WunderGirl 10 by Shauna Rousseau (Patreon)

~ Day 44 ~

* * * * *

Samantha

* * * * *

I’m showing Gemma some makeup tricks with the more sophisticated makeup that Momma bought for me to use to teach her. Momma’s just started letting her use the basics and we’ve have been doing these special lessons in the mornings, before I get ready to go to work…and sometimes in the evenings, after work. I’m having a good time doing it, and as weird as it is, I’m bonding better with Gemma, doing this, than I ever bonded with Chad, doing…well…anything.

As I show her a particularly tricky blending effect with my eyeshadow, I can tell that there’s something on her mind. She’s kind of fidgety…and not really paying attention, at all, to what I’m showing her. Finally, I ask in exasperation, “OK, Gemma. What’s up with you? You’re all distracted. Maybe we should do this some other time? I really need to finish getting ready, anyway. Momma will be wanting to leave, soon…and what I’ve been tryingto show you is way too sophisticated for work.”

She turns completely silent, then sighs…and then suddenly starts pleading with me. “Ummm…it’s just…. Well, promise you won’t tell Momma or Daddy?”

I start to shake my head but change my mind. She has me curious, now. “OK. I promise. What’s wrong?” I give her an encouraging nod.

I was a little worried about the promise, she wanted. I figured it was something…sensitive. Like she had been sneaking Momma’s makeup, or something. I had no real idea what to expect, but I’m completely floored when she finally does give me the explanation. “I may…have stolen your…old products…and…ummm…I may have been using them. Your gum, too.” She tears up. “I’ve gotten so used to that tingling…and now I’m out. I…I…I don’t want it to stop!” She fully starts crying and wails. “What do I do?”

I sit there quietly, totally stunned. I have no idea what tosay. I can’t believe she did that! I should have held off on that promise!

Then she continues to beg. “Can you get me some more? Without Momma knowing? Pleeeeease!!!”

I sigh and chastise her. “Gemma! How could you do that?” I stop myself and think a minute…just to gather my thoughts. “I mean I know what that tingling’s like, and I know much you can get to…kind of…get hooked…on the feeling. But it’s just you wanting it…it’s not addictive, or anything…. At least, that’s what Vicki told me, at work. And I believe her. You just think you’re craving it.”

I shake my head. I really should tell Momma…but I promised. How was I supposed to know that she did something this foolish! I don’t really know what the stuff will do in an uncontrolled environment… I mean, I’m being closely monitored, and all. For all I know, she really is addicted…! I sigh. “I’ll see what I can find out. But I can’t make any promises. Now, you better let me finish getting ready…and think about how to do this. You really put us both in an awkward and very stupid situation!”

She looks crestfallen…and starts to say something…but just bites her lip, in shame. She shakes her head…and I can tell she’s trying not to cry. Before I can say anything else, she qhickly leaves me alone to finish up.

I sit there and ponder as I quickly finish my makeup and then put my hair into a high, tight ponytail. I hated chastising her like that. But it’s bad enough that I’m stuck in this whole convoluted situation. Now, she may be in a similar situation…. At least she’s not bound by any contracts….

I sigh, still not sure what to do! I shake my head and go down for breakfast.

* * * * *

Melissa

* * * * *

I look at Samantha, as she demurely…but nervously…sits across from me. She came in asking for a private meeting…and implored me not to say anything to Julia, about whatever it is that she wants to talk to me about.

I can’t say that I’m not intrigued to learn what this about, so I promised. But…well…no one ever accused me of keeping my promises. That’s only a given, if they serve my purpose…. Now, threats…disguisedas promises…those I’ll always keep.

Anyway, when she tells me what her sister has done, I nearly laugh. I literally have to bite my tongue. But I can’t keep a knowing grin off my face. The dumb little twit has seemingly fully sensitized herself. And is now looking for more “tingle.” Finally, I can’t stop myself from laughing. She thinks she’s addicted! This is so…delicious!

I settle myself down and tap a fingernail on my desk…I need to think this through. We don’t have any actual data on her—I just know that she’s thirteen. We’ve never had anyone that young, in the trial…and it would have been nice to have her base values. But I can live without those, given the amount of data that we do have…on other subjects. In a way, this could serve as a study…of the actual distribution…into the uncontrolled environment. Of course, I still have control over what she will be getting…but this could still prove…useful.

Finally, I look back at Samantha and shrug. “Well, she has herself in quite the pickle, doesn’t she? But tell me again…we’re not telling your Momma…why?”

She shrugs and blushes. “I promised. At least, until I could ask you…what her options are. She’s not really addicted…right?”

