Okay, I’ll have to continue my “Thanksgiving recap” tomorrow. I wanted to mention a few things that happened last night.
Cambridge is an interesting place. If I was really an attractive single young woman, this might be the perfect place to live. The area is teeming with young singles because of the numerous colleges. Cambridge is also the home to MIT and Harvard. You can almost smell the intelligence in the air. This creates and interesting dynamic that I think affects the people and businesses of Cambridge.
Which brings me to where I work.
It’s an eclectic place. It’s part cocktail lounge and part “mom and pops dinner”. You can get a killer drink and a blue plate special all at the same time. The wait staff is hip and sexy. I struggle with the hip part because I’m really over a decade older than I look—but I make up with the sexy part. I learned early on showing a bit of cleavage and sexy stride got me better tips.
The original Ashlyn was a party girl—and she knew a lot of people. On a fairly often basis, customers of the lounge come running up to me and give me a hug. They give me the old “Wow, where have you been?” or “Are you going to this party or that party?” I’ve gotten pretty adept at pretending I recognize everyone.
Which brings me to table 1 in the private dining room, party of four.
For a Tuesday night we were “in the weeds” which is restaurant slang for being really busy. I was in a funky mood when I had gotten dressed for work, so I probably pushed the sexy thing a little far—short, short skirt and a top that looked painted on. So when I walked up to my “party of four” and it turned out to be a table of middle-aged guys, I new I was going to well in the tips department.
I give them a big smile. “So what can I get you boys this evening?”
“Hello babe.” One of the four acted like he knew me. He had Italian features and his suit looked high dollar.
I hesitated, unsure if I was reading him correctly.
“You don’t remember me!” He feigned being hurt, “How could you forget me? It’s me, Anthony… you danced naked for me during your audition.”
I blushed all the way to my toes, but the little pieces of info clicked into place for me. Right after I decided to live Ashlyn’s life and caught a train to Cambridge, the first thing I did was check the messages on her/my phone. There was a message from an Anthony who ran a strip club—he was disappointed I had decided to turn the job down.
“Anthony! Sorry, it’s kind of dark in here. I didn’t recognize you.” I wasn’t sure how well Ashlyn new this guy, so I leaned over and gave him a hug. I’ve found guys never turn down a hug from a girl as stacked as me.
“So this is what you are doing instead of dancing? What a waste of your talents.” He turns to his companions. “This is the redhead I was telling you about. You should see her tits, they are world class.”
One of the other gentlemen pipes up. “You have any work done?”
The question kind of caught me off guard. It was a rude question, but the guy was so straight forward I could tell he wasn’t trying to be offensive. I really didn’t know, but I didn’t think so, so I told him no.
“Amazing.” He says.
“What I tell you!” Anthony tells his companions.
I took their drink orders, and ran off.
They ended up staying for a couple of hours. I ended up spending a lot of time at their table. At one point they demanded I sit and have a drink with them. Since it was the private dining room I didn’t see the harm. We sit, drink and tell dirty jokes. It was actually kind of fun.
Finally they decide it was time to leave. I present the bill and Anthony pulls out an envelope. From the envelope he pulls out a gift certificate. I see the amount on the certificate.
“Wow. What a nice gift! Someone must really like you. I’ll go get your change.”
“Nah, you keep the change.” He motions for me to come closer. “Actually the gift certificate was an anonymous gift. It just showed up in the mail.”
“Lucky you.” I say.
“No, lucky you.” He replies back.
He pulls out a huge roll of cash. He takes two one hundred dollar bills off the top and shows them to me.
“Come closer.” He says to me.
I get right up next to him.
“Lean down.”
I hesitate, uncertain as to what he was doing—but he had been kind to me all evening, so I decide to trust him.
He looks me in the eyes. “I know why you turned down the job, and I understand. What you don’t know is I run a classy joint—and what you did for us this evening, taking care of four businessmen, making conversation and sharing a drink isn’t all that different from what my girls do at the club.” He pauses. “They just do it with less clothing.”
He folds the bills and slides them down into my cleavage.
“Thank you.” I awkwardly say to him.
I turn to leave.
“How would like to double that two hundred?” He says to me.
“Excuse me?” I was surprised.
“I’d like my business associates to see those world class tits of yours. Take off your top and I’ll tack on another two hundred to the tip.”
A million thoughts entered my head at that moment.
And I was conflicted.
I’ve enjoyed dressing up in short skirts and tight low tops, flaunting my borrowed good looks. It’s like I’ve been in costume in a play, and I have been having fun with the part.
Up to this point it’s been all harmless and fun.
The way these guys were looking at me—this was different. If I did what he asked I would be crossing some kind of line.
The money could help cover my trip to Texas. If I did this, what kind of girl does that make me? And does it matter? I may not be in this body in six months.
I was repulsed, yet intrigued that I could make so much money just for flashing my boobs at these guys.
“Right now? Here? Someone could walk in.” Maybe I was looking for a way to say no without saying it.
“I’ll add another hundred on for the risk.” He took off three one hundred dollar bills off his roll of cash.
“Deal.” I couldn’t believe I said it. My stomach felt sick and my heart started to race.
I reached for my top and I started to quickly pull it off—I had a band aid mentality, do it quickly and get it over with.
“Whoa! Slow down and take it easy. Go nice and slow, let us enjoy it. Give us a show.”
So I take my time. I remove my top and stand there for a moment in my bra. I had worn one of my sexier ones. I reach behind and undo the clasp of my bra. I turn away from the men and totally remove it. I turn back and face them—topless.
I let them get a good look—they paid for it.
The men made all sorts of appreciative noises. “Those are some fine looking tits.” One of them announced.
I walked over to Anthony with my hand out. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card and handed it to me along with the three hundred dollars.
“You could make this kind of money every night.” He says to me. “I have a soft spot for red heads Ash, you still have a job if you want it.”
I get dressed. They watch.
Once I’m fully dressed everyone is pleasant again. It’s like it never happened; only I’m 500 + richer.
I know I should be disgusted with myself—but I keep thinking “Those idiots just paid three hundred dollars to see my boobs.”
I walked the gentlemen to the door, wish them a good night, and go back to pick up the check and gift certificate. When I get it, I look at the price again—It more than covered the bill.
There was also some writing on it.
It said: Be sure to ask for Ashlyn. I’m a big fan of hers. From a secret admirer.
I froze when I read it. Anthony probably assumed that the secret admirer was for him—but it doesn’t say “from YOUR secret admirer”. It says “from A secret admirer.
My intuition was telling me that maybe this was my admirer.
I’m not sure what to think. I probably ought to have lunch with Art and run this by him. We’ve got things to talk about anyway. I need to pick on him for sleeping with a dude, and I’m sure he needs to do the same to me for showing my boobs for money.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Jake/Ashlyn--Thanksgiving Part 1
Tuesday, a week ago, I was playing my favorite game of dressing up in lingerie in front of my big mirror, when my little pink cell phone rings and I glance at the screen. The caller ID reads: Mom
I’ve been meaning to contact Ashlyn’s parents. I’ve been Ashlyn for nearly 3 months now, and every week since getting over the initial shock of turning into this curvy red head, I have told myself I need to call them.
It’s just that I don’t know how to have a mom and dad. I’ve been without much family for a long time; my parents died 3 weeks before my seventeenth birthday.
In a previous life, I was an animator. To be honest, I was an animator because I needed an outlet for my overactive imagination and creative energies. Having an overactive imagination is both a blessing and a curse. Sure, it helped me with a job that I enjoyed doing—but that same imagination has caused me to “live” the last moments of my parent’s life—over and over in my head.
We lived in a suburb of Dallas then, and my folks were out on their “date night”. It was usually just dinner and a movie, but it was their time together. I remember them being very affectionate—to the point they were embarrassing to me whenever I had friends over.
It was a freak accident. They were driving home on highway 75. I imagined my dad had the radio on and tuned to the oldies station—he liked to sing along to the music. Sometimes mom sang with him. Dad would steer with one hand and with other, hold my mother’s hand. That night they were driving behind an eighteen-wheeler which was hauling a fork lift on a flat trailer.
The truck driver knew the height of his truck, and when he read the height of the overpass, he knew his truck would have no problem going under the bridge. What he didn’t consider was the height of the fork lift that sat on the trailer of his truck—or that the persons who loaded the fork lift hadn’t bothered to lower the “forks” all the way to the ground.
The forklift hit the overpass and toppled off the trailer—directly in front of my parent’s car.
The police told me it was all over in seconds—that they didn’t suffer. Unfortunately, another quality an animator needs is a real good sense of time. You would be amazed what you can do in three seconds. Watch a basketball game-- a player can receive the ball, dribble once and shoot the ball to win the game in the last three seconds.
The idea that they might have not had the time to react, but to realize what was about to happen, haunts me.
For the year until I turned eighteen, I lived with my Uncle, my father’s older brother. The man was a traveling salesman and I barely saw him the entire time I stayed under his roof. The situation was fine with me as the man was a mean drunk. To his credit, he wasn’t all bad; he did teach me to play poker.
I’m not looking for sympathy; I’m just trying to make you understand. It’s been seventeen years since I’ve had any kind of family situation—and since I have had three months to get used to boobs jiggling on my chest, I was currently more freaked out about being someone’s daughter than being a girl.
