Invisible Girl An Erotic Romance Pt 03

Chapter Twelve

As Peter walked her home Jane told him the whole story of the Invisible Girl, and how she'd felt seen for the first time when he'd spotted her in the coatroom that night. How, even though she'd been terrified when he'd come into the girls' bathroom and made her his slave, she'd also been thrilled by it because he really seemed to see her. How she'd been becoming more and more visible to other people. How she'd been doing better when reading in front of a class. "Though of course now I'm always going to imagine I'm in my underwear," she'd added with a grin. How she'd started talking to some of her old friends. How she'd been invited to a slumber party the coming weekend.

His grin got wider and wider as she talked. "You're telling me that you're less shy with people because I make you take your clothes off? That's the craziest thing I ever heard."

"But it's true, Peter! I don't know why, exactly, but..." She thought for a while. "You've

seen

me—you know who I really am better than anyone, and... and...you..." She looked down, then back over at him. "And you...still like me."

He nodded, his face serious. "You know I do." They walked on for a moment, and then he added, "More than anyone I've ever known." More silence. Then: "Because you see me, too. And you still like me."

She nodded. "But what I'm trying to say is that...because of you...I'm not as

afraid

of being seen by anybody else."

He gave her a one-armed hug then, and kissed her. Then he asked, "So...you gonna be okay with a bunch of girls, you think?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess so. I don't even know who else is coming. But I guess it'll be okay. At least two of them are friends, so I'll have people to talk to."

"You gonna tell them about us? I mean, you know they're gonna spend a lot of time talking about boyfriends and stuff."

She snorted, and said, as if speaking to someone else, "Oh, my boyfriend? We met in the girls' bathroom at school. It was so romantic."

She grinned at him. "I think we'll just let that stay invisible for now..."

----------------------------------------------------

It was the wine that started it all.

After Suzy's parents had said good night and retreated upstairs, leaving the eight girls in command of the lower floor, Sarah had promptly unrolled her sleeping bag and brandished the bottle that had been smuggled in with it, smiling proudly.

"My parents have cartons of it, they'll never miss it."

Most of the girls started to cheer and reach for the paper cups Suzy's parents had supplied to accompany the soda and snacks, but then there was an awkward moment when everyone glanced at the girl sitting on the couch, unsure of what to do.

The girl's name was Chrissy Hurlin, and Jane only knew two things about her: that she had graduated last year from the local Catholic high school, and that her father was the town police chief.

She hadn't exactly been invited to the party: it was one of those situations where Suzy's parents knew Chrissy's parents and

they

had decided it would be nice to include her. Everyone had been at pains to include her in the general conversation, but no one really knew her.

She should have been popular on the basis of her looks alone; she was tall and slim, with long wavy brown hair, huge brown eyes and a sweet smile.

But there was something off-putting about her as well. She was always dressed, as one girl had described it, "Like she's going to church instead of school." When she had first appeared many of the boys, attracted by her beauty, had tried to date her, without success.

Suzy had whispered to Jane that some of the boys called her 'Prissy Chrissy' or 'Chris the Priss', because of the way she dressed, and because of the way she had looked at them when they asked her out, as if she'd had no idea what they were talking about. She had always smiled, thanked them politely and changed the subject, or moved along.

There was always an inward quality about her that suggested her mind was elsewhere, even when she was speaking directly to you. Suzy had wondered if maybe she was planning to become a nun.

So she was an unknown factor, especially at a moment like this. How would the churchy police chief's daughter react to the contraband wine?

To everyone's relief she simply continued talking to the girl on her left about the choir group she sang with, as if she hadn't noticed a thing. Maybe she hadn't, it was hard to tell. But at any rate, the first round of wine was distributed to those who were interested. Even the girl Chrissy was talking with, after a moment of hesitation, accepted a cup. Chrissy herself, of course, showed no interest, or even awareness.

Jane also accepted a cup, more out of curiosity than any real desire. There was no longer any liquor in her house, so this was simply an opportunity to experiment and be sociable.

She had actually been having a pretty good time, so far. At first she had stuck close to Suzy and Lucia, her two friends from before, but everyone had seemed friendly enough. And the conversation had so far stayed very light, if a little loud in order to be heard over the record-player: Teachers and classes, clothing and hair, TV and music and movies.

