Pictures of Pictures

Pictures of Pictures

By Sabrina G. Langton

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Author's Note: Hi, something a little different, something a little heartwarming for the holidays. Heartwarming? Yeah I don't even know what that means. Ha, Hope YOU like it.

***

I don't know what I was expecting. It was all new to me but I think that's what I liked most about it.

For years I always came to the same hotel. It was beautiful and inexpensive and it had great views of the Atlantic. Sometimes all I needed was a view, a glass of something red, and music low but above the din of the background.

Wait.

You know what... when I think about it, all I needed were a pair of stockings. Mmm, that's all, forget about the view and the wine, oh and the music, and give me a pair of pantyhose, sheer, of course, the shinier the better. Just sliding up my smooth legs, caressing my thighs. New, used, or even with a run. A tiny run, one you wouldn't necessarily notice, of course. One that I probably caused myself with my bracelet.

I was easy when it came to hose. I loved them all, especially nude, or 'my' leg color, but I found myself getting into colors too. I had so many pairs of cyan, red, navy, even yellow, I had an outfit that went with every single one of them. I had friends who only wore black, they would tell me black was the sexiest color, and I would argue it wasn't a color at all, where nude was a light beige, grey was a dark white, and white, well was white.

"Sabrina, that's not a color either."

"It is, if there is a crayon with that name then it's a color, who is going to argue with Crayola." But then the whole black thing popped up again, of course, there was a black crayon. You know now that I think about it, maybe gray was my favorite crayon. I had four pairs of gray heels and even a pair of sneakers. Yeah, gray was okay.

"Sabrina, I do not wear sneakers with my stockings, that's crazy. If I have time to put on pantyhose, then I have time to wear heels." The ladies liked to argue with me, they thought I was too flippant, too much into everything that they weren't.

"I guess you are prancing around with flip-flops too." They would laugh, I felt I was so different from them, plus I didn't know how to prance.

I can remember asking "How about support stockings, is that a thing? Would any of you wear those?"

"Sabrina, we are not discussing this anymore."

And that was it. They went back to their coffee. Well, THEY were the older girls, most of them were married, most of them had on black stockings. Some of them didn't even shave, hence the black, and sometimes a different pair of beige underneath.

Oh, I should bring up the fact that when I asked these questions we were all at Pat's house. Pat was a guy that liked girls who wore stockings. He had a nice house, a big front and backyard, and so much parking. His wife, Georgia, sadly died a couple of years before and this was how he spent his Saturdays. When I visited and the ladies got tired of my questions, he let me thumb through his photo albums, see pictures of him, his kids, and various children and pets. He said he had no pictures of the wife, she was the photographer. He told me at the funeral they had two pictures up during the service, one was her wedding picture, the other from the seventh grade.

I took pictures of those two I kept them on my phone.

Before I left my apartment I took pictures of me in my outfit. I had on nude pantyhose under my long pink dress, with my nude heels and cyan bag. I was full of color, especially since I was new here, I didn't really know the protocol. I have been coming for, mmm, lets me see, maybe, six, seven, eight months? I was known as the one who made fresh coffee and asked all the questions. I could throw together a salad too if someone got a little peckish.

"I went to Berkley's Pharmacy on my way home yesterday, they had support stockings in black."

"Sabrina, are we still talking about this? Do you have circulation issues?" They all laughed, they tried to giggle, but it was definitely a laugh.

"No, well, I don't think so. I was just thinking that I would like to be pregnant." There, I finally said it. It got all quiet.

They gave me that look that they saved for Pat when he dressed and put on his wife's old stockings. He didn't try too hard. For him it really WAS about the stockings, he wore any color he found, he wore sandals or slides. He never, ever answered any of my questions with the ladies around.

"Sabrina, I hope you know that you can't get pregnant. No matter how much you try." One said. They all laughed again.

"If she doesn't know, then that would explain everything. Then we would know she definitely is crazy." Said another. They laughed a little louder. Someone even rubbed my flat belly.

"No, no I just want to make believe." And I shrugged, I felt a little sad, they weren't taking me seriously. Some of them made believe they were women. Me? I took it a little more seriously than them. I always shaved, I wanted my legs to look better than theirs. I couldn't really tell them that I had given this pregnancy venture a lot of thought already. I had bought maternity clothes, lower heels, and even a big bag with ducks on it to carry future diapers. I had another bag full of vitamins, supplements and lotions. I just wanted to know if I had to wear support stockings, I wanted to know if anyone would notice the difference. The ladies went back to their coffee. Them and Pat went back to talking about the shows they were streaming and the neighbors they didn't like.

