Zephyr

This Bobby had sent Tamara e-mail, apologizing for his actions. This Bobby had come into his room and said he was ready to go to jail, to take his just desserts.

He watched as Bobby jumped up and cleared the dishes off the table, then bends over and stacked them in the dishwasher. The position made the hem of the jersey ride up and ex [sped his round ass and blonde pussy. The lips were plump and pink, protruding slightly from the mound.

"Oops!" Bobby giggled and pulled the hem back down. "Going to have to get something a little more appropriate to sleep in."

"Uh huh," Derek said and left the kitchen.

****

"Dude, what can I say?" Derek said. "He finally coughed up some bucks, all right?"

Derek listened as Greg complained bitterly about already being packed, already having cut the utilities, effective Wednesday.

"Look, Bobby came up with some money, asked for just a few more days," Derek said. "I know you were supposed to move in, but..."

Bobby knocked softly on the doorjamb. Derek looked at her; she was dressed in her slinky white and red striped top and red and white striped skirt. She looked very unhappy.

"Greg, got to go; talk at you later," Derek said and hung up.

"Um, listen, I, um, I can sleep out here, on the couch," Bobby offered. "You and Greg are friends and he was supposed to be moving in and it's not right; I been sponging off you long enough."

"You sure?" Derek asked.

Bobby nodded his head and left the doorway.

****

"Come on," Derek said.

"Where're we going?" Bobby asked, excited to be leaving the apartment, his prison for the past twenty-four hours.

"Don't know," Derek admitted. "But last night, you said you need a bra; Brandee's didn't fit you."

"Yeah, but that's a lot of money," Bobby argued as Derek guided them to the bus stop.

"I didn't say we were going to get you a Rolls-Royce," Derek joked. "Just a bra, oh and something to sleep in, especially if you're going to be sleeping on the couch."

The bus grumbled and groaned to a stop and the two got on. The driver's admiration of Bobby was direct, as was the looks many of the other males on the bus gave him and he edged closer to Derek for protection.

They got off in front of the discount Department Store and arrived just as the doors were being unlocked.

"Oh goody!" Bobby giggled. "We're the first ones here!"

"Yay!" Derek said unenthusiastically.

He steered them to the lingerie department; not an easy task as Bobby had to stop and look at nearly every rack of clothes.

The sales girl was very nice, very helpful and deduced that Bobby needed a 39 Double D bra.

"Last girl I measured for one of these was this dancer, over at, I think she said it was Hunter's, but her's were fake," the girl said. "I've never seen real ones this big before."

"Oh my God, Derek, that's it!" Bobby gasped and hugged him tightly. "I can be a dancer! They make a bunch of money and I can pay you back!"

"No shit," Derek said. "Yeah, that would definitely work, huh?"

"And in high school I took gymnastics so I could definitely do a lot of those moves that they do,' Bobby prattled on excitedly and swiveled and shimmied about in the middle of the lingerie department, much to the amusement of the sales girl and the much to the delight of the old man that was waiting for his wife to make her selection.

"Oh, I also need some panties, please Derek?" Bobby asked.

"We've got these three packs on sale," the girl offered.

"You're so sweet," he said, clutching the girl's arm. "Oh, and I need a sleep shirt; I've been wearing this ratty old football jersey, Derek doesn't mind, 'cause every time I bend over, I flash my pussy at him, but I can't even sit down in the damned thing."

"Something like this?" the girl asked, showing him a baby doll wit matching g-string panties.

"Oh!" Bobby gasped. "That is so pretty, can I have it Derek?"

"Yeah, sure, Derek agreed and had to shift his growing erection.

"Or something like this?" the girl asked, delighting in the discomfort evident on Derek's face.

"No," Derek said firmly. "A fish net camisole top and fish net panties? Definitely not."

"Aw, why not?" Bobby pouted.

"Because we have Greg moving in and I'm not having you running around the apartment dressed like that," Derek hissed at Bobby.

"You're right, he's right," Bobby pouted. "Just get me a couple of 'old lady' flannel nighties."

"I didn't say they had to be 'old lady,' but you have to remember, other people have to look at you," Derek said.

"No, you're right," Bobby said, lightening up slightly. "Maybe I ought to put that baby doll up."

"Well, Greg does go visit his mom from time to time; you can wear it when he's out of the apartment," Derek offered.

"Yeah, how's his mom doing? She had gall bladder surgery, right?" Bobby asked and looked longing at the camisole set.

"Uh yeah, yeah, that's right," Derek said, surprised. "She's recovering all right; Greg's sister lives with her."

