Chapter 35: Seeing to Bianca's Welfare and Louise's Makeover

"What are y'all doin' tonight?" Draper asked Nate.

"I'm gonna go see Mama after school, but no big plans after that. Probably be a good idea to take Nora somewhere," Nate muttered.

"Probly, bein' it's Friday night. Wanna double? Last weekend was a kick..."

"Sounds good. I'll talk to Nora," Nate agreed.

"Cool. If 'Nisha gets grabby an' goes diggin' in my fly, won't be no uproar if we're with y'all," Draper chuckled.

"You make it sound like you're sufferin'..." Nate laughed.

"Yeh." Draper grinned. "What 'bout Stick?"

"Him an' Mary an' Teddy are goin' to some club meeting of Teddy's buds." Nate rolled his eyes.

"Well, shit happens. If Nora wanted to go, you'd be doin' what?"

"Yeah, yeah. Call ya 'bout six?"

"Cool." The pair parted company.

"Uh, Bianca?" Pete was standing in the door of Bianca's rooms.

"Yes, Pete?" What was HE doing here?

Pete exuded unease. "Uh, some of your Papa's stuff came back today by UPS. I thought you might want to look through it..."

"Oh! Okay."

"Where do you want it?"

"Ummm, here, I guess. Do you need help?"

"I thought to bring a hand truck this time," Pete grinned. "It'll only take a couple of trips."

"I'll go with you." As the pair started down the hall to the delivery area, Bianca added, "Thanks! I'm sure most of it is going to be trash, but I'll probably want a couple of things..."

"That's what I figured."

"Mama might too..." But Bianca wondered about that as soon as she said it. Jason had been very clear that he expected her mother to treat her relationship with Raoul as a closed period in her life, and Mama wasn't showing any reluctance to do so -- relations with Papa had been poor before the breakup, and Jason was both giving and demanding more of Mama's attention that Papa ever did. Pete, obviously thinking the same thing, held his peace.

The hand truck could handle six boxes. Pete took a load, dropped it, and went back, with Bianca trailing him the whole time; it turned out that her presence was only necessary when there turned out to be one box too many in the second load. When they were done, there were three stacks of boxes in the sitting room. Pete caught Bianca's hesitation, "Do you know how you're gonna do this?"

"Well, I guess I'm going to just dig around. Most of the clothing and stuff isn't going to do anyone any good -- it'll be trash. Mama should be here, I think..."

"Good idea. I don't think you should do this alone..." Pete suggested gently.

"I'll go get Mama..."

"Do you want me to wait?" Pete wasn't offering to guard the boxes, and they both knew it.

"If you... don't have anything else to do..." Bianca replied carefully. It was a tacit admission that she wanted to spend time with him, too.

"Okay. I'll probably need to help you get rid... uh, take the excess to the trash," Pete stammered. Bianca nodded, mute, and departed. 'I have to be nuts!' he worried, as she disappeared through the door. 'What kind of idiot hunts a fourteen year old?' But the fact was that he was drawn to her, not only physically, but by her emotional vulnerability. Taking advantage of her sexually didn't enter into his current motives; instead, he was more concerned about providing emotional support, warmth and comfort. Where was she going to get that? Jason? It wasn't exactly in his skill set, and her Mama was thoroughly distracted by her new role. The Wench was Bianca's new female confidante -- and if she needed a father figure, well, Pete could keep his dick in his pants...

Mama wasn't in Jason's rooms; Bianca found her in the kitchen, working with Velma. "Mama, a bunch of Papa's stuff came back from Kansas City. I have it in my rooms..."

Inez stopped what she was doing, considered, and said, "I... really don't want to deal with that. If you find papers and things, you should set them aside for me to look at, but..."

"Do you want to keep anything?" Bianca just missed pleading.

"If something looks valuable, my flower, you may want to set it aside. We should probably send some things home to the family -- but you get first pick." Inez smiled and pushed Bianca's hair back off her forehead, "The only reminder of our marriage I REALLY want stands here before me -- I need no other keepsakes..."

