FOY inc -6- Adorable (Patreon)

I managed the conditioner; by the time I had it worked down to the ends, I figured it was time to start rinsing it out. My hair had a lot of volume and this took some time. It had an odd feeling of luxury to it; odd because I didn’t feel as if I had done this before and luxury because, well, having this much hair was clearly a nuisance and isn’t putting up with something you could avoid almost the definition of luxury? Or perversion, I thought with a giggle.

Finally, I shut the water off—it was getting cold. I stepped out of the shower and used several towels, getting myself dry, taking especial care around my piercings. I had belly button, ear, and tongue piercings—the last I could ignore while bathing though, being the goof that I am, I did lick the towel to see if it had a taste.

But I also had a piercing in my genital area. I hadn’t seen it but I knew it was there and avoided rubbing or prodding it, I guess because I felt really weird about having it there. I sure wanted to investigate the area but I found some unlikely measure of self-control I didn’t think I had and refrained. Party pooper, I accused myself. Nyahh!

Then I wrapped one big towel around me, under my arms and hair and over my tits which served well in holding it up. “Good for something besides just good-looking, huh?” I said to them and giggled. I wobbled my shoulders side to side and admired the harmonic motion, testing to be sure the towel really would stay in place.

But I still had to use more towels to soak up water from my hair. After three, the hair was still wet but at least it wasn’t dripping anymore. I needed some help getting my hair dry. Wearing a fourth towel as a snood (how did I know that word?), I went to the door of the bathroom and called out. “Gordy?” Gordy? Why was I calling him Gordy? I snickered, knowing why.

I heard a peculiar clickety-clack from some other room. Other than my hair, I was reasonably dry and covered from armpit to thighs by the big towel, so I followed the sound into what might have been an extra bedroom at one time. Gordon—not Gordy! Phoooey!—was sitting in front of a screen and clacking away.

A computer. Well, he’d said he was an investigator. It was sort of a relief to realize that I knew what a computer was. I had so many holes in my memory, you might be able to hide a whole digital revolution inside one.

The more I watched him work, concentrating intensely, the more Gordon shifted back to being Gordy to me. Could I make him pay attention to me like that? Maybe if I went over and sat in his lap…?

But I didn’t want to interrupt so I just stood there for a bit, waiting. He looked sort of funny, kind of hunched over the screen like his desk was too small for him—like a berserker in a wizard’s laboratory. Huh? That was an odd thought and I tried to pursue it but it didn’t seem to go anywhere real. As if.

Maybe I giggled or made some other noise when I moved to the side to see if anything on the screen made sense to me, but he turned around and saw me. “Amy!” he said. “You look adorable!”

That derailed me for a bit with a storm of giggles. For a moment, I felt wonderfully happy, though I couldn’t have said why. I know I was grinning so big it almost hurt my face. Was I happy that Gordy thought me adorable? That he called me Amy? Was I going to keep calling him Gordy, even to myself? If I’m so adorable when does he start adoring me?

Gordon stood and turned to me, taking my hands. I stood on tiptoe, turning my face up to him. Why? So he could kiss me, apparently. It was just another peck on the lips but it left me feeling giddy and unable to think. What was happening to me?

He tried to tell me something but I wasn’t really listening. “I dusted your clothes off as well as I could, then put them in the dryer on air-dry to shake out any more sand. I’ve been doing some checking on the internet, looking for any boating accidents in the area.”

I stared at his lips moving and didn’t hear a thing. He had a bit of a beard showing, dark hairs around his mouth, cheeks, chin and throat. I’d felt the brush of them when he kissed me, it gave me prickly chills. “You’re beautiful,” I said.

He laughed, blushing. I made Gordy blush! I giggled with the baffling pleasure of that.

“You said that before, but you’re the beautiful one. Girls are beautiful, men are generally called handsome.” He still held my hands, towering over me, smiling, amused but maybe a bit puzzled.

