Can't Say No Ch. 09

Foreword: The wait was long, but hopefully it was worth it. Please leave a comment or reach out to me if you enjoyed the story.

Shapes whizzed by in a blur out the window. With enough speed, even the boring, familiar route home could be terrifying. I sat in the passenger seat, sweaty, legs splayed, trying to catch my breath from the run to the car.

"Aren't you driving kind of... fast?" Outside, we flashed past a yellow light. "I thought Mr. Lunder wasn't coming over for another..." In my head, I puzzled with the mental math. After a few moments, however, the notifications on my phone saved me. "Well, not until later tonight..."

"We only have an hour and forty minutes, honey." Hair whipped across mom's face as she changed lanes. The car lurched. All the while, mom kept a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. "...And you will need every bit of that time to get ready."

Only half paying attention, I nodded, mostly focused on taking a picture of myself. Soccer practice had left my cheeks flushed. Still, I looked cute with my tongue sticking out, ponytail draped over my shoulder. Snapchat was all about finding the right angle, though honestly, every angle was working for me. 'Post workout vibes', I typed, and sent the message out.

"Uh... I probably won't need long." I responded, already thinking ahead. Before dinner, I could lay in bed and watch some match highlights from the day's games. The time would also be useful for planning next week's workouts.

"Jessie." Mom laid a hand down, obnoxiously blocking my phone screen. What did she think she was doing? Indignant, I glared over at her, trying to yank my phone clear of her hand.

"What?" I spat, wrestling with her hand.

"This dinner is important." Mom surveyed me, pursing her lips as though I were a bundle of dirty linens. "You need all the time you can spare if you're going to look presentable."

"Why should I bother? It's not like there's anything worth dressing up for." Doing the minimum makeup for school was exhausting enough. Showering and reapplying everything after school was a special kind of torment. Besides, it wasn't like I needed it, I looked good already. Anyone with eyes could see that.

Mom pursed her lips, foretelling an impending lecture. "You're exhausted from practice, I understand, but no daughter of mine is going to dress like a slob. All I'm asking is for you to do the minimum to be a good host. Can you do that for me? Please?" Mom said. The lines on her face deepened. She sounded tired. "Besides, when you're done freshening up, you'll be glad you did. Otherwise, the surprise won't be any good."

Surprise? The way things had been going recently, it was easy to forget such things existed. What could mom be planning? When I left for school, nothing had been out of place, but maybe I missed something. "What kind of surprise?" I demanded.

In the driver's seat, mom smiled slyly, revealing sparkling teeth. "Oh, you're going to love it." She turned into our driveway. "But I can't say anything until you at least clean yourself up."

No matter how diligently I scrubbed, there always seemed to be a stubborn spot of dirt. I targeted my knees with soap until they were pink, but to no avail. It had always been that way, much to my mom's exasperation. Still, I made an honest effort. Usually, I preferred to spend my time enjoying the warm water, rather than fussing over myself. If I picked out something below the knees, I would look great, dirt be damned.

Gentle plops of water drowned out the world beyond the shower stall. I stared into the drain. My toenails were chipped, an inevitable toll of time spent wearing cleats, but the green polish held up surprising well. I drew my arms to my chest, drawing in warmth. Festering in the back of my mind, like a splinter, was the knowledge Mr. Lunder would be having dinner with us in an hour. Not for the first time, I dreaded what would happen when we met face to face.

The past two weeks had required a lot of sneaking around. Cutting through yards, and slipping in the back door when no one was looking. At home, I spent most of my time in my room, under siege, watching soccer and browsing on my phone. Outside, the warm weather cried out, teasing me with tantalizing rays of sunshine. Instead, my backyard soccer net sat unused. Going into the yard was out of the question. Not if there was a chance of seeing him out there. Instead, I kept my blinds firmly closed. On the other side, somewhere out in his yard, Mr. Lunder would be prowling, waiting for me to show up. I didn't want to give him that opportunity.

Tonight, despite painstaking efforts to avoid him, I would have to see him again. Hiding had failed me. Perhaps, it had never even been possible. I ground my teeth. The position mom had put me in wasn't fair. I didn't deserve this. Spending an evening with Mr. Lunder was a nightmare. No one got to boss me into it. If I didn't want to go to dinner, I wouldn't go. I could just lock myself in my room.