"Okay." Bianca smiled sadly, leaning into her mother's caress, and turned away to handle the task.

When she was gone, Velma looked up. "She was lookin' fo' some support; dat goin' through shit gonna be hard on her..."

"Oh," Inez grunted. "Selfish of me... When this is ready, I'll go look in on her."

It took ten minutes, but Inez found herself standing in the door of her old rooms. What she saw when she got there gave her pause; Pete was there, holding open a box while Bianca methodically emptied it, placing things in two or three separate piles. Neither of the pair was positioned to see her, so Inez merely waited, silently observing. Bianca would extract something from the box, and either place it on the trash pile without comment, or place it on the 'to keep' pile, sometimes murmuring a comment regarding its significance to Pete. Inez watched the pair do an entire box before she realized that she was waiting for something...

It happened. The box containing Raoul's knife set surfaced; Bianca opened it, and remarked, "There's one missing..." There was a pregnant pause while she absorbed the significance, then Bianca burst into tears -- Inez realized in that moment that the missing knife was probably the one used in the ill-considered attempt to take out the security guard that ended her husband's life. Pete stood there a second, flustered, then turned to take Bianca into his arms, where she collapsed, crying loudly, clearly deep into the release of her grief.

The motion brought Pete around to the point that Inez was visible to him, and he detected her there, lingering in the doorway -- but there was no flinch, no guilt, no surprise in his expression. Instead, there was an accusatory glare, and a flicker of a glance that said, 'You can take over here... '

Inez shook her head. She had gotten the answer to the question that held her rooted in the door; Pete's motives were pure. She backed away and returned to the kitchen, uninterested in entering the emotional maelstrom of her daughter's grief.

"Yo' back a'ready?" Velma murmured, mildly surprised.

"Pete's with her," Inez, replied, sighing. "He is doing a better job with her than I could..."

"Ah. Dat pair gotta thing goin' -- dey ain't done nuthin', but dey both wanna..."

"Oh?"

"Yeh." Velma cast an amused glance at Inez -- it was amazing how blind she was... "We done talked 'bout it, Bianca an' me. She's gotta crush. Cain't blame her; Pete's downright purty. Da guys tease Pete alla time, 'cause he got the hots fo' her, too, but he won't do nuthin' 'cause she's so much younger..."

Inez nodded. "He was being protective, not looking for anything he shouldn't have -- that's why I left them..."

"Still, might happen, now. Dis might spark things. Not today, but da door be open. Y'all need ta know 'bout it; Bianca, she'll give herself ta him if'n she gets a chance."

"Maybe I should stop them..."

"Mebbe it's too late," Velma eyed the Mexican woman. "Y'all kin keep Pete from doin' anythin', 'cause he be a good boy. But if'n Bianca wants him ta get it bad enough, he'll wake up wit' her climbin' in his bed." She mused a moment. "Me, I don' think it's any too bad -- Pete will treat her right, an' she knows it won't last 'cause o' their ages..."

"You'd have her sleep with a man who is not her husband?" Inez demanded.

Velma didn't say anything; the look she gave Inez said it for her. Inez had no reason to talk...

Inez cringed. "I'm an awful parent. I set this terrible example, and now she will follow me to Hell..."

"No, Honey, yo' got it wrong!" Velma consoled. "Way Ah see it, yo' did it da way yo' church says to, an' yo' jus' proved that it don't work! Bianca, she be hot-blooded, like her Mama; bettah she find out how it feels when it's done right, 'stead of mixin' up love an' sex an' settlin' fo' sumpthin' dat won't last..."

"What if she decides that she loves Pete?"

Velma shrugged. "Right now, she knows bettah. Ya CAN do it -- ya CAN be wit' an older guy, if it works right. But love sometimes ain't a fo'evah thing, 'specially when yo' young. She might fall head ovah heels -- but grow outta it, no harm done. You loved dat bastid Raoul, din't ya?"

