Becoming Sweet Girls Page 11

  Makeup dotted Riley’s face, sweeping black lines of eyeliner accentuating the roundness and fullness of her eyes. Krystal had spent twenty minutes on her eyes alone, selecting the perfect shade of eye shadow to compliment the natural blue of Riley’s eyes and then carefully teasing her eyelashes out to their full, incredibly long length. A light coat of blush smoothed out her cheeks, turning the natural pink of her skin just a shade darker and making the post-sex flush more clearly defined. Their neighbor had done a wonderful job on her make-up, topping it all off with a crimson lipstick that made the new girl feel more sexy than she ever had in her life, man or woman.

  “Well…” Riley began, and had to look down at the short black dress her friend had lent to her, unsure of how to continue. Silence reigned in the room for a few moments, during which Allan had time to inspect the strange visitor in his living room. His eyes trailed across the familiar hair color and eye-color and lingered on the dress he must have seen in the bundle of clothes that Krystal had rushed past him, carrying them up to Russ after he’d mysteriously shouted for her from the bathroom. Allan had probably been wondering what they were getting up to up there, and was only now finding out. It was just that the obvious conclusion didn’t make a lick of sense to anyone.

  Riley watched as his gears turned, figuring that Allan’s brain was trying to put two and two together, but the eventual suspicion that arrived in his eyes—that he was looking at Russ, somehow in a different form from when he’d gone upstairs a little over an hour ago—was one that didn’t quite compute for him. He was stuck between a scenario that his mind told him was logical and the knowledge that there was no way it could be possible.

  “How…” he began. Allan’s mouth fell open wide, trailing off as his eyes darted between Riley and Krystal. Neither of them moved, just staring and waiting for his final conclusion. Riley worried the fabric of her dress between her fingers, wondering what exactly she’d do if he freaked out and kicked her out of the apartment.

  “This isn’t possib…” he began again, but once more stopped and shook his head.

  Finally, Krystal could stand it no longer. She sighed and gestured at Riley.

  “We can all see what you’re thinking, Allan. You’re not wrong. Yes, it’s crazy. And it doesn’t matter that it’s crazy, because apparently it happened.”

  “Why don’t you say it first, since it’s so obviously crazy,” Allan replied, his voice dripping with disbelief.

  “Fine.” Krystal shrugged. “Russ had a… a magic bath, I guess? That’s what we think, anyway. And now, Russ is… well, Russ is Riley now.”

  She watched as the usually practical and skeptical man opened and closed his mouth for a few moments, searching for a way to respond.

  “…You’re shitting me,” Allan finally said, a bit of a desperate tone in his voice. Riley shook her head and offered him a weak smile, feeling unusually self-conscious with the tightness of the unfamiliar clothes clinging to her new form.

  “Nope!” Krystal said with forced cheer, shrugging her shoulders again. Everything was quiet for a few more moments while Allan struggled to process this new information. Riley couldn’t really blame him—her own mind was still racing with confusion.

  “Anyway… Riley wants to uh. Celebrate? Mark the occasion?”

  She looked at the new girl for confirmation, and Riley nodded, helpfully adding, “Have lots of sex,” to the end of Krystal’s statement. The bedroom had been her first taste of what sex was like as a girl, and she absolutely wanted more. Their neighbor looked delighted at the addition.

  “So! We’re going clubbing so Riley can have a great first night as a girl, and we wanted to know if you’d come with us!”

  Clubbing was something they had done together all the time. The trio was well known at local clubs and bars for exactly how much mischief they could get up to when they decided they were going to have a fun night. Riley, for her part, was hoping that Allan would come along. She was feeling unusually vulnerable at the moment; not fragile, per se, but more open and wary of venturing outside than usual. It was a foreign feeling for her, and she was hoping that the presence of her familiar friend would calm her nerves a bit.

  “Shouldn’t we figure out… what to do?” Allan asked in a low voice, his gaze locked on Riley. She frowned and met his eyes, prompting him to quickly turn away. There was a hint of red to his cheeks.

