It was approaching midnight, and Connor walked down the side street with Lunette by his side. She still wore all of Kila's old clothes, which now fit considerably better, for reasons that Connor was trying mightily to understand.They had left the main streets behind, just to get away from the omnipresent crowds. Lunette had started to speak three times, and each time she had stopped, unsure of how to explain.
"You must understand, I haven't had to... to explain zis for many many years."
"Of course," Connor said, nodding, not really understanding.
"I suppose I should start back at the beginning, oui?"
"Works for me."
She glanced up at him. He was still a little startled by how young she looked, how fresh-faced and innocent she looked. Earlier that night he had picked up someone who would most definitely have passed for a successful stripper, and now, she looked like she should be getting back to her Psychology 101 class. She had assured her that this was what she actually looked like, most of the time, which did nothing to ease his confusion.
"When I was little, you see, I was in school all day, and everyone in school knew what I looked like, and it never occurred to anyone to Want anything different from me, but when boys, zey get to a certain age, their desires start to change." She glanced at him, but his mind was once again grey. "Most boys."
He eyed her funny, then had to smile, a little bit. "Hey, we're not here to talk about me, missy. We're here to talk about you, even if you make no sense."
"I'm getting to zat. As I said, once boys got to a certain age, they started to Want... that's a capital W, by the way."
"I assumed."
"Yes, it was then that I discovered that my body tended to... to respond to their desires, to their wants. It was always in small ways, because the Wants were never in the front of their mind, and were never aimed at me... is a bit like second-hand smoke, you know? Anyways, some days my hair would be longer when I got home than when I left, or my boobs bigger, or my eyes a different color. Small things, simple things, but as I got older, they started to think more, they started to think harder, and I had to start wearing baggy clothes to hide all the changes."
Connor's eyes had widened, and had he not heard the same voice coming out of two very different people, wearing the same clothes, he would not have believed a word of it. "Couldn't your parents help? Surely they had to notice. Take you out of school, or something?"
She shook her head. "Zey knew I was different, already, but they didn't believe me, because as soon as I got home, I became what they Wanted, and that was a normal girl. It's not always about... about lust. They Wanted their daughter to be normal, so for them, I was. For the boys at school, I was a voluptuous tramp, and for the random men on the street, I was an innocent, gullible waif. My mind never changed to what they Wanted, but I was afraid someday, it would."
He had to nod, a bit of dawning realization startling him. "Someone might Want you to not just be someone, but do something you didn't want to."
"Oui," she said softly, eyes downcast. Cautiously, he put his arm around her, comforting her, careful to keep his mind blank. She looked up at him, and smiled a little. "Most guys."
He smiled back. "Go on. If you want, I mean, you don't have to tell me any more, I think I get the idea."
"No no, I... I want to tell you. You have done so much for me, and you still don't Want anything from me. If you don't mind me saying, monsieur, this is a new experience for me."
Connor chuckled, and she continued. "I started getting asked out, and one boy I liked, Roger, asked me to a dance. I said yes, because his Wants were almost what I looked like normally, and I thought that if he Wanted me like that more, it might help keep me from changing. We dated, we got to know eachother, and we started to like eachother more, but I still couldn't, you know... go all ze way. Without telling him, I mean."
She paused, wondering how to phrase it, but decided against it. Later. Not now. He would find out later. "So I told him, and at first, it was ok. We were in his car, parked and necking, and he seemed to take it ok. But almost immediately, he Wanted something. When he found out he could do it, when he found out he had that power over me, his Wants surfaced, and he became... different. I was ok, at first, he tried to make it seem like he still liked me, but wanted to try new things. First was ze boobs, you know... teenaged boys, zey love them. I was ok with that. But at school, he started Wanting me, making me change. I was blonde for a few days, and I had a fuck of a time explaining that."
Another pause, another nervous swallow. "Then he started making demands. Telling me to do things, or he would change me worse at school. He always acted like it was a joke, like it was funny, but I was scared. I went along, for a while. I hated it... I enjoyed pleasing him before I'd told him, but now, it made me sad, it made it worse. In ze end, I wouldn't go all the way, and he made me change... in class. My boobs, my bottom, my... everything started growing. People were laughing, and I ran. And he followed me, and said it was my last chance."