I took a deep breath and answered to phone.
“Hi mom.”
“Ashlyn honey! Are you okay? Why haven’t you called?” My “mother” spoke in a thick New England accent.
I made up some lame excuse about being busy with my new waitress job—she seemed to buy it.
“So your Father and I were wondering if we should expect you on Thursday?”
“Thursday?” I asked.
“Yes, Thursday. Thanksgiving. You know, the time of year when I cook enough food to feed a small army? Your father plants himself in front of the TV to watch football?”
I had vague memories of just that kind of thing happening in my childhood. It sounded nice.
“Well?” She asked impatiently, “Do you have other plans?”
I didn’t have other plans. To be honest, the holiday was barely on my radar—I’ve been working every shift I could at the lounge trying to get ahead a little. It’s been my entire focus for the past couple of weeks. I have a trip to Texas to pay for above my usual expenses.
I looked into the mirror and saw my reflection—long red hair, busty and wearing a black teddy. I had to look away; it felt creepy to be dressed like this while talking to this body’s mother.
“Um no, I don’t have other plans…” I said grabbing a silk robe and slipping it on.
“Then it’s settled. We see you Thursday. You and your plus one.” See said.
“Plus one? I don’t plan to bring anyone.” I say slightly confused.
“Honey, you say that every year, and every year you show up with some young man.”
“This year will be different.” I assure her.
“Whatever. See you Thursday. I’m off to the market. Love you sweetheart. Bye!”
“I love you too Mom.” It felt like I should say that back to her, but I choked up a little—I hadn’t said those words in a long time.
More Later, I’ve got to get to the lounge for work.
Jake
I’ve been meaning to contact Ashlyn’s parents. I’ve been Ashlyn for nearly 3 months now, and every week since getting over the initial shock of turning into this curvy red head, I have told myself I need to call them.
It’s just that I don’t know how to have a mom and dad. I’ve been without much family for a long time; my parents died 3 weeks before my seventeenth birthday.
In a previous life, I was an animator. To be honest, I was an animator because I needed an outlet for my overactive imagination and creative energies. Having an overactive imagination is both a blessing and a curse. Sure, it helped me with a job that I enjoyed doing—but that same imagination has caused me to “live” the last moments of my parent’s life—over and over in my head.
We lived in a suburb of Dallas then, and my folks were out on their “date night”. It was usually just dinner and a movie, but it was their time together. I remember them being very affectionate—to the point they were embarrassing to me whenever I had friends over.
It was a freak accident. They were driving home on highway 75. I imagined my dad had the radio on and tuned to the oldies station—he liked to sing along to the music. Sometimes mom sang with him. Dad would steer with one hand and with other, hold my mother’s hand. That night they were driving behind an eighteen-wheeler which was hauling a fork lift on a flat trailer.
The truck driver knew the height of his truck, and when he read the height of the overpass, he knew his truck would have no problem going under the bridge. What he didn’t consider was the height of the fork lift that sat on the trailer of his truck—or that the persons who loaded the fork lift hadn’t bothered to lower the “forks” all the way to the ground.
The forklift hit the overpass and toppled off the trailer—directly in front of my parent’s car.
The police told me it was all over in seconds—that they didn’t suffer. Unfortunately, another quality an animator needs is a real good sense of time. You would be amazed what you can do in three seconds. Watch a basketball game-- a player can receive the ball, dribble once and shoot the ball to win the game in the last three seconds.
The idea that they might have not had the time to react, but to realize what was about to happen, haunts me.
For the year until I turned eighteen, I lived with my Uncle, my father’s older brother. The man was a traveling salesman and I barely saw him the entire time I stayed under his roof. The situation was fine with me as the man was a mean drunk. To his credit, he wasn’t all bad; he did teach me to play poker.
I’m not looking for sympathy; I’m just trying to make you understand. It’s been seventeen years since I’ve had any kind of family situation—and since I have had three months to get used to boobs jiggling on my chest, I was currently more freaked out about being someone’s daughter than being a girl.
I took a deep breath and answered to phone.
“Hi mom.”
“Ashlyn honey! Are you okay? Why haven’t you called?” My “mother” spoke in a thick New England accent.
I made up some lame excuse about being busy with my new waitress job—she seemed to buy it.
“So your Father and I were wondering if we should expect you on Thursday?”
“Thursday?” I asked.
“Yes, Thursday. Thanksgiving. You know, the time of year when I cook enough food to feed a small army? Your father plants himself in front of the TV to watch football?”
I had vague memories of just that kind of thing happening in my childhood. It sounded nice.
“Well?” She asked impatiently, “Do you have other plans?”
I didn’t have other plans. To be honest, the holiday was barely on my radar—I’ve been working every shift I could at the lounge trying to get ahead a little. It’s been my entire focus for the past couple of weeks. I have a trip to Texas to pay for above my usual expenses.
I looked into the mirror and saw my reflection—long red hair, busty and wearing a black teddy. I had to look away; it felt creepy to be dressed like this while talking to this body’s mother.
“Um no, I don’t have other plans…” I said grabbing a silk robe and slipping it on.
“Then it’s settled. We see you Thursday. You and your plus one.” See said.
“Plus one? I don’t plan to bring anyone.” I say slightly confused.
“Honey, you say that every year, and every year you show up with some young man.”
“This year will be different.” I assure her.
“Whatever. See you Thursday. I’m off to the market. Love you sweetheart. Bye!”
“I love you too Mom.” It felt like I should say that back to her, but I choked up a little—I hadn’t said those words in a long time.
More Later, I’ve got to get to the lounge for work.
Jake
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Arthur: I did it, okay?
I imagine that that's what anyone reading this probably wants to know. If there's a pool anywhere speculating on who'd be the first to spread his/her legs, then I suppose whoever had me can collect - although there's about a dozen other people who haven't reported in and might have done the same thing.
I barely slept a wink Thursday night. I got home late, wrote my last entry, watched some TV, then walked into the bedroom where I just sort of stared at Raymond lying there. I really didn't want to get in there next to him. I'm not going to say sharing a bed with him has become no big deal over the past couple months; it still stands my hair on end. But what I had planned for the next day took it from being a big deal to a big deal; I couldn't get into the bed next to him. I went back out into the kitchen, booted the computer back up, pondered erasing what I'd written, instead tried to do some research on the Inn, but even if I couldn't sleep, I couldn't concentrate. I don't know what time I finally did conk out, but I was woken up by Ray locking the door on his way out.
I tried going back to the bedroom and flopping down on the now-empty bed, maybe giving myself the excuse of sleeping through my "lunch date", but apparently I'd gotten all the rest I needed. I started pulling clothes out for the day, thinking that I'd just treat it like a normal day, maybe pop in on Jake, when my hand touched the letters from the real Liz at the bottom of the dresser drawer. I felt a little stab of guilt at that, and then the laptop made its "you have mail" noise. I walked over and saw that it was from Jeremy. Not much news out there, just a couple attachments with notes and a chapter from the ghost-writing job I'd been contracted for. I sighed opening them. His writing, quite frankly, sucks, but at least he's trying. I'm not one to believe in signs, but the timing of that was certainly fortuitous.. If that kid can try to write to keep my life warm for when I get back to it, I supposed I could do something for Liz.
So I went to the bathroom and got into the shower. I did the works - shampoo, conditioner, leg-shaving, perfume, make-up, lipstick. I didn't look as good when I was done as when Jake did them for me, but I looked better than okay. I made sure my bra and panties matched, pulled on some pantyhose, and went for a turtleneck and skirt.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Definitely do-able. I wasn't sure I liked that analysis, but I put on some shoes and went outside anyway.
Stewart and I had agreed to meet up across the river in Boston proper. It keeps us from being seen by co-workers, and the Fenway/BU area is far enough away from downtown to make it unlikely we'll stumble across Raymond or anyone who knows Liz that way. We do actually have lunch at Fresh City, where we gossip about work, compare what we've been buying at the local Tower Records's going out of business sale. It was nice, not nearly as tense as I'd feared, and at some points I actually managed to put what we'd come to do out of my head.
Of course, that couldn't last forever, and we eventually walked back to his place. It's got a very settled-in look to it; while I think Ray and Liz have been where they are for less than a year, it wouldn't surprise me if Stewart had been living there since college. It was a single, at least, so there would be no awkward roommate moments with someone else bursting in.
And... We did it.
It was kind of a surreal experience. I hadn't even played with myself since the change, so it was kind of a shock to find that I still had nerves running directly from my groin to by brain's pleasure center. That wasn't the first experience that made an impression; just getting each other undressed was weird. I have to admit, he's kind of good at it, but in part because he knows Liz's body. He knew where I was ticklish, for instance, which took me completely by surprise. He must have seen that I was tense and maybe just assumed because it had been a while for "us", so he found that spot in the small of my back and while arched my back and laughed involuntarily, he pulled up my turtleneck and started kissing my belly. He laid me down on the bed, then pulled the top all the way off so he could work his way up to my breasts. I was shocked to see my nipples getting stiff, and more than a little alarmed - I wasn't supposed to be enjoying this, and even if it was just a physiological reaction...
