Accidental Romance

by Melanie Brown

  “You look awesome, girl!” said Steph. “Look at yourself in the mirror.”

  I turned to look at myself in the full length mirror in my room. “Holy shit!” I said as I saw myself nude from the waist up. The change was completely amazing. Despite what people have always said to me, I never really thought I looked girlish. But, oh-my-God! Ignoring the bandages, I couldn’t believe how wonderful my breasts looked. I posed, turning one way and then the next. I tried jiggling my boobs, but they hurt too much. I didn’t see me, Bobby Johnson, any more. I only saw a pretty, well-endowed girl with long hair falling over her shoulders.

  Steph grinned at me, “Look at you smile! You love those breasts, don’t you?”

  She joined me in the mirror. My breasts appeared to be slightly larger than hers. Wearing a stupid expression, I said, “Oh, my God yes! This puts a whole new spin on things. I can now wear a bikini. Sexy lingerie. Gowns with plunging necklines. It changes everything!”

  Steph laughed. “Well, not quite everything. But as long as you don’t drop your pants, no one will ever believe you’re a guy.”

  I stood there in front of the mirror, posing. “I don’t even believe I’m a boy anymore.”

  * * *

  Nathan walked in through the front door from wherever it is that he spends his day. I’ve often wondered just what he does when he’s not actually acting. Or maybe I don’t want to know. I was sitting on the couch watching a movie and wearing just shorts and a tank top.

  “Hi Honey, I’m home,” Nathan sang as he closed the door. “What’s for dinner?”

  I pointed to the coffee table and said, “Pizza.”

  Nate frowned as he lifted the top of the large pizza box to peer inside. “If you were a real girlfriend, you’d make me dinner.”

  Without taking my eyes off the TV, I said, “If you were a real boyfriend, you’d kiss me when you came home.”

  He picked up a slice of pizza and plopped down on the couch with me and said, “Touché.”

  I leaned way over in front of him to get another slice of pizza. Even though it caused some pain, I jiggled my torso a little.

  Nate looked over at me and said, “Did you cut your hair?”

  “No.”

  “New outfit?”

  “No.”

  Nathan studied for me a few seconds and said, “There’s something different about you.”

  I arched my back some to make my breasts more prominent.

  “Hmmm. Those aren’t new shoes,” said Nate. “I just can’t put my finger on it.”

  I got up and shoved my cleavage into his face.

  Nate said, “Oh, wait. I think I got it. You bought a new bra?”

  I picked up a throw pillow from the couch and threw it at him.

  “Wait, wait, wait. Oh!” said Nate. “Do you have tits now?” He spread his arms wide and shrugged. “You know, they look so natural on you, that I forgot you didn’t come with any.”

  I winced as I folded my arms under my breasts and accidently squeezed them too much. “Gee, thanks for noticing.”

  Nate took a bite of pizza and said while chewing, “You’re welcome. I guess you got your new tits today, huh? Looks good from what I can see of them. Do I get to see more?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Let me see what they feel like,” Nate said as he extended his hands towards me.

  “No, no!” I squealed as his fingers neared by new boobs. “The doc specifically said to keep my boyfriend’s hands off the merchandise until they’ve had a chance to heal.”

  Nathan wiggled his fingers at me in a mock gesture of grabbing me. “Well how long will that be? A couple of hours?”

  I huffed at him and folded my arms again and said, “In about twenty years; if you’re lucky.”

  Nathan pulled his wallet out of his pocket and retrieved a strip of paper from it. He said, “It’s a good thing I held on to that hooker’s phone number…”

  I jumped up, which I immediately regretted as my boobs pulled against the sutures and I shouted, “Give me that!”

  Nathan lifted the paper above my reach and said, “Why? I don’t want to have to wait twenty years to squeeze tits again! How fair is that?”

  I reached fruitlessly for the slip of paper and shouted, “Give me that! You’re not calling that prostitute!”

  “Then I get to squeeze your tits!” Nathan laughed. “After all, I own them. Tony billed me for them.”

  “You can’t touch them until they’ve healed,” I squealed. “Right now they’ll hurt if you touch them. Now give me that paper!”

