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DANNY
Part 2
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Author’s Note: I started writing this December 2005, soon after I discovered the now-defunct Fictionmania site, and I decided to try my hand at writing Transgender Fiction. And it took me this long to build up the courage to actually upload it for others to enjoy (or not – your option heheh).
I have resurrected what little I have of my old story, and though I am by no means a real writer, I hope to finish the rest of the story asap
I first uploaded it in Crystal’s StorySite, and, though still incomplete, I was convinced to try uploading it in Topshelf as well. Feedback would be most appreciated, so I do hope people write me back through my site-registered email address.
I am by no means a real writer so I hope you will forgive any grammatical and literary flubs that you see. Further, given that this little piece had close to five years of gestation, many of the cultural referents will be off - for example, many of the songs used in the story are not current but in the story they’re treated as if they were, yet at the same time other songs are really current songs. I hope you will forgive the temporal mismatch here, and try and enjoy the story despite this.
Apologies also if the quoted lyrics are wrong – I got most of them off the net, or from my own memory – I didn’t get them off official sources.
So, without further ado, here we go with the story. Hope you like… (Don’t forget! Feedback please!!)
Part Two: Life Goes On
In Part Two, we see how Danny copes with his condition, and how he, sister Danielle, his family and friends cope, and how he ends up getting into his new thing – radio DJ. Hello, Nighthawk!
Seven: Bras
***** (Danny) *****
After what felt like a long time, Mom came back. It turned out to be nothing. She had a nurse with her, and was carrying a little paper sack and a folder in her hand. We looked up.
“Kids, this is Eleanor. She’s a dietician, and she’s here to talk with both you and Danielle.” Eleanor smiled at us, and beckoned us to sit down with her.
As I was sitting down, I pointed to the paper bag. “What’s that, Mom?”
“It’s the results of your tests. And your medicine. Dr. Roberts also gave me the prescription for them. Also, we went and set up your appointments. Your checkup, as well as your session with the psychiatrist, will be Fridays, starting at five in the afternoon.”
“Okay, if you think I need to.”
“It’s no big deal, hon. Doctor says he just wants to make sure you’re okay through all of this.”
Eleanor turned out to be a very friendly nurse. She asked both me and Danielle about our eating habits and our activities. We told her that we were both very active, and have always had extremely healthy appetites.
She sighed. “Oh, you two don’t know how lucky you are.” Both of us shrugged.
She advised us to exercise regularly at least twice a week - bicycle riding, swimming or jogging would be good - and to increase our carbohydrate intake. Mom rolled her eyes. “Don’t encourage them,” she said.
Eleanor was being serious. She said we should have more carbohydrates in our diet. Without neglecting fiber and protein, of course.
Before leaving, she left a set of pamphlets for us to read, and a small business card with her number. She waved goodbye, shook hands with Mom and left.
Mom briskly rubbed her hands. “OK, then. Let’s get cleaned up and get checked out. Let’s get to the mall since you guys have to get some exercise outfits.”
Danielle clapped her hands at the thought of shopping. I groaned. “Oh, Mom. Do we have to?”
“Young man, be quiet and just pack your things.”
We were soon riding in Dad’s car, heading out to the mall. Danielle and I were both sitting at the back, arms over each other’s shoulders, each wrapped up in our own thoughts. Mom was humming some tune known only to her as she drove. We had left the windows open, and let the warm breeze in. It whipped Danielle’s and my hair into our faces. Danielle giggled, and held her hair back. I put on my baseball cap, reversed, and laughed. It was a nice day, and we were enjoying the ride.
Mom found a parking space near the entrance, and we walked into the mall. Mom was much taller than either of us, and she was able to easily put her arm around my shoulder. I had my arm around her hip. Danielle led us to an aerobics shop, and we split up. I went to the men’s section and picked up a nice pair of cross-training shoes. I wanted a pair in black, but they only had white available in my size (men’s size five, can you believe it?). I dropped the pair in the cart, and picked up other stuff. Like some loose tank tops and a couple of sweatbands, thinking of my newly-long hair, and of how much I sweat. I also got a couple of cycling shorts, thinking it would be nice to ride my bike regularly again.
I went in search of Mom and Danielle, and found them shopping for bras. Danielle had come back from the changing room with some sports bras in her hand that she got from a sale bin. She had about three in the same style, but in different colors. I went to her and made fun of her stuff. She stuck her tongue out at me.
Mom was looking at the both of us in a funny way. She gestured to Danielle, and they whispered at each other - something about sizes. Danielle giggled, and Mom went back to the bins.
She came back with about ten or more sports bras in a plainer style, and this time in solid blacks, whites and grays only. I looked at the both of them. “Lots of bras,” I commented. Danielle giggled, and Mom started pushing Danielle’s cart to the checkout for her. I followed with my own load.
Mom paid for everything, and we followed Danielle into a series of shops. She would, from time to time ask for Mom’s or my advice. Hard-pressed for an opinion, I would shrug and say that I didn’t know anything about women’s clothes. She would pout, as if I had just said I didn’t like what she had picked, and would go back and get another. Girls…
In one store, she would pick out an outfit and hold it against my torso. I protested, but she explained that she wanted to see how it looked, and since there were no full-length mirrors or changing rooms, and I was her size… “Mom!” I protested.
Mom refused to comment. I stomped out of the shop and looked for the nearest bookstore. I decided to cool off as well as get my weekly sci-fi fix, and thumbed through the new selections. There was this little nerdy guy, not much taller than me, who chatted me up. We had a good time talking about Tolkien and Frank Herbert. But when he asked if I wanted a soda or something… He thought I was a girl! When I responded with stony silence, he sort of slunk away. I fumed, but my anger slowly gave way to depression.
After what seemed like hours, Danielle and Mom found me still there, my nose in some classics by William Gibson and “drugstore” type stuff by C.J. Cherryh. Mom saw through my fake smile, and decided to buy me a couple of books to cheer me up. After a short snack at the food court, we decided to go home.
Danielle was skipping on ahead of us on the way to the car, two humungous shopping bags swinging against her legs. Mom had bought me five pocketbooks as well as the shoes and clothes. I felt a little guilty about it so I gave Mom a little hug. “Thanks for the stuff, Mom. And I’m sorry for getting angry.”
She kissed me on the top of my head. “You’re welcome, Sonny Jim,” she said in her best Irish voice, and tousled my red hair. She sounded as genuine as my old uncle from Ireland. I laughed.
The ride back was sunny and nice and uneventful, my little tantrum all but forgotten, it seemed. Danielle and I went to our rooms and put away our new stuff. At dinner, Danielle and I decided on a jog in the morning. I fell asleep reading the latest sequel in the Uplift series from David Brin.
The following Saturday morning, Dad was waking me up from the first sound sleep I’ve had in a while. The doctor’s assurances had eased my mind incredibly, and I had a very pleasant night’s sleep.
At the hospital, I had taken to lying on my back when sleeping, instead of on my side. It felt more comfortable when I did. So when I opened my eyes, I found myself looking straight up at Dad’s face.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said, disgustingly wide awake.
“Whassup?” I mumbled.
“Time for your jog, Dan,” he said, and pulled away my blanket. I moaned but got up. I put on shorts and my new sneaks, not bothering to put on socks, and I yawned with a bone-cracking yawn. I took off the shirt I was wearing, opened my drawer and put on one of my new tanktops. I looked at my reflection and stopped.
Danielle walked into my room, apparently having been awakened by Dad, too. She was wearing a new loose tanktop, not unlike mine, over her new yellow sports bra, capri-length bicycle pants and a new pair of running shoes. Just the right outfit for her for a leisurely summer jog. She caught me looking at myself.
“What’s up,” she said. I mutely pointed at my reflection, and she looked into my mirror.
My breasts were clearly outlined in the shirt, and the side of my left breast could clearly be seen from the large opening on the side of the shirt. I was about to cry again, and that upset me more. I seem to find myself crying all the time. Danielle walked up to me and gave me a strong stinging slap. I looked at her in shock.
She looked at me in anger, but I could also see compassion deep in her green eyes. “I know this is hard on you,” she said. “But you gotta suck it up. The only way to get through all of this is to be strong. No more wimping out , Dan. Either face this head-on or, or…”
“Danielle…”
She hugged me around my neck, and whispered. “I will be here for you, but you gotta do this for yourself. Be strong. I know you are. You can get through this, I swear. But you gotta be the one to do it.”
“I’ll, I’ll try…”
“Good boy,” she said.
She wiped away my tears, and dragged me by the hand to her room. She led me to her dresser, and she took out the black, white and gray bras that we bought yesterday.
I looked at her with a question.
“These aren’t for me,” she said. “The size is too small. Mom actually bought them for you.”
“But, but…”
She held a finger across my lips. “Enough of that. With your new breasts, you’re gonna need these. In fact, you’re gonna need a lot more of these.”
She randomly picked the gray one, and demonstrated how to wear it. I put it on, noting that it was like putting on a very tight but stretchy tank. It sort of pinched my boobs, so Danielle taught me how to adjust my breasts in them. “Does it fit?” she asked. “I took a chance on the size. Bras really have to be tried on to make sure the fit’s right.” After putting it on properly, I put my loose tanktop over it. The bra felt snug but comfortable, my breasts sort of squashed down. I shook my chest, and the breasts didn’t jiggle. Much.
Danielle got a scrunchie and tied back her hair. I combed out my hair, put on my terrycloth headband, and we headed out.
God, we were in poor shape. But we did manage about two laps around our little suburban neighborhood. The bra felt okay, especially with the support it gave. But, although it was comfortable, the gray of the bra was clearly seen through my rapidly drenched tank. And people can just get a glimpse of it through the arm holes as I swing my arms. Next time, I’m gonna wear a thicker shirt with sleeves, and I’m gonna make sure colors match.
There were others jogging, too. A couple of guys we didn’t know tried chatting us up, but both of us couldn’t spare the breath. Danielle smiled, obviously flattered, but I resolutely kept my eyes facing forward, a blush spreading on my cheeks.
When we couldn’t take any more, we headed home. We staggered up our front steps, and fell on the front deck.
“I look like a girl, don’t I?” I asked Danielle without preamble.
“Just a little bit.” Huff!
“Bullshit. I look like a girl. Those two guys…”
Danielle was trying to catch her breath. “Listen…” Puff! “Those guys saw what they were expecting to see.” Puff! “And they were expecting to see a girl.”
“What if I change my hair again? Get a crewcut?”
Huff! “Do you think it’ll make a difference now?” She shook her head. “I hate to say it, Dan, but look at you. Do you think it’ll make a difference?”
I looked down at my bra outlined in the wet shirt. “I don’t know...”
“You’re on the mend, now. Like the doctor says.” Puff! “But, for now, you gotta grit your teeth and bear it. It’ll get better.”
She grinned suddenly. “Besides, I don’t understand why you’re complaining. You’re a babe, Danny-boy!”
I looked at her and smiled in gratitude for her support and her humor. Then I had a bright idea. I did my best Bimbo Betty. “Do ya think so? Do ya rilly, rilly think so?” I matched it with a sexy jiggle. Or as sexy as I could manage, being as wiped out as I was. Danielle exploded in laughter. I went on with some more bubble-headed prattle, and had Danielle belly-laughing helplessly.
“Dan, stop! Please stop! I can’t take much more…”
I took pity on her and desisted. Her laughs faded and we both grinned at each other wanly. I touched her cheek. It’s because of these things that made me realize that I loved my sister very much. We hugged and helped each other up the steps and into the house.
“Hang in there, Dan,” she said. “Just hang in there. We’ll make it.”
I had taken to wearing my sports bras everywhere. I asked Mom to buy me a lot of plain white ones (I couldn’t get myself to buy them on my own), and I continued wearing my loose shirts to camouflage the bra and my little babies. Dad knew about the bras but didn’t say a word. I loved him for that. In fact, he drove Mom and Danielle to the mall to buy them, never saying a word and making fun of me.
Not long after, though, I found out that I had to change all of my new bras for bigger ones. Surprisingly, Mom and Dad made no protests at all and bought me new ones.
The bras did get my still-growing now-larger-than-average b-cup babies flattened out a bit, and they didn’t jiggle much anymore. I tried binding down my tits with an Ace bandage once, but by the end of the day I started to itch something awful. So I went back to my bras. I just made sure to wear thick loose shirts over them.
At least someone was enjoying my predicament. Danielle was all giggly and friendly ever since I started wearing bras. And she started acting all weird on me, especially at home. When we’re eating, like dinner or whatever, she’d sit right beside me instead of her usual place across from me, and sit uncomfortably close. Near the end of the meal, we’d almost always find each other grabbing for the last piece of cake or roll, drumstick or chicken dumpling, or whatever. I felt she was doing it deliberately, timing it so we’d end up with the last piece. To avoid an argument, I’d usually let her have it, and she’d thank me with a little kiss on the cheek, faintly flavored with whatever we were eating at the time. Yuck! When we’re watching TV in the living room, she’d insist that I braid her hair. I didn’t know how so she demonstrated on my hair. By then it was down to my shoulders, long enough to be braided. So I would braid her hair just to get out of having my own hair messed with. Many times, she’d insist on doing our homework together and we’d end up staying up late working in the living room or in the kitchen. But we did find these “study sessions” helpful. Our grades were never this good. Much later, I even found out that she had switched lockers with Marlee Jones, the geeky little freshman with the perpetually smudged glasses (I don’t know how she managed that!) so that she would get the locker next to mine.
I also had this funny feeling that she wanted me to start dressing up in girl clothes again. Many times, right after she did the laundry, I’d find her lingerie mixed in with my shorts, and I’d sheepishly hand her the underwear. She’d make a giggly remark about being sorry for making the mistake, and I’d shake my head. Many times she had asked me to come along with her and her friends as they went shopping for clothes. I found it extremely uncomfortable to be around lingerie and pantyhose, and her friends found it weird for me to be there too, to say the least. I ended up knowing a little more than I wanted to know about women’s underwear, and the girls were getting used to me being around, too.
I wasn’t too happy about cutting time out with my buds, though. Once I asked Danielle if Morgan and the others could go with us on one of their shopping trips. Danielle said it was just for girls, not for icky boys. Morgan and I looked at each other, and we just shrugged it off.
Lately, after school, she would come into my room without knocking, and sit on the bed while I did my homework, or practiced with my guitar or fooled with my Vaio, and she’d talk about things - inconsequential stuff, but stuff that seemed important to her: her friends, school, homework, gym class, TV shows, music, makeup. And boys, for God’s sake! Just to get out of responding, I would make noncommittal grunts, most of the time, though deep inside I found her prattle interesting - like getting a glimpse of what and how a girl really thinks.
I overdid the uninterested bit once, and she started crying and stormed out of my room. I went after her, a bit shocked, and found her bawling in her room. I asked what was wrong.
“If you don’t want me around, just say so!” she sniffed.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s just that you’re not interested in the things I say. You ignore me all the time! You probably think I’m such a ditz.”