“Well, the first option is to not say anything…and just let her suffer, until she gets over it.” I smile, a little impishly. “No, there’s no physical addiction, so it wouldn’t harm her, in any way.” I shrug. “It would be a good lesson, maybe—but she would likely still try and get her hands on more product. The second option is to let your Momma know…and stillwithhold product from her. And let your Momma worry about controlling her access. That’s probably the ‘sensible’ thing to do.”

Samantha doesn’t seem convinced, by the look on her face…which is fine by me…so I forge on. “Then… I suppose, we could give her what she wants. The question is, do you still want to keep your Momma in the dark?” It should be interesting to see what she chooses…and if I can use that to my advantage.

She mulls it over for a minute, and shrugs. “You said there’s no harm, right? Are you sure? I mean, I know I’m using the stuff…but you all are monitoring me…and pulling blood, and stuff.”

I smile. This could turn out to be very useful, if I play it right. I shake my head and explain. “We only do that for documentation purposes—not because there’s a danger.”

She nods and muses. “I suppose…we could supply her with…whatever. I mean, eventually it’s going to come out…on the market, right? And…she can just buy what she needs, then? No one would have to know?”

I smirk. Bingo! I shrug. “What did you have in mind, exactly? Is she even using makeup, yet?”

She nods, and completely surprises me with her reply. “Momma has just started letting her. Just the basic stuff…like when I first started. Eyeliner, mascara, and some lip gloss. I’m teaching her how to actually use the full pallet, though.” It just goes to show how much of a girl, she really has become. How much of one she…is. What boy would do something like that with his sister?

“Well, if she’s not wearing it fulltime, it won’t do her much good, in terms of a meaningful ‘tingle.’” I slowly nod and ponder. “We can amp up some lip gloss, for her, but that won’t go far. I suppose we could fix up some special body care products for her, and she could use those…until you can convince your Momma to let her use a full pallet of makeup. Then, I can have Brea give your her some ‘free’ products, especially for Gemma. We do that on occasion, for employees’ kids. Of course, they would have the special ingredient in them, without you’re Momma knowing….”

I decide to get our little WunderGirl working on the marketing piece. Like I said, this could work out nicely, for me. “It will be up to you, to convince your Momma, though, to allow Gemma to use the products. But I will only supply enough amped up body care, for your sister, to last up to…say…four weeks. After that, if she’s not using a full pallet of makeup—and maybe some sort of augmented body mist—she’s going to be getting used to living without the ‘tingle.’ Fair enough?”

She nods, unsure of herself, but grins. “Thank you, Lissa. I’ll do what I can, to convince Momma.”

I send a note to Vicki to prepare the product. I also let her know that no one is to know about this, but Samantha.

Then I send Samantha on her way, as I think about how I can continue to use this whole thing, to my advantage. It has so much potential, I’m actually giddy!

~ Day 47 ~

* * * * *

Samantha

* * * * *

I nervously sit at my vanity and start my evening look. I pull the eyeliner pencil away from my eye and vehemently blow the air out of my lungs. I’m completely frustrated with this this whole situation…and have messed up…again! Forcing me to have to fix another small mistake. No one else would have noticed…but I knew it was there!

I’m not nervous about doing my makeup—I’m nervous about why I’m doing my makeup! And I keep messing up because of it. It’s like I’m doing it for the first time. Well…maybe it’s not thatbad…but…bad enough!

After my discussion with Lissa, about Gerome Ansel, Greta went right ahead and called Adam Ansel! It was too late—thank goodness—to set up anything for last weekend. But that grace period is now over…and I have a date with him…tonight. I shudder.

He’s supposed to pick me up in an hour…for dinner and a movie. I suppose that’s normal for a first “date.” I’m choosing to not think of it as a “date,” though…. It’s just a…. Oh…who am I kidding? He thinks of it as a “date.” It doesn’t matter what I think of it as!

Of course, Daddy thinks of it that way, too. He had a coronary when he found out. I mean, I think he literally did—his face was as red as my lipstick. He completely blew up! It didn’t matter that I didn’t ask for any of it! Momma had to come to my rescue—although, I can tell she’s not a hundred percent behind this, either. Thankfully! I’m not even onepercent behind it!

But just for fun…we ganged up on him again earlier. I needed something to distract myself from the whole thing…and somehow Momma picked up on…and played along. She winked at me, then poured it on thick about me behaving tonight—just to mess with his head. I don’t know how much it messed with his, but it all certainly is messing with mine. To be honest, the thought of the whole thing still makes me want to throw up! I have no desire to go out on a date with a hormone-laden boy, who will want…things.