  He dropped the paper on the floor, so I’d have to bend over to pick it up. He said, “Fine. Here, take it.”

  I picked it up and squinted at it. It wasn’t a phone number. I said, “What the hell is this?”

  “It’s my laundry ticket,” Nate said. “Keep it. Make yourself useful by picking up my laundry tomorrow.”

  Squealing, I tossed another pillow at him.

  * * *

  The phone rang, waking me up. I decided I needed to start going to bed earlier so I wouldn’t waste my mornings sleeping. I rolled over to pick up the phone and winced with pain as my breasts fell to one side. Into the phone I said, “Hello?”

  The familiar voice of Steph said, “Hey, girlfriend. Did I wake you up again?”

  “Yeah. Sorry,” I mumbled into the phone. “It’s not like I have to a job to go to every morning.”

  Steph laughed and said, “In a way you do, Amber. Your job is to be Nathan’s girlfriend and to get ready for going to the Oscars with him. Dad wanted me to take you to the designer’s to pick your gown. They’ll need a few days to fit it. Then we need to rent you some expensive jewelry.”

  “More shopping?” I groaned. “Does it ever end? And rent jewelry? Don’t you buy jewelry? Or rather, shouldn’t Nate buy me jewelry?”

  Again Steph laughed, “Shopping end? Don’t be silly, girl! And yes. This jewelry you rent. Unless you have a hundred thousand or so to buy it. Dad doesn’t mind investing a few thousand in you, but no one is crazy enough to spend that kind of money unless they’re billionaires. And yes, if Nathan really loved you, he’d buy you diamonds. You might remind him of that.”

  “I really don’t think he loves me,” I said seriously. “This is all for the sake of buzz, remember?”

  “Just give him some time girl,” Steph laughed. “He’ll come around.”

  “I’m not really a girl,” I said annoyed.

  “Go look in the mirror.”

  “Breasts don’t make you a woman.”

  Sounding more than a little annoyed, Steph said, “Amber, why do you keep dropping into denial? You’re a girl in every way but one. I saw it in your face and your reaction when you finally got your boobs. You’re a girl, Amber! Embrace it. Enjoy it.”

  “I don’t deny that I enjoy it, Steph,” I said. “I do. The emotional freedom alone makes me almost wish I could stay this way. But the rest of it is mostly superficial. Make-up, clothes, giggling with a friend and even kissing guys doesn’t make you a girl. Not to mention that I face a stark, cold reality every time I take a piss, even if I do it sitting down.”

  Steph sighed heavily, “I’m going to make you a girl even if it takes Dad’s last dime! Get dressed, babe. I’ll be there in an hour to go get lunch, and then we’ll see about a gown.”

  “Why can’t I just wear the dress I wore to the gala?” I asked.

  “Are you crazy? You can’t wear a cocktail dress with that micro-skirt to the Oscars! You need something elegant. You need something to make Nathan look good standing next to you.”

  * * *

  For lunch we dined at Taco Bell in blissful obscurity. No one pegged me as being Nathan’s new girlfriend. No cameras were aimed at us. We just ate and enjoyed a few joyful moments engaging in girl talk. Most guys find a reason to disappear, but I always enjoyed girl talk in those few moments back in school when I’d get invited in during periods of high androgyny. I have to admit that I hated it when
I got stuck with a group of guys and their endless droning about sports.

  Steph parked her car on a side street about a block from the swanky Rodeo Drive designer store she was taking me to. As we got out of her car, Steph said, “I think he has the most elegant gowns. You don’t want to look like a side show attraction or trashy or have ridiculous accessories like over-sized bows or a lobster on your head. You want to compliment Nathan, not outshine him.”

  I thought we’d stand out from the other women walking down the sidewalks, as we were both wearing t-shirts and denim mini-skirts and tennis shoes. But we saw the whole gamut of dress and style as we walked the block or so to the store.

  As we entered the store with twenty foot high glass doors and surrounding windows the same height, a short man with a shaved head, wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt, a green tie inexplicably dangling around his neck, purple parachute pants and red sneakers came bounding out from a door in the back.

