PROTECTION OF ASSETS
Bessie didn't even bother trying to sneak up the ladder and into her bedroom. She was already in trouble when she didn't come home to help her mother with supper, much less be there to eat any of it. She was already going over the list of possible punishments in her head and she knew that if any of them included anything at all about not seeing Zac anymore, it would certainly be a war for the ages.
Taking a deep breath, Bessie gently turned the doorknob and carefully opened the large, front door. The house was nearly dark, save for the glow of the light coming from her father's office under the staircase. Tiptoeing to the staircase, she had only managed to get a hand on the smooth, cool, wooden rail when her father's voice sternly called out, "Beatrice."
Defeated, she gave up her attempt to be quiet and now she meekly walked down the hallway, stopping at the office doorway. Her father's back was turned in the small room, a pen in his left hand as he continued to jot notes down on a notepad that lay open next to some legal books on his desk.
"Yes, Daddy?" She answered quietly.
He didn't turn around. He continued to write and simply replied, "Do you know what time it is?"
The truth was, Bessie had no idea what time it was. As she fought for an answer, he answered for her. "It's nearly eleven."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I lost track of the time."
"Kind of hard to lose track when the daylight turns to night--wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes, sir."
"I assume you were with Zac?"
"Yes, sir. But I was safe with him and we didn't get into any trouble--"
"I wasn't worried about those things. I know he takes care of you."
Bessie felt her cheeks get hot at the thought of what she'd just done with Zac tonight. He had certainly taken care of her, all right. After their disastrous attempt at love-making earlier in the evening, they had given it another try and neither one of them were left disappointed--not in the least. In fact, Bessie was still on cloud nine over it.
"He tried to send me home earlier," she said quietly. "He tried to do right. But it was me who chose to stay. It was my fault."
"I appreciate your honesty," he said, finally putting down his pen and swiveling his chair around to face her. He took off his glasses and laid them down on the notepad, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. "I feel that I have been more than accommodating and accepting of your seeing Zac here lately. And I understand that you are an adult and that you can make your own decisions. However, you do still live under my roof, and I do expect you to show respect to both myself and your mother. Missing dinner tonight without letting either one of us know beforehand was rude and disrespectful. Your mother works hard in this house to take care of the two of us, the least you can do is sit down and eat the meals that she prepares for you. Or if you have plans or you think you might not be home in time, at least have the courtesy to let her know that. Do you understand me?"
Bessie nodded. She felt absolutely horrible. She never wanted to disrespect her parents or let them down or give them any reason to think any less of her. She loved her parents and tonight she had failed them. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to hurt any feelings."
"According to your mother, there are no feelings hurt," her father sighed. "But watching her clean up your plate after not hearing a peep out of you upset me. All I'm asking you to do is to let someone know where you are."
"Yes, sir."
"It's late. Young women shouldn't be awake so late, they need their beauty rest. Not that you need any beauty rest, dear, as there are no other young women as beautiful as my daughter. But even still. Run along. And don't you dare think about sneaking into the kitchen later. You'll wait until breakfast. Let this be a lesson to you."
Bessie blushed and tried not to smile at her father's lighthearted compliment. Swallowing the grin, she nodded meekly and said, "Yes, sir," once again, followed by, "Goodnight, Daddy."
Awhile later, Bessie lay in the bathtub, letting the hot water envelop her in a liquid cocoon. She couldn't stop thinking about her evening with Zac. She felt like she should have been having more of a moral dilemma over what they were doing, but she just couldn't feel bad about it. How could something that felt so right and so natural be so bad?
She found that she no longer blushed when the visual of his naked body entered her mind. She had never seen another man without clothes before, but she was fairly certain that they didn't all look like Zac. She never knew a man's body could be so beautiful, even right down to...well, to all of his parts. If he didn't tempt her so much, she was sure she could simply admire his nakedness for hours. How did she get so lucky? How did a man like him ever see anything in a girl like her? How did his smooth skin and his chiseled stomach and his perfect arms all belong to her? She could have him anytime, he had said. Anytime she wanted him. She wanted him constantly lately.
As she thought of him and she remembered the way he felt inside her, the way his breathing felt as it tingled in her ear, and how erotic it felt to be so exposed in the outdoor air, chills ran through her body and she bent her knees and ran her hands up her thighs. This was when she got a look at her own body and her dreamy mood was replaced by a dejected scowl and she let her legs disappear under the water again. Her legs. Her long, skinny, shapeless, beanpole legs. She looked at the rest of her naked body with the same scowl. She hated the way her breasts seemed to lay flat and level with her torso when she lay down, she hated how she saw little-to-no shape in her hips, and she hated how long and spindly her arms were. She wasn't sickly skinny, but she was slender enough to be boring to the eyes and whatever Zac saw in her was beyond her. She knew that if she were a boy--or a man--she wouldn't give herself a second look. She'd scoff a laugh at the skinny little girl trying to be a woman and then move on to the next voluptuous beauty who would look like a real woman and who would do the things that a real woman knew how to do. The voluptuous beauty wouldn't disappoint--she wouldn't be in pain when a man entered her, she would know how to do everything right, and she wouldn't cause a man to lose his excitement in broad daylight. Bessie decided right then that the only thing that must have kept Zac interested the second time was that he couldn't see her. Just like he didn't look at her the first time.