She took a sip of her wine. Wrinkled her nose. Made herself drink a little more.

Lucia had casually gathered Jane's hair into a loose braid as they talked, and now was wondering aloud how Jane would look with her hair, not

shorter

, exactly, but shaped a bit more around her face. She pulled out a pile of Suzy's fashion magazines and paged through a number of them until she saw a picture that showed more or less what she'd meant, and showed it to Jane.

One of the other girls plucked it out of her hand, held it next to Jane's face, and said, "Ooo, Jane—this would look

great

on you. Two other girls sitting nearby interrupted their conversation long enough to glance over and nod agreement, one saying, "Yeah. Do it, Jane."

Jane took another gulp of wine. The hairstyle did look very nice on the model, and it was certainly much more sophisticated than what she had. But it would mean giving up her bangs—she wasn't sure she was ready to be that visible all the time. She was suddenly overpowered by the memory of scissors, drunkenly wielded by her father. Of walking through the school hallways trying to keep her head down so no one could see.

But then she heard Lucia say, "I've got an appointment on Tuesday after school. I'll call and see if they can take you at the same time, okay? Hey Suzy, can I tear out this page?"

Suzy said sure, and Lucia ripped it out. "We'll bring it along so you can show them what you want." Then she saw the doubt on Jane's face and said, "Do you want to think about it? You could take this picture home..."

Jane drained her cup, smiled bravely at Lucia and said, "No, let's try it. I mean, I can always grow it back, right?"

There was just the one bottle of wine but, truth be told, none of them were experienced drinkers, so even a couple of cups each among the five who were drinking was enough to loosen tongues and inhibitions somewhat. Laughter became louder and secrets were shared. Even the non-drinkers seemed to absorb the mood by osmosis.

Except for Chrissy, of course, who seemed unchanged. Pleasantly not quite there. When the conversation came around to boys she simply listened with the same quizzical look she must have had when she was being asked out.

Sarah was complaining about her boyfriend. "Chuck is always trying to put his tongue in my ear." This was greeted by a general chorus of "Ewww..." and laughter. "He must have read somewhere that it's sexy, I guess. Yuck!"

This led to a general discussion of boys as sex-crazed monsters. One said that a boy had tried to feel her up on their first date. Another complained that her boyfriend kept trying to put her hand on his you-know-what while they were kissing.

The conversation grew in pitch and hilarity, each one trying to top the next, and Jane, thinking somewhat giddily that she should make a contribution, suddenly blurted out, "My boyfriend likes to spank me!"

Unfortunately this exclamation occurred at one of those unpredictable moments when everything has momentarily gone quiet. And of course after that everything became

extremely

quiet.

Jane looked around at the startled faces and, thinking quickly despite her slightly addled state, manufactured a grin and said, "Ha! Gotcha, didn't I?"

The room erupted into howls of laughter. Jane mentally wiped her brow, and glanced around the room. She was pretty sure she had gotten away with it until her gaze fell on Chrissy, who was staring at her with an intensity that she had never shown before. Jane quickly glanced away.

Sarah was saying, "Do you really have a boyfriend, or were you joking about that too? I've never seen you with anyone."

Jane had at least come prepared for that, and told her the story she'd invented about a boy from a nearby town—actually kind of a distant relative, met him at a family event, didn't have a car, couldn't get here too often, lots of phone calls, etc.

"...So I don't know if he's my boyfriend, exactly," she concluded.

"Well, that doesn't sound like much fun. We ought to fix you up with somebody from around here."

At this the subject quickly veered to which boys at school were both available and desirable, especially among the girls without boyfriends. Names were brought up, good and bad qualities discussed.

Jane listened with half an ear. She could see, from the corner of her eye, that Chrissy was still looking at her, if not as deliberately as before, and it disturbed her.

Her attention was drawn back to the group when Peter's name suddenly came up.

There was general agreement that he was cute and nice, but something of a mystery: lots of friends, both male and female, but never a

girlfriend

. Someone mentioned the girl he'd taken to the prom, and someone else said it had never gone anywhere, as far as she knew.

