ds1000
patreon
The Heiress 14
🕑 Added 2024-01-01 16:44:11 +0000 UTCChapter 14: The Price of Pretence
All stole a glance as a long-legged blonde temptress, once known as Brain Marshall, navigated the sun-drenched streets of Los Angeles with a grace that belied the inner turmoil churning beneath his flawlessly made-up facade. The sturdy click of his six-inch heels, a sound he had grown accustomed to, provided a rhythmic counterpoint to the cacophony of the bustling city. Shielded behind designer sunglasses, his heavily made-up eyes, weighed down by luscious lash extensions, squinted against the glaring sun. Despite the discomfort, he embodied the persona of Roxy Devine – a pretentious, social climbing Barbie doll, like a seasoned pro.
Each step he took in those towering heels was a marvel. Weeks ago, the very thought of standing in such footwear would have seemed ludicrous, yet now he glided along with a girlish wiggle, the embodiment of femininity that he had been moulded into.
Despite his adeptness in these shoes, beneath the surface, Brian's core – his thoughts, his fears, his hopes – remained untouched, buried beneath layers of forced femininity. While everything was supposedly reversible, a persistent doubt gnawed at him, hinting that some aspects of Roxy might linger long after his quest to uncover the truth about Cameron Montgomery’s disappearance.
The sensation of long hair brushing against his neck and the swing of earrings with each stride were constant companions these days. As he clicked along, Brian’s mind was preoccupied with the impending late lunch, where he planned to probe for more clues. His thoughts ran in circles, pondering the questions he needed to ask, the information he desperately sought.
Nearing the restaurant, Brian felt a chill brush against his bare legs, sparking a moment of self-awareness. Wrapped in a thick coat, he was surprised to find the cold still biting at him, a peculiar sensation given the warmer climate of Los Angeles compared to the cold he was accustomed to in Reno during this time of year. He pondered this persistent chill, attributing it to the extreme weight loss that had significantly slimmed down his physique. His body, now thinner than he ever remembered, seemed more susceptible to the cool air.
Adding to his discomfort was the fashionably revealing clothing he was compelled to wear. Today's ensemble was a particularly strikingly bright example: a teeny tiny orange miniskirt, paired with a strapless top, more suited to turning heads than providing any practicality. The skirt, clinging snugly around his hips, was intentionally short, designed to draw attention in a way that made him feel both conspicuous and exposed.
(See image 27)
Brian approached the restaurant, teetering on the edge of discomfort and self-consciousness, his feet throbbing in protest. The ordeal of parking his flashy yellow car in an underground lot a few blocks away, followed by the walk in those unrelenting ankle-crippling shoes, had left him with a dull, persistent ache. As he reached the entrance, the maître-d greeted him with a knowing look. "Good afternoon, I’m here to meet..." Brian began, but the man smoothly interjected, "Mr. Stark. He’s waiting for you at his usual table. If you’d care to follow me, Miss Devine."
The welcome took Brian by surprise, and he managed a slight smile, his bloated, pillowy lips constrained by the stiffness of Botox and fillers. He followed the maître-d through the restaurant, his high-heeled feet clicking assertively against the floor, each step a measured performance in grace and discomfort. The family-owned Mediterranean restaurant was a blend of opulence and style, adorned with lush greenery and intricate decor that reflected the affluence of its clientele. Brian navigated past elegantly dressed patrons, his posture rigid yet graceful, the high heels accentuating the sway of his hips beneath the constricting miniskirt. Soon, he was led onto a patio area, where Tod Stark rose to meet him.
"Roxy, you look beautiful. I’m so glad you could make it," Tod greeted, his eyes briefly scanning Brian's shapely legs before leaning in for a cheek kiss. "Thank you for inviting me," Brian responded, feeling the roughness of Tod's stubble against his overly plump lips while leaving a faint red stain on the man's cheek. He quickly changed the subject, " This is a beautiful restaurant,” he added, casting his dramatically made-up eyes around the elegantly designed patio.
“My family have been coming here for years. The food is delicious. Oh, I hope you're hungry,” Tod suddenly remarked, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “It is a bit late for lunch but too early for dinner. But it’s the only gap I’ve got in my schedule today, I’m afraid.”
