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Heist Honey 2
🕑 Added 2022-05-11 23:00:00 +0000 UTCChloe sat sullenly in the small parlor across from Beatrice, his mind screaming at him to leave and risk living under a bridge for a while. No way could it be as bad as his day had been. When he and Beatrice had left the store instead of walking to the car she took the feminized man by the arm now that he was more appropriately dressed. “Come along, dear. We have so much more to do today.”
“Like what?”
“Shoes for one. We need a nice pair of heels to wear with your party dress and some to wear the rest of the time. While we’re out we can also fix your face.”
“My f-heels? Uh…I can’t walk in heels.” He looked at the three inch thin heel pumps the older woman beside him wore and could only see himself breaking a leg in those.
Beatrice stopped and looked the girl over for a second before asking, “Have you truly not worn heels before?”
Chloe shifted nervously and scratched at his elbow, “Uh no.”
“Not even when your mother was alive?”
“No.”
“...I see. Then we have more work to do than I thought.” The old woman took Chloe’s arm once more and pulled him in close. “I must apologize for my son. I thought I had taught him better enough that he would at least know how to raise a proper young lady.”
“I think he did, like, an okay job.” Chloe didn’t really care what Mark’s mother thought of her son but he didn’t like where this was going.
“It is very admirable to defend one’s father even when they are in the wrong. Family is very important. Nevertheless, we cannot change the past but we can certainly change your future going forward.”
“Huh?”
Beatrice sighed, she had so much work to do with this girl, “I will help mold you into a proper young lady. That cannot be done by this weekend of course but we can give you a, what is it they say, ah, a crash course, as it were, in being a debutante.”
“Debu-Wait you mean those super girly girls?!” Sam and Dale had once tricked their way into a debutante ball in New York, strictly as a lesson for Sam in how to blend in. They had to both wear a suit that could pass for both a waiter and a guest at the ball. Rich people didn’t tend to notice the help until they screwed up. Dale did okay, but Sam learned the hard way that their world was completely separate from his own. He had much more fun with the waiters anyway. He made two-hundred bucks in a game of poker and had chugged half a bottle of wine on a dare.
“Yes. I understand your father has let you run around doing as you please and that may seem like fun or even a good thing but truly he has done you a disservice. Though I will give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he was wrapped around your mother’s finger tight enough that it might have been more her doing.”
“...um…”
“More to the point; We will get you a pair of starter heels and you will do everything but bathe in them.”
“I-I’ve seen girls wear fancy shoes with no heels.”
“Yes, flats do exist. But you will look much more elegant in heels. There will be many fine young men interested in you and by the time we are done you will know which ones are worth your time.”
“Boys?” Chloe swallowed hard, he knew this old school types enough to know that saying he didn’t like boys would only make his life worse, “I-I’m not really…looking for a boyfriend right now.”
"I am not talking about a boyfriend. I'm talking about a possible suitor."
"What's the difference?"
"...a suitor is…" Beatrice stopped herself, she had to remember that her granddaughter was unfortunately dim. It would be great for finding a man who only wanted a trophy wife but at the moment it was frustrating. "Let's just say a suitor is a man you're not dating but you are talking to and having an afternoon tea with at the manor."
"...that sounds okay I guess.” The last thing he wanted to do was have some rich snob slobbering all over him.
“Good. Now that that is settled let’s continue our shopping.” Chloe couldn’t help but feel that Beatrice’s demeanor had changed. She wasn’t smiling or exactly chipper but something in the way she walked seemed much fuller than it had before as she imagined her granddaughter on the arm of Alexander Albrecht son of wealthy industrialist William Albrecht.
Chloe didn’t see Sheffield for almost an hour later, in that time they had gotten Chloe the shortest heels that he could talk his fake grandmother into, two inch white ankle strap block heels. “Are you sure it was okay to, like, leave the sandals there?”
“Oh it will be fine, they know to give everything to Sheffield.”
“But will they?”
Beatrice looked at her granddaughter for the first time with sympathy, there were few people she deemed trustworthy due to their incompetence but it sounded like Chloe did not trust anyone for much larger reasons. “The people here know better.” Chloe could almost feel Beatrice’s voice soften momentarily, “Our family name carries weight and status in most circles and the circles it doesn’t…well there is a reason we do not associate with those types.”
“...okay?”
“Now, we can give you a proper makeover to go with your new wardrobe. I take it you also have never worn makeup before?”
“No.”
Beatrice grumbled, one problem at a time, “Then this will be a lot of fun.”
It was in fact not fun for Chloe. Beatrice had led the man into a full service salon, the sexy milf washing his hair was the last moment of joy he felt before hot wax was placed over his eyebrows and quickly ripped off. Chloe screamed in pain and swore bloody vengeance on all of them. But still they persisted in their forced pampering. While Beatrice read a book quietly in the front of the building Sheffield finally returned. “We have much more work to do than I previously thought.” Beatrice informed.
“Yes, she is certainly lacking in certain areas of grace.”
“I do fear we will not be able to fix her in time for the dinner.” Beatrice sighed, turning a page in her book.
“Shall I send her somewhere so she will not embarrass you? The…mall perhaps?” Sheffield groaned as if the word itself left a bad taste in his mouth.
“No…no.” It would definitely be easier to claim her granddaughter was simply busy…but it had been so long since she had her family under one roof. “She is my granddaughter, she will learn quickly enough to pass for one night at least. Then we can continue her education and correct her on any potential mistakes she makes that night.” Beatrice didn’t let the worry she had show on her face, simply turned a page in her book and continued reading for a moment. “I trust you completed your tasks thus far?”
“I have indeed, mum. I have acquired a list of private schools in the area." Sheffield handed a small stack of brochures to Beatrice. “May I be so bold as to suggest the Pennington Academy for girls."
"It is that good?”
“They offer special tutoring for a girl of the young miss’...shortcomings.”
“I will take that into consideration, Sheffield.”
