X-Man
by Babs Yerunkle
From the "X-Men Evolution" universe, beginning
after the end of the first season.
Chapter 24: Duncan do-nots
A couple of shifts during the night seemed to have erased
both the pain of my bruises and all visible traces. But my trainers weren't yet aware of that benefit of my
shapeshifting powers, and I didn't feel obligated to tell them. It was nice to have an edge. I did spend some time with Dr. McTaggart,
discussing the anti-choking modifications Jackie had speculated about.
"Now this is a way to use those powers that I actually
approve of. Not running away from your
problems, but *solving* them." She
paused. "But the neck is pretty
well put together. There's not a lot of
room to re-route things. Hmmm, you
could give yourself a tracheotomy. That
would help the whole breathing problem."
She began to pull out medical references and showed me the illustrations.
"Moira, I may look like a teenager, but I *do* have a
doctorate in biology."
"Yes, specializing in cellular chemistry. We're talking about reworking the blood flow
to your brain. You might appreciate the
input from an actual doctor."
"Good point," I admitted. "But for the tracheotomy, I was
thinking of routing things lower – through the chest."
"Penetrate the sternum? That doesn't seem wise."
"No, routing around the sides of the sternum, sort of
like gills." I drew a quick sketch
to show her. "Which would leave
room in the throat to move the jugular and carotid inward."
We discussed details and tried to work up a training
program. Almost before I was ready, it
was time for morning training. I was
excused for the morning, due to my presumed bruises. Instead, Charles helped me expand my mind, so I headed to his
office and assumed my position in his overstuffed armchair.
"Let's begin with some mental calisthenics," he
suggested, in what he probably thought was humor. "First, I want you to detect my mental probing. Hold your hand up each time you feel a
mental touch."
After a few minutes of that he commented, "Not
bad. The subtle probes still elude you,
but you're definitely improving. Now,
using just mental skill, not your shapeshifting ability, I want you to close
your mind to me."
This was followed by five minutes of defensive training.
"Finally, the most difficult part, opening your
mind. You need to be an active
participant here." He stopped for
a moment and gave a sigh. "In many
ways I envy you, Rogue. What you have
is somewhat like an improved variant of telepathy. Your ability allows you to acquire endless memories and skills,
relatively painlessly. And it's easy to
manage, as well. You acquire a gigantic
block of *potential* memories. Those
that you actually access, particularly if you actively use the skills, those
memories are retained while the rest evaporate like the morning mist.
"In contrast, when I wish to impart skills or memories,
I have to take exacting care. If I dump
things in too quickly, you'll get nothing more than schizophrenic flashes. It could take you months to fully integrate
the memories."
"Wait a minute," I asked. "Are you saying that when I drain
people, the only parts I 'keep' are the parts of their memories that I actually
use? That there's no extra clutter left
behind?"
He gave a small smile.
"Well, I've examined you deeply.
There are no lingering bits of their personality cluttering up your
subconscious, if that's what you were worried about. I looked for that specifically after your contact with Bo."
I breathed a sigh of relief. I had once drained a piece of human waste named Bo. He'd died during my 'possession' of
him. Well, let me be honest. With Bo's attitudes in the forefront of my
mind, I had killed every obstacle in my path, Bo included. Later that gruesome personality had faded,
but I still lived in fear that bits of him lingered, like filth, in the depths
of my mind.
"So I have control over what I remember long-term. Anything I use, anything I try to
deliberately think about or remember, those are the parts I keep?"
"So it would seem.
Your powers are still evolving, Rogue.
Not so long ago, during an earlier contact with Mystique, apparently
traces *were* left deeper than your waking memory. From what we know now, it's possible that these memories
interacted with your own childhood memories, and formed some sort of
synergistic connection. On the other
hand, your powers seem to be settling down as you use them. Remember that your first use, touching the
boy Cody, left him in a coma for days.
Now, based on your own research with Dr. Trautwein, you seemed to have
plateaued at a sixty-to-one ratio, so that the drain lasts for almost exactly
sixty times as long as you maintained the initial skin contact."
I filed away the new information, about the deep
memories. "Relieving, to
know. But remember Professor, I'm not
really Rogue. I don't remember
Cody. Not first-hand, anyway. That's what this training is about. Getting Rogue's memories back where they
belong."
He nodded.
"Yes, which requires the ability from you to hold your mind open,
even under powerful stress."
I didn't have a headache yet, so I said, "I'm
ready. Let's begin."
*****
Playing dress-up in my room wasn't the sort of thing to help
cure my headache.
It had been fine at first.
Jean and Jackie-Rogue had been exhausted from the workout, and Kitty
just seemed to want to curl up on her bed.
But Kitty had decided that she needed to 'fix' my hair, and the other
two girls seemed to absorb energy in the very thought of dressing me up. I guess it was like having a grown-up doll
or something.
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this!"
