Ghostly Writer
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Always have a plan (Darien pt 2)
🕑 Added 2024-08-31 19:09:51 +0000 UTC(Large GIF above; give it a moment to load)
The air felt a little stuffy in the rental car. It didn't help that Darien was wearing a latex-silicone blended mask over his face, but he didn't care. The closeness, the heat; it was intoxicating, like a lover's embrace.
He checked his appearance once more, using his phone like a mirror, but one that recorded his every action as this new woman - a woman who only had a surname so far; Jenkins. He'd been experimenting for a while now, trying to discover who she was; while he'd invented her look, her body and her physical traits, he hadn't spent as much time on her inner life.
Emily, he was fairly certain, was going to be her first name. It was a pretty sounding name, innocent almost, and that was the aura he wanted to project... even though he knew Emily was going to be anything but innocent, if his own wants and desires were to be satisfied.
Leaning forward a little he separated the denim collar of the jean jacket he'd picked out. He wasn't certain this was the kind of outfit that 'Emily' would normally wear - he expected she'd be more classy, more refined - but for this weekend trip to the mall, it would work.
He liked the accessories he'd picked. The silver plated necklace, stiff and cold on his own skin, felt removed and almost remote, lying against the throat of the mask. It wasn't really covering any sort of seam or visible betrayal of his true identity, but it felt like it could be, and that quietly thrilled Darien, as if he was one piece of jewelry away from exposure. Feeling strangely confident, he adjusted the necklace, making sure it would be seen. The ring on one finger of his left hand was bold and obvious, too; it would attract the eye, tell a story about this new woman to strangers.
Then there was the hair he'd picked. He still wasn't entirely sure if Emily would be a blond or a brunette; perhaps even a fiery redhead. For now he'd picked a wig he'd used before, a wig he'd worn when he'd previously called himself "Jenkins", a previous identity in a previous town. It was blond, straight and fell neatly about his shoulders. The way he'd styled it, it could be 'flipped' over his head, giving Emily a sort of European, punk-ish look he liked. An actual punk look could work for her, he mused.
Running his fingers through the fake hair he examined his makeup, the thin layer of powder and paint over the mask that would bring Emily to life. From the first time he'd worn this mask he knew it would always need full, red lips and once again he'd obliged that morning, carefully outlining them with a lip pencil before filling them in with a favorite shade of red. Then he'd slowly given her eyelids a light dusting of eye shadow before finishing the look by filling in her eyebrows. There was a small line of (fake) hair there, but Emily always needed some help in that department. It allowed Darien to ensure that her eyebrows were always arched just so, curving over her eyes in a way that meant however he looked at someone, there was always a slight sense of mystery, of allure. Exactly as he'd intended it.
Satisfied, he sat back in the passenger seat and looked across the parking lot. There in the middle distance was the entry to the mall he'd chosen, a quiet suburban spot. He had enough confidence in his own abilities that frankly he could have walked into any bar or restaurant in the area and picked up a man or two, but this was how he wanted to start. Slowly. Carefully. To see how he, or rather Emily, would respond to the casual attention of sales assistants and teenagers doing their weekend jobs. How she'd do under light pressure. It was a test.
Still, a test could be fun; an assignment could be enjoyable. It helped that he'd slipped into the body he'd created for her, pulling up breasts over his own chest, tightening the corset-lined torso around his frame, watching as his toes wiggled into hers. He'd stared at his half-man, half-woman self in the mirror for a long time, smiling at her body, at the curves, contours and illicit shadows that he'd brought to life. It never got old. It never stopped being exciting.
Finally he'd picked up her face and presented it to himself in the mirror, smiling at her open mouth and dark, empty eyes. His own face was tacky with glue and he had only moments to savor that last instance before he subsumed himself, becoming someone new.
His mind was already on how he might seduce an unknowing mall employee as he pulled the mask over his head, tugging it down, sliding it into place. He had devised a plan before he put in the contact lenses and bit down on the dentures.
Now, he told himself as he opened the car door and stepped out, feeling the jeans he wore tighten across his fake ass, was time to execute that plan.
Someone's day was about to get so much better, he thought.
"And mine too," Emily whispered as she locked the car and began to stride across the lot.
