Funhouse Reflections

The spark still burned behind Wyatt's eyes.

For a second she couldn't tell if the light in the hallway was flickering or if it was just her vision shaking loose from what had happened. The air smelled faintly of ozone, but more alarming than that was the sense that she had, for a moment, been opened. Something or some power had reached into Wyatt and taken a look around.

Why had she been so careless? Why had she reached over to touch her best friend? There was still so much the pair didn't know about what was happening to them, especially what happened when they touched, and now Wyatt had exposed them both. She shook her head and looked down in shame.

But that feeling only lasted a moment.

Because when she looked down, Wyatt's eyes weren't drawn into the depths of self-loathing that usually came with a mishap. No, they were drawn to Gary's black skirt. There, in the front, she could just make out a bump, a sign of what he held inside. She and Gary had been friends for a long time, but she couldn't remember ever seeing his penis. Now, watching his skirt shift, she imagined what it looked like, hidden away in his panties, waiting for someone to free it, to appreciate it. She licked her lips at the thought, a pulse of heat between her own legs reinforcing the idea.

And then she realized what she was thinking about.

Her throat went dry.

"I... er..." she stammered, backing away. "Need to go. I'll see you tonight."

Her voice came out wrong—breathier, lighter. She turned and left before Gary could see the flush crawling up her neck.

She didn't even go to her locker. Just kept walking, head down, breasts bouncing as she clutched her bag, her pulse hammering in her ears. The hallway buzzed with the noise of end-of-day chatter, but it felt distant, like she was hearing it from underwater. How had she allowed her mind to wander there? Why, even with the amount of horror she was feeling, did she still want to dwell on it. On, you know, it.

Every few steps she caught a reflection of herself in the glass cases along the wall. She was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. In no universe could she imagine the tiny skirt and bikini top she was wearing meeting a school dress code, but nobody seemed to mind. In fact, it was the opposite. She was accepted, encouraged, even welcomed in how she was dressed. And how she was acting.

When she passed a group of guys from the basketball team, she meant to keep her eyes on the floor, not wanting to draw the ire of a bully. Instead she found herself smiling. Then—God help her—she winked.

They grinned back, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Wyatt kept walking, but she could feel the electricity humming under her skin, a kind of restless, liquid energy that made her want to move, to be seen.

Outside, the air was bright and sharp with spring. She caught another reflection in the window of the idling bus and hesitated. The driver gave a short honk and motioned her on.

The bus was crowded, people pressed shoulder to shoulder, but the seat next to her stayed empty until a an older man in a grey suit climbed aboard. He gave her a nod and sat down with a sigh. For a moment, they just rode in silence, the hum of the engine filling the space.

Then Wyatt noticed her hand. Instead of resting on her lap like she had intended, it had made its way onto the man's thigh. Her eyes went wide. Her fingers squeezed gently.

The man didn't even flinch. He gave her a polite smile, the kind you give anyone, and went back to staring out the window.

Not ready to stand up and get off the bus yet, Wyatt watched as her hand slid up the man's thigh, farther and farther, until it was resting on the man's groin. There. She could feel it. The man had a sizable bulge hidden in his suit pants. Her fingers traced its outline, its girth.

She shivered in pleasure.

Yes, that was what she wanted, what she needed. This strange man, tired from his day, heading home to a life that might be equally unsatisfying, could use a pick-me-up. And Wyatt wanted nothing more but to be that pick-me-up.

Wait.

Was that what she really wanted?

Her hand slipped off the man's groin and back onto her own lap, folded neatly with the other one. What had gotten into her? Looking down at the man's groin, she could see that he was now sporting a large erection, but when he turned and looked at her again, he just smiled and commented on the weather.

He hadn't noticed what she was doing. Nobody had. To them, she was still just Wyatt—quiet, nerdy, harmless.

Male.

By the time she got home, the sky had begun to go orange. Chet, her bullet-head older brother, was sprawled on the couch, half-watching a rerun of some reality show. He glanced over when she stepped in.

"Hey, dweeb," he said, grinning. "Nice shoes."

Wyatt blinked, looking down. While she'd come to expect snide remarks from Chet, there was no hint of sarcasm in his tone. He, in fact, seemed to genuinely be giving a compliment on her heels.

"Thanks," she said automatically, and flopped onto the armchair across from him, crossing her exposed legs at the knee.

"So what's the plan tonight? You going out?"

"No," she said, uneasy about how nice her brother was being. "Lisa's coming over. He'll be staying here for a week."

Chet's head snapped up. "Lisa? As in, the hot one? The one with the legs?"

Wyatt wanted to respond, but her mouth was still opening and closing, trying to understand why she'd called her best friend 'Lisa'.

"I mean Lisa," she finally said, again getting Gary's name wrong. "You know, Lisa. Lisa! My best friend."

Chet laughed, smacking the arm of the couch. "Fantastic! Hot damn! A little eye candy to spruce up the place." Chet's grin turned predatory for a moment. "With mom and dad gone, you're finally getting a girl to stay over! Play your cards right and you'll get yourself a girlfriend. And maybe, if you're not interested, I'll catch him in the hallway at night, you know, an unexpected encounter with the old Chet-ster."

Wyatt rolled her eyes, but her pulse thudded. She didn't have the energy to argue. Something had happened. Chet was treating Gary like a girl, and Wyatt couldn't say his name! What the hell had happened with that spark?!

Without saying anything, she climbed to her feet and made her way upstairs. Whatever it was that had happened was beyond her power. What was done was done. Unless she figured out a way to fix it, this was going to be par for the course the rest of her life. Somehow her life had become a funhouse mirror, and she was the only one who knew how the reflection was supposed to look.

She thought of Gary again. The way he'd looked in that skirt, the way his cheeks had looked flushed. What was it about him that she suddenly wanted so badly? She'd never been into guys before, nor had she ever had a sexual thought about her best friend. But she couldn't deny it. Gary was moving in, and part of her was glad for reasons she wasn't entirely comfortable admitting. And knowing what she knew about what happened when they touched, she wondered if she was going to be able to keep her hands to herself.