by D. L. Savage
“Honestly, Cleo, you look amazing,” Tawna gushed. “I think you've nailed it!”
“Yeah, but ...” I said, feeling my face once more fall in frustration, the breath escaping my lips in a sad sigh like a quickly deflating balloon.
“But what?” she asked, confused. “What’s that expression for?”
“I don’t know,” I murmured. “I guess like you, when I do something I want do it well and in this case there’s one thing that's never gonna change ...”
“What’s that?” she asked gently.
I paused, my mind swimming as I tried to work out how to put it into words.
“You’re so pretty,” I began, “but I’ll always look like ... a dude.”
To my surprise Tawna just let out another loud whoop of laughter and shaking her head, like I’d said something totally insane.
“This?” she said, pointing to her face. “This is just an illusion. Oh boy, you wanna know how long I spend on makeup? And you know what I look like underneath it all? Grab those Sephora bags and follow me ...”
Once again she became a whirlwind of energy, grabbing my hand and frog marching me through her incredible apartment towards the large en suite bathroom that look like something from a high-end hotel, all done out in glittering black and white checkerboard tiles, a deliciously sweet scent hanging in the air as she bundled us both inside.
“Here,” she said as she beckoned me to join her at the large mirror where she stood facing her reflection, “come and stand right here next to me.”
I did as instructed, taking my place next to her then setting down the Sephora bag that contained my brand new foundation, watching on as Tawna quickly scraped her glossy chestnut hair into a high ponytail then snatched up a make up wipe and began smushing it aggressively around her pretty face until it was thoroughly caked with makeup, tossing it aside then pulling out a second, followed by a third, scrubbing and scrubbing at her face until every last scrap of make up was gone.
“How about now?” she said forcefully, gesturing to her flushed pink face. “Tell me truthfully. Am I pretty now?”
I stared at her, slowly processing what I was looking at.
On one level of course she was still cute, what with her perfectly symmetrical, pixie-like features and her plump pink lips. But now that the make-up was gone, I saw that there were imperfections, too, such as the dark circles that rimmed her eyes and the blemishes that spotted her cheeks and chin. Her eyes looked way smaller, now that they weren’t rimmed in eyeliner and eye shadow, and overall I guess she looked kinda ... boyish.
“Now do you understand?” she asked emphatically. “Now d’you you see just how much of an illusion all that crap is?”
I nodded as the truth slowly began to sink in.
What's more, I felt something else, too; a tingling excitement building inside me as I began to realize that maybe, with a little luck and some carefully applied make-up, I might actually look … pretty?
8
Tawna’s method of instruction was for me to copy her actions, following along as she applied her makeup in the huge bathroom mirror, explaining each step of the way. First we dabbed on the primer, then we worked concealer into the problem areas on our faces – the dark circles and blemishes and, in my case, the subtle darkness of my beard area, even after I’d shaved again.
Then it was time for foundation. I felt kinda foolish as we began dabbing at our faces using two strange egg -shaped sponges called ‘beauty blenders’ which Tawna assured me were apparently awesome for putting on make-up. And as I saw how well the sponges worked, I quickly understood why she used them.
Eyeliner proved a little more tricky, and after a few failed attempts (I’d drawn a line so crooked across my eyelids that it looked like it had been done by a child playing dress up), Tawna had to step in to save the day, dabbing at my eyelids with a q-tip and eyeliner brush, her pretty was face right up close to mine and my senses filling with the candy scent of her perfume as she fixed intently on my eyelids, crafting what was apparently known as a ‘winged’ technique, the pitch black makeup sweeping out past my eyelids themselves to give the illusion of huge, cartoonish eyes.
“You'll get the hang of it,” she assured me gently as she stood back to take in her handiwork. “It just takes a little practice is all.”
I found myself smiling at the strangely comforting thought of myself doing this again sometime. Because I had to admit there was something super fun about this part of the evening – the dressing up and the makeup. It was like a whole new world had opened up before me and I felt like I’d lifted the lid on a whole new treasure box of fun.
