Chapter 81

On the drive home I tried to sort it out, and maybe make sense of it all. I hadn't taken the time in the morning, since Billy Joe was gone when I awoke. I didn't want to think at that moment. I just wanted to get the hell away from there before the police came to charge me with Statutory rape or some such thing. Hell Billy was no more than sixteen at best. More likely he was even less, but I didn't know for sure. What I did know is that he was a minor. I had known that when I allowed him in my bed. I also knew better than to do it, but I had.

It could have been worse. I could have still been an undercover operative for the, what was then called, the SBI. It was called the Investigation Division of the Federal Police by the time I screwed Billy. I know it is all confusing but it is even more complicated for me, than it is for the general public.

I hadn't done my final money count, but I expected to go home with my tail between my legs. Fortunately I wasn't dependent on the shows for a living. I ran the studio at a real loss, but I intended to always show a small profit on paper. Juggling those books was going to be a bitch, but having a real job would be an even bigger bitch.

By the time I reached home I had decided that a change was not in order. For me, the status quo was going to be my life for a while at least. I intended just to enjoy it. I swore to myself that enjoying it did not include sex with minors ever again. It also did not include a continuation of my recent cloistered lifestyle either. It was time to get back out there and live again. Maybe with a slow start, but I intended to put myself out there nonetheless.

Since I left Gulfport for home right after breakfast, I was in Mossberg shortly after the Sunday Church goers lunch hour. I stopped at the Dairy Queen for only a slightly late lunch. I had expected that the new Manager would have heard of me. Not good things mind you, but to my great surprise he didn't even look at me twice. I was almost disappointed.

Back when I had a body by Dr. Frankenstein, it was unusual for men not to notice me. In those days I was just a thirty year old drab housewife type. Best case scenario, replace housewife with crazy artist. Either way men didn't notice me nearly as often.

It hadn't bothered me before. On that particular day I missed the attention. My first step was to recognize it as a problem. Then I had to decide whether to fix the problem or not. Finally I had to decide on a course of action.

To do that I had to research it. The first thing I did was an honest, factual appraisal of my body. When I departed on the cruise I had been five feet six inches tall and one hundred and twenty pounds.

After my six months on Devils Island, I was still five feet six inches but I weighed well under one hundred pounds. The day I stepped out of that plane, I looked like a poster girl for Dachau.

I hardly gained any weight at all, until the doctors poisoned me to kill the last of the parasitic worms inside my intestinal tract. I had gained ten pounds in the three months since the end of my eating for a dozen, and getting nothing out of it.

I was within single digits of a hundred pounds when I left for Gulfport Miss. So I was still tall and skinny with small boobs. But before I made the decision to have new implants done, I needed to get my weight back up close to normal.

In the meantime I wanted to look better. My first decision was not to screw around with my hair. I could see that a little make up would do wonders for me. At least I wouldn't be mistaken for a guy, if I wore make up and maybe a push up bra.

All that was worked out on Sunday afternoon. So I went to the web to do my basic research. First I learned all about liquid foundation most often used to hide lines and wrinkles. I took a look at my face in the harsh light of a modeling light. My eyes and forehead were free of wrinkles at the moment. I had the sagging skin typical of large quick weight loss. The best advice I could find was to gain a minimum of ten more pounds then reassess the sags.

So the foundation wasn't really an issue yet. Light eye makeup. Light meaning not enough to look like a teenage girl on the way to her first prom. Still I did need something, but it should be very subdued. Also I needed a light mascara for when I went out at night. Otherwise a little shaping of my eyebrows would make me look more feminine. Fortunately I had a hell of a tan from my days on the Island. I would have to worry about looking washed out for a while.

So I decided that I needed lip gloss, a little powder and an eyeliner. I could also get away with the no makeup thing, if I made my body a little less androgynous. That meant more skinny jeans and tight tops. If I really wanted to look feminine it would be soft white tops and no bra, which I did a lot before my cruise. Of course none of those tops fit any more.

I had gone from a 36d to a 32a. It was too large a change to wear my old clothes and not have it look obvious.

From the size 10 top to a size 2 was a huge change. I knew what I had to do, so I planned on spending all day Monday on the chore. My jeans size was down to a size 0. Believe me I was no model, it just was how I had to have them so they wouldn't bag on me.

