Plus-One With A Vengeance : 13 / 29

[ An Altered Fates Story ]
by Iolanthe Portmanteaux

 

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"It was a strange trick, being someone else.
Undercover was only half about remembering who you were supposed to be;
it was mainly about forgetting who you were."
— Mick Herron, Nobody Walks

---

 

Melissa arrived in a matter of minutes. She was glowing, brimming over with excitement, like a child on Christmas morning.

Speaking of Christmas, her eyes lit up when she happened to glance at the recycling trash and spotted the gold wrapping paper. "The present from Max?" she asked. Her eagerness kicked up a notch.

Her spirits fell abruptly when I showed her the all-in-one cooker. "I was hoping for something more... significant," she pouted.

"I told you what it was when we spoke on the phone," I reminded her. Her expression resembled nothing so much as a cute, disappointed child. It was hard to hold down the smile that kept playing on my lips.

"Okay," she acknowledged. "Enough of that. Let's get going! We're burning daylight!"

"Hold on, Melissa. We can't go yet. I haven't been able to get in touch with Vivianne."

In an instant, Melissa snatched her phone from her bag and hit Vivianne's contact. After a series of rings, I heard Mr Errison's jovial voice on the other end, giving Melissa the same information he'd given me, along with the same silly jokes. She broke the connection and frowned, frustrated.

"I heard," I told her. "He said the same thing to me when I called. But you know, I still need to pack."

"Pack what?" she demanded. "What could you possibly have to pack? You're going to need everything new! You can throw away all of your Elliot clothes!"

I wasn't about to burn my clothing bridge. My clothes were my only way back to being Elliot, as far as I knew. I've got to keep at least one set of clean "Elliot" clothes, I told myself, for after the wedding. I wasn't going to tell her that, though! Aloud I told her, "Toothbrush, toothpaste, laptop, phone charger... and one or two sentimental items, things from my parents."

"Oh, right. Sorry." After a moment she added, "I got you a new toothbrush. And a hairbrush. And a few other necessaries."

"Oh, thanks," I said. "I also need to leave a note for Max."

Her eyes lit up at that.

"Why not send a text?" Her eyes opened even wider. "Why not send a video — of you, changing into Lorelei!"

"No," I said, decisive as stone. "That could freak him out — maybe even permanently. I'm going to stick a simple note on the fridge that says, I went to see your aunt."

She huffed impatiently. "You could at least send a photo. Not a before photo — he knows what Elliot looks like. You need to send an after photo. Of Lorelei."

"No photos," I said. "No texts. No warnings or teases. If I let Max know what's up, he might try to stop me. He could call me and talk me out of it. He might call Vivianne and somehow convince her not to change me."

"So, you tell him after," Melissa said. "That's what I've been saying."

"I think we need to move very slowly," I cautioned her. "I don't want to throw this in his face. Let's let it develop naturally."

Melissa sighed. "No, you're wrong! All he has to do is see you, and then bam!"

"Bam?"

Melissa made an isn't it obvious? gesture and said, "He'll fall in love!"

I groaned and shook my head. Struck by a sudden burst of enthusiasm, she grabbed me and squeezed me like a lemon while she squealed like a little girl.

 

---

 

I managed to hit on an activity that kept Melissa both distracted and occupied at the same time: we prepared tonight's dinner for Max. She showed me her recipe for sausage, peppers, and onions (one of Max's favorites). We also prepared zucchini noodles with pesto, and oven-roasted vegetables.

After we'd sampled our work, Vivianne called. She said she could see us at four.

"Before you come, I suggest that you call your credit-card company and have them send you a card for Lorelei Gight on your account. Also, add that name to your bank account."

"Isn't that illegal?" I asked.

"Certainly not. You could add Herbert Hoover to your bank account if you wanted, as long as it wasn't for purposes of fraud. The bank will prepare a signature card that you can sign once you're Lorelei."

We spoke briefly about my getting a social security number and a state ID — "You won't have time to get a driver's license, unless you intend on remaining Lorelei long term."

"Long term," I repeated.

"I mean, forever," Viv clarified.

"Uh," was all I could say, but Melissa, who could hear everything, squeezed my arm with every ounce of her strength.