“No, I don’t,” I said. “I think you’re one of the smartest people I know. And you’re beautiful and friendly, and funny. I like being with you.” Which was all true.
“You’re just saying that.”
I sat beside her and hugged her close. She turned away.
“No, I’m not,” I said.
“Then why don’t you want to go shopping with me? Why don’t you wanna hang out with me? I thought we were starting to get to know each other better. Why don’t you wanna talk to me?”
I sighed. “Danielle, I like talking with you, and I do wanna hang out with you and your friends. But I don’t wanna get caught by my buds in the lingerie section buying panties with you. I'm a guy, Danielle! What will Morgan and the others say?”
“You can say you’re with me.”
“Come on, Danielle. I don’t want to get a reputation for being a perv.”
She sniffled a little, and sort of smiled at me. I thought I was in the clear, and then I said, “your time of the month, huh?” She slapped me.
I continued to take my pills, and was impatient for them to start taking effect. In the meantime, life went on.
Using a letter from Dr. Roberts, Mom got me exempted from gym class. But everything else was the same. Everything was back to normal, or at least I tried to behave like everything was normal.
One thing I noted was that my body was still far from normal. Still no body hair to speak of. Skin as sensitive as before. And it felt like it had actually gotten softer. And, despite regular exercise, I didn’t gain that much extra weight, except around my hips. I was starting to notice I was becoming bottom-heavy, so I told my dietician about the problem. She said that my carbohydrate-rich diet will tend to do that, and then she had me switch to a much more conventional diet and took out the Vitamin B supplements from my list. It slowed the expansion of my butt. Danielle, however, was looking sexier than ever, with firm calves, slimmer waist and an incredible ass.
After a while, I noticed that I had started developing some muscles. Not Schwarzenegger muscles, mind you. But muscles nonetheless. I could now benchpress close to twice my weight, and could now run several circuits of the neighborhood without fainting. I tried a couple of bodybuilding poses in front of the mirror, but to no avail. No definition at all in my abs, shoulders and upper arms. Too stringy muscles under too much subcutaneous fat.
I was getting more and more frustrated with the slow progress of my pills, so I was thinking of getting a crewcut again, to offset whatever visible feminine traits I was showing. But I decided against it because Nikki said she liked the hair the way it was. She thought it was sexy. Hey! Her words, not mine!
There were two other things I noticed. One was that, though the rapid growth of my breasts had slowed down a lot (they were now larger-than-usual b-cups), they were more sensitive. And when I was turned on, so were my breasts. And obviously so. My nipples would harden at the most inopportune times. Once, Ms Jarret, our sexy substitute English teacher, came in wearing an extremely, umm, petite skirt. When she bent over to erase something on the board, all male eyes reacted. Me, too. I imagined Beavis and Butthead going, “Boinngg!” or Wayne and Garth going “schwinng!” But the thing was, my nipples also went “Boinngg!” The rubbing of the bra slowly drove me out of my mind, so I had to excuse myself to go to the bathroom and splash water on my face. At least I wasn’t becoming gay. Of that I was sure.
But another thing I noticed, though I wasn't 100% sure, was that my prick had become larger. In the flaccid state, it looked like it did before. But when I’m aroused, I felt it was larger than before. Junior had about an extra inch on him now as well as being thicker, though I wasn’t sure. A few plusses with the minuses, I thought. I’d been meaning to ask my doctor about it, but I was too embarrassed. I also wanted to give my new and improved equipment a test drive, especially with Nikki. But I didn’t want to mess up the new relationship I was starting to develop with her. We had started to get closer after the audition, and I was happy enough for now. Also, if ever we do it, I wanted it to be special. Nikki was a special person. And, the truth was, being a virgin, I was scared to even try.
The weekly sessions with my shrink did help to settle my mind. I accepted that my problem was largely just a physical thing, and it wasn’t anybody’s fault. We did talk a lot about gender identity and body and self image and, yes, penis envy and all of that Freudian crapola.
When I started feeling comfortable around Dr. Jessup, I did end up talking about my concerns about my body and my mind more directly. And she said there was nothing to worry about. Aside from the softer skin and the boobs, my highly emotional state was also brought on by the hormone thing.
About my penis, she suspected it was because of my medicine. Apparently, my pills contained synthetic male hormones, but not the synthetic steroids that athletes abused and had all of these scary side effects. But it did have its own side effects, one of the major ones was a mild kind of vascular dilation in the extremities, coupled with another side effect - a mild kind of priapism, i.e. uncontrollable boners. Well, at least I was able to confirm that Mr. Willy really started to become bigger. Once, Dr. Jessup jokingly asked to see it. I froze, and she laughed.
Even with such questions, it was easy to get comfortable around her. She was completely open and friendly, and didn’t mind talking about anything at all. She was also quite pretty, in a mature kind of way, but not overly so, so as to be unapproachable. And I was sure she wasn't telling my folks the things we talk about (I checked). So I began to open up more. I felt comfortable enough to even talk about my fears of becoming gay.
“Well,” she said, "are you turned on by guys?”
“No!” But my answer was a little too fast for her.
“Hold on, Dan,” she said. “Don’t answer too quickly. Think about it a little bit. Just think about the possibility of being attracted to boys. Just the possibility.”
I thought about it. “I don’t know, Doc. It sorta feels wrong, somehow. Like it’s not natural.”
“How do you feel about being with a girl?”
I grinned. “Sure! I mean, why not?”
“Got your eye on anyone special?”
“Well…”
She grinned. “Okay. You do. So, why do you like this girl so much?”
I thought it over. “Well she’s very pretty…”
She waved her hand impatiently. “Yes, yes. But other than the physical aspect, what else do you like about her?”
“Umm, she’s bright and nice, and kind, and, and…”
“Don’t stop.”
“Uh. She’s a very helpful person. And she likes me. And she does things for me. Like let me copy her homework, and stuff. Like giving me the last jello-pudding in the cafeteria. Small things, I know. But, taken together…”
She laughed. “Okay, okay. So what about you? What would you like to do with her?”
I cleared my throat. “Umm, well, aside from the usual…” I grinned. “Like go on dates. Or give her stuff, so she’ll like me. Do things for her.”
“Okay. What else?”
This was starting to make me uncomfortable. “Umm. You know, things…”
“Such as?”
“Well, the usual…” I looked at her face. She was forcing me to say it. “All right! I wanna make it with her! Okay? Satisfied?”
She made a patting gesture. “All right, Dan. Simmer down.”
I took a deep breath, and made myself calm down. She jotted a few things in her notebook. "Think about what you’re going to say before saying it," I thought to myself, "and don’t get agitated."
“This is just a mental exercise, Dan. Nothing personal. Okay?”
This session was getting pretty intense. “Okay.”
“Let’s look at it from a girl’s point of view. Try to put yourself in her shoes.”
“Kay.”
“Close your eyes. It’ll help.” I obediently closed my eyes.
“Okay. Imagine yourself a girl.” I frowned at that, but I complied.
“Imagine you are a sexy teenage girl. Very pretty, with a lot of guys chasing after you. Try and imagine a specific girl that you know, that’s like that, and imagine yourself to be her.”
I tried but found it really hard.
“You got her in your mind?”
“Wait a sec.” I tried again, and the person who came to my mind was Danielle. I imagined her in her exercise outfit, jogging in slow motion, ponytail swinging on her back. “Okay.”
“Now, imagine her going out on a date. Imagine a guy that she’ll like. What kind of guy would that be?"
I thought a bit. “Well, he has to be a tall guy, cute, into sports, and, well, I don’t really know what a girl really wants. I can assume a lot from the stuff you hear and what you see on TV. I mean, I don’t really know!” I was babbling.
She waved impatiently. “Wait, wait! Not the cliché stuff. Imagine you as the girl. What would you want?”
I kept my eyes tightly shut. “I can’t!”
She patted my hand. “You’re trying too hard. Breathe! Calm down.”
I took several deep breaths.
“Relax!”
I forced my muscles to unclench.
“Now, are you relaxed?” she asked after a few moments. I nodded. Later on, I will recall hearing a soft click.
“Let’s try again. You are a girl. You are with your girlfriends. You are talking with them about school. About an upcoming test. About what’s on TV tonight. About many, many things.”
I pictured it in my mind’s eye. Me as Danielle talking with Nikki and the others on the steps. I had my arms around my books. Nikki was telling me about the English test in the afternoon, and if I had reviewed enough.
“Now,” Dr. Jessup, said. “The discussion turns to the upcoming dance.”
I frowned a little bit, but was game to try it her way.
“Your friends tell you that they have dates already.” I smiled, imagining Nikki talking about the cute Daniel Fairchild, and how it would be fun to go to the dance with him. Hah! Talk about wishful thinking.
“The discussion drifts to what all of you would be wearing.” I imagined me in a dress similar to the wedding dress I wore to the Halloween contest.
“You tell them how you will be dressing up.” I my mind’s eye, I tell them about details of my dress and my makeup.
“You tell your friends how beautiful you’ll look, and how your date will go crazy over you.” I imagine myself arm-in-arm with a tall guy as he walks me to the middle of the dance floor.
“You tell them how much fun it will be.” I hear Drew giggling.
“They tell you about their own dates, but you tell them that your own boyfriend is so much better.” I imagine the start of an argument, as I tell them about my boyfriend.
“But your friends kid you about how much you are in love with him. And you laugh with them.” I hear Danielle’s sweet laughter mingling with theirs. My laughter.
“Then the bell rings and you have to go back to class.” I hear the bell and I dust myself off to walk back. I keep my books close to me. But Dr. Jessup wasn’t talking anymore. I frowned, waiting for her to bring this somewhere.
After a while, I open my eyes and look at her, puzzled.
“What happens next?”
“What do you think happens next?”
“Huh?”
“That was it Dan. That’s my experiment.”
I frowned at her, feeling a little shortchanged.
She put down her little notebook. “Now,” she said. “Let’s get into what happened.”
I sat up. “Okay.”
“Did you get a clear picture?”
“Umm, yeah?”
“Give me details. I take it you were sitting down with your friends. Who were they?”
“Drew was there… and Nikki.”
Where were you, exactly?”
“Sitting down in the front steps of school.”
“Who were you?”
“I was Danielle.”
She jotted down something. “And what did you talk about?”
“We talked about the English exam coming up on Monday.”
“What else?”
“About a dance coming up. Wait a minute, what dance? There’s no dance…”
She interrupted me. “Who are Nikki and Drew going with?”
“Drew’s going out with Dale, my band’s base player.”
“Nikki?”
I smiled. “Nikki’s going out with me. I mean, she’s going out with Dan.”
“And then what else did you talk about?”
“We talked about what we’d be wearing. I’m gonna be wearing a very sheer short white dress.”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to be wearing high heels, but I have to be really careful so I don’t hurt my partner on the dance floor.”
“You like him a lot, huh? Your boyfriend.”
“Oh sure! He’s so nice! He’s so cute and he loves me so much.”
“What are the things that you like about him?”
“Oh, he’s so cute! He’s so smart and is great with everyone. He pays attention to me, and listens to what I have to say. He does things for me, and doesn’t ask for anything in return.”
“Anything else?”
“Oh, he’s just so sweet and kind, like he doesn’t make me do anything I don’t want to. He’s everything I want to be. He dresses so cool, and rides a bike, it makes him so cool… Wait a minute… A bike?”
“What is it, Dan?”
“Umm.. nothing. It’s just…” I heard a click, and suddenly recalled a click before. I suddenly stopped, shocked at myself. “Good god!”
“What, Dan?”
“What have I been saying? What…”
“Take it easy, dear.”
“But, but…”
“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t make you gay or anything like that. I just put you into a little trance and did a little auto-suggestion.” She held up a little device that looked like an old-style Walkman. “See this?” She passed it to me. I turned it over and over in my hand, and breathed a little sigh of relief. So, I was hypnotized.
“Is this a tape recorder?” I passed it back, recalling the second-hand portable tape recorders I saw on sale at thrift shops.
“More like a cassette player,” the doctor said, “because it cannot record. No, this is what’s called a white noise generator. It does what we used to use pendulums for. This generates a sort of static sound, what is called white noise, and it helps put people into a more receptive state for hypnotic suggestions. The way pendulums do.”
“You hypnotized me.”
“No, dear. I just made you more relaxed and more open to suggestion. And it worked, didn’t it? You did find yourself opening up.”
“Umm…”
“Now, what did you learn? What did that little imaginary talk with your friends tell you?”
“Umm, that, umm, that girls like guys that are cute, that pay attention to them. That does things for them. That are nice and kind. Umm…”
“Well?”
“Well, it’s exactly the same as what guys like. Basically.”
“Good. What else?”
“But, Doc, this is me! I’m not gay! And, besides, these are what I think girls like. I could be wrong, you know.”
“Exactly. It’s what you think guys and girls are like. But, what is important here is what you think, and everyone else’s opinions are beside the point.
“Still, you have to give yourself some credit. You are right on the mark. Fundamentally, in this situation, men and women have the same basic desires. In your unique position, it gives you a better insight into both the male and female psyche. I am not surprised that you came to this realization so easily.”
She looked at me with one of her “significant” looks. “Though I don’t think you have any homosexual tendencies, well not more than other boys at least. At this point, in finding out what makes you happy, gender is immaterial. You can use this new insight to become a better person. You can use it to become a happier person.”
I was quiet for a little while. “But there seems to be something else,” she said very perceptively.
“Umm, the guy? My ‘boyfriend?’”
“Yes, Dan?”
“I think it was Morgan!” Saying it out loud made me freak out all the more.
Dr. Jessup patted my hand. “Calm down, Danny. Deep breaths.”
“Am I really straight? Or do I have the hots for my best friend?”
She calmed me down, and asked me to lie back.
“Morgan’s your best friend?” I nod. “Among your buddies, you like him best?” I nod again. “So, isn’t it only natural that, if you were forced to pick someone for a boyfriend, which was what I did, wouldn’t it be natural for you to pick him?”
“I guess…” She sounded so reasonable… I hated it.
“Don’t read anything into it, Dan.”
I didn’t have the courage to go on, and explain my fears. That thinking of Morgan, in that way, was exciting, in a vague sort of way.
That night, I waved at Danielle watching TV in the living room, and clomped upstairs to my room. I didn’t see Mom. I undressed as usual and shotputted my clothes into the hamper. I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror tacked to my cabinet. I was used to my sports bra now, and it didn’t freak me out too much to see myself in a bra anymore. I swiped at my longish red hair and tucked it behind my ear. I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my briefs and pulled it down, tossing it into the hamper as well. I looked at my dick and lifted it in my hand. It IS larger, I thought, and smiled, wondering if I would be able to show it to Nikki. With those pleasantly lecherous thoughts, I started to get excited and it started to twitch. Suddenly, out of the blue, I imagined me and Morgan having sloppy sex with each other, and was so shocked at myself that my growing hard-on suddenly disappeared.
