Double Cross - 2. Chapter 2

Jamie and Trisha made their way back to their room. Trish fell into a deep sleep but Jamie lay awake, unable to stop replaying the interlude by the pool, reliving the wicked sensations. He felt evolved, discovered. Uncovered. Blaine had exposed him, exposed Jamie and this new Jamie was strange, different. He was a stranger to himself. Eventually he drifted off to be pleasantly troubled by dreams where he was the cosseted beloved of a boyish woman or being pleasured by a nellie, fey young man.

In the early morning, Jamie felt the brush of fingers over his cheek, the raspy day’s growth of beard pulling the skin. He opened his eyes in the dim light, sleep still only a breath away. Trisha lay on her side watching him, eyes as soft as her caress.

“I’m heading in to breakfast.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his forehead. “You should stay; sleep in if you need to.”

With another pat on his cheek, Trisha slipped from the bed. Still exhausted from the restless night, Jaime turned and pressed his face into the pillow. Further sleep eluded him. After a half hour of listening to the patter of rain on the roof, he forced himself out of bed. He listened for activity in the house, a sign of the owners or Trish and Silas and Blaine, but heard nothing. As he headed for the small bath on the other side of the room, he determined to approach the day casually, as if what had happened the previous night was nothing out of the ordinary. If only he could stop his mind from trying to make sense of last night’s experience, reviewing details and considering implications. If only Trisha were still here so that he could gauge her reaction.

“It was just a night of casual sex. You’re on vacation. Unshackled. Take the days and the experiences as they come,” he counseled himself. “For this one week, don’t anticipate. Don’t expect. Just be.”

When Jamie entered the breakfast room, it was empty. The remains of a picked over continental breakfast sat on the sideboard. He smeared jam on a croissant, filled a mug with tepid tea and went looking for his wife and the other guests. In the hallway, the faint sound of conversation drew him towards what turned out to be a sort of sitting room at the front of the house.
His wife and Blaine were seated in large, white rocking chairs facing a massive window with an ocean view. Rain lashed at the panes and squalling wind bent the tall palm trees on the other side. Today’s ocean view was a distant dark gray meeting a light gray sky.

Both Blaine and Trisha glanced up as he entered the room and beckoned him over. He couldn’t help appreciating their casual elegance as he approached. He felt suddenly dowdy in shorts wrinkled from the suitcase and a dull blue collarless t-shirt. Blaine sported lightweight chinos with a sharp crease. His knit top hugged the firm lines of his upper body. His legs were crossed at the knee, and a foot adorned by a slim leather loafer in a cheery red swung freely. He wasn’t wearing socks which seemed very gay in a happy, carefree way. He looked both manly and feminine. Jamie averted his eyes as his body again reacted in confusion to this man who had so mastered it last night.

Trisha was her usual organized and straightforward self in leggings and a billowy, tropical print top. Her hair was caught up in a pony tail and tied with a contrasting scarf. She’d drawn one leg up in the large chair and a bare foot with clear polish on the toes pushed against the floor. The chair rocked slowly. She was cute and fine and superior and everything that was right in his life. As he drew abreast of her she smiled, warming him. She, too, looked very gay, he thought. Free. Free from concerns that had troubled him through the night.

“Honey, Blaine was just telling me about the most marvelous sounding spa on the island. I was worried we’d be stuck here with all the rain, but now I’m looking forward to a day of being pampered.”

Jamie glanced around. The other chairs were too far for him to seat himself and comfortably converse. He propped a shoulder against the window. Still holding the mug of tea, he lifted the croissant with his other hand and took a bite. Crusty flakes fluttered onto the front of his shirt. “Might be difficult to get an appointment.”

“Expressions Spa is run by a friend of mine. Their spa experience is really quite extraordinary. I left a message for Dee. She can probably get us in. At the very least, we can do some shopping. The place has an amazing collection of resort wear.”

Trisha brightened at the prospect of a shopping trip. “Blaine, that sounds wonderful. I do hope they can at least fit us in for a mani/pedi.”

“And a massage.” Blaine parried.

“Mud facials.”

“Haircuts.”

“Brazilian wax.”

“Ow!” Blaine reached out a leg and gave Trisha’s chair a playful push.