Once my eyes were complete, she even let me pick out which shade of lipstick I want to wear from the huge selection in her collection, nodding, impressed as I selected a vibrant pastel orange color.
“Good choice,” she grinned. “Pastels are totally in right now. Just look at Taylor Swift.”
“D’you want some matching nail polish to go with?” Tawna added.
“Why not? I grinned, my stomach tingling with excitement.
You see, I couldn't stop staring at my face, almost unable to believe that the pretty girl in the mirror was even me. It was incredible, the difference all that make-up had made. And sure enough, Tawna had shown me that with a little cream here and a little powder there, you really could go from a boring boy to a stunningly beautiful girl.
“Hey, Cleo, you want another glass of wine before we head out?” she asked just then.
“Go out?” I gasped, my stomach flipping over on itself. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“What?” Tawna said, an impish grin dancing on her lips. “You seriously think we're gonna get all dolled up like this just to stay in on a Saturday night? Hell no!”
9
“Are you sure I look okay?” I shouted, having to raise my voice to be heard over the pulsing beat of the music.
“Trust me,” Tawna shouted back, “you look fabulous, darling.”
As we stood near the bar of the busy nightclub, the disco lights glittering and cascading around us, I caught occasional glimpses of myself in the mirrored walls and pillars of the club, and despite my doubts at passing, for maybe the first time in my life, I definitely felt sexy. I felt feminine and playful, and hell, I even felt beautiful.
“I told you this would be fun,” Tawna grinned.
As she took a long pull on the straw of her cocktail, her dark eyes closing in pleasure, her slim body slinking to the propulsive beat of the EDM track that was currently throbbing at ear-splitting volume from the sound system, I felt a fresh rush of tenderness for her.
And even though she looked incredible, dressed in a hot pink strapless mini dress, she felt more like a friend or even a sister to me, rather than the cute sexy girl I’d been so desperate to bang, back when I’d been boring old Leo.
What’s more, I knew for sure that this wasn’t gonna be a one-off experience. Instead, I felt like I was right at the start of a brand-new adventure, a secret second life that I’d return to, again and again, for the rest of my days.
I lifted my cocktail to my lips and sipped, savoring its strong sweet taste as I let the lights and music wash over me, my imagination quickly getting carried away as I daydreamed about all the future shopping sprees and makeovers and nights out like this that Tawna and I might go on in the future. Because even though we hadn’t explicitly spoken about it, I just knew she felt the same way that I did ...
Just then something startled me out of my thoughts and I jumped in surprise as I felt hands snaking around my waist from behind, a loud malve voice murmuring in my ear. “Are you tired?”
Am I what?!
Even though I’d heard the cheesy pick-up-line a hundred times before (I’d even used it on a couple of occasions), at that moment I didn’t even twig what was happening, instead just turning around to face the total stranger – some corny-looking blonde dude a few years older than me, dressed in a cheap pale blue shirt and jea
ns – processing his question genuinely.
“Why would I be tired?” I asked, wrinkling my brow in confusion.
“Because you’ve been running through my dreams all night,” he replied with a sleazy grin as I felt my stomach sink.
“I’m uh ... I’m sorry,” I muttered, shaking my head and backing away from him, holding up my free hand as I inched free from his clammy grip on my waist, his eyes still following me hopefully like I was about to change my mind and jump straight into bed with him just because of his corny-ass pick up line.
I turned to Tawna for help, but I saw that she was trying to extricate herself from another almost identical sleazeball who I guessed must be my guy’s buddy.
Sure enough, I heard her let out an audible groan at whatever this douchebag had just whispered in her ear, not even trying to mask her disgust as she stepped away from him then grabbed my arm, marching us to safety to a table at the edge of the dance floor.
“Oh my god,” I laughed once we were out of earshot. “Those guys were awful!”
