Lucian Ch. 06

Some scents arouse us in conflicting ways.

They incite lust as well as fear, desire as well as apprehension - they're like a blend of cold sweat and intoxicating perfume.

The 25^th of June arrived, and Norton's Academy of Excellence was in turmoil.

Lucian learned that it was an important date; it was the day, 16 years ago, when the school had been established. It also was a day of reunion, when sponsors and alumni came from all over the States to meet and celebrate.

And it was the first time Lucian heard about a Third Level.

Norton's curriculum wasn't divided in years or semesters; there were just consecutive levels to master, however long each might take. Bobs were First Level, Barbs Second. And now he understood there was a Third Level: students informally nicknamed Boobs, who hardly ever came to Norton's anymore. Lucian heard whispers about them. Especially to Barbs they were almost mystical creatures - a kind of celebrities that should be envied and emulated.

The rumors said that these Third Level students did quality internships, or had already started carriers as actors or dancers, singers or models, some even abroad, in places like Paris and Italy. If they still followed classes it must be at a different academy; Lucian heard about one somewhere in California.

Adding to the thrill was the news that quite a few Third Level girls might attend the festivities this year.

Graduating from a level wasn't decided by time, it was marked by personal development - and that development was quite divers amongst the individual Bobs and Barbies.

Harper, for instance had already been a Bob for a year when Lucian arrived, but he didn't expect to graduate anytime soon. Charlie, on the other hand, arrived only months before Lucian, and he was supposed to already be very close to reaching Second Level. Even Kelly might graduate before Harper.

And what about Lucian himself?

At one of his frequent check ups he asked Dr. Kurtz how it worked.

She peeled the blue latex gloves off her fingers and threw them in the bin next to the examination table. Lucian let his legs dangle; being naked didn't bother him much anymore - it had become too common. Neither did he worry about the dripping of his spent penis - or the tingling of his anus that still echoed probing fingers and instruments.

"Well," she said, putting small glass tubes holding samples of his sperm and blood in a fridge, "you should ask Ms. Parker about that. She has the last word, but she regularly consults with a number of teachers, and with me. Of course there must be room available at the next level."

Lucian watched the sparkling arches his polished toenails made as he let his feet swing through the air.

"Why does it take some longer than others?" he asked.

Kurtz smiled.

"You may dress, honey," she said, walking over to her desk.

He picked up his satin top and pulled it over his hair. It was cream-colored and stretched tightly around his chest.

"Is it the size of the penis?" he asked.

The doctor snorted with laughter. She turned around, her eyes finding his.

"Of course not, silly," she said, her mouth doing its dubious smile. "Why on earth would you think that?"

He reached for his panties, but she checked his hand. Pushing at his naked inner thigh she gave herself a better view of his genitals. They were still pink from her ministrations.

She chuckled.

"If that would be the criterion, honey, you'd be past Third Level already."

Rising, she let her smile fade.

"Please sit down," she said.

They sat at her desk; it was strewn with objects and papers.

"A mistake most regular schools make," she began, "is to believe all students grow up in more or less the same time and with the same speed."

She smiled, looking him up and down.

"You, honey, of all people should know how wrong that is. Now look at your classmates. Take Charlie and compare him to, say, Kelly. Who would you graduate first?"

He knew very well it should be Charlie. But why he automatically thought so was quite disturbing, to say the least.

"It's Charlie, of course," Kurtz said for him when he didn't answer.

"Because he is the most girly," Lucian blurted out.

The doctor stared at him; then she slowly shook her head.

"No," she said. "He is, but that's not all of it."

She rearranged a few objects on her desk. He noticed that her fingernails were shorter than ever. Did she bite them?

"Wouldn't you agree," she finally went on, "that Charlie Washinsky has... grown a lot these last months? I don't mean taller or bigger, but that there is a kind of air around him - a self assuredness you wouldn't find in Kelly, or Jo, or Harper, for that matter?"

Or myself, he thought.

He rose from the chair, picking up his panties and shorts and pulling them on. As he tied the shining ribbons of his ballet shoes, Kurtz called his name. He looked up.

"Don't you wonder at all?" she asked. "I mean about little Charlie's sudden development?"

