* *
*
Rated: TEEN
I dismissed the thoughts for now. It wasn't the first time something strange - may or may not have happened in my life and I couldn't remember. I think it was the anti-psychotic meds I was on.
I yawned and went back to bed, already having set the phone to mute so my late-night callers could get in the system, look around, write their friends, and download files - all without disturbing my sleep.
It was the next day. I was certainly sleeping well. looking at the clock it was already 10am and I was still sleepy. Seroquel does that to you.
I reluctantly got up, took a good bath, cleaned up nicely, put on my robe and was just getting ready to raid the company fridge for breakfast when the intercom signaled for my attention.
I hit the button and spoke into it.
"Yes ?"
"David, this is Tricia. I'm having a problem, can you come see me. I'm on the 2nd floor, room #178 Art department."
Without waiting for a reply she clicked off the receiver, which - I guess meant I would. Breakfast would wait.
I changed from the robe to the clothes she set out for me, which this time weren't quite so ludicrous. Actually looked like something I might wear when I get back to work.
I took the elevator. I was on the first floor. I hit the [2] button and saw a quick flash of that green light through the doors, then normal lighting again. I would call Trudy up once I was finished here and her and me were definitely going to inspect that mysterious floor.
I knocked on room # 178. "Come in, David." she said without waiting for me to say who it was.
Inside it was apparently a room used for art, just like she mentioned earlier. There were canvases, paints, brushes, and - dresses ?
I saw Tricia, she was holding the top half of a dressing bust that was apparently broken from the jagged cut near the waist. Seeing me she tossed it down and quick as a wink took a roll of tape measure over my height and width in my waist.
"Perfect." she said. I looked and could see her face was beaded with sweat. She apparently had been working on an outfit for a-while.
I was curious about the dressing bust. "What happened here ?"
"Stupid thing broke right down the middle. Now that you're here that won't be a problem. And - you're just the right size."
"Size for what ?"
"To help me with this dress. You will help me, won't you ?"
"Sure." I said absently, looking at one of the paintings which was of an old Victorian dress.
"You promise ? Really promise ? Won't back out ? I really need your help on this."
I paused for a second. Stupidly I thought she meant that I was tall enough to hold the measure for a dress or something while she worked with the pins on it or something.
"Yeah, no problem. I have as they say, a free schedule. I know I keep saying that." and laughed a bit to myself. She continued to look at me sternly. "Yes, I promise. Geez !" I added.
"Great ! I knew I could count on you. Okay, the dress and skirt are behind this changing panel. Go and put them on."
I looked at her curiously for a second. Then I went behind the panel. There was this pretty dress and skirt. Not really understanding, I folded them up, put them on my shoulder, and walked out for her to see.
"Nono, David, I need to measure it against you."
"Okay." I said. Then I set the skirt down and held the dress part up to my chest and neck. "How's this ?" Surely she could get the measurements she needed now.
"You're sweet, but that's not good enough. I need you to try them on, honey."
Just then it sank in my brain what she wanted me to do.
"Whaaat !?"
"Put - them - on. Both of them. You're just the right size if my calculations are correct and since the bust broke, I need a new form to work with." she held up a sketch pad and I could see she had drawn quite a bit on it. Arcs and angles went off in different tangents and trajectories, and she had numbers written for lengths.
I didn't argue. I wanted to get this over as quick as possible. I went back behind the changing and put the dress over my regular clothes and the skirt over my pants. I certainly wasn't going to undress for this.
"This better be enough." I groaned and stepped out.
She threw the pen down in an angry snap. "God David, NO ! Don't you understand English ? I need you to UNDRESS and put on that dress and skirt. Come on ! I haven't got all day !"
I shook my head, "I am NOT going to do that. What if - what if someone sees me ?"
"No-one's going to see you ! She walked forward, grabbed me by my shoulder and marched me back behind the dressing panel. Do I have to do it myself ?"
* * *
"I'm not going to - "
"Fine. You promised me and now you're backing out of your promise. I =WILL= do it myself !" With that she reached forward and undid the buckle to my pants and pulled them down with the skirt. I was still wearing those stupid panties she got me - remember - saying she'll let me know when I can wear 'big boy' clothes. Married life. Was it supposed to be this bad ?
