Twin Set

"I will."

* * *

Carrie and Amy were waiting for me when I returned home with my trophy for winning the ladies' championship. They sat enthralled as I took them through the match, and Carrie was overcome with emotion when I presented her with the trophy. "It's yours," I said. "If it hadn't been for that text you sent me, Valarie Trueting's parents would be having breakfast with the coach at State tomorrow. Too bad mom and dad are out of town."

"You didn't tell her that, did you?" Carrie asked.

"No, I just thanked her and took her card."

She looked over at Amy. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm right with you." She eyed me critically. "It will require some rather drastic makeup, and you'll have to raid your mother's closet, but with a lot of help from us, I'm sure she can pull it off."

"Pull what off?" I asked.

"Having breakfast with the coach as mom."

"Are you out of your minds? You want me to make pretend I'm my mother?"

"It'll work," Amy said. "We can make you look a lot older, and all you have to do is listen to her, and tell her what a great girl Carrie is."

"You two are batshit crazy!"

"Come on, you've gone this far. All we're asking you to do is have a free breakfast."

"No way."

"Please!" Carrie begged.

"Absolutely, totally, one hundred percent no!"

* * *

That was the night I lost my virginity. Amy stayed over, we hit our parents' liquor cabinet, and after one too many, I agreed to play along. I insisted that Carrie call the coach instead of me to confirm the appointment at her hotel. That night, Carrie put one of her nighties on me, and Amy crept into my bedroom after Carrie went to sleep. We made slow, sweet love all night long.

The next morning, after I shaved my legs in a bubble bath and Carrie styled my hair again, it was time to turn me into my mother. The girls debated back and forth before the decision was made: pearls and a twin set. Carrie stoked up my makeup including a bold red lipstick and zapped my hair with a lot of hairspray, and then it was time to get me dressed. First, an all-in-one body briefer which was liberally padded at my breasts and hips. They insisted that I put on pantyhose, which felt totally weird, although I have to admit that if I hadn't been totally tapped out by my night with Amy, I would probably have had another orgasm from the sheer sensation of silky nylon against my smooth skin. A lacy slip was next, then a pretty embroidered top from my mother's closet, one of her skirts, and a cardigan sweater which matched my top. Carrie topped it off with a triple strand of pearls from my mother's jewelry box, and some clip on pearl earrings which she wore. A wristwatch, and fake wedding and engagement rings which Carrie came up with somewhere, and I was almost ready. Her final inspiration was a pair of tortoise shell glasses which made me look years older. A heavy spritz of some very expensive cologne, and it was time to learn how to walk in my mother's high heels.

The girls spent a lot of time getting me to practice a slightly deeper voice, and coaching me on what not to say. "Keep it short and sweet," Carrie admonished me. "You're there to listen and come home with a scholarship for your lovely daughter." I stuck out my tongue at her and headed out the door.

I arrived at the Hyatt a few minutes late, and after a quick trip to the ladies room to assure myself that I looked like a thirty-five year old woman, I walked into the coffee shop, where the coach was seated by herself at a window table. I approached her hesitantly and introduced myself as Carrie's mother.

"Thank you so much for coming," the coach said with enthusiasm. "I must say, there's no doubt about the fact that Carrie is your daughter. The family resemblance is uncanny!"

"That's what everybody says," I smiled.

"Is your husband going to join us?"

"No, I'm afraid he's in Europe on business."

"I see. Well, we won't let that stop us." A waitress appeared, and after we both ordered coffee and croissants, the coach got down to business. "I was very impressed by your daughter yesterday. She has one of the purest tennis strokes I've ever seen."

"Thank you. She and her twin brother have been playing since they were five." I regretted the words as soon as I said them.

"She has a twin brother? Maybe I should tip off the men's coach."

"He's not as competitive as Carrie," I improvised.

"Well, your daughter certainly knows how to compete. Yesterday she pulled off a comeback, against a physically superior opponent, the likes of which I've never seen."

I had to smile. "I'll tell her you said that."

"Tell me," the coach said after our breakfasts were served, "has your daughter given any thought to where she might want to go to college?"

"When I told her I was meeting with you today, she asked me to tell you that State is her first choice, and she wants to play tennis for you."

The rest of the conversation was a sales pitch by the coach, complete with brochures and pamphlets which she loaded me down with, until the very end. "I do have one concern," the coach said. "Your daughter's grades are frankly on the low side of our range, and ordinarily we would not be able to offer admission and a scholarship to her. However, her athletic achievements are obviously an important consideration. It will all come down to her SAT's."

"I think she's already taken them," I said hesitantly.

"Yes, and unfortunately her scores were rather low. However, she'll have a chance to improve them when the test is offered again next month. I strongly encourage you to have her prepare for them. If she does her best, and gets her scores up, we would love to have her at State."

* * *

When I got back home, I took off my glasses, kicked off my heels and flexed my aching toes in my nylons as I recounted my meeting with the coach. The girls listened intently, and when I was done, I figured my days as a girl were behind me. Until Carrie asked the question I dreaded: "Brother dear, will you take my SAT's for me?"