By the time she was through with her bath, she'd convinced herself that Zac was just as disgusted with her as she was.
Upon drying off after her bath, Bessie threw on a robe and house shoes with her nightgown and tiptoed downstairs to do one more thing she would surely get in trouble for, but she couldn't help herself. She was relieved when it appeared that he father had long since gone to bed and she turned on a small lamp that sat on a table in the hallway as she reached for the receiver of the telephone that hung on the wall. She asked the operator for the Jennings' residence and then she waited.
To the delight of Bessie's pounding heart, Millie answered. "Oh, Millie, thank goodness it's you!"
"Bessie? What are you doing phoning at this hour? You nearly woke the entire house up!"
"Oh, Millie, I'm so sorry," she hissed into the phone. "But I have a problem and I need to know how to fix it."
"Sounds like an emergency."
"I wouldn't be phoning if it wasn't."
"Well, all right, then. What is it?"
"I'm skinny. And I need to not be skinny."
There was silence on the other end for a moment. "Excuse me?"
Bessie sighed, exasperated. "I mean, I have no shape. No curves. How do I get curves like you and Judith?"
"That is your emergency? At this hour?"
"Millie, please!"
"Well, shaping your body is easy," Millie answered. "You just wear a corset."
"Wear a--I don't just mean under my clothes, Millie."
"I know. You wear the corset all the time, morning, noon, and night. You sleep in it and everything. Eventually your body will mold with it. Tiny waist will create bigger hips and bigger bust."
"Bigger bust?" Bessie's eyes glittered into the air.
"Oh, yes, definitely. With a small waist, everything looks bigger, therefore giving you curves. Just be careful not to engage in much strenuous activity in it, though. And you can't eat a lot, either. The corset is uncomfortable, but the results are worth it."
"Okay. Corset, no activity, don't eat. Got it."
Millie giggled into the telephone. "Oh, Bessie, we really much catch up. It seems you have much to tell me. I have to go to sleep right now, though--"
"Millie!" Bessie hissed quickly. "I don't own a corset!"
"I'll give you one of mine. I'll come over in the morning and tie you into it. Okay?"
"And you're sure it'll work?"
"You'll be amazed at the difference even having it on."
Hanging up the telephone with Millie, Bessie crept back up the stairs, deep in thought. If the corset really worked like Millie said it did, Bessie would live in it until she got her desired results. Suddenly, she couldn't wait for morning to come.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
It was the roar of the engine outside that shook Zac violently out of his deep sleep, and the howling and cheering of his fair-haired, blue-eyed brother that got him out of the bed. Not even bothering to pull a shirt over his head or adjust his bed-raggled ponytail, he rubbed his eyes and stepped out the trailer door to the cheering of his brothers and a couple other gypsies.
"What's the big idea?" Zac asked sleepily, annoyed at the disruption of his sleep an hour earlier than he was supposed to be up.
Taylor bounded and leapt over to him and hooked an arm enthusiastically around his neck. "Ike got the car running! That's the bee's knees, ain't it?"
"Are you serious?" Zac asked, dumbfounded.
"Purring like a kitten," Isaac announced proudly as he wiped his hands on an old towel. "Turns out, the fix was easy as pie. Just needed the part."
Before he knew it, Zac was enthusiastically celebrating along with his brothers. "So, how do you know it's gonna keep running?" Zac asked.
"I just put a brand new part in it, she's good as new," Isaac beamed, petting the old, black Ford that already boasted an age of five years. It had nearly run its course, but it kept hanging on. "Hey, maybe now you can pick Bessie up and take her out the way you're supposed to," he grinned.
A smile crept across Zac's face, the realization putting stars in his eyes. "Hey, you're right! Maybe you can take Judith out, too."
"Maybe we can double!"
"I think our girls would like that," Zac laughed. "Wow, this is amazing! Hey--maybe you can test her out and drive me to the feed store this morning."
"It'd be my pleasure," Isaac grinned.
"I call shotgun!" Taylor yelled, racing for the trailer to get himself dressed.
That morning, as Taylor happily rode in the passenger seat and Isaac drove Zac to the feed store, Zac couldn't help but smile out the window, despite the already-suffocating heat that came from his mobile metal enclosure. Today, getting the car in working order was nothing to be taken lightly. As Taylor would put it, it was another light at the end of a very long tunnel. It meant freedom. And security. And a means to an end. More importantly, it issued a new brand of self worth in the brothers that they hadn't felt in a long time.
They hadn't had far to drive to the store and Zac told Isaac not to worry about picking him up because he didn't know how long he would be there. Upon bounding up to the store porch and walking in the glass door, Burt Anderson lifted his chin from behind the counter and squinted his eyes behind his bifocals. "Well, I ain't paying you that much, am I?"
Zac grinned and plucked his apron off the wall and slung it around his neck, then tied it around his waist. "The pay is fine. That's our old car, Ike just got it working this morning."
"Good. Good. He a mechanic?"
"Nope. But he seemed to know what he was doing with that automobile."
"Does he want to be a mechanic?"
Zac shrugged. "Not sure. Haven't asked him."
"Hm," Burt muttered. Then he turned some pages in his record book and looked up at Zac. "Before you get started, I wanna show you something."
As Zac stood next to the white-haired old man behind the counter, Burt flipped through his book some more. "You read, boy?"
