Potion Perfect

by Billie Dale

  She returns with a template of sorts. It’s a rubberized mold of a dress, kind of like Polly Pocket’s clothes that I played with as a child. The mold opens in the back so it wraps around my body. Remember what Leah told me about their sizes? I wonder why she has a plus size mold.

  As she is taking measurements and making notes, I must know how a dress store that caters to the small and petite has something just the right size for me. The non-small and petite. “Mrs. Brandt, are all your dresses out front a size two and below?”

  “Yes, why do you ask?” she responds, distracted, busily making notes of dress specifics.

  “I’m wondering why it is you only sell ‘on the rack’ dresses so small but you have a plus size mold to fit me. I don’t mean to be rude, but big girls like pretty dresses too,” I murmur picking at my nails.

  “It’s true, we cater to smaller girls for the impulse sales,” stopping her ministrations her eyes thoughtful, “I have found, in my years of dress making, larger girls don’t often shop for elegant dresses. The customers I have who are bigger always custom order their gowns. A tailored dress fits so much better than one bought on a hanger, I encourage anyone curvy to have their dress made to fit,” hands on her hips, she takes a step back to evaluate the fit of the template. “Accentuating everyone’s best assets and beauty is key. As for having a mold in your size, the young man who came in, Kohl, told me all about you. I made sure I had a mold that would work perfectly for you since we are on a tight deadline. As I said, he is quite enamored with you. He spent fifteen minutes on the description of your chest. In all my years, I have never seen a young man light up so much when describing his girlfriend.”

  Butterflies flutter in my stomach that Kohl described me in such a captivating way, “I’m not his girlfriend, traditionally speaking. I’m a girl who is his friend but there’s nothing more.”

  “I’ve seen a lot with these old eyes and I know a man in love when I see him. You may consider yourselves friends but he’s vying for a whole lot more,” she nods with a knowing wink.

  “Do you tan easily?”

  Does he want more?

  A person who knows nothing about either of us thinks he loves me. Why would he still be messing around with other women if he had feelings for me? I’m so consumed with questions filling my brain I forget she asked me about tanning.

  With her questioning eyes still trained on me, waiting for my response, “Uh, I think I did as a kid. But my years spent inside, in books, have left me pale. Why?”

  Clapping her hands in delight, “I’m thinking a coral color will be fabulous with your hair and eyes.”

  Pondering for a second, I nod my head, “I guess I could get a spray tan.”

  “Yes, that’s perfect. All the great tan color without all the skin cancer worries. I have everything I need. I will get started on this immediately. Can you come back for a final fitting on Tuesday? Oh, do you need shoes?”

  “Yes, I can come back on Tuesday and yes, I need shoes or I could wear my Chucks with it. I don’t have any money to buy a nice pair of shoes.”

  Blink. Blink. Blink.

  Shaking her head, astonishment and slight revulsion in her eyes, “You will not wear Converse tennis shoes with this dress,” she snaps. “We will match you with some shoes when you come back to see how the dress fits.”

  Staring at my Converse, I squeak, “Thank you, Mrs. Brandt. I will see you Tuesday.”

  Wrapping me in a motherly hug, “You’re welcome, Tensanne. I can’t wait to see how this dress will turn out. You are going to be the Belle of the Ball.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Love makes the world go around, chocolate makes it bearable.

  —Tensanne’s inner thoughts

  Tensanne

  I HATE VISITING the eye doctor. I have been visiting regularly since I was four years old. I despise having my eyes dilated. Glasses equal insults.

  “Four Eyes.”

  “Window face.”

  “Geek girl.”

  Later it changed to, “Coke bottle wearing, fat ass,” teenagers being not so original with their insults.

  Kids are dicks. I learned early in life. They don’t like someone who’s different. They get jealous of someone who makes them feel inferior. They aim their aggression on someone they deem weaker than themselves. One kid can change your world as a child. They can either become your friend or become your enemy. All it takes is one popular person to say one mean thing in front of your peers and you become the target.

  Being accelerated drew a target on my back early in elementary school. Wearing glasses that got thicker every year, plus gaining weight, made the insults worse.

