sat at the vanity for the next half hour trying to avoid skinning myself. Blood only trickled down my calf once or twice. Jean is having the time of her life grinning. I’ll give her credit not once did she laugh. She did not have to her eyes betrayed delight at my difficulty. I almost said misery but held that in check when I stood seeing my reflection. “Phillips it is worth it, look at these legs.” I twirled in a slow dramatic fashion allowing my skirt to flutter showing off spectacular legs.

Jean shrugged sticking a ball cap on her head. “No shaving, no blowing on my fingers, no raccoon eyes when a princess insults me. No hair showing through my jeans and my pits are covered. I can live with it. Let’s go babe we don’t want to be late.”

I woke up nearly exhausted from a restless nights sleep or lack of sleep. The thought of Andrew Lyons sleeping next to me one week ago would have caused a five alarm fire with me shrieking, “Are you nuts.” at the top of my lungs. I rush toward the shower wearing dark blue pajamas yelling, “Beat you,” giggling at Andi’s expression. It is at that moment I realize how lucky I am to have made peace with my stalker discovering he is a fragile girl. I like Andréa as a friend nothing more than that. If I were a guy Andi is the girl I could go for.

Just as I reached for the shower door handle I noticed Andi. Her legs are dangling off the bed toes curling against the carpet. Wearing my sexy nylon sleep shirt she looks adorable. ‘Oh my God.’ I suddenly see an outline of perky breasts against the fabric. She did not wear a bra and those nipples are rigid almost poking through. Andi looks incredibly sexy. Why is she staring at her nails and how did they get so perfectly shaped? Did she go to a salon? I doubt it. I closed the door promising myself to loan her my year old bottle of polish. I wonder should if I should offer lipstick as well? No I think the nail polish is pushing it far enough. Another thought just crossed my mind that I will keep to myself.

I showered rather quickly toweling off then combed my hair trying my best to flavor it toward the way Andrew has worn it over the year. Satisfied my hair is as close as I can get I throw on a beefy tee and start to pull up my jeans when it hits. The curse is back meaning another bout with the plug and more cleaning. Once my tee is finally tucked into my jeans I exit the shower yelling, “It’s all yours Andréa, or should I call you Jean? I may as well we can’t have a slip up at school today.”

When I enter the bedroom Andi has bundled her clothes under her arms while walking toward the shower. I stare at her oddly dying to ask why she is still wearing those breasts forms. She must really enjoy girly bits. It not like she can feel anything more than their weight. I sit at the vanity hearing that voice one more time. “The little vir—” I cut sharply by blocking my thoughts focusing elsewhere. I don’t want to hear anymore of this crap wherever it is coming from. I am ready when Andi exits the shower.

I stand pointing to the vanity tossing a bottle of nail pick polish liquid at Andi. “I have been saving this you look like you could use it. Don’t forget to blow on your nails to let them dry.” Andi gazes into the mirror as if she is shocked at how beautiful she looks. I peer over her shoulder joking, “You make a better me than I do. The problem is when you go back to being Andrew they are going to expect I keep up your new look. I don’t think I can handle that. I might just end up hating you Lyons.”

Andréa scolds me, “Jean quit your bitching you might get what you wish for if you use that ticket of mine this weekend. Then what, you walk around as a smelly guy living alone in my old apartment dealing with the welfare?” I blinked hearing that and she continued. “Second thoughts huh, being a girl is not so bad.”

I’m not letting my sister get in the last word. Offering a wry smile I quip, “It’s fine with me you wear the skirts you like them so much. And Lyons,” I pick up my razor a Lady Gillette tossing it at Andi. “You better shave those legs. I can’t have people whispering that the Phillips wench is lax on her grooming. Don’t forget the pits, welcome to girlhood. It is too bad you cannot experience the monthly visitor before it becomes permanent.” Then I offered a dramatic cackle to suggest Lyons is missing the point. Yes, a beautiful girl can be at the top of the food chain that does not mean it is a good thing. The higher you get the bigger the target you become. You should not have to guess after reading this far why I’m hiding me.

I watched Andréa at the vanity for the next half hour daintily trying to avoid gashes. Blood only trickled down her calf once or twice. I try not to but cannot avoid grinning. In spite of what Andi may think I did not enjoy her difficulty. My sister has to defend her position so I fired off, “Phillips it is worth it, look at these legs.” She twirled in an exaggerated fashion flaunting her spectacular legs with a sexy skirt swirling around.