Jane smiled to herself and said nothing.

After a while the conversation began to wind down, and pretty soon everyone had unrolled their blankets and sleeping bags and gotten ready to sleep. After the lights were turned out there was still desultory conversation, punctuated by sleepy laughter and giggling.

Jane drifted off to sleep, wondering what Chrissy had on her mind.

Chapter Thirteen

She found out on Monday. As she got in line for lunch Chrissy came up behind her and greeted her. Jane had a feeling that Chrissy had been waiting for her.

Chrissy was dressed, as usual, in pretty but extremely conservative clothing. Church clothes. She asked, a little too casually, if she could sit with Jane. Then, after they'd gotten their food, led her to the remotest table and without seeming to do it deliberately made sure they were sitting with their backs to the room.

Jane was now fully alert, if not yet alarmed.

At first, they just made stilted small talk: the party, who was friends with who, and so forth. Chrissy barely ate. Her beautiful face was tense, as if she was working up the nerve to discuss something, and her eyes were once again unnaturally focused on Jane, darting away sometimes when she realized she was staring, but always returning. She looked fascinated and terrified at the same time, as if contemplating a jump from a cliff.

And somehow Jane was the cliff; Jane was sure of it.

When what little conversation there was finally dried up completely, Chrissy looked down, seemingly at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. She glanced sideways at Jane, then back.

Finally, in a strained undertone, as if simultaneously trying to say the words and hold them back, she asked, "Does he...

really

spank you?"

Then, glancing over at Jane again and away, she added, "I

swear

I won't tell anyone. Honest."

And with that she looked directly into Jane's eyes, and waited.

Jane had figured this all had something to do with her thoughtless speech at the party, but was still taken unaware by the directness of the question. At first she thought to just laugh it off as she had before, and began to work up a smiling face, but then she saw something in the intensity of Chrissy's expression—a kind of desperation, almost—that made her hesitate.

Finally, she decided to trust her intuition and replied, simply, "Sometimes."

Chrissy's eyes widened slightly, and she breathed an "Ohh." as if she had just taken another step closer to the cliff's edge. She looked down, then back at Jane, and said, "R-really spanks you? Hard?"

Jane had no idea where this was going, but she nodded, cautiously.

Chrissy nodded back, as if in agreement. She looked down again, and was silent for a moment. She took a deep breath and let it out. Another. She toyed with the food on her plate. She took a breath as if to say something, then stopped. Took another breath, darted a quick sideways glance at her and began, "He doesn't..."

She stopped. Jane saw that she was blushing furiously.

Chrissy tried to continue, "He doesn't see...he doesn't l-lift up your..."

Ah. Jane was definitely curious now. Why was Prissy Chrissy asking about this?

She deliberately met Chrissy's eyes and finished her sentence for her: "He pulls up my skirt, yes."

Chrissy gasped slightly and looked away again.

Jane wondered how Chrissy would react if she went on to describe being spanked with a metal ruler while bent over a teacher's desk in her bra and panties. Faint, probably.

Instead, she asked, "What's this all about, Chrissy? Why are you asking me about this?"

Chrissy just shook her head, not meeting her eye.

Jane said, "You wanted

me

to trust

you

..."

Chrissy sat silently for almost a full minute. Then, still not looking at her, she said, in a barely audible whisper, "I need to be punished."

Jane was glad Chrissy wasn't looking at her just then. She was in complete shock. She blurted out, "For what?"

But Chrissy shook her head violently and said, "It doesn't matter. He's your boyfriend anyway."

Abruptly she rose, as if to leave.

"Wait a minute,

wait

a minute!" Jane grabbed her hand and pulled her back to her seat. Chrissy slumped, sullenly.

Jane said, "It's okay, you don't have to tell me." She thought for a moment, then continued, "But...aren't you Catholic?"

Chrissy nodded, dejectedly.

"Well, aren't you supposed to go to confession if you've done something bad? Don't they give you...what's it called? Penance?"

Chrissy nodded again, her face hidden by her hair. Then she suddenly straightened up, turned to Jane and said, almost fiercely, "But that's just Hail Marys and Our Fathers. It's just words! It's not enough!"

