Lucian Ch. 05

He felt as if suspended in un-reality.

His entire body was a hovering cloud of heat. He turned and got the thong, stepping into it and pulling it up over his smooth legs. The string crept between his buttocks, and the tiny front panel hugged his package, stretching tightly over it.

Looking up into the mirror he saw the clear outline of his penis in the thin material. Stepping closer he cupped it with his hand. It felt hot and definitely firm. He squeezed it, and closed his eyes when a throbbing thrill started spreading.

Moving his fingers away he clearly saw the shape of his cock's glans, pressing into the thong. A damp spot made the gill-like underside even more visible, like a pale, silvery fish gasping to get up and out of the net it was caught in.

A small fish it was, but very visible.

Lucian slid a hand inside the thong's front to tuck down the telltale erection. He only succeeded in making it thrust forward.

Shrugging he sat down and picked up one of the nylon stockings, rolling it carefully, bit by bit into a ball, like he'd often seen his mother do. He pushed his pointed toes into the little hollow he'd created, stretching the nylon carefully over his foot and ankle, then over his calf and knee until its wide elastic band snapped closed over his thigh. His hands ran softly up his leg to straighten out folds and creases.

Closing his eyes he felt his hands caress his soft skin through the slick material. A puff of stale air escaped his lungs - he'd obviously held it all the while.

Picking up the second stocking he repeated the procedure.

As he stood straight he sensed the tight massage the sheer fabric gave his flexing flesh. It felt disturbingly good. But then his eye fell on the clock and he saw he had to hurry.

Walking over to his vanity desk he noticed a small selection of items that were set aside, with a scrap of paper propped against it. He read the elegant handwriting: 'Soit un ange, chéri,' it said. 'Be an angel.'

Amongst the items he found a pale foundation, sky blue and pink eye shadow, baby pink rouge and lipstick in soft salmon shades. Even the mascara had a pinkish hue. Reminding how Mamselle had insisted to do his face in similar colors at his last Beauty class, he presumed this wasn't a coincidence.

He pulled a wide, stretchy band down his brow and up again to keep the hair out of his face.

Five minutes later he removed the headband, allowing the shining curls to drop down on his brow, framing and shading his painted eyes.

His sigh was almost one of relief - the creature in the mirror had stopped being him. It looked impossibly young, yet decadently world-wise; at once innocent and depraved, perversely angelic and totally alien.

Lucian swallowed and let his pink tongue travel across glossed lips.

He understood Parker's intentions, he thought. He also knew they wouldn't work.

Once more it amazed him how both she and Dr. Kurtz had this naïve notion of his mother loving him - or even caring about him. They might hope that changing him into this pseudo innocent, corrupted angel would pull at the strings of her motherly heart - and likewise at the strings of her purse, but he knew they were mistaken for the simple reason that she had no heart.

Lucian turned to the bed and picked up the thin white dress.

Pulling it over his head he found out it was tight and stretchy - and long. A cocoon it was. Flimsy enough to be almost sheer, it forced him to take small steps as it closed around his knees on its way down to his upper calves.

Its tightness felt as if a hundred strong but soft hands caressed him, sending shivers up his spine.

He slipped into the silver heels, wriggling his toes to make them fit. The new, steep angle of his feet tugged at his calves and made him push out his buttocks to find a proper balance.

He reached for the white gloves, made of the same stretchy material as the dress. After worming his fingers in, he closed the pearly button at the heel of each hand. The gloves were another tight sensation, along with the fake bra, the dress and the stockings.

The tightness made him feel self conscious, but it also gave a curious sense of safety.

He walked over to the tall dressing mirror, holding the small hat. The light came from behind - drowning details while enclosing him in a soft, bright outline.

'No shit,' he thought, turning left and right, wondering at the mirage. He was very aware of the suggestive tightening around his chest and hips. The fingers of his free hand touched the little cup between his clavicles, trying to still the hammering throb that rose from his ribcage.

Then he saw the bulge.

It was an insistent presence right at the center of his crotch pushing out the flimsy fabric of the narrow dress - like a finger; like the digit of a finger.

And around it spread a small, wet spot.

"Fuck."

The clock's big hand crawled to the top; it was almost nine. He couldn't really walk over to Parker's office with that, could he? Cupping the protrusion with his gloved hand only made it stiffen more.