With a dismissive shrug I put my ball cap on replying, “No shaving, no blowing on my fingers, no raccoon eyes when a princess insults me. No hair showing through my jeans and my pits are covered. I can live with it. Let’s go babe we don’t want to be late.”

The first hurdle is getting past mom I doubt she will like me wearing this ball cap but I do not want her seeing my hair. Mom is in the kitchen drinking coffee as I grab the door handle, “Jean you should eat breakfast.”

“No time mom we are going to be late. Andréa is too much of a girl she needs to get up at least an hour earlier.”

“Jean that is not very nice to tease your friend like that. Andréa let me get a look at you.” Lyons stops giving me an apologetic look. She shrugs while I look on from the porch. Mom cannot resist, “You look lovely my dear. Promise me you will come home with Jean to have dinner and spend the night.” Andi promised and caught me on the front lawn.

I’m reaching for the passenger door when she grabs me by the arm sticking her keys in my hands. “You are Andrew today did you forget this is your car? No way the guy is letting his chick drive.”

Ouch, I shrug unlocking the door and sliding in. At least I don’t have to adjust anything to operate the vehicle or use the mirrors. “God missy you have that skirt smoothing thing down pat. It’s like you’ve been doing that all your life.” Andréa remains silent throwing a nasty grin in my direction. I am beginning to dread trying to fake my way through the day as Andrew Lyons. It should not be that difficult as he is virtually ignored by everyone. The real issue concerning me is how will Andi pull off being me. The idea she is coming out as a girl, a beautiful one at that is frightening. I have not dressed like she is in four years. They are going to notice. That voice returned, ‘don’t worry bitch she will only give head. The new girl’s cherry will be yours tomorrow.’ I nearly screamed ordering the thing to shut up as my foot hit the brake.

“Christ, Phillips what the hell are you doing?” Andréa demands as her hands splay against the dash. I pull over to the curb while cars behind are honking. I swore I heard a number of obscenities when they passed. “I’m sorry Andi I heard something that scared me are you okay?”

“You heard something like voices in your head? Don’t tell me; please don’t tell me you are hearing voices like I am.”

The fear in her eyes shook me as I threw myself wrapping her into my arms. “What is happening?”

Allow me to introduce myself dear reader I have been silent far to long. You have the author to thank for that. Rather than call upon a professional this writer allows her characters to tell their own stories. To be fair I must inform you I read the prologue taking offense at the author’s disparaging remarks. I will quote her, “The narrator expresses his distaste of being forced to participate by reading this story.” I am sure Sarah will delete this before publishing the story. Yes the writer’s name is Sarah which is a lot prettier than that stupid pseudonym she uses. Never mind as a professional I will do my job without complaining.

There are several points needing to be addressed. One is who are the Renovators and what is the Sanctuary House? The author has spent far too much time developing characters. Yes, yes I know character building in an important feature required in story telling. The problem is when one is dealing with Demons, possessions and violence no one cares about characters. They are merely fodder as in all horror stories they are nothing but grain for the grist mill. The important role of characters in these kinds of stories is they are presented accurately as bimbos being chased around in their underwear by creatures who devour them. Instead the author focuses on building them up so you will like them. That is not suppose to happen it only serves to piss readers off when characters they like get chopped up. Seriously can you believe a teenage girl and a girl wanna be could possibly defeat the forces of evil?

Where were we? Oh yes in the atrium of the Sanctuary house where Yuri Beekman is discussing current business with Helmut Belagosi. Yuri is the supervising Renovator for this area while Belagosi is the man in charge of operations. The Renovators are a team assigned by the Boss to round up Demons during this the season of highest activity. There is still time to explain the high season. Rest assured your narrator is ever vigilant and will describe those reasons when the time is proper.

Sanctuary House is a setup designed to attract demons because it appears to be one of those lovely establishments seen in your typical Hollywood B movie. “Bella please update me on the number of demons your team has captured. This has been a particularly difficult season. The other houses report increased activity with many devious acts committed by the Trickster’s followers. We have been after him for decades. He always manages to slip through our hands.”

The haggard assistant appears to have a strong resemblance to a demon himself. Lowering his brows he appears seemingly happy about his results. “Sir we have eight without success locating the Trickster himself. It is rumored he is in the area targeting some humans for a devious scheme. The word is he plans to give the world another human/demon hybrid.”