  I have always wanted to wear contacts but the thought of touching my eye gives me the heebie-jeebies. Ronnie’s dad has offered me an amazing opportunity. The thought of LASIK is terrifying but I’m ready to shed my glasses.

  Dr. Greg Camp’s office is warm and inviting. Soft, comfortable chairs line the walls, a small coffee table covered with magazines, a small nook in the corner offers toys for children to play with while they wait. Photos of famous people wearing glasses hang on the soft brown walls, interwoven with quirky photos of animals wearing glasses.

  I check in with the receptionist and take a seat in the waiting area, my legs bouncing with my nervous heart beating out of my chest.

  After fifteen minutes, a nurse calls, “Tensanne Craig,” and leads me into an exam room.

  Wringing my hands together, sitting in the big black exam chair. I wait for Dr. Camp to enter. The room is a light blue, off to the side is the refractor which is the machine that switches different lenses in front of your eyes to quickly determine which ones will correct your vision, the slit lamp, and the retinal camera also within reach of the chair. Across from the chair are an eye chart and a small desk.

  “Hello, Miss Craig,” Dr. Camp cheers, entering the room. “I understand you are here for a contact fitting and to learn about the benefits of LASIK surgery, yes?”

  “I have read quite a lot about LASIK and right now I’m not sure it’s something that I want to do; but yes, I would like to wear contacts. However, I’m terrified of touching my eye.”

  Nodding his head in understanding, Dr. Camp says, “That is very common. I will show you the best way to insert your lenses and if you are able, extended wear lenses are the best option for individuals with your phobia. Are you positive you are not interested in LASIK?”

  “Yes. Using a laser to cut away at my eye to correct my nearsightedness is not something appealing to me right now.”

  “Very well. Remove your glasses and I will begin your exam.”

  Doctor Camp gives me a thorough exam, explaining dilating my eyes is not necessary now, as I had it done a few months ago at my regular yearly exam.

  “The contacts I’m giving you are training lenses to use while we wait for the shipment of your prescription. You can wear these for three days at a time. If you notice they are bothering you when you try to sleep or are irritated when you wake in the mornings you will have to take them out each night,” he explains as he inserts the small flimsy plastic into my eyes. Once he’s finished, I blink to clear some haziness while he brings a mirror for me to see.

  Raising the mirror, I see cute brown eyes dazzling back at me. The contacts enhance the green and gold in my eyes, no longer hidden behind thick lenses. My face feels empty without the weight of my glasses, but the person blinking back at me is kind of cute. A small breeze passes across my skin and chimes jingle in my ears. Peeking at Dr. Camp at his desk, he doesn’t move, he didn’t hear the jingle. I heard the same sound and felt the same breeze the first time I drank the potion. I have heard the chimes several times over the past few weeks. I wonder if this is some of the potions magic giving me signs?

  Leaving Doctor Camp’s office, I head to The Brew Station. I feel good about myself for the first time in my life. My head held high, a little pep in my step, I get to see Kohl in a few days and tomorrow I get to pi
ck up my dress. I’m happy.

  My shift starts slow, the early afternoons are always our lull, it’s the four to five o’clock crowd craving their last caffeine fix of the day that swamps us. Once we get the machines clean, Leah and I sit down with our own coffee, taking a break while we can.

  My phone pings with a text:

  K: Whatcha doing, pretty girl?

  I can’t stop a smile from lighting up my face, loving that I was thinking of him as he was thinking of me.

  T: Having coffee with Leah

  K: RU working?

  T: Yep, just taking a break while it’s slow.

  “So, you won’t mind if I join you?” rumbles in my ear. Whipping around in my chair, my hand hits my coffee, the lid flies off, flinging a light mocha latte right into Kohls crotch.

  “Oh, shit,” I exclaim, quickly grabbing napkins wiping the coffee mess from his pants.

  “I guess we’re even now. I dumped coffee on you and now you dumped it on me. If you don’t stop rubbing, there is going to be a bigger problem down there,” he laughs, turning his coffee-soaked crotch away from me but not before I notice the growing bulge in his pants.