After I hung up, I told her, "You're going to have to lighten up on the squeezing, or I'll be black and blue all over."

"Sorry!" she exclaimed. "I'm just so EXCITED!"

 

---

 

I called my credit-card company, and stopped in at my bank. Neither expressed any surprise at my request to add Lorelei; it was all very matter-of-fact for them, and both transactions were very brief.

The visit with Vivianne was also brief; her mind was clearly elsewhere. She didn't rush things, and nothing was forgotten, but you could see that, for her, this wasn't the once-in-a-lifetime experience that it was for Melissa and me.

I've already described the transformation process, so I won't repeat myself. It was, of course, less shocking and surprising than the first time — although equally astonishing. It's amazing that such a thing can happen at all. The three of us had already seen the endpoint of the process; when I emerged at the end as Lorelei, it was like seeing the return of an old friend. At the same time, I felt an enormous sense of relief, as though a weight had fallen from my shoulders. Why did I feel relieved? I guess that now, when I'd finally made up my mind, finally taken the step, I was able to quit agonizing over it. It was done; I was at peace.

It reminded me in a flash of the moment in Pilgrim's Progress where the burden that Christian had been lugging everywhere, and complaining about to everyone, finally lets go, rolls off, and drops into a hole, never to be seen again.

Melissa managed to contain herself, and squeezed her left hand with her right, rather than squeezing me.

Vivianne picked up all the "Lorelei" clothes, one by one, as if taking inventory. "We've done everything, haven't we? Dress, shoes, bathing suit... there's nothing else, is there?"

"Nothing," I confirmed, turning this way and that in the mirror.

She opened a drawer and pulled out a manila envelope. "Here is your birth certificate," she said. "With this you can get a social-security card and a state ID, and eventually a drivers license and passport, if you want one."

I looked it over. "So, I'm twenty-seven," I observed.

"It's a nice age to be," Viv observed. "Make sure you memorize your birthdate." She placed the medallion back in its case, and dropped the necklace case in her bag. "My apologies," she said, "I'm needed elsewhere, but I think you two can get along without me, at this point."

I thanked her, I thought profusely, but Melissa outdid me.

"Just one thing," Vivianne warned, "Don't go hog-wild with your sexual experiences! If you really and truly want to turn back to your old self after the wedding, you must NOT get pregnant. Remember that."

"I'll remember," I promised, but Melissa whispered, "Fingers crossed!" and grinned. I could see grand-babies written all over her face.

 

---

 

The next few hours were interesting and fun to me, but I'm not going to bore you with the blow-by-blow. A few details will do:

To keep herself from climbing the walls in anticipation, Melissa had already bought a few necessaries for Lorelei: she'd already told me about a hairbrush and other toiletries, but her preparations went well beyond that. She picked up a cute peach-colored t-shirt dress and some low-heeled sandals, pale green pajamas, a set of oversized shorts and a tank top ("for lounging"), and lipstick and mascara. She assured me that it was a "super effort" to not buy more, "but we need to ease into this, don't we?"

She'd also prepared a guest room at her house for me to stay. We agreed that it would be easier for Max to accept Lorelei if she wasn't just dumped on him. He had to choose Lorelei, or at least feel that he had. ("Men often don't know what's best for them," was Melissa's comment. "You'll see!")

She surprised me by NOT wanting to shop for clothes and such right away. I didn't realize until later that she'd already been studying, shopping both online and in person, and above all deciding what looks would work best for me.

She introduced me to Max's father, Paul. Of course, I'd met him many times as Elliot, growing up, but he seemed a different person meeting him now as Lorelei. I could see the family resemblance between him and his sister (Vivianne), but unlike her, he was not intimidating. Paul was fatherly, kind, strong, good-looking. He noticed the resemblance between me (Lorelei) and Elliot, and over the time I spent at their house, Paul regaled me with stories about Max and me (Elliot me). I knew all the incidents, but it was curious, hearing them from the perspective of an observant adult.

The three of us had dinner at a small white cast-iron table on their patio, a spot that featured a panoramic view of their pool and their deep back yard. A massive oak stood in a far corner, and dogwoods in a line in the distance. It was peaceful and lovely. It was all familiar to me, but I'd never taken in their beauty before.