I sighed, pulled the bra over my head and tossed it into the brimming hamper. I put my hands on my hips and looked at my completely-nude body in the mirror. I ran my hands over my arms, hips and legs, and noted how soft everything was. And I still didn’t have any body hair. What body hair I had was limited to the sparse thatch at my groin. Well, at least I didn’t have a permanent ten-o-clock shadow like Dad, I thought as I started to inspect my face.
I also noted that I had stopped gaining inches around my hips since I switched diets, but with my narrow waist, they still flared out. I turned around to look at my ass. Seems the fat there wasn’t disappearing, too. I clenched my buttocks and I fancied that my ass looked like Mel Gibson’s, and would drive chicks wild. I turned around again and looked at my chest. The growth of my breasts have thankfully started to slow down, but they were definitely bigger than they were a week ago. They were big enough that I could lift them up now, which I did. I let them go and they bounced. I sighed. Maybe it's time to get new bras.
***** (Danielle) *****
I opened the door to Dan’s bedroom and I caught him fooling around. He was lifting his breasts up, checking out their size, apparently. After a moment, he let go and they jiggled up and down. I giggled at the sight.
I cleared my throat and said, “Hi, Gorgeous!”
Dan looked around and saw me. He dived for his bed, and pulled the bedclothes around him.
“Danielle,” he said, embarrassed and indignant. “Don’t you ever knock?” He stood in front of the mirror and glared at me.
“Well, if you were playing with yourself, you could have at least locked your door.”
“I wasn’t playing with myself. I was, umm, changing.”
“Sure,” I snickered.
“But I was,” he protested.
“Simmer down, little brother.” I closed the door behind me and locked it. His eyebrows rose in alarm “If you want me to be fair about it, I could take off my clothes, too.” I had my hand on the buttons of my blouse.
Dan blushed crimson. “Ahhh. No need. I forgive you. Now leave me alone so I can get dressed in peace.”
“But, Danny,” I said, acting contrite, “I insist. It’s the least I could do to apologize for barging in on you.” I couldn’t help but smile at his embarrassment as I pulled my blouse free of my skirt’s waistband, and unbuttoned it.
I threw the blouse away from me and unzipped my skirt. I took off my shoes and slid my pantyhose down.
“Danielle!” Danny was becoming unglued.
I continued to take off everything, and stood in front of him buck naked. He was shaking and had his eyes tightly closed, his hands covering his face. The bedclothes fell to the floor but Dan didn’t take his hands from his face to wrap them around him again.
“Danny,” I said softly, trying to pull his hands gently away from his face, but he resisted. “There’s nothing to hide from each other. We have to learn to be comfortable being around each other. We’re twins, after all. It’s okay. Besides, you’ve seen me naked before.” He shook his head.
“Danny!”
“No. Nope. Uh-uh.”
“Daniel Fairchild! Look at me!” I managed to pry his hands away, but he kept his eyes shut tightly.
“I’m not going to leave your room until you look at me,” I said in my sweetest voice.
He slowly opened one eye, but when he got a look he shut them tight again.
“I’m waiting, Daniel.”
He slowly opened his eyes and resolutely looked at the ceiling. I put my hands on the sides of his head and had him face the mirror. After a few more seconds, he gave up the fight and looked.
We stood beside each other and looked at the reflections in the mirror.
We stood there, transfixed, staring at each other. It was the first time we saw each other completely, and we could not believe how similar we looked. My nipples started to clench from excitement and, dare I say it, sexual anticipation. I wasn’t sure, but I thought Daniel’s did, too.
I shifted my gaze from his face to mine, and then back again. I noticed him doing the same. Though my makeup was very light, it was enough to make us look like different people. I stooped and picked up my blouse and wiped my face as best I could, wiping off most of what little makeup I had on. I looked in the mirror again but, besides the little that remained that I couldn’t rub off, we could see that we shared the same face. The same green eyes, perky nose, high cheekbones and expressive mouth, though his lips were a lot more pouty than mine. I looked at his eyes and smiled. He cocked his head to the side and smiled back gently. I continued to study our reflections.
We were just about the same height, but he was just a trifle taller - almost inconsequential, actually. Dan was just a smidge thinner, too, and had hair down to his shoulders whereas I had hair down to the middle of my back. My hair was styled with highlights and some subtle curls, and Dan had a natural color, curl and body to his. I had fuller, more voluptuous curves and Dan had less, but with more than enough curves at the right places to make him absolutely sexy, in fact, paradoxically, even sexier than me. And my breasts were full, still-growing C’s and Dan’s were smallish C’s (or larger-than-usual B's - I wasn't sure), but they had grown since the last time I saw them - he'd probably be as big as me soon. He reached across and shyly touched my left breast. His shy hands felt like butterflies, and I gasped. That momentary touch sent a thrill through me. My nipples stiffened involuntarily.
His hips were a not as wide as mine and not quite so curvy. But still very, very sexy. I ran a hand over one silky-soft curved hip, and Dan shivered a little. I turned us both around, and looked at our rears. I looked at his oh-so-sexy butt. Mel Gibson, eat your heart out. Or should I say Jennifer Lopez. In my opinion, his ass could make any boy, or girl for that matter, salivate on command. I couldn’t stop myself so I pinched the right cheek. I giggled as Dan slapped my fanny.
I felt my pulse quicken. It was like he was an incredibly sexy girl. It felt like his sex appeal was a palpable aura, coming off him in gentle but irresistible waves. I’m sure anyone would be turned on by him, whether guy or girl. It was irresistible. Or was it just me?
I took his hand and turned us both around. We looked at each other’s crotch.
Of course you couldn’t see much with mine, but when I looked at his crotch, I gasped a little. “Oh my God,” I whispered.
“What?” He sounded a little panicked
“Your… thing, Dan. It’s big.” He smiled with a little pride. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve seen bigger,…” That deflated his ego a little. “But it is big, especially for someone like you.”
“Does it, umm, look okay?” He sounded worried.
“It looks fine!” I reached out with my right hand and stopped. “May I touch it?”
He looked nervous. “If you want to…”
I put my hand around the shaft of the penis, my pinky just behind the flared head, and my index finger almost touching his balls. It felt incredibly warm and silky. Wonderful. And I felt it stir to life. I let go quickly, like I was scalded.
Dan looked down, shamed. “I’m sorry, Danielle, I…”
I put a gentle hand on his cheek. “No, Dan, It’s okay. It’s my fault, not yours.” He smiled at me with a gentle, rueful smile. I bent and picked up my clothes, and put everything back on, including my dirty blouse. He wrapped the bedclothes around him again.
When I was dressed, I smiled at him again, reached out, put my hand on the back of his head and pulled him to me so I could give him a sisterly kiss on the lips. “See you at dinner,” I whispered in his ear, and walked to my room.
I stepped into my room, trembling as I started to lose control. I locked the door and went to my own floor-length mirror. I had to brace myself on its frame as I let go of control and let my excitement roll though me. I was breathing heavily, and looked at my flushed face. I brought my right hand to my nose and smelled Dan’s musky masculine scent, and, though very faint, it excited me incredibly. I quickly stripped and looked at my naked body, imagining it was Danny I was looking at.
I continued to sniff my hand and rubbed my breast with my other one, and remembered Dan’s gentle, frightened touch. I started to feel moisture build up in my crotch, and I rubbed my thighs together. I moaned as I started to feel the beginnings of my arousal. I mauled my breasts and pinched and pulled at my nipples, cooing in pleasure and excitement. I jumped into my bed face down, and started to frantically rub my pussy. I ran my hand beside my little button, not touching it directly, and continued pulling on my nipples.
I groaned as the orgasm was about to start. I brought my hand down to my crotch and collected some moisture to rub on my breasts. It felt so good, I couldn’t stand it. I was starting to lubricate profusely. In my mind, I imagined I was making love to Dan, or he was making love to me. Oddly enough the image was interchangeable, and I could be either. I sucked at the juices on my fingers and then brought them down again to my slit. I stuck two fingers into my outrageously wet pussy as I exploded in ecstasy. I buried my face in my pillow otherwise someone might hear me. The waves of pleasure washed over me again and again, and I moaned into the pillow.
After what felt like hours, the waves of ecstasy abated. I haven’t had sex with anyone yet - well, not all the way at least - but I’ve masturbated many times before. These were the strongest orgasms I’ve had. Ever. I put a pillow between my legs and squeezed on it, and had another mini-orgasm. I sighed, and fell into a light sleep, thoughts of Dan and me swirling in my mind.
***** (Daniel) *****
As soon as Danielle left, I leaped to the door and locked it. I threw off the blankets and jumped on my bed. I frantically pumped my dick, and it became as stiff as a rock. My head was filled with an image of me fucking my sister. Panting, I used my other hand to fondle my breasts. I was so turned on, I couldn’t believe it. I frantically looked around and saw the jar of hair styling gel on my dresser. I jumped up, grabbed the jar and jumped back to bed. I put some of the gel on my penis and rubbed it up and down frantically. I fancied that my fist had more to pump now. I pulled on my nipples as I read some women do, and I felt a jolt of pleasure. Like a trigger, that set me off and I shot my load. I experienced an incredible orgasm that felt like it lasted hours, though it probably only lasted a minute or two. But, even so, I never heard of anyone coming for two whole minutes. I felt my penis jerk and jerk as it spurted cum, which then landed on my belly. I whimpered, my high voice sounding like a little girl. I squeezed my left breast painfully as I spurted and spurted.
Amazingly, even after that incredible orgasm, I was still hard. I continued pumping my penis, but it wouldn’t come as quickly as before. I ran my free hand over my hips, my side, the tops of my thighs. But I couldn’t resist and brought my hand back to my breasts. I gently ran my hand over both of them, and arched my back in pleasure. I ran my hand through my hair and I rubbed my thighs together. I felt so sexy.
In my mind, I continued imagining me and Danielle together. Then I imagined Drew and Nikki with us. I was fondling all three. I felt my excitement grow. Without my conscious control, the movie in my head changed as Danielle and Drew moved into the background. I caressed Nikki and laid her on the floor. I spread her legs and gently entered her. In the real world, my penis twitched in my hand and knew that I was finally ready.
In my imagination, I started moving back and forth as I fucked Nikki. Danielle and Drew caressed my ass and my breasts and I felt my breath starting to come in short gasps. I imagined another set of hands, and in my mind’s peripheral vision, I saw Morgan in the nude, also caressing my body.
I was shocked yet I couldn’t stop. In the real world, I moved my hand in a faster tempo. My other hand caressed my breasts more brutally. It felt so good! I tweaked my left nipple, and like before, I erupted like a geyser. Oooh! My dick pulsed in rhythmic contractions, and I spurted and spurted. I almost screamed, but I bit my lower lip to keep from screaming, but I couldn't stop whimpering. Like before, it felt like it lasted ages. I was delirious with my self-induced pleasure, and I collapsed back onto my bed. Incredibly, I wasn't done yet, and went for another one. And then another.
Though I felt I could still go on, the urgency had disappeared. I decided to stop.
It felt so wonderful, and I felt a post-orgasm glow that I didn't feel before. And I knew I was still up for more. I thought back, and wondered why. In the past, after cumming, that was usually it for me, at least for a while. I could get used to this - daisy-chained orgasms. But I started to wonder if this was normal.
Reluctantly, I decided that that was it for the night. Maybe some other time, I'll explore the upper edges of this new "ability" of mine. Besides, I vaguely felt guilty, and felt a little dirty, wanking off over images of my own sister. Sorta like incest or something.
These thoughts were like a bucket of cold water, and killed off whatever remaining horniness was left or was building up again.
As I reluctantly stopped and came down from the orgasms, my breathing started to become normal. In my mind’s eye, I could see Nikki’s exhausted but happy smile. I wiped my brow, and swiped the sweaty hair from my face. I looked down and couldn’t believe it. My lower belly was covered by my sperm. I rubbed it into my skin, and brought some of it to my mouth. It didn’t taste so good but I found it incredibly erotic just the same.
I suddenly sat up. I started to feel around to check if I soiled the bed, and found that I hadn’t. I breathed a sigh of relief and got out of bed, being careful not to get cum on anything that would be stained, grabbed my shirt from the hamper and used it to wipe my hands, belly and breasts. I’ve masturbated before, but never like this. It felt like there must be buckets of it, though I was sure that it was only about a cup-full. But, you know, before, it would only be about a few tablespoons worth. I wondered if this too was normal.
I continued to wipe the stuff off me, and marveled at how alive I felt. I then thought of Danielle, and suddenly felt shame. I had jacked off to my sister. Even worse was Morgan. Good God. I was some sort of twisted pervert. I looked out the window, and thought about Danielle and Morgan, more than Nikki, actually. I tried to figure out what all this means. But one thing was definite: this was one story I am not telling Doctor Jessup.
I looked at my now-sticky shirt. I got a towel and a big terrycloth robe, and went to the bathroom. I left my shirt in the sink and had a thorough shower. When I felt clean, I stepped out of the stall and filled the sink to wash the shirt. I had to sort of scrape and squeeze the gobs of cum off into the toilet first though, and I shook my head in amazement a little.
After washing my shirt, I then draped it on the shower’s curtain rod, and finished squeezing and patting my hair dry - a routine that was now, with my now-longer hair, second nature. I wrapped the fluffy robe around me and padded downstairs to the washer-dryer.
Mom wasn’t around, and I wondered where she was. I ran my shirt through the dryer, pulled it out when it was done, folded it neatly and left it on top of the pile with my other newly-dried clothes that were ready for ironing. I then went to my room. I continued to dry my hair with the blowdryer Danielle bought me, and combed it out. Longer hair takes lots longer to dry, and more effort to comb out, so I took my time. No wonder girls went on and on about it. My brushing had fluffed it out too much - happens everytime - so I went to the bathroom and wetted it down a bit and combed my hair again, making it less poofy. I then put on a clean sports bra, a t-shirt and shorts, and sat cross-legged on my bed, thinking, alternating between shame and a wonderful afterglow. How could I possibly face Danielle now? And Morgan? I hugged my knees and slightly rocked myself.
I heard Mom and Dad come in. From where I did not know. Mom knocked on my door, asking me to come down for dinner. I heard her knock on Danielle’s door, too. I dreaded seeing Danielle, but was more afraid of not going and making my family think something’s going on. I went down.
Mom gave me a hung and a kiss, and I sat at my usual place. Dad patted my shoulder as he sat down, and Mom started putting out cardboard boxes from our favorite Chinese takeout on the table. I didn’t have much of an appetite, thinking about Danielle. Mom felt my forehead and asked if I was okay. “I’m fine, Mom,” I said, and reached out randomly for a cardboard box. It turned out to be crab rice, and I stuck my chopsticks in and started to eat. Mom’s fears were allayed and she went back to eating. Mom explained that she didn’t have time to cook. She had to pick up Dad because he had somehow left his car lights on, and couldn’t get it started to go home. I shrugged, and told her I didn’t mind takeout.
