Chapter #19Switch with Cindy. by: Seuzz   "Sometimes I really wish I knew who designed some of these things," Cindy says. The look of distaste on her face as she pushes the clothes along the rack is almost painful to behold. "And then I think, Why would I want to know such a weird pervert?"
"I think this one might look good on you." You hold up one dress—black and tan, long and severe—against her frame.
Her expression, unbelievably, grows even more pained. "You're really good at picking out clothes for yourself, Yumi, but I'm not sure it translates to me." She pulls her frosted blonde hair back.
You wonder if "translate" was a veiled reference to your—Yumi's—ethnicity. Either Cindy is better than Chelsea at making her cutting remarks subtle, or she is more clueless about double meanings.
She lets out a huge sigh. "I always love parties because they give me a chance to buy new clothes. But then I actually go shopping, and ..." She bites her lip.
"Do you want to go to another store? I only picked this one because of the sale."
She shakes her head. "All the really good places are out of my budget. Stupid recession."
"Well, even window shopping isn't a bad way to spend a Saturday."
You expect her to argue, but look up to see her staring at the front of the store with a stricken look on her face. You follow her gaze: Finally. He must have got caught in traffic.
"Oh God, he's coming over here," Cindy whispers.
"Go hide in the dressing stalls until I get rid of him," you whisper back. "Here, take this, make it look like you're not running away." You shove a dress at her as she flees.
"Hello, er, Yumi," Will Prescott says coolly. "I was going to say 'Hello, ladies,' but suddenly you were alone."
You put your hand on your hip and give him a tired look. "What do you want?"
"The pleasure of your company?" But his eye is following Cindy, and he even drifts to the side to follow her journey.
"If you can't be human, can you at least be polite and look at me instead of my friend's ass?"
"Huh? Oh. Sure. Anyway, your friend's ass has now disappeared behind stall number ten, I think it says on the door."
"Good. Get in stall nine. Shave and a haircut's the password." He brushes past you and you pull out the dress you'd picked out earlier: big, floppy, easy to get into and out of. That in hand, you follow at a discreet distance behind.
You knock at the door to stall 10 and rummage in your purse. "He's gone," you murmur, and knock again. "Cindy?" There's a rustle and a sigh and the door opens. She steps out, smack into the new blank mask. She falls back onto the bench, and you swiftly move in behind her, shutting the door.
She must have gotten bored real fast, because luckily she had started getting undressed. It's the work of only a minute to finish pulling her sweater and undergarments off her. You pull off your own loose-fitting clothes as well and then pull on the long, sack-like dress you'd taken from the rack. Thus covered, you slip over to stall 9: Shave and a haircut, you rap. Two bits, comes the countersign. You open the stall door, to find the completely naked Will Prescott grinning and fondling a boner.
"You freaking pervert," you snap, and he laughs. You drop Yumi's old clothes and her purse to the floor next to him, scoop up his clothes, and twitch his mask away. Yumi reappears, sound asleep. Very quietly, you sneak out and back into stall 10.
The mask has not reappeared on Cindy's face yet, so you organize the clothes a bit before pulling the Yumi mask off your face and putting it into Cindy's purse. When her mask does reappear, you drop the Will mask onto her face.
Prescott reappears almost instantly, still with a boner. He blinks. "Did we switch?" he asks, but you hush him and motion him to quietly get dressed. When he's done he slips out, leaving you alone with Cindy's clothes and her mask. You sit down and put it on.
* * * * *
An hour later: "Hey, sweetums," you coo, and raise yourself on tiptoes so Seth can give you a wet smack on the lips. "Thanks for meeting me here. Hey guys," you add in a noticeably cooler tone to Jeremy Richards and Jason Lynch. They're not happy to see you either, by the looks of it.
Jason's greeting is insolent in both tone and words: "You must give really great blowjobs if Seth's willing to come to a place like this and eat rabbit food with you."
Seth stiffens; Jeremy pales; you gasp. There's a moment of frozen suspense.
"Well, you must give awesome blowjobs all the way around, Jason," you retort, "if anyone is willing to be seen in public with you."
Lynch snickers. "Yo, Javits, your girlfriend just called you a faggot."
Seth reaches down and squeezed your hand. "Hey, honey ..." he starts to say, but can't think of anything to follow it up with.
You—that is to say, Cindy Vredenburg—suspect that Jason Lynch is gay. It's not because he hasn't got a girlfriend and seems to have little luck with girls. That can be explained by the fact that he is a psychotic bastard with (if rumor is to be believed) a penis so small that it must reflect a medical condition. No, you suspect he is gay because he is almost fanatically attached to Steve Patterson and Gordon Black despite the way they heap abuse on him; and because he has an ability to read and sadistically manipulate a social situation that even Chelsea Cooper would have a hard time matching.
Right now, for instance, it is clear that he is insulting you so as to put Seth in a horrible dilemma—fight for your honor (such as it is) and cause a blow-up that will put him athwart Jason, Steve and Gordon—or infuriate you by backing down. And even if you let him back down, he will be utterly humiliated and thus kept well under Lynch's thumb.
It's a no-win situation, so all through the meal you sit in stony silence and pick at your salad while they eat their sandwiches. Jason dominates the conversation; Richards plays along in muted tones; Seth hardly says anything. Lynch acts as if nothing is amiss when the party breaks up—because, of course, from his point of view it has gone off perfectly.
Seth has to give you a ride home—Yumi provided the ride up to the mall—and the trip back is also silent. Several times Seth starts to speak, but always cuts himself off. At your house you ask him in a cool tone to come inside. He looks a little ghastly, but complies.
Up in your bedroom you open your walk-in closet, drop the spare bedspread onto the floor, and ask him to sit down. His face is a peculiar color by now, because this is the last thing he was expecting. You straddle his lap and talk in a very small voice without looking him in the eye.
"I want you to fuck me, Seth." With minute movements you unbutton the front of his shirt. "I want you to fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me slow. Make me hurt." He is frozen as you pull the tail of his shirt from of his pants and unbutton the latter. His cock isn't much swollen—he is too freaked out—as you pull it from his briefs to flop onto his leg. "Fuck me until I cry." The tears spring from you eyes. "And then I want you to go back to your friends and brag about what a whore I am and how I ask you to fuck me even though I know you don't even like me!" You break into uncontrollable sobs.
"Honey, you know I wouldn't do that—" he starts in an anguished voice and puts his hand to your face. You grab him by the wrist and twist the bracelet off.
"I don't want you wearing this," you sob. "You can fuck me, but I don't want you going around telling anyone that I'm anything but your whore! Because that's all I am to you!"
He puts his arms around you in a tentative embrace. He is sniffling, but you really let it pour out: tears and snot all down his front. You even delicately blow your nose onto him, and push drool out with your tongue to make everything extra gross and impressive. He mumbles inarticulate things that are meant to be comforting while you shudder and gasp and hiccup. After fifteen minutes of this he pulls back and lifts your face and asks if things are okay between you. You nod but still don't meet his eyes. You speak only to tell him to go home.
Once he's gone you drop the bracelet into the jewelry case and go into your private bathroom to clean up. You have to do your makeup from scratch, but that gives you a nice excuse to study and admire and simper over your new face. It's such a pretty one. Much prettier than Chelsea Cooper's.
"Seth was here for quite awhile," your mother observes from the sofa as you pass through on the way to the kitchen.
"We had things to discuss," you say in a firm and icy tone. She's always trying to mind your business for you.
Cindy is just a detour on the way to Seth or someone else. That's no reason not to enjoy your time in her at Meghan's party tonight. But you still have things you can do back in Blackwell's library, and you've had lots of drama for one day already.
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