"Hey, you're the one who agreed to it," Jackie
pointed out to me, smugly. "One
date with 'a fairly hot guy.' I think
the star quarterback of the football team counts for that." She and Jean exchanged high fives.
Kitty stayed quiet.
She kept to her place behind me, brushing out my waist-length hair. I could have used my powers to undo the
knots, but this felt surprisingly good.
I didn't want to admit that it had almost completely cured my headache.
"I didn't think you'd take me up on it right away. And I figured you meant one of the guys,
like Scott or someone."
Jean frowned a bit at that.
I was still having trouble figuring out exactly what her relationship
with Scott was. I certainly knew how
Scott felt about her, and she was a telepath so you'd think she knew, too, but
he'd seemed awfully concerned about whether she'd wait for him. I decided that it was their business and I'd
better leave well enough alone. Like I
wished they'd done for me.
"I really don't know how to do this," I
protested. "Besides, I don't know
what I'm supposed to wear. I don't have
any gowns. Should I wear one of those
strapless things?"
They looked at me like I'd grown an extra head. "To a first date? This is *casual.* That means you have to work ten times as hard making yourself
look good."
"Yeah," Jackie added, "and making it look
like you didn't do anything special.
Hey, why are YOU complaining about nothing to wear? With your powers, you can create whatever we
dream up."
"God," Jean said, "sometimes it's so much fun
having more girls in the house. We
could be doing this for Kitty if someone," she glared at me, even though I
didn't look a bit like Rogue at the moment, "wasn't such a
stick-in-the-mud."
I stuck my tongue out at her. "I'll bet you don't even know what that really means."
"Don't care."
She turned back to Jackie.
"What do you think? Dress
first or bath first?"
"Hmmm, she said she can use her powers to clean
herself." She turned to me. "Can you use your clothing powers to
take body oils and smells out of clothes?"
I shrugged, which earned a protest from Kitty. "Yeah.
I do it all the time."
Jean nodded.
"Right. Clothes, bath,
clothes, makeup."
Jackie nodded confirmation.
"So let's start our research.
I've got some Cosmo's here, Kitty's got some Seventeens, you have anything?"
"Can you do clothes just from seeing a picture of
them?" Kitty asked, while she brushed.
"Sometimes. If
I know the material and it's close to something I've done before."
Thus began the "let's dress Angel" adventure. Kitty worked on giving my hair a sort of
pull-through ponytail. It pulled
strands from the sides toward the back, gathering together at the nape of my
neck. The main length of hair hung
straight and free. I assured Kitty that
a little judicious use of power could maintain it, styled and untangled.
"I am SO jealous.
That is, like, the coolest mutant power ever."
Meanwhile, Jackie and Jean were busy building me from the
ground up. They were both showing me
their favorite underwear, so that I could pick up the style and duplicate it in
my size. I returned the favor by making
sure the underwear they brought me was utterly clean and restored to its
original condition and quality. I never
realized that four girls could go quite so crazy trying on underwear, but once
Kitty found out I could mend her favorite panties, she joined in, too. Jean was demonstrating how a push-up bra was
*supposed* to work, while Jackie demonstrated with her own surprisingly risqué
set of lingerie. Kitty was the only one
of us who didn't end up stripping down all the way, since she kept her pants
on.
"Wait," Jean said, tucking herself into my latest
attempt at a push-up. "I thought
you could only do natural fabrics?
How'd you finally manage the underwire on this one?"
"Sometimes the old favorites are best," I told
her. "It's whalebone. They used to use it in corsets, way back
when."
"You used whalebone for underwire?"
"Well, actually, it's a stiff cartilage. But it works pretty well, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, I'll say."
She bounced on her toes a bit, testing the support. "It might even be a little better. Oops."
She tucked herself back in.
"Remember not to get too athletic in a push-up."
"Gawd, I am, like, sooo jealous! Angel, can't you give me some padding or *something*?"
Kitty unfastened her bra and handed it over.
"Don't worry," Jean said. "I'm sure you'll graduate from a
training bra in less than a year."
"An A-cup is NOT a training bra!"
"Put it back on, Kitty," I told her. "I need to see your normal shape before
I add any padding."
She slipped into it, reaching behind herself to fasten it,
the way I did. Jean and Jackie both did
front-fasten-and-spin. I was surprised
that they weren't more limber.
"Okay, sorry, but I have to touch you to judge." I cupped my hand over her small breast. It seemed a shame to use padding to cover up
her perfect little buds, but I guess most guys prefer size over quality. I thickened up the fabric, carefully
maintaining as much of her shape as I could.
"That's not quite half a cup size.
Maybe a quarter or a third."
Kitty looked down her front. "Wow, it really makes a difference, don't you think?"
"You know," 'Rogue' drawled, "if you really
want Lance to notice, go braless. You
don't need the support yet. Ah guarantee,
THAT will get his attention."
"I don't know," Kitty said, suddenly shy. "I'd feel kind of exposed. And what if I got cold…or something. Everyone would know."