Danielle came in, her hair combed back and tied into a messy ponytail. She had changed into a very loose button-down shirt over shorts and socks, and looked rested and very, very cheerful. She looked like someone from one of those vacation travel ads. She practically glowed.
She gave Mom and Dad a hug, bussed my cheek and sat down beside me, uncomfortably close as usual. I raised an eyebrow at her and she looked at me quizzically. I shrugged and went back to my rice. I sniffed a little bit, and smelled something a little musky. Nothing major, but something definitely out of the ordinary. It was very faint, actually, and I wondered if it was just my imagination. I sniffed at my fried rice, but all I could smell from it was the green onions. The others didn’t seem to notice anything. After all, it was extremely faint. I sniffed again. It seemed to be coming from Danielle. I looked at her cheerfully stuffing her face but she didn’t notice my stare this time - she was concentrating on her food, not to mention the twin distractions of Mom and Dad talking to her.
My eyes went wide. Danielle smelled like sex! Was she messing around at the same time I was? I inhaled deeply, and the family looked up at me. I was suddenly embarrassed, and turned my inhalation into an exaggerated yawn.
“Sleepy, son?” Dad asked.
“A little,” I lied. “It’s been a long day.”
“How did your doctor’s appointment go today?”
“Same old same-old.”
“Is she helping?” Mom asked.
“I guess. She makes sense and all. But, I guess I’m having a hard time accepting everything.”
Danielle looked at me with compassion. “It’s alright, Dan. It’s gonna be okay. Give it time.”
I nodded my head. I was uncomfortably aware of her hand on my arm.
“That’s right, son. Give it time.”
“Okay.”
The rest of the dinner went as usual, except for my surreptitious stares at Danielle, and her goofy smiles at me. I was dying to know what she was thinking.
Cleanup was a breeze this time, because Mom just dumped the boxes in the trash.
“Tadah!” she said, gesturing at the suddenly-clean kitchen. Of course, no one was there anymore except for me. So I applauded her before going back upstairs.
The following day was a Saturday. After our regular weekend jog, a shower and then breakfast, Danielle wanted me to join her and her friends to go shopping. I begged off and said I was doing something with the guys. She looked at me a little funny, a little wistfully actually, but didn’t argue for once. She gave me one of her big-sister hug-and-a-kiss things and flounced out with Nikki and Drew. I breathed a sigh of relief and hurried to call Morgan to invent something to do today. Just in case.
Ironically, we ended up shopping, too. I was carrying a couple of CDs, one with Alanis Morissette’s “Hands Clean” (from the Sale bin) and another Santana’s new album, and Morgan had a pair of old-style Nike Shox, also from the discount bin. And then we bumped into Danielle, Nikki and Drew. Danielle was loaded down with lots of parcels as usual, as were Nikki and Drew. Morgan offered to carry Drew’s. Not wanting to be outdone, I offered to carry Nikki’s, and Danielle automatically handed me Nikki's stuff along with hers. I staggered around a bit and Nikki giggled.
I suggested dropping the stuff in my car, and then go and have a bite. We ended up in the food court, with me and Morgan each ordering a humungous pizza, and the girls ordering salads. Danielle was giving my pizza longing looks, so I smiled and put two big slices on her plate. She kissed my cheek and attacked the food.
“You’re so sweet,” Nikki said. I smiled in delight that she noticed, but it soon turned into a frown when she patted my head like you would a puppy.
The conversation was nothing special - just the usual stuff we talked about. After a while, Morgan started talking about his new hobby - collecting MP3 files over the web. He moaned about DRM, and how most of his favorite links were now dead or blocked. I didn’t tell the girls it was me who introduced him to surfing for MP3 downloads, and let him have the limelight. I listened to him, resting my chin on my hand, and marveled at his soft yet masculine voice. I couldn’t help but be envious, me with the chipmunk voice. He gestured in the air, making his points with wide gestures. He really knew how to express himself.
I jerked up suddenly. “What am I doing, mooning over Morgan!” I thought. I blamed the Doc for putting the idea in my head. I excused myself to go to the restroom and splash water on my face. When I came back, the conversation had turned to school stuff, and how Nikki was having trouble with history. I offered to help her. Danielle elbowed me and gave me a wink. I gave her a moist raspberry. Raspberry? What was I, six?
Nikki pulled on my sleeve and said, in a very soft and meek little-girl voice, that she’d appreciate any help. Of course I made a study date for the coming weekend, and she nodded acceptance and offered to make popcorn. Danielle elbowed me again, and I elbowed her back. She let out a loud “ouch.”
*****
Eight: Nighthawk
***** (Danny) *****
Towards the end of school, some of us in our homeroom were recommended to take internships for the summer. Sort of to get some extra credit and offset any deficiencies in our records. For me, it was because of gym. Per my guidance counselor’s advice, and because of my interest in music, I decided to do something in media, but all of the juicy internships were already taken. Danielle and a few others from her homeroom had already gotten the few available internship spots in our local TV affiliate. And the others had already gotten into the only local papers that were giving out internships. I didn’t really want to try anything except in media, so I persisted in looking for something else. From my guidance counselor, I heard about an opening in KRPQ that no one had gotten wind of yet. That was because no one from the radio station went to the school to talk about the opening. Why, I didn’t know.
So I went and tried out as a production assistant - someone who’s supposed to answer the phones for the DJ or host, queue up commercials and stuff, and act as the go-between for the DJ and the public.
It was incredibly boring. And the station was the pits. Rundown office at the edge of town. Minimal staff. Five disk jockeys. Or rather, spinners. An empty receptionist’s desk. Crappy seventies equipment. No CD players, for God’s sake! Control panel on an old pool table, and homemade wiring. Jesus!
I was interning for this disk jockey, Lou Jefferson II, who everyone called Jeff, but he didn’t give me much to do. He was more a spinner than a DJ. He just queued LPs (LPs for god’s sake! Talk about ancient!) and played them. Why they had a microphone in there I don’t know.
And calls? What calls? I didn’t do anything the whole time. But the station did have an excellent collection of seventies and eighties records, most of them in pristine condition, clear of any scratches, pops and crackles. I bought an old turntable and used my old Xing MPEG/MP3 ripper to create my own MP3 versions. I used 360K encoding to preserve the nuances of the music. My current 5 gigs of stuff was growing. In a couple of week’s time, I had several extra gigs of MP3s. Which translated into about eight hundred more songs in my Sony Vaio.
It was here at the station that I got that break. During that one fateful night, Jefferson stepped out of the booth to go get a Coke or something. I asked him if I could go through the records in the booth, and he laconically said yes. I went in, and made the mistake of closing the door. It clicked shut.
I turned at the sound, and made to open the door. The knob didn’t turn, and I started to panic. I seem to remember someone telling me the door couldn’t be opened from the inside without a key. I rattled the door again and it was truly and irrevocably locked. I heard a dull thump and saw through the glass that Jefferson had crumpled to the floor. I started banging on the glass.
“Help! Anyone, help!” I hammered on the double-glazed semi-soundproof glass and door for what seemed like an eternity, and, by chance, the night watchman came into the room.
“Hey, Jeff,” the night watchman said, “what’s up?” He saw Jefferson on the floor and ran to him.
“I think he had some kind of fit!” I yelled through the glass.
He looked up from what he was doing and saw me. “Who’re you? And what are you doing in there?”
“Never mind that! Call nine-one-one, quick!” He ran to the phone on the empty receptionist’s desk and punched the numbers.
“Goddamnit, it’s a recording,” he slammed the receiver down.
“Go to the coat rack, and go through my jacket pocket. Get the keys. My car is the beat-up mustang parked outside. Get him to the emergency room. Hurry!”
He lifted Jeff in a fireman’s carry, grunting under the weight. “No more doughnuts for you, man.” He looked to me. “Okay, little dude. You hold the fort. Me and Jeff are going to the hospital.”
“Okay, man,” I gave him a thumbs up, and he staggered out the door. I felt relieved, and remembered. “Hey, wait! You forgot the…” The door slammed shut. “lock…”
I suddenly realized that I was trapped and alone in the office. “Shit, oh shit, oh shit. Now what?” I looked at the turntable and the needle on the old LP. It had already gone through all the tracks, and it was on the last one. What to do? I looked at the large pool table-cum-mixing board. No phone - the only one inside the booth only allows incoming calls, as far as I can tell (I had tried it already). I casted about in the hopes of coming up with another way out of this.
Jeezus! What a polish firedrill this is turning out to be. I looked at the turntable in panic. Okay, I said to myself, no choice. I took a deep breath and started to thumb through the LPs. Nothing new that I can see. Wait a minute, what was I expecting? These are LPs, after all, dammit. I pawed through everything, nothing catching my eye, so I started going through them again, this time a lot slower.
I saw an album sleeve in fairly good condition. “Hmm.” It was from John Cougar Mellencamp. That rings a bell. “Let’s see,” I mumbled, and went though the tracks. Okay let’s try this.
I took out the album and laid it on the other turntable. I identified the correct track and gently laid the needle at the beginning. I lightly stroked the surface of what I thought was the player’s power switch and kept my other hand on the mike’s toggle switch, setting the aux volume to about three-fourths of the maximum, hoping that was right. I hummed a few cords and tried to find a good voice to use. I settled for a variation of my regular guy-voice but higher, with a touch more gravel, and decided to give this guy a lot of attitude.
I waited for the music to die down, and when the needle scratched out the last of the music, I took a deep breath and switched on.
“Heeeeyah!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, and spoke over the bed of the song. “The Nighthawk checkin’ in, first time on KRPQ, with all the golden oldies at my fingertips, spinnin’ the disks for ya from now ‘til the break o’ dawn.” How’s that for retro?
I took a breath. “Now, here’s a pop quiz for ya. Try and guess who sang this eighties classic, and if you guess right, you win a prize. What’s the prize, you ask? Five free tickets to the next show of Unlimited Bandwidth, at Mario’s downtown. But you don’t get your hands on them until you gimme a call. First to guess right wins. And the number is 555-2878. Go for it, kiddies!”
I hadn’t though of the spiel, it sort of came out automatically. Nighthawk. Now, where did that come from? I thought a little bit, and I remembered a program I once saw in a rerun, and the lead character was an ex-cop turned radio talkshow host, and his radio name was The Nighthawk. My hind brain was giving my forebrain some help, it seems.
“A little ditty about Jack and Diane,” sang John Cougar. “About two American kids growin’ up in the heartland.”
While the song played, I quickly flipped through the albums, and couldn’t find another appropriate song.
“Suckin’ on a chilidog outside the Tastee Freez, Diane sitting on Jackie’s lap, his hands between his knees.”
I picked up a newer album. Jeez, I didn’t know Counting Crows released an LP. I cued up the track I wanted.
“Oh, yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill of livin’ is gone.” Yeah, baby, I thought. I dig it.
“Jackie sits back, collects his thoughts for a moment. Scratches his head and does his best James Dean.
“‘Well, there, Diane, we gotta run off to the city.’ Diane says, ‘Baby, you ain’t missin’ a thing’.
“Jackie says, ‘oh, yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill of livin’ is gone. Oh, yeah,’ he say, ‘life goes on, long after the thrill of livin’ is gone.’”
I looked over the board, familiarizing myself with the placement of all the switches and buttons, and checked the time. I wiped the sweat off my brow and tried to groove on the music.
“A little ditty about Jack and Diane. Two American kids doin’ the best that they can.”
When the music faded away, I smoothly segued into my spiel. “Nuh-uh, folks. That ain’t no Jessica Simpson. That’s the true-blue original. No one’s called, yet. Come on, someone out there must know who sang the song? Well, while you guys exercise your gray matter, let me lay another tune on ya. Here’s Counting Crows with ‘Mister Jones.’”
I pressed the switch on the other turntable, while smoothly turning off the other.
“Shalalalalalala, uh huh.”
Jeez, I thought. This is gonna be some rollercoaster ride. Bouts of sheer terror every three minutes or so. I decided to start putting albums aside.
I had a few hits on the phone, though. Some people asking me who I was, or asking for specific songs, or asking to be put on the air. Some were also asking about the contest, so I played Jack and Dianne again, and told them something about Unlimited Bandwidth. I grinned to myself. Free commercial, hey-hey.
It was that way the whole night, and I was getting bushed. I finally sighed in relief when Jefferson’s sub promptly showed up. Eight hours later…
The next day, the school was abuzz with the latest news. I didn’t pick up on it right away as I was staggering around the hallway half asleep. Dad had picked me up but we only got home at about three in the morning. I had gotten less than three hours of sleep.
It was a good thing that Goodwin, the security guard, called me at the booth from the hospital, and I asked him to let my folks know I was trapped in the radio station but was okay. Otherwise I probably would have been grounded for life.
Danielle and my mom had stayed up late to listen to me. Dad called me in the booth to tell me he’d pick me up but he got lost trying to find the station. He ended up getting there about ten minutes after I turned over the mike to Jefferson’s relief tech. When he drove me back home, he told me that he listened to me on the car radio the whole time, and said I sounded like a totally different person. And he asked me that, if I couldn’t use the phone, why didn’t I tell anyone on the air that I was trapped in the booth or something. I looked at him, mouth agape. And all I heard in my head was me saying, over and over, “stupidstupidstupidstupidstupid…”
Anyway, the only time I finally tumbled to the news going around school was when I heard the name “Nighthawk.”
It was after final period, and everyone was dumping stuff in their lockers before going home or to hang with friends. I heard the magic name again.
“Huh?” I said. Danielle was about to interrupt the two guys (nerds, unfortunately) talking about the new DJ as they fiddled around in their lockers, but I elbowed her in the ribs. She let out a painful “ooff!” and gave me a dirty look. I shushed her and we eavesdropped in on their conversation.
“When Dean called and asked me to tune in to this station that he stumbled onto, I was so blown away! I can’t believe it, that Nighthawk is one cool disk jockey,” said the taller one.
“Yup! Dean called me, too. Way cool! And the music. Man, no other station has the balls to play those old tunes anymore.”
“I know, but the Nighthawk has cool tastes. Eight solid hours of eighties new wave and pop. It’s amazing! I can’t wait to tune in again tonight.”
One of the girls behind them said, “Hey, you listened to the Nighthawk, too?”
“Yeah!” said the taller one.
“My girlfriend told me about her! I never did get the answer though. You know, the singer of that Jessica Simpson song?”
The shorter one snorted. “That one’s easy! John Mellencamp! When he was still calling himself John Cougar Mellencamp. ‘Jack and Dianne’ was one of the sleeper hits of the early eighties. Jessica Simpson just stole the beat.”
What a nerd, I thought, but the girl responded. “Yeah? I thought it was the other way around. That this guy was the one who copied Jessica Simpson.”
The shorter one rolled his eyes. “No, no!” He gave his buddy a look, and said under his breath, “Cheerleaders!”
The girl huffed at him. “Listen, Mr. Know-it-all, if you’re so smart, why didn’t you call her?”
He just blushed and looked down.
The girl went on. “Anyway, what I’d like to know is where’d she get all of those tunes? I haven’t heard of half of them, but they’re all cool!”
