Summer Swap 4-16

Byron grabbed his crotch through the towel he wore around his waist and shifted his hips side to side. She asked him, “Is it itchy?”

He shook his head no. “It’s fine.”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m fine,” he said, then smirked and made a funny face. “It actually feels kind of good.”

She and Byron and Lily had moved from Carla’s bathroom into the bedroom now. Lily had put away the shave cream, the razor, and had wiped the edge of the tub where they’d left lather cream puffs flecked with Byron’s shorn pubic hairs.

Lily’s willingness to play along was startling. She stood off to the side, near the foot of Carla and Cody’s bed, hands tucked under her armpits, smiling and bouncing on her toes, like a little kid who couldn’t wait to see what they would do next.

She patted Byron’s freshly shaved cheek—another of Carla’s odd requests—saying, “I want you feeling good.”

He said, “This really is starting to sound like a sacrifice, Chey.”

Lily whispered what sounded like, “Kali Ma,” for some reason and giggled.

Chey said to Byron, “Are you ready for the next step?”

Her husband smiled and said sure, looked to Lily, like the two of them couldn’t believe this was happening. She went to the wardrobe, slid the door aside and began indexing through the clothes hanging there, looking for what Carla told her to find. Found it near the back, sealed inside a zippered garment bag. “Here it is,” she said.

Byron said, “Cody’s clothes aren’t going to fit me, Chey.”

“These are your clothes,” she said, turning and presenting him the garment bag.

“Oh, a costume party,” Lily whispered and clasped her hands together at her chest.

“My clothes?”

With the hanger on one hand, she drew down the bag’s zipper and revealed the outfit within.

Byron frowned. “What is it? A suit?”

Now she didn’t know what to say, what to reveal in front of Lily. The fact Lily had been with them had been so debilitating at first, but Lily had joined in, undeterred, not reluctant, interested. Interested and helpful. Maybe Carla knew there was more to Lily than she and Scarlet had suspected.

She opened the gap wider and showed Byron the jacket had a patch emblazoned on the left breast. “It’s a school... it’s a school uniform. Like a British school.”

Lily said, “Harry Potter?”

Byron made a face. “I can’t do an English accent. I don’t want to do that. I’ll feel silly.”

Lily whispered, “Good day, gov’nah,” and tipped an imaginary cap, smiling ear to ear.

“No, not stupid Harry Potter, Byron. Carla doesn’t read Harry Potter. You picture that, picture her reading a Harry Potter book?”

“No. So what is it?”

“She wants you to be a student at a private school.”

“Okay...”

“It’s an international school, Byron. Students come from all over the world. Does Carla have a British accent?”

Byron looked from Lily back to her. “No.”

“So you don’t have one either. You’re from the US or Canada or wherever you want.”

“Not Australian, that accent is impossible,” he said, feeling the blazer’s lapel.

“No, Byron,” she said. “Just be you. You’re way more than enough for her. Carla wants you. She brought this uniform for you. She was hoping she could get you in her bed. They plotted against us, Cody for me, Carla for you, but we’re in this together, and we’re having fun. Aren’t we having fun?”

“She brought the suit for me?”

“You’re looking at it. You see it.”

Byron rubbed his forehead, perplexed. “This is so fucking crazy.”

* * *

Chey stepped back from him now, lay the garment bag on the bed, the zipper mouth puckered open, showing off some embroidered crest on the blazer’s breast pocket. Then Chey said to Lily, “Thank you so much for helping, Lily.”

Lily snickered and showed a brief two-finger salute, then Chey said, “But I think I need a minute with my husband before, uh...”

“You send him off to battle?”

Chey looked over her shoulder to him, and made a funny face. They’d already admitted it, there was no hiding it, but he felt the same way as Chey’s expression conveyed: it was strange divulging it all to their innocent friend. And absolutely confounding the way it had turned out with Lily.

“Yeah,” she said then, returning her attention to Lily. “Send him off to battle.”

Lily said, “You guys are bad.” The tone wasn’t accusing, more of a childish assessment. He couldn’t tell if she was kidding or what. It seemed lighthearted, but none of them would have expected this from Lily. They would have anticipated disdain.

Chey nodded, looking back to him for a second then saying, “We’re bad, all right.”

Lily screwed her mouth up, then said, “You better tell Arlo I helped.”

Chey said that they would, and then Lily sidestepped toward the door, scrutinizing them with a scowl and a half-smirk, got to the door, pointed to them with an index finger, then stroked the other index finger over it in the international gesture for shame-shame-shame, then she wiggled her fingers in farewell and stepped out.

Rigt away, he said, “What the fuck was that?”

Chey spun around, “I have no fucking idea.”

“Do you think she’s okay?”

“Like in the head?”

He laughed, stepped closer and held Chey’s arms. “Uh... Well, that, but...”

“But what?”

He squinted and made a face, surprised she didn’t know what he was talking about. “Don’t you think she was wearing a diaper?”

Chey made a weirder face and shook her head like she’d misheard him. “What?”

“Didn’t you hear it crinkling?”

“No.”