Derek motioned to the sales girl to include the camisole set in the other charges while Bobby wandered off to look at the geans that were on sale.

"You're one lucky son of a bitch," the old man congratulated Derek as he walked past.

"And how much money do you have?" Derek asked Bobby as yet another bag of clothing as added to the several he already clutched.

"None," Bobby admitted and hung his head. "All right, we can go."

"Uh, uh," Derek said. "You need to get at least one pair of decent shoes; those look horrible."

"But I already owe you too much," Bobby argued as they walked to the shoe section.

"Exactly, so what's another thirty or forty bucks?" Derek asked and looked at some four-inch heels.

Bobby found a pair in his size and tried them on.

"Oh God, these are hard to walk in," he complained to Derek, but seemed to have the knack after a few moments.

"How do they look?" he asked and Derek shrugged his shoulders.

"They look great, but are they comfortable? Are you going to be able to wear them for a long time?" Derek asked.

"Hmm," Bobby thought, then shook his long blonde hair. "Probably not; but they are cute."

"Dude, we're not buying you shoes 'cause they're cute, we're buying you shoes to wear," Derek reminded him. "Here, try these."

"Ew, those are ugly," Bobby said.

"Fine, fine, pick out your own shoes," Derek said and sat down.

Chapter 6

Her father was outraged when the burly guard at the entrance refused to let him go up to see his daughter.

"Sir, I'm asking you to leave," the guard said, menacingly. "Don't make me TELL you to leave."

****

"I'm hungry," Bobby announced when they left the store.

The smell of a nearby chain restaurant wafted over and Derek's own stomach growled.

"I'm not the only one," Bobby teased, nudging Derek in his belly.

"Fine, fine, come on," Derek smiled and Bobby skipped toward the restaurant.

"Even though I'm hungry, I probably ought to just get a salad; my butt is already big enough," Bobby declared as he pulled the door open for Derek.

The waiter was nearly blatant in his attention to Bobby and in his attempts to peer down Bobby's top. Finally, Bobby glared at the waiter, letting him know that the attention was unwelcome.

"Goddamn, can't a girl get something to eat without all that shit?" he asked Derek.

"Don't know, never had to put up with it before," Derek admitted.

Because of all the bags, Derek sprung for a cab home and shifted several times; Bobby sat right next to him, head on his shoulder, arm clutched possessively in his small hands.

Derek had always been extremely shy, extremely uncomfortable around females. That was part of the reason Tamara appealed to him; as damaged as she was, as skittish as she was, she was unthreatening to Derek's own fragile ego.

Bobby's affectionate nature, sexiness, and beauty made him very threatening to Derek. Just as the male counterpart had made Derek feel insignificant and powerless, so too did the female Bobby.

Bobby attempted to carry the bulk of the bags himself, but finally Derek took them all, except for the four boxes of shoes and told Bobby to go open the door for them.

"Thank you," Bobby said sincerely when the apartment door was closed behind them.

"Huh, for what?" Derek asked.

"For the clothes, and for taking me out to eat," Bobby said and pressed himself against Derek. "I don't know why I never noticed before, but you're very sweet."

"Uh, you're welcome, but remember, you're paying me back for all that stuff," Derek stammered.

"I know, but can't I just say 'thank you?'" he pouted.

"And I said 'you're welcome,'" Derek said, wishing Bobby would back up, give him some room.

The telephone rang, giving Derek the excuse to go to his room.

"Hey, that's great," Bobby heard Derek say.

"Must be Tamara," Bobby said, and felt a pang of jealousy.

He looked through the several bags that were scattered on the couch a squealed when he saw the fishnet camisole set.

"I'm wearing that tonight!" he decided. "Greg's not here yet, I'm wearing that tonight."

"Well, let's see, I got classes until, Monday? My last class is at four and visiting hours are until six? Okay, I'll see you tomorrow! I love you!" Derek said happily and hung up the phone.

He came out of his room and saw Bobby reorganizing the hall closet.

"What're you doing?" he asked.

"Well, if Greg's moving in, he's probably going to want the closet in that room, right?" Bobby said and hung up the clothes that Brandee had given him.

He looked over his shoulder at Derek.

"And I'm not going to go into that room every time I need something; I know he's your friend, but he's kind of creepy, you know? And you don't want me in your room, so..." Bobby went on and started hanging up the new clothes.

Every time he reached up, the hem on his skirt lifted, very nearly exposing his backside. Derek sat down on the couch, enjoying the show.

"Real question is, what do I do with all my old clothes?" he mused aloud and bent over to get some more clothes out of the bags scattered around his feet.