I quickly stop thinking about that…and remember Daddy’s full reaction. I’m not sure what the full impetus was—maybe our messing with him—or maybe he’s finally coming to grips with me “being a girl”—which I’m sure, I’m…not. Well…I’m…pretty sure…. I mean…anyway, he gave me this blustering speech, with a crazy look in his eyes. “If you’re going to be a girl, then you have an eleven o’clock curfew! And I want to meet this boy that’s taking you out. We’ll need to have a ‘talk.’” Then he went on to say that this is only an exception—that I’m not allowed to really date…until I’m sixteen.

Momma just rolled her eyes and sent me up here to my room to get ready, while she talks to him. I was bawling and it took me ten minutes to get myself back under control. I don’t even know why I was crying, like that—I don’t want to go on the stupid “date,” so if this “talk” changes Gerome’s mind, then good!

What’s totally unfair is the eleven o’clock curfew! I used to have a midnight one…like just a few weeks ago…when I was just “Sam!” And Chad has had a one o’clock one, since he was sixteen…which I figured I would get, too.

I yank the eyeliner pencil from my eye before I mess up again…and silently scream out my frustration! I have noticed that I’m kind of moody lately. I don’t know why, though!

I try and relax my mind…as I just let my hands take over and…without thinking about it…just do the motions that have become ingrained in me, from the countless hours of practicing.

As my hands do their work, I let my mind wander. I think about the past week. I sigh. It was a strange mixture of what has become my new “normal” and what are new…“experiences.”

I got to model at an actual WG makeup photoshoot, which was pretty cool. Except, I’m still not sure how I feel about modeling girl’s makeup. I can’t deny that I…like wearing it, now. I feel totally naked without it…but…I know that’s just…weird! So, I know that I shouldn’t be proud of the fact…that I get to model it, either!

Then, Dharma and Joyce made me start Yoga and Pilates for flexibility, posture, and to strengthen my core. I’ve been sore all week! Dharma and Joyce are trying to convince me it will be worth it—and that it will get better. I can tell that I’m getting more flexible…I can actually place my hands flat on the floor, while standing flat-footed…with my knees straight. I could barely touch the floor, when we started. I just don’t know what all of that is supposed to mean….

And…speaking of sore…my breasts and nipples are better in terms of being…as sore. But…they’re like really…sensitive, now. Vicki told me that the hormone supplements in my products are some special ones that will somehow make me develop faster than normal—like with my hair and nail growth. But it still won’t happen overnight. I’m not sure what that means, but showering is a whole other sensation now. The water pulsing on my nipples and “breast area” seems to cause a similar “pulse” in my…groin area. I blush, as I think about how…nice…that feels! Sometimes…I don’t want to get out of the shower!

But the weirdest thing…. Vicki gave me new body glow, floral concentrate, and lotion after my “talk” with Lissa. Ever since then, I have these really strange feelings…kind of like the water in the shower…only stronger…when I see a cute guy. And boys keep staring at me. And don’t get me started about the dreams I’ve been having…about…boys….

It’s gross! Now, the ones about girls…is a horse of a different color! I look in the mirror and see that I’m beet-red! I shake my head…. I still can’t get the boys out of head my head, though…. Ewwwwww!That’s my story…!

I sigh and push those thoughts aside. I focus on how Vicki has told me that…besides my breasts…I’m also starting to show other development…namely, in my hips and thighs. She added that I’ll start putting on fat there…and acquiring nice shapely curves. She says that means that my clothes will start fitting…differently. Her exact words were that they will fit “better” and “like they’re intended,” which is “good for modeling.” Of course, she was talking about my girls’ clothes…. I know that shouldbother me. And, of course, I told everyone that it did…does. The thing is…I…well…I…like my girls’ clothes! I love how they feel…and…how…they make me…look…. But…that doesn’t make me…a girl! I’m sure of that! Well…prettysure…. Well…I think…I’m a…boy. No…I’m sure I am! That’s my story…!

I take a deep breath…and change my focus. Even though I’m “developing,” I still don’t have any body…or facial…hair. My skin is as soft, smooth, and hair-free as a newborn baby’s. I’ve been meaning to ask Vicki about that. I still need to. It should bother me more…since…I’m a…boy…. A boy…needs to be…hairy. I shudder at the thought…. Ewwwww!

I pull myself out of my reverie, as I perfectly finish my mascara...having unconsciously completed everything else…without mistake. Picture-perfect…as I should be…. As I expect myself to be! I take a deep breath and spritz on my perfume, then go to my closet and pick out my heels…the ones that go with the wonderfully soft black cashmere sweater and tight pink skirt that Momma helped me pick out…so that I would look “nice”…for my “date.” The pencil skirt is really tight…to keep hands out…. I shudder at the thought. It brings back memories of my…dreams…. I blush.

