Page 19

Chapter 2

The walk did not clear my head. If anything, it confused me more. Sure enough, there seemed to be no men here. Women clad in all manner of clothes were everywhere, though they largely seemed to be divided into two groups. Some were dressed in refined, elegant clothing that exuded confidence and power. The rest were in dresses like I had found in Saskia's closet — satin and chiffon with girly trim and short hemlines.

The kind of clothes that got me excited.

But not because you want to wear them, I reminded myself.

I was supposed to want to rip them off girls. So I could have my way with them. But having seen that closet — now all I could think about was someone doing that to me.

The idea filled me with an excitement that made my stomach curl.

Without realizing it, I had found myself back in front of Saskia's house. The cheery yellow building loomed in front of me until I worked up the courage to open the gate set in the white picket fence and drag myself inside. She didn't seem to be home, so I went back to my room to think.

That's where I found it.

My heart leapt into my throat as I opened the door and found the girlish pink dress laid out on the bed next to a matching set of lingerie. Thick bands of fluffy white lace trimmed every edge and hem. A white, many-layered petticoat that sat on a chair next to the open window. On the floor in front of it were nude peep-toe pumps with a long, slender heel.

Saskia appeared silently in the doorway, her face drawn into a skeptical frown. She stared at me intensely, studying me — measuring me. I moved towards the bed, unsure if it was her sudden arrival that pushed me away or the magnetic draw of the clothes. My knees bumped into the mattress, the dress rustling.

"It's for you, Michael," she said. "One of many."

My stomach curled into a tight ball.

It's for me.

I stared at the dress on the bed, its layers standing high above the mattress, the lace trim swaying gently in the breeze from the window. The mellow odor of freshly cut grass wafted through it and mixed with the sultry smell of the lilies on the nightstand. The curtains fluttered in the breeze, casting gauzy shadows on the floor.

"I can't wear this," I said, my voice choked and tight.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from it. Baby pink satin, white lace trim, dripping in ruffles and bows. I hated how it made me feel. My chest was tight as I reached out one quaking finger to brush it. The satin was soft and cool and my hand recoiled like I had just touched a stove.

I looked up at Saskia with wide eyes, horror and shame mixing with deep, feral arousal.

I could wear this, I thought, the idea exciting me as much as it terrified me.

"If there's anywhere you can wear something this lovely, it's here, Michael," she said firmly.

Her arms were crossed, legs spread; a tiny woman who nevertheless became a wall in front of the door. The last time someone had blocked a door with their body, I'd easily shoved them out of the way and sprinted off with my shoplifted treasures in tow, buddies hooting behind me. But I couldn't imagine doing that with Saskia. She was as solid as an ancient oak.

And as much as I wanted to run away, to shove her out of the way and kick open the door and run as far away from it all, get as far from this town with its beautiful women and tempting clothes and taunting, hateful rightness as I could — my feet were rooted to the floor. I needed to stay. I had to stay.

_This should be easy for you, Mike. You're not going to put on a girly pink dress, are you? You're not_that_ kind of guy._

"I know it would be a change for you," she continued, her voice like iron. "Change can be very scary. But this doesn't have to be. This can be a joy, Michael. Wouldn't you like some joy in your life?"

I let my hands find their way into the layers of the dress, disappearing beneath silky layers trimmed in lace. Goosebumps crawled out across my back. The curtains flapped into the room, pressing the smell of grass and flowers into my nose. I looked over at Saskia. She was staring at me, waiting for an answer.

"I want to, Mrs. Burton," I managed in a strangled voice, looking down at my hands and realizing how they had betrayed me. "But I can't. I — I shouldn't. "

"Can and should don't matter here, Michael. What do you want? "

"I — I —" I stammered, trying to look at her but looking past her shoulder instead.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes, Mrs. Burton, but —"

Her voice softened a fraction. "Your life has been so devoid of beautiful things, Michael. Why won't you take them, now that you have a chance?"

"Because that's for girls!" I cried, my voice rising with the beating of my heart.

"Beauty doesn't have a gender," she replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You've been fighting it for so long, Michael. Isn't it time you let yourself have what you want?"

"This isn't what I want! I don't want to put on a dress! "

"Not just a dress, Michael. Panties and stockings, too."

"I don't —" I whimpered, unable to prevent myself from imagining it. "I can't — none of that's for me!"

"It can be. You want it. You can have it. All you have to do is say yes."

I pulled my hands from the dress and turned my gaze to her. Her eyes were full of fire, barely contained energy raging behind them. Every muscle in her face seemed to be fighting to break her composure. Her arms were crossed, but her knuckles were white, fingers clenched into tight fists.

Don't be a coward, I chastised myself. Make the right choice. Tell her no. Man up!

I almost laughed out loud at my choice of words. The loose feeling of anxiety was flowing through me. I felt heat in my chest. I knew what I wanted.

"Yes."

The words were barely more than a whisper. Even as I said them, I felt relief sweep over my body. My eyes were moist and I blinked, trying to drive the tears away before they spilled down my cheeks. I was shaking as she embraced me, pulling me to her. Her slender arms wrapped around me entirely, keeping the doubts and worries away. I leaned into her.

The scent of lilies wafted around us.