"Yes, when we got married," Inez agreed, "Even for a long time after."

"Ya love him at da end?"

"Maybe. More than anything else, we were just used to each other."

"Yo' was stuck wit' one another. DAT's how yo' folk handle marriage. An' DAT's what's wrong wit' it! Dem rules dat got made for marriage was for folk dat didn't live dat long -- folk dat had roles set up for 'em, an' probly wouldn't live ta see their grandkids! Nowadays, folks live three times as long, an' shit's all mixed up 'bout who does what; fo'evah don' enter inta it. Lookah here! You think Mistah Jason gonna marry you? Why SHOULD he? What's he get he ain't already got?"

"Uuuuuhhhh..." Inez thought hard, and her shoulders slumped. "Nothing."

" 'Zactly. Dey fill yo' head wit' bullshit 'bout how marriage is 'bout love, but it ain't. Bottom line, marriage be a business partnership; if'n ya don' believe me, take a look at divorce -- dat 'bout money fo' sho'! Mistah Jason OWNS yo' ass -- why would he wanna make yo' a partner?"

"Okay, but..."

"Ah'm gettin' dere. How mucha yo' sex life las' coupla years been 'bout marriage?"

"Uh, none..." Inez blushed. Raoul hadn't gotten anything for at least a year -- and she'd liked it that way.

"Den why tie li'l Bianca up by tellin' her she's gotta marry somebody jus' ta git her cooze scratched. Dat be damnall stupid..."

"It's the right way..." Inez started to get up a head of steam.

"Nah. You KNOW bettah! It's da PERFECT way -- da 'happily evah aftah' way -- an' nowadays, mebbe one person in ten kin make dat work! But yo' church don' settle fo' nuthin' less! What 'bout da rest o' us po' bastids?" Velma challenged Inez, hands on hips. "What 'bout ME? Yo' think Ah'm EVAH goin' ta git MARRIED? Ah'm goin be lucky ta git mah cooze dipped t'ree-fo' mo' times afore Ah'm eighty! Dat be wit'out even sayin' da 'M' word..."

"But Bianca..."

"Yo' think she stands a chance? She be young, and beautiful -- an' hot. We done talked; girl wants dipped, NOW." Velma eyed Inez. "When was YOU dipped da firs' time? Don' girls in Mexico git married real young? Howcum you figger dat livin' here da rules didn't change but biology has?"

"I was pure on my wedding night!" Inez huffed.

"An' lookit what DAT got ya! Yo' don' think dat you'da been happier if Mistah Jason popped yo' cherry?"

"He wouldn't have," Inez sighed.

"Nope. Even if'n he was dere, he wouldn'ta done it. You know why? 'Cause he don' believe in dat 'pig in a poke' shit dat yo' church puts out!" Velma shook her head in disgust. "Yo' know it don' work, firsthand. Why you wann off dat bullshit on Bianca?"

"She shouldn't be a slut..."

Velma looked carnivorous. "Sluts don' pick an' choose. Bianca ain't a slut -- probly nevah WILL be. But YO' is -- an' YO' got NO DAMN CHOICE, do ya?"

Inez blushed almost purple; Wednesday night's activities had proven the truth of THAT accusation.

Velma nodded at the confirmation. "See? Mistah Jason tells you ta suck a dick, yo' goin' do it -- period. An' I bet da Boss been in yo' cooze lately, too! DAT's a slut! If'n Bianca picks an' chooses her boyfriends, an' she shows any sense 'bout it, she ain't a slut."

"I'm going to go to Hell!" Inez wailed.

"Nah. Even YO' church forgives folk. You'll be fine." She stepped forward and took Inez in, thinking to herself that it was amazing that Bianca did so well -- both of her parents were so self-absorbed...

Inez shook and sniffled. "It's horrible! I'M horrible!"

"It is not!" Velma remonstrated. "Yo' like it an' yo' knows it! Don'tcha?"