I shake my head and sigh, as I step into the black, patent-leather, four-inch stiletto heels and then slip the straps over my ankles. It doesn’t even register as strange…anymore…that I’m not at all uncomfortable, in them. As a matter of fact, I love the way I feel in them…like in the gloriously soft and luxurious girls’ clothes, that I have on. I confidently walk down the stairs…in the manner that has indelibly been drilled into every fiber of my being, over the last few weeks. I now default to walking like I’m modeling…on a catwalk. It makes me feel…sexy. I blush at that thought…and quickly squash it. I’m a boy!

I’m halfway down the stairs, when Momma catches me…and steers me right back up the stairs.

She admonishes me with a frown on her face. “Honey! You can’t be downstairs when Gerome gets here! Your Daddy is going to have to have his ‘talk,’ with him. Besides! You need to make him wait…just a little! That’s simply how it works…with girls and dates! Now, I wasn’t able to get your father to budge on your new curfew. Gerome might get some wiggle-room, depending on when the movie ends, but that’s the best you’ll get. Daughters…for better or worse…are treated differently than sons.”

I sigh. “Momma, this is all just crazy! Can’t you just tell Gerome I’m sick? On my period? Something? I don’t want to go out with him! I never agreed to this!”

She giggles and retorts in a knowing tone. “My, Sam! You’ve learned a trick, or two, from the ladies at work! But that won’t get you out of a date, Hon. And no! You really need to go through with this. Do it for yourself—not for your career…or mine. You’re going to be living…and going to school…as a girl. So, you need to learn to deal with boys. Most girls start learning this much earlier than you. Gemma is already further along…in this fact of life…than you. There are…expected…norms….”

I deeply sigh…again. “But I only will be pretendingto be a girl, until the trial is over. After that, I want to go back to being ‘normal..’” Well…that’s my story…! “And in the meantime, I can just tell everyone that I’m a lesbian!”

She shakes her head and says, “Even lesbians need to know how to deal with boys. You might like him, Hon. And…are you even sure what…‘normal’…is?”

I gag and spit. “Ewwww! Momma! And…yes… I’m sure! Well…I think…. Anyway! Momma!”

She giggles and says, “I didn’t mean it that way—I meant you might find a friend. He doesn’t have to be your boyfriend! And…if you need to talk….”

I pale as the doorbell rings…and cuts her off.

Momma warns, “Don’t come down until I call you. We’ll finish this talk…later!” She leaves me to go to the kitchen…where she can eavesdrop on the “talk” that will be going on downstairs.

* * * * *

Gerome

* * * * *

I get out of my car and nervously walk up to the door. I slowly reach out…and ring the bell…full of trepidation. I didn’t even know Dads made guys do this anymore! I mean, I know Dad twisted some arms at WunderGirl, to get me the date…with the Goddess…Samantha…. I couldn’t help but notice her on his shoot, that day...before I had to rush off to be on my own shoot. Sure, she was a little tomboyish, but Dad says, that he’s positive that will quickly be remedied. I guess he…made some “comments.”

I don’t really care…she’s beautiful! I mean…if she weremore of a girly-girl…she would be perfect! Dad wouldn’t be asking for her, by name, though…if he didn’t think she would ultimately meet that bar…. Anyway, it took some convincing…and begging…but he finally agreed to pull some strings…and get me a date. I have no idea how she feels about it…but if she’ll just give me a fair shot….

After what seems like an eternity, the door opens and Mr. Brinkley is standing there, looking at me. My heart is pounding! I’ve never met him, but I did see him at the car dealership…the other day…when Dad went to get my new car…and I drove it off the lot…while they finished up the…boring business part of the deal…. I never got to actually meet him…thank him…. It’s such a sweet car! Almost as sweet as his daughter!

He looks…pissed? Confused? Something…. I can’t put my finger on it, but it just makes me that much more nervous. I guess he doesn’t like the fact that Dad twisted arms…. Or…maybe Dad shafted him on the price of the car? I’m screwed!

He finally grumbles, “You must be Gerome. Come on in.”

I quickly reply as I follow him inside, “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Being polite can’t hurt, right?

He nods and stares at me.

I can’t help but squirm.

He shrugs. “So, I assume you’re happy with the car. We didn’t meet, the other day…so…tell me about yourself…and your intentions…with Sam…antha.”

