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Chapter 25, Part 4
Back to: Chapter 25, Part 3 Next: Chapter 25, Part 5

“Cyrus, honey, your friend’s here,” Martha Cloud called out.

Cyrus looked down at the blue blouse in his hands, then over at his bedroom door. He could hear the footsteps growing louder and louder. Oh God, I can’t let them see this! he thought. Need to hide it now! My parents will kill me if they see this! He shoved the shirt into the dresser and quickly shoved the drawer closed, just as Ophelia opened the door, with his mother behind her.

“I’ll just leave you two alone,” Martha said cheerfully. “If you need anything, just run and get me.”

“Okay,” Cyrus replied quickly, glancing over at the dresser. Was any part of the blouse sticking out? Were any of his other contraband items out in the open? His eyes flicked about nervously, checking to see that his secret wasn’t going to be revealed. And then, he saw it. On his desk, partially hidden by a book, was a tube of lipstick. Crap! Cyrus thought, hoping it wouldn’t be noticed. How’d I miss that?

Martha smiled warmly at Ophelia, and then shut the door, leaving Ophelia and Cyrus alone.

“So,” Ophelia said cheerfully, sitting at the desk, “what’s up?”

“Uh… well,” Cyrus replied slowly, praying she wouldn’t notice the lipstick, “nothing, really. Just, you know, the usual stuff. And junk.”

Ophelia narrowed her eyes a little, frowning with concern. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You’re sweating an awful lot.” She reached over and felt his forehead. “Are you coming down with something?”

“No, I’m fine,” Cyrus said quickly, pulling away.

“Are you sure? You felt pretty warm.”

“Yeah, I’m okay, really.”

Ophelia grabbed at his wrist and felt his pulse for a few seconds. “And your heart’s pounding like crazy. Did I interrupt you in the middle of something…?”

“N-no!” Cyrus exclaimed. Well, yeah, he thought, but not what you’re thinking of, Lia.

“Are you hiding something from me?”

“Now, why would I do that?”


Ophelia smiled and asked, “Do you have some cute new girlfriend that you didn’t tell me about?”

“No, you know I’m single.”

“Hm,” Ophelia replied. She grinned and held up the lipstick from his desk. When did she see that? Cyrus wondered, ready to go into panic mode. “This must be yours, then,” Ophelia remarked. Cyrus held his breath, fearful of what she would say next. “It’s a good color for you, but a really cheapo brand. Why didn’t you ask me to come along? I could have helped you find way better-quality stuff for about the same price.”

Cyrus didn’t know whether to laugh or just plain pass out. He had not expected this sort of reaction from Ophelia; it was nice to have someone not treat him like he was hell-bound for what he felt was right.

“Do you have any decent chick clothes to wear? Anymore makeup?” Ophelia asked. Cyrus nodded in response, and pointed to the drawer where the items were hidden. Ophelia opened up the drawer and examined the items, frowning a little. “These are okay,” she remarked, “but you might need a little help from a woman. Get your stuff together.”

“Why?”

“We’re going to my house to play dress-up.”

___________________________________


“There, now, isn’t that much better?” Ophelia asked.

Cyrus stared silently at himself, stunned. Ophelia had done a rather impressive job. “This is great,” Cyrus finally said, finding his voice.

“So, how long have you been doing this?” Ophelia asked.

“What?”

“The makeup and clothes. Duh.”

Cyrus shrugged. “My whole life, pretty much. My parents don’t approve, so I’ve been hiding my stuff.”

“Why do you do this? Does it get you excited or something?”

Cyrus shrugged. “No, it’s not like that. It’s just… well… it’s what feels natural for me. I guess that sounds weird.”


“Not really. Different people feel comfortable with different stuff,” Ophelia replied. “I’m fine with it. Just… uh… this is the last time you get to wear one of my bras. I’m going to have to take you to get your own.” She grinned broadly. “Come on, let’s go get it now.”

“W-what? Like this?”

“Sure. Don’t worry, I’ll be there to keep the pervs away from you.”

“…Yeah, that’s nice and all, but…”

“But, what? You’ll be fine. Promise.”

“…Okay, fine,” Cyrus said reluctantly.

“Great!” Ophelia exclaimed, gathering her wallet and house keys. She stopped, rather suddenly, and then turned to Cyrus. “What do you want me to call you when you’re dressed like this?”

Cyrus shrugged. “Whatever you want. I never actually put that much thought into it,” he admitted. “For now, just call me Cy.”

“Okay, Cy it is.”

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