“Get used to it,” she sighed, rolling her big brown eyes. “Because that's going to keep happening all night long ...”
“Really?” I replied, hardly able to believe it.
“Totally,” Tawna replied. “Think about it. Saturday night at the club, all the guys out looking to get laid, trying their cheesy-ass pick up lines? Tell me that wasn’t you too at some point, Leo?”
As she spoke my old name, I felt a jolt of embarrassment, one cringeworthy memory after another flashing through my brain; all those times I’d done the exact same thing and never once had it been successful.
All of a sudden I felt like I had a whole new insight into just why I’d been single this whole freaking time. It was because I wasn't treating girls like real three-dimensional people, but instead like objects to lust after and trick ...
And I was about to announce my big revelation to Tawna when her pretty face lit up and she threw her hands up in excitement, laughing, “Oh my god, he came!”
“Who came?” I croaked, following her line of sight to the doorway, where a tall and surprisingly handsome guy was smiling and waving back at us. He seemed to stand out from his surroundings, his rugged face glinting in the flashing lights, his body moving confidently and easily through the crowd as he made his way toward us, and I found myself puzzling over where I’d seen him before.
Had Tawna brought him into the bar with her sometime?
For a moment, I even thought he might be some minor celebrity or something.
But just as he reached the table, I realized just where I knew him from and I felt my face flush with heat.
“Julio, this is Cleo,” Tawna purred, gesturing in my direction, “Cleo ... Julio.”
“Oh hey, I whispered, reaching out to shake his hand, a girly giggle escaping my lips as he caught me by surprise, pulling my hand right up to his mouth, my stomach jolting with excitement as his thick sensuous lips pressing gently touched against my skin in a kiss, while my mind danced and swirled with the image I’d seen on Tawna’s cellphone, of his hard, thick cock ...
10
To my surprise, the three of us actually had an awesome time at the club. After everything that Tawna had said about having nothing in common with Julio, I wasn’t expecting him to be much fun. And maybe in a dinner date setting he might have been kinda hard work, but out in a nightclub environment he actually seemed like pretty great company, buying us drinks, laughing at our jokes (although I suspected that sometimes that he didn't totally understand them), and most of all remaining attentive to our needs without ever pushing us to do anything we didn’t feel comfortable doing.
A real gentleman in other words.
What’s more, it felt like we were the ones in control, not him, and I found myself enjoying the sensation. Back when I'd been a guy, it always felt like I was chasing around after girls with my tongue lolling out, ready to jump through hoops in the vague hope they’d go to bed with me. But now the shoe (or should I say stiletto) was truly on the other foot!
After a few drinks we naturally gravitated onto the dance floor and I had to admit, I actually felt a little jealous as Julio and Tawna began dancing together, reminding myself that obviously that was gonna happen (they were dating, after all), but even so, some weird part of me wished that it was me he was dancing with.
The night flashed by in a total whirl and before we knew it the house lights came on, and I realised it must be three or four in the evening.
“We should all go back to mine,” Tawna announced excitedly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she added, “I’ve got some molly, if you guys want to party?”
* * *
So that's how I found myself back at Tawna’s apartment again, sprawled out on her tan leather couch, my bare legs resting over hers and a huge grin plastered to my lips as I felt the Molly sweep and buzz through my veins, bringing with it a delicious sensation of freedom that seemed to flow all through my tingling body.
“Two drinks for two beautiful ladies,” Julio announced in his halting English just then, emerging from the kitchen with two more glasses of white wine.
“I told you what he does for a living, right?” Tawna giggled as he handed us our glasses.
“No,” I replied with a shrug.
“He’s a stripper,” she giggled.
“No way,” I gasped, my eyes widening. But at the same time, as I stared at him standing there in the doorway, his crisp tailored shirt hugging what looked like a super sculpted bod beneath, I could kind of imagine it. “That’s insane,” I murmured..