Zac scoffed a laugh in amusment. "Of course I read, we went to school."
"You good at arithmetic?"
"Top of my class."
"Good, good. Well, I have to go out of town for a few days to visit with my sick brother in Oklahoma City--nothing contagious, so I won't bring nothing back. Anyway, I need you to look after the store while I'm gone. Think you can handle it?"
"Me?" Zac asked. He was surprised, yet touched and a little flattered, that Burt even thought to trust him with his life's work.
"You're the only one here, ain't you?"
Zac cleared his throat, embarrassed by his reaction. "Um, yeah. Yeah, of course. So, uh, what's wrong with your brother?"
"They say he's got the cancer. Having a procedure done to remove a tumor or something. I'm gonna make sure he's comfortable when he comes home, then I'll be back."
"Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear that."
"Well, that's life sometimes. Just say a prayer for him, that's all you can do."
"Yeah," Zac replied, his heart breaking for the old man. "Sure thing."
Burt Anderson didn't have any family in the area to speak of, which was unfortunate, seeing as the feed store was a family business that had been passed down to him. He'd married the love of his life just out of high school and lost both her and the baby at childbirth just a few short years later. Since then, he had never remarried and his parents had now long since passed and his only brother lived in Oklahoma City. Zac was surprised that the old man didn't live in the feed store, but he seemed to have done well for himself over the years. Zac supposed that when you lived your life buried in your work day after day, a man had to have something to show for it. Burt boasted an immaculate store, always in good repair, stocked with the latest products and technology and he was proud of it, as he should have been.
"Keeping the books ain't hard," Burt continued, getting back on subject. "I got an order coming in next Monday--order comes every Monday--and all you do is make sure you got everything, make sure it all comes in one piece, verify the inventory, and put it away. Make sure none of it is busted before the delivery guy leaves in case you gotta order a replacement. That's just Monday. Now, every night before you leave--"
"Why would I order a replacement?" Zac interrupted.
Burt looked Zac over, his face screwed up with disgust. "You said you were smart, son."
"No. I'm saying ordering a replacement seems like a waste of money, depending on the degree of the damage. We could just sew up a feed sack and sell it at a discount and lose out on a little, rather than spending money on a brand new sack when the damaged one is still just as good."
The old man adjusted his glasses with is finger and studied Zac for a moment. "Huh. Maybe you are smart. I never thought of that. You know how to sew?"
"It's not hard. But I bet whatever I can't do, my girl can do."
"Yeah," Burt replied in thought. "You got you a good one, there, with that Harlow girl. Look, if you need a man to help you with stocking and loading for customers while you watch the front, your brothers can help if they want. But I can't pay them. Try not to let that pretty one behind the counter, though. He don't seem too bright."
Zac had to laugh. He couldn't help himself. "Who, Taylor? Well, he's plenty bright. He just ain't got the sense God gave him sometimes."
"Well. Whatever you say. I need someone with sense figuring my numbers. That's why I'm trusting you."
"I appreciate that, sir. I won't let you down."
"I trust you won't. Now get on back there, we're expecting a busy day today. Got a new brand of feed in, supposed to be healthier. Farmers been asking me for it left and right. Hope you brought your strength this morning."
"Yes, sir," Zac replied, tying his hair up with the tie that wrapped around his wrist.
As he made his way to the loading dock behind the store, Zac's ego soared. Since becoming unemployed and living with the gypsies--and going to jail hadn't helped--nobody had ever displayed trust in him like this. He was honored that Burt believed in him enough to run the store properly. And he should. Zac knew the ins and outs of running it, anyway. It hadn't taken long to figure it out, besides the way Burt shared all the aspects of the business with him in everyday conversation. Zac had taken in every word that he'd said to him and he could almost bet he could open up his own feed store if he wanted to. But he'd never do that to Burt.
No. Zac's biggest claim to fame was to never work under someone for as long as he lived. But the truth was, he would shovel manure with his bare hands from dawn until dusk if Burt Anderson wanted him to.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
"Hold still, Bessie!" Millie grunted as she squeezed the life out of her cousin's ribcage.
"I'm doing the best I can with all your pulling!" Bessie gasped.
Bessie could only imagine the sight with what little oxygen she had left in her brain at the present moment. As Bessie stood, holding on tight to one of her tall, wooden bedposts, Millie's foot was braced on her foot board as she laced and pulled the corset closed around Bessie's waist. She always heard that it was never easy being beautiful. She couldn't breathe, but she figured that if she had just enough oxygen to get from point A to point B, she would be okay. It was a small price to pay to have curves. And then, once she was curvy, Zac would never run out of excitement ever again. He could say it was because he hurt her all he wanted, but the more she thought about it, the more everything started making sense. He'd made such a big deal about her taking off her dress, that when she got down to her silk chemise, he wanted her to leave it on. And she knew it was because he realized what a beanpole she was and that he would be disappointed once she took off the undergarment. She just knew it.
She wanted Zac to want her. She wanted him to desire her and find her irresistible. She wanted him to be so insatiable with lust for her that he would never have a problem staying turned on ever again. And if this corset was a step in that direction, she would endure whatever she had to endure to get there.
"You're stick thin," Millie grunted again. "I still don't understand why you think you need this."