  “No? I mean. Not yet,” Krystal answered. “We talked about it and she’s pretty confused, so I think a night of meaningless drinking and sex will be better for her than sitting around trying to puzzle through this thing. We can figure something out later.”

  Allan eventually nodded, evidently not trusting his voice, and the girls both cheered. After a flurry of activity—collecting wallets and phones, getting Allan dressed in the proper clothes, figuring out who exactly was going to drive—they all piled into Krystal’s old truck and took off for one of their favorite spots.

  Allan and Riley sat in the backseat together out of instinct—usually when they left the club, Krystal or Russ would have an extra guest along, and Krystal always insisted the guest sit in the front seat. Over time, it had just become a habit for the boys to set up in the backseat and the girls to take the front. Now though, the few millimeters of space between Riley and Allan felt like a vast stretch of empty void, an impenetrable barrier that neither one of them dared cross. Her roommate was steadfastly not looking at her, instead staring stiffly out the window as though turning his head to look at her would hurt him somehow. The radio was blasting some song Riley had heard on the radio too many times, and the brunette tuned it out in favor of sneaking peeks across the void to her old friend, wondering what he was thinking about.

  She fervently hoped this wouldn’t change anything between them. Riley was more comfortable with this change than she ever would have thought she’d be as Russ, and she was actually looking forward to a night of testing out her new body and finding out if her hypothesis about a high sex drive being an attractive thing for a girl to have was right or not. But Allan might be too uncomfortable living with her now that she was no longer a guy; that meant she’d have to find a new apartment on top of searching for a new job and getting all her papers in order. She needed a new ID, a new passport… She thanked whatever magic had turned her into a girl that she still looked over 21 and wasn’t one of those waifish little things who got carded well into their thirties. Riley desperately wanted a drink.

  Vérita, their favorite clubbing destination, was lit up brighter than the entire city of New York as Krystal pulled her truck into the parking lot and killed the engine. The number of cars around suggested that the place was already crowded beyond normal for this time of night, and her suspicions were confirmed when Riley saw the ridiculous line that stretched from the club doors and around the side of the building. She could just barely make out the figure of the hulking man who owned the club, Oliver, as he acted in his usual role as the bouncer at the door. The trio wasn’t worried about getting in; they were here enough that Oliver usually let them have their first drink of the night free for being such loyal customers.

  They crossed the parking lot with their ears already full of the pounding, Electro-European music that filled the air and made conversation impossible inside the club. Krystal looped her arm through Riley’s and pulled her forward, with Allan trotting dutifully after them with an odd look on his face that she couldn’t place. Some of the people in line called out to them as they passed, familiar faces who’d met them inside before. A girl asked Krystal if she could get her into the club with them, but the red-head only smiled and wiggled her fingers in a wave as they passed.

  Oliver greeted them with a nod when they arrived at the entrance, though his gaze lingered on Riley’s face for a while. She felt slightly uncomfortable underneath his obvious scrutiny, nervously tucking stray piece of her hair behind her ears.

  “No Russ?” he asked in heavily accented English, ignoring the complaints of the other people in l
ine as he unhooked the rope for their group and let them past him. Krystal flashed him a brilliant smile and shrugged, her manicured nails glinting as she ran them through her hair.

  “He’s on vacation. This is his twin sister Riley!”

  She smiled hesitantly at the swede, unsure if he’d really buy the twin sister explanation as the reason they looked so much alike. But they didn’t know Oliver well, and it wasn’t too likely that he’d call bullshit on a fake twin sister he’d never heard about before. Like figuring out what to do about the entire situation, figuring out her new identity could come later. After way too many drinks.

  Before the bouncer could question them too much, Krystal threw her arm around Riley’s shoulders and pulled her into the familiar, pounding music of the club.