“Of course, mum.” Sheffield clicked the heels of his slick black shoes and stood at attention beside Beatrice while she read over the brief summary of the schools. By the time Chloe reemerged again Beatrice had completed her reviews and had settled on two schools. Pennington Academy being the first of course, the second being Stonewall Academy. On paper the soul difference was the lack of deportment taught at Stonewall. But it was a good enough school that that could be overlooked. And it would give her more time to spend with her new granddaughter.
Chloe swore as he walked unsteadily to the front, he had been waxed everywhere and every inch of his skin stung and felt exposed. Well, almost everywhere. He had managed to come up with the reasonable enough excuse that he was on his period as to why his crotch couldn’t be waxed. “There you are, Chloe. Doesn’t that feel better?”
Chloe grumbled as he approached the old bat, if he was sure he could do it without falling and breaking his leg he would strangle her for the hell she put him through. But, he thought better of it and the money he could fleece from her and her rich guests. “Like…totally.” He lied and forced a smile to match his aireaded voice.
“See, and you were so afraid at first. Every woman loves to be pampered.”
Through a clenched jaw he said, “Then why didn’t you get it done?”
“To tell the truth I have already had the pleasure.” Sheffield paid and followed the women after placing the brochures in his breast pocket. “I will tell you what, since we are done-”
“Oh thank god.”
Beatrice ignored the sullen teen and continued, “Why don’t the two of us do an activity together.”
“Like what?”
“An activity. Something you’ve enjoyed. Bear in mind I am a bit older than you so nothing too strenuous.”
“Alright…can we get lunch first?”
“Of course we can. Why don’t we give your father a call and we can all have lunch together.”
“No!” Chloe said louder than she meant to, he knew Mark seeing him in such a girly getup would happen sooner or later but he preferred later. “I mean…I was hoping we could get to know each other a little bit. Just the two of us.”
“Sheffield, do bring the car round.”
“Yes mum.”
Their lunch took much longer than Chloe had expected as Beatrice insisted on a fine dining restaurant and would instruct her on which fork or spoon to use for which dish. Beatrice spent the better part of the lunch explaining the etiquette of dining as a lady should. The delicious Maine lobster had certainly made the annoyances worth it. One day he would be able to eat like this whenever he wanted.
But now he had returned to his grandmother's home. And judging by the sound of loafers and dress shoes he could tell later had finally arrived. “Okay, mother. I’m here what’s going-Oh I didn’t realize you had a guest.”
Beatrice chuckled, “Do you not recognize your own daughter?” Mark stopped and looked again. His recognition was not as quick as a true parent’s would have been but slowly the stunning eyes came into focus. “Don’t be shy dear, show him what I taught you.” Chloe frowned and stood on the frighteningly tall heels and with very careful and deliberate movements he gave a small curtsey. The girl that stood before Mark was completely different from the man that left four hours ago. In addition to the startling change in clothes; Chloe’s hair was significantly longer than it was before, the tomboyish hairstyle was covered up by an intricate system of extensions that looked completely natural, the auburn locks were now well past his shoulders, a small butterfly clip keeping the hair out of his face. When he left he had a light shine to his lips, now he had butterscotch matte lipstick over his plump lips. His eyes stood out substantially more thanks to the golden hue eyeshadow and eyeliner surrounding them. His fingernails had been painted and buffed to match his lip in the same shade of matte butterscotch they now wore.
“Sa-Chloe?” Chloe frowned and nodded. “I..w..uh-”and Mark couldn’t take it anymore. He suddenly burst out laughing. Seeing the man who ruined his life downgraded to a teen debutante by his mother was too hilarious.
“Mark Alfonzo Pasini!” Beatrice shouted.
“Screw you, asshole!” Chloe pushed Mark back as he stormed out, tripping for a moment on his stupid heels he kicked them off and ran up to the stairs.
“Chloe!” Beatrice shouted. When no response came she turned her anger towards the still jovial Mark now sitting in the floor and holding his side. “You stop that right now. Have you forgotten everything you were taught? You never laugh in a young girl’s face. Especially not your daughter’s!”
“I-I’m sorry, mother.” His laughter had slowed but not stopped completely, “It’s just…it was shocking. I’ve never seen Chloe dressed like that.”
“So you laugh at her?”
“Come on, it’s not that big of a deal.”
Beatrice huffed as she glared at her son, “I knew you were misguided at times but I never thought you would be a bad father.”
“Oh come on. Don’t act like you care now. You and father did much worse than laugh at me if I did anything you thought was strange.”
“You had a better upbringing than she did.”
“Can’t say you’re wrong there.” Mark scoffed as he thought about the little street urchin Sam must’ve been, stealing from anyone and everyone just for the hell of it.
“I am pleased you agree.”
“What?”
Beatrice sighed once more, seemingly her son had forgotten his manners as well, “Chloe could do with a proper education. Especially when it comes to etiquette and decorum."
Mark rolled his eyes, Sam or Chloe, would never agree to this and it was just easier to not have to be the one to fight her, “Sure, you know what, if she agrees to it, teach her whatever you think is best.”
“And when she agrees, you will not undermine me?”
“If she agrees I’ll fart bubbles.”
“Just your support will do.” The old woman watched her son walk away, realizing she had to do something about him. She understood years apart might create a gap between a father and his daughter but it appeared as though Mark did not even like his daughter. It made sense if their breakup was much worse than he had claimed, seeing his daughter as the beautiful young woman she could have brought back old memories of the mother of his child.
Later Sheffield knocked on Chloe’s door, “Miss Chloe? Are you decent?”
“Uh...I guess so?” Opening the door Sheffield saw Chloe laying in the bed clutching a porcelain Titania, confirming in her mind what he already believed.
The older man walked to the other side of the bed where she continued to stare quietly. He watched the young girl act as if she wasn’t holding onto the queen of fairies for comfort. “If you would,” he bowed slightly, “please accompany me to the library.”
“...Why?” He asked, immediately suspicious of this man who somehow betrayed nothing. He had met people who were stone faced before but he could always detect an undercurrent of anger or malevolence.