  With hand extended, and wearing a wide grin, the odd man said, “Ms. Demarco! It’s such a pleasure to see you again! You always bring me customers!” He turned towards me, his smile widened and he continued, “And you must be Ms. Johnson. Child, you are absolutely gorgeous! Dressing you will be such a joy. Ladies? If you’ll follow me, we’ll get started right now.”

  As we walked down the hallway to a back room, Steph leaned in close and whispered, “Mr. Beirabelli is a little eccentric, but he’s a brilliant designer.”

  We entered a room where racks and racks of dresses, long and short, flooded the whole area. A rack by itself had three dresses on it.

  Mr. Beirabelli said, “Ms. Demarco took the liberty of sending me some pictures of you, Ms. Johnson. I selected three dresses that I think will be perfect for you.” He waved around the room and said, “But you are free to choose any dress you like.”

  Steph again whispered in my ear, “Don’t insult him. Select your favorite from the rack.”

  On the rack hung a black dress, a deep blue dress and a shockingly red dress. All three exposed tons of cleavage and open in the back. I can see why Tony was insistent I get boobs as soon as possible. There’s no way any flat-chested person could wear one of these gowns.

  Both of us circled the rack like raptors zeroing in on a helpless herbivore. I was immediately drawn to the black dress. I surprised myself by pulling the dress out and hanging it in front of me like I’d seen my mom do when looking at dresses.

  “This dress is very sexy!” I said, swishing the skirt back and forth.

  Steph said, “Black is always sexy.” She pulled out the red dress and held it up. She said, “But this. This dress is perfect, Amber. This dress is so elegant! It’s beyond sexy. Look at these lines. It’s a classic style, but not old fashioned. Mr. Beirabelli, you’re a genious!”

  I just stood there, holding the black dress and looking at Steph, with the red dress held in front of her. Even though she wasn’t wearing it, the dress made her look so hot, so beautiful. I blinked a couple of times as I looked at her. I put the black dress back on the rack and reached for the red dress. “Can I try it on?”

  If his grin got any wider, his head would split open. “But of course my dear! The dressing room is right over there.” He pointed to a door behind us.

  Steph smiled broadly, “Let’s go. I’ll help you get into it.

  At first I thought why would I need help putting on a dress, but I was glad Steph was there to help me out. There was a strap that went behind my neck that left my back totally exposed and created a plunging neckline that made me blush.

  Steph stepped back from me and actually gasped. “Amber! You are so totally gorgeous, girl! I don’t think very many women could get away with wearing that dress. But on you… oh my God. You look awesome!”

  We left the dressing room and walked back to where Mr. Beirabelli was waiting. The dress was tight around my legs, restricting the width of my step. I loved the feel and the swishing sound of the satin moving against my skin. He spread his arms wide and exclaimed, “You are a goddess, Ms. Johnson! After getting your hair and make-up done, every woman on the red carpet will hate you.”

  Mr. Beirabelli took out a measuring tape and started taking measurements. He said, “Hmmm… let out a little here, take in a bit here.” He then frowned and said, “Ms. Johnson, you have no hips, dear. I have a belt you can wear under the dress that will bring your waist in a bit. Just don’t eat much that night!”

  While I was being measured for alterations, a tall and rather handsome man with a backpack slung over one shoulder came into the room. He called out as he approached, “Mr. Beirabelli? Jack Bullock. I’m here to shoot your Summer line-up.”

  Mr. Beirabelli straightened up and said, “Oh, yes. I almost forgot. Let me check to see if the model has arrived yet. She was supposed have been here half an hour ago for make-up.” He reached into one of the pockets in his voluminous pants and pulled out a small walkie-talkie. Into it he said, “Maggie. Has Ms. Simmons arrived yet.?”

  Over the walkie-talkie came a woman’s voice that said, “She just called a few minutes ago. She had to cancel because her doggie has a cold.”

  “Remove her name from the list of available models,” he said into the walkie-talkie. To the photographer, he said, “I guess we’ll have to re-schedule the shoot Mr. Bullock. That means my exclusive on-line catalog will be late.”

  “Call my office when you have a new date, Mr. Beirabelli.” The photographer started to turn around to leave.