"Yes," Inez admitted. "I SAID I was horrible!"

"Why cain't yo' jus' be happy? If'n Ah was gettin' mah cooze punched as much as yo' do yours, Ah'd be a whistlin' and doin' little dances all over da kitchen!"

"And being beaten? Degraded?" Inez argued.

"Honey, yo' already decided dat yo' can handle DAT! If'n yo' couldn't, you'da been gone a'ready! Beatin' yo'self up ovah admittin' yo' lahk it be a waste o' time an' energy -- suck it up an' don' worry 'bout it."

Inez stepped back. "I'm still concerned. Pete is so much older..."

"An' he know what he's doin'. Yo' want her ta lose her cherry ta some fumblin' boy in da back seat of a Volkswagen? Some kid don' know what he's doin' an' fooks it up? Pete's got sense, an' he knows da rules. Looka here -- you'd be doin' her a favor ta get HER ta Doc Beckman fo' some pills, not worryin' when she shows good sense 'bout gettin' her cherry popped by an expert!"

"I-I must think on these things," Inez murmured, rubbing her forehead.

"Ya got a little while," Velma sighed. "But not long. You oughta talk ta the Wench -- she be educated. Ah DO know DIS, though: Da Catholics been organized a LOOOONG time. An' dey run things ovahseas for centuries. An a bunch o' da shit in dey teachin's don' have nuthin' ta do wit' da original shit Jesus said, and ever'thin' ta do wit' runnin' things. Da rules is strict ta keep ya feelin' guilty -- it keeps ya in line. Den ya tell 'em all yer secrets in dem little booths -- an' dey's got stuff on yo', whether yo' really think 'bout it or not! An' da rules don' apply to dem dat's runnin' things -- take a look at what dey been doin' to altar boys!" Velma scoffed. "You need ta dump dat shit yo' was raised on, 'cause it don' match yo' life, nowheres."

"Maybe you're right. But it's a little late..."

"Well, don' let it kick yo' in da ass."

"Okay." Anything to shut the fat woman up... "Thank you, Velma, for your counsel."

"Sho'," Velma wasn't fooled. Inez wasn't going to break her chains based on THIS conversation. But maybe she'd think twice about interfering in Bianca's affairs. 'Affairs... ' Velma liked that term. Was what Ed and she had done an 'affair'? Would it continue to BE one? Good thing peeling potatoes went on automatic; she'd never get it done, otherwise...

Meanwhile, Pete was dealing with both sides of the issue of comforting a beautiful woman. Bianca was crying bitterly, venting her grief in loud sobs, soaking the front of Pete's golf shirt with her tears. Pete had no problem with this -- it brought out the protector in him. He cuddled her and rocked her, holding her close in order to provide her comfort. The flip side, though, was that he was holding a double-armload of softly pliant woman. Bianca might only be fourteen, but she was fully developed in a way that Pete's twenty-three year old 'fuck buddy' Amy had never approached. Amy was taller, but somewhat thin and rawboned, with small but pointed breasts that were starting to slide down her chest. Bianca, on the other hand, was a bit shorter, but softly rounded everywhere, her body a collection of sweet, sweeping curves that, while not fat by any means, were womanly in ways that made Amy look -- and feel -- like a stick figure. And right now, a set of grapefruit-sized breasts were pressed to his lower ribcage, and he was rubbing a youthfully muscled back that WASN'T revealing a washboard ribcage to his fingers while a pair of well-fleshed but powerful thighs pulled a puffy prominence against his upper thigh... There were things to be said for thin girls -- Amy was certainly athletic, for instance -- but this... For the umpteenth time in ten minutes, Pete reminded himself that he was providing comfort here, and a boner was out of character -- but his cock wasn't really listening, leaving Pete thankful that Bianca was hugging him a bit off-side... He patted and ran his fingers through Bianca's luxuriously thick, black hair, reflecting that it was just another luxurious difference between Bianca and Amy, whose hair was a good deal thinner and more lank, even though the colors weren't that far off. Pete had discovered that the blonde mystique was utter bullshit early and deliberately avoided them, concentrating on brunettes and redheads -- which led to another contrast. Amy was pale, lightly complected, while Bianca had this golden glow that didn't even rely on the sun... Add the fact that Pete KNEW from the porch incident that Bianca could cum like a freight train and you got a fine case of agony and ecstasy...