My eye kept drifting toward the pool. I spent a lot time there as a kid — Max and I would pass entire days, it seemed, floating, swimming, goofing, in that pool.

Paul, who'd been explaining and describing the virtues and issues of their various trees, finally noticed where my eye was going.

"Do you like to swim, Lorelei?" he asked. "While you're here, please feel free to avail yourself of the pool! Any time. It'll be nice to see someone putting it to use; getting some enjoyment out of it." He turned to face me, and smiled the same charming smile I've seen on Max's face. I couldn't help but smile in reply. Then he asked me, "Did you bring a bathing suit?"

Melissa sat up a little straighter during this part of Paul's exposition, and she gave him a subtle cautionary glance.

"Yes, um, I do have a bathing suit."

"Excellent," he acknowledged, speaking more into his wine glass than to me.

 

---

 

The next morning I woke early. Not spontaneously. I wasn't woken by the sun. It was Paul, making an incredible racket. All he did was get dressed and ready for work, but for him that involved a lot of banging and walking up and down stairs in his big, loud shoes.

Once the noise subsided, ending with the bang of the front door and the roar of his car leaving, I came out of my room and padded barefoot into the kitchen, I found Melissa, her hair tossed and tousled. She smiled at me. "Oh, did he wake you up, too? Paul is a dear, but he can't get ready in the morning without making enough noise to wake the dead!"

I stretched and yawned, nodding my head. Melissa's smile widened. "You're just adorable! Do you realize that?"

"Okay," I said. She must have told me two dozen times or more. "I'm adorable," I repeated, and yawned again.

"Awww!" Melissa cooed. "Come here! Come here, you little thing," and she hugged me. A normal hug, thank God. Not one of her squeeze-all-the-air-out hugs like before.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, playing with my hair. I was beginning to feel like Melissa's doll. My cheeks reddened slightly.

"Not yet. I still need to wake up."

"Tell you what," Melissa offered. "Why don't you jump in the pool and get in a nice morning swim? While you do that, I'll prepare us a lovely breakfast. We can eat it on the patio and plan our day. I'll call you when it's ready."

"Okay," I said, smiling. "Sounds great."

"Go! Get your suit on, then. Go! Off you scamper!"

I didn't exactly scamper, but I was pretty quick in getting out of my pajamas and pulling my bathing suit on.

The moment of seeing that gap between my legs — I wondered how long it would take me to get used to that gone-ness, to having nothing there. Well, not nothing, but not the gear I was used to have hanging there. I have to admit, I did like the change. It seemed a vast improvement. What sense did it make to have one's testicles hanging so inconveniently, so vulnerably there?

Then the new feeling of pulling that tight, stretchy fabric over my new curves, over my butt and breasts. I wondered, as I threaded my arms though the openings, whether this suit was too tight — impossible, considering how the medallion worked — but still... once I had it on, though, the tightness became its virtue. The suit became a second skin, a cool, flashy second skin. I felt like Wonder Woman, once I had it on.

I thought to run the hairbrush quickly through my hair, but right away hit a tangle. I tried a different spot, and hit another tangle. Oh well! Tangles later! Pool now!

A few minutes later I dove into the cool, clean water. The sensation of the flow coursing over my brand-new body was beyond amazing. It was a dream. The world was not awake yet; the sun had yet to rise above the trees. The only sounds were the chirps and tweets of birds, and the swish of the breeze in the trees.

As it turned out, I still knew how to swim, in spite of changing bodies, And I still loved it. I took some laps, studying, feeling, evaluating the differences I felt in my new physique. I wasn't as strong, but I didn't seem any slower. I certainly felt more buoyant; I didn't need to kick as much to keep my hips up. I propelled myself to the bottom in the deep end, and pushed off with my toes. That feeling, when your face breaks free of the water, into the air — there's nothing like it. There are so many wonderful sensations you can only achieve in the water. Another is pushing off the wall and gliding. I went back and forth, side to side, twisting like a slow corkscrew. I was in my element.