"I need it because I'm stick thin. Or at least until I can get my hands on enough money for a breast augmentation."
At this, Millie released her and let out a breath of exasperation. "A breast augmentation?"
"Yes. All the talking picture ladies are doing it. And they all look absolutely ravishing."
"There's nothing wrong with your breasts, Bessie. Nothing a good brazier wouldn't fix, anyway. And, besides, judging by the way Zac couldn't keep his hands off of you at the river the last time, he apparently wants to ravish you, without the corset or the augmentation."
Bessie spun around and beamed excitedly at her cousin. "He's already ravished me--twice."
Millie's eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped. "Beatrice! How dare you keep such a thing from me! When?"
Bessie lowered her voice, unsure of her mother's whereabouts in the house. "In the barn after the river. And then the second time last night."
"Oh, Bessie, you must tell me everything! Did you use protection?"
Bessie looked at Millie, stumped. "Did we use what?"
"You know...protection. I make all my boyfriends wear a condom. If any one of them knocked me up, my life would surely be over."
"Knock you up?"
Millie sighed, frustrated. "Get me pregnant. You know. You really are so sheltered sometimes."
Bessie was surprised that her heart could even beat with the corset around her waist, sucking the life out of her. But her heart pounded, nonetheless, and paranoia and panic rose up in her quickly. "Well...I don't know...I don't...I don't think he was wearing one..."
"Did you see him put one on?"
"No..."
"Do you even know what a condom looks like?"
Bessie shook her head.
"Oh, Bess. Has he at least been pulling out?"
"Well he can't stay inside me forever," Bessie retorted with a smart aleck tone.
"Oh my god," Millie breathed, placing a frustrated hand on her forehead. "You have to use protection, dear cousin. You just have to."
"Zac wouldn't do anything that would hurt me or...or anything."
"Yeah, but if he gets you pregnant, you're done for. Your father will murder him. Or worse, he'll force you to marry him."
"How is that worse? Marrying Zac wouldn't be so bad..."
"Really? So you want to end up barefoot and pregnant and poor while your baby grows up in the dirt with gypsies and no decent education? 'Cause that's what's gonna happen if you suddenly end up knocked up and unprepared. Your father will force Zac to marry you before he's ready to--something Zac will only grow to resent--and then your father will disown you, cause he sure won't support you and that baby. You can count on that."
Bessie's eyes widened as she took her cousin's words in. Somehow, hearing versions of this from her father hadn't quite struck a chord with her as much as it did the way Millie was presenting it. After all, if someone who enjoyed sex as much as Millie was issuing this many warnings to her, there had to be some stock in it. And she was right. Everybody was right. If Bessie suddenly popped up pregnant, she couldn't go to school, and there was no way Zac would be able to find any gainful employment in nine months. It just wasn't possible, not while the country was in the middle of a depression. The realization hit Bessie hard and she hated even thinking about the idea of questioning something about her relationship with Zac.
Trying to deflect her own apprehensions, she turned the conversation on Millie. "For someone who gets around as much as you do, I'm surprised you're trying to talk me out of it so much. I thought you'd be proud of me."
"Oh, I am proud of you," Millie nodded, matter-of-factly. "I'm the biggest advocate of 'try it before you buy it' you'll ever meet. I'm simply telling you not to get caught and not to get pregnant. Simple as that. Make Zac wear a condom. If he really loves you, he'll do it."
In thought, Bessie found herself by accident in the full-length mirror. The basic, white corset that belonged to Millie, and squeezed her ribcage in unnatural ways, made her waist look fantastic. She ran her hands own the sides of her body, smiling slightly at the way her hands sunk into her waist and then back out over her hips. This was what she wanted. Now, with just a little more on top, she would be so desirable that Zac--
Then an uninvited visual of her walking barefooted around the gypsy camp, eight months pregnant, halted her admiration of herself. She loved Zac, but the truth was that wasn't really the life she wanted--and she knew Zac didn't either. So why would they want to raise a baby in it? No. Millie was right. If they were going to have sex, they needed to really start thinking about things.
Things like this corset, for instance.
"Take this off of me," Bessie said into the mirror.
"You witnessed the hell I went through to get it on you, didn't you?"
"Millie, please. You have to take it off. I can't wear it. I look amazing, but I can't get pregnant. And if I walk around him looking like this, he'll probably knock me up with triplets!"
"No, he won't, because you look downright ridiculous," Millie muttered.
"Do what?"
"You look ridiculous," she said louder. "Corsets are for women who need the extra help keeping their extra parts in. You wouldn't have extra parts even if you tried. You don't need the corset. And I don't think Zac's the type of man who would appreciate you in one anyway. Not after he picked you when he could have had any of the corset-wearing harlots in Tulsa. Trust me."
"You wear a corset. Are you calling yourself a harlot?"
"Let's not get technical. You know what I meant. So now what are you gonna do?" Millie asked, as she approached Bessie and started unlacing the back of the corset.
Bessie stood straighter in the mirror as Millie worked behind her. Huffing a breath, she nodded at herself. "I guess I'm gonna have to stuff my brazier and eat cakes and pies that go straight to my hips."
Millie chuckled and shook her head. "You're hopeless, Bessie. Absolutely hopeless."
That might be true. But she just knew that eating cakes and pies would be much more fun than the conversation she knew she was going to have to have with Zac.