Bianca gathered herself and stepped back, but Pete didn't react quickly and she ended up shifting and taking a rather solid lump on her left hip before she got clear. Pete managed not to SAY 'Oh, shit!' but the thought reverberated in his brain as he turned away. Bianca's head was still down, so the move profiled him rather than fig leafing him; no, a bulge like that, aligned with his zipper, wasn't a pocketknife or a screwdriver. Well, it MIGHT be a screwdriver, sort of... Bianca's lips managed to quirk a bit as she caught his sidelong glance. "Are you okay now?" he asked.

"Much better," she replied. "I hadn't really let that out."

Pete nodded, pushing hard to get into the proper innocently supportive frame of mind. "Should I stay?"

"Please?" Bianca replied. "You've been... very supportive..."

'Yeah, that's me. Pete Logan, Eagle Scout' "Sure."

Bianca went back to digging in the boxes as if the emotional interlude just passed hadn't happened -- except they both knew better.

The weekly basketball game kicked off at 4:00 p.m., right on schedule. The home team wasn't any league powerhouse, but Winton High sucked, so the home team was up by twenty at the half, and just held it there, letting the little kids play until Winton closed within ten, then upping the power and pushing them back off. The crowd wasn't huge, and with the end nowhere near being in doubt, it began to thin already during the second period. Rob glanced up to check on Mary and noticed another figure seated next to her. "Hey, who's that? With Mary?"

"Dunno. Where?" Ted asked.

"Up top. Usual place."

Ted looked, grinned. "Ain't Darla Jean..."

"Big surprise." Rob had gotten the other side of the story from Mary, and was thoroughly disgusted with Ted. Ted, being Ted, hadn't noticed.

Dwayne took a look. It took a second or two, but then the droopy dress triggered him. "Louise Bryant?"

"Huh!" Rob grunted. "And she's with Mary, because?"

Ted grinned. "Mary's the new lightning rod for Bang Nation, I guess. Wonder who she's here for?" He preened a bit.

"I guess it all depends on whether she's into rape or not," Rob replied sourly. Several others on the bench laughed. Dwayne wasn't among them.

"Hey, she was hot! She put the rubber on with her own two hands!" Ted protested.

"Who'd want to have YOUR bastards?" Rob shot back, pretending good humor. If he needed any confirmation of the truth of Mary's tale, it was there in Dwayne's face.

Meanwhile Ted pretended to have been comically stabbed between the shoulder blades. "I'm cut to the quick!"

"You will be, if you ever pull THAT stunt again," Dwayne mumbled under his breath. Ted was out posturing and didn't hear, but Rob did, and so did at least two others. Ted had lost a friend and supporter over the incident with Darla Jean, and he didn't have any to spare.

Things had changed by the second half; Louise had been replaced by some other chick in sweats. Rob wondered vaguely what was going on; nobody seemed to know who Louise's replacement was.

The game ended and the boys hit the showers. Billy Baldwin, who had hit the showers early, stuck his head back in the door and yelled, "There's a few still out there -- including one sitting with Rob's girl." Ted started talking trash immediately, acting as if the mystery girl's target was a foregone conclusion; Dwayne kept his mouth shut.

Louise had surprised Mary Eikenberry no end when she settled next to her. "Uh, hi, Louise. Anything I can do for you?"

"You're waiting for Rob, right?" Louise returned.

"Uh huh." Mary waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally, Louise husked, "I heard that Dwayne might be..."

'What?' "Looking?"

"Uh, yeah." Louise colored.