“I wish to keep it a surprise. But I do believe it is something you shall enjoy, miss.”
Chloe stood slowly and sat the doll on the nightstand, careful not to break it. He wasn’t a fence but he had picked up a few things here and there and if he had to guess he could probably get five hundred dollars for the doll alone, possibly more. At a guess each doll was worth several hundred dollars, and he could fit two more in his bag easily, three if he was willing to risk chipping one of the dolls. “It’s not more wax is it? My face still hurts.”
“Nothing of the sort, young miss.”
Following Sheffield, Chloe entered the library. Floor to ceiling on three walls were shelves packed to the gills with books. In the center of one wall was a window that felt more at home in a cathedral than someone’s personal library. Just beneath the oversized window was a small set of spiral stairs that lead down to the ground floor and a similarly constructed library. Sheffield walked to one corner of the room and unlocked a shelf sealed off by glass then took out a thin leather-bound book before locking it back. Chloe watched the man do all of this and realized it wasn’t just one shelf sealed in glass, but an entire bookcase of glass protection. Walking to the rounded hardwood table that sat in the center of the room he placed it in front of Chloe. “Stonewall…Academy? Class of 2004?”
“Yes ma’am. Am I correct in assuming your father has never shown you this?”
“Uh, definitely not.”
Sheffield humphed happily before opening the book and turning towards the back of the book. There, in a full page splash photo was Mark and a host of other seniors dressed in ridiculous fairy costumes and colorful tights, the caption under it read in prominent letters and flourishing font “A midsummer night’s dream.” Once the realization hit of what he was looking at Chloe burst out laughing. Mark was wearing pink and purple tights and wearing a flower crown and a long white wig and pointed elf ears. Several photos were of various students at later points of the play. But a goodly portion were of Mark prancing around and smiling.
Chloe enjoyed the yearbook for the next fifteen minutes before finally calming down. All the while Sheffield betrayed no emotion as he simply watched the young feminine man enjoy himself. “I trust you are more joyvioul in spirit now, miss?”
Chloe nodded, “Yeah. That was hilarious. But, why’d you show it to me?”
“I thought it rather disrespectful of your father to mock your…burgeoning femininity. This way, you are on even footing once again.”
“Thanks…you’re alright, Chef.”
“My life’s ambition is complete.” He took out a small pocket watch made of silver and clipped it shut. “Now, if that will be all I have to get dinner started.” He held out his gloved hand awaiting the return of the book. “I trust you have no threatening allergies of which I should be made aware?”
“Not that I know of.” I do have a question before you go though,” He pointed to the glass covered bookcase after handing back the book. “What’s with those shelves? Why are all the books locked up? Are they,like, in jail?” He laughed.
“Ah.” Sheffield returned to the bookcase, this time Chloe followed closely and watched him unlock the same one as before. “The books within the glass cases are either valuable or deemed important by the madam as they pertain to her family history.”
“But…glass?”
“The glass is tempered and rated for fire and small firearms.” Sheffield slid the yearbook back into its original place and locked it shut. “The house may burn but these books shall survive.”
“...Yay?”
“If you wish to read any of the rare collections you will have to call either me, or your grandmother. The rest of the library is yours for the night.”
“Thanks.” Sheffield finally left Chloe alone. After a few minutes of waiting, to be sure he wasn’t waiting around the corner, he examined the case. The glass appeared to be thick enough that it could possibly stop bullets and sealed off enough that neither water or fire could get inside. But those were loud and noticeable methods anyway and could potentially damage the books. No, Sam preferred good old fashioned lock picks. Luckily they were in his bag with his cash. But that would have to wait. He would first need to find which books actually had value, find someone he can sell it to who wouldn’t screw him over, and secure a way out. Of course…the trophy room must have something of value, why else would they keep it off limits? And then there was a host of paintings he saw in the halls! Paintings were a real hot ticket these days and stealing them always seemed to increase their value because rich people liked the stories they could tell at parties. The cars were magnificent and if he could find someone to sell them he could be set for life. But the problem with fencing most things was the fact that any singular item of significant value would be harder to fence. It’s why no one bothered to steal things like the Mona Lisa. It was simply too valuable.
Chloe forced himself to calm down like Jared had taught him. If you went into a job wanting to take everything you can get your hands on you would absolutely get caught. “We’re not smash and grab types, kid.” He’d said, “We’re precise, quick, and we leave no trace. If we do our jobs right.…we’re ghosts.” He would do the job right. He could do it right.
That evening at dinner Chloe was tested as soon as he sat at the table. “Chloe, do you remember our conversation earlier today about etiquette?"
"Uh?" Chloe looked to Mark for help. Mark eyed Chloe before slowly eyeing his mother. Why was she acting so strange? So…nice?
"When seated at the table, your posture should always be tall and upright. Do not slouch.Roll your shoulders backward and straighten your back." Chloe adjusted himself in the seat as she had instructed, pushing his back against the chair. "Not lean against the back of the chair, Chloe."
“Because people will notice my back is touching the chair.” Chloe said sarcastically.
“Maybe not in California but here they will most certainly.”
Mark remembered the lessons his mother had drilled into his head daily. He swore when he left he would never force his children through the same hell he went through. But Chloe wasn’t his real daughter, or even a friend really. Even so, he still felt some ancient instinct inside of him that said to protect the small feminine thing sitting next to him. “Mother. I understand you want to teach her manners, but this is our first family dinner. Can we forgo formality for tonight at least?”
Mark expected a diatribe on the importance of manners at all times and how it was her duty as the matriarch to impart her wisdom to the next generation, but instead he watched his mother’s brow furrow in thought. She nodded softly and…had she almost smiled? “If she wishes to fit in it is better she get in as much practice as possible. Better an awkward dinner now than being the talk of the town later.”
“I just think-”
“Pops…it’s fine. I don’t want to, like, embarrass grandmother.”
Mark sighed, “Very well.”