"Darlin'," 'Rogue' said, "that's the whole
point. That and making him
wonder."
They were *finally* satisfied when I had the right style of
push-up bra and very skimpy, very lacy, high-cut panties. They were the style I liked that hooked over
the top of my hip bones, but done with more lace than I usually used. We all had our own styles of lingerie. Kitty was a simple cotton girl, I went for
smooth satin. Jean liked lace (the less
fabric and the more lace, the better she liked it), while Jackie went for exotic
designs and colors.
Now that we were all clad (at least in lingerie) we launched
into the clothing struggle. Kitty had
just finished my hair (which I memorized for future maintenance and use).
"Hey, how about this one?" I said, pointing out
the camisole and duster combination.
"Not unless your message is supposed to be 'I'm easy.' No wonder you went in for Goth
fashions. No fashion sense at
all."
After trying on at least a dozen outfits, we finally settled
on one. The fabric came from Jean's
closet; the design from an ad.
"Long sleeves and short skirt?" Jackie asked, puzzled.
"Of course," Jean answered. "The top is completely scoop-necked and
it's made of Angora. It definitely says
'touch me.' But with no pantyhose, the
suede mini will draw attention to her waist and legs, which is what we
want."
I slipped into the sweater, then wriggled into the skirt and
zipped it up in back.
"Okay," Jackie said with just a trace of
drool. "That should do. Do you think there's such a thing as too
much cleavage?"
*****
After picking out my final clothes, I had to soak in the
scented bath oils for at least 30 minutes.
I'd never been much of a fan of baths, but I suppose that the Epsom
Salts an old man uses aren't quite the same things as the skin oils a young
girls soaks in. I must admit, it did
feel quite…feminine. It also seemed to
have a pleasant softening effect on my skin.
Using the new awareness that was part of the shapeshifting powers, I
tried to take a closer look at my skin, and see exactly what was happening. Unfortunately, that somewhat ruined the
romance of the bath. The
"softening" was more due to salt imbalance in the epidermal layer and
a resulting bloat of the cells. While
providing a short-term softening, it seemed that the net effect would be to harm
the outer layer of live cells, resulting in excess flakes of dead skin. Perhaps that's what the various scratchy
sponges were intended for.
Instead, I took a different approach. The powers allowed me to create leather,
hair, and similar structures through the power of my mind. I concentrated on my hands, initially. I could create thick calluses, merely by
wishing them into being. Likewise, I
could eliminate or alter things like hangnails, moles, and freckles, just by
thinking. I neatened up my hands,
removed a tiny freckle here and there, cleaned up my fingertips and cuticles,
gave myself thicker, stronger, smoother nails.
Not too long, just a half inch.
I also applied oil to the back of my hands, rubbing it in and seeing how
it affected the tissue of my skin cells.
I had "memorized" several types of oils by now. Lanolin-based products seemed to work the
best. Most perfumes and fragrances
seemed to be slightly irritating, if I looked at things on a microscopic level.
On a whim, I brushed my right hand over my left, giving
myself a thick coat of fur on the back of my hand. The pores were there, it was easy to create a follicle and hair
in place. I grinned, wondering how my
'date' would react if I came to him looking like a cat-girl. Could I still do it? I stretched my mind and watched my
fingertips grow claws, and watched as grey-striped fur swept up my altered
arms.
Cute, but not the stuff of dream dates. Another thought returned my normal
arms. I suppose it was a mark of my
adaptability that I thought of these skinny, feminine arms as
"mine." I'd only been Angel
for five days now, but this body felt more "mine" than Jerry's ever
had. Maybe it was time that I started
taking care of it. I ran a
newly-smoothed hand up my arm, vanishing the small hairs, eliminating the dead,
older outer layers of skin, and applying the proper mixture of lanolin and oils
to the softer underlayers of skin. The
process left my arm clean, dry, and unbelievably soft and sensitive. Enjoying the feeling immensely, I followed
suit with my other arm, my torso, and both legs. It also gave me a perfect shave on my legs, since I wasn't
cutting the hairs off, I was disintegrating them inside the follicle.
I sat on the side of the tub to do this. It was surprisingly sensual to run my
fingertips up my own legs, feeling the soft, perfect, flawless skin that I'd
just given myself. I had to admit, I
seemed to have lucked out in getting the most useful super powers. I might not fly or punch through buildings,
but my day-to-day life was quite convenient.
I finished most of the rest of my body. Obviously I wanted NO hair in my
armpits. I wasn't certain about the
thatch between my legs, though. Should
I eliminate all hair down there? That
would certainly be a little cleaner when I used the toilet, and I wouldn't have
little hairs peeking around the edges of my panties. I indulged myself with a brief touch, wonder what to do. The soft blonde hairs, my "muff"
as I believe it was colloquially referred to, was kind of cute, but I really
(really!) liked being able to stroke a finger across the smooth, fleshy lips
that concealed my folds. I decided I
didn't want any hair there, so I eliminated it. As for the more visible "muff" region in front, I
trimmed that back considerably in a "bikini cut" so that nothing
would show past the edges of my panties, no matter how daring they might be.
