The Art Of Becoming
1
The Fun House loomed before Hannah and Chase, its exterior painted in a peaches and cream flesh tone, its trim done in burgundy, its edgings and peaks gleaming like polished purple leather under the tempting gold of the late afternoon sun. Far enough away from Chase's home and day to day vanilla haunts, in a sleepy seaside town, the Fun House was a super-sized colonial revival, regal and stately, that dominated the end of an otherwise ordinary lane of humble capes and ranches.
Hannah could still hear the comforting churn of surf in the distance as she strode beside Chase toward the house's door yard. She was led gently by her hand, outfitted in her little pink dress, little pink socks and her white Patton leather shoes. Beneath the dress, she wore a pink flower patterned camisole undershirt and panties. From her neck dangled her pacifier and nestled in the crook of her right arm was a plush teddy bear. As other pedestrian traffic ogled and scoffed, Hannah bounced her pig tails as she walked; contentedly swinging her left arm, her fingers proudly interlaced with Chase's.
She regarded Chase, stunning in her knee length, shark repellent chainmail, and cocktail dress. Hannah had yet to be permitted to touch the highly reflective mesh material to determine for herself as to whether it was actual steel. She then admired Chase's bared shoulders and the white gold choker around her neck, its blue sapphire gleaming at the center of her throat. Her luxurious raven hair was bound in artful disorder at the back of her head, and her ears were bejeweled with more white gold and blue sapphire. The click clack of Chase's three inch polished platinum pumps echoed through the street.
Sensing Hannah's stare, Chase stopped. The lane suddenly empty and quiet, she fixed an ice blue gaze on her lover, its intensity melting with each passing second. Without a word, Chase roved her gaze from Hannah's pig tails to her shining white leather shoes, and then kissed her full on the mouth.
Together, they mounted the wide black flag stone steps and crossed the columned portico to the door. Chase rang the bell, and Hannah could hear the resulting chimes, their tone reminding her of carousel music. She wasn't sure what to expect when the big black door was opened, so was not at all prepared when it eventually creaked wide enough to reveal a young woman, possibly in her early twenties, her face made up and her body dressed in the guise of a clown. The young woman gasped exaggeratedly, eyes wide and mouth agape, as she took in the two callers.
"Oh my my my Mistress Chase," she warbled excitedly as she came between the door and the stoop, "Where did you find such an adorable little creature? May I ask her name?"
"You may." Chase intoned as she turned to see that Hannah had stuffed a thumb in her mouth; her teddy bear choked between her upper arm and trunk.
"What's your name little girl?" asked the pleasantly grease painted, round red nosed and pink haired princess.
The clown was dressed in green and white checked gingham, a frilled collar around her neck, an abundance of ruffles under her skirt. She wore her pink dyed hair up at the top of her head, bound with a variety of brightly colored ribbons that were as wide as party streamers. At the end of her smooth, lean, legs, her feet were dressed in short orange socks and a pair of big red clown shoes.
Hannah regarded her shyly, and then flit her coy gaze between the clown and her mistress. Chase bowed her head in consent, which prompted Hannah to withdraw her thumb and announce:
"My name is Baby Daw."
Immediately, she poked the thumb back into her mouth, and looked for Chase's approval.
"Well it's very nice to meet you Baby Doll." Said the clown as she bowed slightly at the waist, "For now, you can call me Madam Giggles. Please; won't you come in?"
Chase led Hannah into the foyer as the clown princess closed the door behind them. Either genuinely uncertain or simply playing the role of reluctant child, Hannah glanced nervously behind her as the clown took up their rear; skipping her way along the hall. The sounds of dining room fine ware clatter and polite chatter were increasingly audible as they advanced past a great open room on their right and closed doors on their left.
Finally, on their right, Chase brought Hannah into a vast dining room. She first took in the enormous light wood and windowed china cabinet along the far left wall, then the huge pots of small trees and wide ferns along the back wall until she observed that in the centered of the marble tiled floor, was a long table covered with a bounty of food. Around the table were arranged twelve eighteenth century styled chairs, nine of which were occupied by an Assortment of the most peculiarly queer and glamorously mysterious freaks Hannah had ever seen.
One of the first to take notice of their arrival was a large man seated at the far end of the table; his head coweled, his eyes and nose masked in leather, his full lips and cleanly shaven cheeks exposed. As he began to clang a butter knife against the base of his wine glass, Hannah scolded herself for having thought the word freaks. These were fellow scene enthusiasts, lovers and the objects of their affections. They were Chase's confidants, intimate friends and accepting family. Presently, Madam Giggles found her seat as the room quieted down. The masked man turned his head toward the comely black woman seated beside him, and she regarded him with an assuring bow of her own head.
"Mistress Chase," she said, her voice silky yet robust, "Dungeon Master Guryon wishes to welcome you back to his home. So finally, we can put a face to the name we've been hearing about over the last few months. Would you introduce her please?"
"Everyone," said Chase, scanning their faces, "I give you Ms. Hannah, alias Baby Doll."
Hannah blushed, nodded and curtsied; a skin of goose flesh coating her shoulders.
"Ah yes, but do we get to keep her?"
The group laughed genially as Hannah turned to see who'd spoken: an attractive blonde haired man seated to Madam Giggle's immediate right, dressed in a sand colored Panama open weave jacket, a tie that matched his amber eyes and a white silk shirt.