They walked in silence for nearly half a block. Connor couldn't possibly say anything in that space, and Lunette seemed to be preparing herself. She took a shuddering breath, and squared her shoulders. "When he got close, I kneed him very, very hard. He started screaming, and people started coling out of the classes. I ran, and... and he kept screaming. To zis day, I still don't know if he's ok. I went home, I got some money, and I ran."
She sniffled. "I ran, and I hitched, and... and I came here. My first waitress job lasted only five days before zis big man, truck driver, apparently thought I looked like his ex-girlfriend, and I started to change in ze diner. That.... that didn't go well, and I ran."
"I managed to get a job answering phones, and no-one Wanted me for anything, there, and it was there that I got an idea, and... and I put personals in ze newspaper. I told people that they could call me, for ze girl of their dreams. And zey would call, and zey would... describe what zey wanted, and when I went to meet them, I had changed most of the way, and I would always finish very quickly, when I could see their minds. it paid good money, and many of ze men were very nice, but one night... one night, it was a family man, and..."
Connor had taken three steps before realizing that she had stopped. He turned, eyes wide with concern, and walked back. He put his hands on her shoulders, thin and shaking under Kila's coat. "It's ok," he said softly, pulling her close, wrapping his arms around her. She was even slimmer than she had been when they met, he marveled. She couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds. "They're gone, and..."
He stopped. Down at the end of the block they had just travelled past was a man in a black duster. He was leaning in a doorway, smoking, and making a very impressive show of not looking at them. He hadn't been there when they had walked past that doorway minutes earlier. "They're gone, and it's time we were gone, too," he said, keeping his voice steady.
She nodded against his chest, and sniffled. "Oui," she said, barely a whisper. She looked up at him, once, her eyes brimming with tears but there was a smile on her lips. "Merci."
"De nada," he replied, smiling back. "But I think we should be on our way, n'est pas?"
"Tu parle francais?"
"Pamplemouuse."
"Ah."
They resumed walking, with Lunette's sleeve brushing Connor's arm. He wanted to take her arm, and she wanted to take his, but neither were sure if it was the right time. They were, however, both content to walk in silence as they looped back around to the bus depot from the other side. The entire time. Lunette's thoughts were focused on what to do with her newfound freedom, and how to tell Connor about the rest of her condition, while Connor was busy trying to figure out the best way to evade the surveillance that his car was no doubt under at the moment.
"So, where do you want to go?" Connor said as they got within a block. He was well trained in how to deal with civilians during stressful, dangerous situations. "I mean, tomorrow. Staying here in town would be a bad idea for you, if they know what you look like."
Lunette sighed. "I don't know. Anywhere else, who's to say the same thing wouldn't happen? I would get into the same trouble, somewhere, sometime. Maybe if I could get a job where I work from home, and no-one ever sees me. Computer tech support..." She seemed pensive, but in her heart, she was yelling, screaming at Connor to let her stay more than one night, just let her stay with him. She could try to be happy in his house, if she could be with him. She had to try.
"Well, I'm more than happy to drive you anywhere you need to go. I've got a bit saved up, and I guess you could say I'm between jobs right now, I could help set you up someplace new. Boston's lovely, this time of year."
Her throat caught, and her reply died there. She almost blurted out something embarassing, but something terrifying saved her. "C..." was all she managed to say, clutching at his arm. Connor, though, was way ahead of her, and as they drew near to his car, he kept them walking past it.
"When we get one car length, turn around and run, get into the car," he murmured from the side of his mouth. They had both seen Rico standing at a window in the bus depot, eyeing them balefully. They passed his car, they passed the Toyota behind it, and Connor knew that there were men getting out of cars, ready to follow again on foot. As soon as they passed the Toyota's bumper, though, Connor shoved her arm slightly, and turned and sprinted around onto the street. Cars screeched to a halt, and for a moment Lunette stopped, staring in horror, afraid her saviour had just been run down, but she saw him simply standing in traffic, forcing the cars to stop, waving his arms. He turned to her, and jabbed ins finger at the car.
She shook herself, and ran the short distance to the car, but she felt like she was running through molasses. Rico would come bursting through the doors to the depot any second, and grab her, drag her to his car, holding a knife to her throat, a gun to her head, a hamfist over her mouth, and she would scream, and scream...