"Sabrina! More coffee."

After I poured, I let them talk, I went back to Pat's photos. I went into the other room, his little red porch, I did this every week. You could hear the music better and I could look out the window at his large back garden. I was drinking a tiny glass of wine, it was too late for coffee. I loved looking at the pictures of the children, he had two sons and three daughters. Some of the pictures were of some of the daughters getting ready to have babies. It was nice, I loved how they sat, how they put their hands on their bellies, how they pressed their lower back. You know, I think I could do all three of those poses. They didn't look that complicated at all. I took pictures of pictures with my phone. I was thinking, I would practice tonight and tomorrow, I might even practice all month.

Pat was suddenly behind me, his fingers in my long blonde hair. I turned, and he was smiling. "That's Amy she has three kids. They live in Seattle I never see them."

"Aww, she's so cute. How old are your grandchildren?"

"Well, Amy's kids are two, six, and eight. I have fourteen altogether. My son Jessie is the only one without children."

"Mmm."

"He lives four blocks away and has no kids, my luck right?"

I smiled up at him. He told me that every time I sat here, every time I gazed at his albums. I knew interesting things about Jessie, Amy, and the rest of his kids. He never talked to the ladies about his family, only me. I was the only one that left the big kitchen or giant tent in the backyard. I was the only one who ever ventured into the red porch.

Pat was light gray and in his mid-seventies, I always thought it was so great that he had me and the other crossdressers visit his home and garden. Some of the ladies had lost their partners too. Some of them were older than Pat, some even brought their husbands or wives with them. Pat had parties, BBQ's and everyone was invited, I thought it was nice, I loved to be introduced to people I have only heard stories about, seen in pictures. I loved getting compliments on my nails, hair, or my legs, the ladies never said anything nice about me ever. Sometimes they told me I didn't match or my lashes were too long, they said they were trying to help.

My partner, well wife, was no help. She decided she didn't want to be married anymore. I never told Pat or the others, I didn't want any sympathy, I just wanted somewhere to go on a Saturday. I wanted to be with people, outside, and wear a dress like the others. I didn't think I could tell anyone about my past anyway.

"You should invite Jessie next time when everyone is over, it will be fun. I'm sure he would love a party."

Pat made a face like he ate some bad fish, "Mmm, maybe."

"I can keep him company if you want, I can ask him all sorts of questions."

"Ha, ya know he would love that. Jessie loves games, museums, he's always reading and he loves all kinds of information. He is some sort of analyst."

He rubbed my shoulders as he told me memories about a couple more of the pictures. He only talked to me in the glow of the Tiffany lamp on his dark red porch, he never talked to me in front of the other ladies. They told me I was too young, I made him nervous. I was twenty-seven, I didn't feel that young, but it made me feel good to think that's the way others viewed me. Pat told me he could care less how old I was, he just didn't want to make the other CDs jealous. Sometimes when we were at the table together he would wink at me, he knew the older ladies were crazier than ME.

When I got ready to leave one of the ladies stopped me. She motioned me with her fingers, she whispered in my ear. "Make sure you do some stretches, get that circulation going in your legs." And she laughed, she shook her head, she made me get her another coffee before I left.

*

So, I was at the hotel.

Before I got distracted I was telling you that I always came here. Right here, right in the neighborhood. I usually got the same room on the second floor, but today I picked one out on the first. There were no elevators, I couldn't be walking up any flights in my condition.

I used to come here when I was married. I told my wife I was working over the weekend, I told her I had to travel, told her I would be busy. It was fine for the first ten visits or so and then she wanted to know why I had to pay for a hotel. She wanted to know why I wasn't getting paid for overtime, she wanted to know who I was seeing. She especially wanted to know why I was only six blocks away.

I couldn't tell her. I lied, it was easier. When we divorced last year I felt this little trip to the hotel was the cause of it, but it wasn't. I wish it were, it would be easier on my mind, it would help me sleep better.