I guess he’s not mad about the car! And, I’m pretty sure that he was about to call her…just “Sam.” I can’t help but wonder if that’s what she normally goes by? I know Dad hates nicknames. Maybe that’s why he’s hesitant to call her that?

I take deep breath and shrug. “Well, Sir…I absolutely love the car! Ummmm…I’m sixteen—going on seventeen. I’m getting into acting…you may have even seen some of my commercials? My latest aftershave one just started airing…” I swallow. “And my…intentions…for tonight…are just to take your daughter…to a nice dinner…and to a movie.”

He curtly nods and gives me a harsh stare…almost a glare. “Good on the car. On the other…you’re paying…?”

I almost laugh. That’s his concern? “Of course, Sir!” This whole thing is just weird! And he still seems…unsure of himself…maybe that’s not his real concern? If not…what is?

He barely nods, like he’s groping with where to go with the conversation, and states, “You’ll have…her home by eleven.”

I wince and then explain, “Well, Sir. The movie isn’t over until almost eleven-thirty. It’s almost three hours long. It would be a shame to miss the ending. Could I have her home by midnight?”

He gives me a long hard stare, suddenly looking kind of pissed again, and commands, “You bring her straight home, as soon as the movie is over. Do not go passed go and do not collect two hundred dollars. Understand?”

I blink. It’s a good thing I know how to play Monopoly—otherwise, I would have no idea what he’s talking about! I firmly nod. “Yes, Sir!”

I see Mrs. Brinkley come out of what I assume is the kitchen and go to the stairs. She calls up, “Samantha! Gerome is here!”

She then comes over and says, “Good evening, Gerome. It’s really nice to see you again. You two have fun tonight, OK? But not toomuch fun! I’ll know. Mothers always know!”

She winks at me, but she actually scares me more than hedoes!

At that moment, Samantha comes down the stairs looking like an angel! She has that distinctive walk that all models have and I’m already getting hard.

Thankfully, I’m able to control it, as she comes over and shyly stands there beside Julia.

“Wow! Samantha, you look great!” I grin. “Ready? We have reservations in thirty minutes, and I don’t want to have to speed to get there!”

I get the stink eye from Mr. Brinkley and I hurry to say, “I mean, I never speed. That’s my point!”

I grab her arm and lead her out to the car after her Mom gives her a kiss on the cheek. I can feel her Dad’s eyes burning into my back.

I open the car door for her. I’m not sure if that’s still a thing anymore, but this family seems to have old-fashioned expectations. I’m almost drunk with her perfume as she sits down in the seat and swivels her legs in. I close the door and shake my head to clear it. I’m as hard as I can ever remember being. She’s just so…sexy!

I rush over to my side to get in.

* * * * *

Julia

* * * * *

I hear that the “conversation” that Harry is having with Gerome is coming to an end. I don’t know if it’s because he still doesn’t really see Samantha as a girl—or if he’s just still not sure how to be that Dad, but he actually goes easy on him. Too easy! We’ll certainly have to work on that before Gemma’s ready to date!

I go to the stairs and let Samantha know it’s OK to come down, now…and then go over to give Gerome a subtle but very clear message to not mess with Samantha. He thinks that I can’t see that he’s getting hard, I’m sure—but he very clearly is.

I can tell from the veiled fear in his eyes that he got my message. So, I just smile sweetly at him. Let him chew on it. Samantha will learn the tricks, soon enough. I hate making her go out, to begin with…but it will be a good lesson for her. I doubt he will try anything with her…other than some “smooth moves”…and maybe a kiss…at the movie. It’s clear he picked out the longest one for that purpose. There’s no way he’s interested in thatmovie!

I smile as Samantha comes down and shyly sticks close to me. Gerome stumbles through being a gentleman, but I’ll give him credit for even trying. I sigh and give Samantha a kiss on the cheek…then watch them walk out to his car. I’m sure he can feel my eyes boring into his back, as I silently wish my son…no…daughter…a pleasant and uneventful date.

I’m happy to see that he opens the door for her…and that she gets in like she’s been taught. I know it wasn’t easy in that skirt and heels…especially with that car.

After he drives off, I look at Harry and explode. “What was that? Is that how you’re going to be with Gemma, too? We need to talk about giving ‘the talk,’ to a girl’s boyfriend. I hated it back when Daddy did it to mine, but I’m certainly thankful now!”

I stalk off…to the patio. I need to calm my nerves….

* * * * *

Samantha

* * * * *

I nervously sit in the car as Gerome drives us to the restaurant.

“I made reservations at Livingston’s.” He glances over at me. “I hope that’s OK. We eat there a lot and they have really good food, if you’ve never been.”