She said this last sentence loud enough so that heads turned at nearby tables, and this time she really did jump to her feet and storm out of the room.

But not before Jane had seen the tears in her eyes.

She sat by herself for the remainder of the lunch period, thinking.

She was lost in thought for the rest of the day as, gradually, a plan began to take shape. When it was fully formed, and she had examined it from every angle, she wanted to hug herself with delight.

She had thought of a way to give Chrissy what she wanted, and at the same time give Peter a graduation present he would never forget.

The next day at school, she looked for Chrissy in the halls between classes.

When Chrissy saw her coming towards her, she at first tried to walk past, pretending not to see her. Jane understood her embarrassment, but caught her arm anyway and said her name, and when she turned, Jane handed her a note—a note she had written several versions of before deciding on this one—and continued on.

"Dear Chrissy, I talked to my boyfriend about you last night. Don't worry, I didn't use your name. He lives in Haverson and wouldn't know you anyway. He's Catholic too. Well, his family is anyway, he doesn't go to church much anymore. Anyway, he told me there's a priest named Father Brian, have you heard of him? He travels around from place to place. I guess he does Bible study workshops or something. But my boyfriend heard that he also meets privately with people who need

special

penance

. He's supposed to be in Haverson next week. Do you want me to see if I can find out more? Maybe he can help you. --Jane."

When Jane arrived at the lunchroom that day, she saw that Chrissy had been waiting for her.

But Chrissy said nothing, just handed her back the note and moved on.

When Jane unfolded it there were two words written at the bottom in green ink: "Yes. Please."

Excellent, thought Jane. But she had other business to attend to before the next step was taken.

After school she met with Lucia, and together they walked downtown to the local hair salon, The Pink Poodle, to get their hair cut.

Jane showed the magazine picture to the stylist, who looked back and forth between Jane's face and the picture several times, then smiled broadly and said, "Darlin', I think you're gonna look prettier in this cut than

she

does!"

Jane didn't dare look in the mirror while her hair was being cut and styled, convinced that she was making a huge mistake, and that she would have to wear a bag over her head until it grew back.

But when it was done, Lucia looked over and exclaimed, "Ooo, Jane. You look

so

pretty!"

And when her chair was turned to the mirror Jane had to agree.

It was as if she had suddenly gone from being an adolescent to being a young woman; her bangs were gone, but her face was beautifully framed with feathery combed-forward hair that curled under her chin before dropping gracefully to her shoulders.

She wanted to squeal with delight...but that was something the beautiful young lady in the mirror wouldn't do. She thanked the stylist profusely and gave her a big tip.

She and Lucia went out and had root beer floats to celebrate. Then Lucia walked her part-way home, before turning off towards her own house--but not before giving Jane a hug.

Jane thanked her for talking her into the idea. She smiled all the way back to her house.

When she got home, her mother had just arrived. She came hurrying out of the kitchen to greet Jane, but stopped dead in her tracks. She stared at Jane for a moment as if she were a stranger.

Then she said, "Oh sweetie, you look...

wonderful

! Let me look at you!" She came and took Jane's shoulders in her hands and looked at her with such warmth that Jane felt herself blushing.

She's looking at me

, she thought.

She's really looking at me.

And couldn't understand why she suddenly felt tears in her eyes.

She hugged her mother, unable to remember the last time she had done so.

Her mother may have been puzzled by this sudden show of affection, but had the good sense not to show it, simply holding Jane for as long as she wanted to be held. And when they finally pulled apart there were tears in her eyes as well.

"Oh my", she said. "Your Dad and I have been so busy and you've been...growing up. I'm so sorry, Jane."

They hugged again and both of them cried for a while.

Then her mother straightened up and looked at her again, and said, "I have an idea."

She walked over to the small table where the phone was kept, looked up a number in the phone book, and dialed.

After a moment, Jane heard her say, "Phil? It's Connie Harkin... Oh, just fine, thank you. Look, I'm sorry to bother you at home, but I was wondering, is there any chance you could make some time for Jane early tomorrow? It's really high time she got her braces off. I know this is kind of sudden, but..."

Jane didn't hear the rest of the conversation. She wanted to jump up and down with excitement. Her braces...off! Oh god, that would be perfect!"