“Now that that is settled.” She waved a hand and Sheffield approached the table with a small trolley holding three bowls of soups which he distributed among the family. “Now, Chloe, which spoon is the soup spoon?” Chloe looked at the assortment of silver silverware and picked the far right spoon. “Good.” She smiled as if he had solved a rubik's cube with his eyes closed when really there were only two spoons and he simply took a guess. “Now. How do you eat soup properly?” Chloe paused for a minute, was there a wrong way to eat soup? As long as you got it in your mouth it was the right way to him…but rich people were weird. He extended his pinky and dipped the spoon in his soup before bringing it to his lip and slurped loudly. The soup was actually the most delicious he had ever tasted in his life, but the disgruntled look on Beatrice’s face told him he had done something wrong. “Wrong. We do not slurp our soup. Watch your father.”
Mark stopped, wet spoon in hand, when they both turned to look at him intently. He rolled his eyes and dipped his spoon into the soup once again, sliding it slowly across the rim of the bowl before bringing it directly up and to his mouth. He never liked eating like he was at a society dinner but it was hard to break himself of the manners he had drilled into him as a child. “Now, you try.” She told the feminized man. Chloe repeated the motions simply, not as elegantly or as practiced as Mark’s but well enough that he wasn’t chastised. ‘It’s just another tool.’ He thought. He had heard the old hats talking about ‘college’ and picking up a new tool of the trade while in prison but he had fortunately never been arrested. He always had Jared to learn from and bail him out when needed. Beatrice wasn’t as lax as Jared was when it came to training his skills. All through dinner he was tested and chastised for each indiscretion, like when he used a fish fork when he was meant to use the salad fork.
After dinner wasn’t much better for Chloe. Chloe was forced to work on walking properly, especially in heels. His platform wedges were easiest to adapt to even with the book she had Sheffield placed on his head. But when those were switched out for his newly acquired three inch heels he found he had the coordination of a drunken water buffalo. “No! No!” Beatrice shouted from her seat in the parlor. “One does not clomp in heels!” She stomped her own heeled feet in the same way Chloe had. “You must glide.” With book on his head once again, Chloe took long slow steps, holding his hands near the book to catch it when it once again fell. “Your gait is much too large.”
“You keep saying that but I don’t know what it means.” He tossed the book on the small fainting couch beside Beatrice. “And it’s impossible with this stupid book on my head!”
Sighing, Beatrice stood up and took the book in hand and gently affixed it to the top of her own head. Chloe watched as she crossed the room almost magically, keeping the large book from shifting in the slightest. Reaching one wall she took a book from the shelf and placed it on top of the first before walking back to her chair and placing her glass of wine on top of the two books. The wine hardly shifted in the glass as she made three circles around the parlor. “Trust me when I tell you everything you are going through, I have been through as well. I was much younger than you when I began my lessons but I was exactly like you when I was a child and thought it impossible.”
“Not exactly.” He mumbled under his breath. Sheffield briefly cocked an eyebrow at Chloe who sat in a very unladylike manner on the couch and rubbed his leg while Beatrice returned the glass of wine and book she had picked up in her short travel.
“Chloe!” She shouted. “Absolutely not.”
“What?” Chloe’s legs were spread wide while he rubbed at his calf muscle. He never considered himself a weakling but hours of walking in four inch heels was wearing down his thin calf muscles like he had never felt before. Beatrice snapped the boy’s knees together. “Fuck!” he shouted as his legs snapped shut unexpectedly on his balls.
“Language!”
Chloe was about to snap again when Sheffield cleared his throat, “Perhaps it is best the young miss retire and ruminate on today’s lessons.”
Beatrice looked at the clock on the mantle which read shortly after ten, “Very well. Perhaps she will do better with some rest.”
“Thank God.” Chloe reached to unbuckle her heels but was immediately stopped by Beatrice.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking off my shoes for bed?”
“Chloe, we do not have much time to accustom you to wearing heels and due to that fact you are to stay in your heels unless you are bathing.”
“What?” He shouted, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“I assure you, I am not. You will leave them on unless either myself or Sheffield instructs you otherwise. Understood?”
“That’s insane!” Chloe stood on shaky legs.
“Trust me, you’ll thank me come this weekend.”
“Doubtful.” Chloe stomped out of the parlor, looking every bit the angry teenage girl he was pretending to be. Although unintentionally.
As soon as he was up the stairs, and sure she nor Sheffield were following, he ripped the heels off and walked down the hall stopping at Mark’s room. Mark’s room was set up more like he would expect a college dorm to be. A single king sized bed in one corner, a writing desk with several books and papers, a small shelf on the wall holding a half dozen trophies and ribbons over his bed, a flat screen television built into the wall and two speakers in the far corners. So not exactly like a college dorm. “Your mother is nuts!” Chloe yelled, throwing the shoes in the floor, bouncing in the circular rug in the center of the room as they did.
Mark turned around in his desk chair and it cracked with age. “I did warn you.”
“Not like this you didn’t!” he insisted as he flopped onto Mark’s bed. “She wants me to wear heels all the time.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t want to get used to it. These things are a bitch and a half.”
“You’re the one who wanted to be a girl, Sam.”
“It’s not like I had much of a choice. I just got screwed by the universe.”
“If you want I can-” Mark was interrupted by Sheffield once again clearing his throat.
“Young miss. Is there something wrong with your room?”
Chloe sat up immediately at his voice. How long had he been there? He didn’t even hear him approaching. How could he have gotten that close without him hearing? “Uh-uh…no. I was just saying good night to pops.” Chloe stood and waved awkwardly. “Uh…g’night. Pops.”
“G’night…kiddo.” Mark waved back. “Oh, S-Chloe. Your shoes.”
Chloe groaned as he bent at the waist to pick them up, “Thanks.”
As he walked the young woman back to her room Sheffield took stock of how she moved so inelegantly. “Young madam, if I may say, what your grandmother is attempting to teach you may be difficult for someone such as yourself but I do believe you will appreciate it in the long run.”