The shorter nerd went on with his lecture on contemporary pop music history, and walked down the hall. The girl, amazingly, was paying attention. This may be the start of a beautiful friendship. Hey, anything can happen!
I then stopped in my tracks. Wait a minute, I thought. She said, ‘Her!’ I gave Danielle a shocked look, and she gave me a mirror-image look. Her mouth started to twitch and she dissolved into laughter. I gave her an evil look, as her friends came over.
“Okay, okay, let us in on the funny,” Drew said.
I poked Danielle in the ribs again, trying to make her stop. “I, umm, we, that is, umm, were talking about this radio program that we heard last night…”
“Yeah?” said Drew. “The Nighthawk, right? Morgan couldn’t stop talking about her.” She pointed her thumb at my buds, who were walking towards us, animatedly talking. About the Nighthawk, no doubt.
“So what do you think about the ‘Nighthawk?’” Danielle asked the girls, and giggled.
“Oh, she plays really great music,” Mel said. “But that sex kitten act gets really old after a while.”
Danielle snickered and made scratching motions like a cat with a grudge. “Meoww!” said Danielle.
“Hey, I’m not being catty! I just feel that she could have found a better gimmick.”
I tried to figure it out. Why did people think I was a girl, when I had tried to make my voice sound like a guy’s? And I wasn’t trying to be sexy, no matter what Danielle said.
“Listen,” said Danielle. “I’m just gonna drop off some stuff in my locker. Meet you guys out front?”
“Kay.”
Danielle and I walked out, and I saw Goodwyn the security guard lounging around. He saw me, and gave a piercing whistle. He waved us over.
“That’s Goodwyn,” I told Danielle, “the security guard from the station. The guy who brought the spinner to the hospital?”
Danielle nodded as we walked to the parking lot.
“Hey, little dude. Here’s your car back. Told ya I’d take care of it!” He threw the keys at me. “Who’s this?” Goodwyn raised an eyebrow in appreciation.
“She’s my sister, Danielle,” I said, not bothering to introduce him. I rubbed the hood of my car, and my finger slid off the slick surface. “Thanks, man!” I said. “What did you do? Get it waxed?”
“Not me, dude,” he said, and gestured to the passenger seat.
A tall lady stepped out of my passenger door. She was an extremely attractive older lady dressed in a very well-tailored designer business suit, the gray skirt and jacket obviously made of some expensive soft material.
“So, you must be Danny,” she said in a low but melodious voice, “the boy who saved my station last night.” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Mrs. Melody Piper, the new owner of KRPQ.”
I automatically shook hands with her, and introduced Danielle.
She smiled at Danielle and then turned to me. “Dan,” she said, “I won’t beat around the bush. I want to thank you for your help last night, and I apologize for any inconvenience that you might have experienced.”
I dismissed her apologies. “That’s okay. I enjoyed myself last night. I hope I didn’t cause any trouble.”
Mrs. Piper laughed. “Not at all. In fact, I was so impressed with your performance last night that I have a business proposition for you. I was wondering if I can treat you to dinner so we can talk about it?”
Danielle and I looked at each other. “Of course, your sister is welcome to join us,” Mrs. Piper said.
Danielle looked at me and shrugged. “I don’t know, Mrs. Piper. We have to talk to our parents, first.”
“Of course.” She snapped her fingers and a uniformed chauffer was suddenly at her elbow, handing her a cellphone. She flipped it open and handed it to me.
I called the house and explained to Mom. She was as surprised as us, but said it was okay, so it was up to the both of us, but asked us to be back before eight.
I handed back the phone, and said okay.
“Excellent,” she said. “Why don’t you follow me in your car? I know this great place downtown.” She walked to a shiny black limousine, and got in. The driver closed her door, got in himself and drove to the street, waiting. I didn’t see Goodwyn the security guard anymore. I guess he went back to the station.
I nodded to Danielle, and she went to the guys to tell them to go ahead. I parked my car behind the limo, and waited for Danielle. As soon as she got in, the limo pulled out, and we followed.
Soon, we were pulling up to a ritzy bistro not far from Mario’s. We got out, and a valet parked the car for us. We went in and were ushered to a large booth by the big picture window facing the street. Mrs. Piper smiled her welcome and gestured us to sit.
“Come, come. Sit down. I hope you like Italian.” She gestured to the waitress to bring a couple of menus.
I nodded. “Oh, sure Mrs. Piper. Thank you.” Danielle nodded her agreement.
“So,” she said, “Daniel and Danielle. Quite unusual choice of names. Was it your parents’ choice?”
“Hell, no,” I exclaimed. Danielle kicked my shin. “Ow!”
“What Dan means,” Danielle explained, “is that it wasn’t our parents’ choice. Our uncle Nathan thought up the names. He thought it appropriate, with us being twins and all.”
“I see.” She nodded. “It does seem to suit the both of you.”
“Thank you,” Danielle said demurely.
“Yes, indeed. The two of you seem to be cut from the same cloth. Like real twins.”
“Umm, we are twins.” I put an arm around Danielle’s shoulders. “Fraternal twins, though, not identical.”
“Well, you look enough like each other that you could actually be identical twins.”
“Nahh. I don’t look anything close to Danielle.”
“Yeah. Otherwise, I’d be insulted,” Danielle said and giggled.
The waitress came back with humungous menus. I could practically hide behind it. I looked at the prices and was shocked.
“Well, what will you kids be having?” Mrs. Piper asked.
“Umm, I don’t know...” I looked over to Danielle, but she was looking back to me. I gave her a questioning look, and she shrugged. I looked for the cheapest entrée they had, but everything was so expensive.
She gave us a few more moments, and then asked if she could order for us. She waved a waiter over this time, and ordered the seafood carbonara for herself, and ordered angel hair pasta with the house sauce, german sausages, pepperoni and peppers for the two of us. We looked at each other. “Don’t worry - I’m sure you’ll like it a lot. It’s the favorite of my, umm, friend. She’s the one who introduced me to the place.”
The service was prompt, and we were soon digging in. “Mama mia,” I said in my best Italian Godfather voice, and went on about how good it was, all with an Italian accent. I smacked my lips on my fingers.
“Grazzi,” said the waiter with a flourish and a smile.
“Prego,” I said playfully.
Mrs. Piper was smiling in delight. “How do you do that?” she asked. “There I was this morning, hearing from Mr. Jefferson that the one on the radio last night was a boy, and wondered how anyone can change their voice like that, and here you are doing it so effortlessly.”
Danielle giggled. “Oh, Dan has a lot more voices. Let her hear some of the funnier ones, Danny.”
I switched to my Brad Pits voice. “Oh, it’s nothing. Nothing but sheer talent and a lot of attitude.” I winked at Danielle. “Right, babe?” Danielle giggled.
Mrs. Piper was grinning in delight. “Wonderful! Do you have any more?”
I switched to Bimbo Betty. “I can, like, do millions of ‘em! It’s, like, rilly rilly easy! And, it’s, like, so fun, to do voices and stuff!” I stared at Mrs. Piper with wide eyes and a vacant smile, playing the blonde airhead to the hilt.
Mrs. Piper clapped. “I can hardly believe it. That’s very good!”
I looked down in false modesty. “Well, I’ve been doing my Brad Pits and Bimbo Betty voices for years, now. Mostly for fun. I can switch ‘em on and off.”
She laughed. “Those are really funny names. How about that voice you used last night? Did you have that prepared before you went on the air?”
I had a sheepish look. “Umm, well, not really. It was a spur of the moment thing.” Danielle laughed at me. I shushed her, but she wasn’t paying any attention.
“Oh, Mrs. Piper. Danny really screwed up!” She couldn’t hold on to her laughter and broke down again.
She looked at Danielle a little quizzically. Danielle tried to control it a little. “Dan was, you know, trying something new, and he made a really big mistake. He was trying to sound like a macho DJ, but he ended up sounding like a girl!” She broke up again.
“Is that true, Dan?”
I looked down a little sheepishly. “Well… yeah?”
“Oh. Well, that’s all right. You sounded really lovely on the air.” I felt depressed. Mrs. Piper quickly picked up on it, and tried to cheer me up. She talked about herself, and how she came to own the station. She had a fund of really funny stories, and it got Danielle and me giggling. The best one that I can recall was her story of when she was an up-and-coming executive, and, just before leaving for work for a conference with a client one day, her baby accidentally tipped a mug of coffee on her, ruining the clothes she was wearing. She ended up going to the office in a pair of tight slacks and tight tank top that she had to borrow from her babysitter. “I thought that by putting on a blazer on top, it would hide the shirt,” she said. “But every time I had to bend down, the blazer would come open and everyone would catch a glimpse of me and the tight-fitting shirt. Good thing though the client was a dirty old man. I ended up closing the deal!”
Danielle was giggling around a mouthful of pasta, and I gave her a look. “Oops,” she said faintly, and hastily swallowed the food.
“So…” Mrs. Piper began as the waiters cleared away our plates, and we started on our desserts. “What I wanted to talk with you, Dan, was a job offer. To work for me and be my evening DJ at the station.”
“Umm, Mrs. Piper. I’m really flattered that you offered, but I don’t know if our parents would approve.”
“Why in heavens not?”
“Well, it might affect my schoolwork, and our Dad wouldn’t like that.”
Mrs. Piper nodded. “Hmm, I can understand that, myself being a parent, too.”
We were all silent for a moment. We continued eating our food. Danielle had a slice of cake while I had a big banana boat ice cream platter. Mrs. Piper was sipping on an espresso.
She snapped her fingers and put down the cup. “I got it. How about we have you on the air for, say, a couple of hours in the evening only - maybe only twice a week during the weekday, and maybe one program on the weekends.
Danielle and I were sort of nodding. Mrs. Piper could probably feel that we were about to cave in, and sweetened the offer.
So we talked about it some more. Danielle was so impressive in that meeting. Up to then, she didn’t have much to contribute. But when it came time to talk turkey, she took over. It reminded me of a big ferocious bird protecting her little chick, me being the little chick, of course. And I ended up with the sweetest deal that I could ever have come up with. She played the part of my manager perfectly! In the end, Mrs. Piper was talking to her more than to me. And after a long session of haggling, the two of them shook hands, and I looked at her in wonder.
Later, as I drove us back home, I couldn’t help but look at my sister in a different light. The two of us went over the salient points of the meeting, and agreed on what to tell Mom and Dad. The deal required their approval, after all.
Two thousand dollars a month to do two two-hour early-evening shows during the workweek plus one early Saturday morning. Plus two special shows per month at most, for special events and whatever, with at least a week’s advance notice beforehand.
Two grand ain’t bad, I thought. Especially for thirty or so easy hours of work a month. Especially for a school kid. And Especially since I would have a substantial allowance to cover expenses and things, so long as I turn over receipts. The package also included medical and insurance. As well as getting my ‘Stang fixed up. Yay! ‘Course, I was required to stay in my Nighthawk persona while working… Darn… I guess Mrs. Piper was desperate for a quick boost in her ratings, and I was probably the most convenient way to do that. Not to mention cheap.
Danielle and I thought that it would be hard to sell Dad on the thing. So we agreed to double-team Mom first and let her take care of Dad. We pulled into our driveway. The other car was still out, meaning Dad wasn’t home, yet.
We found Mom cooking up a mess of tomato sauce, peppers, sausages, ground beef and bacon bits. She was making her special Crunchy Spaghetti Sauce and, before you laugh, all I can say is don’t knock it until you taste it. Even though we just had a hefty pasta dinner, Danielle and I will be having a second one tonight. Especially since it was Mom’s Crunchy Spaghetti. Danielle and I crowded around her, and told her all about our meeting.
She struggled to understand our excited babble, but in the end, she seemed to decipher our noise only as our mom can. “Are you sure you want this, Dan?” She asked in the end.
“Yeah, Mom! We want to do it!” I said.
She nodded at that, and hugged me. “Okay, then,” she said. Danielle clapped her hands in glee.
We heard a car pull up in the driveway. “Dad’s home!” Danielle cried and rushed to open the door. Mom and I went to follow, and then I stopped short. Wait a minute. Now, why did I say “We?” I thought over what that meant as I slowly went out to greet Dad.
So. Dad insisted on meeting Mrs. Piper before agreeing to “this fool scheme”, so Mom asked us to invite her to dinner the following day. They found her friendly and interesting. Mom did her best to prepare a very nice meal of salad, steak and potatoes, and Dad bought a fairly expensive bottle of red wine that went well with the meal. The lady was going to be my boss after all, and trying to impress her a little was more than OK. In turn, Mrs. Piper was appropriately complimentary. She wasn’t just being nice. Dinner was excellent. Over coffee and cake, Mrs. Piper offered to show them around the station once the remodeling is finished.
We walked her out as her stretch limo pulled up. Mom and Dad were duly impressed. Dad and I shook her hand and she bussed Danielle and Mom, thanking us for a wonderful meal and a wonderful evening.
Dad had his arms around Danielle and me as the car pulled away.
“So?” I asked. “What do you think?”
“I think I like your new boss,” said Dad, and looked over us to Mom, smiling.
It took us a moment to realize what he meant, and we both jumped for joy.
“Yes!” I high-fived Dad.
I started working a couple of Saturdays later. My car was unavailable since, true to her word, Mrs. Piper had it in the shop, and was having it tuned, as well as getting bodywork done on it. So, no car for a week or two. On that first day of work, Morgan gave me a ride to the station on his motorbike, but rushed off saying he needed a couple more hundred hours of sleep. That was OK since Joanne agreed to bring me home later in time for band practice.
I got off, took off my helmet, strapped it to the little luggage rack at the end of the seat, and gave him a hug before letting him go home. That spontaneous gesture made me pause and wonder at my behavior. But Morgan seemed to take it as a normal thing... I shook my head as if to clear it, slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked into the building. The sun wasn’t out yet, and it was a little nippy. I buttoned up my jacket.
By that time, my friends all knew that the Nighthawk was me, but I made them swear to secrecy. The only ones I worried about were Mickey and Joanne. But Betsy sweet-talked Joanne, and Mongo threatened Mickey just by his menacing presence, so both agreed not to breathe a word.
The guard had my company ID all ready and I pinned it on my jacket before getting into the elevator. I went up to the seventh, and was confronted with the same old radio studio. This time, I checked the door - yup: it's been locked open.
I nodded to Dennis, the guy who had the midnight shift. We shook hands and he welcomed me on board. Mrs. Piper had prepped the staff about me, and they all agreed to keep mum about the situation. I didn’t know how to deal with Dennis, so I just remained neutral but polite.
I sat at the panel and checked everything out. There were a couple more minutes to the song, so I had time to set up. I pulled out my old Vaio laptop out of my pack, plugged in the power supply, and got the PC’s audio jacks plugged into the board. I booted up and opened a WinAmp window. I opened up the M3U file I set up last night, where I listed those songs I got from the station (with some from my own collection), and that I had sampled at 360K.