I felt like I was supposed to be doing something, but I really didn't know what. I mean, his head was down in my torso; I was kind of pinned. I ran my fingers through his hair, but it wasn't really doing anything for me. Neither was feeling his musclar back or bottom; I settled on reaching behind my back to undo my bra when he lifted me up a little. Then we shifted a bit and I could feel that his penis was hard against my leg. Out of a weird sense of self-preservation I reached for my purse and extracted a condom, which probably sped things up a bit. As soon as he saw me doing that, he dropped his pans and oh my god.
I'd like to be all macho and say mine was bigger, but, honestly, it wasn't. Especially considering that I'd never seen mine from a foot away while trying to put a condom on it. Which I did quickly, like I was trying to hide that thing. Then down came my panties, and in it went.
And, like I said, the groin nerve is connected to the happy part of the brain, but... It felt good, but not quite good-sex-good. I liked the sensation, but something was missing, even beyond the obvious. The force of someone thrusting must take some getting used to. I could tell when he came, but I didn't (I'm pretty sure on this - my girlfriends always seemed to know).
Afterward, he made a comment on that, said he was sorry. I made a quip about being out of practice, not immediately realizing that was the perfect set-up for him to request a return engagement. Which he of course did, and I agreed to, even though we both realized our schedules wouldn't overlap again until after Thanksgiving. I felt a little weird saying yes, but if I was going to keep this going for Liz, it was never going to be a one and out thing.
Then I got dressed, and we went our seperate ways until meeting up again at work, where we acted like there was nothing going on. Kind of weird, that. Not quite as weird as spending the weekend with Raymond afterward. I kept expecting myself to feel guilty, but he wasn't my boyfriend, so I wasn't really cheating on him. I guess I'm helping Liz do so, but the way I'm doing it is just to abstract and weird to really make me feel bad on a gut level.
Maybe that'll come if I start really getting into the sex - I mean, you don't feel guilty about just having a little fun with someone else, right?
-Art
I barely slept a wink Thursday night. I got home late, wrote my last entry, watched some TV, then walked into the bedroom where I just sort of stared at Raymond lying there. I really didn't want to get in there next to him. I'm not going to say sharing a bed with him has become no big deal over the past couple months; it still stands my hair on end. But what I had planned for the next day took it from being a big deal to a big deal; I couldn't get into the bed next to him. I went back out into the kitchen, booted the computer back up, pondered erasing what I'd written, instead tried to do some research on the Inn, but even if I couldn't sleep, I couldn't concentrate. I don't know what time I finally did conk out, but I was woken up by Ray locking the door on his way out.
I tried going back to the bedroom and flopping down on the now-empty bed, maybe giving myself the excuse of sleeping through my "lunch date", but apparently I'd gotten all the rest I needed. I started pulling clothes out for the day, thinking that I'd just treat it like a normal day, maybe pop in on Jake, when my hand touched the letters from the real Liz at the bottom of the dresser drawer. I felt a little stab of guilt at that, and then the laptop made its "you have mail" noise. I walked over and saw that it was from Jeremy. Not much news out there, just a couple attachments with notes and a chapter from the ghost-writing job I'd been contracted for. I sighed opening them. His writing, quite frankly, sucks, but at least he's trying. I'm not one to believe in signs, but the timing of that was certainly fortuitous.. If that kid can try to write to keep my life warm for when I get back to it, I supposed I could do something for Liz.
So I went to the bathroom and got into the shower. I did the works - shampoo, conditioner, leg-shaving, perfume, make-up, lipstick. I didn't look as good when I was done as when Jake did them for me, but I looked better than okay. I made sure my bra and panties matched, pulled on some pantyhose, and went for a turtleneck and skirt.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Definitely do-able. I wasn't sure I liked that analysis, but I put on some shoes and went outside anyway.
Stewart and I had agreed to meet up across the river in Boston proper. It keeps us from being seen by co-workers, and the Fenway/BU area is far enough away from downtown to make it unlikely we'll stumble across Raymond or anyone who knows Liz that way. We do actually have lunch at Fresh City, where we gossip about work, compare what we've been buying at the local Tower Records's going out of business sale. It was nice, not nearly as tense as I'd feared, and at some points I actually managed to put what we'd come to do out of my head.
Of course, that couldn't last forever, and we eventually walked back to his place. It's got a very settled-in look to it; while I think Ray and Liz have been where they are for less than a year, it wouldn't surprise me if Stewart had been living there since college. It was a single, at least, so there would be no awkward roommate moments with someone else bursting in.
And... We did it.
It was kind of a surreal experience. I hadn't even played with myself since the change, so it was kind of a shock to find that I still had nerves running directly from my groin to by brain's pleasure center. That wasn't the first experience that made an impression; just getting each other undressed was weird. I have to admit, he's kind of good at it, but in part because he knows Liz's body. He knew where I was ticklish, for instance, which took me completely by surprise. He must have seen that I was tense and maybe just assumed because it had been a while for "us", so he found that spot in the small of my back and while arched my back and laughed involuntarily, he pulled up my turtleneck and started kissing my belly. He laid me down on the bed, then pulled the top all the way off so he could work his way up to my breasts. I was shocked to see my nipples getting stiff, and more than a little alarmed - I wasn't supposed to be enjoying this, and even if it was just a physiological reaction...
I felt like I was supposed to be doing something, but I really didn't know what. I mean, his head was down in my torso; I was kind of pinned. I ran my fingers through his hair, but it wasn't really doing anything for me. Neither was feeling his musclar back or bottom; I settled on reaching behind my back to undo my bra when he lifted me up a little. Then we shifted a bit and I could feel that his penis was hard against my leg. Out of a weird sense of self-preservation I reached for my purse and extracted a condom, which probably sped things up a bit. As soon as he saw me doing that, he dropped his pans and oh my god.
I'd like to be all macho and say mine was bigger, but, honestly, it wasn't. Especially considering that I'd never seen mine from a foot away while trying to put a condom on it. Which I did quickly, like I was trying to hide that thing. Then down came my panties, and in it went.
And, like I said, the groin nerve is connected to the happy part of the brain, but... It felt good, but not quite good-sex-good. I liked the sensation, but something was missing, even beyond the obvious. The force of someone thrusting must take some getting used to. I could tell when he came, but I didn't (I'm pretty sure on this - my girlfriends always seemed to know).
Afterward, he made a comment on that, said he was sorry. I made a quip about being out of practice, not immediately realizing that was the perfect set-up for him to request a return engagement. Which he of course did, and I agreed to, even though we both realized our schedules wouldn't overlap again until after Thanksgiving. I felt a little weird saying yes, but if I was going to keep this going for Liz, it was never going to be a one and out thing.
Then I got dressed, and we went our seperate ways until meeting up again at work, where we acted like there was nothing going on. Kind of weird, that. Not quite as weird as spending the weekend with Raymond afterward. I kept expecting myself to feel guilty, but he wasn't my boyfriend, so I wasn't really cheating on him. I guess I'm helping Liz do so, but the way I'm doing it is just to abstract and weird to really make me feel bad on a gut level.
Maybe that'll come if I start really getting into the sex - I mean, you don't feel guilty about just having a little fun with someone else, right?
-Art
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Jake/Ashlyn--Can I have my life back, pretty please?
I’ve decided to go to Texas and talk to Stephen, the new me, in person. It’s a bit of a waste of money because we could have the conversation on the phone—but I just want to look him in the eye when I ask for my old life back. Art and I have discussed his theory at length now, and he has convinced me. As soon as the Inn is open again, we can start the process of getting our lives back.
My biggest hurdle is the question of whether or not the new Jake will relinquish my life back to me. I’ve mentioned in previous posts that things were going really well for him—that’s really an understatement. Things have gone phenomenal for him; it’s like everything he touches turns to gold. It kind of drove me nuts that someone could walk into my life and do so much better. I’ve discovered through many sleepless nights of obsessed web searching that one of his secrets of success is a business partner--a silent business partner who has invested large sums of cash into the new business. I’ve searched and searched for info on this silent partner, but the best I could come up with were the initials “S.A.”.
It’s been interesting to me how differently Art and I are handling the possibility of returning to our old lives. When I was convinced I was going to spend the rest of my life as Ashlyn, I was really pushing Art and myself to adapt and get on with our lives. I was even looking into classes next semester at Northeastern University and I started taking Ashlyn’s birth control pills. I don’t have any current plans to sleep with a guy, but the curious part of my brain was telling me it might happen some day. So I decided to be prepared. I guess my point is that I was starting to make long range plans as Ashlyn.
Now I’m all confused on what I should be doing. If the original Ashlyn is going to be back in this life in six months, should I sign up for classes she wouldn’t be interested in taking? I’ve promised Josh a second date—and I’ve managed to put him off so far—but the original Ashlyn broke up with this guy, aren’t I doing both of them a disservice by going out on dates with her ex?
Most fascinating is the change in attitude in Art. Now that he doesn’t consider living Liz’s life a lifetime prison sentence, he’s been a lot more comfortable in her skin. Now it’s a big adventure to him and the investigative reporter side of his brain has kicked in. He keeps telling me this going to make a great book someday—I keep telling him he might as well call it fiction because no one will believe it.