Now completely dry, I pulled on my high-cut panties and
looked. Yes, that was the best of both
worlds. My panties were plenty snug and
they clearly showed the pillow of hair created by my trimmed-back blonde
delta. At the same time, my contours
were completely visible below, as the panties clung tight to my hairless nether
regions. Looking in the mirror, I could
clearly see the crease of pubes.
Feeling naughty, I took the perfume that Jackie had loaned
my and took just a spot on my fingers.
I reached inside my panties and gave myself just a touch of the scent
along each of my lower lips. No one
would ever know, but it made me feel deliciously sinful.
I put on the bra that they'd forced on me – a lace push-up,
if you can believe it, low cut enough that my nipples were barely covered, and
even then they were only held in by lace.
I had to giggle as I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I'm limber enough to fasten it in back, but
contorted with my arms pulled back like that really pushes you out in
front. It was sort of sexy and
extremely silly.
The final step was to fix my hair and face. With a thought, I put my hair back the way
it had been when Kitty had finished.
Using my powers, the strands whipped through the air as if alive,
weaving back into the simple tie-back that Kitty had helped me with. I then finished up on my face, taking extra
care to ensure that there were no blemishes or rough spots, and that the skin
of my face and neck was as soft, smooth, and flawless as I could possibly make
it.
I finished by wrapping myself in an oversized white cotton
robe, and sauntering back to my room. I
might not be a real girl, but it was a hell of an experience to play with the
role. I couldn't think of a single time
in my life when I had felt better, or had anything like the glow I had right at
that moment.
*****
Back in the room, Jean and Jackie were bouncing with
excitement, but Kitty was curled up again on her bed. I went over to her.
"You okay? You
still recovering from the workout this morning?"
"It's no big deal," Jean said, "she's
just…you know."
I gave her a blank look.
"Kitty's cycle," Jackie explained.
Her what? Then I
understood and my eyes widened. Then I
tried to figure out how to act. I'd
never before had a girl or woman actively admit to having "feminine
problems." As a guy, well, as an
ersatz woman, I wasn't sure what was done in a situation like this, so I just
tried to ignore it.
"How was the bath?" Jackie asked, coyly.
"Pretty good," I admitted, understating. "But I'm thinking the oils are the most
important part." I'd been taking
my robe off as I talked. Turning
around, I saw them staring at me.
"What?"
Jean shook her head.
"Your future boyfriend is one lucky guy."
"It's not fair!" Kitty whimpered.
Jackie just stared.
"I'm memorizing. Some day,
I want to be you."
"It's not fair!
Why'd I get stuck with the stupid phasing power?"
"What?" I repeated.
Jean frowned.
"It's just…" she gestured at my lingerie-clad form "…how
is anyone supposed to compete with that.
Not many of us are quite so…well, perfect."
I gave a couple of poses, turning from side to side. "You think so?" I was incredibly pleased with my work.
"Makes me sick," Kitty muttered.
"Makes me *wet*," Jackie said, which was more than
I wanted to know.
"Pervert!" Jean said. "You're still a guy inside, aren't you?"
"Well, my boyfriend would disagree. But how can you *not* get turned on by
that?"
"But we're all girls!"
I wasn't about to say anything. Besides, I wasn't sure that I *could* clarify my own
position. Instead, I tried to change
topics. "Weren't you going to help
me get dressed?" Oops. I couldn't believe I'd just said that.
"Right!"
The angora sweater really did feel fabulous on my skin. True, if the weather turned cold I might get
frostbite on the tops of my boobs, but it felt wonderfully soft, and I looked
pretty good in it, with just enough jiggle to kept the attention focused. On Jean's advice, I shortened the sweater up
so that it ended just under my boobs.
This left my entire midriff bare, but Jean and Jackie agreed that it
worked perfectly.
"What if I get too cold?"
Jackie snorted.
"Then first, you get too cold.
Second, he notices – and with that outfit, he'll spot it pretty damn
fast. Third, he gives you a warm place
to snuggle. It's perfect."
I wasn't sure why, but her description gave me a little
shiver. I must have been worried about
the cold. Then I started worrying about
the boy. It was interesting to
contemplate things in the abstract, but I would be playing against a real, live
boy. The prospect was suddenly
daunting.
"Uh, I guess.
What about the bare legs?"
"You're right.
We'd probably better give you a set of hose. But a really light color.
None of that green crap you like so much."
"Green's a good color!" I protested feebly.
They quickly had me in pantyhose and zipped into the suede
miniskirt. I whipped up some
calf-length leather boots, in a nearly matching brown, and then practiced
moving as Jean and Jackie critiqued.
"Not like that!