Of course he didn't. Who was she kidding? Wasn't she the one doing the injections and prescribing the pills, drawing blood and milking penises? Didn't she know what Ms. Fontaine and Mamselle did, week after week, class after class?

Again not waiting for his answer she said:

"He stopped resisting, Lucian, and he started embracing. Charlie realizes who he really is, and he loves what he finds."

He shrugged.

"So you broke him," he said.

Kurtz rushed to him, her hands on his shoulders; her face in his.

"No!" she exclaimed. "Not at all! We break nobody here, ever. Look at yourself, Lucian. Look hard and be honest. Even if we wanted to: what is there to break? What other roads would you take, even if you could? What other roads are there anyway?"

He pulled himself free from her touch, recalling her hysterics at Christmas Eve. He rose.

"Bye," he said, turning and leaving the office.

Dr. Kurtz picked up her phone.

***

The growing excitement at Norton's Academy of Excellence about the approaching festivities had more than one reason.

First of course there was the gathering of so many famous strangers - successful alumni, maybe a few of the fabled Boobs and all these no doubt wealthy sponsors. Well anyway, the sole fact of seeing new faces at all was reason enough for excitement, wasn't it?

With a shock Lucian wondered if his mother might be amongst the guests. Then he shook his head - she wouldn't, not now. And his father would certainly first shoot himself before setting a foot in here.

He chuckled at the thought, imagining the man's disgust.

Then there was the Performance as a second cause for excitement.

Lucian looked out of the window where bulky men built a podium on the main lawn. It was big and looked professional with a high, shell-like roof and intricate metal constructions for spotlights. Big speakers were tested; chairs and tables were loaded down from a truck.

Most of the afternoon and evening's program would be filled with a demonstration of the students' accomplishments, while the visitors enjoyed cocktails and dinner. There would be music and singing, ballet of course and acrobatics. Lucian wouldn't take part in that. His only outstanding quality so far was running, really, which of course could hardly be demonstrated on a stage; let alone be appreciated.

So he was selected for the catwalk.

Fashion was a Barb-thing, Fashion Designer being one of the specializations open to Second Levelers. Another one was Beautician, very popular if you didn't have the talent for music or dance, acting or modeling.

He remembered his conflicting feelings when Ms. Wilkins asked him to participate. She was the Fashion teacher - tall, thin and sophisticated, always looking extravagantly beautiful in creations she made herself.

He liked her taste, appreciating her boldness.

Her question had made him blush, looking away as a rush of mixed arousal and anxiety blocked his voice.

Mixed feelings seemed to be his regular state of mind, lately - or was it the fact that they weren't mixed at all, really? Maybe it was just his scared brain still fighting what he'd already made peace with, deep down - a last effort to check his unwelcome excitement?

Lucian had always loved the international catwalks.

Secretly he'd looked out for their shows on his laptop and in the many glossy magazines of his mother, caught up by the magical world it represented - a world of bewildering beauty. He liked fashion - the bold and original creations, the self assured models and their shameless urge to exhibit their bodies. At school he knew he had better taste than most girls - sometimes biting his tongue not to comment or suggest improvements.

His deeper feelings weren't mixed at all, he knew; he was just scared of them.

Maybe Kurtz was right. Maybe all this school had to do was peel off that fear. Maybe all it took to graduate was to dissolve your self-consciousness.

He turned away from the window, watching the girl next to him.

She wore a long, fully skirted dress made from layers of light, gauzy material. It had a tight, square-cut top with spaghetti straps that left her delicate clavicles free, as well as a big part of her chest. The fabric was so sheer that it took strips of embroidered silver sequins to know it was there at all.

The girl smiled as her hand picked up the skirts.

"We need to run, Lucian," she said, fluttering the long lashes of her violet eyes.

He looked down past the deep V-cut of his own dress-top. It exposed his pale chest almost to his belly button. The strips of silver ran like sparkling streams from his shoulders past his waist to the hem that touched the ground.

Picking up his skirts made the fabric rustle.

He followed Charlie to Fashion Class, feeling the wispy silk flow against his legs.