I settled into the seat, but decided not to take off my jacket in the unheated booth. Just before Dennis’s song ran out, I queued up the first file.
I pressed the Enter key, and turned on the mike.
“Hey-hey-hey,” I said over the music bed, in a very low-key but sexy voice, barely above a whisper. “Guess who’s on the air, live on KRPQ? Yes, it is, cats and kitties. It’s the Nighthawk, wakin’ you up on this nice and cool Saturday morning. Better get used to me, babes, I’m gonna be in your ear from now on. Speakin’ of which, give a listen to this seventies classic. Here’s the Isely Brothers with ‘Harvest for the World.’”
I let the PC run and thumbed through the LPs, pulling out albums I liked. Like the ones by Phil Collins and Hall and Oates, intending to copy some of them into MP3s later.
As the song wound down, I decided to get some audience participation.
“There ya go, ladies and gents. But you know, I’m getting’ a little lonely here, all alone on the airwaves this early in the morning. How about giving me a call and keep me company, hey? The number’s 555-2878. Call me up and give me your requests, and I’ll see if I can play them for ya.” I pressed the Enter key.
“In the meantime, here’s another tune for ya: Meja, with ‘All ‘bout the Money.’”
“Sometimes, I find another world inside my mind,” sang Meja. “when I realize the crazy things we do. It makes me feel ashamed to be alive. It makes me wanna run away and hide… It’s all ‘bout the money. It’s all ‘bout the dum-dum dududum-dum.’”
I queued up “Happy Hour” by the House Martins, and I had the place rockin’ to the eighties idea of the sixties. I was happily singing along, “…what a good place to be - don’t believe her, oh no…,” when the phone rang.
I lifted the headset. “I’m putting you on hold for just a sec,” I said. “Don’t hang up.” I let the song fade out, and then flipped a switch, putting the call on the air.
“KRPQ,” I said into the receiver. “It’s the Nighthawk in your ear. ‘Sup?”
“Hello?” A timid voice said over the phone. “Is this the Nighthawk?”
‘Well, duh?’ I said to myself. But I remained polite. “Yes, it is,” I said aloud. “And you are on the air. What can I do you for?”
The guy chuckled a bit. “I don’t believe it. I’m on the air with the Nighthawk.”
“Believe it, dude. What’s your name?”
“I’m Jim. I live here in the valley.”
“Cool. If I look through the window, I’d probably be able to see your house from here.”
Jim chuckled at that little joke. “Well, I joined that contest of yours? The one with the John Mellencamp song? Well, I didn’t win.”
“Don’t feel too bad. No one won that one, actually.”
“Well, I never heard of that band that you mentioned. Unlimited Bandwidth. Well, we were curious so my friends and I decided to catch their gig last weekend over at Mario’s downtown. Lemme tell you, it was excellent!”
“It was?”
“Yeah! The music was excellent. And their choice of songs were great. And they have this part of their show where they allow the customers to pick the songs. It was great!”
“Well, I gotta tell you,” I said. “These guys are close friends of mine. I’ll be sure to tell them about you, Jim.”
“You are? Well, you gotta introduce me to their lead singer. That’s one hot little number!”
“Ummm,” I was caught with nothing to say.
“Do you know if she has a boyfriend?”
I decided to take the safe route “I think so. One of her classmates in school, I think.”
“Damn! Well, that’s no surprise. Too bad.”
“This is getting a leeettle awkward, to say the least. I gotta cut this in the bud,” I thought. I suddenly had a bright idea, and started looking through my MP3 files. “Listen, dude. Thanks for the call. And since you like them so much, I have something special for you. I have a live recording from one of their recent gigs, hope you like it.”
“Thanks, babe. Oh, and I hope you have a great show.”
“Thank you, Jim. Catch you on the flip side.”
I hung up the phone, and clicked the Enter key. “Check this out, y’all!”
Janet’s soft guitar playing, accompanied by Mongo’s impeccably-timed drums drifted out of my PC, June’s soft synthesized notes segueing in. And then I heard myself crooning the song, “Sway,” by Bic Runga.
The two hours went by really fast. In keeping with the retro image of the station, I played mostly eighties or early nineties songs, all of them from my collection. Songs like “Only Wanna Be With You” by Hootie and the Blowfish, “Cars and Girls” by Prefab Sprout, Vonda Shepard’s version of “The Power of Two”, “Tenderness” by General Public, plus some fairly new ones - “Deep” by Binocular, “Roll To Me” by Del Amitri, and “Unforgivable Sinner” by Lene Marlin. And some hard-to-find pop oldies like “Waiting For a Star To Fall” by Boy Meets Girl (from the soundtrack of that baby movie).
I couldn’t resist sneaking in some of my fairly-new top-twenty favorites, though, like “A Thousand Miles” by Vanessa Carlton, “Complicated” by Avril Lavigne, and “Carcrashes” by Standfast.
And, like our gigs, I ended my first program with “Everywhere” by Michelle Branch. I guess you guys know by now that I have a crush on Michelle Branch. Hey, what can I say? Maybe I'll play something from The Wreckers next time.
I spoke on the air more than I expected to. Seems like there were a lot of people out there who wanted to get to talk to me. Mostly young kids my age, but with a few older types. And mostly guys. Jeez.
The spinner that was scheduled after me checked in promptly at eight. (Which I found out later was an almost unheard-of event. I guess the new boss was tougher than she looked.) The girls were set to pick me up at about nine, so that gave me an hour to rip some new MP3s. I rubbed my hands in glee as I contemplated which songs I’d rip first, but I felt my stomach grumble. I thumbed through the book and tried to find someone who delivered this early in the morning.
What I found was a little Mexican place about a couple of blocks down from the station, though it was still closed at the time. I begged the nice Hispanic lady on the phone, who was apparently also the owner, and I was soon eating a couple of humungous burritos, a special taco that was at least three times the size of a normal one, plus a hot chocolate and an orange juice (hey, I was hungry - at least the juice and the chocolate made the meal sort of feel like breakfast). I was sweating a little bit, what with the now-heated room and the hot chocolate, but it felt okay. A good kind of warmth, especially after the unheated booth.
I was singing along with the Doobie Brothers, in “What a Fool Believes,” headphones on my head and a dripping taco in my hand. Jake, the spinner was looking through the booth at me, smiling, but not bothering to stop me. I grinned at him and continued singing around a mouthful of Mexican goodness.
I continued pawing through the LPs, and was in the middle of transferring Hall and Oates’ “Kiss on My List,” when someone put their hands over my eyes.
“Yaahh!” I yelled in surprise, and fell backwards. I saw Danielle, Nikki, Janet, Joanne and Mel looking downwards at me, Joanne with a guilty look on her face.
“Hey, guys,” I said fuzzily through the stars circling my head, and then they broke out laughing. I raised a quizzical eyebrow and then noticed that I still had the taco in my hand, raised like a flag.
“Hey! I was eating!” Danielle looked hungrily at my taco and I hastily popped the whole wad into my mouth.
“Eww, Danny you’re a pig!” exclaimed Mel.
“Mmm!” I said, and Danielle swatted my head.
“Selfish pig!” Danielle added.
They helped me up, as well as helped themselves to the remainder of my food. I wasn’t hurt, really. Just a bit stunned. Not even a bump on the head.
“Well,” Janet said. “Now that you’ve eaten, does this mean you won’t be joining us for breakfast?”
“Hell, no! Just give me a sec to get my shit together, and we can boogie on outta here.” I disconnected my PC from the player, turned off everything, jammed my stuff in my pack, and threw what was left of my breakfast into the trash bin. “Lets!” I said as I picked up my jacket, and the girls trooped out of the station. I waved to Jake through the booth, and went out.
“Brrr,” I commented as I stepped out onto the sidewalk. I put on my jacket and buttoned up. I swept my hair out of the jacket and swung it around to make sure it was clear. The girls all looked at me. “What?” I was a bit irritated.
Mel looked at me. “Umm, you do that well, Danny.”
“What?”
“The hair thing…”
“I just don’t want it getting caught in my jacket, you know? Sometimes this hair’s more trouble than it’s worth. I was thinking of cutting it off, actually.”
“Don’t you dare!” exclaimed Joanne suddenly, and threw her arms around me. “I love your hair!” She nuzzled my neck. “Mmm, you smell real good. What shampoo have you been using?”
“Lay off, Joanne,” Nikki growled.
“Oh, sorry.” She let go and unlocked the van. I held onto Nikki’s hand and we went in the back. The others followed, with Danielle staying in front with Joanne.
“So, what’s the plan?” I said.
“I was thinking croissants or something,” Danielle said.
“Hey, I know!” Janet said. She leaned forward and gave Joanne directions.
“Were you listening to my show?” I shyly asked Nikki.
“Yes. You were okay.”
“Okay? Just okay?” I faked a pout.
Nikki giggled, and gave me a little wet kiss. Funny, all of Nikki’s kisses seem to be wet kisses. Even the little ones. I had the sneaking feeling that she was trying to taste me.
“Fishing for compliments, again, huh?” said Danielle.
“You get ‘em where you get ‘em,” I said. "Hey, Janet, I played one of our songs on the air!"
"You did? Cool!" She scrunched in closer. "So, what did people think?"
"We got some fans out there, you know?"
"Cool!" We high-fived each other.
I looked around, not recognizing the neighborhood. “Where’s this place we're going to, anyway?” I asked Janet, and she told me where.
I pulled out the cool little Palm Pre that Mrs. Piper gave me – sort of a cooler version of the iPhone, and started typing out a little SMS message to Morgan, just in case he was still asleep. Next best thing to e-mail, especially when you’re on the go.
“What are you doing?” Nikki asked.
“Just telling the guys where we’re going.”
“Don’t you dare!” Danielle said, reached back and snapped the keypad shut.
“Hey!”
“This is just for girls only! Umm, just us girls and you, I mean.”
I gave Nikki a look. She shrugged. I pouted and scrunched down into the seat.
Soon we parked near this French-looking sidewalk café that I hadn’t seen before. There were a few couples and some office-type girls in shorts and other exercise attire having breakfast, and a bunch of guys in rumpled shirts (some of them still with ties on) obviously trying to cure hangovers after a night of after-office carousing. By their accents, they sounded like they were from Boston. Upper-crust Boston, in fact. Probably were in town for a meeting or something.
We sat at the farthest unoccupied table, which happened to be beside the guys’ table, and ordered up. There was a small breeze blowing behind us, in the direction of the restaurant. I shivered a little as the breeze dried off what little sweat I had. The hot chocolate will feel so good, I thought. The breeze blew Mel’s menu towards the guys in ties (hey, that rhymes, heheh, I thought). The one nearest us handed it back, and she thanked him.
As usual, Danielle and I had the largest orders. The girls all talked around me as I dug into what was supposed to be a croque monsieur. Being the social boor that I was, I had called it a “crock mon-sewer,” and the honest-to-goodness French waiter laughed a very French kind of laugh and corrected me. I imitated his laugh. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he went away with a frown. The girls giggled.
What it was was French toast topped with ham and cheese, broiled until the cheese melted. It was really good. I wolfed it down, chased it with hot chocolate, and ordered another. I noticed one of the rumpled-tie guys, the one who happened to be facing towards us, looking at me, and I blushed. He must think I’m a pig, I thought. I went easy on the second one, but the guy kept on staring at me. I started sweating a little.
Nikki noticed my discomfort. “Hey, Dan, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“That guy in the next table, Nikki” I whispered, and everyone leaned forward, listening. “He’s been staring at us since we sat down. I’m starting to get the creeps.”
Janet pretended to drop her fork, and sneaked a look as she picked it up. She straightened up and put the fork down. “He’s not staring at us,” she said. “He’s staring at you, Dan.”
“Me?”
Joanne sneaked a look, and nodded. “Yup! Someone has a crush on someone!” She crowed. Which was difficult to do while trying to whisper.
“Joanne! Shhh!” I hissed. The guy must have heard, because he suddenly looked away. The girls giggled.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“What I mean,” she said, “is that I think the guy likes you.” She said this with a straight face, but the others were giggling.
“Likes me? But he’s a guy!”
“I call ‘em the way I see ‘em.”
“I don’t know what you guys are doing, but I don’t like it.” I huffed, and glared at them.
“Why don’t you ask him and find out, Danny?” Danielle giggled.
“Stop it,” Nikki said, seemingly as pissed as me. She turned to me. “Will you stop encouraging them?”
“Encouraging them? All I was doing was sitting here eating my French toast!”
Nikki frowned, folded her arms and looked away.
“All right! I’ll put a stop to this now!” I leaned forward some more and called across the table.
“Mister! Hey, mister!” The guy turned around and pointed to himself questioningly. “Yeah, you! What’s your problem, huh?”
The guy tried to stutter a response. “Ooh!” said one of his friends. “You’re sooo busted, Pete!” They all laughed, and then the guy groaned in the throes of a hangover. “God! My head!” The girls giggled.
“Umm. Sorry, about that,” the guy, Pete, said. “Uh, I was just wondering what you had ordered. It looks good, and I was thinking of ordering the same.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mel said. “A likely story!”
“No, really. Look I was just curious. Sorry if I gave the wrong impression.” The others were nudging and poking him. “Quit it!” he said to them.
“It’s called a croque monsieur,” I said, this time pronouncing it correctly.
“Ahh,” he said. He gestured and snapped his fingers. “Garçon!” he called. “I’d like to have a, hmmm, a croque monsieur. Like what she’s having.” He gestured at my plate.
“Very good, sir.” He flounced away.
“Thanks,” he said, and smiled weakly.
“You’re welcome,” I growled. "Wait," I thought. "He said, 'what she's having'..."
After about twenty minutes or so, the guy, Pete, called the waiter back, and asked for their check. After paying, he gestured the waiter down, whispered something to him. The waiter nodded, left and came back. Pete wrote on whatever it was the waiter brought, and handed him some more bills. The waiter nodded.
They all stood up to go. As they passed our table on the way to their car, Pete stopped.
“I’m really sorry if I disturbed your breakfast, ladies,” he said. The girls giggled. He turned to me. “It’s just not very often that I’ve had to share a restaurant with someone as pretty as you. You’ve changed a bad day into a good one.” He reached for my hand. I was so dumbfounded, I didn’t pull my hand away. Pretty? He must be cracked.
He bent over my hand and kissed it very gently. I was red as a beet. “Again, my apologies.” He bowed minutely, got in their car, and they drove away.
After a short moment of silence, the girls giggled except for Nikki.
“OOOH!” They cooed.
“Looks like you got yourself an admirer, Danny," Joanne giggled. "You big stud.”
“Stop it!” Nikki exclaimed and slapped Joanne.
Joanne was so shocked, she just put her hand on her cheek and stared at Nikki.
Nikki had her hands on her cheeks, her face a mask of horror.
“Oh, God!” she whispered. “What did I do? Oh, Joanne, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…”
She stood up suddenly, her chair falling back, and ran away sobbing.