“It’s no problem. You’re obviously a very busy and important man,” Brian responded, subtly stroking Tod's ego as he sat down, carefully manoeuvring the hem of his miniskirt to avoid exposing too much. Despite the hunger pangs gnawing at him - due to his strict diet to maintain Roxy's svelte figure, Brian knew he would have to settle for a small meal and feign satisfaction.
As they settled into conversation, the initial awkwardness soon dissipated, replaced by a more relaxed exchange. Tod, taking the lead, did most of the talking and ordering, while Brian played the role of a vacant, agreeable companion – nodding, giggling, and occasionally asking a trivial question, perfectly playing the part Evelyn and Carly had crafted him for.
About twenty minutes into their meal, Brian sensed an opportunity to steer the conversation. Removing his designer sunglasses with his immaculately manicured white nails, he took a sip from his orange cocktail, unintentionally matching his outfit. “So, in your message, you said you might be able to help me?” he asked, fluttering his long lashes in an attempt at flirtation, though his execution fell slightly short of the seductive mark Evelyn had trained him for.
(See image 28)
Tod hesitated, his gaze lingering on Brian's elaborately done face. "You know, after our last talk, I realized I didn't quite give you the whole picture about Cameron," he confessed, pausing momentarily to survey their surroundings with a cautious eye.
Intrigued and somewhat on edge, Brian leaned forward, maintaining the façade of an inquisitive, somewhat naive socialite. "Oh? What do you mean?" he inquired, his voice laced with feigned innocence yet underscored by a genuine hunger for information.
Tod leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "The truth is, there's a part of the story I haven't shared with anyone – not even the police," he confided, his eyes flicking back and forth as if to ensure their privacy. "But I need to know how invested you are in this, Roxy. This isn't just idle gossip – it's serious." His tone was earnest, hinting at the gravity of what he was about to reveal.
Brian's pulse quickened, a flutter of anticipation under the layers of his feminine attire. He leaned in, his meticulously styled blonde hair framing his carefully made-up face. "What's troubling you, Tod?" Brian urged, offering a reassuring smile, his plump, glossy lips parting gently. "You can trust me. I'm here for you," he added, his voice soft and empathetic.
Tod, after a brief pause, returned the smile, a glint of trust in his eyes. "I'm really glad to hear you say that, Roxy. There's just something about you... I feel like I can open up," he admitted. His expression grew serious as he leaned in closer. I believe Cameron was taken!"
Brian's heart skipped a beat, and he leaned in even closer, his voice a hushed whisper tinged with urgency. "Taken? By who?" he inquired, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and curiosity.
Tod's eyes darted around nervously. "Quiet," he hissed, the fear evident in his eyes. "We need to be careful. You never know who's listening around here."
Brian nodded, a shiver of excitement mingling with apprehension. "I understand, sorry," he whispered, his voice soft with apology. "But why haven't you told the police about your suspicions?"
Tod exhaled deeply, his gaze shifting away momentarily before locking back onto Brian. "It's complicated," he began, his voice tinged with a mix of regret and frustration. "There are things at play here that go beyond what you see on the surface." His words hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. “In fact, perhaps this was a bad idea. Forget I said anything. I’m sorry.”
"No, please,” Brian implored, reaching across to gently stroke the back of the man’s hand with his feminine fingers. “If you know something, please tell me. It’s not healthy to bottle these things up.”
"I need to be sure I can trust you," Tod replied, squeezing Brian's hand.
"You can trust me," Brian answered, giving the man his most sincere look – which, due to the Botox, just resembles his normal look but with a bit more of a pout. "How can I prove it to you?"
"Well, I have a hotel room nearby," Tod replied as Brian felt the soft material of the man's pants brush against his bare leg. "Perhaps we can get to know each other a little better, and then talk some more?"
Brian experienced a moment of intense internal conflict. The decision to follow Tod to his hotel room was fraught with implications he was hesitant to confront. He knew that Tod might have certain expectations, expectations that made him deeply uncomfortable. His masculine instincts screamed against the idea, urging him to decline politely.
Yet, as he felt the weight of his long blonde hair cascading past his shoulders, the tightness of his face and body from the injectable procedures, and the discomfort caused by his feminine attire and towering heels, he was reminded of his primary goal. He was desperate for all of this to end, to peel away the layers of Roxy and return to being Brian.
"Okay," Brian heard himself say, almost in disbelief at his own acquiescence. His unnaturally full and glossy lips moved almost independently as he committed to the decision. "I need to know what happened to her," he added, his voice a mix of determination and trepidation.