What was going on?

It had been ages since his penis had been hard. Even when he masturbated of late, all it did was swell into a soft, pink ball of goo-spewing flesh.

He pulled up the tube of the dress and saw that the thong's damp panel was totally transparent, showing off his erection.

Lucian shuffled over to the toilet, holding up the hem of the dress with his chin. He pulled the thong down his thighs and took the slender stem of his penis between a gloved thumb and finger - starting to jerk.

Closing his eyes he felt the pressure of time, but none of the usual urges of an impending orgasm. His pink, glossy lips murmured a string of silent curses, but nothing happened.

Why did the fucking, useless thing suddenly have to be hard? Why now? He'd dressed and made up his face before, and the thing never bothered him this way.

What was different today?

Suddenly the hard stem pulsed in his grip, and as it did the pink head gushed a clear, slimy liquid that ran down his gloved fingers and on to his inner thigh where it soaked the elastic band of his stocking.

At once the penis shrank and was soft again - almost retreating into his body.

Lucian shuddered, although there had hardly been any sensation. He grabbed a tissue and cleaned up the mess on his scrotum, stocking and glove. Then he removed the soaked thong and pulled the dress down over his bare crotch.

The wet spot was still there.

He smelled at the thong; there was no scent at all.

After pinning the silly white hat to his curls and donning the earrings and bracelets, he picked up the silver clutch. Covering his crotch with it he minced out of the room - holding his breath.

His heart beat like mad.

***

The satin glove muffled the sound of his knuckles as they knocked on Parker's door, but the shaking of his wrist made his bracelets jingle loudly.

He waited for an answer.

Walking the corridors on pumps, hindered by the awkward dress hadn't been easy. The heels sounded uncomfortably loud on the marble, but thank God the hallways had been deserted. Classes must have kept most students and teachers away.

He rapped on the door again; this time he didn't wait before opening it.

There were four people inside: the headmistress herself, the two lawyers he'd seen, and a woman who sat with her back to the door. She still wore the wide-brimmed hat, but had opened her fur coat. Hanging over the back of her chair it showed its lovely silk lining.

His arrival stopped their conversation.

Parker looked up and smiled. The two lawyers turned his way, but their faces held a frowning expression.

Seeing the reaction of the others, the woman also turned in her chair. Of course it was his mother, but her face held a blank expression of puzzlement.

She didn't recognize him.

"Lucian," Parker said, rising from behind her desk. Her suit was a dark blue and as severely cut as ever.

"Of course I don't have to introduce your mother," she went on, her smile vintage Norton's, "but there are these two gentlemen who are her legal consultants - Mr. Kargosian..." - she waved to the elder lawyer in a striped suit - "and Mr. Bronstein-Cohen, please meet Lucian Gaines."

The younger man just nodded.

His pale-olive face contrasted sharply with his black, slick hair and heavy eyebrows. He was attractive in a cold and arrogant way.

But Lucian hardly looked at them. His attention was focused on his mother's face.

The moment Parker mentioned his name it turned even whiter than its natural paleness. As she rose from her chair, her blood red lips stammered something that must have been his name, while her narrow hand fluttered over the front of her silk blouse.

"Hi mom," he said, forcing the standard Norton smile through his tumultuous embarrassment. At last he understood why they trained that smile so much - it was a marvelous buoy to cling to at moments like this.

'Mom' he'd said, knowing she hated the word.

"Glad you finally had time for me," he went on in the low, breathy voice Ms. Fontaine taught them. He cranked up the Smile a few more Watts, very aware of the tight bra and the stockings and the heels - and their threat to throttle his confidence at any moment.

He pressed the clutch into his treacherous crotch, squeezing it with white-knuckled fingers.

"Lucian," his mother said, finally able to add sound to her miming lips. "Oh God, Lucian, honey, is that really you?"

He'd never seen her like this - stammering as she searched for words. It made his growing confidence overwhelm his old timidity. Looking down on her from his enhanced height he felt the Smile grow.

He also noticed her clothes.

The mink coat was glorious. He remembered her getting it on her birthday, what, ten years ago. He also remembered the white silk blouse, almost feeling it on his own skin again. The dark jacket and skirt were Chanel, and at least five years old.

That stopped him.

