by Casey Grant
Play Date
By Casey Grant
Copyright 2013, Casey Grant
Smashwords Edition.
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Bobby’s Dad
Lena Harris walked up to the front door and rang the bell. The door opened and she was face to face with the gorgeous (and single!) Shane Evans.
“Well, was my Ryan good today?” Lena said, trying not to get lost in his brown eyes, dark hair and wrestler's physique.
“I took Ryan and Bobbie for ice skating and got ice cream,” said Bobby’s dad.
“Oh! What do I owe you for the skate rental and ice cream?” Lena said, fumbling for her purse.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Shane. Her son, Ryan and his boy, Bobby appeared behind him.
“Ready to go home, Honey?” Lena said to her son, kneeling down to eye level.
“No!” Ryan yelled as an embarrassed Lena grabbed Ryan, pulling him down the sidewalk and waving good-bye to Shane and Bobby.
Shane never asked Lena to stay for coffee (or a drink) and never had time to chat in the doorway. Whether Shane was picking Bobby up at Lena's house—or Lena was picking Ryan up at Shane's— pleasantries would be exchanged and then— zoom, off he would go.
“Oh— Lena, one second...” said Shane disappearing from the doorway.
Lena became excited. He must have tickets for something (and if he did, he wouldn't ask you). Seconds later Shane ran out to the sideway, handing a card to Lena. “Here—I wanted to give this to you.”
“What is it?” said Lena, opening the envelope.
“Bobby's birthday party invitation. We hope you can come.”
“Oh. Of course. Sure,” said Lena trying not to show her disappointment.
“You might want to stop hiding behind that mop of hair and those poor-fitting clothes, “said Danielle, sitting at Lena's kitchen counter, sipping a Mojito. “I know you’re still grieving over Roger, but you need to start living again. You’re only twenty-nine, you’re too young to be a widow.”
Danielle was right. It had been over a year since Lena’s husband had been killed in that canoeing accident. It was time to start living again. Thanks to a generous life insurance policy and an excellent series of investments, Lena was able to continue living in their upscale, master-planned community of Plush Run. But she had indeed let herself go, paying little care to her appearance. Lena knew she needed to get active again, start dating, and maybe fire-up that real estate license.
“There's a beautiful girl under those SteinMart clothes,” said Danielle.
“What's wrong with SteinMart,” said Lena.
“Its for women who've given up.” said Danielle, her phone beeping. Danielle pulled the phone out of her purse. “Hey! Check this one out, 'Plush Run Casino Night'! They need volunteers to man the blackjack tables and serve drinks. 'Help the ‘Plush Run Chorale’ raise money for the Pee-Wee soccer team's trip to Sweden.'”
“Ugh,” thought Lena, grimly. “Sounds like hell.”
“You’re going,” said Danielle.
“No, I’m not.
“It’s for your son's soccer team!” said Danielle. “—And Cory's too. We HAVE to volunteer! This is a great chance for you to get back in the swing of things.”
“Too soon,” said Lena.
“Don't you want our boys to go to Europe? What an opportunity!”
“They're a little young,” said Lena. “I don't think they'll get much out of it.”
“Travel broadens the mind, said Danielle, “This fundraiser will be fun and you need fun.”
The next day they met at the Fox and Hen bar in Old Town Plush Run. It was Danielle’s idea to get a drink before the meeting. Lena and Danielle both ordered Mojitos and chips. Lena was slightly jealous of her lovely friend who was also a bit younger. Danielle had gotten a big divorce settlement from her restaurant owner husband after catching him in bed with his eighteen year-old hostesses. Danielle now spent her days working on her degree in Circadian Studies at nearby East-Central Lancaster State. She prowled the campus, looking irresistible in her short-shorts, tank top and reading glasses, all the while having casual affairs with a different grad student each week. “The boys are cute,” Danielle would say, “But since I’m the only grad student with a million dollar home, I always end up feeling like a mom— paying for everything.”
“It could be worth it,” said Lena.
“When was the last time you were at the stylist?” asked Danielle, looking great today in a tight-fitting long-waisted top with yoga pants.
“June,” said Lena.
“That recently?” said Danielle
“Of last year.”
“Yep. I can tell. I’m making an appointment for you tomorrow. You’ve got to get that mess blown, trimmed and straightened.”
“I’m fine,” said Lena.
“No you’re not.”
“What do you know about Shane Evans?” Lena said, changing the subject, leaning forward, her voice low.
“Oh no,” said Danielle.
“’Oh no’, what?” said Lena. “Is he gay?”
“No. But he's out of your league. Don’t do that to yourself. Every woman in Plush Run is after Shane Evans.”
“Including you?” said Lena.
“Even the married ones,” said Danielle, “Especially the married ones.”
“You're not being supportive.”
“Give it up, Lena.”
“But I see him twice a week! Our kids play together! We’ve bonded.”
“He doesn’t know you exist,” said Danielle.
“Like you'd know,” said Lena.
“He’s divorced, loaded and gorgeous,” said Danielle. “Just understand what a big bull’s-eye that is. His playing field is HUGE.”
“Oh shit,” said Lena, looking off to the side.