“What about your invitations have you had any success in that regard? Often we pull in a sizable number of demons.”

Bella smiles, “Yes sir we picked off five they are awaiting purification in the pens as we speak. The Sanctuary House is set up as a hideaway so to speak offering lavish fantasy getaways. We sent out spam mail invitations knowing the Trickster is an avid hacker. We are aware the demon will check out our buildings finding them ideal for his pranks. As expected his followers descended into trap thinking they will find ready victims. As no real people received an invitation our agents posed as marks. When the demons swept down they were easy prey. There is one exception, a boy named Andrew Lyons received an invitation and he showed up.”

Beekman narrows his brows, “You turned him away I trust.”
“No sir, he never showed a pretty young girl came in his stead. Her name is Andréa Judd. We thought she was one of your agents incognito so we admitted her. It turns out that was Andrew disguised as a girl. The system scans each invitee enhancing their physical attributes. It helps sell our misdirection of a fantasy weekend. Those demons are short on intellect. This trick fools them every time. In young mister Lyons case he is turning into an improved Andréa. The problem is the Trickster never appeared and has disappeared.”

“My dear Bella have you figured out yet this Andrew or Andréa is now a target? I suggest your agents be employed to search the kid out? The child is the Trickster’s perfect target. Need I remind you of his favorite game?”

There is little more your narrator can offer you at this time. The author is insisting I take my leave for now allowing our silly children to fumble their way through. At least we know the Demon hunters are on the job having made a muck of it as usual to this point. You know what happens to the exorcists types in these stories. The demons are only slowed to return again and again while the exorcists are less fortunate. A bit later your professional narrator will explain more of the adventure to you once the author comes to her senses. For now the blood and gore will have to wait as we must learn more about silly teens. We go back to the side of the road where that Jean child is hearing voices.

It took me quite awhile to calm Jean down as the poor girl literally lost it in the car. I can tell you wrapping my arms around a shaken Jean Phillips has been a life long dream. Whoever caused this thanks, you did me a favor. From now on keep your mouth shut. Jean managed to regain control and get us to the school parking lot in one piece. Now she has to get out of the car without freaking. I whisper in her ear, “Remember you are Andrew. Walk with your head down and never, ever make eye contact with anyone. They all hate you. Do you have any advice for me?”

She looks at me with her beautiful emerald eyes. Removing her ball cap she tosses it on the seat. “The nuns are not going to let my hat in the building.” She shakes her head allowing her gunk plastered hair to settle into a reasonable facsimile of what mine usually looks like. Finally, answering my question she quips, “Too late Lyons you already screwed up. Jean Phillips never showed up in this building looking like a starlet before. Every head in school will be measuring you. The guys will walk into lockers and the chicks will be glaring darts at you. The best you can do is keep your head down. When the guys chat you up remember you are prey and they are gaming you for one reason. Have you got it? See you in class and stay close.”

I don’t know what upset me the most, the whistles or the darts. I have to say showing up like this certainly gets attention. The whispers intended just loud enough for me to hear sounded like, “I want a piece of that” and “Is that the ‘Parker?” So now I know why Jean has a permanent bad attitude. I also discovered why my staring at her is so annoying. Now I’m getting the treatment. To whoever made that comment try walking a mile in my shoes. Well sir I get it.

The highlight of the day one that Andrew Lyons dreamed about came at lunch. I’m sitting at the reserved Phillips’ table in the corner when Nathan Brown one of the hunks stops. He smiles flashing his recent dental hygienist effort the white radiating a brilliant light. “Jean care to go to the Halloween dance with me?” I have no time to answer because the faux Andrew plops down next to me in a never before used seat. He leans over kissing me full on the lips and turns to Nathan. “Sorry guy, Jean is my steady, right babe?”

My first reaction is to smack him but I’m interrupted by the crashing sound of Heather’s tray falling to the floor. By then it had suddenly dawned on me a pretty girl needs a protector. Jean can take care of herself but a steady boyfriend keeps the sharks at bay. I kissed the real Jean in return whispering, “Thanks.” That was just in time to catch a warning stare from Sister Igor.

On the way out to the car after school I’m walking with the faux Andrew who is carrying my books. I am beginning to like this gig. Having a boyfriend who jumps at my every need is cool. Being a pretty girl is a good thing. I don’t care what Jean says about spitting out kids. That picture does have a disgusting aura to it but having the kid planted, wow that part sounds way too cool.