Derek smiled; the thong panties were very nice, a very pretty pink satin. They were tight, giving Bobby's crotch a 'camel toe'

"I mean, when all of this is over, now why did I buy this? Did it look cute in the store? 'Cause I hate that color, but when all of this is over, I'm not going to be able to wear any of this stuff, oh this is cute, I don't remember getting this, and do you remember getting this? When did we buy this?" Bobby prattled on.

"We could box up your old clothes," Derek suggested.

"Yeah, but there's no room in here," Bobby stomped his foot.

"We'll keep the boxes in my closet until that time, okay?" Derek offered.

"Thank you, I don't know why you're being so sweet to me, I really don't deserve it, are you going to see Tamara tomorrow?" Bobby babbled.

"Uh yeah, yeah, that was her on the phone; sounded pretty good," Derek said, again looking at Bobby's very cute rear end as he started stacking the boxes of shoes in the closet.

"Oh, damn it, we forgot all about purses!" Bobby cursed. "This purse doesn't go with ANYTHING!"

"Guess you'll just have to make do with your backpack for a couple of days," Derek suggested.

"Yeah, THAT'LL look cute," Bobby, pouted.

"You're turning into a selfish, self-centered bitch," Derek warned.

Bobby gasped and stared at him for a long moment, tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

"You're right," he whispered, bottom lip quivering "Instead of being grateful for what I do have, I'm just looking at what I don't."

****

Greg happily taped the last box shut; he'd just wear the jeans and tee shirt for two days, no need to drag dirty clothes to the new apartment.

He hoped Tamara would get better soon and be a frequent visitor at the apartment; he had a big crush on the girl. As soon as she saw that Derek was nothing but an arrogant egghead, she'd be able to see that Greg was a man, a real man.

He also hoped that Bobby would be leaving his bed behind. He'd been sleeping on an air mattress for the past three years and could make do with it for a few more years, but sleeping on a bed would be welcome.

And if Tamara didn't come to her senses, some girls never did, Terri was doable. She had quite a bit of meat on them bones that gave her some nice tits. She had a sweet face, she was definitely doable.

****

"What you think?" Bobby asked, posing in the camisole top and panties.

"I uh, um, that's nice, very nice," Derek mumbled

"Yeah?" Bobby giggled and turned around, giving Derek a good long look at his rear end in the translucent panties.

Derek quickly shifted his painfully erect cock.

"Yeah, yeah, that's real nice," Derek, said.

"Thanks again, I really appreciate it," Bobby said and disappeared from the doorway.

Derek did his lesson plans for the week ahead, and then had to get up and go to the bathroom. Two pulls of his cock and he was spurting a long stream of semen into the toilet bowl.

"What you think?" Bobby asked him as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Bobby had pestered Derek to buy a container of the body glitter that the dancers often wore and Derek had given in.

Bobby stepped back and gyrated and shook and swayed, still dressed in the camisole set.

"Nice, that really is nice," Derek stammered, voice squeaking.

"Sexy, right?" Bobby demanded.

"Sexy, very sexy," Derek agreed.

"Okay, I think I'll wear the pink shorts and black tee shirt to apply at The Sahara, what you think?" Bobby as he walked to his room. "You got room for them boxes?"

Derek couldn't help but look as Bobby, still in the camisole set, squatted and put the four cardboard boxes on the floor of Derek's closet. Then he stacked all of Derek's shoes neatly on top of the boxes.

"Good night," he said, then kissed Derek's lips.

He looked at Derek for a long moment, and then kissed him again.

"Tamara's such a lucky girl," he whispered, rubbing Derek's arm.

Derek had to go into the bathroom again after Bobby left his bedroom.

Chapter 7

Bobby was nervous as he entered The Sahara. Washington, the bouncer, he never did find out what the burly African American's full name was, made him uncomfortable with his long deliberate appraisal.

"Have to get used to it," he reminded himself. "If you're going to be running around naked, men are going to look at you."

Pat was very friendly, very encouraging as Bobby asked about becoming a dancer.

"All right, let's see some ID," Pat asked.

"Wait, what?" Bobby asked. "ID? Why? We get paid in cash, right? What you need ID for?"

"Honey, Cash or not, I still got to prove that all my dancers are at least eighteen years old," Pat explained.

"Oh, damn it, I lost my ID," Bobby said. "Can't you just let me work until I can find it?"

"Honey, you are a real hottie; they'd go crazy over you, but I ain't about to lose my license over one fucking kid can't prove she's old enough to dance," Pat said, cutting the interview short.