His mother didn't do old. It was one of the things his parents always fought about - she had to have the newest from Paris, Milan and London. A year old was ancient in her eyes, an affront and a humiliation. Not being on top of the latest fashion was unthinkable. He'd often wondered why his father always went along.

And now she wore old things; even the hat was ancient.

He searched for her genuine pearl necklace and the priceless platinum Rolex on her wrist - the silver bracelets, the diamonds on her fingers - but they weren't there.

His gaze returned to her face.

He had been right: his dressing up must have been entirely Parker's idea; his appearance was an absolute surprise for her. Maybe she hadn't even expected him at this meeting at all.

"Please sit with us, Lucian dear," Parker said, indicating a chair next to his mother's.

Careful not to stumble he minced past his mother, bent his captive knees and slid his ass on the chair. Then he moved his legs together, one knee into the hollow of the other inside the stretchy skirt, feeling the alien but arousing friction of nylon on nylon. He straightened wrinkles and folds with his daintily gloved hand.

Finally he turned towards his mother and smiled.

Her face looked flushed and her eyes were restless. Yes, he thought, I was never meant to be at this meeting. And to his surprise he added: good for you, Parker. Even more surprising he reached out and laid his left hand on his mother's, nodding as he smiled and squinted his eyes.

The woman pulled away her hand in a reflex.

Ignoring her, Lucian turned around to observe the lawyers. Shit, he thought, there must be a lot at stake to employ two sharks like these. No wonder there was nothing left for new couture.

"Ms. Parker," the older lawyer said, after clearing his throat. "Let's agree that everyone's time, yours and ours, is precious..."

Lucian felt a chuckle rise. Precious indeed, he thought, but I bet the old greedy bastard wouldn't mind a few extra billable hours to be wasted.

The man looked and sounded distinguished with his deep voice and silver hair. The other one, with his slick black manes and olive skin, looked... attractive, Lucian thought - surprised by the word he found. Dark eyes and a full, sensual mouth - was that it? And anyway, why would he find the man attractive?

An uneasy feeling crept into Lucian.

He was way too experienced to not smell a bully from far away - the self-evident arrogance, the shameless eyes, a subdued sneer eternally present at the corners of his mouth.

He tore away his eyes.

"Of course, Mr. Kargosian," Parker said, smiling wider than ever. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but I really think it is important for Lucian to be present when we discuss his future."

Her eyes were on his mother when she said that. She didn't respond or even react.

So it was true: his presence was Parker's doing.

The younger lawyer opened his briefcase with a click. He took out a set of papers, handing copies to Parker, to his mother and his colleague. He kept one to himself; there was no copy for Lucian.

"Ms. Parker, Mrs. Gaines," he started with a deep and mellifluous voice, "as you can see in paragraph four, right at the bottom of page one..."

"Mister Bronstein," Parker interrupted, "I see you don't have a copy for Mister Gaines?"

Her smile must be infuriating, Lucian thought. For a second he saw the easy arrogance falter on the younger lawyer's face. Then it returned as annoyance, poorly covered by a smile.

"As we didn't know you would invite ehm... Mister Gaines, Ms. Parker, we couldn't properly prepare," he said, his contempt palpable.

"Ah well," the headmistress said, shrugging and smiling sweetly. "I guess that's easily repaired."

She reached for old Kargosian's copy, pulled it from his grip and handed it to Lucian. She chuckled.

"I bet you know it by heart anyway, Mr. Kargosian."

Kargosian took it in stride, never losing his benevolent expression. Young Bronstein still had a lot to learn from his boss, Lucian thought, looking down on the piece of paper.

The firm's logo at the top was impressive.

The indicated paragraph contained a lot of legalese, but its content was clear, even to him. If his mother wanted his father to pay for his tuition, Lucian would have to accept one of four schools his father had chosen. The list was obvious - he knew two of the schools; one he'd left the year before, bruised and humiliated.

He looked up and realized that Bronstein had just read the same paragraph out loud. Parker stared at him.

"What do you think, Lucian?" she asked.

She knew what he thought, and so did his mother. This whole meeting was a fake, whether he was attending or not. Why did his mother even come here with these two clowns? She'd selected this school for him, hadn't she? She had dragged him here, had him injected and brainwashed without ever asking him. She'd done everything to ensure his permanent unsuitability for any school other than Norton's.