'She,' he'd thought when he looked at Charlie - 'she' and 'girl.' It felt true. He wondered what the boy's thoughts had been, looking at him. He shook his head.

Below his worrying brain his feelings weren't mixed at all, were they?

Not really.

***

The catwalk was about four feet high, level with the stage where it started.

It ran out onto the lawn, amidst clusters of tables and chairs where the invited sponsors, alumni and their companions sat or stood around - drinking, chatting and eating.

The sun sank beneath the horizon, allowing dusk to darken the balmy June air. Hundreds of candles illuminated the tables. A fat moon floated like a ghost in the cloudless sky.

Lucian watched from backstage with the other models - dressed and made up for their show later on. Feathery fingertips of excitement touched his throat.

He recalled the dress rehearsal they did this morning - under the scrutinizing eyes of the workmen who weren't shy at all to show their appreciation with whistles and catcalls. He'd felt very self-conscious, watching the floor and concentrating on where his feet should go. The way the soft fabric caressed his legs as he moved sent flashes of perfumed anxiety up his chest.

Ms. Wilkins had exhorted him to look up and be proud, in her high, affected voice. But it had been Charlie's smile that encouraged him, making the prying world go away for a minute.

Back here on stage, standing in the wings, the first performance he saw was a string quartet of three Barbs he knew and one girl he'd never seen before.

She played the lead violin with amazing skill and flair.

She also looked stunning, wearing a long, flowing red dress with a generous cleavage. It showed high and very round breasts - one pressing up against the violin's curve.

"She's Maxime O'Connor," someone whispered behind him. "She's got a Juilliard scholarship, you know."

He watched the violinist closer.

So it was true? Norton's did produce more than just sissified airheads? He watched another girl playing the cello, hugging the instrument between her long legs. She was Nico, the Asian waitress. He also recognized the Barb playing second violin.

A loud applause woke him up.

When it died down again, a tall blonde with a guitar walked down the stage, right up to the edge, where she strummed her instrument.

She wore a checkered shirt, tied below her breasts, leaving her tanned belly bare. Her pale-blue skinny jeans hugged very long legs until they disappeared in heeled cowboy boots.

Her voice was clear as a bell when she started a bluesy song.

Shivers ran down Lucian's bare back. He'd never been a big fan of country songs or even blues, but the girl's melancholy voice touched nerves that went straight to his tear glands.

After her applause the girl explained that she'd written the song especially for Norton's, in memory of the years she'd spent here and as a thanks for the wonderful opportunity the school had offered her.

Then she started a second song.

"She's Bobbi Caroll," the same voice whispered into his ear.

He'd heard the name - something about a new voice in Nashville. But he'd never really given attention.

After the singer Ms. Parker took the microphone, standing straight in her severely corseted outfit - a dark blot against the evening sky.

Lucian recalled the Christmas speech, wondering if Drew again would be able to predict every word Parker was going to say. The memory made him wonder where the girl might be. He hadn't seen her for months, neither at running practice nor at these last days of preparations.

Bored by Parker's P.R. speech, his eyes wandered to the twinkling clusters of light on the lawn.

Every damask-clad table was a pool of white, shining with wavering candlelight against rapidly darkening surroundings. Each table held a circle of about ten guests, men and women alternately.

Half of the men had balding heads and gray hair, but most of the women were young, some might even be girls.

It was impossible from where he stood to discern the individual faces. The men all wore tuxedos, the women gowns in black, white, gold, silver and a range of pastel colors. Many shoulders were bare, and most of the dresses' tops were deeply cut. The whole audience looked up to the stage where the headmistress droned on.

Lucian knew his show would start as soon as Parker was done.

A hand pulled at his skirt. He nodded at Charlie. The two of them would be walking side by side down the catwalk. He marveled how her simple smile could scare his demons away so easily.

Straight through the polite applause their music started - loud and pulsing. He took his place beside Charlie and behind two Barbs in very tight outfits, balancing on impossible heels.

White spotlights streamed down on them as they started sashaying out into the night, one ballet-shoed foot in front of the other - gliding the Norton's glide. The applause they walked into seemed to part like a modern day Red Sea.

The lights were warm and so was the summer air.

