John Wright - Fugitives of Chaos

We hopped behind the boys. I got behind Victor, and Vanity was behind Quentin, which, in hindsight, was good, because had it been the other way around, my chin would have been on Quentin's head (making him feel not very protective) and Vanity would have been unable to see what happened next, with Victor's shoulder blades blocking the view.

Victor, his eyes on the door, put his hand back in that cliche protective male gesture to make sure your woman is behind you. Whether by accident or design, the hand touched my nude hip (or maybe there was a wisp of mist draped over it), and I could feel all my little goose flesh hairs stand up. His fingers were warm.

Quentin was having trouble swallowing. He, too, kept his eyes on the door, but Vanity was huddling much closer to him than I was to Victor, had her arms around his waist and chest, and her breasts were mashed up into his back. I don't know much about men, but I knew enough to know that every one of Quentin's nerve signals was concentrating on increasing the sensitivity and reception from that area of his upper back.

Victor said sharply, "What happened?"

Vanity could not talk. She had just realized (I could see it on her face) that she was standing in her panties and bra, with her risque French garter belt, silky stockings and high heels, in a position where, if either boy moved, they would see her. Again. She could not get back to her clothes without being put on display. Again.

So she was blushing. It was almost fun to watch, because her whole face glowed red, and her neck, and shoulders, and even the tops of her breasts. That is the price you pay for having such a clear complexion.

We girls with tans, at least during the summer, can hide shame better.

I said, "It worked as planned."

Colin, from the other room, called out, "Don't shoot me! It's me, Colin. Or maybe it's some horror from the pit who learned to impersonate Colin's voice."

Quentin asked (quite reasonably, I thought), "Shoot you with what?"

Colin shouted back: "Where the hell am I?"

Victor said, "You are in the Caledonia suite on deck four of the cruise ship Queen Elizabeth II , one day out of Bristol, bound for New York. What happened in there? Why are the girls wearing costumes?"

"I think it is part of an important master plan. Send the naked girls back in, and I will investigate, and then report back. What happened to Boggin?"

Quentin shouted, "We don't know. What happened to you?"

"Ah! I put myself in a situation where I really, really wanted to fly. My thoughts became, how to put it—?

Focused. Very focused. You should try it some time. How long has it been?"

I said, 'Tell him it's been twenty years. It'll be funnier that way."

Colin shouted, "Is that Amelia? Nice dress, Amelia. I think your dressmaker just saved me from the doom of eternal birdhood. Thank you."

I was trying really, really hard to see the humor in this situation, but there are certain things that are just too embarrassing. I put my head down and pressed my closed eyes into the fabric of Victor's shoulder. I could feel hot tears beneath my lids.

Colin shouted, "And your breasts, of course. They saved me, too. I did not realize how large your aureoles were. I would like to thank your breasts more personally, later."

Colin appeared in the doorway. We all gawped at him. He was wearing Vanity's skirt, with the frilly top of one of my outfits from the dress box over him like a shirt. The top was too small for him to button.

He looked down at the clothes, and squinted.

Quentin said, "Colin, this will sound like an odd question, and I want you to think it over before answering. Why are you in drag?"

Colin was red-faced when he looked up. "Ah. Hum. I thought that the bird thing was so successful, you know. The key to my powers. If you just want something hard enough, right? So I thought I could turn this into my clothes, if I… you know… I really, really do not want you to be seeing me dressed this way… And I thought… well, I'd rather die than have my friends see me this way, so… and, there weren't any clothes in the drawers in there——-Whose room is this? Are we on a ship?"

Victor shrugged out of the long buff jacket he was wearing and, without turning his head, passed it over his shoulder to me. His chain mail glinted and gleamed in the light from the cabin fixtures.

Victor said, in the exact same tone of voice as before: "You are. in the Caledonia suite on deck four of the cruise ship Queen Elizabeth //, one day out of Bristol, bound for New York."

Colin said, "Nice room. Do you guys have any spare, um, boy clothes?"

I said from over Victor's shoulder, "We thought you were dead."

Vanity had recovered a little, and she dug her fingers into Quentin's ribs. "Hey! What about me! Get me something to wear."

Quentin said, "Well, I mean, you are wearing something."

She poked him again, and stamped her foot.

Colin craned his head to one side, trying to catch a glimpse of more of Vanity's bestockinged legs.

Quentin's normal "mine not yours" guy-instincts turned on, and he swirled the huge black cloak from his back and gathered up Vanity in it.

Quentin escorted Vanity past Colin back toward our room. Vanity said over her shoulder, "Colin, I got you some things. When we were in Paris. I bought you clothes."

"You went to Paris? Without me? And you thought I was dead? You thought I was dead so you went to Paris to buy me clothes, without me? You bought clothes for a guy you thought was dead, so you went to Paris?"

Vanity waved her hand toward some of our boxes on the couch. "Just because you were dead doesn't mean I wouldn't get you anything! What kind of person do you think I am?"

1.

I tried to get Victor to escort me back to my room, but he just pointed at that door and inclined his head slightly.

Once we were both back inside, I turned to Vanity angrily, intending to claw her eyes out for embarrassing me so thoroughly. Or at least give her a severe tongue-lashing. But at the same time, through the closed door, came Colin's voice, soft and young with wonder: "You mean… we're free … ?

We made it… ?"

Victor's voice, calm and measured: "Amelia arranged the escape and got us this money, passports, and once we were at sea, Vanity called her ship…"

Colin interrupted with a huge long howl of triumph, like something from an Old West movie: "

Yeeeeeaaaaa-haahhhh !"

All three boys started singing a Christmas carol, something full of sound and joy, peace on Earth, goodwill to men. It was a happy thing to hear, and it made me smile. And I admit being pleased with Victor's comment: Amelia arranged the escape.

After that, I did not have the heart to stay mad at Vanity.

2.

I was sure that the "wedding dress" from Grendel would be hexed, or impossible to take off, or something, so it came as a pleasant surprise that it just unlaced in the back and slipped off over my head.

I folded it carefully and packed it in tissue paper, and put it in one of the empty dress boxes.

Vanity donned her blouse and skirt and was back into the other room. At one point, I heard Colin's voice suddenly get louder: "You bought scuba gear? You thought I was dead, so you went to Paris without me and bought scuba gear? Without me? To Paris? So this scuba gear is… French?"

I selected a slim black dress with a necklace of pearls, black shoes with silver clasps. Once again, examining myself in the mirror, I was puzzled as to how much money we had spent, how much things cost, how much Vanity had bought.

I came back out into the salon; Colin, seated at ease on the divan, with his feet up on the chair facing him, was staring at the pamphlet that came with the room, which explained how the television worked, listed the ship's computer-use fees, gave the menus, and so on. He had the rebreather of the scuba unit in his mouth, which he puffed like a hookah.