Tracy had one too many cool glasses of Chablis, while dining with friends. They weren't ladies that lunched, though they did meet up for the occasional dinner together. Since university they kept in touch, attending weddings, and the usual social gatherings, whenever possible.
The others seemed to have far more interesting lives, though she knew they weren't all fun and games. Margaret's funeral had brought it home to them all that life was too short, to put off that elusive something.
"Do tell, what is it you have always wanted to do, though never managed to achieve?" Irene asked. Her usual noble, nasal accent, made the question sound like a demand.
She was referring to their earlier conversations, concerning Margaret's early demise. They had moved on to the inevitable subject of sex and the lack of it, so the question sounded less than innocent. Especially as they were about to pick dare cards, from an empty desert bowl.
"I'm not about to give you a clue as to my dare," Tracy pouted. "You'll just have to pick one and hope for the best," she smiled.
As usual Penelope had to be courageous and so, she picked the first card, laying it face down on the table. The others followed suit.
"Well?" Irene asked. She was eager to turn hers over, obviously keen, to see what she was committed to.
"Let's, turn them over together," Bernice suggested.
On the count of three they turned the card and quietly read the instructions. No-one gasped in horror, though Tracy felt queasy. Each had thought up a dare while visiting the bathroom. The attendant wrote them out, to keep them anonymous, as they knew each others hand writing.
Tracy wanted to say she couldn't do this. It was just too naughty. It might even be dangerous. Having read the card several times, she passed it the left, for the others to read. They were interrupted by the waiter re-filling their glasses. This time Tracy didn't cover the wine glass with a hand. Instead, she gratefully accepted, and took a gulp of the cool liquid.
"I can't see you carrying this out," Irene smirked, while fanning the card. The others laughed along with her.
"I will! A dare is a dare, and I accept the challenge," Tracy admonished them. She didn't feel so confident inside. She quaked, with stomach churning fear. It was a surprise to feel excited too.
"You can be the first then," Irene stated. "We all go along, to see you carry out the task. To protect you, of course, though nothing will happen," she artfully smiled.
The others took over planning, before she had a chance to think of an excuse to back out. Her life was boring, she conceded, so maybe this would add a little spice to it. She told herself that was wrong, not spice, but excitement. With her friends along, nothing would happen. She would be perfectly safe, of course she would.
On the drive to Irene's home she felt excited. A little aroused too! She put it down to the adventure, nothing to do with a perverse sexual anticipation.
Irene borrowed her maid's car, which was an old Honda saloon. It would hardly be suitable, to show up in a brand new Cadillac. Penelope picked the outfit. They giggled at her while she stared at it in a mirror.
"You bitch! It's worse than I thought," Tracy exclaimed. Even she was surprised that she didn't reject it. The exhilaration in the room was electric, infecting them all with excitement. Her friends had taken a day off from busy executive positions, so she felt obliged to carry out the dare. Or at least, she told herself that.
In the hotel suit they prepared her make-up. She had her nails done, not at the usual boutique, for it would be horrid to be recognised there. They tied her blonde hair into pig tails, while she mildly protested that they were going too far.
Tracy giggled with them. She was a thirty-three old woman, wearing an outfit unsuitable for when she was sixteen. The mirror image of a dumb blonde was effective. Driving the battered old car would fit the scene they had set-up perfectly.
"Come on, practise the part," Bernice chided her.
The three of them stared at her, waiting for the image to come alive. They had all tried their hand on the college stage, that's where they first met. That had been more than a few years ago, and it had been a failure then.
Tracy twirled the short, flowery dress and giggled, in a high pitched whine. "I'm so silly, I forgot my purse," she chirped.
"Well done!" Bernice laughed, while clapping her hands in appreciation of the performance. The others laughed along, adding their own comments.
"I always thought you were a dumb blonde," Irene smirked.
"Thank you, ma'am. I hope to be a bimbo, when I'm old like you, ma'am," Tracy replied, with a scathing look directed at Irene.
"Careful ladies, don't forget, we all have to go through with a dare," Bernice reminded them. Good old Bernice was the sensible one as usual. The same age as the others, yet usually the one to bring a focus, and a sense of decorum to their little group.
"Come on then, young girl, your audience awaits your entrance," Irene said, pushing her toward the door.
"OK! One more drink, then the adventure is on," Penelope announced.
"Sorry, miss, Angel will be a good girl, and do as she's told," Tracy said, with a convincing girly whine.
They laughed along with her, and each hugged her.
"I'm proud of my little darling," Irene said, and kissed her on the cheek.
She meant it too! Tracy wasn't used to being the centre of attention, so she started to enjoy it. Having Irene praise her was a surprise and heartening.
The shiny black Lexus, with blacked out windows, followed closely behind the Honda. They turned out of the hotel car park, toward the area all agreed would be perfect for their game. The neighbourhood wasn't up market, or too down at heel either.
Tracy turned into the assigned gas station, and sat in the car for a moment or two. Her friends would guess she was having second thoughts. Checking her face in the mirror, she recognised a look of fear in her eyes.
"Get a grip, girl," she said, out loud. She got out of the car, trying to keep the hem under control. Lifting the nozzle with both hands meant letting it swirl around her thighs. Damn! The Honda was low down, so she had to bend, when opening the little filling hatch.
Unused to filling up a car with fuel, meant it was difficult to co-ordinate the whole process. She had parked too close and had to bend forward, to watch the gauge. If the cost was too much, the guy wouldn't co-operate. The dials seemed to rotate so rapidly! She clicked off the gun to put it back in the machine, with several attempts needed.
Tracy hadn't been able to practise filling up, as there weren't any gas stations that allowed filling, without paying first. Using a credit card was out of the question.
Walking up to the pay station she kept her head down. It was one thing being praised by her friends, yet another, expecting to fool a guy in there. They had chosen well. The lighting was poor, so the old guy probably wouldn't notice her age. He would be too busy looking at her legs and cleavage.
This thought brought on a charge of embarrassment, making her falter. She saw a shadow behind the counter and looked away. "Sorry, I forgot my purse," she said, as rehearsed. A quaver, added a touch of authenticity to the girly voice.
In a panic she quickly fluttered out of the small store, back to the car. She bent over, rummaging around for money, knowing there was none. Leaning over the seat she did the same. There was enough junk to rifle through. Somehow she felt more in control, wiggling her ass at the guy; if he was watching the performance.
It was all a part of the dare, she reminded herself. Distract him, so he didn't look at her face. Excite him a little, to get his co-operation, but not enough to get into trouble. They had briefed her well, only she still felt embarrassed. After all, she was flaunting her body at a stranger.
As she walked back in, the sense of power over a man, from using feminine wiles, evaporated. She looked like a dumb blonde, and felt like one too.
"I really am a silly girl. I've left my money at home," she said, sounding like a pathetic young thing. The confused state she was in, added to her sounding like a stupid blonde.
Tracy was scared, aroused, and way out of her comfort zone. All she could think of was running away and hiding, from her friends and failure. If she hadn't been so scared she might have made the move toward the door, and escape from the torment.
"You had better sit there, while I call the police," the guy said.