Her fingers closed on the handle, and she yanked it open, practically leaping inside. She very nearly closed the door on her hand as she yanked it shut, the other hand scrabbling for the locking switch. She sat there, panting, for a few seconds, head whipping around, looking for Connor. Traffic had completely halted on the street, but she couldn't see Connor anywhere, and fresh fears that he had been run down or gunned down bloomed in her mind.
"Non, non, non," she moaned, still searching. She had emptied herself of tears that night, though, and through her eyes quivered, she could not cry. She was emptied, emotionally, and she was in a car with no driver in the middle of a mafia ambush, and she didn't know what was going to happen next. She surprised herself by not screaming when Connor whipped open the door and slid inside, slamming the key into the ignition and gunning the engine in a fluid, practiced motion.
"Don't try that at home!" he cried, dropping the car into second, and then all sound was overpowered by the roar of the engines and the squeal of the tires. Lunette was pinned to the plush upholstery, the air almost forced from her chest as they slewed into the curb lane, then the center lane, and almost into oncoming traffic. In the end, the car straightened out, and with nearly a block of road devoid of traffic going their direction, they covered it in seconds.
They caught up to the traffic at an intersection, that Connor rounded at speed, the tires on Lunette's side wailing in protest. Now pinned against the door, it was all she could do to turn her head and stare at Connor who was driving like a man posessed. The engine roared again, and once again she was pinned back, but not as hard, as they wove in and out of the non-speeding traffic.
"That should put some distance between us," he said calmly, while Lunette tried not to hyperventilate. Two more corners taken slightly slower, and he finally eased back on the throttle as the shops and bars gave way to dense residential and apartment buildings. "But damn, they want you back. I counted four. Who did you see?"
She stared out the window, nails digging into her palms, forcing herself to try to calm down. "J-j-juste Rico..." she stammered. "Zere were others?"
He nodded. "Two in a cadillac a few cars down, and one on the other side of the street, plus the guy who had been tailing us. They definitely want you back."
She swallowed, and tried to unclench her small hands. "Probably. I know a lot about them... they talk, a lot, especially after, and some of them... well, let's just say they have tastes that they wouldn't like made public."
"Don't we all," Connor replied wryly. "So what you're saying is you've got a ton of evidence against a mafia crime family, and now you're on the run?"
Her face scrunched up, but there was definitely no more tears, no more sadness, just a sort of empty resignation. "Yup."
"Ok, just making sure we were clear on that."
They drove for a few blocks more, and Lunette decided that to hell with sexual favors, and being objectified. She scooted over on the front seat, placed herself hip to hip with Connor, and wrapped her arms around his right arm, making sure he could still drive. "I hope it's ok," she said, voice unnaturally smooth," but I just really need to hold on to someone right now."
There wasn't the slightest bit of annoyance in his voice as he shifted his right arm, and put it around her shoulders, draping it across her body, where she resumed hugging it like it would try to escape. "That is not a problem, Lunette."
Connor thought about the best route home. He wanted to make sure there were no tails. "I'm going to talk the long way around, come in from the other side, ok?"
She nodded against his arm soundlessly. They drove in silence, and the only noise was Lunette periodically adjusting her stranglehold on his arm. It felt to Connor that she was never going to let go, and he couldn't blame her after the night she had. It was only after they turned at a highway gas station and started to head back into town through a logging road that he heard her soft, gentle snores against his sleeve, and he chuckled to himself. He adjusted his arm slightly to get the blood flowing again, and patted her tummy.
"Tomorrow, we worry," he said. "Tonight, we rest."
Half an hour later, and her snoring had faded into regular, muffled breathing, and Connor had finally pulled onto his stretch of road. He slowed down, flicking off the headlights, and taking the last few miles as silently as he could, the spedometer hovering just above 20. He watched for any suspicious vehicles, glints in the woods, shadows by his house, as they drew nearer. There had been nothing to arouse his suspicion, and as he pulled into his driveway and the smooth hiss of the road was replaced by the loud crunching of gravel, Lunette woke with a jerk. "Quoi...?"
"Shh, shh, shh," he whispered. "It's ok, we're back. I was just making sure there was no-one here." In the moonlight, he could see the rain-slicked lawn, and didn't notice any tire tracks. The gravel was harder to examine, but it, too, seemed as he had left it. He pulled right up to the house, and killed the engine.