"Shoes." she said angrily. I sat down on the bench back there and didn't move.
"You're not making this easy !" she said and grabbed my feet, pulling off my socks and shoes in the process.
Then she roughly unbuttoned my shirt pulling that off with the dress. I Then she separated the two, took my clothes in a bundle and walked away leaving me to chatter my teeth as now I was naked except for the undies. She returned after a minute carrying the dress and skirt.
"Now WILL YOU PUT THIS ON !?"
"NO !"
"Do I have to dress you myself - like your Mother ?"
I sighed. I certainly couldn't leave now without my clothes, but I just - couldn't - put on the dress or skirt. Something in my brain wouldn't let me.
"Fine !" she was getting mad at me and not so gentle. She grabbed both feet and shoved the skirt on. Then yanked both arms up holding them with one hand tightly, pulling on a muscle in my shoulder, and jammed the dress over it.
"Stand up." she ordered. I was about ready to fall off the seat the way I was now so I did.
She spent one minute adjusting everything. I felt I could cry. I did not want to be here. I didn't want to be dressed the way I was. I wanted back my original clothes. This was just NOT RIGHT.
If anything Tricia seemed pleased with herself.
"Let me see." she said as if it were a great thing she did.
I raised my arms and stepped forward. She nodded. "Up in the light, please, honey."
I walked out and she clicked on a lamp for a better look. My eyes however were glued to the door that led inside. God I couldn't let anyone see me like this.
Tricia muttered under her breath and went to the door and pushing in the button, twisted it.
"There, it's locked. Just you and me, okay ? Now stand still so I can get this done."
I bit my lip but held my resolve. She took the fabric tape measure and went all around me, sketching on that pad she had earlier. She had a calculator too and was adding up some numbers. It took several minutes.
"How much longer ?" I wailed. The short skirt was beginning to itch and I suspected it was brand new not having been washed yet despite being cotton.
Just then the intercom buzzed.
"Christ on a cream cheese bagel ! Who could that be ?" she muttered angrily.
She hit the intercom.
"What !?" she asked roughly.
"Sorry to interrupt you miss Candy, we couldn't reach you at your residence. We have a code 17 here."
"Code 17. God ! Are you sure ?"
"Yes ma'am."
Tricia then stopped to look at me, the sketch and figures she wrote down, then back at the intercom.
"I'm leaving now !" she said. Then she clicked off the intercom. She addressed me, "Stay here, David. This won't take long. We're almost done here."
"What about my clothes ?"
"God what are you, a little kid ? Change back if you can't stand it. I can't stay any longer, look - I have to answer this !"
She hurriedly grabbed her purse and unlocking the door to the art room ran out. The door closed back on it's own being on a spring.
I went back behind the changing panel and sat on the bench for a second.
I would be nice, I told myself, and wait for her - well, maybe a few minutes.
There was a book of dresses for dressmakers on the shelf. I took it and brought the chair near a clock that I could easily see on the far wall.
Bored, I thumbed through the book. Time passed. A good 15-minutes. That was enough. I got up and went to the closet she set my clothes in, but to my dismay found there was a combination lock on it !
"What the hell !" I pulled on the door and it mightily resisted opening, being made out of a strong metal.
There was space below, no more than an hand high so I got down on my hands and knees to see if I could grab them from the floor where I hope she tossed them. To my bad luck they weren't on the floor and likely on a shelf above.
I wasn't licked yet. I went to one of the open lockers and pulled out a hanger. Then I bent it into a crude claw. I went back to the locked locker and shoved the hanger and my arm way under it.
It wasn't enough. I grunted and flattened my belly hard against the ground with my knees wide apart and waist in the air looking in that cursed darkness for any sign of my clothes.
I had only scrabbled for a few moments when I heard, "There's a cheeky sunrise if I ever saw one."
"What !?" I yelped and found that my arm was stuck.
"Who is that ?" I heard the voice laugh. "David, oh my God, is that you ?"
It was Trudy.
END
OF CHAPTER 21
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