‘What the hell is he talking about?’ “Maybe. But I’ll never be able to do what she did.”
“I do not doubt with time and practice you could. But, and forgive me if I offend, but you have a…mannish way of walking.”
“I don’t…I don’t know what you mean. I-I’m not a man so I can’t possibly.” Chloe gripped the door knob to his temporary room, ready to barricade himself inside to buy himself time to escape if he needed to.
“Of course not. Perhaps I was mistaken.”
“Yeah. You were.”
“Very well. Good night, young miss.” Sheffield clicked his heels together and walked away.
“G’night.” Chloe quickly locked the door behind him as soon as he entered.
The next morning, sunlight quickly filled the ultra-feminine room through the open curtains. Chloe’s face scrunched involuntarily as the sudden beams of light hit his face. “Good morning, Chloe.” Sheffield said loudly, scaring the sleeping man in the girl’s bed as he threw open the curtains.
Chloe screamed, “What the hell?!” As he fell backwards out of bed and pulled the covers around him to hide his half naked form. “What are you-how did you get in here?!”
“I have a master key for every room, of course.”
“Why’d you use it on my room?!”
“Because the door was locked.”
“No, why’d you…let me put it another way. What if you saw something I didn’t want you to see…because I’m, like, naked or something?”
“I assure you, miss, I have no such intentions of seeing you naked. But I have seen your grandmother naked plenty when I’ve helped her out of the bath and have changed many infants in my time.”
“Okay…let’s try again. You’re a grown man, right?”
“I am indeed.”
“And I’m a teen girl, right?”
“Of course.”
“Do you think it is proper for an older man to enter a young girl’s room without permission?”
Sheffield thought for a moment before answering, “You are correct. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” Chloe dropped his head on his extremely soft bed, he just wanted to lay in it forever but doubt he could fall back asleep now.
“I shall see to it that I bring you an alarm clock for tomorrow morning.”
“Great.”
“For now, however, you must begin your studies.”
“Okay. Wait, what studies?"
“More etiquette lessons of course. So be sure to put your heels back on after your bath. I have taken the liberty of running for you.”
“Ugh…do I really have to?”
“It has benefits.”
“For impressing rich old people.”
“Yes. As well as aiding you in becoming the beautiful young woman you wish to be.”
“I guess…wait…” Looking up Chloe discovered Sheffield had left his room. “Rich people are weird.”
It took a minute but Chloe found a bathrobe in his closet and eventually found the bathroom. The bathroom itself could fit two full sized Buicks.And then the bathtub was big enough he could lay flat in on the bottom and still have room to move. But it was now filled to the point of spilling with bubbles that smelled like sweet blossoms. Taking a moment to check the water he found it still pleasantly warm.
Every now and again he and Jared would get enough money for a hotel and they could shower, otherwise they had to sneak into a truckstop with showers. Even though it had been awhile since they had to scrounge like that, the image of fat and wet naked truckers still burned into his memory. There were pros and cons to the life they led, but that moment certainly ranked top among the con side of things. Lowering himself into the warm bubbly water he smiled, even in the best of times they had never gotten to enjoy such luxury. Slowly, as the warm water enveloped his body, his eyes grew heavier and heavier until ultimately his head came to rest on the side of the tub under a stack of pink bubbles.
After forty-five minutes a quick but firm knock rapped upon the door, “Miss Chloe, do not forget we have a schedule to keep today.”
Chloe sat up in the tub, kicking water over the side as he did, “I-okay. I’ll be out in a minute.” He spit a mass of bubbles out of his mouth and wiped his face with the now cold water before quickly climbing out of the tub and wrapping the incredibly plush towel around his waist. Peeking out of the bathroom door he saw Sheffield a short distance away with his back towards him. Scurrying quickly across the hallway he touched the knob to his room and heard “Young miss?” With a high shriek Chloe rushed into the room and slammed the door behind him, making sure to lock it as well.
Chloe tried to dress quickly, but found the shortalls he wore yesterday were gone. The only thing remaining was his shirt. Grabbing it and the bra and small breast forms the saleswoman gave him yesterday he slid them on first, fighting to get the forms to sit just right so they’d look natural. Followed by the closest thing to pants he could find. A skort. Stepping out of his room he saw Sheffield awaiting by the door, immediately appraising him. “No.”
“What?”
“Your grandmother will not approve of this outfit.”
“It’s comfortable.” He lied, it was too light and too exposed for it to be comfortable for him. The only plus from yesterday was the fact they waxed his legs smooth or he would’ve looked like a satyr.
“Your grandmother is already frustrated that you took so long in the bath. Do you wish to upset her further?”
“I don’t care if she yells at me.” Chloe tried to push past Sheffield but found him as still as the statue he often pretended to be.
“Madam does not believe in raising her voice. She prefers alternate methods.”
“She can try.” Chloe scoffed and this time when he pushed Sheffield out of the way he allowed it to happen.
Downstairs Chloe was greeted with an immediate look of disapproval from Beatrice. “This is what you believe to be appropriate wear for a family breakfast?”
“Yeah-yes ma’am.” His confidence immediately shaken at the stern voice of the cold woman.
“Very well.” Beatrice approached the small feminine man, “I gave you leeway yesterday because you were new and because of your hardships but this dinner is very important to our family. And if you wish to be a part of our family you must meet the standards I set forth. Understood?”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“So long as you are under my roof you will. Or, you and your father can find other accommodations.”
“You’d kick us out just because I don’t dress right?”
“Not immediately, I will not fault you for failing so long as you try, I am not the monster your father makes me out to be, but our family is a historied one and it is important we uphold the ideals my grandfather set.”
The warmth of the bath water and the soft caress of the robe against his smooth skin came to mind. He needed a place to lay low, and while he could find another place he couldn’t count on a decent one with his current ID or for Mark to not just call the cops if they were to be thrown out. “I-I’ll try…grandmother. I just…I don’t know anything about the fancy clothes you bought me.”
“Did your mother not teach you?”