So on Friday, a beautiful May afternoon, in another beautiful tight pink dress and cyan bag, right after a quick trip to the Pharmacy again, I walked into room 101. I was right next to the front desk, right near the parking lot, just a quick walk to the restaurant. When I called and reserved the room the day before, I told the staff my sister was going to be staying there, she was flying in for the weekend, she was twenty weeks pregnant. I walked in unpregnant, I had to get prepared.

The bell boy took my luggage, my makeup case, my belly. I carried the shopping bag from Berkeley's with all the things I knew I would need for the next two and a half days.

I was thinking I didn't have to even stay in a hotel anymore, I had a perfectly good apartment. I had the most luscious feminine bedroom, four poster bed, gray vanity, and two gorgeous antique mirrors, but I wanted to get out, and get away for the weekend. Show off my glow and baby bump to people. What good was being pregnant if you couldn't mingle?

Briiiiingggg...

"Hello, Miss Langton?"

"Yes?"

"Will you be coming into the dining room for dinner?"

"Of course, thank you."

"Six o'clock see you then."

It was nice, they treated me a little different already. They didn't know I didn't have the belly on yet. I came out of the shower, perfectly smooth and smelling like Loreal. I put on my breastplate, I put on my silicone belly. The girl online that sold it, informed me it was from fifteen to twenty-five weeks. I decided I was twenty, I think I was almost halfway through my pregnancy, I was looking forward to giving birth.

I put lotion all over myself, then I put on my maternity support pantyhose, in nude. I realized it had extra room for my belly. I would have to tell the ladies, maybe I would buy them all a pair in black, they were all so much bigger than me. It was tight, it felt so comforting, I was going to wear them when I needed some support when I felt a little lonely. I didn't even need to wear panties with them, but I did wear pads in case of a little leakage, just in case. I read about that in Redbook. Ooh, I also had a bunch of magazines to thumb through, I was taking this pregnancy thing very seriously.

For visiting the restaurant tonight I had the perfect dress, it had thin horizontal blue stripes next to white horizontal stripes. The hem came just to my knees and my belly looked spectacular, the tightness of the dress made it protrude out perfectly. I couldn't wait to head to reception and smile. Smile with my new dark pink lipstick, my new whitened teeth. I had on my streaked blonde wig, no curls, just long and straight. An impending mommy doesn't have time to curl her hair, she barely had the strength to wash it, it was hard carrying a baby, eating for two. It was hard doing all this without a husband, a nanny, a mother-in-law, or anyone to help. I would manage though, I was always fine.

I had two-inch heeled booties, they were brown, they were so much smaller than the heels I would normally wear. I loved a good six-inch pump, an eight-inch platform, I could maneuver in any height. I sat and did my makeup at the little desk in room 101. I brought my makeup mirror, my makeup case. When I was married I had a box, a cardboard box, now I upgraded. I had a sturdy pink travel case filled with an Ulta eyeshadow palette, I had a Kylie matte lip kit, I had so many blush brushes, pencils, and sprays, I was ready for a weekend away. I was ready to be pampered. I decided against my false lashes but I put on lots of mascara and my nail tips, they were white, they weren't that long, they went great with my dress. They looked incredible while I held my belly. I wondered if anyone would notice I wasn't wearing a wedding ring. I was going to smile big, and shrug if anyone asked, I was going to be cuter than usual.

I did the poses that I captured on my phone from Pat's photo album. I took about a hundred and eleven pictures, that should be enough. I then practiced my walk, I couldn't be too sexy, I had to walk slower, had to hold my back and/or stomach, I had to do this correctly. I considered this trip to the hotel, practice. Practice for when I visited Pat and the ladies. They would be disappointed if I didn't look real enough. The friends that came to Pat's parties told me I looked like their daughters and nieces and that made me blush, but I couldn't wait to see what happened when the ladies said I looked like a real expectant mother. I would be prepared, I wouldn't make a big deal out of it, I would still pour the coffee if asked.

Once out of 101 and in the dining hall, I was in my element. I walked slowly, I lay my hands on top of my belly, smiling my big pink smile, I stretched my legs. I told everyone who asked I was twenty weeks, and I didn't know what I was having. It was going to be a surprise. The hotel brought me dinner, they brought me sparkling apple juice, they were happy a young expecting woman was in their hotel. I asked if I could come every weekend, I was having fun with all the pampering. Of course, they said sure. They said I could stay in the same room, they would set up the shower with a chair, they would send in a masseuse, they would even have someone do my hair and makeup.