Parker made him dress up, so he would virtually scream that unsuitability by only walking in.

He stared at his silly little gloves and didn't respond.

Then a hand covered his.

It was pale and narrow; its fingernails were long and wore a dark red polish. The hand was his mother's. He looked up, meeting her eyes. The rim of her hat shaded them.

Her blood red lips moved.

"I'm sorry," she said.

The hand was cool and light as a feather, hardly touching his. But it seemed to radiate warmth into his skin. He shivered; his smile faltering.

Cringing inside, he looked out from his painted fortress - still vulnerable, so damn vulnerable. Maybe his lips trembled; maybe his lashes fluttered, but his mind was elsewhere, hovering over these scheming, insincere people in this godforsaken office in this godforsaken school.

His mother was lying; her hooded eyes couldn't hide it.

"So sorry," she repeated, almost squeezing his hand.

"You must believe me," she went on. "I fought for you, for us, but he is so cruel. He's an animal. Why do you think I left him?"

Observing her as if from a backbench he wondered how many exclamation marks she'd use if she had to write her words down.

"As you know," she went on, "he has Anton - the one he makes you call uncle."

The one I call Adolf, he thought. The one she used to get him imprisoned here. He could see how he might help his father to leave her penniless. But did he?

He tried to read her face: the dramatic eyebrows, her almost-moist eyes.

Then she went on explaining how her life had turned into hell. "Hèllll," she called it. How his father had accused her of cheating. "Cheeetinnnggg? Me?" she yelled, suddenly all but ladylike. "And that from himmmm!"

She went on summing up the endless number of affairs his father supposedly had. It might have been the only time she spoke the truth. But he knew she'd matched him one for one. He might have been small and quiet and easily overlooked, but that was exactly the reason why they didn't hide their obnoxious affairs from him.

Looking away as she ranted, he met Parker's eyes. They rolled behind her glasses, and he knew she was learning fast about the sweetness of his loving mother.

Old Kardosian cleared his throat.

"Ehm... Mrs. Gaines," he said, reaching over to his colleague to catch his copy of the papers they'd brought. Waving with it he said:

"Shall we go on?"

His mother fell silent, wringing her hands in what she must believe to be an expression of despair. Then she nodded - a nervous smile touching her lips.

Kardosian read on.

"If, er... your son decides not to choose one of the suggested colleges, Mr. Gaines will stop paying for tuition by the end of this school year. He also stipulates that the eh... boy won't be welcome at what used to be his house - the townhouse Mr. Gaines has the sole title to and expects to sell before the year is over."

He looked up and over the small reading glasses he'd donned.

"Of course," he said to Parker, "Mrs. Gaines will go on fighting Mr. Gaines on this subject, but to be quite honest, we don't estimate her chances very high. The... boy's being past eighteen won't give her much leverage either"

'To be quite honest,' Lucian repeated in his thoughts.

He had a hard time believing any of what the man said. Imagining his mother as poor and bereft was like imagining a peacock without tail feathers - or a leopard without its spots.

He chuckled at the thought, seeing his mother lift her eyebrows at that. Her hand had gone.

"So after June there is nowhere your son can go but here," Parker said.

The silence spoke for itself.

"Lucian?" the headmistress went on, turning to him. "Please rise and undress, sweetie."

He sat straight, his eyes wide - not able to move. Had the woman gone mad? Undressing in public might be common at Norton's. Since joining he had been stripping for classes, for gym, two, three times a day.

But in front of his mother and these two strangers?

"Please, honey," Parker went on. "It's important. Trust me."

Trust her again.

Why would he trust the bitch? She'd lied to him from day one, ridiculing him when he complained about abuse and rape. And most of all: she'd done it with his mother's blessing.

He slowly shook his head 'no,' feeling the soft curls of his hair hit the sides of his face.

"Trust me on this, Lucian dear, please," Parker repeated, nodding and frowning.

As he sat in silence, many things went through his mind; things from the past and the present. Only very few were pleasant. There were images of the doctor and her practice - the syringes and the blue latex gloves. There were also images of a drunken Dr. Kurtz, shedding tears over her son's suicide. There was Drew, of course, the photo shoot and the anonymous Halloween rapists.