I chose the styles that fit much differently than before. I was interested in a good fit because I no longer had a body that demanded attention no matter what I wore. For the first time, since I was pulled out of prison by the SBI, I was going to have to work at getting noticed.

After the research was finished it was time for dinner. Rather than go out I microwaved a frozen dish of mac & cheese. That and a bunch of reheated frozen hush puppies comprised my dinner. I did go out long enough to purchase a chocolate milk shake. I could get addicted to them easily enough.

I found myself at home drinking the milkshake and roaming around a chat room again. It was strange because I had always refused to chat with people claiming to be teenagers. Some said they were eighteen or nineteen but some claimed to be younger. Without any conscious decision I began accepting messages from them.

I found that I liked leading the supposedly young men to erotic conversations. I had always acted somewhat submissive, but I was able to adapt to the leadership role easily enough.

One thing about masturbation is that it is all in your own head, as well as in your own hands of course. It didn't matter who was on the other end of the line so to speak. I found a young man that first night who wanted to take control. It was his thing to push grown women around. Probably he was a mama's boy, I thought. That didn't matter it was an erotic situation and one guaranteed to make me orgasm. The first time it was simply a small orgasm which was comforting and even comfortable.

The next morning after my walk, I went to Williamston. I went directly from the Dairy Queen to the Walmart store without a stop of any kind in between. I bought a bunch of new knit tops all in size 2 and jeans in size 0. I tried on one of each and found the tops uncomfortably tight. I had no choice but to buy them since anything larger made me look like a bag lady. I also bought a bicycle before I left the building. A two wheeler would seem to work just fine since there was no ice on the roads in Mossberg, or in that whole area for that matter.

The truck was filled with clothes and a boxed bicycle. The salesman was good enough to explain what would be needed to get the bicycle on the road. The hardware department in the store had all the tools I needed so I stopped to purchase them all.

When I arrived in Mossberg shortly after twelve, I stopped at the Dairy Queen for a burger fries and a milk shake. I knew that it would take awhile for me to begin filling those jeans and probably add a little to the top as well. It probably wouldn't change my cup size, but I might put on a layer of fat along my rib cage. I could go from a 32a to maybe a 34a. It wasn't that it would necessarily be an improvement, but I sure as hell looked too skinny. I guessed that it wouldn't hurt anything. Nobody was going to doubt my cover story for the missing months. I truly did look like a cancer survivor.

I still didn't have a hell of a lot of appetite, but it was at least twice as good as before the poisoning of the worms. I for sure had a hell of a lot more energy.

Because of the energy I went to work on the bike assembly. It was late that afternoon when I got the bicycle together. I had sprung for the extra hundred to get a three speed bike. All the gears were inside the rear wheel. Because of that I didn't have to mess with a dérailleur. I was happy about that.

I fixed a frozen dinner, then went to sit in front of the computer with a cup of black coffee. I read the news then went to bed early.

I was up at 5 AM, even if I did have to set the alarm on my cell phone. I drank a cup of coffee while I stared out the second story window which faced the small main street. I looked into the empty building across the street and thought I should do something with that building. I would have, if I had any idea what the building could be used for when I finished.

After the coffee I went down to pull the bike from the storage shed. I climbed on it then got off to adjust the seat. Once I had what I thought to be a to be the right height, I took off for the Dairy Queen. It was less than five miles, so I used my knowledge of the area to add five more miles to the ride out. When I got there I was tired and a little winded. I picked up the bacon and egg biscuit from the counter then went to sit at the table by the window.

At barely 6 AM there were no other customers. Before I finished my biscuit that changed. They drifted in mostly in pairs, either a pair of construction workers or a man and a woman. By seven the place had started to fill up so I left.

I rode straight back to the downtown studio/apartment building. When I arrived I started to work on a couple of prints I wanted to make from the show in Gulfport. There had been a beautiful older southern belle type woman who had sat for me. She bought a ten dollar sketch, but I wanted to make a generic portrait of her, one that would take some time. One that I would also have charged one hundred dollars at least. Most likely it would remain a sample which was fine with me.