He shook his head, in the rattling of his brain an idea came to him, “And…pops said it didn’t matter.”
“Did he now?” He shook his head, Mark could be his scapegoat, after all she was used to him being a disappointment by now and would be less likely to bring it up to him. “Well, from now on you will learn from me. For now, go upstairs and ask Sheffield to help you pick an outfit if you need it.”
“O-okay.” Chloe turned on his bare feet and hurried back up the stairs where he found Sheffield waiting in his room laying out a pastel pink polka dot sundress. “What are you doing?”
“I took the liberty of preparing you a dress for today. It is going to be unseasonably warm today so I chose something lighter.”
“Thanks, but, like, I can get myself dressed.”
“Of course, young miss. It was merely a suggestion. I will be outside if you do require any assistance.” Sheffield left the room, pulling the door closed behind him as he stopped and stood guard.
In the hall he could clearly hear the woman of the house speaking bruskly to Mark. “Did you truly tell your daughter that her appearance didn’t matter?”
“No. But it really doesn’t.”
“Perhaps for you and other men, you can dress however you wish and still get respect but a woman has to go out of her way to be respected.”
“Mother, it’s not the sixties anymore. Plenty of women dress less than fashionable and are still respected.”
“Those women have other attributes your daughter lacks.”
“Just what are you implying?”
“God blesses some of us with beauty or brains. I was blessed with both. But your daughter was blessed with beauty alone. Therefore it is important she plays to her strengths. The rest we can possibly teach her but I wouldn’t hang my hat on it.”
“Fine. If she’s okay with you painting her like one of your dolls then I won’t stop you.”
“You said that before, but I don’t need you to just stay out of the way.”
“Then what?”
“You need to encourage her too.”
“That’s not really my thing. If she wants to be a girly girl then I won’t stop her but I’m not going to f-”
“If I may, sir.” Sheffield interrupted as he stood in the doorway, “Encouragement can be something as simple as telling her what a beautiful young woman she is when she dresses more femininely. And at most, reminding her to sit more properly if she should forget.” Sheffield’s jaw somehow stiffened more as he spoke again, “That is the very least a father can do for his daughter.”
Mark glared at the butler in spats, “Fine. I’ll encourage her to be a proper young girl. Now if you don’t mind I have to update my resume’.”
“Are you looking for a job on the internet?”
“I’m posting it there, yes. And emailing it to a few companies who will hopefully give me a chance.”
“If you need a job that badly I know of an executive position at the firm you would be well suited for.”
Mark considered this for a moment, while he was desperate for work he wasn’t so desperate that he would willingly put himself further in his mother’s debt. “No, thank you, mother. I am sure I can manage on my own.”
As she turned to leave she stopped in the doorway, “Remember…you’re not on your own anymore. You have Chloe. And you will always have me.” Mark turned to give his mother a confused look but she had already left. What was going on with her?
In the parlor once again Chloe sat on the couch while Sheffield knelt in front of her. “Now, Chloe,” Beatrice started explaining, “I gave some thought to why you were so uncoordinated yesterday and I believe it is because you learned too much from your father.” Sheffield carefully cinched a leather belt around Chloe’s thighs, forcing them together and once again squishing his hidden manhood. “With that in mind we do not have much time to fix you.”
“So you’re tying my legs together?!” Chloe pulled the hem of the pink polka dotted dress down further to help hide his exposed thighs in vein.
“More or less. This will force you to walk and sit appropriately.”
“How long do I have to wear this?”
“Like your heels you will wear them unless you are bathing. I trust you will put each on appropriately after we select your clothes for the day. If not, Sheffield is well versed in dealing with temperamental children.” Chloe looked to Sheffield, hoping to find a look of sympathy but all he found was the same stoic face as before. “Neither of us take pleasure in punishing you.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
“That reminds me, Sheffield, after our walk see to it that the solarium is prepared. We will be holding our elocution lessons there.”
“Election?” He asked as Sheffield helped the disguised and bound man to stand.
“Elocution.” She said as if that explained everything.
“Wait, we’re going for a walk?”
“Yes. Just around the grounds. It will give us more time to get to know one another. Come along.” She hummed, holding out one hand. At first he intended not to take the old woman’s hand, but when he immediately stumbled with his first attempted step he decided to swallow his pride a little bit and held on to the old woman. The first few minutes of their walk was incredibly slow going, between the belt and the five inch heels. “Once you acclimate to these, your four inch slingbacks will be no problem.” She promised as Chloe took another unsteady step on the gravel path.
“What happens if I have to run?”
“Why on earth would you need to run?”
“Nevermind.”
Minutes passed before Beatrice asked another question, “Tell me, Chloe. What do you wish to be?”
“Whatta ya mean?” His voice shook as the stiletto slipped slightly on a rock.
“When you…grow up, let’s say.”
“You mean like a job? I haven’t really thought about that. But I like to tr-travel.” His ankle slipped again and somehow holding onto the much older woman in similar heels gave him more support than he expected.
“There are a few careers that would afford you to travel the world. But I was asking more about a dream you had. For instance, when I was a little girl I dreamed of being a violinist.”
“Are you?”
“Oh yes. I even played a few concerts. Some in New York, some in London. Even once in Italy.”
“Why aren’t you still playing?”
“I do on occasion. But when I married your grandfather I put my violin away and took up being a mother.”
“That must’ve sucked.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. You were traveling the world then you kinda got s-screwed,” another rock left him unbalanced and shaken, “because you married some rich guy and had a kid.”
“Is that what you believe?”
“Isn’t it?”
She looked away for a moment in silence before turning back to her young granddaughter, “We are getting off subject. Do you have a dream like that?”
“Eh…I thought when I was little I could be a dancer.”
“Can you dance?”
Chloe laughed, “Not at all. I’m not graceful at all.” Sam had never wanted to be a dancer, but he knew plenty of girls were obsessed with pop stars when he was a kid that had elaborate dances in every music video. Or they were obsessed with being a ballerina.