He wasn’t the only one baffled by what was going on. “I’m a girl,” I said. The wonder of it, the mystery, how was it that I had become a girl? Why couldn’t I remember?

He laughed again. “There’s no doubt about it,” he agreed, glancing at my chest.

“You’re a man,” I said. I tried to say it low in my throat, like a sexy growl. Why did I want to do that? It didn’t work anyway, my voice came out in a coo, a purr. Sexy, though. I felt my nipples crinkle up under the two layers of towel.

Oh, God! I realized that I was trying to seduce Gordy! And it seemed to be working! I could see a bulge inside his jeans! It excited me! Enormously, if the adverb isn’t redundant.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Gordy asked softly.

I nodded, unable to speak. I’m doing this. Am I doing this? I’m doing this. I wanted to laugh, cry, scream, giggle, run, hide, go find a bed and spread myself out on it like a—like a slut! If I had three girlfriends, like in the joke, they would all know which one I was!

Gordy was talking again. I couldn’t hear him. Something about boats. I stood on tiptoe again, turning my face up toward him. “Kiss me,” I said, in that cooing, purring voice I had discovered.

He did and I was so happy. I wanted more than a peck on the lips. I wanted all I could get. I opened my mouth and tried to put my tongue in his. He pushed me away, the rat.

“Amy,” he said seriously. “We shouldn’t be doing this. You’ve had a horrible experience and—and I’ve helped you—and I know you’re grateful….”

I whimpered. I tried the puppy dog eyes on him. He still had hold of my hands or I know I would have dropped the towel covering me, pulling it away so I could press my breasts against his. I twisted my hands in his but I couldn’t pull away, a strangely delicious feeling. I felt hot, something like melting butter at the center of my being.

The man was made of stone, even if part of him appeared to have a tremendous woody. “I know you didn’t come in here for this,” he was saying.

“Oo-oh!” Ice water, his words hit me like a cold shower. I shook my head.

“Amy,” he said. “What did you come in for? You wanted something?”

I could think. I could think of something besides what Gordy had in his pants. “Um,” I said. My voice sounded very small. “A dryer? For my hair?”

He laughed. Was it funny? I laughed too, a relieved giggle. We weren’t going to have sex and one part of me was disappointed but the another part was grateful. Maybe the part that had thought I was a guy?

He rubbed the top of his own head where his hair was very short, almost a crewcut. “I don’t use a hair dryer, but I think there’s one under the sink in the master bath.”

“I didn’t see one,” I said.

He let go of my hands and headed out of the room. “I’m pretty sure there’s one in the house,” he said. “Maybe in the other bathroom.”

I followed him down the hall to the other bathroom where a quick search did not turn up a hair dryer. I felt like a child, following a grown-up.

Back in the hall, we headed toward the master bedroom and bath. My feet were bare on the wood floor, making little slapping noises.

“Did you look under the sink?” he asked.

“No,” I said. It hadn’t occurred to me to look.

“Why not?” he asked.

“I didn’t know it was there,” I said.

Gordon thought that was funny so I giggled, too. He reached down and opened the door in the cabinet under the sing and pulled out a black gun-like thing. “Hair dryer,” he said. He plugged it in and showed me how to use it. “You dry your hair and I’ll go back to doing some research on boat wrecks.”

He handed me the hair dryer, picked up my used towels, and left. I watched him go, feeling a bit sad and letdown. Things had been exciting for a while then, and now I just have pounds and pounds of wet hair to deal with.

I took off the snood, got the biggest comb I could find and tried to deal with all of that hair. But the hair dryer was so big and heavy, I needed both hands to hold it which left no hands for using the comb or manipulating the hair.

I ended up laying the hair dryer on the counter and just using the comb to let air into my hair as I combed it and moved back and forth in front of the dryer. And all the while I worked, straight wet hair slowly turned into wavy, curly dry hair. “I’m not going to do this again,” I said more than once.