"Is that enough excitement for one night?" he said, resting his chin gently on the top of her head.
"Oui," she whispered back, squeezing his arm one last time before reluctantly sliding towards the door of the car.
Connor reached down, slipped his hand beneath the driver's seat, and carefully withdrew the Glock that he kept there, making sure to keep it hidden from Lunette as she got out of the car. He was reasonably sure that there was no-one around, but he didn't make it this far in life relying on reasonable chances. He preferred to make his own. Lunette got out of the car, the dome lights illuminating the beaded grass around them.
They walked slowly to the house, Lunette with her arm through Connor's, and Connor's gun tucked into his jacket pocket. They both breathed a sigh of relief when the door clicked shut behind them. Lunette looked up at Connor, a little bashful.
"I'm sorry to do zis to your life, monsieur Connor," she said contritely. "Car chases and mafia hitmen... I am not ze normal type of girl."
He smiled right back. "The normal types of girl aren't any fun at all," he said, walking up the stairs and beckoning her to follow as she removed her jacket. The living room was as he had left it, but his eye was caught quickly by a note on the fridge. He stopped, and then walked over to it, curiously. He was almost close enough to make it out when a pair of tiny hands encircled his wrist.
"No, no, non," she said, a little nervously. "That was... something I wrote when I left. I... I did not think I would come back. Here, let me.. here..."
Connor wanted to read it, but he didn't have it in him to embarrass her, on top of everything else that had happened. He let her remove it from the fridge, crumple it up and stuff it into the pocket of her jeans. "Top secret, eh?"
"Oui," she said with an elfin smile, but the bloom in her cheeks betrayed her.
They stood in silence for a moment. Connor looked around, and noticed the clock. "Well, it's after midnight. Today really is the first day of the rest of your life, I guess," he said in an effort to reassure her. Brave or bravado, he wasn't sure, but she seemed on the verge of falling over. "Look, why don't we just sit down for a bit. You've had a hell of a night. Would you like a drink?"
She paused on her way to the couch. Her legs were about to give out, but what could it hurt to have a drink? She believed she knew him well enough by now, after the bizarre, amazing night to trust him. "What do you have?" she asked.
"Uhm, I got some local beer, some Glenfiddich, some Grey Goose... you didn't seem too into your whiskey tonight, if you don't mind me saying."
"I didn't order it. Goose and lemon about fifty fifty, if that's all right."
"You must be Canadian. Stop being so polite."
"No."
They shared a laugh, and glasses clinked in the kitchen as Lunette sagged into the couch. Her muscles, now fully back in their original shapes, were exhausted. Her hair hurt, and her forehead pounded, but resting her head back against the leather cushions and closing her eyes seemed to wash it all away. Most nights, when she closed her eyes, she was acutely aware that when she opened them again, she would still be a prisoner, but now... but now, when she opened them again, who knows what would happen?
The couch heaved slightly, and she opened her eyes to see Connor sitting at the opposite end, holding out a stubby glass filled with neon yellow. "Fifty fifty lemon and Goose for the lady. I tell you, Canadians drink the oddest things."
"We can't help it. Our beer has alcohol in it, and it's given us a taste for the good stuff."
She sipped her drink, half-strength lemon juice mixed with half-strength vodka. Somehow, the bitter and the burning cancelled eachother out, leaving only a sweet and sour mixture that warmed her throat and tingled on her tongue. "They usually don't let me order my own drink," she mumbled, eyes closed again, leaning back but closer to Connor than before. "They don't even let me pick out my own clothes. They have a very specific image of what they Want, sometimes down to the specific person. Ex-wife, ex-girlfriend, sister... it's almost always someone they feel victimized by. It might be cathartic for them, but it's... it's not an easy job."
Connor's face hardened. He really, really wanted to wrap his hands around the necks of the people who could do this sort of thing to a young girl who couldn't control how she looked, keep her locked up except when she was brought out as a sexual favor to others. Kila had... had... he sighed. In the long run, the bad guys usually won, since it was easier to be bad in an indifferent world, than good. He wanted to say he was sorry, but he didn't think she wanted to hear it, to have his pity. She was strong.