I get in the car sitting in the chick’s seat having fun smoothing my skirt making sure a bit more leg shows than should be. Jean gives me that nasty look. “We are a hussy now huh ‘Parker’?” I lean over giving her a kiss. “If it bothers you so much why is your hand on my thigh?” Jean flushes shifting the car into gear.

“Don’t wet your panties ‘Parker’ I though I had the stick shift.”

I cannot resist laughing as the new Andrew pulls into traffic. “Say what you mean, I though I had the stick shift means I wish I have a stiff stick.” That is when she poked me and warned if she had one I’d be in trouble. I have this feeling I am in trouble anyway. The voice returned threatening me with all kinds of mayhem. I am glad Jean’s mom invited me to spend the night. There is no way I could hold out at my house alone. Okay so tonight is not Halloween, it is Cabbage Night which is almost as ugly. I am still kicking my ass for opening that spam mail. Worse yet I am risking Jean’s life with my bullshit. Like a girl I started crying. Jean asked me what is wrong and I said as expected, “Nothing.”

The new Jean and I no sooner entered the hallowed halls going to our lockers when I got my first lesson of life as Andrew Lyons. We had walked to our metal closets. They are across from each other on opposite sides of the hall. I stood there for a moment watching the reaction to the new Jean. God she is truly beautiful. I can see why I refused to parade around looking all girly. The guys were literally tripping over each other trying to get a better look. No one said ‘Parker’ out loud. As I turned to open my locker from the corner I could Dale Simpson coming at me. I knew at once what was coming. It is the old Philadelphia Flyer bully boy’s hip check. Oh yeah what was the guy’s name, Schultz that’s it. The big hairy muscle bound guy was mean as a bull in heat. He comes flying down the hall at full speed his hockey stick high.

I could see in my mind’s eye the poor puck carrier getting smashed against the board falling into a crumpled mass. That happens right after your face is mashed into the glass. Unfortunately for Schultz I side stepped and he hit the locker full speed. The crash echoed through the hall as the locker door caved. Poor Schultz hit the floor bleeding from his nose. He did not lay there for long because Sister Igor is on patrol. She lifted him by the ears. As she dragged him off she is heard saying. “Nice moves Mr. Lyons. I saw the whole thing.”

My partner standing against the other wall is laughing hysterically. She walked over taking my hand and we strolled like dreamers in love to class. None of the teachers said a thing to me accepting the quiet Andrew as the norm. It took away a lot of the pressure. I’m sure sister George must have had a trying day. Every time she turned to catch me staring at Jean I was looking at the chalk board, besides everybody else is staring at jean.

I’m having a hard time not laughing when Lyons dressed up as me is complaining. “I don’t know what upset me the most, the whistles or the darts. I have to say showing up like this certainly gets attention. The whispers intended just loud enough for me to hear sounded like, I want a piece of that” and “Is that the ‘Parker?”

My reaction is to reply, “So now I know why you have a permanent bad attitude.” I quieted after that keeping my mouth shut choosing to not talk about my day as Andrew. We can compare notes later.

The Nathan Brown thing was funny. Andrew pretending he is me is sitting at my reject table when the misguided fellow raises enough courage to say the words. “Jean care to go to the Halloween dance with me?” That little bastard actually stood outside the Warehouse Outlet playing with his crotch offering it to me while I stood on the ladder in the window. Now he is asking who he thinks is me out for a date. It is really you son of a bitch. If you have not figured out by now I am one feisty piece of work this should convince you.

I drop into the seat next to my honey and kiss her right on the lips. “Sorry Nate but Jean here is my steady.” The look in his eyes is priceless. Then I kiss her again which is a mistake because I wet my panties. I will never, ever tell Andrew this; the look on the fake Jean’s face is priceless. It is worth the stare from Sister Igor. I noted Jean’s expression as well. Just like mine it read hunger.

When we got back to the car my view is slightly different than the old Andrew’s. You might say it is beyond weird for me to look at her hem rise revealing those beautiful thighs and feeling wetness in my panties. Especially since in reality I am looking at my own legs. I’ve spent a lifetime looking at, shaving, washing and pampering those legs. How in hell can they be turning me on?

The incident sparking my sexual arousal is when I get in the car sitting in the driver’s seat. Her act of smoothing the skirt making sure a bit more leg shows than should be is obvious. That is exactly what I’d do if I were troweling. Being an instigator I quip, “We are a hussy now huh ‘Parker’?” She leans over giving me a kiss. “If it bothers you so much why is your hand on my thigh?” I flush shifting the car into gear.