Jake
My biggest hurdle is the question of whether or not the new Jake will relinquish my life back to me. I’ve mentioned in previous posts that things were going really well for him—that’s really an understatement. Things have gone phenomenal for him; it’s like everything he touches turns to gold. It kind of drove me nuts that someone could walk into my life and do so much better. I’ve discovered through many sleepless nights of obsessed web searching that one of his secrets of success is a business partner--a silent business partner who has invested large sums of cash into the new business. I’ve searched and searched for info on this silent partner, but the best I could come up with were the initials “S.A.”.
It’s been interesting to me how differently Art and I are handling the possibility of returning to our old lives. When I was convinced I was going to spend the rest of my life as Ashlyn, I was really pushing Art and myself to adapt and get on with our lives. I was even looking into classes next semester at Northeastern University and I started taking Ashlyn’s birth control pills. I don’t have any current plans to sleep with a guy, but the curious part of my brain was telling me it might happen some day. So I decided to be prepared. I guess my point is that I was starting to make long range plans as Ashlyn.
Now I’m all confused on what I should be doing. If the original Ashlyn is going to be back in this life in six months, should I sign up for classes she wouldn’t be interested in taking? I’ve promised Josh a second date—and I’ve managed to put him off so far—but the original Ashlyn broke up with this guy, aren’t I doing both of them a disservice by going out on dates with her ex?
Most fascinating is the change in attitude in Art. Now that he doesn’t consider living Liz’s life a lifetime prison sentence, he’s been a lot more comfortable in her skin. Now it’s a big adventure to him and the investigative reporter side of his brain has kicked in. He keeps telling me this going to make a great book someday—I keep telling him he might as well call it fiction because no one will believe it.
Jake
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Arthur: Looking good doesn't go unnoticed
I only saw Zoe at the movie theater Friday night, but since she can't run the projectors, there obviously had to be another manager there. Lucky me - it was Stewart.
I haven't seen a whole lot of him since he felt me up - he tends to work days, I tend to work nights. It's one part the perk of being head manager and one part the whole thing about not wanting us small (apparently) female types having to wrestle with platters of film. As I've said before, fine with me. Still, tonight we were both assigned the same shift, and though it was relatively uneventful most of the night, there did come a point where I was up in the booth with him.
"So," he says, "I saw you and Ray Friday night. You looked nice."
I told him it was nice of him to say.
"But it looks like it was for nothing - he was out cold by the time the movie ended. That's got to be rough."
Hey, well, it happens.
"It shouldn't happen to a girl like you. You should have everything you want, whenever you want." He smiles in a way that probably charms a lot of girls, and I notice. In, a non-attracted way, of course - like when you notice a guy in a bar or at a party is really working it well.
"What makes you think I don't?"
"I think I know you better than that. Now, you felt like some down-time, that's cool, but I saw that dress you were wearing. It was a signal. A classy, subtle one, but it said you wanted something more than just falling asleep in front of a movie."
Or, I thought, that my best friend picked my clothes. I was going to say something sarcastic when he walked up, lifted my chin with a finger, and rested his other hand on my bottom. Now, I don't want anyone getting into the idea of "the lady doth protest to much" here, because attracted isn't what I was feeling. But I was curious, and I could imagine what this kind of attention meant to Liz. So, I kind looked into his eyes and gave a little half-smile and said that falling asleep in front of a movie wasn't all bad.
"Ah," he says, "but that means it's not all good, either." A buzzer leads him over to where one of the movies is ending, but he turns around and tells me that we could continue this conversation later - say, at lunch tomorrow? It's been a while since we had lunch.
Now, I know what "lunch" is probably code for. And last month I would have vowed to never eat again. But now... Well, this situation is temporary. And Liz wants to come back to this guy. And it would certainly be a learning experience.
... and if I wake up sane tomorrow morning, I can forget that I said it sounded like fun.
-Art
I haven't seen a whole lot of him since he felt me up - he tends to work days, I tend to work nights. It's one part the perk of being head manager and one part the whole thing about not wanting us small (apparently) female types having to wrestle with platters of film. As I've said before, fine with me. Still, tonight we were both assigned the same shift, and though it was relatively uneventful most of the night, there did come a point where I was up in the booth with him.
"So," he says, "I saw you and Ray Friday night. You looked nice."
I told him it was nice of him to say.
"But it looks like it was for nothing - he was out cold by the time the movie ended. That's got to be rough."
Hey, well, it happens.
"It shouldn't happen to a girl like you. You should have everything you want, whenever you want." He smiles in a way that probably charms a lot of girls, and I notice. In, a non-attracted way, of course - like when you notice a guy in a bar or at a party is really working it well.
"What makes you think I don't?"
"I think I know you better than that. Now, you felt like some down-time, that's cool, but I saw that dress you were wearing. It was a signal. A classy, subtle one, but it said you wanted something more than just falling asleep in front of a movie."
Or, I thought, that my best friend picked my clothes. I was going to say something sarcastic when he walked up, lifted my chin with a finger, and rested his other hand on my bottom. Now, I don't want anyone getting into the idea of "the lady doth protest to much" here, because attracted isn't what I was feeling. But I was curious, and I could imagine what this kind of attention meant to Liz. So, I kind looked into his eyes and gave a little half-smile and said that falling asleep in front of a movie wasn't all bad.
"Ah," he says, "but that means it's not all good, either." A buzzer leads him over to where one of the movies is ending, but he turns around and tells me that we could continue this conversation later - say, at lunch tomorrow? It's been a while since we had lunch.
Now, I know what "lunch" is probably code for. And last month I would have vowed to never eat again. But now... Well, this situation is temporary. And Liz wants to come back to this guy. And it would certainly be a learning experience.
... and if I wake up sane tomorrow morning, I can forget that I said it sounded like fun.
-Art
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Arthur: The upside of someone adapting better than you
I wouldn't say Jake is totally okay with being a girl, or anything close to it, but he's a whole lot better at the outward activities than I am. I really should learn, but ever since finding out some of what was going with the inn, I've been spending every moment I can trying to find out more. Knowledge is like an addiction; you get a small taste and you have to have more.
"More" hasn't been forthcoming, but it takes just as much time to find nothing as it does to find something - more, actually, because you know when you've found something, but when you find nothing, you've got a lot more nothing to find. I let myself get obsessed, and come Friday morning I knew a whole lot about things that had gone on in Old Orchard Beach between five and ten years ago that could be found on the internet. What I did not know was any of the things that would help me not look like a fool or an embarassment at Ray's company party.
I suppose I could have just blown it off - blow Liz's whole life off, maybe find some little one-bedroom apartment to hunker down in for six months, and let her explain after we switch back. But Ray's a nice guy, and I figure that if I want Jeremy to leave my life something like I found it, I should do the same.
So, I called Jake to come over and help me out. It's probably not nearly as good as having a real girl do my make-up, but who else would do it? I listen as he describes what he's doing, maybe a little more attentively than I would have a week earlier. It's a bit paradoxical that I'm more open to learning this girl stuff now that I know there's a way out of it; I guess it just doesn't feel like giving up. It's merely temporary camouflage.
The doesn't make it comfortable. I can get away with relatively casual/androgynous clothing most days, so I was pretty well unprepared for the stuff Jake pulled out of Liz's closet after giving it a good looking over: A little black dress! Thong panties! An underwire bra! Pantyhose! Shoes with a two-inch heel about as thick as my little finger! I kind of spazzed a little at seeing the small but comprehensive pile, but managed to get it all on with some help. Nothing I couldn't reach, but it's good to have someone in the room maknig you do the thing that you don't want to do. Otherwise, I might have put it off and then decided that whatever I was wearing was good enough.
It was still a shock to see myself in the mirror. I'm long past averting my eyes in the bathroom in the morning, and I know I look good, but, still, this was going from girl-next-door cute to something else again. My skin caught the light a certain way, the strapless dress showed off the great shoulders I'd inherited (and somehow seemed to make it look like I had an actual rack and butt), the shoes (and short dress!) showed off my legs, and the necklace Jake found in the jewelry box looked pretty nice, too. I fumbled with the earrings, but I was impressed with what he'd made of me.
So, evidently, was he. "I knew you had it in you. Now don't you wish you'd gone for something sexy for Halloween?"
"Maybe. No, not really. I mean, this isn't serving me up like a piece of meat."
"True, but being a piece of meat's not always so bad. Folks buy you drinks."
I grunted disagreement while getting the tiny watch onto my wrist and loading a purse with the stuff I'd normally keep in pockets.
Eventually, he figured out that I wasn't totally thrilled with the subject and left for his own job before Ray was scheduled to be home. As it turns out, he was late, and slowed down a little more when he got into the apartment and saw me waiting. "Wow, it's been too long since we dressed up." I gave him a little smile that I think Liz might have given him in the same circumstances. He, of course, was already wearing a suit and just had to collect the retirement gift and break out the electric razor before we headed down to the garage.
Once we were in the car, he gave me a peck on the cheek and thanked me for coming. "I know it's kind of a rough night, being there just to make it look like I've got a life outside the office, listening to boring conversation from people you don't know. If it's any consolation, I think everybody's clear on us being Korean-America rather than Japanese or Chinese."
I imagine that could be annoying.