There was one small nagging problem. The promise I'd made. Ever since losing her job, Mom had been in a strange mood. Her job made no sense to me, but I'd wanted to cheer her up. So, I agreed to her awful dinner idea. Now, there was no choice but to go through with it. The alternative was upsetting mom further. In her fragile state, one small thing might push her over the edge.

I stepped out of my sanctuary into the cold world beyond. Once in front of the mirror, my work began. Green eyes glared at me, frowning at my every inconvenience as I methodically slogged through my well-worn routine. Before High School, Mom had drilled me relentlessly. In those days it was the subject of frequent sobbing and shouting matches. Until I realized it was easier to do it than to try and get away with skipping it. Now it was simply a thoughtless task.

Makeup was a waste of time. So was doing your hair. There was no point. Both quickly got messed up when I ran around outside. It was just another inconvenience that couldn't be avoided. A lot of things were pointless though, so what was one more thing?

The finished product spoke for itself. My eyes were captivating. There was no way to avoid admiring them for a while. The rest of my face was no less exceptional. For a moment I scanned my reflection, looking for some flaw or imperfection, but of course, there was none. Honestly, there probably wasn't a face in the universe as captivating as mine. I smiled spectacularly--bathing the room in warmth--before returning to an emotionless frown. It was a waste of time getting all dressed up, especially when no one that mattered would even see it.

Clad in bra and underwear, I stomped up to my room. Shivers ran down my arms from the draft. Makeup and hair, an undeniable waste of an hour. Even homework would've been a better use of my time. Plus, there was still the matter of picking out what to wear.

Something white rested on my bed. A dress. I leapt over and snatched it up. Dark thoughts quickly banished by soft fabric. Pristine silk lined the outside, inviting me to reach my hand out and caress the folds. The texture was sublime.

Whirling around, I raised the dress up to the mirror to admire it better. The shoulders were open. I didn't have any open shoulder dresses in my wardrobe. This would make a splendid addition. With satisfaction, I noted the skirts were higher than my other dresses. Growing up, Mom always insisted on floor length dresses, which often left me on the verge of tripping. This dress would have enviable freedom of movement.

Unable to stand the suspense, I stepped into the dress and pulled it up, bolting out of the room. My feet flew down the stairs and carried me to the kitchen, where there was an ominous clatter of pans. "Mom, can you help zip me up?"

Smoke billowed from the stove. The scent of steak initiated a loud grumbling in my stomach. There hadn't been time to eat after practice. I scanned the room until I found what I was looking for, a pile of fresh baked rolls. Holding my dress up with my free hand, I reached for one, but Mom slapped my hand away playfully.

"Not now, Jess, wait until dinner." She looked me up and down and smiled, lending relief to her strained features. Cooking was never her favorite activity. "You look beautiful, let's get you zipped up."

Eager to see myself, I twirled around, sending the hem of the dress fluttering. The dress grew snug as Mom cinched up the zipper. She patted my back.

"Why don't you go check how it looks?"

I was already halfway out of the room before she could finish her sentence. Looking over my shoulder, I stuck out my tongue at her. Mom laughed, eyes twinkling.

Ten seconds later I was back at the mirror. Sometimes when you look at yourself, you find it's impossible to stop staring. This was one of those moments. Any dress from my old closet would've had enough material to make this one twice over. But there was no denying the quality surpassed the quantity.

The cut gave my bikini-tops a run for their money. A few minutes were necessary before my brain accepted the garment as normal. To all appearances, the top was on the verge of slipping off, but after a while I stopped tugging it up. The fit was snug. The bustline arced over the middle of my chest, before tapering downward, displaying a scandalous crease where my boobs pressed together. This was a look I could get used to.

Rarely did I have the chance to wear clothes which so blatantly flattered my physique. Normally, life consisted of blander clothes. Even if I wore the school uniform better than anyone else, it was still the same uniform. The current effect was overwhelming in the best possible way. Doing a slow turn, I admired the backside, seized by a worry--perhaps irrational--that any sudden moves would ruin my new outfit. Life without my new dress was an unimaginable horror.

The bottom hugged my body like spandex. Much to my satisfaction, my butt made a substantial curve from the side profile. The frills certainly didn't overstay their welcome either, trailing off before the mid-thigh. Perfect for showcasing my quads and calves, hardened from conditioning. Retrieving my phone, I snapped several pictures, already making plans to post them later. Warmth set my chest aglow. Had anyone ever looked this good? Unlikely.