Jamie finished his croissant as the two bantered. He’d never been to a spa. Mani/pedi? Brazilian wax? His head filled with images from television of women reclining in dentist chairs with cucumbers on their eyes. Another part of his brain marveled at the new camaraderie between Blaine and his wife. How did they do it? Establish a rapport so quickly? He supposed it was easy for Blaine. He’d lived in both worlds. He could probably connect with anyone. Trisha, of course, had a tendency to become the center of any conversation. Talking wasn’t a problem for her. He stuffed the napkin in his pocket and sipped the cooling tea, trying to appear at ease as he leaned against the window.

“G’morning, all,” Silas entered the room with a good natured bellow.

Trisha gave him a blushing look, but he only favored her with an impersonal smile, then nodded at Jamie. Striding over to Blaine, he brushed a kiss across his cheek. “I’ll be back late tonight or maybe not until tomorrow. With the bad weather here, they’re flying us over to film on a island that’s not in the path of the storm.”

Blaine waved him off and with an obligatory “Have a good day” addressed to the room, the large man departed.

“Film?” Jamie asked.

“He’s shooting a week’s worth of shows while he’s here. Sizzilin’ with Silas in the tropics. They’d planned to shoot all five shows today at an outside location.”

“Sounds interesting.” The words from Trisha were benign, but subdued. The earlier gaiety dimmed under her crossed arms and drawn up feet. The sex last night had been casual, playful, at least from the point of view of Silas and Blaine. Jaime hoped Trisha understood that. Still, he couldn’t help feeling bad for his wife. She’d literally laid herself open to Silas last night, and he’d barely acknowledged her this morning.

“Don’t be bothered by Silas,” Blaine gave Trisha’s chair another push to start it rocking. “He does the whole Jekyll/Hyde thing on the days he’s filming. Prima Dona chef, and all that. Trust me, you don’t want to be around him today. Now, talk to me about Expressions. Should I book us for the day? The works?”

Trisha shrugged. “Why not?”

Blaine grinned and turned to Jamie expectantly. “I’m making reservations for three, right?”

An image again arose, this time of the three of them in short robes, being petted, powdered, pampered by a sycophant staff. Jamie looked at the two of them, already groomed and sporty in the tall chairs while he slumped oafishly against the window in a crumbly, wrinkled shirt.

“No.” He swatted away the invitation to be part of their intimate coterie. “I’ll stay here. I have some reading to catch up on.”

His wife actually looked briefly disappointed before she shrugged and turned to Blaine. “Just the two of us then.”

Blaine’s gaze hadn’t left Jamie, continuing to study him with searching, understanding eyes. Jamie looked down at his feet, shifted his weight, again feeling the erotic pull of the strange, young man who seemed so comfortably, femininely male. He swallowed, wanting to change his churlish answer and yet unable to actually say the word.

Blain stood lightly and offered a hand to Trisha. “I’ll make a call to my friend, and we’ll be underway.”

The room was silent when they left, save for the wind driving rain against the windows. Jamie browsed the room’s tall bookcases, finding them filled with classics. The book bindings were uniform, signifying they’d been ordered in bulk, as part of a collection to fill the shelving. He drew one out. It had never been opened. He gently broke in the spine, then replaced it and drew out another. It, too, was new. Clearly guests of the inn did not come here to read.

The sound of a car making its way down the drive signaled the departure of Blaine and Trisha. He settled back on the couch and turned on a reading lamp, but the book failed to hold his attention. He found himself wondering what Trisha and Blaine were doing and wishing he’d agreed to go with them. As the morning wore on, the poor night’s rest caught up with him. Eventually he slipped out of his shoes, stretched his feet out on the couch and closed his eyes.

****************************

“Looks like I wore you out last night.” From the recesses of sleep, Jamie felt the book he was holding pulled from his hands. With a start, he opened his eyes to see Blaine staring down at him. He was leaning on the back of the couch and a little smile played around his mouth.

“Where’s Trisha?” He sat up, trying to clear his head after the mid-morning nap.

“She’s still at the spa.” Blaine walked around the front of the couch and kicked Jamie’s shoes over to him. “Put your shoes on. We’re heading back there.”

Jamie’s eyes widened as he saw how Blaine was dressed. He worked at putting on his shoes as he stared at the slender, young man in front of him. “Why are you in a skirt?”

Blaine looked down at himself as if surprised at the question. When he looked up, he was wearing a little smirk. “It’s a uniform, of course. Field hockey. We’ve got a pick-up game going.”

Jamie continued to stare.