“What?”
“That’s Brett Crater over there. Ryan got written up at Fuzzy Pals for throwing blocks at his daughter. We both got called into a conference. He's a total dickhead. Threatened to press charges.”
“Press charges against a four year-old?” said Danielle.
Brett was in his mid-thirties with a shaved head and beard. A general contractor before the housing collapse, he now spent his days happily unencumbered thanks to his well-paid corporate lawyer wife. It was also the reason he was sitting at the bar mid-afternoon on a Wednesday. He caught sight of the two ladies.
“Oh great…” mumbled Danielle, “He’s coming over.
Brett was good looking with a solid build and a chiseled face that, along with the trimmed beard, made him look rugged and a little older than he was.
“Hello ladies,” he said with what looked like a sneer.
“Hi Brett, said Danielle. “Wife out of town?”
“Sure is, honey” replied Brett. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Cleaning,” said Danielle, cringing.
“Uh huh,” said Brett as he looked down at Lena staring out the window. “I’m glad to see your boy hasn’t been beating up my daughter this week.”
“He wasn’t beating up on your daughter,” said Lena still not making eye contact. “He threw a block at her.”
“In the interests of keeping the peace, I’ll ignore that comment and wish you ladies a good day,” Brett said walking out the front door.
“He’s got a nice ass,”
said Danielle.
“Ewe,” said Lena.
“And he’s hung. Did you see that bulge?”
“Oh, God, please, don’t tell me you have thing for him,” said Lena.
“Sure. If I had no self-worth or had a tumor growing out of my head, I’d be totally hot for him— Oh no! We’re late!” said Danielle glancing at the clock on the wall.
Lena and Danielle arrived to the community center as the Casino Night volunteer meeting was winding down. Walking up to a table at the center of the room, Meg Stauffer, the event coordinator, told them that the only jobs still available were cocktail waitresses.
“Oh,” said Danielle, uncharacteristically subdued. “What do you think, Lena? Do you want to do it?”
“Cocktail waitress?” said Lena.
“It’s for a good cause,” said Danielle.
“Uh, girls, check out the cocktail outfits before you say that,” said a weary Meg as she reached into a bag and pulled out two tiny pieces of fabric. She tossed them on the table in front of them.
“Is this... Mylar?” said Lena holding up the weightless material.
“Probably,” said Meg. “The Casino Night fundraising package we purchased is big on realism. These outfits are replicas of the waitress outfits at “Wave” in Vegas. They’re only supposed to last one night before being discarded.”
“I can’t wear that,” said Lena.
“The fishnets will give you some coverage,” said Meg.
“No way…” said Lena.
“And there’s this too,” said Meg tossing a plastic bag with a thong and a pair of pasties inside.
“I’m not a stripper!” said Lena.
“Those are what you wear underneath. The outfit is a tad volatile.”
“Danielle, we can’t do this,” said a flustered Lena.
“Come on… it might be fun,” said Danielle lowering her voice to a whisper, “Its a good way for you to meet some guys.”
“Not like that,” Lena whispered back.
“I’m sure Shane Evans will be there,” said Danielle, smiling.
Getting to Know You
Lena put the thong and fishnet pantyhose on quickly. It was the pasties that were the problem. This was the first time (and it would be the last) she had ever worn such a thing. The pasties had adhesive in the back requiring you to get them on right the first time.
Lena took the one-inch diameter stars out of their pack and placed them over her nipples.
There.
If there were to be any wardrobe malfunctions, her honor would still be preserved.
She stepped into the body-hugging black Mylar leotard, shocked by its sheerness. Lena swore that she could see her pores through it. It had the smooth, tight sheen of a Mylar balloon and it was obvious that it could tear with little effort. “I can't wear this!” she screamed on the phone to Danielle. “Just one bump against a table and this thing is in shreds!”
“It’s just for six hours, Lena. And remember, they gave us a spare.”
“What spare? I didn’t get a spare,” said Lena.
“You didn’t get a spare?” said Danielle.
“No.”
“Oh.”
“And these heels! I’m not wearing these eff-me pumps! They’re a foot tall.”
“You’ll look gorgeous,” said Danielle patiently.
“I’m afraid of heights.”
Lena arrived at the community center, wearing a long coat and sneakers, carrying her heels in a Barney’s bag. She was ushered into a back room that was doubling as a women’s changing area.
She exchanged greetings with her fellow volunteers, some of whom she'd run into from time to time at the grocery store or at the pool. Most were wearing dealer attire— pants, blouse and a vest. Unlike Lena, they were fully clothed.
Standing in a corner of the back room Lena spied two other moms that had been saddled with cocktail duty. They were looking at themselves in a full-length mirror in their cocktail attire. Neither of them was in good shape. Both had a look of horror on their faces, unable to avert their gaze from their less than perfect bodies in the mirror. Lena knew one of the moms from Fuzzy Pals. “Hi Jean, said Lena, “So you're on cocktail duty too?”
“Uh, yes,” said Jean. “This is a train wreck. I can’t go out there like this.”
“Come on Jean,” said her friend Audrey, “Its for a good cause. If I can do it, so can you.”