I shake my head. Livingston’s is way fancier than we ever go out to. “I’m sure it will be great, Gerome. You should know—I don’t know anything about dating. This is my first date. I’m actually surprised that my parents even agreed to it, but I know your Dad has sway and twisted some arms. I’m just not sure how I feel about that! No…I take that back…. I’m verysure how I feel about that!”

I figure maybe letting him know that I’m not comfortable will help set some boundaries.

He sighs. “I get it, Samantha. Or should I call you ‘Sam?’ It seems that’s what your Dad was about to call you….”

I just shrug and shake my head. “Either is fine. Your Daddycertainly prefers ‘Samantha.’ And I guess it’s what he wants that matters…right?”

He nervously laughs. “Yeah. He has a thing about shortening names. Anyway, Samantha, you don’t need to worry about the date. I get that I only got it because of my Dad—but I’m going to show you a good time. And hopefully convince you to want to go out with me. again!”

Fat chance of that! I fight to keep the grimace off of my face that wants to go along with the thought.

“We’ll see, Gerome.” I shrug. “I’m honestly not sure that I want to start dating, myself. Nothing against you—well, at least not yet…since I don’t really know you. Other than you don’t mind abusing your Dad’s power.” I take a deep breath. “And my schedule’s already pretty full…with all of this modeling stuff.”

He puts his hand on my knee and I fight hard not to jerk it away. “Just give me a chance, OK? I’m not a bad guy, Samantha—and I reallydo like you!” He gives me a nervous smile.

I look at him and shake my head. “How can you know that, Gerome? You don’t know me…any more than I know you.” I look down as he squirms in his seat…and nearly choke. O!M!G! He’s got a raging hard-on!

He smiles and I blush—he doesn’t need to know me to “like” me…in that way. I’ve never had the proper hormones to get that kind of feeling…or have that kind of reaction. But those funny feelings that I havebeen having…especially in my dreams…suddenly get stronger. I choke. I shouldn’t feel this away about other boys! I mean—if that’s what I am feeling. Whatever it is…it leaves me totally confused!

He suddenly gets all…fidgety as my feelings strengthen. He quickly hits the button to lower his window…and sticks his head out.

Thankfully, we’re almost to the restaurant. When we arrive a few minutes later, he pulls up to the valet, who opens the door for me and helps me out.

The valet then drives off to park the car, while we go into the restaurant. Gerome steps up and lets the Maître D know we have arrived for our reservation. He leads us to our table…and pulls out the chair for me! I’m momentarily at a loss as to what I’m supposed to do…but after a brief pause, I gather my wits and sweep my skirt to take my seat. He pushes my chair in and waits for Gerome to take his seat, before saying that Josephine will be our server.

I shake my head in marvel. “I’ve never had anyone do that before. It was…weird…! But kind of nice, too.”

I know there are a lot of women out there—from what I’ve heard—that don’t want to be treated this way. But I think I could get used to it!

Josephine comes right over to bring us our water and menus, and to take our drink orders. When she’s gone to get our drinks, I open the menu and take a sip of my water. I nearly choke when I see the prices!

Adam just says, “Order whatever you want, Samantha. Of course, I’m paying—and, yes, Dad’s the one actually footing the bill… I couldn’t afford this on my own—so, don’t get too used to it! At least until my movie contract goes through and I start making millions!” He guffaws.

I smile politely and look back at the menu. I really want to get a big steak and baked potato, but this is not that kind of restaurant—and Dharma would have a cow if I did anyway. She’s been harping on me to eat small meals and watch my figure. Especially since I’m adamant that I won’t start smoking to maintain my figure. I still can’t believe she’s pushing me to start!

Gerome prods, “See anything that looks good?”

I sigh and shrug. “Well, I really would like a steak, but….”

He smiles and points. “Then you should get the filet mignon! It’s to die for!”

I find it on the menu ….where he’s pointing…and actually do choke, this time. Fifty dollars! And with no sides—they’re extra! And like ten dollars, a piece…for the cheap ones!

I shake my head and start to say that I’ll just get a small salad, when Josephine comes back with our tea. She asks, “Would you like to order…or do you still need some time?”

Gerome just says, “Two filets, please. Samantha, how do you like yours? I’m a medium-rare sort of guy.”

I smile wanly at Josephine…and ask…more than state, “Rare-ish?”

She smiles and nods.

We tell her our sides—no, I don’t get the baked potato! I order the seasonal vegetables and a salad with vinaigrette on the side!

The meal is wonderful, and Gerome turns out to be kind of fun. Under other circumstances—like me being the “real” Samantha—I think we could be good friends. Except…then we wouldn’t be here in the first place. We never would have met…and he wouldn’t have been interested in me, even if we somehow had.