“I hope she’s okay,” he said, then muttered aside, “Irritable Bowel Syndrome or something.”

“I think a diaper and whether she was wearing one is nowhere near what I thought you were going to say. She helped me shave you. And what the fuck was that magic trick, like the Vulcan touch she used down there?”

“I have no idea, but it worked.”

“That was hands-down the weirdest exchange I’ve had with anyone.”

“I think she’d say the same to her husband, you know, given she came in here to shave my genitals.”

“That’s a good point, but, like, she was so weird. Like, acting like... childish or something.”

“Maybe she didn’t know how to act, coming in here to do something crazy like that.”

They both sighed at the same time, big hearty chest-heaving ones, then looked in each other’s eyes and laughed about it. Then they just kept looking at each other some more.

Chey said, “You ready to put your suit on?”

“I guess.” He bit his lower lip, bounced his eyebrows, the whole ordeal so weird and yet exciting. Chey was putting no brakes on this runaway train.

She stood and watched as he removed his towel, stepped into a pair of tight-whitey y-fronts included in the bag, black socks, gray flannel pants, white dress shirt.

Chey said, “Looks like a great fit.”

He held out his arms, checking the cuffs, then did up the leather belt. “Perfect fit.”

Chey brought him the tie, helped loop it under his collar, tried to help him tie it but fucked it up.

“Let me.” He took over, both of them face to face and smiling. He said, “What are you going to be doing?”

“Nothing,” she said, then squinted. “Nothing with Cody, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He nodded, turned to retrieve the navy blazer. “You can if you want,” he said, putting his arms into it, his back to her.

Her arms went around his waist, hugging him from behind, her hands lacing over his stomach. He put a hand over them. She said, “If I’m going to be honest, I do want to be with Cody again. But more than anything I want this to be right between us. I don’t want to be with Cody. I don’t want to be with him, if you know what I’m saying. I want to be with you. And when there’s an opportunity...”

He patted her hand and turned to face her. “You’ll fuck Cody.”

She winced—because it was true. “That’s all, though,” she said. “Do you even know what I’m saying? Can we even do this?”

He said, “It never occurred to me that you could possibly be with Cody, Chey. He’s married. Married to Carla. They’re happy, we’re happy. I didn’t think that.”

“I didn’t think it either, but I thought maybe you did.”

“I’m glad to know you’re not going to run off with a married man—who, by the way, has a wife who would chase you both down, or hire someone to do it, maybe some cartel men with chainsaws, chop you both up into pieces and film it for her later amusement.”

Chey’s eyes widened with shock. “Some imagination, buddy.”

He took a step back, taking a breath, preparing himself for an unexpected speech. “Look, what you revealed to me was so hard to take, so huge, and yet... You know, it means something to me, and—“

“What I did, Byron, honey, was not the right way to do it. I got something in my head—”

“Like a fever.”

Like a fever, yeah, and in getting what I wanted, maybe I made some mistakes. But now that it’s done and I find out what kind of man you really are, this is so important for me to do, to send you to Carla. I know the risk you took. Talked about it with Scarlet today and... I don’t know, I never thought of it before, but yeah, I insulted your masculinity—“

“No, you didn’t...”

“Oh yeah I did, but you’re man enough to take it. And I’m lucky for that because I didn’t deserve the understanding you offered me.”

He nodded and made a small satisfied sound in his throat that made her smile. She said, “I like this. I like what we’re doing. I want to do it more. But what is really important to me right now is you enjoy it as much as I do.”

“I get it.”

“I hope so. . . . I love you.”

He cocked his head and smiled. “I love you, too.”

“I know you do. You showed me you do.” She stopped closer, looking him up and down, touching the shoulders of his jacket. “It really is a perfect fit.”

“It is.”

“You look good. You look really good. Boyish. Handsome.”

“Like an innocent British schoolboy.”

Chey touched her lips to his, then committed to a deeper kiss, cupping his face and neck. Then she patted his cheek. “My British schoolboy.”

He nodded.

* * *

His heart started to race walking the hall on the lower level. Down where Carla had lured him for some dumb Shop-vac. He knew what he was in for. Carla was the headmistress and he was an errant charge, in trouble for something. Whatever misdeed he’d done to be called to Headmistress Bishop’s office wouldn’t matter, all that would matter is the punishment. Carla would spank him. Spank him for sure. She’d probably brought one of those paddles they used in private schools in the old movies. She’d rap his knuckles with a ruler. Maybe make him put his balls on her desk so she could smack them. Make him strip so she could humiliate him or something. Whatever. Whatever she wanted to do, he was all in. There was something about Carla that attracted him and it wasn’t just her perfect rack, as Cheyenne and the others thought. She was tough, she was mean, she was a scheming princess, and yet...

He stopped at the door, adjusting his suit, amazed at how well it fit. Took a deep breath, held it, wasted a little more time adjusting his tie... And when he had the nerve he knocked on the door.

From inside, Carla’s curious voice: “Come in.” High and light and wondering who could be at her door at this hour.

“Oh boy,” he whispered to himself, turned the knob and stepped inside.

Carla was on the bed, but this was not what he had expected at all.