Bessie didn't even bother trying to sneak up the ladder and into her bedroom. She was already in trouble when she didn't come home to help her mother with supper, much less be there to eat any of it. She was already going over the list of possible punishments in her head and she knew that if any of them included anything at all about not seeing Zac anymore, it would certainly be a war for the ages.
Taking a deep breath, Bessie gently turned the doorknob and carefully opened the large, front door. The house was nearly dark, save for the glow of the light coming from her father's office under the staircase. Tiptoeing to the staircase, she had only managed to get a hand on the smooth, cool, wooden rail when her father's voice sternly called out, "Beatrice."
Defeated, she gave up her attempt to be quiet and now she meekly walked down the hallway, stopping at the office doorway. Her father's back was turned in the small room, a pen in his left hand as he continued to jot notes down on a notepad that lay open next to some legal books on his desk.
"Yes, Daddy?" She answered quietly.
He didn't turn around. He continued to write and simply replied, "Do you know what time it is?"
The truth was, Bessie had no idea what time it was. As she fought for an answer, he answered for her. "It's nearly eleven."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I lost track of the time."
"Kind of hard to lose track when the daylight turns to night--wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes, sir."
"I assume you were with Zac?"
"Yes, sir. But I was safe with him and we didn't get into any trouble--"
"I wasn't worried about those things. I know he takes care of you."
Bessie felt her cheeks get hot at the thought of what she'd just done with Zac tonight. He had certainly taken care of her, all right. After their disastrous attempt at love-making earlier in the evening, they had given it another try and neither one of them were left disappointed--not in the least. In fact, Bessie was still on cloud nine over it.
"He tried to send me home earlier," she said quietly. "He tried to do right. But it was me who chose to stay. It was my fault."
"I appreciate your honesty," he said, finally putting down his pen and swiveling his chair around to face her. He took off his glasses and laid them down on the notepad, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. "I feel that I have been more than accommodating and accepting of your seeing Zac here lately. And I understand that you are an adult and that you can make your own decisions. However, you do still live under my roof, and I do expect you to show respect to both myself and your mother. Missing dinner tonight without letting either one of us know beforehand was rude and disrespectful. Your mother works hard in this house to take care of the two of us, the least you can do is sit down and eat the meals that she prepares for you. Or if you have plans or you think you might not be home in time, at least have the courtesy to let her know that. Do you understand me?"
Bessie nodded. She felt absolutely horrible. She never wanted to disrespect her parents or let them down or give them any reason to think any less of her. She loved her parents and tonight she had failed them. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to hurt any feelings."
"According to your mother, there are no feelings hurt," her father sighed. "But watching her clean up your plate after not hearing a peep out of you upset me. All I'm asking you to do is to let someone know where you are."
"Yes, sir."
"It's late. Young women shouldn't be awake so late, they need their beauty rest. Not that you need any beauty rest, dear, as there are no other young women as beautiful as my daughter. But even still. Run along. And don't you dare think about sneaking into the kitchen later. You'll wait until breakfast. Let this be a lesson to you."
Bessie blushed and tried not to smile at her father's lighthearted compliment. Swallowing the grin, she nodded meekly and said, "Yes, sir," once again, followed by, "Goodnight, Daddy."
Awhile later, Bessie lay in the bathtub, letting the hot water envelop her in a liquid cocoon. She couldn't stop thinking about her evening with Zac. She felt like she should have been having more of a moral dilemma over what they were doing, but she just couldn't feel bad about it. How could something that felt so right and so natural be so bad?
She found that she no longer blushed when the visual of his naked body entered her mind. She had never seen another man without clothes before, but she was fairly certain that they didn't all look like Zac. She never knew a man's body could be so beautiful, even right down to...well, to all of his parts. If he didn't tempt her so much, she was sure she could simply admire his nakedness for hours. How did she get so lucky? How did a man like him ever see anything in a girl like her? How did his smooth skin and his chiseled stomach and his perfect arms all belong to her? She could have him anytime, he had said. Anytime she wanted him. She wanted him constantly lately.
As she thought of him and she remembered the way he felt inside her, the way his breathing felt as it tingled in her ear, and how erotic it felt to be so exposed in the outdoor air, chills ran through her body and she bent her knees and ran her hands up her thighs. This was when she got a look at her own body and her dreamy mood was replaced by a dejected scowl and she let her legs disappear under the water again. Her legs. Her long, skinny, shapeless, beanpole legs. She looked at the rest of her naked body with the same scowl. She hated the way her breasts seemed to lay flat and level with her torso when she lay down, she hated how she saw little-to-no shape in her hips, and she hated how long and spindly her arms were. She wasn't sickly skinny, but she was slender enough to be boring to the eyes and whatever Zac saw in her was beyond her. She knew that if she were a boy--or a man--she wouldn't give herself a second look. She'd scoff a laugh at the skinny little girl trying to be a woman and then move on to the next voluptuous beauty who would look like a real woman and who would do the things that a real woman knew how to do. The voluptuous beauty wouldn't disappoint--she wouldn't be in pain when a man entered her, she would know how to do everything right, and she wouldn't cause a man to lose his excitement in broad daylight. Bessie decided right then that the only thing that must have kept Zac interested the second time was that he couldn't see her. Just like he didn't look at her the first time.