Looking aggressively, frowning almost angrily like real models do, Lucian pouted his lips, making his blond bangs dance over his eyes. It was what Ms. Wilkins wanted.

But when he saw sweet Charlie try it, he had to smile.

The whole thing felt blessedly like a fairytale - sweet and pink and utterly unreal.

Remembering the photo shoot and other embarrassing moments, Lucian let his gaze float at mid height, avoiding faces. Most of them hid in darkness anyway, covered by the blazing floodlights. But when he reached the end of the catwalk he had to look down not to stumble while turning back.

That was when he saw her.

It was just a glimpse, maybe lasting a second, but he knew it was Drew. She looked different, not a girl now, a woman. Her hair was cut and no longer blond. She wore a very bare bluish dress, almost nothing, really, and there was something different about her body.

Another thing he saw in the short flash was that she sat in the lap of a man - an old, fat man who had his arm around her. And right before Lucian turned away, he saw her head go to the man's, nudging her face into his jowl.

He almost stumbled on his way back to the stage, where they had to rush to change dresses.

When he came back to the edge of the catwalk, wearing a salmon little number - like a mini skirted tennis dress over bare legs and white socks in pink unlaced Dr. Martin's boots - he saw Drew was gone, and so was the fat man. Their chairs were empty.

The show lasted two more outfits.

One was a gold bikini top and short shorts, worn with gold trainers, the other a cognac colored silk cocktail dress, short skirt and heeled pumps to go with the entourage of a bride in abundant white satin and lace.

When they received the final applause, standing as a group around Ms. Wilkins, facing the crowd, Lucian saw Drew again.

She didn't sit at the table, but was standing at the edge of the lawn, rather close to one of the lanterns. She was with another girl, a Barb he knew; the fat man wasn't with them. Both women were checking each other's hair, make up and slinky outfits. As Drew turned towards the light, Lucian knew what had made her look different.

She had breasts.

As he was pushed and pulled and embraced by the crowd of excited Barbs around him, he could only see glimpses, but there seemed to be telltale shadows in her wide cleavage - and the dress really didn't allow for stuffing.

Then he saw her push aside the dress's top, shaking her upper body to show the other girl, and they both collapsed in laughter.

The breasts weren't much, but they sure were there.

Was this why they were called Boobs? Had Drew graduated? To what, and where did she go? He knew she had no real specialization - she didn't sing or dance or even do make up beyond the general program. She was a great runner, but never showed much ambition.

And besides - as what gender could she ever officially compete?

The high-flying feelings that had engulfed him in the collective exhilaration after the show ebbed away. Things hadn't been right between him and Drew, but why didn't she tell him she was leaving?

Was this what happened with Barbs when they graduated from Norton's? Maybe Drew had been sent off to be an intern - at a hospital, maybe? But she wasn't a real nurse, was she?

She might be at a regular college to become one.

Lucian knew he couldn't ask her - not tonight, as the lawn was a no go area for Bobs. They were supposed to return to the building after their shows, grab a bite and go back to their quarters.

***

Lucian watched the melee of people on the lawn.

Through one of the hallway's tall windows he heard music coming from the stage, but from where he stood he couldn't really see what was going on.

Half of the guests must have left already, but some were still dancing - men and women, and also groups of girls, being watched by men. They turned and swayed their bodies in sleek gowns and tight mini dresses - or parts of those.

He heard a sigh.

Charlie stood next to him, shivering in the same short robe he wore. His blond hair was wet from the shower; his cheeks had a pink hue.

"Isn't it fun?" he murmured, leaning in to see more.

"You'd love to be there, don't you?" Lucian asked.

The boy just nodded, his eyes never leaving the scene.

"I'm on my way there, you know," Charlie then said. "Why don't you join me?"

Lucian turned his head to the boy in amazement, catching shining eyes and blushing cheeks.

"But we can't," he said. "We are Bobs."

Charlie shrugged.

"You're save," he said. "They won't notice. I see no teachers. I don't even see Parker anymore."

He grabbed Lucian's hand and pulled him with him.

Feeling giddy like kids after curfew, they slunk through the corridors, slipping out and flitting from shadow to shadow until they reached the side of the stage.