He waved to Tiffany and felt tears begin to form when the dancer scowled and gave him the finger.

Donna, the manager of Hunter's, also wanted to see some ID. The harsh looking red head had definitely been rode hard and put up wet and Bobby was secretly glad to be rejected by the unfriendly woman.

"Hey!" Brandee called out as she saw Bobby leaving Donna's office.

"Hey!" Bobby smiled, happy to see a friend. "I didn't know you worked here!"

"Yeah, just started actually," Brandee said. "Was working at The Sahara, but got so damned tired of Washington always coming in, grabbing ass. The customers can't do it, but ain't no law says the bouncer can't. Mother fucker don't take no for an answer either, just laughs and tells you 'white girl needs a little black dick, know what I'm saying?' So had enough of that shit, came over here. Pay's the same, so why not? You going to be working here too?"

"No, no, Donna wants ID and I don't got it," Bobby said dejectedly. "And yes, Brandee, yes there is a law that says Washington can't just grab ass. A girl's got the right to say no, even if she is a dancer, she still has the right to say no."

"Yeah well, try telling THAT to the cops," Brandee said. "Oops, got to go, customer just walked in."

"Bye," Bobby said and stepped out of the dark interior into the bright sunlight.

Cadillac's was the same; no ID, no job. Bobby had a sneaking suspicion that Centerfold's would not require ID, but he had no desire to work there. It was a thinly veiled secret that most of the dancers at Centerfold's were prostitutes. He'd gone there one time, when he first moved to the university and the women had struck him as haggard, unfriendly.

He walked back to the apartment and paused by the mailboxes. Steve, their downstairs neighbor came out.

Bobby smiled; he and Steve had a lot in common. They were both huge fans of death metal, thought that Derek and his friends were losers, and thought that women were stupid, pretty much good for only one thing. Steve was also an arrogant, haughty self-centered egotist. He and Bobby were buddies, pals, but both Steve and Bobby constantly tried to find chinks in the other's armor. At the first sign of any such chinks, the other would gladly take full advantage of the other.

"Hey," Steve greeted the hot looking blonde.

"Hi Steve," Bobby said.

"Hey, hey, um, hey, how you know my name?" Steve asked, puzzled.

Bobby realized his faux pas; Steve was his friend as Bobby, the male. As Bobby, the female, Steve didn't know him. And Steve probably wasn't the best choice of people to hang out with as long as he was female.

"Oh, um, you came out of the apartment right under Derek's and he said his downstairs neighbor was Steve, that's right, Huh?" Bobby thought quickly.

"Uh yeah, that's right; you uh, you Bobby's girlfriend, huh?" Steve asked, getting very close to Bobby, infringing on Bobby's personal space.

"No, I'm Derek's girlfriend," Bobby said. "Please step back; you are entirely too close."

"Hey, hey, just talking," Steve said but did not move back.

"Steve, I asked you to step back," Bobby said. "Don't make me MAKE you step back."

Assertive females were not something Bobby or Steve were accustomed to.

"God, I see Derek likes himself some stuck up bitches," Steve hissed and went back to his apartment.

"And that was my friend?" Bobby asked himself, shaking his head.

****

Derek came home and found a despondent Bobby sitting n the couch.

"I drank a beer, wrote it down on your sheet," Bobby said flatly.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked.

"Nothing," Bobby sulked.

"God damn it, why do women do that shit?" Derek yelled. "I asked you what's wrong? I don't want to sit here and guess; just tell me what the fuck is wrong."

"Don't yell at me!" Bobby burst into tears. "It's been a horrible day!"

"Okay, okay, we'll deal with it when I get back," Derek said, after Bobby quit crying long enough to tell him about the problem with identification.

He wiped Bobby's pink lip-gloss off of his lips and waited for the bus. Steve, the downstairs neighbor, pulled out of the parking lot. At first, Steve did his normal pretense of not even seeing Derek there; Derek was unimportant to him. Then he slammed on the brakes and back Ed up and rolled down the passenger window.

"Hey," he yelled over the intolerable clang of Judas Priest.

"Yeah?" Derek sneered.

"I um, I saw your girlfriend this afternoon, dude, what are YOU doing with such a hot piece of ass like that?" Steve asked.

"At first Derek was outraged; how dare this pompous ass talk about Tamara like that? Then he realized, Steve probably meant Bobby, not Tamara. He couldn't help at snicker at Steve lusting after his own friend.

"Same thing you'd be doing," Derek said.

Steve decided, as hot as the girl living with Derek was, any more conversation with the dork was pointless so he jammed on the gas and drove away from Derek.