“Hey Julio,” Tawna called out, “why don’t you show us your routine!”
“You really wanna see?” he grinned back, his bright white teeth flashing at us.
“Yeah, we do!” Tawna laughed, while I shook my head emphatically no.
But Julio didn’t seem to notice my protests, racing off out of the room for a few moments. We could hear him opening cupboards in the kitchen over the soft throb of the music pumping out of the stereo, and I wondered what the hell he was even doing back there. But when he returned a few moments later, a towel in one hand and a can of whipped cream in the other, I felt my stomach twist with nervous dread.
No fucking way ...
I’d seen movies of this kind of routine online – horny drunk women and buff male strippers – and I knew just how it ended. But surely that wasn’t gonna happen tonight? Surely his shorts would stay on at least?
Confident as anything, Julio strode over to the speaker system, reaching out and turning the knob, so that the beat of the track came pounding out at full volume, competing with the deafening thud of my heart as he set down the towel and the cream on the coffee table in front of us, then began to move his toned body in time to the beat, as Tawna and I watched him from the safety of the couch.
And even though I was trying to tell myself that Julio’s dance did little other than make me embarrassed, at the same time I couldn't tear my eyes off him as he slowly began to peel open his shirt, button by tantalizing button, slowy revealing a broad, tanned, muscular chest beneath, more perfect than I could’ve ever imagined. Damn, he was like a swimwear model or something, complete with a full six pack, glistening pecs and bulging biceps to boot.
I felt my heart pick up pace as he let the shirt drop to the floor then turned his attention to his pants, unzipping them slowly to reveal a pair of tight white briefs beneath, and as he slid his pants down over his toned thighs to reveal a pretty huge bulge, it was clear that he was working in the right profession.
Despite the fact that my face was flushing beet red, I still couldn’t stop my hungry gaze from flashing right between his legs as he began to swing his hips, teasing us with that meaty bulge as he took a few steps towards us, kicking off his pants, leaving him just in his boxers, right there before us.
To my surprise, Tawna lurched forward and began fumbling with her purse at her feet, rooting around inside it. For a moment I wond
ered what she was doing. But a second later she pulled out a dollar bill, brandishing it in the air and waving it at him.
“That’s it baby,” she giggled, “come to momma ...”
As Julio pushed his crotch right towards her face, she reached out and took hold of the elasticated waistband of his briefs, pulling them open with a long pink fingernail and making sure to take a good hard peek inside his shorts before depositing her dollar bill, licking her lips afterwards like the cat that had gotten the cream.
And it seemed as if Julio’s routine wasn’t over yet. Because a moment later he began inching his shorts down around his thighs.
I felt my heart rise into my throat, my mouth growing dry as his package slowly came into view: first the tight black curls of his pubic hair, then his thick, half-hard shaft, then the bulbous purple head, and finally a pair of smoothly shaved, low-slung balls beneath.
Tawna let out a whoop of delight as he began to jog his hips, causing his long semi-hard cock to swing in a circular, helicopter motion between his muscular thighs, while I watched on, rooted to the couch next to her, overcome by a heady mixture of shame and horror and excitement all at once.
I quickly crossed my legs, shifting uncomfortably on the couch, suddenly aware that my own cock was throbbing hard in my panties, and hoping to god that Tawna hadn’t noticed my bulge. There was no point in denying it; my body was telling the truth even if my mind was still struggling with what was happening: Julio’s perfect body was turning me on, more than I could’ve ever imagined.
Just then Tawna let out another loud whoop of delight as he snatched up the canister of whipped cream from the coffee table, then proceeded to spray it in a long creamy trail, all the way down his glistening abs so that it finished right at the base of his cock.
“Desert is served,” he grinned, strutting straight toward me and offering me his body. And while I felt a powerful pang of slutty excitement at the thought of actually giving in to the strange urges that were coursing through me, of course I shook my head no.