"Last girl that went looking for Dwayne didn't fare so well..." Mary observed.

Louise swallowed. "I heard it wasn't his fault."

Mary smiled. "Your source and mine say the same thing. I, uh, didn't picture you putting yourself out on a limb..."

"I'm, uh, little shaky, but I have to do SOMETHING." Louise husked. "I... just don't get seen..."

Mary eyed her closely. "Well, that's pretty poor packaging." Louise's dress hung like a sack from its tight round neck and cap sleeves past its ungathered waist all the way to her ankles. "You look like Ma Kettle."

"Yeah," Louise replied tonelessly. "My mama dresses me funny."

Mary sighed. "She sure does! You look better in gym clothes!"

"I do?" Louise blinked.

"Well, yeah..." Mary shrugged. Louise had a baby pink sweatsuit with purple stripes on the legs that she wore to gym that was probably her closest approach to fashion.

"So I should put on sweats?" Louise looked around doubtfully. Actually, there were a bunch of girls in that kind of outfit in the bleachers for the game...

"You need to advertise," Mary advised. "What you're wearing says bad things about you. Well, maybe it says you're a good girl, but the implication to a boy is that you're a lost cause." She eyed Louise askance, "ARE you a lost cause?"

"I don't think I understand," Louise said carefully.

"I think you do," Mary replied. "If you don't, you need to. The fact that you've apparently settled on Dwayne tells me that you probably do."

"Ummm, maybe..." Louise hedged.

"C'mon, Louise -- it's just us girls here. I'm talking about sex. If it isn't important to you, why are you chasing boys whose reputations say they're good at it?"

"Okay, okay!" Louise whined. "I... think it might be important. I don't KNOW, but I think it is."

"Well, you dress about as sexy as that basketball goal over there," Mary pointed out. "There are a lot of girls in this school that dress like an ad for Victoria's Secret, but it's all appearance. You're not even in the competition; how do expect boys to notice you?"

"I dunno."

"Well, that thing you were doing to Randall is a start, I guess, but you need to make it worth their while, or else it's like being chased by a bratty little sister. You need to put some merchandise out on the shelf to be looked at..."

"And sweats do that?" Louise asked, confused.

Mary pointed out a girl in sweats, headed for the lobby. "What do you see?"

"Uh, a girl in sweats?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "See the walk? Sweatpants are thin, clingy fabric. They mold themselves to your ass when you walk. If you're walking right -- and I don't know if you know how -- a boy's eyes will get all twisted up watching your ass bounce and wiggle. Sweats are also easy to get into and out of, and they show it if you're not wearing underwear beneath..."

"Oh," Louise murmured, watching the departing girl. "OH!"

Mary nodded. "In some ways, your butt might as well be naked. And the fact that all they would have to do would be to slide their hand past that loose elastic waistband works on their heads, too. Or the fact that a good tug would snatch them down..."

Louise suddenly uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. Eyeing her, Mary asked, "Why did you do that?"

"I... got a little wet." Louise's face shaded toward pink. "Uh, my sweats -- well, I wear them to gym. They smell."

"Sometimes a boy wants a girl to smell like a girl. You can always put on a little perfume." The look on Louise's face gave her away. "You don't have any?" Mary asked, incredulous.

"Well, not here, anyway," Louise admitted.

"Where ELSE would you use it?"

"Nowhere." Louise rubbed her face.

Mary shook her head. "You're a basket case. Let's go down to the girl's lockers during halftime and change your clothes. Maybe I've got something in my locker that will help..."

"Really?"

"You need help. I can either talk about you, like Claudette, or I can help you. Helping you should be more fun." Mary's eyes drifted back to the game.

"Claudette says..."

