Note to readers. Edited by Patricia Marie Allen
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?
 

I ended with two bras and a seamless panties pack. I opted for some nude color, but…

“When you will have something to show you may want to hide the support,” Lizbeth, the saleslady explained. “But now you have nothing. The bra is the only proof there is something.”

She’s an expert, not me. I never wore anything feminine before. This was the first time. Lizbeth tied the bottom of my tee into the knot. Thus my tee became skin tight and the scoop neck was even more open showing the top of black lace. And my midriff was showing. The overall feeling was new and something exciting.

The bra was the only thing I had to buy. We left after operation “Buy the first bra” was completed. I could spend more time in the mall. Especially that now people looked at me something different. And I liked it. But dad had to return to the hospital. So we left.

I skipped through the parking lot to dad’s car and was waiting for him to press the remote and unlock the door.

He grinned looking at me.

“What?” I asked.

“You look different,” he replied. “Like you but not exactly the same you.”

“Yeah… I know what you mean,” I agreed. “I feel quite the same as you say.”

He dropped me at home and was about to leave.

“Am I under house arrest yet?” I asked. “Can I meet friends? As I’m decent now?”

“Why not,” dad replied. “Don’t want to change into something different than this tee?”

“Sure,” I said.

Mom was still in bed. She will be till three or four. Then she would start vacuuming rooms and dusting shelves. If I would stay at home I’d got my share of cleaning too. Not that the house was a mess. It was rather her way to relax. Usually after a twenty-four-hour shift.

I called Steve. He was waiting for me in his garage. His job was always dirty. He was kinda blue-collar. While I was white. The collar I mean. Hands too.

I had a bra now. And I wanted to show off. Maybe a little only. I opted for a button-down shirt. Like flannel but it only looked like one. It was of fine material. Not mine. Like all other things, the shirt belonged to Tiff. So it was a girls’ shirt with buttons on the left. I didn’t button up. I tied its hem knotted.

For the bottom, I usually had denim cutoffs. As I was a girl today I choose Tiff’s denim short shorts. My ass wasn’t big enough to fill the shorts tight. But the look was better than cutoffs.

For the same “a girl now” reason I tied my hair in a high ponytail with a plain scrunchie. Atop I tied a ribbon of the same material as the shirt. It was intended to be tied around the waist. But I improvised differently.

Instead of two minutes, it took me about an hour to get ready. No make-up, just eyeliner. Another fifteen minutes later I was in Steve’s garage. His head was under the car’s hood.

I stood at his side and was waiting for him to straighten up to his full height. His wrench slipped off the nut and dropped down under the car.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Steve exclaimed. Then he noticed me and said, “Sorry. Who…”

Steve gaped at me for a while.

“Like it?” I inquired.

“Not bad,” he stated at last.

His stare was fixed on my bra. Or boobs. But there was nothing. And he had to know there was nothing. Only pimples. His words.

While talking with me he tried to look me in the eyes but his gaze, again and again, skidded to my boobs. Or to my legs. And then to midriff and boobs again. He didn’t touch me. But his stare was almost palpable. Like some insect crawling.

Steve always behaved this way in presence of other girls. Other girls…

I felt something creepy to be undressed by his eyes. At the same time, it was kinda exciting.

It didn’t last long. I mean Steve’s gaping at me.

We had a job to do. He continued what he was doing before. Cursing from time to time.

I had a new tablet to acquire to our needs. That was connecting it to my laptop through the universal port and enabling editing of functions. Not only EPROM’s error reset. It was complicated. Both computer and tablet had their own minds. I was cursing from time to time too. Probably more than Steve.

I thought I worked a couple of hours. Maybe three. It was dark when I got out of the garage.

“Shit!” I complained to Steve, “why didn’t you remind me it was late?”

“You were busy, I was busy…”

How did it happen mom didn’t call me? I checked my phone. Well, I wanted to check my phone. I hadn’t it. I wasn’t wearing regular cutoffs. Short shorts had tiny pockets but those were only decorations. No way to put a phone in a pocket like before. No place even for keys.

“I’m so dead,” I muttered. “Mom will kill me.”

“I’ll take you home,” Steve offered.

He had a car that was on go. Marlin. He, Marlin, was older than my dad. Once he was a luxury car. He wasn’t anymore. But he was on the go.

At home, rents were watching TV. I tried to slip past them to my room, but…

“Ronnie, come here” dad ordered.

“I know,” I tried my best to apologize, “I left my phone at home.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I found it after I tried to reach you.”

Mom and dad looked me up and down attentively.

“What’s with your eyes?” dad asked.

“Make-up,” mom said. “I didn’t expect for you to look so…”

“Hot,” dad finished.

“Such a girl,” mom shook her head, “from now on, young lady, your curfew is when the street lights come on.”

“For your safety, princess,” dad added.