Several Snapchats were in dire need of replies, so I put the dress through the poses, sending several photos of my best angles. How far could I push things? I snapped a final photo for Zeke--my recent Homecoming date--letting a scandalous amount of cleavage linger in the frame. Funny how adjusting the camera angle a few inches could make someone's night. I snickered evilly. Zeke would salivate when he saw the photo. Oops.

Next time out on the town with Sarah and friends, I would give this outfit a formal debut. Maybe tomorrow? Of course, I hadn't hung out with anyone outside of practice since my birthday... The realization doused some of my buzz. The last two weeks had turned me into a shut in. I would have to put an end to that eventually, this was no way to live.

"Jessie, come downstairs, it's nearly time for dinner." Mom's voice planted a spike of adrenaline in my chest. That couldn't be true. There was no way I had been posing for an hour. Frantically, I consulted my phone. Somehow time had sped up while I was in my room. It was totally unfair. Mr. Lunder was due over in a few minutes, yuck. I fretted over my dress once more--worried I might have somehow wrinkled it--but there was no need to worry, the folds were immaculate.

I slunk downstairs with an admirably small amount of grumbling, "I still don't get why I have to be a part of this." Mom knew how much I wanted to avoid Mr. Lunder, but she didn't seem to care. Even the dress couldn't stop me feeling like I'd somehow been betrayed.

Mom pursed her lips in disapproval, she appeared to have won her battle in the kitchen. "You know what I don't get? How you can complain while wearing such a beautiful dress. I cook your food, I buy you that nice dress, and I don't ask much in return. Is eating dinner with us so hard?" There was a brief pause, as if for an explanation. She threw her hands up. "Your entitlement surprises me sometimes, Jessie, I remember how young you are."

She spoke the way someone might to a foolish child. A troublemaker who was too stupid to do as they were told. There was no point making the night worse by arguing with mom, but if she thought I would apologize, she was mistaken. The dress definitely deserved a thank you, but I didn't feel like it anymore. I crossed my arms and looked away, ignoring her. "Whatever you say." I choked out.

Mom shook her head and left to go fuss with the table. Muttering something a lot like 'stubborn' before passing out of earshot.

The aroma wafting from the dining room encouraged me to follow my nose, and my stomach concurred, but Mom was in there, so I sat on the couch instead. My fingers scrolled aimlessly through my feed, eventually landing on an impressive freekick goal, a Premier League highlight from earlier in the day.

Even staring at my phone, my peripheral vision afforded me an unimpeded view down my dress. The extra exposed skin felt alien. The effect would eventually wear off, but the dress needed some getting used to. I felt like shivering. Had the room always been so cold?

PING.

Only a last-minute catch saved me from bobbling my phone to the floor. Silent only a moment ago, my heart thumped with life. Adrenaline flushed to my extremities. Across the room, Mom's head looked up. The doorbell had rung. Mr. Lunder was here.

"That must be him. Jessie, can you get the door for me?" Mom nagged. Annoyingly, she had already preoccupied herself with another task, robbing me of a chance to disagree.

No, I couldn't get the door. That was silly. Why did I need to do it? Long seconds trickled by. Despite sitting, my muscles were tense, ready to spring, but where? There was nowhere to go except the door. I stood up, carefully smoothing the wrinkles from my outfit. Each step was deliberate. I weighed the benefits of every greeting... Hey. Hello. Hi.

Chill from the doorknob seeped into my hand. Without heels, the stairs could be taken three at a time. Ten seconds later, and I would be in my room, door locked. Agreeing to dinner had been an insane act of generosity, I could still back out. Mom would be immensely disappointed. As irritated as I was, I couldn't let that happen, not right now. The best thing to do was suffer the meal then slip away early. Mom knew how to talk, so there would be plenty of opportunities.

A firm knock came from outside. There was frosted glass on the door. If I stood here too long things would get awkward. When I opened the door, the greeting I had prepared froze in my throat.

Mr. Lunder loomed in the doorway, blocking the view anything beyond. His face had haunted my shadows for two weeks, but I remembered new details now, ones I'd never realized I'd forgotten. Light gleamed off his balding pate. Around the middle, a polo fought bravely against his gut. A pair of unapologetically grubby sandals supported hairy legs. Fucking sandals. I had started getting ready two hours ago.