"Claudette says anything that will make her look better than you," Mary replied bitterly, not looking at Louise. "Claudette says I'm a slut. Claudette says that because she couldn't hang onto Rob while giving him the cold shoulder. If sleeping with your boyfriend makes you a slut, then maybe I am -- but it's love, or something close enough that I can't tell the difference -- I didn't just fall into bed with Rob, but we got there, and the benefits are..." Mary paused, staring off into space, "... well worth it." She whirled on Louise, "Look, I don't recommend that you fall into bed with Dwayne on the first date; Darla Jean did, but that was because she just wanted the experience, not Dwayne himself. But you HAVE to give a boy a reason to come back, because there are a lot of distractions out there! A kiss and a cuddle won't hurt you, and you'll whet his appetite if you don't cut his hand off the first time it drifts somewhere it shouldn't. Besides, there are benefits to you..." She settled back. "Dwayne isn't really any too brave, or he'd be doing better -- but he DOES have a reputation, now, and you WILL have competition. You need to decide what you want, and what you're willing to do to get -- and keep -- it."

Louise gathered herself. "If he's nice, I want to go..."

"... All the way?" Mary supplied, when Louise's voice petered out.

"Yeah."

"We need to find a way to let him know there IS an 'all the way'," Mary replied. The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the second period, and Mary paused to ensure that her attention was in the right place when Rob looked up to find her -- boys' egos were SUCH tender things! -- then she turned to Louise and said, "Okay, let's shoot down to the locker room."

"You're not kidding?"

"Uh uh. Look, you're ahead of the power curve, here -- but if you want Dwayne, you'd better lock him down now, before some other girl trips him and lays down under him! You've heard of Bang Nation?"

"Um, yeah," Louise admitted. "The jocks' pool of..."

"Sluts?" Mary replied, watching her step as she danced down the bleachers. "I'd be careful how I characterized them, if I were you -- in the main, they're just desperate, like you, and willing to lay it all out to come home with something decent. Point is, you've confirmed my suspicions -- Rob is out of circulation, and Bang Nation is hunting for a new target. Ted THINKS he accomplished something during his little escapade with Darla Jean, and he might collect a couple of really bad girls -- but Dwayne was the big winner, there, and he stands to inherit Bang Nation -- IF you can't pin him to the mat first!"

"Okay..." Louise followed Mary as she threaded through the rush headed for the bathrooms, candy and drink machines, or outside for a smoke, bypassing the bathrooms and heading for the locker rooms around the corner. "Do you think I have a shot?"

"I don't know. It'd help if you could talk to him." They passed through the restroom portion of the locker room and entered the dressing room area. Louise waved toward the area where her locker was, and Mary continued, "Dwayne isn't that brave; Darla Jean practically had to stick his hands in her panties, I think. She was in a hurry -- but, frankly, you may need to be, too."

"That'll be tough," Louise mumbled as she worked at her locker combination.

"It'll be even tougher if we can't find a way to advertise you," Mary replied. She waved her hand to get Louise going, getting out of her dress, then stuck her head in the locker. Fishing out the track suit, she grunted, "Is this dirty?"

"I wore it today. And Tuesday." Louise was digging for her zipper, her arms behind her head.

Mary held the jacket up, checked it for obvious dirt and stains, and smelled the armpits. "Not too bad. We won't have to totally douse you in perfume." She held up the pants; the knees were a little scuffed, but they weren't bad. "Where's the top?"

"That white thing." Louise pointed with her nose, still fighting the dress zipper through the middle of her back.

Mary fished it out. It was round-necked, cap-sleeved -- basically, a T-shirt, made of a bit more robust fabric. It WAS whiff, though -- and smudged, too. "Hmmmm." Mary turned to the other girl and stopped dead. "Jeez, Louise, what size is that truss you're wearing?"

"Ummm, 34A/B..." Louise's heavy white bra was positively crushing her chest, and looked like it was under tremendous tension.

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"Well, yeah, some," Louise admitted. "You get used to it..."

"Why on Earth would you want to?" Mary asked, circling around behind Louise to fight the clasps.

"Uuh," Louise grunted relief, but added, "What did you do THAT for? Now I'll have to fight it back on!"