To finish off, I dove in at the far end, the end away from the house, and swam underwater. Could I reach the other end without coming up for air? I managed that trick in the past, but that was Elliot — and I made it! I came up with a gasp, clutching the ladder, panting, my chest heaving, my head down. I took a few deep breaths. As I climbed the ladder, I saw a pair of black dress shoes, toes pointing in my direction. Above them, gray pants with a crisp vertical crease running up the front of each leg. Had Max's dad come back? But no, not his dad. I tilted my head back and saw, above the belt buckle, above the light blue shirt and red and gray striped tie, was Max's face. His mouth hung open. He blinked several times.

"Hi, Max," I said, still panting. Seeing him so fully dressed made me feel naked, and very conscious of my lack of clothes. I felt awkward and clumsy, but that was likely more in my head than in reality. I didn't stumble, thank goodness.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him. Stupid question, I know. Obviously, Melissa invited him. For breakfast. For breakfast with me in a bathing suit. She wanted her bam! and she wanted it now. (In case you forgot, in Melissa's mind, bam! is the sound of Max falling in love. With me.)

"I, uh — Mom, um — Elliot? Is that you?"

"It's Lorelei," I said in a quiet voice, not wanting to be overheard. "But, yes, I'm in here."

"My God! I didn't know you were here... at all... much less, like this."

"Yeah," I replied. "I went for your Aunt's big makeover." I could see his surprise — or rather, he was holding my towel in front of him, to hide his surprise. "Max, could I have my towel, please? It's a little cold in the air."

"Oh, sure, of course." He turned his body awkwardly sideways and handed it to me. I dried my face first, then hung the towel over my head to dry my hair — I wanted to give him time to arrange himself.

In fact, when I was done rubbing my hair, I saw him sitting at the little white cast-iron table. It was set for breakfast. Max took one of the big white cloth napkins, opened it up, and spread it across his lap. I pretended not to notice, to not show that I knew what he was doing, but a faint blush spread across my face. I sat down next to him, facing him, a three-quarters view.

"I didn't know you were coming," I told him. He shrugged and nodded.

"You still like to swim, I see," he said.

"Yes, some things haven't changed." As I spoke, I stretched my shoulders, pressing some little kinks out. They were small movements, but enough to move my breasts around. Max's eyes fell to my chest. I looked toward the house, as if I hadn't seen. I wasn't sure at all whether women had a standard protocol for this.

"You look... incredible," he said.

"Thanks. Your Aunt Viv literally did her magic."

"And you don't... mind?" He asked, as if he couldn't conceive of such a thing. I shook my head. Max followed up with "It doesn't freak you out?"

"No, not at all. Honestly, it's kind of fun."

"Tell me that when you're on your period," he said, somewhere between a tease and a scoff.

"Yeah, I guess," I replied. "I'm not sure that's something I'll want to talk to *you* about." I meant to say, Hopefully I won't be female long enough for that, but apparently my mouth had ideas of its own..

I leaned my elbows on the table. There wasn't any food yet. I glanced again toward the kitchen. From the corner of my eye, I saw Max's eyes discretely swept over my entire body, from my face to my toes. Then he, too, turned toward the kitchen.

"My mother invited me for breakfast, but if it doesn't start soon, I'm going to have to take off. Sometimes it seems like she doesn't believe I have a real job."

I laughed. Max smiled as I did. I have a nice laugh! I discovered. I smiled back. Then, remembering my posture, I sat up straight, and feeling my hair trailing on my upper back, I reached up with both hands, and running my fingers through my hair to comb it, I twisted around the excess into a kind of tail and draped it over my right shoulder.

Max shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and checked the placement of his napkin. "Will you quit doing that?" he muttered.

"Doing what?"

"It's like you're trying to torture me," he confided in a low, tense voice. "You're making all these little movements to make your breasts bob and sway. It's really... distracting. Can you quit it?"

"I'm not doing anything, I swear!" I looked down at my breasts, which made them quiver and wobble. Max groaned.

"Look," I told him. "I'm not doing it on purpose. I'm really not! It just happens. I'm not used to having..." I turned red "...extensions like this. They move on their own. I don't have any fine control over which way they sway."

"Okay," he conceded, "but it's maddening. It's provoking, and you're not even trying to provoke me. I mean, you're not, are you?"