They continued their slow walk, casually discussing his childhood dreams, while Beatrice gave few but helpful hints on how to carry himself in heels, she asked how life was with his mother, and for the most part he was honest. Only substituting a few things for what he believed a young girl would have wanted. For his mother, he told a few of the nicer memories he had in foster care before ultimately he ran away.
After they returned to the manor, Chloe hated to admit it but walking on the smooth marble floor was much easier after their hour-long walk on uneven gravel. His heels were stained with dirt or grass where his heels stabbed through the dirt or slipped through the small rocks. Beatrice’s however barely showed their morning activities. Even though he hated it he had to admire her skill. He knew more than a few second story men who’d love to have her grace and sure footing.
With the belt still tied around his thighs Chloe followed Beatrice into the dining room. Without her hand to hold he still found his balance to be teetering. Holding his hand out made it more manageable somehow. Similarly holding the other one out helped, putting him and Mark both in mind of tightrope walkers. Chloe’s pride spread across his face. He always loved figuring out something with as little help as possible. As he always had done, he looked to Jared with a satisfied smile, but he wasn’t there this time. Beatrice had replaced him. They both held the same small approving eyes. “Much better, Chloe.” She nodded. Jared rarely doled out compliments, believing that was how thieves got sloppy. But the first time he was able to hotwire a car in thirty seconds he smiled and told him he had done a good job.
Mark watched the exchange between his mother and this man pretending to be his daughter and rolled his eyes. Sheffield held the chair out for Chloe as he considered how to sit with the belt around his thighs. Nervously, looking to Sheffield the man subtly bent his knees and lowered himself ever-so-slightly. Taking the hint, Chloe turned around carefully, bent her knees and carefully lowered his butt until he felt the seat underneath him. Turning around in the seat he faced the table with a smile. “That was a good start, Chloe. But, do remember to mind your skirt next time.” He looked beneath him and sure enough it was bunched up around his hip, exposing the side of his white panties to Mark. Quickly he jerked the hem forward to cover himself. Mark shook his head and chuckled quietly. “Now, this morning we are doing things a bit differently. As you are aware, we have little time to help you prepare for the fundraiser. With that in mind we will be taking the carrot and stick approach to this morning’s breakfast.”
“Okay…so I’m eating carrots?”
“No. Sheffield has made you eggs, a grapefruit, and sausage.”
“Alright, chef!” He cheered excitedly and grabbed a link of sausage.
“Chloe.” Beatrice chastised him but it was Sheffield that slapped the sausage out of his hand. “Firstly, the rules; you will eat like a lady or you will not eat.”
“What?”
“A lady does not grab at food with her hand like an unintelligent monkey.” Before he could react Sheffield had taken up the small plate of sausage and placed it on the trolley cart behind him.
“What the h-”
“You have already lost your meat for this morning because of your outbursts. Do you wish to forfeit your eggs next?”
His stomach roared, “N-no ma’am.”
“Good. Now what is the first thing a young lady must do before she eats?”
Chloe thought for a moment. Looking to Mark for help he found none, just his smug smile while he ate a delicious piece of sausage. He gave the plates in front of him a quick once over, there were few forks and knives, and only a single spoon. Swallowing hard he took a guess and sat up in his seat, making sure to roll his shoulders back without touching the chair’s back. When Beatrice said nothing he slowly reached for the fork and knife on the side of the small plate. Nothing was said as he picked them up and began cutting into his eggs. “Wrong.”
The plate was quickly taken out of his hand, fork, knife, and sunny side eggs and all. “Wait!” He shouted. “Come on! I don’t know this stuff, this isn’t fair.”
“We discussed it at length last night and at lunch. Plenty of time for you to commit it to memory.” Beatrice wiped her mouth with her napkin softly, “Now, once again. What is the first thing a proper young lady does when she sits down to eat?”
His stomach growled again, if this bitch took even the grapefruit he might just eat her! Watching her carefully he reached to the side of the plate and picked up the bourbon colored cloth napkin and laid it in his lap. “Good. Now you may eat what is left of your breakfast.”
He grumbled as he pulled the small plate of grapefruit to him, “Can I get the rest back?”
“No. But if you remember well at lunch perhaps we can have an ice cream.” Angrily he stabbed into his grapefruit with his spoon as he started to eat, “Chloe, it is hardly becoming of a young lady to pout at the breakfast table.” Chloe glared up at the old woman, “If you can not find it in you to smile then you may be excused with no breakfast at all.”
‘First chance I get, I’m outta here.’ He thought as he forced a smile on his face. He slowly ate his grapefruit with a plastered on smile while Beatrice and Mark ate in silence.
After breakfast Beatrice took Chloe to the parlor once again and made him walk laps around the interior. Once she was satisfied that he could at least stand upright she placed a book on his head. He did not fare much better at first, for some reason thinking lengthening his stride was the answer again. The first slap of leather across his heel dropped him, more in surprise than pain. When he looked up again he saw Beatrice holding a riding crop. “What do you think you’re doing you bi-”
“Think twice before you finish that slur, young lady. I warned you this morning we would be implementing the carrot and stick approach. This,” She held up the short riding crop, “is the stick. We use it on horses so they do not lollygag or get distracted. It should be just as useful on you and feels nothing more than a light slap.”
“It felt way worse than that!” He lied, it didn’t but he also didn’t want this old bat beating him with some farm equipment, even if it meant another blow to his male pride.
“Do not lie to me child. My mother did the same to me when I was far younger than you.” She tucked the crop under her arm and held out a hand for the frustrated feminine boy. “Now, let’s start again.” Chloe struggled to stand on his own for a minute, but found it impossible to stand without help when he couldn’t move his legs apart. Finally he relented and took her hand. Amazingly she pulled him up with relative ease. She replaced the book on his head and tapped his butt once more with the riding crop. Silently he circled the parlor, finding the only way to move without dropping the book was to take small, almost mincing, steps. The riding crop didn’t act as a reminder for just his feet but any time she caught his smile failing she’d slap it against his backside.
