With a curt, "excusé moi" and a far less polite slammed door, Zoe had the bathroom to herself. Leaving Jon with the rest of the house and the space and privacy to imagine some hijinx.
Tonight would be the night. He was set on it.
It was all very exciting, thinking of what he'd get up to after dinner, as Jon slid Sandra's polyester purple polka-dotted panties up past his hips. Even the underwear he selected had a more playful tone and bolder cut than usual. That anticipation of the trouble he'd get into later had infected him with an energy he hadn't felt since the wish. The decision, to explore and understand womanhood, was freeing on levels Jon wasn't even capable of understanding. At least, not yet.
Jon even tsk-ed away the usual negative thoughts that relentlessly hounded and shamed him for enjoying anything as Sandra. Tonight, regardless of the awkwardness, he'd be intimate with a woman. By its definition- it was a huge step forward in becoming a man. He wasn't going to deduct points for the circumstances-- wasn't everyone's first time experimenting awkward? --and instead treat it like the golden opportunity to become an expert on the vagina it was. And maybe, if he was lucky, he'd be a master of the female orgasm too.
I just have to take notes on how this all feels. What works and what doesn't. Because if I write this down, it's science and something I can use when I'm back wearing jockies. And that's what I'm doing, science, and the only itch I'm scratching is curiosity.
Realizing he needed to actually get through the day first, Jon's thoughts now pivoted to temper his giddiness. His reflection adjusted the waistband around her hips and gave an inviting wiggle as the fabric snapped into place, creating an alluring and sobering vision. Could he actually be both conqueror and the conquerored? Dismissing the question, he tried to make room for more seemingly reasonable ideas when and one innocuous enough snuck in.
Should I shave so I can see my vag-er-Sandra's pussy better? Actually, am I too bushy in general? It's been kinda nice not being able to see it, but is that something other women would have judged me for? Am I gross? I can see a couple poking out. Am I too hairy?
Seemingly reasonable, but hitched to a thread that would invariable pull on a direct nerve of Sandra's insecurites. And already now, Jon was feeling different about the fluff on his puff and how unnaturally it now felt in his garments.
I might need to get the shaving cream out and a razor out. For science.
Jon tapped his toe, silently bristling, while waiting for Zoe to finish doing her makeup. Staring at her walls, it finally occurred to him just how girly Zoe's room and really, her life, now was. Okay, yes, it wasn't subtle, but Jon hadn't fully understood the degree. There was a lot of pink tones, string lights, and a non-significant variety and species of stuffed animal.,, But more importantly, it was girly in that there were also a lot of girls! Pictures of cheer squads, dance teams, summer camps, volunteer work, 4H clubs- Zoe was in so many photos and surrounded by so many friends involved in so many sisterhoods. There was just so much history on display in every corner of her space. It was nothing like the loner Zoe Jon had come to expect. He could maybe recall one photobooth reel of her and Athena that was kept 'ironically' and nothing compared to the full palette of emotions and experiences on display here.
There was also lot of awards too. Medals. Framed certificates. Trophies. The big kind too. You name it.
This Zoe was, well, she was honored. She was accomplished. And she was celebrated by a huge community of friends and family. Compared to Linda, Sandra had found a way to unlock this social version of Zoe and really tap into her potential. It was silly, to even enertain any notions of pride. 99% of it had to be the stone's work in conjuring up this phoney balogna history-- as extensive as it was. The other one percent was... well... Jon would never admit to it or care... but was it so silly to think he was the secret ingredient? He was a pretty great brother after all...
Luckily Zoe had finished her shift in the bathroom in enough of a whirlwind to suck Jon back into the moment. "Stupid, stupid, stupid! I swear I just saw that stupid bracelet in my backpack and now Riley is going to kill me because we're going to have to do more stupid crunches because I don't have the stupid-"
"Whoa, slow down, and maybe cool it the stupids. You're kinda wearing it out. For such a good writer, you think I wouldn't need to remind you there's better words. More forbidden words. Now take a deep breath and tell me what it looks like."
"It's team colors, pink and silver beads that spell C-A-P-T-A-I-N. It's a tradition Sarah started-" Zoe darted, frantically tearing through stacks of laundry or piles of pillows in her search.
"-You mean like the one on your desk? Stretched over your pencil case?" Jon offered non-chalantly.
It didn't take Zoe more than a step and quick glance to realize it had been right in front of her face. "How did you... When did you... You put that there, right? Don't tell me you're actually developing mom powers now!"
"Ha. No, you just left me here waiting so long that I had nothing better to do than take in every detail of your ridiculous and messy room," Jon teased. "I mean, does it seem ethical to have this many dream catchers? They can't be doing well on a diet of pom-poms and bubblegum you ration them on every night."
Zoe slipped the bracelet over her wrist, taking a second to make sure the letters were facing up, before eagerly firing back. "Well, if you want to see embarrassing rooms, you should see the one next door. It's like the woman who lives there thinks candles and wax melts are an entire personality."
"Oh yeah? You'd think the girl who lived here..."
And that's how it continued, harmless, prodding all the way to the car... and then in the car. And then all the way to school. Then it got a little too personal, but was quickly fixed by a quick sing-a-long.
They were both late (surprise).
It couldn't have been a better start to their day.