By the time she was through with her bath, she'd convinced herself that Zac was just as disgusted with her as she was.
Upon drying off after her bath, Bessie threw on a robe and house shoes with her nightgown and tiptoed downstairs to do one more thing she would surely get in trouble for, but she couldn't help herself. She was relieved when it appeared that he father had long since gone to bed and she turned on a small lamp that sat on a table in the hallway as she reached for the receiver of the telephone that hung on the wall. She asked the operator for the Jennings' residence and then she waited.
To the delight of Bessie's pounding heart, Millie answered. "Oh, Millie, thank goodness it's you!"
"Bessie? What are you doing phoning at this hour? You nearly woke the entire house up!"
"Oh, Millie, I'm so sorry," she hissed into the phone. "But I have a problem and I need to know how to fix it."
"Sounds like an emergency."
"I wouldn't be phoning if it wasn't."
"Well, all right, then. What is it?"
"I'm skinny. And I need to not be skinny."
There was silence on the other end for a moment. "Excuse me?"
Bessie sighed, exasperated. "I mean, I have no shape. No curves. How do I get curves like you and Judith?"
"That is your emergency? At this hour?"
"Millie, please!"
"Well, shaping your body is easy," Millie answered. "You just wear a corset."
"Wear a--I don't just mean under my clothes, Millie."
"I know. You wear the corset all the time, morning, noon, and night. You sleep in it and everything. Eventually your body will mold with it. Tiny waist will create bigger hips and bigger bust."
"Bigger bust?" Bessie's eyes glittered into the air.
"Oh, yes, definitely. With a small waist, everything looks bigger, therefore giving you curves. Just be careful not to engage in much strenuous activity in it, though. And you can't eat a lot, either. The corset is uncomfortable, but the results are worth it."
"Okay. Corset, no activity, don't eat. Got it."
Millie giggled into the telephone. "Oh, Bessie, we really much catch up. It seems you have much to tell me. I have to go to sleep right now, though--"
"Millie!" Bessie hissed quickly. "I don't own a corset!"
"I'll give you one of mine. I'll come over in the morning and tie you into it. Okay?"
"And you're sure it'll work?"
"You'll be amazed at the difference even having it on."
Hanging up the telephone with Millie, Bessie crept back up the stairs, deep in thought. If the corset really worked like Millie said it did, Bessie would live in it until she got her desired results. Suddenly, she couldn't wait for morning to come.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
It was the roar of the engine outside that shook Zac violently out of his deep sleep, and the howling and cheering of his fair-haired, blue-eyed brother that got him out of the bed. Not even bothering to pull a shirt over his head or adjust his bed-raggled ponytail, he rubbed his eyes and stepped out the trailer door to the cheering of his brothers and a couple other gypsies.
"What's the big idea?" Zac asked sleepily, annoyed at the disruption of his sleep an hour earlier than he was supposed to be up.
Taylor bounded and leapt over to him and hooked an arm enthusiastically around his neck. "Ike got the car running! That's the bee's knees, ain't it?"
"Are you serious?" Zac asked, dumbfounded.
"Purring like a kitten," Isaac announced proudly as he wiped his hands on an old towel. "Turns out, the fix was easy as pie. Just needed the part."
Before he knew it, Zac was enthusiastically celebrating along with his brothers. "So, how do you know it's gonna keep running?" Zac asked.
"I just put a brand new part in it, she's good as new," Isaac beamed, petting the old, black Ford that already boasted an age of five years. It had nearly run its course, but it kept hanging on. "Hey, maybe now you can pick Bessie up and take her out the way you're supposed to," he grinned.
A smile crept across Zac's face, the realization putting stars in his eyes. "Hey, you're right! Maybe you can take Judith out, too."
"Maybe we can double!"
"I think our girls would like that," Zac laughed. "Wow, this is amazing! Hey--maybe you can test her out and drive me to the feed store this morning."
"It'd be my pleasure," Isaac grinned.
"I call shotgun!" Taylor yelled, racing for the trailer to get himself dressed.
That morning, as Taylor happily rode in the passenger seat and Isaac drove Zac to the feed store, Zac couldn't help but smile out the window, despite the already-suffocating heat that came from his mobile metal enclosure. Today, getting the car in working order was nothing to be taken lightly. As Taylor would put it, it was another light at the end of a very long tunnel. It meant freedom. And security. And a means to an end. More importantly, it issued a new brand of self worth in the brothers that they hadn't felt in a long time.
They hadn't had far to drive to the store and Zac told Isaac not to worry about picking him up because he didn't know how long he would be there. Upon bounding up to the store porch and walking in the glass door, Burt Anderson lifted his chin from behind the counter and squinted his eyes behind his bifocals. "Well, I ain't paying you that much, am I?"
Zac grinned and plucked his apron off the wall and slung it around his neck, then tied it around his waist. "The pay is fine. That's our old car, Ike just got it working this morning."
"Good. Good. He a mechanic?"
"Nope. But he seemed to know what he was doing with that automobile."
"Does he want to be a mechanic?"
Zac shrugged. "Not sure. Haven't asked him."
"Hm," Burt muttered. Then he turned some pages in his record book and looked up at Zac. "Before you get started, I wanna show you something."
As Zac stood next to the white-haired old man behind the counter, Burt flipped through his book some more. "You read, boy?"