Lena was feeling self-conscious now. She retreated to a back corner and hung up her coat. She slipped on the heels and was shocked to see that she was now a half a foot taller. She looked down and saw that her already long legs seemed to go on for half a mile. The outfit was strapless. It didn't just show her cleavage but most of her upper breasts.
“Hey Lena! Look at you!” said Jean excitedly. “You look great!”
“Yes, at least someone here can pull this off,” said Audrey sourly.
Lena walked over to the mirror, slowly, hobbled by the heels. She stopped in front of the full-length mirror, staring at the floor. Finally, after some seconds, she looked up. She had been transformed into some suburban siren, her straight brown hair cascading across bare, broad shoulders. Her breasts were ample and her waist and hips were in perfect proportion. She turned to her side and saw that her almost bare ass—covered only by a wisp of fishnet hosiery—hadn’t fallen during the last year of grieving. Lena was heartened that she looked good, but horrified that she had no say in what parts of her body got exposed. “I’m not doing this,” said Lena.
“If I looked like you, I wouldn’t think twice about doing this,” said Jean.
“If Jean and I can do it, you can do too,” said Audrey to Lena.
“Christ,” said a resigned Lena.
“Alright, ready?” Jean said to Audrey, taking a breath, “Let’s go.”
Jean and Audrey opened the door to main room and walked out. Lena stayed behind, getting her courage up.
Suddenly, from behind her, she heard a wolf-whistle.
“Whaaa?” Lena said as she whipped her head around to face Danielle.
“Look at you, girlfriend!” said Danielle. “You clean up good.”
Lena looked back at her petite friend, also fully costumed and in her heels. Danielle's back curved sharply outwards, giving her ass the look of a ledge. Lena had figured all along that Danielle would look perfect in her outfit, but she didn’t figure she’d look this perfect. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” said Lena.
“No, I suppose not, girlfriend. I don’t usually run around virtually naked while wearing seven inch heels.”
“Well, maybe you should,” said Lena.
“All right there, down girl. I don’t want to have to get a restraining order on you.”
“Sorry,” smiled Lena.
“Come on,” said Danielle, grabbing Lena’s hand and pulling her through the doorway.
“Hold on, not so fast,” said Lena. “I can’t walk very well.”
“Take it slow then,” said Danielle. “Believe me, being hobbled by too high of heels won’t hurt your tips.”
Danielle and Lena stepped out into the main room, now converted to a suburban gaming floor filled with roulette and blackjack tables. There was a bar at the front of the room. The guests hadn’t arrived yet but the volunteers were milling around. As Lena and Danielle entered the room the volunteers, both men and women, stopped and stared. A few of the men started applauding. “We know who’s going to be getting most of the tips tonight!” someone yelled. A horrified Lena turned to go back through the door just as Meg called out for everyone to gather around for a meeting.
Meg went through the basics (return all received cash immediately to the bar cash register and the highest bet was two hundred dollars). Lena noticed the male volunteers checking her out and doing a poor job of being subtle. Since it had been so long since she had been leered at, she naturally assumed that their gaze was directed at Danielle. But Danielle had moved several feet away and was talking on her phone, presumably
to one of her boy-toys. These men were looking at Lena.
“…and remember, have fun and let’s make some money for a good cause,” concluded Meg.
“What did I miss?” said Danielle, phone in her hand.
“The highest bet that people can make is two hundred dollars and make sure that any and all cash gets back to the register immediately,” said Lena.
It was a half-hour into the evening that Lena felt her first ass pinch. As the alcohol kicked-in, the patron's inhibitions started falling away. “Excuse me!” Lena said as she twisted around with her round drink tray balanced on her palm.
“Sorry, I just couldn’t resist,” said the middle-aged man, sitting next to his wife.
“I apologize for my husband,” said his wife. “He’s a pig.”
“That’s all right,” said Lena, cooling off, walking back up to the bar with her drink orders.
“Is that you, Lena?” said the bartender, Tom Davis, her neighbor from two doors down.
“It’s me,” she said handing him some cash and credit card receipts.
“You’re looking great,” said Tom.
“Thanks,” Lena smiled.
“And who’s the other cute one?” said Tom, “Oh—sorry... that didn't come out right.”
“What didn't?” said Lena.
“Implying that you were cute.”
“Oh,” said Lena.
“I was not trying to create a hostile work environment by calling you cute.”
“It’s okay, Tom,” Lena smiled, starting to feel a little better about herself.
As she walked across the room again with her drink order she was shocked by how much the crowd had grown in the last few minutes. The room was jammed and Lena had to push and slide herself through the throng, the gropes, grabs and pinches now coming in spades. Lena didn’t even try to confront the instigators, instead just yelling out “Excuse me!” as she ran the gauntlet.
Lena delivered her four drink orders. As she bent over to serve the fourth one she felt a wholesale grab of her left buttocks. “Jesus Christ,” she barked, turning around to face a drunk and very handsome Brett sitting at the blackjack table looking up at her with a smile that made her wet. “Honey, if I knew this was what you looked like under your saggy-ass clothes I would have never talked to you the way I did.”
