Love At It's Finest: Episode 4
Today's Saturday, I've woken up, and now I've nearly died of shock. I'm usually not the one to volunteer to wake up before 1 pm. It's ten past eight. Jason said he would pick me up at six o' clock and Abby and I planned to head to the mall at ten in the morning. Thankfully, it really doesn't take me that long to get ready to go out in public. Don't get me wrong, I do quite a bit; I just mastered getting it all done in the eight or so minutes I have each day before school. Today, though, is a weekend; which means I can take my time.
Once my assortment of Silly Bandz, my two bracelets (one a solid black with the picture of a key and the other a checkerboard of black and white), and my two paw pad-warmers, one black and one white, are all on I turn my TV on and stare off into space. Yesterday, when I'd arrived home, I'd asked my grandfather for sixty dollars to buy a new iTunes card when I "go out with a few friends." He was a bit hesitant at first, but gave in; after all, my grandparents think it's completely normal for a teenager to leave the house at least three times a week and, contrary to my mother and aunt, I've never done that in my life. Tonight at six I'll be going on my first date.
Abby drove up to my house, with her boyfriend in the driver's seat, at five-past-ten. She had told me that her boyfriend will be driving us to everywhere we need to go, but he wouldn't be going inside with us. I didn't know how he felt about that; I was okay with it, though. I bid farewell to my grandparents (my mom still out like a light, I passed on saying goodbye to her) and I get into the car. I'm not usually one for vehicles of any kind. I couldn't tell you the difference between the dashboard and the engine. This car seems like a good one though. Sleek, silver and a comfortable inside. Couldn't tell you what type of car it is though; all I know for sure is that it's a Honda. I only know that because I saw the logo on the car when I first got in.
Once I'm in, we head over to the Macy's mall in Rockefeller Center with the radio blasting. Situated in a parking space, Abby and I get out of the car and head inside. "So is this your first-ever date?" Abby asks.
"Well, yeah," I answer, my whole head feeling hotter than the Sahara.
She grins and says, "Okay, and how do you feel about suits?"
"Honestly? I can't stand them." As soon as I say that, I regret it; after all, if you're dressing formally and you don't wear a suit, then there's really only one other option. She grabs my wrist and leads me farther into the store; the Womens' Department visible just above her large, white ears. Before I could stop her, she buys a small set of bras and drags me into the handicapped dressing room stall. She hands me a bra and says, "Here, put this on; I'll see if I can find something nice for your first date." She closes the door behind her on her way out, leaving me there gaping after her with a bra in my paws.
My tail twitches nervously as I continue to stand there. The last time I'd ever put on womens' clothing was when I was four-years-old and me and my two friends put on humongous dresses and did the Can-Can with each other. That is, unless you count the uni-sex jacket I've taken to wearing to school every day. I heave an enormous sigh and examine the clasp on the bra. When Abby returns, I have the bra fastened across my chest and she's carrying a sunlight/daisy-yellow dress with spaghetti straps. My reaction is immediate. "Uh-uh, no way. I'm not wearing yellow; no matter what." She gives me an annoyed look and flicks her mousey ears back. I cross my arms and stare at her. After a beat she snaps, "Fine!" and storms out of the room.
She comes back in with five different dresses over her arm. The first one she forces over my head is a vibrant, sea green dress that falls in frilled layers to my right ankle and stops just short of my left knee; it has no shoulders. The second one I put on somewhat reluctantly. It's a hot pink dress with puffed up shoulders and it was so short it didn't even reach the halfway point of my thighs. The third dress was a rich blue, but one look at myself in the full-length mirror reminded me of a peacock who's had its feathers ruffled. The fourth dress I tried on wasn't half bad. It was a sleek, sensual little thing that was ebony black. The only problems I had with it was that it was so tight I couldn't even move half an inch and the small fact of my tail being trapped between my legs. The last one Abby convinced me to wear left me in a stunned silence. From a feminine point of view, I never thought of myself as a looker. No real curves and an average look, I was just that; average. If I really tried, I'm pretty sure I could pull off appearing male or female, but I never bothered. But this dress; I didn't even recognize myself. It was a deep, velvety red. My shoulders were covered with a thin, frilly material that looked delicate and regal. The dress flowed down my body like some rich, red wine, adding nonexistent curves to my body. It ended in the slightest slant to my right; waving beautifully around my thighs, just clearing the joint of my thighs and calves. The red of the dress also nicely complemented the black of my fur and set off the gold in my amber eyes.
"You certainly look amazing in that dress, Maer; awe inspiring," Abby commented. I didn't reply, I couldn't. "C'mon," she continued, "you're almost ready for your date."