Our eyes met for the briefest of moments, and I tasted something in the back of my throat. The images of our last encounter flickered behind his eyes. He blinked, and swooped over the threshold, drawing too close, until we were sharing space.

"Jessie, how good to see you. Step into the light so I can see you better." Mr. Lunder grasped my bare shoulders and thrust me under the light. He leered down gleefully, inspecting me. This was the type of behavior I had learned to endure in our interactions. "Look at you, Jessie, when did you get all grown up?"

He didn't pause long enough for an answer, instead turning me side to side. "My daughter wasn't half as pretty at your age." Mr. Lunder smirked at his own charm. Meanwhile, I found myself on the business end of a paternal shoulder squeeze.

"Uh, thanks," I mumbled. In present company, it was impossible not to be conscious of the dress. Under the right circumstances, being noticed felt nice. At the moment, I felt like I was introducing myself to a grizzly bear after accidentally strapping a pair of steaks to my tits. The presence of Mr. Lunder's hands forced me to take an awkward half-step back. My traitorous heels nearly sent me tumbling. Unlike soccer cleats, heels were not an extension of my body.

Mr. Lunder swept down, before I recovered. Too late, his destination became clear. Whiskers scraped my face as his kiss found its mark on my cheek. Hot fire erupted across my face as I processed what had happened.

A rumbling chuckle emanated as Mr. Lunder slapped his gut. "Ah, to be young again. Life goes by too quick, Jessica. When you're old, you have to learn to enjoy the little things. Seeing a young woman like you keeps life fresh for an old fart like me," he said self-satisfyingly. Under his affable grip, his elephantine weight gave 'captive audience' fresh meaning. He needed to shut up and let go of me.

"Eek!" I exclaimed, as pain stung my flesh. Mr. Lunder retreated his hand from the site of my pinched buttocks. He observed me sardonically--unperturbed by my watery-eyed outrage--like a teacher who had cold-called a distracted pupil.

"The key to being a good dinner guest, is to at least pretend to listen." Mr. Lunder waggled his finger in my face, then laughed obnoxiously. "Come now, let's not leave your mother alone with all the good food."

With his girth blocking any exits, I let myself be herded into the dining room. When I thought he wasn't looking, I angrily massaged my pinched skin. There would be hell to pay if he wrinkled my dress.

The aroma of dinner embraced me like a warm bath, causing my stomach to rumble at an undignified volume. I rarely ate so late. Food normally took precedence over everything after soccer practice. To my relief, the grumble went unremarked upon.

"Jennifer, you've always known how to make a man feel special." Mr. Lunder brushed past me, and Mom had just enough time to arrange her features into a smile before she was pulled into a close embrace.

Rather than listen to their horrible conversion, I searched for the furthest chair. Over the past few hours, Mom had transformed herself into a culinary prodigy. The spread was beyond the scope of anything I had seen her create. Steaks beckoned with savory juices. Next to the potatoes and greens, several wine bottles sparkled richly.

There were two chairs on one side of the table, and one chair on the other. The simplest thing to do would be to take the single chair, guaranteeing maximum space from Mr. Lunder. The only downside would be having to look across at his grotesque features. Mom, however, preempted my decision.

"Let's get you seated, Gregory." Mom tittered as she pulled out the lone chair. She beckoned Mr. Lunder towards it, "You're sure I can't get you anything?"

The room mutually observed the empty chair. "After all the work you've done, I won't let you stay on your feet a moment longer." Mr. Lunder all but steered Mom, depositing her into the lone chair. For her part, Mom laughed as though receiving an unexpected honor. With a carefree toss of glossy hair, she settled into her chair, sighing as though sinking into a nice bath. She looked diminutive with Mr. Lunder behind her. Slight tension melted from her shoulders melted as he withdrew.

With the single chair gone, the remaining two chairs loomed large. The gap between seats was acceptable for a couple, or a conversation with a close friend, but in present company it was unthinkable.

A shadow fell over me as Mr. Lunder tromped around the table. He pulled a chair out, gesturing me seated in an excessive display of etiquette. I sat, not returning his smug smile. Being seated only magnified the sensation of being dwarfed. Knots spread uninvited across my shoulders.