  Neon lights threw fantastic glittering light and moving shapes over every available surface inside. The dance floor was a mass of bodies writhing together and moving in time to the pulsing of the music that blared through speakers stacked four high. Their movements were the beating heart of the room, pumping life and energy into a twisted, almost-tangible mass in the air. Around the corners of the dance floor were tables and booths packed with young, beautiful people, drinking, talking, laughing, and watching the mob in front of them with brilliant, eager smiles and roaming eyes. Vérita was the premier club in the area for a reason: wonderful service, gorgeous people, and the best fucking drinks within fifty miles.

  Allan hooked his thumb towards an empty booth in the corner and they all piled into it quickly, lest it disappear from under their noses. Drink menus were scattered around the table, but they all knew exactly what to order without having to check the extensive list of alcohol. Krystal disappeared up to the bar to chat with the cute bartender and grab their drinks, leaving Riley and Allan alone together at the table.

  She smiled nervously, trying to decide what to do. He was still acting strangely; he refused to look at her, instead glancing everywhere and anywhere else. His fingertips drummed on the table in a nervous, familiar cadence; something he only did when he was uncomfortable. She didn’t think he’d actually seen her since the moment she caught him staring at her in the house.

  She’d never looked at him for this long before either—not as a girl, anyway. Riley studied the way the light caught on his jawline and cast a shadow down his face, square and handsome under the neon spotlights. There was a pulsing green light that appeared and disappeared every few seconds, and it caught his eyes well enough to light them up like a green fire. Her best friend was handsome in a way she’d never realized before, muscles clearly defined under the tight shirt they’d coerced him into and hair swept away from his forehead with what must have been pounds of gel.

  With a start, Riley realized she was attracted to him. Sexually.

  That was new. Russ had been pretty damn straight, and she’d assumed that she’d continue to be attracted to girls even though she was Riley now; the romp with Krystal certainly proved that they could still get her engine going. She’d been entertained by the idea of challenging Krystal for the title of biggest lesbian in the world. But now the well-defined muscles of Allan’s arms and the flat lines of his shoulders lit a fire in her belly too—a fire that was familiar; a fire that desperately begged to be quenched. It seemed she was bisexual now, or at least curious enough to consider hooking up with her best friend. Even thinking the words made her feel slightly dirty, though, and she quickly turned away from him lest she give herself away by staring.

  Krystal returned with the drinks quickly, setting a beer in front of Allan and dropping the vodka soda Riley preferred off with her. Their neighbor’s own drink was a brilliant pink color, a concoction named after her that she’d convinced the bi-curious bartender to put on the menu after a wild night of girl-on-girl passion one evening. Riley only had a few seconds to drink the soda before her friend was pulling her onto the dance floor, shouting for Allan to watch their stuff as they disappeared into the mass of people. Somehow Krystal had managed to down the whole thing in one gulp.

  Dancing as a girl was easier than she’d expect, and it was easy to lose yourself in the beat, she discovered. Riley’s ears were full of electronic chords and the base thrummed in her chest in time with her heartbeat. Forgetting her momentary confusion, she threw her hands up and let herself move in time with the rest of the crowd. People bumped against her back and sides, and she realized it was different dancing down here, a few inches shorter than Russ was. Bodies were all she could see—Russ had been able to glance over most of the crowd and keep tabs on his friends that way. Krystal’s face blurred in and out of her vision at random intervals, sometimes watching her dance with a smile and sometimes focused on some other girl she’d spotted on the floor. It was sweet, the way her neighbor seemed to be trying to keep tabs on her, as if being a girl in the club would make Riley forget everything she’d ever known about how to party.

  Throwing caution to the wind and deciding to sort out the question of what other changes had happened later, she stepped forward into the closest cute face she saw and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Russ had loved girls who weren’t afraid to make the first move, and Riley was pretty sure he wasn’t alone.

  The man’s startled face turned to her, but it soon turned into a smile as he saw the petite girl grinding against his side. Soon he returned the favor, his hands settling down low on her hips to help her get more leverage against his jeans. The feeling of his fingers digging into her skin was deliciously painful and Riley threw her head back with a laugh when she felt them cautiously slide around to her ass and dig into the tender flesh there.