  “Oh, God,” I whine my face flaming tomato red.

  “I love it when you blush, Tennie Girl. Did you miss me?” he purrs, his warm breath tickling my ear causing my shoulder to draw up.

  “Yes,” I pant, jumping up and wrapping him in my arms, inhaling his succulent scent. “I’m glad you’re back. Wait, why are you back? You said you would see me New Year’s Eve.”

  “I was bored at home. I couldn’t sit there playing PlayStation anymore. Plus, I wanted to see you,” he says, pulling back away from me, “Let me look at you.”

  His eyes start at my feet, moving up my black yoga pants, over my apron, stopping at my chest briefly and ending at my eyes. Putting his hands on my cheeks he stares into my eyes, “You were wonderful with your glasses on, but now I can see all the colors in your eyes. The green and gold flecks all wrangled by a dark brown outer ring, your eyes are glowingly hypnotic.”

  His hold on my cheeks keeps my eyes on his, “Thank you,” I mumbled shyly.

  The bell above the door rings, signaling a customer and the end of our break.

  Dropping my shoulders, heaving a sigh, I pull out of his grasp, “I have to get back to work,”.

  Tucking a hair behind my ear running his finger along my jaw, “Text me when you get off, I’ll walk you back to your dorm and we can order some dinner,” he orders.

  Nodding my head, he walks out the door. Giving me a glorious chance to regard his nice, tight ass at the top of those long, long legs. A sigh escapes me at the magnificent that is Kohl’s backside.

  “You two are so cute together,” Leah says, shocking me, I forgot she was there.

  “What? We’re not together. We’re friends.”

  “Girl, there is so much more there than friendship. The chemistry between you two can be felt in the air. His eyes feast on you like you’re his last meal and you swoon so hard when he’s near you forget where you are. That is more than friends.”

  “I wish it were that way. He really is amazing. He’s still seeing other girls, so I know you’re misunderstanding the way he looks at me. For Kohl, we’re just friends,” I say sadly.

  * * *

  Kohl

  I couldn’t stand sitting at home anymore. I missed her too much. I missed her laugh, her smell, her smile, I missed listening to her ramble about random things. I missed her, everything that makes her Tensanne.

  When I planned to surprise her, I never thought it would get me a coffee shot to the crotch. I shouldn’t expect anything less though. I know she was trying to help but if she didn’t stop rubbing my dick with those napkins she was going to be in for one hell of a surprise and have a bigger mess to clean up.

  Her head is positioned at the right height, her warm breath caressing the outside of my pants, her hands moving in an up and down rhythm had ‘little Kohl’ starting to stand at attention. My mind creating a much more erotic scene in a much more private place. One involving her on her knee’s much like she is now and her mouth sliding along my cock while her hands continue to rub. Her blush when I stopped her sends me right over the edge, not even thoughts of Grandma could keep him from rising.

  I had to switch gears, a safer subject. Asking her if she missed me seemed like the right direction to go.

  Wrong, again.

  When she wrapped her arms around me and pressed her curves into my body, what should have been an innocent hug became my ultimate fantasy. I wanted to rub my hands all over her plump round ass, pulling her into my erection; I wanted to kiss the spot right below her ear, I wanted to claim every inch of her. Right here, right now, in this coffee shop. Screw going someplace private, my need for her is too great.

  I need to get myself under control. Damn, this girl and the fact that I haven’t been laid in while is making control impossible. I fail miserably at keeping my body in check.

  Pulling her back so I can behold her is my final mistake.

  I love her glasses. They were so thick they magnified those brilliant eyes but without them, I can see all the spectacular color bursting in her eyes. Colors the lenses hid. Her brown eyes are not only chocolate they’re a spectrum of greens, golds, and browns all surrounded by a dark brown ring. They’re mesmerizing and put me under her spell.

  Thank god, a customer came in or I was going in for a taste. I hadn’t tasted her since Christmas. The imaginary line she has drawn making us friends, is blurring and disappearing. I want her. I need her. She is the next breath I want to take. I’m done being in the friend zone. I will start the New Year with Tensanne Craig as mine.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Size Matters”

  —sticker seen on the back of a car, true statement.