"Oh thank you, but no need, my hair and makeup are easy. It relaxes me." I smiled, I showed my white teeth, I didn't want them to discover anything.

So, I made believe I flew in, and for the next four weeks I went and stayed in the same room, I practiced, I even got just a little bigger with some air in the belly. People in the hotel were constantly rubbing and helping me out of chairs, I loved it. I hated saying goodbye on the final Sunday. I told them once I delivered I would visit and show off my new child, I had little tears in my eyes, everyone was so kind to me.

"Maybe I'll have the baby shower here, I so love the restaurant." I made a crooked smile, "I just have to discuss it with the relatives."

*

So, let's see, I missed visiting Pat's for the last five weeks. I wanted to go, just to show my face, my colored stockings, but I knew I couldn't, I had to wait. This Saturday was one of his big parties, he hired a bartender, he hired a chef, he was expecting a ton of people. I would show up with my twenty-six-week baby bump, I would definitely be matching.

*

I was going to wear my favorite crayon color, gray. I had a stretchy tight gray dress that landed right above my knees, showing off my nude shiny support pantyhose and then my four-inch nude pumps. I wanted to go a little glam for the party. My belly looked great, a little big but great. I even wore padding on my hips and ass, I upped the size of my breasts to a double D, I wanted to look curvier, rounder.

I had on my long blonde wig again, this time I curled the bottom, made little ringlets. I then put on my false lashes, lots of mascara, wore copper shadow over my eyes. I wanted to look a little mysterious. My lips were taupe, matching my longer-than-usual nails, matching my toes hiding in the pumps. I wore my new Chanel perfume. I posed before I left my apartment, I took another sixty-two shots.

I stopped in the Pharmacy before I went to Pat's. I bought antacids, then some fruit juice and candy just in case there were kids, I even bought some coloring books and crayons, I was a prepared mother-to-be. I was a practicing mommy. I walked up and down every aisle making so much noise in my noisy heels, I made sure I smiled at the sales girls, the boy with the broom and the older cashier with a sneer.

"Uhh, thank you, come again."

"Oh I will, you will be seeing me soon." And I smiled, I flicked my long hair over my shoulder. I made sure everyone saw the pregnant woman in her new gray dress. I felt my practice really paid off, a couple held the door for me when I made my way to the parking lot.

"Thank you."

*

I was late, the block was crowded, there weren't too many parking spots, I had to walk kind of far.

"Hi, need help." A tall man, dark eyes was holding a shopping bag, took mine.

"Thank you." I smiled, my tongue making an appearance on my top lip. He walked and talked with me the whole way on the path to the front gate.

Once at the door, he smiled again, "I'm Jesse, Pat's son. Are you one of the girls that visit on Saturdays?"

I looked at him, he was probably a little older than me, he seemed pretty nice. I knew it was him when I saw him, as I waited in my car. Did he know about the parties? Did he know about the girls? If I was one of them then how could I be wearing these support stockings?

"Not really, I sometimes work for your father." And I smiled again, I wasn't even lying.

"Sabrina, Jesse, great come on in." I gave Pat a bottle of wine and the cookies I made, the juice and candy I bought, and we headed out to the yard. He couldn't take his eyes off of my pregnant belly, of course, he didn't ask any questions.

The ladies were all huddled together under the tent, out of the sun, away from the guests. When I came to the backyard parties Pat paid me. I made drinks, I cleaned up the paper plates, I poured the coffee. Sometimes I came early and decorated, I took out the leaf blower, I ironed all the tablecloths. I always wanted the yard, the bathroom, and the kitchen perfect for everyone. I wanted them all to have a great time, I wanted them all to be happy they were visiting Pat and the 'girl' who served coffee.

The last thing I did before the guests arrived was organize the larger table, where all the ladies always sat. They always got real mugs never paper. I put the pictures of Pat's wife, one from the wedding and the other from seventh grade. I always invited her to sit with the girls, Pat said she would have so much fun. I always cleaned the frames with Windex. I did the same thing today, but I didn't want to bother the ladies, I didn't want to start asking any questions or beg for compliments. I snuck around them, I looked down at the ground hoping they didn't recognize my hair color.