“Like it, do you?” Blaine gave a little spin so that the short skirt spun briefly about his legs. It was made from a modern sort of athletic material, Jamie noted, not the traditional plaids he was accustomed to seeing. The top appeared to be just a t-shirt, thin cotton, with a scooped out “v” for a neckline. All Blaine’s well-formed musculature was still there, but the neckline emphasized Blaine’s narrow collarbones, the clingy material drew attention to the indented waistline. Long legs descended from the skirt, either shaven or with hair so light as to be invisible.

Jamie wanted to continue staring, teasing out the masculine and feminine features, both of which were oddly emphasized by the sporty uniform. Memories of last night invaded. He found himself aroused, achingly curious to see Blaine fully unclothed and still too unsure to act on the curiosity. His voice broke when he spoke. “It looks fine. Good. You look good.”

He blushed.

“Everyone on the field wears a skirt, you know. Not just the girls.” Blaine beckoned him, either oblivious to or ignoring the direction of Jamie’s thoughts. “C’mon. We’re holding things up.”

Jamie allowed Blaine to lead the way outside. The rain had stopped. Sun was glinting through fast moving clouds in the sky above, making the damp ground glisten. Jamie followed as Blaine turned onto a narrow path through the foliage surrounding the inn. Blaine was looking very fine, his face appearing quite fey today and completely smooth. Jaime saw no hint of the whiskers that had been evident last night. That spa must offer an extremely close shave.

“I don’t understand where we’re going,” he panted out the words as Blaine broke into a trot. They were on a path through the islands jungle undergrowth. Wet leaves brushed his bare legs as he worked to keep up.

“The spa, of course.” Blaine hopped over a log, the flippy skirt floating up in the back and then settling again. “It’s just up the path here. Actually, we should hurry.”

He picked up the pace, body moving lightly and easily over the ground. Jamie opened his mouth to protest but was pleased to find he had no trouble keeping up. Perhaps he was not in such poor shape. Feeling rather proud of himself, he trotted behind Blaine and started to enjoy the adventure of it all. Soon enough, they arrived at the edge of a clearing. The timorous sound of stampeding feet and the cheers of spectators reached his ears. A very active field hockey match was, indeed, underway. Refreshed and invigorated by the run, they rounded the backside of one of the goal nets. Jamie followed Blaine into a group of athletes wearing skirts the same cinnamon color as his companion. They gave them the barest of glances, too intent on watching the action on the pitch.

Blaine and Jamie stood off to the side and when the umpire stopped the clock to retrieve a lost ball, they were approached by the only person on the sideline wearing pants instead of a skirt. Jamie surmised from the whistle and clipboard and authoritative, striding gait that this was the team’s coach.

“I found him, Dee.” Blaine greeted “Dee” with a faire la bise, leaning forward to brush lips to cheek. When they separated, Jamie studied the boyish woman he stood before. Sun streaked, dark blond hair was just visible under a lightweight cap and visor. Thin, intelligent lips and a narrow nose with faint freckles sat below dark brown eyes. She looked commanding and while she offered a friendly greeting to Blaine, she also had an impatient air about her, as if she wasn’t sure this interruption was worth her time.

Blaine nudged him forward a bit and Dee turned her attention in Jaime’s direction. A single brow arched and lips pursed as her eyes traveled downward, examining Jamie from head to toe. “Are you sure about this one?”

“Very sure.” Blaine responded to Dee’s assessment but to what end, Jamie wasn’t sure. He was oddly unconcerned by their discussion. He felt only that he wanted to continue being carried along, towed in Blaine’s wake to whatever queer adventure lay ahead.

“We don’t really need another player on our team.” The brown eyes traveled over him once more, taking inventory. He felt suddenly shy, unsure of how to stand or look, unsure of whether he should speak or remain silent. Dee. He recalled the name. She was the one who owned the spa. She would be deciding whether he would be part of this adventure at all. Jamie was struck by an urge to please her, by a desire that she should find him pleasing.

Shrugging, Dee swiveled toward Blaine, grabbed a fistful of t-shirt and tugged him forward. He bent until they were of even height, almost nose-to-nose. “He can suit up. But you owe me for this one.”

A huge grin broke out on Blaine’s face at the gruff words. “Thanks, Dee.”

He caught her head with one hand and covered her mouth in a kiss, but she pushed off his playful thank you, landing a smack on his rear as he turned away.

“Let’s go.” Blaine took an arm, guiding Jamie towards an enclosed canvas tent on the sidelines. He drew back the flap and ushered Jamie inside. Jamie looked around the temporary structure that apparently served as both changing room and medical facility. Two folding chairs and a cot took up most of the floor space. A table stacked with spare uniforms, hockey sticks and first aid supplies was jammed to one side.