  Steph, cried out, “Wait! You have a model right here! Amber would love to model your clothes, Mr. Beirabelli!”

  Jack Bullock looked over at me and said, “She’s definitely pretty enough. But being pretty doesn’t always mean a good model.” To me directly he said, “Do you have an agent? I don’t work with freelancers.”

  “I… I…” I didn’t know what to say. I’m not a model and know nothing about it. I couldn’t understand why Steph was saying these things.

  Steph stepped next to me and said, “Of course she has representation. Anthony Demarco is her agent.”

  Looking impressed, Jack said, “Really? Hmmm. Tony only hires the best talent. I usually like to see a portfolio before working with a model for a top client like Mr. Beirabelli, but we’re short on time. Let me call Tony’s office and see if we can get a quick contract drawn up.”

  Steph said, “I need to go to the little girls’ room. I’ll be right back.”

  Jack set his backpack down on the floor and pulled a cell phone from his pocket. He punched a number and a few moments later he said, “Jill? Get me Tony Demarco’s number please.” He paused for a few moments, and then said, “Okay. Got it. Thanks.”

  Jack smiled at me as he punched in some new numbers into his phone. A moment later he said, “Mr. Demarco please. Yes, I’ll wait.”

  I’m not sure where she had actually gone, but Steph walked up behind Jack giving me two thumbs up.

  Into the phone, Jack said, “Hey Tony. Jack Bullock here. Yes, thanks. I was calling to see if you are representing Amber Johnson? You are? Cool. Do you think we could draw up a contract while I start shooting? We’re really crunched for time. That’s why I like working with you, Tony. Later.” He disconnected the call and looked at Mr. Beirabelli. “We’re in business. You wanted these pictures shot in the park, right? Is your van already loaded? Good. Come girls. You can ride with me.”

  * * *

  “Don’t sweat it,” Steph whispered in my ear again. “You’ll do fine. Ever watch ‘America’s Next Top Model’ and think you could do that too? Really? Well, here’s your chance to find out.”

  We stopped at a nice little park a couple of miles from the store. Jack told me to get into the van and change into the item labeled “A”. Apparently he was expecting the clothes to be photographed in a certain order. There were twenty outfits wrapped in plastic hanging on a rack built into the van. I really thought the outfits would be bizarre things that no real woman in her right mind would wear. Turns out I was wrong.
All the outfits were really cute and were designed to appeal to the high school/college crowd.

  A woman had set up a booth shaded by an umbrella to do the make-up. She used a heavier eye-liner than I normally do and stuck on some false eyelashes. The eyeshadow was more subdued so I didn’t look like one of Nathan’s whores. A little blush and pastel pink on my lips and I was ready to model. The afternoon light was on the wan and Jack had no time to waste on a fussy, temperamental model. Lucky for both of us, I wasn’t one.

  For the first outfit, Jack selected a site where I did several poses on and around a park bench with several trees as the background. The second outfit was around and standing in a fountain. I was having a blast. I just did what Jack told me to do. I had no training or previous experience or my own ideas on how it should be done. I could tell Jack was enjoying working with me.

  Steph exclaimed, “That’s the cutest outfit yet!”

  As I exited the van I said, “Aren’t these adorable? I’d wear these myself.”

  Jack called out, “We have three more outfits to shoot and we’re almost out of light.”

  I ran over to the swing set and sat in one of the swings as Jack directed. I looked over at Steph and she was just smiling at me. I smiled back at her as Jack snapped a few more shots. I thought Steph had been out of her mind to tell Jack I was a model. But now, I’m so glad she did. I didn’t know when I had so much fun. And I was going to get paid for it too.

  The sun was shining through the leaves of the trees as it began to sink below the tops of the buildings that surrounded the park. I was exhausted.

  Jack said, “Okay, that’s a wrap. Great work, Amber. You’re a quick study and a joy to work with. That Tony really knows how to pick ‘em. I’ll be happy to use you anytime.”

  Steph slapped my hand in a high-five, “Awesome, girl! How does it feel to be a model?”

  “I love it,” I said honestly. “It’s more tiring than I thought it would be, but I had a blast!”