It was, in fact, pretty dire. Most of the partners and associates seemed to be at least ten years older than Ray & Liz, and they'd tell stories full of legal jargon. I wound up spending a bit of time with a couple of the other new associates' girlfriends, including one who was all squealy showing us her engagement ring. I gather Liz has met them before, at other office functions, but I didn't know them. I don't think Liz really fits into that crowd - most of them are either in some extremely busy occupation - other lawyers, doctors, the like - or are at least professional types. Working at a movie theater seems kind of low-rent in comparison. Of course, then there are the ones like ring-girl, who had rich parents and said getting a ring on her finger had been her job. I gave silent thanks that I hadn't landed in that sort of life.
I got a little uncomfortable when the boyfriend of one of the female junior associates mad ethe sort of joking comment about how much time we have without our significant others around and how our attention can wander that is just crying to be taken seriously. It had me kind of wondering if he'd heard something about Liz. Maybe Stewart wasn't the only thing she'd had on the side, but just the one where I'd found out. I put it out of my mind - that way lies madness.
Still, I did recognize that I looked good tonight and Ray might be feeling a little romantic later on. I did what I remembered girls doing to me in that situation - I nursed my drinks but quietly made sure he was well ahead of me. This could have backfired big time if Ray were less of a gentleman, but he didn't get all hands-y, just sort of sluggish.
After the party, I suggested we should go to a movie while we were out and picked the one that ran the longest (The Prestige, two hours and fifteen minutes) and started latest (ten-thirty p.m. on Friday night). My plan worked; he fell asleep in the theater, and I had to have Zoe help me get him to the car.
Kind of cold-blooded of me, I guess, but it worked. He woke up hung over Saturday morning, we had a good time hanging out and playing some pool during the afternoon before I had to go to work, and watched TV after I got back from work Sunday afternoon.
Liz might have been dissatisfied that their relationship had sort of devolved to being roommates who share a bed, but aside from that, he's one of the best roommates I've ever had.
-Art
"More" hasn't been forthcoming, but it takes just as much time to find nothing as it does to find something - more, actually, because you know when you've found something, but when you find nothing, you've got a lot more nothing to find. I let myself get obsessed, and come Friday morning I knew a whole lot about things that had gone on in Old Orchard Beach between five and ten years ago that could be found on the internet. What I did not know was any of the things that would help me not look like a fool or an embarassment at Ray's company party.
I suppose I could have just blown it off - blow Liz's whole life off, maybe find some little one-bedroom apartment to hunker down in for six months, and let her explain after we switch back. But Ray's a nice guy, and I figure that if I want Jeremy to leave my life something like I found it, I should do the same.
So, I called Jake to come over and help me out. It's probably not nearly as good as having a real girl do my make-up, but who else would do it? I listen as he describes what he's doing, maybe a little more attentively than I would have a week earlier. It's a bit paradoxical that I'm more open to learning this girl stuff now that I know there's a way out of it; I guess it just doesn't feel like giving up. It's merely temporary camouflage.
The doesn't make it comfortable. I can get away with relatively casual/androgynous clothing most days, so I was pretty well unprepared for the stuff Jake pulled out of Liz's closet after giving it a good looking over: A little black dress! Thong panties! An underwire bra! Pantyhose! Shoes with a two-inch heel about as thick as my little finger! I kind of spazzed a little at seeing the small but comprehensive pile, but managed to get it all on with some help. Nothing I couldn't reach, but it's good to have someone in the room maknig you do the thing that you don't want to do. Otherwise, I might have put it off and then decided that whatever I was wearing was good enough.
It was still a shock to see myself in the mirror. I'm long past averting my eyes in the bathroom in the morning, and I know I look good, but, still, this was going from girl-next-door cute to something else again. My skin caught the light a certain way, the strapless dress showed off the great shoulders I'd inherited (and somehow seemed to make it look like I had an actual rack and butt), the shoes (and short dress!) showed off my legs, and the necklace Jake found in the jewelry box looked pretty nice, too. I fumbled with the earrings, but I was impressed with what he'd made of me.
So, evidently, was he. "I knew you had it in you. Now don't you wish you'd gone for something sexy for Halloween?"
"Maybe. No, not really. I mean, this isn't serving me up like a piece of meat."
"True, but being a piece of meat's not always so bad. Folks buy you drinks."
I grunted disagreement while getting the tiny watch onto my wrist and loading a purse with the stuff I'd normally keep in pockets.
Eventually, he figured out that I wasn't totally thrilled with the subject and left for his own job before Ray was scheduled to be home. As it turns out, he was late, and slowed down a little more when he got into the apartment and saw me waiting. "Wow, it's been too long since we dressed up." I gave him a little smile that I think Liz might have given him in the same circumstances. He, of course, was already wearing a suit and just had to collect the retirement gift and break out the electric razor before we headed down to the garage.
Once we were in the car, he gave me a peck on the cheek and thanked me for coming. "I know it's kind of a rough night, being there just to make it look like I've got a life outside the office, listening to boring conversation from people you don't know. If it's any consolation, I think everybody's clear on us being Korean-America rather than Japanese or Chinese."
I imagine that could be annoying.
It was, in fact, pretty dire. Most of the partners and associates seemed to be at least ten years older than Ray & Liz, and they'd tell stories full of legal jargon. I wound up spending a bit of time with a couple of the other new associates' girlfriends, including one who was all squealy showing us her engagement ring. I gather Liz has met them before, at other office functions, but I didn't know them. I don't think Liz really fits into that crowd - most of them are either in some extremely busy occupation - other lawyers, doctors, the like - or are at least professional types. Working at a movie theater seems kind of low-rent in comparison. Of course, then there are the ones like ring-girl, who had rich parents and said getting a ring on her finger had been her job. I gave silent thanks that I hadn't landed in that sort of life.
I got a little uncomfortable when the boyfriend of one of the female junior associates mad ethe sort of joking comment about how much time we have without our significant others around and how our attention can wander that is just crying to be taken seriously. It had me kind of wondering if he'd heard something about Liz. Maybe Stewart wasn't the only thing she'd had on the side, but just the one where I'd found out. I put it out of my mind - that way lies madness.
Still, I did recognize that I looked good tonight and Ray might be feeling a little romantic later on. I did what I remembered girls doing to me in that situation - I nursed my drinks but quietly made sure he was well ahead of me. This could have backfired big time if Ray were less of a gentleman, but he didn't get all hands-y, just sort of sluggish.
After the party, I suggested we should go to a movie while we were out and picked the one that ran the longest (The Prestige, two hours and fifteen minutes) and started latest (ten-thirty p.m. on Friday night). My plan worked; he fell asleep in the theater, and I had to have Zoe help me get him to the car.
Kind of cold-blooded of me, I guess, but it worked. He woke up hung over Saturday morning, we had a good time hanging out and playing some pool during the afternoon before I had to go to work, and watched TV after I got back from work Sunday afternoon.
Liz might have been dissatisfied that their relationship had sort of devolved to being roommates who share a bed, but aside from that, he's one of the best roommates I've ever had.
-Art
Monday, November 06, 2006
Jake/Ashlyn--I'm kind of numb
Short entry tonight.
I did a little more online snooping on Steven, the new Jake tonight. Things are going remarkably well for him. I'm not ready to contact him. We still have things to figure out about getting our old lives back--But I'm concerned that he won't give up my life even if we figure it out.
I may have fun playing dress up and getting all the attention as Ashlyn, but the reality is I still want my old life back.
Worse, when Ashlyn wants her life back, and I can't get my own back--what's to become of me?
Jake
I did a little more online snooping on Steven, the new Jake tonight. Things are going remarkably well for him. I'm not ready to contact him. We still have things to figure out about getting our old lives back--But I'm concerned that he won't give up my life even if we figure it out.
I may have fun playing dress up and getting all the attention as Ashlyn, but the reality is I still want my old life back.
Worse, when Ashlyn wants her life back, and I can't get my own back--what's to become of me?
Jake
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Arthur: Even if you guys aren't writing, you've got to be reading, so listen up...
We may be able to get out of this, with a little patience and planning.
I drove up to Old Orchard again on Friday, looking to do a little more research even though we didn't find out a whole heck of a lot last time. Those discouraging results were part of the reason it took me a month and a half to get back up there, along with trying to work out a time when Jake could come too and Ray wouldn't need the car, especially since the train doesn't run up there during the off-season. After having some caveman paw at me on Halloween, though, I got jarred from my complacency, and decided to just do it myself, because sitting at "home" isn't making me a man again.
I spent some time in the library again, going through weekly newspapers to see if I could find anything strange about the inn that made it into print. There seemed to be a slightly higher than average incidence of police calls coming from there during the summer months, although I wasn't really totaling up the number of times the cops had to come to other hotels to deal with disturbances.
In some ways, I think we got off lucky. In May 2004, someone staying there was arrested for credit card fraud, and spent a night in jail. He'd been missing for months, so the cards had been canceled, but the story had a happy ending when he was "reunited" with his family. And then there was July of 2003...
Someone had hanged himself. Just... couldn't handle the change, I guess, although it didn't show up that way in the story. Maybe the other people staying at the inn had told the cops and the reporters the truth, but nobody ever believes us, so they probably just wrote off any descriptions of the guy "not being himself" as metaphorical.