  It felt good to be a hot piece of ass at the club—it was nice to be wanted.

  And it soon became clear that she was incredibly wanted. As the songs continued, she flew around the dance floor and into the arms of anyone who wanted to dance with her, just for a little bit. Semi-familiar faces of club regulars passed her by, eager to dance with someone they didn’t recognize. Both boys and girls ran their hands up and down her sides as she pouted at them with puppy-dog eyes, easily holding their attention in the palm of her hand. With a toss of her hair or a sway of her hips, Riley could easily have the entire club’s attention. Sweat and body heat poured off of her in waves but she moved too fast for fatigue to catch up, unable to focus on anything but the roaring of the crowd around her and the thrill of knowing how many of them wanted her.

  Eventually little things began to break into her concentration on the music—fingernails digging too hard into her skin, hot breath that smelled rancid against her cheek. A man she hadn’t seen before was holding her wrist a little too hard, using it to pull her back against him and trapping her there with his other arm. He had a slick look to him—gelled hair, a gold tooth, and a grin that made her feel slightly nauseous. His shirt was cheap against her body, the scratchy fake material irritating and raw against her skin. Riley tried to pull away from him, but his arm snaked around the small of her back, pining her tight against his body.

  “C’mon baby. You’ve given everyone else a taste…” He trailed off, leaning in to press his face close to hers. She glanced around for Krystal, but for the first time that night she couldn’t see her friend standing anywhere nearby.

  Russ had been used to playing the buffer for Krystal. Sometimes guys didn’t want to accept the fact that she wasn’t into them. Sometimes they got aggressive, or angry, or any other number of stupid things that made no sense. Russ often had to push his way between them and Krystal, using his mass to scare them off so she could dance and flirt with other girls in peace. But now Riley didn’t have Russ’s huge shoulders or a body like a linebacker’s. She’d never realized how scary it was to be helpless like this with someone she didn’t want to be with. Panic settled in her chest, hot and cold at the same time as ice water and adrenaline began pumping through her veins.

  “Let me go!”

  She was too small to squirm her way out of this man’s grip as his knee slipped between her legs
and he forced it up painfully into her crotch. He might have been trying to be sexy, letting her grind on him like that, but it was too hard, too fast, and too unwanted to be able to create anything other than revulsion inside of her.

  Suddenly a huge shape appeared behind the man, and she glanced up in time to catch a glimpse of Allan looking angrier than she’d ever seen him before. The guy holding her looked up too, right on cue to catch the brunt of her friend’s fist as he slugged the guy straight across the face.

  He spun away from Riley, releasing her in favor of holding his hands to his newly bleeding nose. Allan wrapped his arm around her shoulders and steered her through the crowd, using his size to part the dancers in front of him like water when faced with a boulder. Krystal appeared out of nowhere on their trek to the table, hair a little bit more mussed than it had been when Riley last saw her, with a look like she’d just eaten a particularly sour lemon.

  “You can’t just disappear, hun,” she said as they made it back to their table and the relative peace away from the dance floor. “Guys flock to girls dancing alone.”

  Allan wordlessly slid another vodka soda over to her, and she upended it gratefully, trying to wash the bad taste of the man’s breath out of her mouth. She fought the urge to remind Krystal that she was the one who had disappeared first.

  But Riley knew that Krystal’s words were true. Until tonight, she’d been one of the guys who kept a lookout for girls who seemed like they might be at the club alone. It meant they’d really come out to party, looking for someone who would take away all their troubles for that night—or so she’d thought. Riley had just wanted to dance, though. The thought that she might have accidentally made a girl feel the way she felt now, once upon a time, weighed heavily on her shoulders. Faces flashed in her mind and she tried to remember anything someone might have said to indicate they weren’t having a good time. She hadn’t thought of it like that before—how it must feel to be surrounded by guys bigger than you, looking to have an easy target for the night.