She sipped again, wriggling her shoulders and maneovering herself closer to Connor, eventually coming to rest against his arm. "Mes ami, this is the longest a man has ever gone without Wanting anything from me." there was something under the surface, she just knew it... someone very special, that he kept buried. There was pain there, but it wasn't the pain of being jilted or dumped. It was loss. She had experienced it a few times from her consorts, but it was a distant minority. Maybe someday, Connor would trust her enough to show her what he Wanted. For him, she would be anyone.
They sat on the couch together for some time. With an exasperated sigh, Lunette reached up and grabbed Connor's arm, bringing it across her body and pinning his hand to her stomach. "You think you'd never been on a couch with a girl before," she said sleepily, enjoying the weight and warmth. Connor smiled as she downed the rest of her drink, and he downed his to match. Both contented and somewhat light-headed, both breathing slowly with faint smiles upon their lips, they fell asleep, Lunette feeling safer than she could remember, and Connor feeling at peace for the first time in years.
-------
The early morning sun streamed in through the high windows, bathing the living room in golden light. Connor, who was long used to sleeping in, did not even vaguely notice, but Lunette blinked herself awake almost immediately. At some point during the night, she had rolled over, and her face rested against Connor's chest, and his hand was pinned between his stomach and her breasts. She giggled slightly, sitting up as gently as she could. She didn't have a whole lot there to offer, but it was still nice to feel an innocent touch again.
Lunette sat on the couch, watching her burly protector snoring contentedly for a few minutes. Even now, asleep, she couldn't read his Want, but it was definitely closer to the surface. She'd coax it out of him, somehow. Careful not to disturb his legs, she stood up and stretched, enjoying the sensation of her joints creaking and popping. It was the sound her new life starting, she fancied, and she planned to enjoy it. The first part of enjoyment would be a shower.
She padded upstairs quietly, glancing once at Connor's open bedroom, but decided that, like her, he valued his privacy. She simply headed into the bathroom, closed the door quietly, and started fiddling with the knobs until she had a steam-billowing shower going. Slowly, she managed to work her body into the stream without scalding herself, and in a few minutes was simply turning in a slow circle, luxuriating in the heat. Once, years ago, she had burned herself in the shower to avoid being taken out on a date with a particularly offensive enforcer, and as punishment, she had had her hot water completely removed. She vowed then and there, surrounded by steam, to have a hot shower, every day. Maybe two.
When the hot water finally began to wane, she reluctantly shut off the taps, and stood there in the fog that remained. Even after swinging aside the shower curtain, she couldn't see much. She giggled. "I think I overdid ze hot water," she said to herself, fumbling for a towel, eventually finding one. Her skin had been scrubbed and seared to a bright pink, and she stood there, wiggling her toes on the bathmat and daubing herself dry while the steam tried to escape. Soon she discovered that the ridiculous heat was causing her to sweat, defeating the whole purpose of the shower, so she quickly wrapped the towel around her midsection, leaving her chest bare, and cracked the door.
A quick peek outside revealed no-one, so she pulled the door open all the way. The cloud of steam filled the hallway as she scampered from the bathroom to the spare bedroom she had forsaken the night before. She let the towel drop, her skin dimpling at the sudden rush of cool air on her skin. She giggled again, looking down at herself, watching the beads of water and sweat drip off of her. Her toes wiggled on the carpet now, and she couldn't resist a girlish little hop. She was going to enjoy this new life if it killed her. Or gave her pneumonia.
She looked around the room for the first time. It was spare... bed, dresser half-filled with a woman's clothes, draped over the window, closet empty except for a few boxes. Definitely a spare room. She rifled through the dresser, trying not to be disrespectful, and found some clothes that fit. She ended up wearing a white t-shirt with an amusement park logo on the front and a black skirt. She even managed to find a pair of panties that fit her, although no bra. Whoever had been here before either didn't wear bras, or had them all thrown out. Both options were curious.
Making sure she looked decent in the bathroom mirror, she headed downstairs to the sight of Connor, still asleep on the couch. She chuckled to herself. It was inexplicably cute to see him just laying there, helpless. She decided to treat him as well as she could manage. The kitchen was a mess, no doubt organized in such a way that he knew where everything was, but it was quite some time before she could even get the coffee machine dripping.