I'd made it back to 2001 without thinking I'd found something useful before the pattern started to emerge. Nothing unusual happened from October to April. Someone reported missing for months before he used his credit card in May. I'd noticed that the whole town was shut down tight, but I hadn't made the connection. As soon as I did, though, I just left all the papers I'd been scanning on the table and went for the car, driving to the edge of town where the Inn was. I half expected to find it gone, having just disappeared into the evening fog one night, to re-emerge when the season started, but the world wasn't that crazy. It was there, shuttered up, padlocked, just like any other beachfront property.
One good thing about being a freelance writer is that you learn all sorts of little things researching different projects. I drove back to town, found a drugstore that was open, and bought myself some hairpins - thinking to myself that "Liz" probably looked far less suspicious doing so than Art would. Then I drove back, walked around to the rear of the building, making sure that the area behind me was deserted, and started working on the lock.
I was out of practice and had never tried to pick a lock with these fingers, so it took me agonizing minutes where I was afraid I'd get caught. But I got in.
It was chilly - the heat was turned on just enough to keep the pipes from freezing - and I didn't dare turn on the lights even with the shutters closed. Getting arrested would be hard to explain. Fortunately, there was a flashlight in the car. It was almost funny - sneaking around a sort of haunted house so close after Halloween - but also informative.
It was almost three by then, and if I was going to allow myself time to get to work without dealing with traffic, I would have to hurry, so I just broke into one room - my old one. The bed frame was empty; presumably the mattress had been placed in storage for the winter. The phone had no dial tone. But when I opened the closet...
Bingo! The luggage and personal effects of Jeremy Boyd! I used the connecting bathroom to get to the other room, and that closet yielded Stephen Jeffries's stuff. I called Jake right then, but he wasn't picking up; maybe he had another lunch shift or something. I was really pushing time by then, so I locked everything back up and headed to the car.
There was only one other stop I considered making on the way back to Cambridge, but the hotel where we'd picked up our keys way back in August was locked up too.
As soon as I got home I called the service that I'd used to book the room at the inn, and got a pleasant message saying that the Oceanside Property Management staff was taking a well-deserved vacation, but that they would be open to take reservations again after the first of the year. Which is fine; it gives me a little time to get things pulled together. First, I need to get hold of Jeremy, make sure that he, as Art, books his old room for the first window next May. That gets him his old body back and puts my form back in limbo; then when I show up for the second period, I'm me again, I got back home, and put this nightmare behind me.
Of course, before we do that, I should find out the exact nature of this curse - it would suck if trying to outsmart it like that released some sort of evil demon or something. But we've got a minimum of two months to do that, and probably right up until the place opens back up again.
Man! I wish I had more people's numbers and such - it would be a horrible bit of irony if we figured out how to get back to our old lives and people stayed stuck because they weren't keeping in touch.
-Art
I drove up to Old Orchard again on Friday, looking to do a little more research even though we didn't find out a whole heck of a lot last time. Those discouraging results were part of the reason it took me a month and a half to get back up there, along with trying to work out a time when Jake could come too and Ray wouldn't need the car, especially since the train doesn't run up there during the off-season. After having some caveman paw at me on Halloween, though, I got jarred from my complacency, and decided to just do it myself, because sitting at "home" isn't making me a man again.
I spent some time in the library again, going through weekly newspapers to see if I could find anything strange about the inn that made it into print. There seemed to be a slightly higher than average incidence of police calls coming from there during the summer months, although I wasn't really totaling up the number of times the cops had to come to other hotels to deal with disturbances.
In some ways, I think we got off lucky. In May 2004, someone staying there was arrested for credit card fraud, and spent a night in jail. He'd been missing for months, so the cards had been canceled, but the story had a happy ending when he was "reunited" with his family. And then there was July of 2003...
Someone had hanged himself. Just... couldn't handle the change, I guess, although it didn't show up that way in the story. Maybe the other people staying at the inn had told the cops and the reporters the truth, but nobody ever believes us, so they probably just wrote off any descriptions of the guy "not being himself" as metaphorical.
I'd made it back to 2001 without thinking I'd found something useful before the pattern started to emerge. Nothing unusual happened from October to April. Someone reported missing for months before he used his credit card in May. I'd noticed that the whole town was shut down tight, but I hadn't made the connection. As soon as I did, though, I just left all the papers I'd been scanning on the table and went for the car, driving to the edge of town where the Inn was. I half expected to find it gone, having just disappeared into the evening fog one night, to re-emerge when the season started, but the world wasn't that crazy. It was there, shuttered up, padlocked, just like any other beachfront property.
One good thing about being a freelance writer is that you learn all sorts of little things researching different projects. I drove back to town, found a drugstore that was open, and bought myself some hairpins - thinking to myself that "Liz" probably looked far less suspicious doing so than Art would. Then I drove back, walked around to the rear of the building, making sure that the area behind me was deserted, and started working on the lock.
I was out of practice and had never tried to pick a lock with these fingers, so it took me agonizing minutes where I was afraid I'd get caught. But I got in.
It was chilly - the heat was turned on just enough to keep the pipes from freezing - and I didn't dare turn on the lights even with the shutters closed. Getting arrested would be hard to explain. Fortunately, there was a flashlight in the car. It was almost funny - sneaking around a sort of haunted house so close after Halloween - but also informative.
It was almost three by then, and if I was going to allow myself time to get to work without dealing with traffic, I would have to hurry, so I just broke into one room - my old one. The bed frame was empty; presumably the mattress had been placed in storage for the winter. The phone had no dial tone. But when I opened the closet...
Bingo! The luggage and personal effects of Jeremy Boyd! I used the connecting bathroom to get to the other room, and that closet yielded Stephen Jeffries's stuff. I called Jake right then, but he wasn't picking up; maybe he had another lunch shift or something. I was really pushing time by then, so I locked everything back up and headed to the car.
There was only one other stop I considered making on the way back to Cambridge, but the hotel where we'd picked up our keys way back in August was locked up too.
As soon as I got home I called the service that I'd used to book the room at the inn, and got a pleasant message saying that the Oceanside Property Management staff was taking a well-deserved vacation, but that they would be open to take reservations again after the first of the year. Which is fine; it gives me a little time to get things pulled together. First, I need to get hold of Jeremy, make sure that he, as Art, books his old room for the first window next May. That gets him his old body back and puts my form back in limbo; then when I show up for the second period, I'm me again, I got back home, and put this nightmare behind me.
Of course, before we do that, I should find out the exact nature of this curse - it would suck if trying to outsmart it like that released some sort of evil demon or something. But we've got a minimum of two months to do that, and probably right up until the place opens back up again.
Man! I wish I had more people's numbers and such - it would be a horrible bit of irony if we figured out how to get back to our old lives and people stayed stuck because they weren't keeping in touch.
-Art
Friday, November 03, 2006
Jake/Ashlyn--Halloween part 2
So the party was picking up steam.
I tried to hang with Art, but between Josh, Josh’s friends and the girls from the radio station, my attention was divided. I lost Art for a little while, and when I found her she was getting a lot of unwanted attention from a guy dressed as Fred Flintstone.
I watched the exchange from a distance—it was amusing. Art would take a step back trying to get away, and Fred would take a step forward and close the gap. I walked over to help rescue a friend.
“Hi Liz! Who’s your friend?”
Art shot me a look. “Would you believe his actual name is Fred?”
I stuck out my hand, and out of reflex Fred did the same. I shook Fred’s hand.
“Nice to meet you Fred. I’m sorry, but I have to steal Liz from you. I need to go to the powder room and I can’t go alone. It’s a girl thing.”
I grab Art by the arm, and lead her away.
“I could have handled that.” Art says, “But thanks away.”
“Your welcome. Having a good time?” I asked.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. That was the third guy who has hit on me. I wasn’t expecting to receive so much attention. It isn’t like I dressed up like…” She made a waving motion toward my costume.
“Like a slut?” I asked slightly defensive.
“Sexy. I didn’t dress up sexy.” She added.
“Like it or not, you are an attractive woman. You’re going to get noticed.” In the distance I see Ray walking up. He’s was obviously looking for Art. “Looks like the boyfriend has finally arrived.”
Art turns, and waves Ray over.
Ray walked over to us. He wrapped an arm Art and kissed her on top of the head.
“Aw, you guys make such a cute looking couple.” I say to them, giving Art a smirk.
“That’s an amazing costume Ash.” Ray says to me. “You couldn’t get Liz to wear something like that? I count on you to be a bad influence.”
“Hey!” Art exclaims. “I’m standing right here.”
We make small talk and eventually Josh shows up, and drags me to the dance floor. It didn’t take much arm twisting—as Ashlyn, I love to dance.
An hour or so later, I see Art waving me down.
“I’ve had enough.” She tells me. “I’m going to tell Ray I’m not feeling well, and I’m ready to leave.”
“Wow, it’s still early. You sure you don’t want to stick around?” I say to her.
“I am so done.”
Art and Ray take off and the rest of the night almost went without incident.
Almost.
After dancing with Josh for a while, he ran off to the rest room, leaving me alone for a few minutes. A very drunk Susan (blonde in a school girl outfit) staggered up beside me.