Gerome pays the substantial bill…after we have dessert…and we go outside, just as the valet brings his car around. Gerome opens the door for me, and then he goes around to give the valet his tip.

He gets in and looks like he’s contemplating opening all of the windows. I certainly hope he doesn’t! I mean it’s warm enough…but it would make a mess out of my hair! He seems to decide against it and shakes his head, then he takes off and drives us to the movie theater. He takes us to the fancy new one…with the reclining and rocking chairs…that will turn into little “love seats.” Our reserved seats are toward the back and he quickly raises the arm between us.

The movie is a long romance movie—a chick flick and I highly doubt that he’s interested in the movie, at all. I guess I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt that he thinks that I would be into it…and he didn’t just go for the longest one available.

Of course, I’m not really interested in it…any more than he probably is. That’s why it surprises me when I actually get into the plot…and start crying at some of the more emotional scenes. These would normally have never elicited that sort of reaction from me in the past.

And they don’t from Gerome. He’s reacting like I would have expected of myself. What it does elicit from him…is him putting his arm around my shoulder and pulling me towards him, as I sniffle and carefully blot my eyes with a tissue from my purse.

I know that this mascara is not waterproof, and I don’t want to look like a racoon, when we leave.

I’m caught off-guard by his move…and initially don’t resist…but purely out of surprise. But then he breathes in deeply…and suddenly becomes aroused. He starts nibbling on my ear and neck—and pawing at my breasts.

I gasp. We still have two hours left in the movie! I need to shut this down, right now!

I hiss at him. “Gerome! What are you doing?”

He just sort of purrs. “You smell so good! I’ll be good. Just one kiss?”

I struggle to push him back, without making a scene. The problem is, his musky scent is making me have my own funny feelings. My nipples are getting hard under my breast forms…and I feel really hot, all of a sudden.

It’s not like I suddenly have this desire to be with a boy…or Gerome, per se. It’s more like I have this desire to be with…someone. Anyone!

Gerome leans in to kiss me and I start to push him away…to resist his efforts…. But he evades my efforts and softly brushes my lips with his.

I gasp and…sort of melt. I know it’s wrong…to kiss another boy! I know I should be freaked out! I make another half-hearted attempt to push him away.

He just pulls me in harder…and presses his lips for firmly onto mine.

I moan…and find myself opening my lips…to his probing tongue. I wrap my hands behind his neck and pull his head closer to mine…and fully welcome that tongue in.

The next thing I know, the movie is over and the credits are playing. People are getting up to leave the theater. I blink. I don’t remember a thing about the plot. It’s all just a blurred memory of our dancing tongues, my pitter-pattering heart, and my gooey insides.

On the way out, I break myself away from him…and go into the girl’s room. I need to clear my head! I just kissed a boy! For…hours…! What the Hell? That’s just…gross! What’s worse…is…that I liked it! My insides melt again, just thinking about it! How can this be? This is a disaster! I shake my head hard…trying to rattle it back into reality. Or…what shouldbe reality!

I sigh and look in the mirror. Another girls come in with her face similarly smeared…her lipstick a mess…the same as mine. My mascara has smeared a little from my tears, but not too terribly. But my lips…. I shudder at the feelings the smeared lipstick invokes…when I think about what caused the…mess.

More girls come in, with similarly smeared makeup. Most of them don’t have the mixture of confusion, lust, and self-loathing disgust on them, on their faces, as I do. One girl…a couple of years older than me… seems to notice the confused look in my eyes…and my shaking hands…as I struggle to fix my mascara and lipstick. She smiles and asks, “First date? Don’t worry, Hon. It gets better…you’ll learn to control him.”

I shake my head and fight the tears that want to flood out.

On her way out , she adds, “Don’t let him see that he has you confused! That’ll just give him the idea that he has you where he wants you…and can manipulate you to do his bidding. Stay strong, girl!” And then she’s gone.

I sigh and pull myself together…as best I can…and go back out into the hallway.

Gerome is waiting for me, right outside the restroom. His lips are still smeared with my lipstick, but he doesn’t seem to care. We start walking to the exit…and he wants to hold my hand on the way to the car.

I don’t fight it. I’m still too confused…to put up much resistance. So, I let him…but I do keep a safe distance between us. It’s just enough to keep my head clear.

He has a goofy grin on face…almost clown-like with my red lipstick smeared all over his mouth. He keeps trying to pull me closer to him, but I keep my distance. He finally gives up when we get to the car. He opens my car door with a sigh.