Not unless you want to be giving him panty shots!"
Which reminded me of a conversation from two days
earlier. "Say, Jean, that reminds
me. I heard that *you* were flashing
Duncan. Any comment?"
She looked flustered for a moment, then guilty, then
outraged. She finally settled on
haughty. "Whether I was or wasn't
is *my* business."
I think we were all stunned by that. I finally blurted out, "But I thought
you were so…"
"What?" Her tone was shrill. "Stuck up? Such a good girl? Miss
Ivory Soap? Too pure to touch? GOD!
I am SICK TO DEATH of that attitude!
Haven't you ever seen a good looking guy and just had the urge to, you
know, go completely wild with him?
Don't any of you have any hormones?
What is wrong with you people?"
Jackie just smirked.
It rather annoyed me that she was doing it with my body. "Yeah, I know just what you mean. Getting stuck as a girl wasn't the worst
part. My hormones must have at least
tripled in volume. I know EXACTLY what
you mean. So if you're ever feeling the
frustration, just let me know. Maybe we
can," she gave an exaggerated wink, "help each other out,
right?"
Jean let out a huff.
"Thank you EVER so much. I
was talking about a NORMAL relationship with a normal GUY."
"I can be a guy."
"Yeah, but you'll never be normal."
Kitty joined the conversation, sounding very meek. "But Jean, does that mean that you've,
like…done it?"
"No, it does not mean I've done it!" With one hand, she flipped her hair back
behind her. "Though maybe with the
right guy, in the right circumstances….
But is it too much to ask for, you know, a little touching? Some kissing?" She glared at me. "You'd better appreciate what I'm giving you!"
"Uh, hold on," I said. "First, I am NOT interested in guys. I *am* a guy, remember?"
For some reason, they all rolled their eyes at me.
"Yeah, well, think about it. How would you feel coming on to another girl?"
"Sounds fine to me!"
"Shut up, Jackie!" I glared at her.
"But, point two, I'm going to have a tough time looking at Duncan,
and not seeing either LongArm beating me up, or Mark Taylor, who just
threatened to rape me. It's hard enough
just going on this stupid date, he better not try to come on to me! Because if he does, I'm either going to
freak out and run, or slash his face to ribbons." And before I realized what had happened, I
hat cat-girl fingertips again, sprouting wickedly sharp claws from my
fingertips. I had to concentrate to
return to normal.
Jean smirked at me.
"You freshmen and sophomores are so immature. Another year or two of simmering under those
hormones and you'll see things a LOT differently, believe me."
I clutched my stomach and made a gagging face. "I think I'd rather sleep with a
goat."
Jackie leered at me.
"So *that's* how your tastes run?"
"But don't worry," Jean continued. "I told Duncan that you were an
innocent little sophomore, and he promised to be on his very best
behavior. If he's a good boy, I
promised to reward him later."
We all stared at her.
"Not like that!" she said, blushing. "Well, not *exactly* like that. But I'm sure he'll be on his very best
behavior."
We were just about to grill her more, when there was a knock
on the door. Kurt's voice called
through to us.
"That creep – I mean, that *guy* Duncan Mathews say's
he's here to pick up Angel. I just
vanted to check vith you first, before I throw him out."
"Tell him we'll be ready in a minute," Jean called
back.
"You mean he vas right? I can't believe he's going out with my own SISTER! The guys vill never let me hear the end of
this." His voice trailed away as
he headed back down the hall.
"Well, I might as well get this over with." Using the mass of some of the clothes thrown
on my bed, I materialized a hip-length sheepskin jacket. It was soft and furry to snuggle my face
into, but I was still afraid that my waist and legs would be cold.
"Whoa, hold on, girl!" Jackie helped pull off my coat and sat me down by the
vanity. "We haven't done your
makeup."
"But this is just casual," I protested. "Besides, he's here!"
"So?" Jean
looked at me like I was an idiot.
"A few minutes waiting will make the view all the sweeter."
"Even *I* know that," Kitty muttered from her bed.
"But it's casual – I don't need makeup."
"That's why we need to take extra care," Jean told
me. "So it will look like you
aren't wearing any."
I shrugged, deciding that it was faster and easier to let
them have their way. So I sat in the
chair while Jean and Jackie worked over my face, using their brushes and pens
on my eyelashes and eyelids, powder on my cheeks, lipstick, perfume. I rejected about two thirds of the makeup as
being too synthetic – stuff that I could neither create nor erase. What they did put on, I thought I could duplicate. When they were finally done, I looked in the
mirror.
Somehow, the me looking back looked more wide-eyed and
innocent, and at the same time, much more kissable that I had looked, coming
out of the bath. Just for comparison I
vanished all the makeup.
"Hey!" they shouted.
Yes, surprisingly enough, I had to admit that the makeup was
an improvement. I restored it.
"Man," Kitty muttered again, "I am so jealous
of those powers."
I looked at the clock.
Over five minutes had passed.