It took the better part of an hour but eventually he got the hang of how he was expected to walk. Once she believed this to be the case she sent Chloe to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water without spilling a drop and bring it to her in the upstairs library. This took several attempts alone as he wasn’t allowed to remove the book from his head either and the stairs proved more difficult with his new restraints. Finally after he had carried three gallons of water in a single glass at a time she allowed him to sit beside her while she drank the water he brought, offering him none.
Afterwards she brought him to the solarium. The solarium was a thirty by fifteen foot room with angled glass as its roof and the entire outerwall was large pane glass that overlooked the backyard garden. Several green plants hung from the small rafters above, enjoying the warmth of the sun and adding color to the otherwise mute room. Two wicker chairs faced each other with a small wicker table between the two and a stack of books and magazines. Chloe briefly wondered if she had read even half of the books in the house before he was instructed on how to sit in the chair. He thought he would have a moment to relax before she began but the subtle creak of the weak chair beneath him brought a steely glare from Beatrice and an explanation on how exactly a proper young lady sits.
Chloe's stomach growled at him the rest of the morning, several times his stomach growled loudly enough to be heard over himself while he practiced speaking. After doing vocal warm ups he was forced to recite several poems until he had the proper inflection that a young lady should. “ I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, to pause?”
“Topaz.”
“Topaz, or arrow of carnations that propergate
“Propagate.”
“Right, Propagate fire: I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.” A sharp slap of wood against his bare shin reminded him to sit up straight and not hunch over as he read from the book.
“Start again.” She ordered. He read it once more, she would correct either his posture or his projection if not his grammatical shortcuts he was used to using. “A child mumbles because she is afraid of punishment. If you wish to speak like a child, expect to be treated like one.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Very well. Let’s move on to something more fun.” She took the book, placing it on the small table in the warmly lit room before handing another book to Chloe.
“‘Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths. Enwrought with golden and silver light.The blue and the dim and the dark cloths of night and light and the half light. I would spread the cloths under your feet…’ This is fun?”
“You’ll appreciate it in time. Continue. No slouching.” So the rest of his morning continued, by lunch his shins were red but he no longer needed to be reminded to sit with proper posture.
Lunch was a thick crab bisque and a small glass of…green sludge. “What is this?” He pointed to the glass of sludge.
“That. Is wheat grass. It has a whole host of benefits, not limited to weight loss but if you cannot remember your meal time manners then it is perhaps the only food you may be getting at dinner as well.” As if taking his cue, Chloe grabbed the napkin and placed it delicately in his lap. “Better. Now, what comes next?” Chloe thought for a minute and picked up the singular spoon carefully and watched Beatrice as he dipped it into the soup. He slid the bottom of the spoon slowly against the rim of his bowl before bringing it up and then brought himself to the spoon before quietly slipping it inside his mouth. Every motion he would look towards Beatrice to ensure he wasn’t about to do something wrong and lose his lunch on top of his breakfast. The soup was a warm and delicious reprieve from the drafty house even after spending so much time in the solarium.
“Do not forget your juice.” Beatrice reminded as she calmly ate her soup.
“Ugh…”
“Ah, ah, ah. Smile.” She corrected. Chloe hadn’t been given anything to drink today outside of the apple juice he had this morning. He wouldn’t understand why it was that even the disgusting sludge would satisfy his body of its thirst. But even still with all of its replenishing vitamins and minerals it was foul and noxious on his tongue.
“Blech! It tastes like yard clippings.”
“The proper phrase you are looking for is, ‘Thank you for the meal, it was much appreciated.’ Not ‘Blech’. Now, wipe your mouth.”
“Thank you for the meal.” He wiped the napkin across his lip, happy to remove the green mustache.
“It needs work. But we will move on with the rest of the afternoon’s lessons.”
“What else is there? I read poetry until I was blue in the face. I walked miles around the house, inside and out.”
“Yes and you still have much to practice, but for the rest of the afternoon we will be teaching you makeup.”
“Makeup?!”
“Yes, you did not think we didn’t notice your plain face this morning?”
“Um…I didn’t think about it?”
“That will be the last time you don’t. I sent Sheffield out during our lessons this morning to get you a beginner kit of makeup. Today I will answer any questions you may have about makeup, no matter how obvious you may think them, and you of course won’t be punished for failing. But tomorrow you must be able to at least put on a passable amount of makeup for an outing tomorrow.”
“Where are we going tomorrow?”
“Somewhere special, but beneficial.”
“...you won’t make me wear the belt will you?” he forced a smile as he asked.
“That depends on your attitude until then, doesn't it? Now, follow me.” She stood with her ever present grace and walked up the stairs, completely expecting Chloe to follow. Which he did after a moment when he remembered the sting of her whip.
The rest of the afternoon Chloe spent in makeup. Beatrice didn’t just paint his face once and leave him be. No, after she prettied up his face she washed it off, scrubbing it thoroughly and instructed him on how to do it. Whenever he made a single mistake he had to wash it off himself and begin again. “Too many girls your age have clogged pores because they forget to properly wash your face.” She told him. He didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, and he didn’t really care. At that moment all he could think about was how hungry he was, but he kept the smile on his face anyway. “After dinner we will discuss your nightly routine. If one exists.”
By dark, they were informed that dinner was ready by Sheffield over the intercom system. Sheffield stood in the kitchen, looking into the dining room he could see the contemptible Mark sit at his usual seat reading a paper. He wanted to give him the biggest piece of his mind for how he had treated Chloe in the short two days he had seen. No matter his troubles Sheffield did not think it right he took them out on her. It was a father’s job to silently carry those burdens so his children can remain happy. Even if he did not agree with her life choices his first concern should be her happiness. All this he would say, if only it were his purpose to discipline the father and not the child. The best thing he could do for the young miss was help her, even if that meant helping her deceive the madam.
Comments
SG
My favorite, too.
Nicegent42
Wonderful ans absolutely worth the top tier to get a story dine every month.