Connor awoke to the sound of metal clattering to the floor, and the realization that Lunette was gone. He bounded to his feet, arms held away from his body, ready for anything. It took a moment for it to register that Lunette was in his kitchen, staring at him, startled and a little afraid. Around her feet were some scattered spoons, and he lowered his arms with a chuckle. She smiled too, sheepishly, and bent to pick them up.
"Sorry, I did not mean to wake you up," she said, bringing the spoons to the small wooden table, upon which already sat bowls, two boxes of cereal, and empty coffee mugs. "Also, it's very difficult to make you bacon and eggs if you don't have bacon, or eggs. Or just about any food. Mon dieu, do you ever go grocery shopping? all you have is cereal and pizza."
"I like cereal and pizza," he said, heading towards the coffee pot. Lunette tried to shoo him away, but when it didn't work, she resorted to gently slapping his arms as he reached for the decanter.
"Stop it! Stop! I am serving you breakfast, and you will accept it, or I shall pour la coffee in your lap. Sit!"
Taken aback and amused, he returned to his seat as she poured the coffee and placed a carton of milk on the table.
"Really, I'm surprised you even have milk. I imagined you eating your Rice Krispies in beer."
"It's good, don't knock it."
They ate their cereal and sipped their coffee in silence, occaisionally exchanging shy, amused glances. It was Lunette who broke the silence.
"That was the first time I've ever slept with a guy."
Connor coughed hard, cerealbouncing off of his fist as he tried to get it under control. Lunette laughed, tilting back her head as Connor changed color. After a minute, his coughs had become rueful chuckles, and his blushing faded. "Well, for a certain definition of slept..."
"I like that definition," she said, staring into his eyes. "It's... nicer. Sometimes."
"Sometimes..."
Lunette reached accross the table, and grabbed his empty bowl. "You stay sitting, monsieur, I will handle zese. And by handle, I mean I'll put them in the sink and let you wash them later." She stood up, a bowl in each hand, and started to walk to the sink when she felt a strangle sliding sensation on her legs. She stopped, stock still, looking down in horror as the black skirt, which was meant for a much hipper girl than herself, slid to the ground. Her stomach lurched, and the bowls in her hands began to quiver, the spoons rattling.
Behind her, Connor started laughing again. "Wow, you are a slim girl, aren't you?" he said, before realizing that she was shaking. His laugher died immediately. "Whats wrong?"
The bowls still rattling, she carefully placed them on the counter, and smoothed her hands against her sides. "You know," she said, "I knew last night that I would have to share this with you sometime. I just didn't know it was going to be so soon."
"Share what?"
"Please, please just... don't be mad," she said, her voice faint. Slowly, she turned around, revealing eyes already rimmed with tears, a mouth that was quavering, and the front of her now skirtless body. While it was true that she had found a pair of white panties that fit, this was only because they were several sized larger than a girl of her stature would normally wear. Eyes downcast, she turned around completely, revealing her smooth thighs, and white undies that were filled much more substantially up front than she liked to let on.
Connor's wide eyes fell on her cotton-clad package, and his breathing stopped, too. Lunette was frozen, perfectly still... this was the second time she had ever revealed herself to a man before he knew what she could do, and she could only think of how badly it had gone the first time with a man who seemed to be so good for her. She was not unusually large, if you ignore the fact that she was female. As far as she knew, she was roughly the same size as a regular adult male, but on her frame, with her slender legs, there was quite a bit of projection when the complete set was forced to snuggle into a pair of women's underwear.
After a moment, Connor looked up at her, a strange look in his eyes. "Are you reading my mind?"
She looked at him quizzically. "No, I... this... this is me. I was born this way. I can be what a man wants... or a woman wants. Or anyone wants. I'm not really one, or the other... I guess I'm both. Your mind?"
Connor nodded slowly, looking her up and down. He stood up, walked over to her, and careful to keep himself to her side, knelt down and pulled the skirt back up, reaffixing it around her hips. "You should sit down," he said gently, guiding her back to the table.
Lunette wasn't sure what was going on. He wasn't angry. He wasn't annoyed. He wasn't even really surprised. He was.... curious. She swallowed... what in the world did this mean? Who WAS he?
He sat down opposite her, and took a moment to compose himself. "I guess you're wondering where the clothes you're wearing came from." He took a deep breath, and launched into a story he had never told anyone.
"Her name was Kila," he began.
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