Zac scoffed a laugh in amusment. "Of course I read, we went to school."
"You good at arithmetic?"
"Top of my class."
"Good, good. Well, I have to go out of town for a few days to visit with my sick brother in Oklahoma City--nothing contagious, so I won't bring nothing back. Anyway, I need you to look after the store while I'm gone. Think you can handle it?"
"Me?" Zac asked. He was surprised, yet touched and a little flattered, that Burt even thought to trust him with his life's work.
"You're the only one here, ain't you?"
Zac cleared his throat, embarrassed by his reaction. "Um, yeah. Yeah, of course. So, uh, what's wrong with your brother?"
"They say he's got the cancer. Having a procedure done to remove a tumor or something. I'm gonna make sure he's comfortable when he comes home, then I'll be back."
"Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear that."
"Well, that's life sometimes. Just say a prayer for him, that's all you can do."
"Yeah," Zac replied, his heart breaking for the old man. "Sure thing."
Burt Anderson didn't have any family in the area to speak of, which was unfortunate, seeing as the feed store was a family business that had been passed down to him. He'd married the love of his life just out of high school and lost both her and the baby at childbirth just a few short years later. Since then, he had never remarried and his parents had now long since passed and his only brother lived in Oklahoma City. Zac was surprised that the old man didn't live in the feed store, but he seemed to have done well for himself over the years. Zac supposed that when you lived your life buried in your work day after day, a man had to have something to show for it. Burt boasted an immaculate store, always in good repair, stocked with the latest products and technology and he was proud of it, as he should have been.
"Keeping the books ain't hard," Burt continued, getting back on subject. "I got an order coming in next Monday--order comes every Monday--and all you do is make sure you got everything, make sure it all comes in one piece, verify the inventory, and put it away. Make sure none of it is busted before the delivery guy leaves in case you gotta order a replacement. That's just Monday. Now, every night before you leave--"
"Why would I order a replacement?" Zac interrupted.
Burt looked Zac over, his face screwed up with disgust. "You said you were smart, son."
"No. I'm saying ordering a replacement seems like a waste of money, depending on the degree of the damage. We could just sew up a feed sack and sell it at a discount and lose out on a little, rather than spending money on a brand new sack when the damaged one is still just as good."
The old man adjusted his glasses with is finger and studied Zac for a moment. "Huh. Maybe you are smart. I never thought of that. You know how to sew?"
"It's not hard. But I bet whatever I can't do, my girl can do."
"Yeah," Burt replied in thought. "You got you a good one, there, with that Harlow girl. Look, if you need a man to help you with stocking and loading for customers while you watch the front, your brothers can help if they want. But I can't pay them. Try not to let that pretty one behind the counter, though. He don't seem too bright."
Zac had to laugh. He couldn't help himself. "Who, Taylor? Well, he's plenty bright. He just ain't got the sense God gave him sometimes."
"Well. Whatever you say. I need someone with sense figuring my numbers. That's why I'm trusting you."
"I appreciate that, sir. I won't let you down."
"I trust you won't. Now get on back there, we're expecting a busy day today. Got a new brand of feed in, supposed to be healthier. Farmers been asking me for it left and right. Hope you brought your strength this morning."
"Yes, sir," Zac replied, tying his hair up with the tie that wrapped around his wrist.
As he made his way to the loading dock behind the store, Zac's ego soared. Since becoming unemployed and living with the gypsies--and going to jail hadn't helped--nobody had ever displayed trust in him like this. He was honored that Burt believed in him enough to run the store properly. And he should. Zac knew the ins and outs of running it, anyway. It hadn't taken long to figure it out, besides the way Burt shared all the aspects of the business with him in everyday conversation. Zac had taken in every word that he'd said to him and he could almost bet he could open up his own feed store if he wanted to. But he'd never do that to Burt.
No. Zac's biggest claim to fame was to never work under someone for as long as he lived. But the truth was, he would shovel manure with his bare hands from dawn until dusk if Burt Anderson wanted him to.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
"Hold still, Bessie!" Millie grunted as she squeezed the life out of her cousin's ribcage.
"I'm doing the best I can with all your pulling!" Bessie gasped.
Bessie could only imagine the sight with what little oxygen she had left in her brain at the present moment. As Bessie stood, holding on tight to one of her tall, wooden bedposts, Millie's foot was braced on her foot board as she laced and pulled the corset closed around Bessie's waist. She always heard that it was never easy being beautiful. She couldn't breathe, but she figured that if she had just enough oxygen to get from point A to point B, she would be okay. It was a small price to pay to have curves. And then, once she was curvy, Zac would never run out of excitement ever again. He could say it was because he hurt her all he wanted, but the more she thought about it, the more everything started making sense. He'd made such a big deal about her taking off her dress, that when she got down to her silk chemise, he wanted her to leave it on. And she knew it was because he realized what a beanpole she was and that he would be disappointed once she took off the undergarment. She just knew it.
She wanted Zac to want her. She wanted him to desire her and find her irresistible. She wanted him to be so insatiable with lust for her that he would never have a problem staying turned on ever again. And if this corset was a step in that direction, she would endure whatever she had to endure to get there.
"You're stick thin," Millie grunted again. "I still don't understand why you think you need this."