  Tensanne

  MY DRESS FITTING on Tuesday was amazing. I never believed I could feel so beautiful, so comfortable, in my own skin, but I did. I can’t wait for Kohl and Ronnie to see this dress. Plus, the shoes Mrs. Brandt gave me are straight out of a fairy tale, only I’ll make sure I don’t lose one at midnight.

  Today is the day.

  Ronnie is on her way to get me so we can beautify ourselves, as she puts it. I’ve never been to a spa; I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. A text alerts me she has arrived. I grab my purse and coat heading out the door to the awaiting Uber. Only there is no Uber waiting in the circle drive. Searching the area confused, I grab my phone to text Ronnie when a horn honks, bringing my attention to the parking lot across from the dorm.

  Ronnie’s waving her arms with a huge smile. Walking across the street to meet her I ask, “What are you doing? Where’s our ride?”

  Waving her hand at the vehicle she is standing next to, like a Price is Right girl offering up the next prize, “This is our ride. My Christmas present from Daddy,” she exclaims.

  Looking to the SUV she is displaying I gasp. A candy apple red Tesla Model X.

  “Isn’t she pretty?” she asks. “Daddy spared nothing, check this out,” she says pressing a button on the remote making the back doors open toward the sky and out away from the vehicle, Falcon Wings is what they are called. Her eyes sparkle when she explains, “Plus, it’s obnoxiously fast; it goes from zero to sixty in two point nine seconds. No more Uber’s, Ten,” she says with glee. “What do you think?”

  “I’m speechless, it’s so pretty and space aged.”

  Hurrying me into the vehicle, she says, “Come on, come on. We’re going to be late for our appointment.”

  Opening the passenger door, I slide onto the black leather that’s soft like butter and inhale the new car scent. I notice my seat is toasty warm on my cold legs. “Bun warmers,” Ronnie answers sensing my confusion. “We never have to sit on cold seats again. This pretty baby has seat warmers.” Giggling she puts the heaven on wheels, in reverse, backs out of her parking space, puts it in drive and presses the gas throwing my head back against the headrest a
nd zooms out of the parking lot.

  Pulling into the only parking spot available, we exit the nice warm vehicle, my legs protesting as the cold air meets the warmth ‘the bun warmers’ left behind, we make our way into Hand Job Spa and Salon.

  I kid you not, that is what the place is called. Small towns, got to love them.

  “Hello, Welcome to Hand Job,” a receptionist greets. I cover my mouth to hide the snicker that bubbles to the surface. Yes, my mind is like a fourteen-year-old boy.

  Nudging me with her elbow to stifle my giggles, Ronnie greets, “Hello, we have an eight o’clock full treatment.”

  “Great,” the receptionist says, “What would you like to start with? Spray tan, nails, hair, waxing or makeup?”

  Wait, what? Did she say waxing?

  Ronnie whispers to me, “Close your mouth,” bringing my gaping jaw to my attention. I correct myself while she tells the lady, “We’ll start with the waxing, please.”

  “Wonderful, follow me,” the nice lady responds.

  Walking down the serene hallway full of waterfall sounds and soothing relaxation rocks, Ronnie leans over and whispers, “You will thank me later for the waxing.”

  Gritting my teeth with a grim smile, “I doubt that,” I respond.

  “Is this your first time?” the receptionist asks, entirely too chipper for someone leading me to my doom. She leads me into a room and directs Ronnie into the room across the hall.

  “Uh, yes,” I say, my voice quivering.

  “Relax, it’ll be over before you know it and you’ll be so happy with the results. Undress from the waist down and cover yourself with the cloth,” she assures me, patting me on the shoulder. “Molly will be with you shortly.”

  Molly. That’s a sweet name. How bad can it be with a technician named Molly?

  Molly breezes into the room, a spritely little woman with a red hair cut pixie style, a cute little nose ring, and colorful tattoos. There’s no way this person could hurt me, she’s seems too sweet. If I had known I was going to suffer from a this-is-how-I-die level of pain, I would have pre-gamed with ample amounts of wine.