"NOW can I go?"
"Uh huh."
Jean placed her hands on my shoulders and stared into my eyes. "Remember the rules. You should allow and encourage him to make
appropriate, friendly touches, but no touches in a personal area…unless you
want it. You don't have to kiss on the
first date unless you feel like it.
He'll behave himself, so don't worry.
Just enjoy yourself and try to have fun." Then she smiled.
"And enjoy the attention."
Huh?
"Now my advice," Jackie said. "Something you need to learn about
shapeshifting. Don't pretend to be the
person you look like – BE that person.
Let yourself BE Angel. Give her
some room to discover herself and find out what she likes."
I shook my head, thinking that hadn't made any sense. Then, before I knew what was up, Jean was guiding
me by the hand out the door.
Jackie-Rogue was carrying my coat, and even Kitty was coming to
watch. Before I knew it, I was at the
top of the mansion's grand stairway, looking down at Duncan in his jeans and
red letterman jacket.
He was looking up and me was a dazzled expression of
surprise and appreciation. I didn't
look that good, did I? I was very
conscious of walking slowly down those steps, one leg sliding past the other,
my eyes fixed on Duncan's. Reaching the
bottom, I now had to look upward to see into his face. For some reason the walk had taken more out
of me than I had expected, because I noticed my heart beating. Duncan took my hand and gave me a wide
smile. I thought (a bit guiltily) that
perhaps I had been doing him a disservice.
He felt nothing like Mark Taylor.
Although I was a bit nervous about putting my hand in his, the feeling I
got from him was open and honest. And,
perhaps, a bit of superiority and overconfidence. The trepidation I felt had no element of fear for what he might
do, but every element of stage-fright for my own performance. But his appreciative smile was quickly
putting me at ease.
"Shall we go?"
His voice was deeper than I remembered.
I nodded, suddenly too shy to speak.
"Hey dweeb," Rogue interrupted. "Aren't you forgetting
something?" She was standing in
her arrogant cocked-hip stance, dangling my jacket from her hand.
"Yeah, sorry."
I took it, feeling suddenly foolish.
Duncan reached for my hand and lead me outside to his BMW convertible. It was a perfect day, unseasonably warm for
mid-November. Duncan held my door while
I slid into my seat, then took the driver's seat and revved the engine. A moment later, we were off.
Whether or not I would have trouble with him later, at the
moment life was spectacularly good. I
was in a fabulous car next to a decent-looking fellow, my hair was trailing
behind me and whipping in the wind. I
couldn't help it, I began to feel better.
This might end up being a huge ordeal, but for now I felt good.
Duncan turned to grin at me. "We have the entire afternoon," he said. "What can I show you?"
I gave him a secret smile, remembering my thoughts from
yesterday's session in the Danger Room.
"How about the zoo?" I asked.
He turned back to the road and shifted to a higher gear.
I smiled some more.
*****
"You want to see the skunks? No one wants to look at skunks!
What's the big deal?"
"Aw, come on!"
Jackie's advice now made perfect sense. I was trying to pretend that I really *was*
Angel Quinn. And part of my role was to
be a naïve but fun-loving girl. So I
was letting myself learn about the fun of the girl-teasing-guy game. I think we both enjoyed it. I would pull on his hand and make a sad-eyed
face at him, then Duncan would relent and stumble along, at which point I would
cheer or clap my hands or do a happy-spin or some such reward. Maybe I was getting a bit carried away with
my role, but what was the harm?
Besides…in a few days, Rogue would have her memories back, I would cease
to exist, and Angel would vanish forever.
Why shouldn't I enjoy myself now?
So instead of depressing myself, I threw myself into the role of playing
an innocent girl (which was pretty close to the truth). I was slowly learning what got a nice
response from Duncan, and once I was able to convince myself that it was just a
role and all in fun, I began to see the possibilities.
So much of our behavior comes from self-image.
I was slowly convincing myself that I *was* Angel
Quinn. The mirror had helped to
convince me. The feelings I got from
this body, this flesh – those helped a lot, too. But the best persuasion was the look in Duncan's eyes. He knew nothing about my past. He knew nothing about memory-absorbing
mutants, or shapeshifting, or geriatric biologists. When he looked at me, all he saw was Angel Quinn.
It had taken a bit of soul-searching, but I remembered that
I had deliberately chosen to be Angel Quinn.
Was it shameful to actually let myself be that person? It was just a role, after all. What harm was there in relaxing, in
pretending that I was the beautiful young girl that I appeared to be? Who was hurt if I acted silly, or innocently
flirtatious, or carefree?
But in Duncan's eyes, there was no act. There was no pretend. All he saw, and all I *was*, was Angel
Quinn. And so I looked into Duncan's
eyes, and I began to believe what I saw reflected there. For him, I became Angel Quinn. For real…at least for one afternoon.
"Funny-looking little thing, isn't it?" He said,
peering at the skunk.
