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Blue Moon 7.2

by Donna Lamb

Jo found a drawer full of bras in the drawers under the vanity in the dressing room. A colorful assortment of styles and fabrics simply confused her. "I've only got two tits, why do I need so m-many b-b-bras?" There didn't seem to be any plain white ones, the nearest she could find being white with pale yellow decorative lace. The cups seemed very soft, even plush. "P-p-padding? I guess it w-wouldn't hurt," she said. "I'm not exactly P-pam Anderson up top."

Giggling a little, she stripped off the little black dress and examined her reflection in the full-length tri-fold mirrors. "W-w-wow," she murmured. "There's not a lot of m-me but what's there is cherce." She stared for a bit, then frowned. "I'm not the least turned on looking at a naked girl, b-because it's m-m-me?" She turned, trying a pose or two, recognizing the sexiness of her image but apparently immune to the impact.

What if Richard could see me? she thought. Her nipples got instantly hard. Oh, crud, am I in trouble. And I'm definitely going to have to wear a bra.

In the studio, Richard stopped playing with the drums and looked at some of the other stuff in the room. He found a filing cabinet beside the sound board and opened it up. Mostly full of sheet music, a few bills, invoices, warranty papers and the like. The third drawer down, though seemed to be full of packets, nine-by-twelve manila envelopes, all stuffed to the same thickness. He pulled one out, noted a Burbank P.O. Box return address, opened the envelope and pulled out the contents to spread on the sound desk.

His eyes got very wide.

In the dressing room, Jo finally fastened the bra without putting it on, then pulled it down over her head like a t-shirt, putting her arms through the straps. It only worked because of the exceptionally stretchy material of the bra but she had tried three times to fasten it behind her while watching in a mirror and got it crooked, the wrong hooks in the wrong loops, every time.

She tugged and pushed at things until the bra seemed to fit. Not exactly the most comfortable thing in the world, she told herself, but at least my new body won't be trying to advertise while I'm wearing it. I'm just not ready to deal with this boy-girl thing until I get the girl thing sorted out.

The shirt went on next and she fumbled with the wrong-way buttons for a bit but that seemed like a simple matter of adjusting her perception of the problem. After realizing they were just backwards, the buttoning went more easily. The slacks went on smoothly, fitting tightly at the waist and falling like caresses over her new curves. Hoo boy! she told her reflection. You are so not a boy. She examined her rear elevation, "I don't think the p-pants make my b-butt look b-big, b-but I do think I've got a b-b-big b-b-b-butt," she said out loud. She giggled.

Noticing in the mirror that she hadn't tied the lace at her throat, she flipped it into a casual butterfly knot that looked elegant and efficient. Whoa? Where have I done that before? she wondered. She found a pair of silky white socks and some square-toed black half-boots with an inch-and-a-half heel that looked as if they had been bought just to go with the suit. The heels did not feel excessive or dangerous but very comfortable and ordinary. Most of the shoes in her closet had heels that high or higher.

Her reflection pleased her in several odd ways, but.... "M-my hair," she said aloud. The short not-blond, not-red, not-brown shag looked out of place with her elegant blouse, as if she'd been scalped in her sleep by a malicious kid brother. She remembered the wigs in the other room, picked up the jacket and left the dressing room.

Through the door into the studio she could see Richard peering at something on what might be a sound-mixing board. (And if it wasn't, why did she think it was?) "What are you looking at?" she asked, falling without effort into a graceful pose in the doorway.

Richard looked up. Did a momentary flash of guilt cross his face? "Nothing, really," he said."Just some sheet music your band might have been using?"

"I have a b-b-band?" Jo asked.

"Apparently." Richard shuffled some papers together and stuffed them into a large envelope that he tossed casually on top of a filing cabinet. "Wow," he said when he gave her a second look."You look fantastic, like you've been doing this for years."

Jo ran a hand through her hair, "Except for m-my hair?"

"Uh, well, yeah, that pretty much sucks," he agreed. "Too short and no style." He came towards her. "The glasses look okay, though, make you look more intelligent."

Jo scowled at him. "W-what? Not so m-much like a ditz?"

"Well, an intelligent ditz." He grinned, stopping in front of her.

"Except for the hair?"

"Except for the hair," he agreed again.

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