"No," I protested, but I was having a hard time keeping from laughing. "I'll do my best to sit absolutely still."

I planted my feet on the ground, put my hands on my thighs, and sat up straight. Max looked at the sky. "Maybe I should go get dressed," I offered.

"No, it's fine." He looked at his watch and sighed. "I'm running out of time."

"I'll go see what's keeping your mother," I told him, and stood.

"Wait," he said. "While we're alone... tell me one thing: Did you do all this—" he gestured at my breasts and legs "—did you do all this just for me? Please tell me you didn't."

"No, I didn't," I said. "I mean, it's partly for you, but I like being Lorelei. I feel a lot more alive than I do as Elliot."

"Okay," he said, nodding. He seemed to relax a bit at my response, and his gaze rolled down and rested on my crotch. He stared like he was hypnotized.

Up till that point, it was all cute, funny, and embarrassing — I mean, the way he kept sneaking looks at my breasts and legs. This stare, and what he was staring at, changed everything. In that moment, I understood that I was now on the other side of the equation. Up till then, I'd been playing this like a game, laughing at Melissa's intense matchmaking, minimizing Vivianne's warnings, but now I saw it. I felt it in my body. I was a woman, and Max was looking at me with a heat and hunger that I couldn't help but react to.

Even so, this wasn't the bam! that Melissa was looking for. This was something else, something more animal.

A line from the movie Happy, Texas came to mind, where one woman says to another, "He looked at you the way a fat man looks at a plate of eggs."

I was shocked. To be seen that way, as an object of desire, like meat. It was my turn to stand there, stupidly, awkwardly, white-faced, jaw hanging open, eyes blinking.

Max raised his eyes and met mine, and he knew that I'd seen what he was looking at and how he was looking at it.

The two of us sat there, frozen, eyes locked.

If we were two animals, something would have happened right then. Something physical, something strong. The iron, as the saying goes, the iron was hot. But we didn't strike. We were civilized humans, so we simply stared at each other.

Let's be honest, it wasn't love. It was lust. It was pure animal desire.

I melted, I liquified, I burned. I radiated heat from the core of me, directly to his core. It was strong. I'd never felt such a thing before.

And then I said it. I told you, it seemed like my mouth had ideas of its own. Seems that my body had some ideas it had to express as well.

I put words to a thought that I swear I never had in my head before that moment, but it was there now, and I found myself saying it.

"Max," I whispered, "I'm never changing back to Elliot."

"Never?" he repeated, whispering as well. "That's a long, long time."

And then we blinked and the spell was broken. He cleared his throat a half a dozen times, and I dried myself uselessly with my towel.

"Well! I better go see what's keeping your mother," I declared, taking a step back and turning.

"Okay," he said, "It was, uh, nice seeing you." I guess he couldn't find anything better to say, so he fell back on a standard, polite phrase. For my part, I couldn't do any better.

"You, too," was my response.

I smiled, awkwardly, and he smiled an awkward smile back. Clearly we were both awash in awkwardness.

I turned and walked away, wondering the entire way if I was walking at a normal pace. Was I going too fast? too slow? I tried to not think about what my derriere was doing, whether it swayed or rocked. Was I walking the way other women walk? Was this something I'd have to learn and practice? Could I even ask Melissa about it? I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Could I feel his eyes on my ass? Was that a real thing?

I sighed with relief when I slid open the glass door and entered the kitchen. Melissa was there, hiding, smiling conspiratorially. She stepped in front of me, so my back was still facing Max. I could see his reflection in the microwave over Melissa's shoulder.

"How did it go?" she asked in a stage whisper.

"Um... can I tell you later? He's got to get to work, and he's wondering where the breakfast is."

"I'll bring the breakfast out in a second, don't worry."

"Melissa, he's staring at us."

"He's staring at *you*, hon." She gave an impish grin. "Listen, do a heel bounce."

"What?"

"Lift up both heels and then let yourself drop."

I knew what she wanted, and I did it, I'm not sure my butt jiggle as much as it should have. The little image of Max reflected in the microwave arched his back and looked at the sky. I'm sure he groaned, though I couldn't hear it.

"Poor guy," I said. "I'm going to run and put some clothes on."