We were all in shock. After a moment, I stood up. “I better go after her,” I mumbled.
Joanne was still shocked, but waved me on. "Yeah. Find her, Dan. She might do something weird and hurt herself..." I nodded and rushed off.
I went down the street but hesitated calling out her name. It turned out I didn't have to. I found her at the next corner, arms crossed and head down. I gently touched her on the neck.
"Hey, Nick. You all right?" She wouldn't look up. "Listen. No one's mad. Come on back, huh?" She shook her head. "Please? For me?"
She grabbed me and gave me a fierce hug. I was so surprised that I almost fell backward from the force of her rushing me. I hugged her back.
She was sniffing and crying on my shoulder, and I rocked her for what felt like a long time. God, she felt good.
When the crying tapered to a few hiccups and I felt her relax her grip, I breathed a sigh of relief.
"All better now?" She nodded against my neck, and she used my collar to sort of wipe her nose. "Go on, it's not my favorite, anyway." I got a soggy giggle in return.
"You smell nice," she mumbled.
"Gee, thanks," I said mildly, and shook her gently. "So... are you OK, now?"
"Mmm hmm?"
"So can we go back?"
She looked at me. "But... Joanne..."
"She asked me to look for you, in fact. 'Cause you might hurt yourself."
Her face started to scrunch up again, about to bawl.
"Hey! Stop it!" I hugged her. "Don't start again!" I rocked her, and it sort of made her feel better.
After a while, we slowly started walking back to the café. I kept an arm around her, to comfort her. But I was realist enough to know that it was mostly for me. I hid my smile.
"I don't know what came over me, Dan. I just..."
I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry about it," I said casually. "You were just being jealous."
She reared back. "I was NOT jealous! I was..." she trailed off when she saw my big grin. "You jerk..."
I imitated Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality. "You think I'm gorgeous... you wanna kiss me... you wanna hug me..." Suddenly, SLAP!
We looked at each other, mouths in big silent O's.
"I did it again... Oh, my god..."
I couldn’t hold it in anymore and broke down. I laughed so hard there were tears in my eyes. "Oh, Nikki, you should have seen your expression..."
She gave me an exasperated look, hands on her hips. I kept on laughing, and she continued to look at me. I started feeling a little foolish when I felt people’s growing stares, and my laughing soon tapered off. I cleared my throat and wiped my eyes. “Ahem…”
A smile flickered around her lips. “Umm, sorry about that,” I said.
Her irritated look morphed into a gentle smile. She touched my cheek so softly. She looked so beautiful.
“Umm, Nikki? What…”
She kissed me on the lips and shivered a little. “You stinker,” she said. “I love you.” She looked as surprised as I was that she had said it.
I looked straight into her eyes. “You do?”
She looked back. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess I do.”
I held her face and kissed her gently. “Oh, Danny,” she whispered, and shivered again.
When we got back to the café, breakfast seemed to be over. The girls were standing around with puzzled looks or something. They heard us coming and looked our way.
Joanne and Nikki locked eyes, and Nikki’s face started to scrunch up again. She ran into Joanne’s arms, and started crying again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said over and over in a little-girl voice.
We looked at the both of them for a while. “How sweet,” mumbled Mel, and Danielle whacked her playfully on the shoulder.
I smiled tiredly, and turned back at the others. “Why’s everyone standing around? And has anyone paid the bill, yet? ‘Cause if no one hasn’t, I sure as hell…”
I trailed away as Danielle waved a little piece of paper under my nose. I grabbed it. It was our bill, with “PAID” stamped on it. “Who?…”
“Look at the other side,” Janet said.
I flipped it over and I read the words written on it. “To the most beautiful girl in the café. With my compliments - Pete.” It also had his number scrawled on it.
“Well, what do you think of that?”
I didn’t know what to think.
“So?” Joanne asked, her arm over Nikki’s shoulders.
I looked at her and spastically shrugged my shoulders. “Uh…”
It’s got to be a joke. I thought to myself, as we rode back to my house. I still had the bill in my hand. Had to be. I turned to Nikki, and she gave me a little smile, and shrugged.
When we pulled up to my place, Dale’s big Ford van was already there. Mongo, Dale and June were sitting on the curb shooting the breeze. As we pulled up behind the van, Morgan and Mickey zoomed passed us on Morgan’s motorcycle. Morgan fishtailed the bike in front of the van and switched it off. The van’s doors opened and Betsy, Drew, Jerry, and Kyle stepped out. The whole gang was there. Danielle looked over the headrest at me, and had the same thought. Oh, God, will Mom be pissed. Sixteen kids in the same house.
I made them all wait outside, got in, grabbed my two guitars and packed gym bag, and went out. I got in Joanne’s van, and we rode convoy to June’s place. The guys all went in to get June’s keyboards (and assorted paraphernalia) and loaded it in Dale’s van. The guys were all giving me a sour look for not helping. I pointed to the three girls that had me in a headlock as I leaned out Joanne’s van’s window. Dale snorted.
The girls giggled and pulled me back in. We then drove to Mongo’s.
Soon we were all set up in Mongo’s empty garage and we were playing our selected “repertoire” for the gig tonight, with the rest of the gang sitting around listening. Saturday practice seemed to have mutated into an unofficial party day for the gang. And Mongo’s mom, this little gentle brunette thing - totally unlike her son - was all prepared for us, with lots of sodas in a big cooler, and lots of chips and snacks. We’d all chip in with a few bucks each and give it to Mongo, to give to his mom or whatever. We wouldn’t want to wear out our welcome, especially since Mongo’s house was the only house we knew that had an empty garage, and neighbors that would tolerate our band practice. In any case, Mongo's mom was obviously touched. On our fourth Saturday at their house, Mongo's mom got all the money we had so far given and arranged for a catered mexican-style lunch right in the garage. Obviously, she had put in more money. "It's the least I can do for Julius' friends." Mongo had blushed furiously at that. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she said in mock embarassment. "I meant 'Mongo'! I'm sorry, dear." She had then kissed Mongo on the top of his shaggy head, and we had laughed good-naturedly.
The gimmick tonight was that Betsy would be playing with us on her violin. It was one of Janet’s brainstorms that everyone went along with. So, for days, we wracked our brains for pieces with a violin in them. When we were solid with our playlist, we found out that Betsy couldn’t play by ear. Mucho tough, until Morgan volunteered to search through the net. The following day, Morgan had the pieces laser-printed, and gave it to Betsy.
In the beginning, she wasn’t willing to play, and no amount of begging, cajoling or teasing made her agree to it. But no one counted on Janet’s determination. In the end, when everyone was about to give up on the idea, Janet made me ask her. And when I did, she agreed. I sort of didn’t know how to react to that, but at least she had said yes.
So, when we played, she was there beside me, with a little pick-up mike suction-cupped to the back of her violin, playing her heart out. It turned out she didn’t need the sheet music with her – she seemed to have memorized the pieces in nothing flat. It felt like it’ll be good tonight.
We took a break after what seemed like days, and sat around on old crates that we used as seats. Betsy was daintily sipping Coke Light from a little plastic cup, as the rest of us just pigged out on chips and soda. She was looking at the rest of us with a tolerant, affectionate smile, put down her cup and picked up her violin. She started playing a violin version of Vanessa Carlton’s “Pretty Baby,” and it was wonderful - so pretty, yet with a touch of melancholy and sadness. She was standing next to me and Nikki, Nikki’s arm around my neck. We listened to the wonderful music and looked at her as she played for us. She had her eyes closed, concentrating on the melody, and I couldn’t believe you could coax such gentle sounds from a violin.
When she was done and she looked up from her playing, we all clapped, and the guys hooted.
She blushed and waved us down. “Oh, stop,” she said.
The band crowded around her. Janet and June gave her a kiss and a hug. Dale and Mongo pounded her on her back and she smiled her shy smile. Then she looked at me.
Nikki nudged me. I looked at her and she nodded slightly. Though I wouldn’t say she was giving me permission, it was more like she was saying that it was all right, and that she wouldn’t be hurt or jealous if I were to give her a kiss or something.
I stood up and gave Betsy a big hug and a little peck. She didn’t let go of me right away. And, before pulling away, she gave me a big lip-smacking kiss on the cheek. When we parted, she was all red with embarrassment, and looked down at her shoes.
The rest went “Oooh.” I couldn’t help but grin a little. She was so cute when she was embarrassed. I was just a trifle shorter than her, and because she was wearing flats and I was wearing pointy cowboy boots with about a two-inch heel, we were the same height. So all I needed to do was lift her chin and gave her a little kiss right on the lips.
She looked at me in shock, as if she didn’t believe it. Then, after a long moment, I noticed a tear trailing down from her left eye. What the…?
She rushed out of the garage and into the house.
I looked at Nikki. “What did you do now?” Nikki said.
***** (Danielle) *****
After what felt like a long time, Joanne and I decided to go into the house. We found her in the bathroom crying. We didn’t know how to react to that, and just gave her a hug.
“So, what did my stupid brother do?” I said. She just shook her head against my shoulder.
Joanne smacked her right fist against the palm of her other hand. “Do you want us to beat him up or something?”
“No! I mean… he didn’t do anything wrong. He just…”
“What? What did he do?” I asked her gently.
“He just… Oh, I don’t know! He kissed me, and…” She trailed off.
“It was just a friendly little kiss on the lips.”
“Oh, Danielle! It was so… so….” She had a faraway look.
Joanne raised an eyebrow. “Girl, you need to get out more.”
Betsy looked down. “I guess so… But I just feel so…”
“It was just a little kiss.”
“I guess. But I felt like I had, you know…”
“What? Jesus, girl…” I was starting to get very impatient with this little shrinking violet.
“I can’t tell you!”
“Sure, you can,” Joanne said.
She shook her head, not saying anything.
“You can tell us.” I said. “It won’t go anywhere beyond the three of us. Right Joanne?”
“Right! Cross our hearts and hope to die.” She made a big X on her chest.
She shook her head again.
Joanne took her by the shoulders and shook her gently.
“Betsy!”
“Oh, all right! If you guys promise not to tell anybody.”
“We promise!”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t really know how it’s supposed to feel, you know. I’ve only felt it a couple of times before, and only when I did it myself…”
Joanne and I looked at each other. We started getting the idea.
“You mean…” she trailed off.
“I think I came when he kissed me.”
We stared at her for a long time. She shuddered a little bit.
“Girl, you definitely need to get out more,” Joanne said.
We waited for Betsy to get herself sorted out, and I helped her fix her makeup.
“It was so good, Danielle! It was,” she waved her hand around. “I don’t know! Like something exploding in my tummy, and I was tingling all over. But, I just wanted it to go on and on and on! Oooh!” She hugged herself and giggled like a little girl.
I couldn’t stop my eyebrow from climbing. “Get a grip, Betsy. Or else, the guys outside will wonder. And it was just a kiss, for God’s sake! A no-kiss kiss at that...” I stopped for a second, wondering if I was making sense. Joanne was nodding, so I guess I was. “Quit squirming!” I tried to keep the mascara out of her eyes but she wasn’t cooperating much.
It can’t be that good, I thought. And it was just a kiss on the lips, for God’s sake. It’s got to be Betsy. But I started to wonder as she squealed again.
When we went back to the garage, the band’s stuff was already packed up, more or less. The three of us stared at Dan, who was standing around with Nikki. He looked very uncomfortable under our stares, and looked away. I was remembering that other time, when the two of us were alone in his room, looking in the mirror, both of us naked. I kept on thinking that Danny hadn’t kissed me on the lips, and I wondered how that would have felt, and if we both went a little further passed that, what would have happened…
I shook myself out of that thought, but I felt myself getting turned on. I looked into Betsy’s face, and by how hot my face felt, I guess I was blushing as badly as she. I looked at Joanne, and I couldn’t tell much by her complexion. Though I caught her staring at Danny and licking her lips. I elbowed her in the ribs, and she sort of snapped out of it.
“Sorry,” she whispered to me.
We sat Betsy down on one of the crates, and June came up to her with Betsy’s violin case.
“Here, Betsy,” she said, and handed over the case. “I don’t know if I packed it right.”
She opened the case, checked it out and nodded. “Thanks,” she said. She took this little amber-colored something from her pocket and put it inside the case, which I found out later was a piece of resin that violinists would rub across the strings to make them slide smoother and stop them from breaking. She had a faraway look.
“You OK?” June asked.
“I’m fine,” she said, and gave her a bright smile. June walked away a little puzzled.
Danny walked up to us. “Umm, Betsy?” he said in this contrite tone. “Look, I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him. “Whatever for?”
Umm, whatever it is that I did - embarrass you or something. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
She took his hand and stood up. I caught her shudder slightly, but I was sure it was only me and Dan who noticed.
She led him outside, and Dan went docilely, if a little quizzical. The guys pretended not to notice, but no one was talking, obviously trying to eavesdrop.
We heard some muffled conversation but couldn’t make it out. Then we heard Dan make a little exclamation, like “Hey!” and then we heard a loud bang against the garage. After a few moments, Dan came back in, his face flushed and his hair a little mussed. After a while, Betsy followed, happy and glowing.
Joanne and I looked at each other, with an inkling as to what happened. There MUST be something to that kiss!
***** (Danny) *****
We all had gotten into our outfits. I wore a simple one - black jeans tucked into the tops of my construction boots and a shirt.
Truth be told, I was actually wearing Danielle’s pants since most of my clothes were in my hamper, waiting to be washed. Though denim, the jeans felt stretchier and a lot softer than my own jeans. And the tight pants actually felt more comfortable than any of my other pants. I had some trouble pulling them on, but as soon as I got them past my hips, I felt just how comfortable they were despite being a tight fit. I sort of paused and thought that over a bit.
The pockets were more for show than for utility so I had to put my wallet and other stuff in a belt-bag (Danielle calls it a fanny pack). I wore a loose button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up, over a white tanktop. The tanktop was actually Danielle's, too. It was skintight and a little short, so if I bend at the waist, it would ride up a little. I had this constant feeling that my bellybutton was on the verge of being on display.
I kept my shirt's buttons undone and kept it untucked. Over it I wore an unbuttoned vest. With the tanktop, shirt and vest, I thought I did a pretty good job of camouflaging my sports-bra-covered boobs. Danielle took off the vest, saying that I looked better without it. I was about to protest, but she gave me that big-sister look of hers.
"You look fine," she said. I shrugged, and pointedly didn't put the vest back on. Danielle huffed at that. I pulled at the waist of Danielle's tight, faded lowriders, vainly trying to pull it up some more, and then bent to tuck them into the high-heel pointy boots better.
As we agreed, us guys all wore similar outfits. Dale also wore bluejeans, boots, a shirt and a vest, and Mongo wore a shirt over a tie-dyed t-shirt in psychedelic colors. He wore loose bluejeans and rubber thong slippers. He finished off this weird combination of a sixties and seventies look with a bandana tied around his head.