I gave him an evil grin.
"I bet you can't make it spray!"
"Are you nuts?
Do you know what that smells like?
What if we get some on our clothes?"
"We won't!"
Not when I can disintegrate it.
"No way. I'd
probably have to chuck a rock at it or something. I'm not gonna chuck rocks at some defenseless animal."
"You don't have to *hurt* it. Just *scare* it." I
gave him my best (so far) look of pleading.
"I don't know.
What'll you give me if I do it?"
Feeling naughty, I spun away from him and looked back
coyly. "I don't know. What do you want?"
Duncan shoved his hands into the pockets of his red jacket
and snorted. "Whoa, mind out of
the gutter," he mumbled. "How
'bout a kiss?"
I gulped, then deliberately forced myself back into the
role. "You mean…like a real
kiss?"
"What's the matter, never kissed a guy
before?" I could tell by his goofy
look that he was joking.
"You mean, on the lips? Yeah…of course I've kissed before!"
But somehow, I must not have said it right, because Duncan
suddenly looked at me in suspicion.
"Really? You've kissed a
guy on the lips before?" He was
saying it like it was unbelievable.
I remembered the beginning of the week, when Freddy Dukes
had shown me the mall. A bunch of us
girls had kissed him on the cheek, but with me he had accidentally turned his
head at the last moment.
"Once," I admitted. "It was kind of an accident."
He stared at me.
"You're serious, aren't you?"
"Y-yeah."
Suddenly, he had a cocky half-smile on his face. "Okay.
I promise to get our little friend to spray, if you let me show you how
it's supposed to be done."
My fingertips moved to my lips of their own accord. "You want to kiss me?"
He shrugged.
"You don't have to, if you don't want to."
Part of me was horrified at the idea of deliberately kissing
a guy. But I *did* want to sample that
skunk musk. And oddly, there was a part
of me that was more than willing to agree.
Eager, even. Angel wanted to
try.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
"You don't have to.
You sure?"
I nodded again.
"Okay."
Looking insufferably smug, Duncan looked around, making sure
we were alone and unobserved. Then,
finding some small rocks by the side of the path, he used a sharp overhand
throw, chucking the rocks in at the skunk, which was bumbling its way around
the enclosure. Duncan seemed to be
making sure not to actually hit the skunk, but to strike near enough to scare
it. It quickly responded, figuring out
where the threat was coming from. It
turned its hind quarters toward us and lifted its tail. Duncan pitched another stone, but there was
no activity.
"Hmmm, maybe I'll have to hit it once, very
lightly."
With a soft lob, the stone brushed against the skunk's
tail. Instantly, a fine cloud sprayed
out behind it. For a moment, I was
disappointed. There was no aroma at
all. Had it been de-scented? The next instant, a tiny bit of spray
drifted our way, along with an unbelievable stench.
Duncan had quickly stepped back out of range.
My eyes were watering, and I hadn't even been in the path of
the main spray. But a few droplets
settled on my finger. Somehow, I 'saw'
how they were put together. I knew I
could duplicate the substance. And as
quickly as I could, I disintegrated it from the few places it had touched me.
"Happy now?" Duncan yelled, pulling me away.
"Yes, thanks! I
guess the stories were right. I always
thought it was an exaggeration."
By now we were far enough away that we were no longer
bothered by the stench of skunk. I
stopped and pursed my lips.
"What's that for?"
"I promised to kiss you." It was going to be disgusting, but I had promised. And I didn't really regret it. The information had been worth it. I was already getting some great ideas for
sampling onions, pepper spray, mace, and tear gas.
"No, you promised that I could show you how it's done
*right*. We can't just do it here, in
the cold, with no preparation or mood.
Especially for your first real kiss.
This is a big responsibility. I
have to work up to it."
"Oh," I said, a little disappointed. "I guess."
"I'll tell you what," he said, slyly. "Why don't you let me put my arm around
you? Then, if we find the right spot,
maybe I can show you. You don't have to
do this if you don't want to. But I think
a girl like you ought to be shown, right off, what a kiss is *supposed* to be
like."
"I…guess."
I wasn't sure how I felt about this 'arm' business.
"Let's try it, and you can tell me what you
think." He approached me, and
draped an arm over my shoulder. His
fingertips dangled over the edge of my coat, barely touching the exposed skin
near my clavicle.
"How's that?"
"Um…okay…I guess."
"Let me know if you get tired of it."
We walked along for a bit like that. At first, I kept a gap between the two of
us, but it was easier to be pulled up next to him. It was efficient, too. He
was warm. He felt good, next to
me. After a bit of this, I tried,
greatly daring, putting one of my arms around his waist. That was pretty good, too. I could tell he was an athlete, since his
waist was so firm and muscular. Being
next to him was definitely helping to make me warm.
After a while, we came to the monkey cages. I thought he might do it there, because he
seemed to pause, as if he'd gotten an idea.