I sit and swivel my legs in…happy to be in the car…until he kisses me when I’m captured in the seat. I welcome his tongue back into my mouth and moan. I finally push him away after a minute—not because I want to stop kissing…but precisely because I don’t.

I’m still completely confused. My heart is pounding…and my nipples are hard as rocks under my breast forms. Not a comfortable feeling, let me tell you! But I know I have to get home! And I have to get my head clear of these thoughts. I groan. My nipples are so hard, they feel like they’re going to pop! The pain knocks a little sense into me.

I gasp. “Gerome! I have to get home! My parents will kill me, if I’m late.”

To be honest, I don’t know if that’s a true statement…but it’s the best I have. It probably is right, though.

He sighs and slowly pulls himself away. He closes my door and goes around to the driver’s side and gets in. He starts the car, still with a goofy grin on his face, and wordlessly drives me home…like he’s in some sort of a stupor.

I don’t wait for him to get out…or open my door…when he pulls up to our house. I just quickly jump out…well…as quickly as I can in these clothes. And his little sports car doesn’t make it any easier. So, I quickly struggle out and slam the door. Then I hurry towards the house…before he can chase me.

He doesn’t even try to get out. But I guess my slamming the door wakes him from his trance. He calls out to me…just as I’m running up the steps. “Samantha! Can we go out again?”

I shake my head and run in the front door…and right into Momma’s arms. The weight of the evening hits me…and I collapse into a torrent of tears.

* * * * *

Gerome

* * * * *

I’ve been out on a lot of dates…with a lot of gorgeous girls. But Samantha has me bewitched! I can’t keep my eyes off her. And I can’t keep my urges under control. It gets worse every time I get a whiff of her heavenly scent…it’s like the aroma is turning me on. Literally!

I barely make it into the restaurant, without giving in to the desire…to just stop and kiss her…on the spot. At least, with the table between us, the overwhelming desire lessens. But it doesn’t completely go away. It’s just more manageable.

I force myself to focus on trying to settle Samantha’s obvious dating concerns. And on showing her that I’m not a bad guy. I mean…I’m not! I’ve just never had…such overwhelming…erotic desires. She’s so hot…it hurts! Literally!

We make it through dinner…without incident. She’s just so cute…wanting a steak! But then I have to really fight myself from eating herfor my second dessert…on the drive to the movie theater! After we finally get there…with me sticking my head out the window, the whole way…we go in and to the perfect little spot that I reserved for us…and we’re sitting there…together…so close…to one another. Her scent overwhelms me.

I can’t help myself.

I try.

I really do!

I mean, sure I had every intention…all along…of trying to sneak at least one kiss. And my ploy of bringing her to a long chick-flick is working—too well. She starts crying at the “emotional” scenes…as predicted…and I pull her into a hug “to comfort her”…as planned. But that’s when I get a deep breath of that heavenly perfume of hers…mixed with her angelic body aroma…

Like I said, at that point…I literally can’t help myself.

I start nibbling on her neck and ear. I rub her breasts and want her to rub my aching hard-on.

She hisses for me to stop.

I can’t though.

And I can tell she really wants me to keep on…deep down. And…finally…she just gives in.

After the first kiss…it’s all I can do to remember we’re in the movie theater. We kiss intensely…and passionately…until the movie is over.

I’ve never been this hard in my life…and it aches. I’m near panting…. I have to get her someplace after…the movie…and get some release!

On our way out, I’m considering where we should go.

That’s when she breaks free from me to go into the girl’s room. When she finally comes back out…after at least ten minutes…my head has cleared a little. She’s fixed her makeup and once again looks like an agnel. She reluctantly lets me take her hand…but keeps as far a distance from me…as she can, without breaking my hold.

I want to kiss her so badly! But…I also want…more…now that she’s once again with me. I get her into the car and steal another kiss.

I can tell she wants to keep on, but she pushes me back and makes it very clear that she has to get home.

I start to argue with her, but the fresh air clears my head…a little…and I remember her Mom’s warning. It all somehow cuts through the fog in my brain…that I do have to get her home.

I force myself to get into the driver’s seat and take off…as her perfume assaults me in the enclosed car, so I concentrate as much as I can on my driving—with the window down to keep my head clear of her intoxicating scent.

As soon as I pull into her driveway, she jumps out and runs into the house—without a word.

I try to get her to commit to another date, but she’s gone.

I would be pissed, but I really need to get somewhere…fast…and give myself some relief first! I’m about to die! Talk about blue balls!

* * * * *

~ The End of WunderGirl ~

To Be Continued in WunderBoy!

* * * * *