“I really don’t know what he sees in you.” She slurs. “You’re nothing but a big breasted gold digging whore.”
“Excuse me?” I was honestly surprised. I wasn’t expecting a personal attack from another woman. I mean, women are sugar and spice, right?
“I said you are nothing but a big breasted gold digging whore—who doesn’t deserve a guy like Josh. Bitch.”
I was unprepared for this, but decided to take the high road. “Look Susan, you’re drunk—“
“How dare you judge me!” She cut me off, swung her arm, and slapped me.
Without even thinking about it, I slapped her back. I realized it was a mistake the moment I did it. I just wanted to get away from this crazy chick—Susan was looking for a fight.
I’m an easy going guy—girl now. It might have been 15 years since I have been in any kind of physical fight. But kind of like I couldn’t go two months as Ashlyn without getting sick, I couldn’t go two months without getting in a cat fight.
Susan jumps me, and to the amusement of the party crowd, a catholic school girl and a sexy pirate wench were rolling around on the floor--hitting, scratching, and pulling hair.
The really sad part is that Susan was kicking my ass. I was getting beat up by a girl. I’ve decided it was because Susan knew how to fight as a girl—I didn’t have a clue.
Security dragged us apart. Josh showed up just in time to see the very end. Fortunately, the police don’t seem to get called in for cat fights.
Josh drove me home—not that we had much choice, security demanded we leave. He asked me if I wanted to go somewhere else, but my costume was torn and I was dying of embarrassment—I just wanted the night to be over.
When we get to my place, Josh parks the car and I apologize for ruining the party and our date.
“Then make it up to me—let’s go out again.” He says.
“Deal.” I go to open the door and get out, but Josh gently places his hand on my arm, stopping me. He leans in and kisses me. I knew when I said I would go out with him to the party that the night might end with a kiss—so I was slightly prepared and tried not freeze up. I also knew that a kiss was my limit and he had no chance of coming inside.
The kiss was nice, but it still feels weird to kiss a guy. I give it a mixed review.
He jumps out of the car, opens my door for me and walks me to my door.
My night was finally over. I walk into my bedroom and look at myself in my big mirror.
I was a mess. “Happy two month anniversary Ashlyn.” I get out of the costume and into bed.
Jake
I tried to hang with Art, but between Josh, Josh’s friends and the girls from the radio station, my attention was divided. I lost Art for a little while, and when I found her she was getting a lot of unwanted attention from a guy dressed as Fred Flintstone.
I watched the exchange from a distance—it was amusing. Art would take a step back trying to get away, and Fred would take a step forward and close the gap. I walked over to help rescue a friend.
“Hi Liz! Who’s your friend?”
Art shot me a look. “Would you believe his actual name is Fred?”
I stuck out my hand, and out of reflex Fred did the same. I shook Fred’s hand.
“Nice to meet you Fred. I’m sorry, but I have to steal Liz from you. I need to go to the powder room and I can’t go alone. It’s a girl thing.”
I grab Art by the arm, and lead her away.
“I could have handled that.” Art says, “But thanks away.”
“Your welcome. Having a good time?” I asked.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. That was the third guy who has hit on me. I wasn’t expecting to receive so much attention. It isn’t like I dressed up like…” She made a waving motion toward my costume.
“Like a slut?” I asked slightly defensive.
“Sexy. I didn’t dress up sexy.” She added.
“Like it or not, you are an attractive woman. You’re going to get noticed.” In the distance I see Ray walking up. He’s was obviously looking for Art. “Looks like the boyfriend has finally arrived.”
Art turns, and waves Ray over.
Ray walked over to us. He wrapped an arm Art and kissed her on top of the head.
“Aw, you guys make such a cute looking couple.” I say to them, giving Art a smirk.
“That’s an amazing costume Ash.” Ray says to me. “You couldn’t get Liz to wear something like that? I count on you to be a bad influence.”
“Hey!” Art exclaims. “I’m standing right here.”
We make small talk and eventually Josh shows up, and drags me to the dance floor. It didn’t take much arm twisting—as Ashlyn, I love to dance.
An hour or so later, I see Art waving me down.
“I’ve had enough.” She tells me. “I’m going to tell Ray I’m not feeling well, and I’m ready to leave.”
“Wow, it’s still early. You sure you don’t want to stick around?” I say to her.
“I am so done.”
Art and Ray take off and the rest of the night almost went without incident.
Almost.
After dancing with Josh for a while, he ran off to the rest room, leaving me alone for a few minutes. A very drunk Susan (blonde in a school girl outfit) staggered up beside me.
“I really don’t know what he sees in you.” She slurs. “You’re nothing but a big breasted gold digging whore.”
“Excuse me?” I was honestly surprised. I wasn’t expecting a personal attack from another woman. I mean, women are sugar and spice, right?
“I said you are nothing but a big breasted gold digging whore—who doesn’t deserve a guy like Josh. Bitch.”
I was unprepared for this, but decided to take the high road. “Look Susan, you’re drunk—“
“How dare you judge me!” She cut me off, swung her arm, and slapped me.
Without even thinking about it, I slapped her back. I realized it was a mistake the moment I did it. I just wanted to get away from this crazy chick—Susan was looking for a fight.
I’m an easy going guy—girl now. It might have been 15 years since I have been in any kind of physical fight. But kind of like I couldn’t go two months as Ashlyn without getting sick, I couldn’t go two months without getting in a cat fight.
Susan jumps me, and to the amusement of the party crowd, a catholic school girl and a sexy pirate wench were rolling around on the floor--hitting, scratching, and pulling hair.
The really sad part is that Susan was kicking my ass. I was getting beat up by a girl. I’ve decided it was because Susan knew how to fight as a girl—I didn’t have a clue.
Security dragged us apart. Josh showed up just in time to see the very end. Fortunately, the police don’t seem to get called in for cat fights.
Josh drove me home—not that we had much choice, security demanded we leave. He asked me if I wanted to go somewhere else, but my costume was torn and I was dying of embarrassment—I just wanted the night to be over.
When we get to my place, Josh parks the car and I apologize for ruining the party and our date.
“Then make it up to me—let’s go out again.” He says.
“Deal.” I go to open the door and get out, but Josh gently places his hand on my arm, stopping me. He leans in and kisses me. I knew when I said I would go out with him to the party that the night might end with a kiss—so I was slightly prepared and tried not freeze up. I also knew that a kiss was my limit and he had no chance of coming inside.
The kiss was nice, but it still feels weird to kiss a guy. I give it a mixed review.
He jumps out of the car, opens my door for me and walks me to my door.
My night was finally over. I walk into my bedroom and look at myself in my big mirror.
I was a mess. “Happy two month anniversary Ashlyn.” I get out of the costume and into bed.
Jake
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Jake/Ashlyn--Halloween part 1
I received a second gift from my secret admirer Wednesday a week ago. It was a bottle of perfume-- Dolce & Gabbana “Light Blue”, with it was a note:
A new scent to go with your new look.
From your secret admirer.
At that point I was still not too worried. I was determined to not read too much into the gifts and notes. I’m guessing Ashlyn was the kind of girl who often received anonymous gifts—and the notes could be interpreted many different ways.
Yesterday morning, Halloween, I received my third gift and now I am officially concerned.
Boots. Not just any boots either—but knee high black leather boots that go perfect with my Halloween costume. It’s like someone knew I had to pass on the boots when I bought my costume—I simply couldn’t afford them. They were also in my size.
The note with the boots said: I thought you might enjoy these, I know I would enjoy seeing you in them. From your secret Admirer. PS—You have the body of a Venus.
All the notes have hinted that my secret admirer knows my secret that I am not really the busty red head I appear to be, but they are just vague enough to mean nothing at all.
Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I’ve shown all three notes to my roommates Billie and Jordan, and they didn’t seem to be too concerned. Then again, they don’t know my secret.
“Besides Ash,” Jordan says to me, with a slightly contempt sound to her voice, “This is sooooo much better than your last secret admirer—The guy who would take pictures of his body parts and send them to you.”
I decided to worry about it later—I had to get ready for work. I was working the lunch shift on Halloween so I could be free that night to go to the party. I had a small problem in the fact I had to wear a costume to work and didn’t want to wear the costume I bought for the party. I’ve noticed food enviably gets on you clothing if you are a waitress, it doesn’t matter how careful you are.
So I started digging through my closet looking for something that would work as a costume. I had given the closet a cursory search months ago when I first arrived in Cambridge, but this time I was going though the boxes I passed on before. I hit pay dirt on things I wasn’t looking for, but could come in very handy.
I found several photos albums—and better than just pictures, Ashlyn apparently wrote little captions for all the photos. I now know what my new Mom and Dad look like.
I also found several diaries. The most recent one was only a year old. I skimmed it for a moment then put it away for later study—if I am going to live this life for now on, it would be nice to know a little of it’s history.
I found some paperwork to a modeling agency, releases for some photographs, and a box of “Headshots” of Ashlyn—headshots are what actors (and models?) send out as resumes.
Lastly, I found the perfect Halloween costume for work.
Ashlyn’s high school cheerleader’s uniform. If I had found this earlier, I might not have bought they costume I got shopping with Art.