"I need it because I'm stick thin. Or at least until I can get my hands on enough money for a breast augmentation."
At this, Millie released her and let out a breath of exasperation. "A breast augmentation?"
"Yes. All the talking picture ladies are doing it. And they all look absolutely ravishing."
"There's nothing wrong with your breasts, Bessie. Nothing a good brazier wouldn't fix, anyway. And, besides, judging by the way Zac couldn't keep his hands off of you at the river the last time, he apparently wants to ravish you, without the corset or the augmentation."
Bessie spun around and beamed excitedly at her cousin. "He's already ravished me--twice."
Millie's eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped. "Beatrice! How dare you keep such a thing from me! When?"
Bessie lowered her voice, unsure of her mother's whereabouts in the house. "In the barn after the river. And then the second time last night."
"Oh, Bessie, you must tell me everything! Did you use protection?"
Bessie looked at Millie, stumped. "Did we use what?"
"You know...protection. I make all my boyfriends wear a condom. If any one of them knocked me up, my life would surely be over."
"Knock you up?"
Millie sighed, frustrated. "Get me pregnant. You know. You really are so sheltered sometimes."
Bessie was surprised that her heart could even beat with the corset around her waist, sucking the life out of her. But her heart pounded, nonetheless, and paranoia and panic rose up in her quickly. "Well...I don't know...I don't...I don't think he was wearing one..."
"Did you see him put one on?"
"No..."
"Do you even know what a condom looks like?"
Bessie shook her head.
"Oh, Bess. Has he at least been pulling out?"
"Well he can't stay inside me forever," Bessie retorted with a smart aleck tone.
"Oh my god," Millie breathed, placing a frustrated hand on her forehead. "You have to use protection, dear cousin. You just have to."
"Zac wouldn't do anything that would hurt me or...or anything."
"Yeah, but if he gets you pregnant, you're done for. Your father will murder him. Or worse, he'll force you to marry him."
"How is that worse? Marrying Zac wouldn't be so bad..."
"Really? So you want to end up barefoot and pregnant and poor while your baby grows up in the dirt with gypsies and no decent education? 'Cause that's what's gonna happen if you suddenly end up knocked up and unprepared. Your father will force Zac to marry you before he's ready to--something Zac will only grow to resent--and then your father will disown you, cause he sure won't support you and that baby. You can count on that."
Bessie's eyes widened as she took her cousin's words in. Somehow, hearing versions of this from her father hadn't quite struck a chord with her as much as it did the way Millie was presenting it. After all, if someone who enjoyed sex as much as Millie was issuing this many warnings to her, there had to be some stock in it. And she was right. Everybody was right. If Bessie suddenly popped up pregnant, she couldn't go to school, and there was no way Zac would be able to find any gainful employment in nine months. It just wasn't possible, not while the country was in the middle of a depression. The realization hit Bessie hard and she hated even thinking about the idea of questioning something about her relationship with Zac.
Trying to deflect her own apprehensions, she turned the conversation on Millie. "For someone who gets around as much as you do, I'm surprised you're trying to talk me out of it so much. I thought you'd be proud of me."
"Oh, I am proud of you," Millie nodded, matter-of-factly. "I'm the biggest advocate of 'try it before you buy it' you'll ever meet. I'm simply telling you not to get caught and not to get pregnant. Simple as that. Make Zac wear a condom. If he really loves you, he'll do it."
In thought, Bessie found herself by accident in the full-length mirror. The basic, white corset that belonged to Millie, and squeezed her ribcage in unnatural ways, made her waist look fantastic. She ran her hands own the sides of her body, smiling slightly at the way her hands sunk into her waist and then back out over her hips. This was what she wanted. Now, with just a little more on top, she would be so desirable that Zac--
Then an uninvited visual of her walking barefooted around the gypsy camp, eight months pregnant, halted her admiration of herself. She loved Zac, but the truth was that wasn't really the life she wanted--and she knew Zac didn't either. So why would they want to raise a baby in it? No. Millie was right. If they were going to have sex, they needed to really start thinking about things.
Things like this corset, for instance.
"Take this off of me," Bessie said into the mirror.
"You witnessed the hell I went through to get it on you, didn't you?"
"Millie, please. You have to take it off. I can't wear it. I look amazing, but I can't get pregnant. And if I walk around him looking like this, he'll probably knock me up with triplets!"
"No, he won't, because you look downright ridiculous," Millie muttered.
"Do what?"
"You look ridiculous," she said louder. "Corsets are for women who need the extra help keeping their extra parts in. You wouldn't have extra parts even if you tried. You don't need the corset. And I don't think Zac's the type of man who would appreciate you in one anyway. Not after he picked you when he could have had any of the corset-wearing harlots in Tulsa. Trust me."
"You wear a corset. Are you calling yourself a harlot?"
"Let's not get technical. You know what I meant. So now what are you gonna do?" Millie asked, as she approached Bessie and started unlacing the back of the corset.
Bessie stood straighter in the mirror as Millie worked behind her. Huffing a breath, she nodded at herself. "I guess I'm gonna have to stuff my brazier and eat cakes and pies that go straight to my hips."
Millie chuckled and shook her head. "You're hopeless, Bessie. Absolutely hopeless."
That might be true. But she just knew that eating cakes and pies would be much more fun than the conversation she knew she was going to have to have with Zac.