“Don’t wet your panties ‘Parker’ I though I had the stick shift.” My reply is lame but I’m on the defensive. The kiss is still on my mind I can’t get enough of those lips and if I could I guarantee you I’d have an erection. The voice from hell suddenly appeared, ‘Don’t let it bother you. Tomorrow she will be yours.’ Again I almost hit the break offering, ‘Fuck you loser.’

My friend Andrew sitting in the chicks seat is going on about the stick shift. I did not hear much of what she said being focused on that voice. I know it is evil and before tomorrow night is over I’m going to have to kick it’s ass. When Andrew as Jean started crying I knew any rational conversation ended so I simply said “No.” I’m not sure what I said no to but you have to remember I’m faking being a guy. We always claim guy’s don’t listen I’m just proving we girls are right.

I sat in my driveway while Andréa fidgets with her skirt passing questioning glances at me. I suppose she wonders why I sit here with a glazed expression. I am staring at my modest sized house. It is a Cape Cod style with two bay windows one on each end. The living room on my left while behind the right bay window is my parent’s room. My bedroom is in the back and I do not have one of those protruding windows. I shrug terrified I am going to lose all of this. True I’ve wanted to be a boy for sometime but as I strain I cannot recall when these thoughts had begun. Andréa broke my concentration, “Jean are we going to sit here or what?”

We ate dinner with mom and dad. I can’t recall what it was as my mind is elsewhere. All day long this intense feeling of gloom hung over me. It is like in those fantasy movies where people can see your aura. If mine were to appear it would show as a black shroud. There is something out there watching us, it is pure evil. Why in the hell, not a good choice of words, am I so calm? It is not fatalism like I know I am going to die or something like that. The calm is from a sense I have that I’m in charge. This voice is pure evil that I know but it can’t hurt me unless I let it. I’m not going to do that. Somehow I am confident I can beat this thing. My gut tells me all these implanted ideas are to establish fear. The entity feeds on fear and if he does not get it he grows weaker. Okay that makes sense so don’t show him how scared shitless I am. Now there is a plan.

Mom tried to recruit us to an evening of chat and television viewing. I’m not into that strategizing is on the menu for tonight. We begged out of it using the excuse of homework. We have a lot of homework which always buys me private time. Andréa and I will hang out in my room. We need to scarf up some threads for Andréa if she is going to play me tomorrow. I am going to work on convincing the girl she needs to wear jeans. I hoped she learned a lesson today about the power of skirts. You have to wield it only at crucial moments. Moments like the times you are troweling.

Andi is simply eating up the compliments from mom and dad. She looked long and hard at me with a shit eating grin when mom suggested she talk me into dressing nicer. I could see dad gulp. He is on my side preferring his girl in jeans. The pressure only comes from one side. Divide and conquer so they say. I have learned to shut off the voice. At least I think I have and I suspect sooner than later I will be testing my theory.

We girls are pressed into service helping mom with cleanup including of course the dishes. Andréa and mom seem to becoming best friends. My observation or imagining of this notion rises a bit of jealousy. Before we escaped to the confines of my room for the dreaded homework I used the time convincing mom Andréa should stay through the weekend. I’m terrified of what will happen to her if she is allowed to stay at her house alone.

It was not a hard sell proving much easier than talking Andréa out of skirts for tomorrow. “Didn’t you get enough leers for one day?”

“Jean I like being a girl even if it isn’t real. Let me milk this for one more day. Tomorrow is Halloween we are supposed to dress up in costume.”

Why do I get the feeling she is trying to take over my life? I do not say any more deciding to go along with it for one more day. After what seemed hours of trashing my closet I finally got her to agree on something. Andréa looked simply smashing in a modest outfit. She accepted my insistence on a heather colored simple pleated wool skirt reaching her knees. The cream colored oxford blouse fit perfectly. She bitched a bit about the white knee socks and black flats. My final comment on the subject settled her. “Andi I know looking good and attention is something you crave. As you found out today we girls are surrounded by assholes and idiots. You have to play defense at all times.”

With that I donned my flannel pajamas and she another sexy sleep shirt. We hugged and then crashed for what hopefully will be a night of blissful sleep.

Next Chapter 6 Andréa: Halloween Not Just Another Day