He moved away slightly to look at me.
But instead of giving me a kiss, he said something odd.
"Do you believe in evolution?"
"Of course I do!
Why?"
He put his arm back over my shoulder and walked on a bit.
"I sometimes think….
I sometimes wonder if maybe we aren't at some new edge of
evolution."
My eyes were very wide now, but I didn't say a word. Was he saying what I thought he was
saying? But instead, he walked on a bit
more, holding me and glancing at the monkeys.
"We have an extra responsibility," he said. "People like you and I."
"What do you mean?"
In my fear, I thought he knew exactly who and what I was. I was acutely conscious that another man had
his arm around me, and that I had let him put it there. I had promised to kiss this man. What the HELL had I been thinking? What had HE been thinking? Did he know I was a mutant? Did he know all about me?
"You and I," he said, "we're like perfect
people. Perfect bodies, perfect
minds. Wealth, power. I often wonder what common people think,
when they look at us. Are we like gods
to them? Are we so perfect that they
feel a need to please us? Do they have
a desire to make us happy?"
In the rush of relief I barely noticed as he stepped inside
a tropical exhibit. He didn't
know! I was Angel, and that's all that
I was to him, I could see it in his eyes again. I was momentarily startled at his nearly unbelievable arrogance,
but he had turned to face me, as he spoke again.
"I've never known a girl as beautiful as you,
Angel."
*What a surprise, if you knew the truth! I'm no more girl than you are!* But his words were seductive,
convincing. He moved his hands up to my
hair, brushing it back from my neck. As
his fingertips brushed past my neck, there must have been a gust of cold
air. It felt as if an icy wind blew
across the side of my neck and across the exposed tops of my breasts. With embarrassment, I realized that I was
clearly showing my reaction to the cold.
"You are so beautiful.
So perfect. Your skin, your
face, your body."
His hand moved up to cup my cheek and his thumb brushed my
face gently, stroking my cheek just below my eye. I had to concentrate on keeping the 'buzz' going. I had to.
He was touching me, and I was very close to forgetting myself. I parted my lips to say something, but no
words came out.
"I couldn't believe how innocent you were. Are.
Something else that is perfect about you."
Behind him, the brilliant yellows and red of the tropical
flowers made a fantastic display. But I
couldn't see it. All I could see was
his face, his eyes. I saw myself
reflected in his eyes. I was a pretty
girl. An innocent girl. I was about to receive my first (real)
kiss. I could scarcely breathe.
"That's why I wanted to make this as perfect as I
could," he said, so very softly.
His other hand had touched my shoulder, moving up my neck
until it, too, was cupping my cheek. I
finally realized that it wasn't the cold making my skin prickle like that.
"A beautiful girl deserves to be savored, and
appreciated, and treated like the treasure she is."
His face slowly came down to mine. I didn't know what to do.
I stood there, arms at my sides, head tipped up to meet his. My entire body focused on his face, his
lips. I forced myself to remember, to
maintain the buzz. I was not going to
ruin this!
And then his lips touched mine. His breath was sweet, his lips were soft. Soft, but firm. I felt my body responding.
My skin tingled, my head tilted back, I arched onto my tip-toes to meet
him better. He was so tall and big and
solid. His hands snaked around my bare
midriff, pulling me up against him. My
breasts pressed into his hard chest.
But more than anything else, I felt the moist velvet of his lips,
touching mine.
It didn't last long.
He withdrew his hands from my back and gently lowered me back down. He hadn't forced my lips open or tried any
tongue games. It was a fairly simple
closed-mouth kiss. But…I ran my
fingertips over my lips…it had affected me.
I was feeling it in my cheeks, and even in my eyes. For some reason, I couldn't quite meet his
eyes, except for a quick sideways peek.
He was watching me closely and smiling tightly.
I was feeling it elsewhere, too. Not just the hard nipples, although I was quite conscious of
that. I could feel my heart pounding a
furious beat in my chest, and I felt flushed all over. And the bare skin on my back, where he'd
held me, was tingling in the most delightful way.
"How was that?"
I peeked another glance over at him. Predictably for a man, he was staring at my
chest. Where my interest was still
showing.
"So…did you like it?"
I turned away, trying to hide the blush I felt blooming on
my face. "What do you think?"
"It's just that if you aren't sure, we could try
again. That was kind of a starter
kiss."
There was a sort of surge inside me, and I realized that I
really, really did want to take him up on that offer. But maybe not right away.
So, he was trying to flirt with me?
That was a game that went both ways.
And I realized that it was good to be Angel. Really good. She wasn't a
man. She – I – didn't want to be
one. I was stunned into realizing how
much I liked being a girl. How much I
loved having Duncan's attention on me.
His eyes, the weight of his arm.
The brush of his lips.
Duncan had his arms crossed over his chest, leaning back
against the wall, watching me and smirking.
"Did you like your first kiss?"
Eyes on his shoes, I nodded.