Janet and June wore open-toed strappy high heels and tight Capri-length pants made of some shiny fabric. No pantylines visible, woo-hoo! They wore tight, close-fitting open bolero jackets over very short string tanktops that showed off their bellybuttons.
I looked at Janet’s sexy bellybutton, and looked up at her (with the heels, she must be at least five-ten). I gave her a sexy wink, and she broke down laughing.
Betsy didn’t get word of what outfits the girls would be wearing, so her costume didn’t match. What she wore was a simple low-cut strapless tight, white dress (or as low-cut as you can get with a strapless dress) with some yellow and gold highlights, and high stiletto-heeled lemon-colored thigh-high boots. The very short skirt was cut in an asymmetrical way - from high on her left hip down to the right edge of the skirt which ended just above her knee. She didn’t wear any hose, but her pale complexion just set the whole thing off. She still wore glasses, but she had on a new sexy pair. Well, at least I thought they were sexy as hell. Actually, she was sexy as hell. Who would have thought Betsy could be sexy?
I sat in the back of Dale’s van, with most of the guys’ equipment in the middle seats. Nikki and Betsy sat on either side of me. It was a tight squeeze, what with all the instruments (they had insisted to load all of it in the van). In front was Dale in the driver’s seat, and June’s keyboard on the passenger’s side. The rest had squeezed into the minivan, and Drew rode with Morgan on his bike. We all teased Drew about that, and Drew suddenly gave Morgan a big wet smack on the cheek, leaving a little lipstick rosebud. That sort of shut us all up. Morgan grinned at us, put on his helmet and roared away. The van followed suit, and then we trailed the van.
I sort of kept quiet the whole time. Sure, it was fine with Nikki there. But, I didn’t know how to react to Betsy. Nikki snuggled against me, which was delightful, but Betsy followed suit and snuggled up on my other side. At first, Nikki looked at Betsy, sort of irritated, and a little angry. She caught Betsy’s eye, and Betsy looked back inquiringly. Nikki looked back, and after a bit, shrugged and snuggled back. Soon, the two were sneaking looks at each other giggling. I sort of tried to ignore it, but was soon blushing. That made them giggle some more, and Nikki gave me a big, loud wet kiss on my right cheek. Betsy imitated her and gave me another on my left cheek, and then they both giggled. I was trapped.
“What are you guys doing back there?” Dale called to us from the front as he roared passed the van. “Anything I should know about?” We heard Joanne lean on the horn, probably angry that someone got passed her.
“Nothing!” Nikki and Betsy chorused, and giggled.
We saw Dale looking at us in the rearview mirror. I gave him a pleading look. “Help!” I mouthed at him silently. He grinned back, winked and shook his head.
Nikki and Betsy laughed in delight. I just sat there and endured it. “Any other time I would be willing to pay money for this,” I said to myself.
When we got to Mario’s, we found that Morgan and Drew beat us getting there, but Joanne’s van wasn’t there yet. We stood around for about ten minutes or so, waiting. I got my jacket out, put it over Betsy's shoulders, but hen I hugged Nikki against the cool breeze - no fool was I. Taking my cue, Morgan gave Drew his jacket, and winked at me. After a while, Dale looked at his watch. “It’s getting late,” he said. “We can’t wait for them anymore. I think we’d better set up.”
Morgan stood up. “All right,” he said, and cracked his knuckles in a comical way. “Let’s get at it then.” He stood in a mock body-building pose, and Drew hit him on the head. “Hey!” But before he could get mad, she kissed him on the lips.
“Okay, ladies and gents,” Dale said. “Grab anything you can, and let’s start bringing them inside.” Morgan and Dale started with Mongo’s drum set, and I helped bring June’s keyboard inside. Nikki brought my two guitars, and Betsy brought Janet’s guitar, Dale’s base and her violin case.
Morgan and I set up Mongo’s drum set in the way that he liked, the hi-hat on the left, and I wired up June’s keyboards. Nikki and Drew tried to be helpful by putting the guitars on the stands, and Betsy started tuning her violin. Dale came back in dragging a steamer trunk full of wires and such. Mario’s sound guy came up and conferred with Dale. Since they’d done this many times before, the job went real quick, though testing the sound levels was a chore, with only Dale and me checking out all the guitars, and Morgan testing June’s keyboards.
Pretty soon, the place had started to fill up with patrons. Mario, in one of the savvy tricks he’d learned from being a restauranteur for twenty years, had set up the stage close to the tables, with barely enough room to dance. As a result, the patrons found it easier to sit mostly, and therefore order more food.
The place had a balcony at the far wall and, during our gigs, this would be full of screaming fans. Mario had his sound and lighting people move stuff out of the balcony. The mixer had set up a makeshift booth near the main doors, and we had to make do with static lights.
It was passed eight and the guys weren’t there, yet. Betsy, Dale and I stood around nervously. I shot a glance at Morgan while he made his way to the gang’s regular table up front, with Drew and Nikki holding it for the guys. Morgan shrugged. No sign of them. I turned to the others.
“Guys, what’ll we do? The others aren’t here, yet. And the people are starting to get antsy.”
“Yeah,” Dale said. “And Mario is giving us the evil eye. So, what now?”
“I don’t know,” Betsy said, looking more than a little nervous. “Danny?”
I gave Betsy a big hug. “Be cool, Bets. It’s gonna be okay.”
Betsy took a deep breath in my arms. “Okay, Danny. We trust you.”
“By the way, before anything else, you look real pretty tonight.” I knew she was a little nervous about being in such a flimsy costume, so I tried to encourage her a bit. She smiled shyly and hugged me tighter.
I gently pushed her away to pick up my guitar, and she reluctantly let me go. “Okay!” I rubbed my hands together. I looked out into the audience, trying to gauge the mood.
“Let’s start with ‘Baby, Now That I’ve Found You,’ and let’s hope to God they get here before the song ends.” Betsy gulped and gave me a nervous smile. Dale nodded and plugged in his base.
I gestured at Betsy, and she took up position beside me.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” I said, and the crowd quieted down. “We are Unlimited Bandwidth. In behalf of the band, I’d like to welcome you to Mario’s. I hope you enjoy the music.”
I nodded to the guys, picked up my guitar, and started playing the opening chords.
*****
end of part two
Comments
Interesting
This is getting more interesting and I can't wait to read part three.
Keep up the wonderful work.
Dan seems to be getting stuck in an odd yet interesting situations and I wonder what is going to happen next.
Jayme Ann
The answers to all of life's questions can be found in the face of a true friend
The answers to all of life's questions can be found in the face of a true friend
Ladies, Gentlemen, we have a winner!
This story is truly awesome! Don't sell yourself short, you have created a very captivating story with plenty of strong (that is - emotionally energizing) imagery. And, in the course of it you also created a Memetic Sex God!
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MemeticSexGod
Just two little things.
One. Can you please give a name to call you? We need it! And no, Roberta J Cabot won't do, it's way too formal.
Two. Don't let all this well-deserved praise go to your head ;)
Faraway
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
Memetic Sex God
Interesting idea, that. He certainly does seem to simultaneously have all the girls in his gang, and almost every random male he meets, fawning and drooling over him.
Meanwhile, it'll be interesting to see what happens on the medical front - he appears to have both estrogens (natural) and androgens (pills) coursing through his body. Given his female body development has slowed but not stopped, it suggests that the estrogens are winning the battle, so to speak - although the development "downstairs" suggests that the androgens aren't completely useless :)
Then there's the bizarre scenario his psychologist got him thinking about...
...and somehow squeezing in band work and DJing in addition to school, as well as being accepted into social groupings of both genders...how the hell does he fit it all in?!
--Ben
As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!
Danny in the Band
I can remember in my late teens hanging around with a band that included one of my best friends and other guys from my HS. I was in big time denial. I had sort of long hair and the beginnings of a beard, mainly on my neck. I didn't dress much at all during this time period, but I had TG/TS fantasies every night. I just walled that part of myself off from the operating-in-the-real-world part of me.
This may sound sexist or anti-trans, but... if I knew him(?) and his sister, I would have considered Danny a fairy. I don't mean a male homosexual; I guess fairy was my term for a fem TG, even if I didn't really understand that concept (or myself) back then. I would have been fascinated by er appearance and stared a lot, but way too scared of guilt by association to talk to or befriend er.
er=hir
All I can imagine with the girls e is attracting is that they are getting their bi-curious urges satisfied by someone who is nominally male.
I think this is a wonderful story that has shown quite a bit of plot relatively quickly. To me it seems very well written and fun to read.
Hugs and Bright Blessings,
Renee
Hugs and Bright Blessings,
Renee
Thank you, guys!
Hi, Jayme Ann. I'm glad you find the story interesting. Yes, Danny does seem to have a knack for getting into these weird situations. Heheheh.
Hey, Faraway! Am grateful for your very effusive comments. But I fear I may disappoint with newer posts. I am crossing my fingers, though. People usually call me Bobbie. And, never fear - I won't get a swelled head. Although I seem to have trouble getting my head passed through doorways, lately. I wonder if that's connected...
Hi, Renee. I'm sorry you had to go through what you did. And I'm sorry if my story brought back bad memories. Yes, I think you're right - Danny probably would be considered such in real life, and yup, it may be the girls' being bi-curious. But the next installment will give a little insight to this. I guess I am taking a little too much poetic license in stretching out the believability, but, hey, it's fiction, after all. ;-)
In any case, thank you all for the wonderful comments!
- Bobbie
Memories
I am so sorry for Renee as well. So much of what goes on in ours stories is bound to evoke memories, both good and bad. Scenarios that depict true to life characters may remind the reader of something they saw or went through; a first kiss with a girl or boy might be wonderful for one girl and absolutely devastating for another. But that's what's so great and wonderful even when it is sad; sharing the commonality of wanting to be accepted, and seeing, at least on some occasions that it is possible to be accepted. One girl's pain can be comforted by the next who went through the same thing. I love the people here and the wealth and variety of experience because each one's success gives hope for the next who waits for hope. It's great when you're up at 3:00am crying about your own life and someone writes a pm or a comment that helps put things in perspective. And I absolutely treasure the compassion I see on a daily basis when one reaches out to another. You are a tremendous blessing, all of you, regardless of what you've ever been told, since you are unique and special. Don't forget to keep praying for Sephrena! Thanks again for another installment, and God bless! 'drea
"She was born for all the wrong reasons but she grew up for all the right ones." Dio ti benedicta! 'drea
Love, Andrea Lena
I really like this story!
I really like this story!
Great, but...
This is a really good story, it's amusing and well written. However, that incestuous scene was a *huge* turn off for me. I ended up putting the story down for quite a bit until I read further comments about how people enjoyed this story so much. So, I picked it up and read on. After that particular moment the story got better again. I really hope you don't go in that direction in future updates.
The reason I don't like those moments in stories is because I need to be able to relate to a character on *some* level for me to enjoy the story. I don't like incest so I don't like those stories. It's the same reason I don't like bondage stories, or transvestite stories, or "sissy" stories. Those subjects don't interest me.
This is, however, *your* story. Do what you feel you need to.
Great, but nothing.
Not every cup of tea was brewed with personal tastes in mind. Coming forth to tell us your feelings about it was an emotional reaction that came with advice that was unwarranted. Who dictates what a writer can and cannot write? Certainly no one but the writer themselves in a venue such as this. That's what makes BC GREAT and not merely good.
If Bobbie continues along with the twins dealing with their incestuous leanings (and the reason behind them), you should trust that it will be borne out within the story as a solid reason. In fact, Bobbie did cover the reason in detail and showed that it was not only Danny's sister, but everyone who came near him that was in danger of crossing lines of attraction. It's not a black and white issue.
I implore you to have faith in an author who has brought you a story you have obviously enjoyed a little longer and try not to bring your hang-ups crashing into other people's tea rooms. I have run into stories here at BC that have left me quite angry with their perverse and graphic descriptions or outrageously immoral and improbable-if-not-impossible plot devices, but I hit backspace on my comments every time*. Who am I to tell others what to write? If I don't like it, I move on. Popularity will separate the wheat from the chaff without painting a scarlet letter on a story.
BTW - Bobbie, I truly miss your Danny story updates. The Nighthawk and the twins are bursting with potential, to say nothing of the Unlimited Bandwidth's future!
* Almost every time. I had one slip-up about six or so months ago and felt duly guilty about it ever since, hence why I am commenting about this comment. Hard-won wisdom needs to be shared so others can learn from the enlightenment of others' suffering.
- Eclectic Kitty
Now I'm not looking for absolution
Forgiveness for the things I do
But before you come to any conclusions
Try walking in my shoes
- Eclectic Kitty
Oh, that magic feeling - nowhere to go.
Great, but watch your tone.
If you'd read what I wrote clearly you'd notice that I didn't give any advice. Any at all. I'd direct you to the last thing written in my comment box "This is, however, *your* story. Do what you feel you need to."
I never saw your comment until now. I'm sure no harm was intended by it but it rather irks me that you imply I was telling the writer how or what to write. It's more accurate to say that I was stating my desires for future plot development.
I stated my feelings and interpretations of this piece. What is the box for if not to state emotional reactions to plot and character development? Stating my feelings was not unwarranted, though it can be construed as a bit judgmental.
The only thing I will say is that I came close to genre-bashing. Something I've learned quite well over the years not to do. For that, I apologise. However, your tone sounded a little condescending. Especially the lead-in title. I've never asked for something to be written 100% to my personal tastes. I'd certainly hope the majority of fiction wouldn't be. Life would be so boring if we all thought the same way.
This is good!
I'm really enjoying this! Now for Chapter 3!
Wren
Bobbie, your imagination is
Bobbie, your imagination is endless! This is going places no one could guess !
Hugs, Karen
What an odd coincidence
After reading part 1 last night I decided reread on of my favorites, The Station's Late Night Princess by Alicia Snowfall. It also has a high school student with gender issues who secretly becomes the hot new late night radio station DJ in town.
This story just becomes more and more awesome as I read it. I'm looking forward to what happens next.
Really really
Enjoy this story! I really get a thrill to find a new (to me) unread story with lots of chapters.
Thanks!
alissa
Who needs the psychiatrist?
After the session with Jenny, Danny seems to be a normal, confused, teen with a physical problem that it causing him some trouble. Otherwise, he's just as clueless as every other teen boy.
That being said, the one who should be meeting with Jenny is Danielle, after that stunt she pulled in Dan's bedroom, which would have sent their parents over the moon.
Danielle is constantly wishing she had a twin sister, and is doing her best to push Dan in that direction. She throws a fit if he doesn't want to go shopping with her and the other girls, she's always buying girls clothes for Dan then tricking him into wearing them.
She's also keeping him from hanging out with HIS friends, giving him some lame excuse that eventually gets him to do as she wants. And because how much Dan has changed it can not be dismissed that Danielle is actually responsible for his change due to her warped desire. She might be putting something in what Dan uses, eats, or wears. Something that has affected his hormone levels.
And the really sad thing about all this, the parents haven't a clue about everything Danielle has done, and is doing, to have a twin sister.
Others have feelings too.