I squeeze into the uniform, put on my pink running shoes, and put my hair up in pig tails. I was ready for work. I pause in front of the big mirror in my room and do a few mock cheerleader poses. Deep down I know it’s unhealthy to be so self absorbed by my reflection, but I just can’t help myself. I wonder if the real Ashlyn was as fond of her reflection as I am?
I made a lot in tips that lunch.
The Party:
According to the packaging, my costume is called “Vixen Pirate Wench with Velvet Double Lace Corset Dress” it’s red and black, and sexy as hell. I couldn’t resist wearing the boots with it. I’m too embarrassed to put in this blog how long I spent on hair and makeup.
Josh picked me up in his brand new blue Acura. I was kind o f envious—I miss my Jeep. In Texas everyone has a car or truck. Here in the North East not everyone does, and for those who do, there is not enough parking.
It felt funny when he opened the door for me, plus I was wearing a short skirt, so getting into the car was a little awkward. The car was pretty, but what really got my attention was the navigation system. Once a geek, always a geek, I guess. I think Josh was a little surprised when I started asking him about the specs.
Like I had planned, Josh also was decked out in a pirate look. His was much more rustic looking, and he purposely hadn’t shaved in several days to add to the look. He looked great. I knew we were going to look great together—which I couldn’t understand why that was important to me.
When we get to the party, I realized the pirate look might not have been the way to go. Pirates were very popular this year. At a glance, it seemed like there were more pirates than any other types of costume.
“I guess we are not going to win most original costume.” I say to Josh.
“Maybe not, but I think you’ve got sexiest in the bag.” He slips an arm around me.
I pull away, trying to not look obvious about it. “Let’s dance.”
We dance. We drink. We have a good time. Josh ran into some friends—three couples—and introduced me to them. We find a table, and take it over.
Susan, a pretty blonde in the group, sits next to me and says, “So you are the Ashlyn that Josh has been talking about. I can see why he’s so crazy about you.” She made pleasant conversation, but seemed cold to me.
Susan was wearing a school girl outfit. The other two women in our group are wearing sexy outfits as well. Sitting there, I realized we all looked like strippers.
We continue to drink and have a good time. I’ve learned to pace myself—in the past I’ve made the mistake of drinking like I was still Jake. I decided my days of getting totally smashed are over—it’s just too dangerous as a woman.
I caught Susan staring at Josh a few times—and whenever Josh said something funny, no one laughed louder than she did. I haven’t been a woman all that long, but my intuition was telling me that Susan had a thing for Josh.
Art showed up late and alone, and I am betting unintentionally, looking very cute in an Oakland Raiders jersey.
I ran over to him and drug him over to our table. “Everyone, this is Liz.”
Josh acted like he knew Liz. Which I guess is possible, but I don’t think the new Liz and Josh have crossed paths yet.
“So where’s Ray?” Josh asked grinning. “I was going to bum some free legal advice from him.”
“Oh he’ll show up. He just had to work late.” Art gives me a look. “I can’t believe you are actually wearing that.”
I shrug. “It’s fun. I still think you would have looked good in the genie costume.”
Things were going great, and then a bunch of the other girls who work as promo girls for the radio station showed up, saw me and joined us at our table. I have had conversations with these women, but nothing to deep or special--now they were acting like we were best friends—and they were waaaaaayyyy ahead of us on drinks. You get enough hot looking drunk women in one area, and guys show up from everywhere. Our little group around a table turned into a huge group with multiple tables pushed together.
Damn. It’s 9am and I’ve got to get ready for work. I’ll finish up Halloween tonight.
Jake
A new scent to go with your new look.
From your secret admirer.
At that point I was still not too worried. I was determined to not read too much into the gifts and notes. I’m guessing Ashlyn was the kind of girl who often received anonymous gifts—and the notes could be interpreted many different ways.
Yesterday morning, Halloween, I received my third gift and now I am officially concerned.
Boots. Not just any boots either—but knee high black leather boots that go perfect with my Halloween costume. It’s like someone knew I had to pass on the boots when I bought my costume—I simply couldn’t afford them. They were also in my size.
The note with the boots said: I thought you might enjoy these, I know I would enjoy seeing you in them. From your secret Admirer. PS—You have the body of a Venus.
All the notes have hinted that my secret admirer knows my secret that I am not really the busty red head I appear to be, but they are just vague enough to mean nothing at all.
Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I’ve shown all three notes to my roommates Billie and Jordan, and they didn’t seem to be too concerned. Then again, they don’t know my secret.
“Besides Ash,” Jordan says to me, with a slightly contempt sound to her voice, “This is sooooo much better than your last secret admirer—The guy who would take pictures of his body parts and send them to you.”
I decided to worry about it later—I had to get ready for work. I was working the lunch shift on Halloween so I could be free that night to go to the party. I had a small problem in the fact I had to wear a costume to work and didn’t want to wear the costume I bought for the party. I’ve noticed food enviably gets on you clothing if you are a waitress, it doesn’t matter how careful you are.
So I started digging through my closet looking for something that would work as a costume. I had given the closet a cursory search months ago when I first arrived in Cambridge, but this time I was going though the boxes I passed on before. I hit pay dirt on things I wasn’t looking for, but could come in very handy.
I found several photos albums—and better than just pictures, Ashlyn apparently wrote little captions for all the photos. I now know what my new Mom and Dad look like.
I also found several diaries. The most recent one was only a year old. I skimmed it for a moment then put it away for later study—if I am going to live this life for now on, it would be nice to know a little of it’s history.
I found some paperwork to a modeling agency, releases for some photographs, and a box of “Headshots” of Ashlyn—headshots are what actors (and models?) send out as resumes.
Lastly, I found the perfect Halloween costume for work.
Ashlyn’s high school cheerleader’s uniform. If I had found this earlier, I might not have bought they costume I got shopping with Art.
I squeeze into the uniform, put on my pink running shoes, and put my hair up in pig tails. I was ready for work. I pause in front of the big mirror in my room and do a few mock cheerleader poses. Deep down I know it’s unhealthy to be so self absorbed by my reflection, but I just can’t help myself. I wonder if the real Ashlyn was as fond of her reflection as I am?
I made a lot in tips that lunch.
The Party:
According to the packaging, my costume is called “Vixen Pirate Wench with Velvet Double Lace Corset Dress” it’s red and black, and sexy as hell. I couldn’t resist wearing the boots with it. I’m too embarrassed to put in this blog how long I spent on hair and makeup.
Josh picked me up in his brand new blue Acura. I was kind o f envious—I miss my Jeep. In Texas everyone has a car or truck. Here in the North East not everyone does, and for those who do, there is not enough parking.
It felt funny when he opened the door for me, plus I was wearing a short skirt, so getting into the car was a little awkward. The car was pretty, but what really got my attention was the navigation system. Once a geek, always a geek, I guess. I think Josh was a little surprised when I started asking him about the specs.
Like I had planned, Josh also was decked out in a pirate look. His was much more rustic looking, and he purposely hadn’t shaved in several days to add to the look. He looked great. I knew we were going to look great together—which I couldn’t understand why that was important to me.
When we get to the party, I realized the pirate look might not have been the way to go. Pirates were very popular this year. At a glance, it seemed like there were more pirates than any other types of costume.
“I guess we are not going to win most original costume.” I say to Josh.
“Maybe not, but I think you’ve got sexiest in the bag.” He slips an arm around me.
I pull away, trying to not look obvious about it. “Let’s dance.”
We dance. We drink. We have a good time. Josh ran into some friends—three couples—and introduced me to them. We find a table, and take it over.
Susan, a pretty blonde in the group, sits next to me and says, “So you are the Ashlyn that Josh has been talking about. I can see why he’s so crazy about you.” She made pleasant conversation, but seemed cold to me.
Susan was wearing a school girl outfit. The other two women in our group are wearing sexy outfits as well. Sitting there, I realized we all looked like strippers.
We continue to drink and have a good time. I’ve learned to pace myself—in the past I’ve made the mistake of drinking like I was still Jake. I decided my days of getting totally smashed are over—it’s just too dangerous as a woman.
I caught Susan staring at Josh a few times—and whenever Josh said something funny, no one laughed louder than she did. I haven’t been a woman all that long, but my intuition was telling me that Susan had a thing for Josh.
Art showed up late and alone, and I am betting unintentionally, looking very cute in an Oakland Raiders jersey.
I ran over to him and drug him over to our table. “Everyone, this is Liz.”
Josh acted like he knew Liz. Which I guess is possible, but I don’t think the new Liz and Josh have crossed paths yet.
“So where’s Ray?” Josh asked grinning. “I was going to bum some free legal advice from him.”
“Oh he’ll show up. He just had to work late.” Art gives me a look. “I can’t believe you are actually wearing that.”
I shrug. “It’s fun. I still think you would have looked good in the genie costume.”
Things were going great, and then a bunch of the other girls who work as promo girls for the radio station showed up, saw me and joined us at our table. I have had conversations with these women, but nothing to deep or special--now they were acting like we were best friends—and they were waaaaaayyyy ahead of us on drinks. You get enough hot looking drunk women in one area, and guys show up from everywhere. Our little group around a table turned into a huge group with multiple tables pushed together.
Damn. It’s 9am and I’ve got to get ready for work. I’ll finish up Halloween tonight.
Jake
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