Jamie’s sense of well-being faded. The run through the woods. The tomboyish coach and her enigmatic conversation with Blaine. His failure to meet her obscure expectation. It all began to unsettle him.

“Where’s Trisha?” he thought to ask.

“She’s the whole reason I went collect you.” Blaine strode over to the table and began sorting through uniforms. One by one, he held them up, eyed Jamie, then tossed them back onto the table. “Well, maybe not the whole reason. You really need this spa. I figure the hockey game is a good place to start.”

“I’ve never heard of a spa with field hockey.”

“This spa provides whatever a guest wants and after Trisha had her hair done, she wanted to play hockey. Unfortunately, the opposing team recruited her. I thought we might need you to even out the numbers.”

Blaine paused in sorting the clothing and looked up. “Trish said you’ve played.”

Jamie nodded and Blaine returned to his work. He’d never played more than an occasional pick-up game, but that’s how Blaine had described the current contest. Plus, he knew the sport well, having been a fan through high school and college. Lucky girls. He’d envied them in their uniforms, running hard across the playing field, skillfully maneuvering the ball with their long sticks. He’d met Trisha via the sport. She had been a crack player and quite competitive on an intramural team in college. It wouldn’t be entirely out of character for her to partake in a match on a whim.

A cheer rose from the spectators on the other side of the field, followed by a chant indicating their team had scored. Blaine frowned. “Here. Try these.”

Jamie caught the garments and held them up. A skirt and t-shirt to match Blaine and the rest of the team. He’d often fantasized about being taken charge of. Dressed up. Dreamt of going about in a short, cool skirt. But the current situation, this conscription into a hockey team…this is not at all what he’d imagined. “These will never fit.”

“Just try them on. What can it hurt?” Blaine looked momentarily distracted as he listened for the new score. He shook his head when it was announced, then grasped Jamie’s shoulder. “Look, this place is called Expressions for a reason. It’s a place where you can be yourself. Express yourself. It finds ways for you to express yourself. I’ve found it best if I just go along with things here. Now, will you try on the uniform?”

Jaime stared down at the cinnamon colored skirt. He’d come all this way. No one knew him here. He supposed he could try dressing up this one time, no matter how foolish he felt. “Alright.”

Blaine didn’t release his shoulder and move off like Jamie expected. He looked up from the clothes he held to see what the matter was and found Blaine’s thoughtful, worried eyes watching him. Blaine’s voice was low when he spoke. “I’m not the best at this. At dress up in skirts and all. But you will be. And Dee will fix anything I don’t get right. You won’t be sorry, you came along today.”

The small vulnerability from his confident, spirited companion sent a strange courage through Jamie. He clutched the clothes. “She’s probably waiting for us, right? I should get changed.”

Blaine’s countenance shifted from concern to irony. “Yes. Get changed. Change. Perfect word. It’s the changing tent. I’ll be right outside.”

So Jamie slipped out of his morning clothes and left them neatly folded on the table. He pulled on the t-shirt and skirt, finding the latter had knickers built in. The skirt’s material was soft, synthetic, yet pleasant on the skin. It slid right over his legs and hips, securing snuggly at the waist. He searched for a mirror but didn’t see one in the temporary structure. Still, from what he could tell, he didn’t look bad. His skin was pale, but the hair on his arms and legs wasn’t particularly coarse. He stuck a leg out, pointed the toe. Not bad. He held out an arm and moved it about in a willowy fashion. He liked skirts. Even this sporty one. They relaxed him, made him happy. Still, he hesitated to emerge from the tent.

Best just to go along with the experience here as Blaine had advised. Resolving to heed the advice, Jamie let go of his concerns, taking comfort in the fact that his new friend had undergone more drastic changes than just cross-dressing. Blaine seemed to have come out okay. Somewhat self-consciously, he lifted the flap to the changing tent and emerged into what was now a breezy, clear day.

As promised, Blaine was just outside the tent. He was facing the playing field, craning his neck to see the action. He glanced back as Jamie emerged, then did a double take, eyes widening in surprise. Unsure what to make of Blaine’s reaction, Jamie smoothed the skirt. “It fit after all.”

“Indeed.” Blaine continued to stare and Jamie dropped his eyes, suddenly shy. His legs felt naked, exposed under the skirt which the breeze was blowing against his thighs.

“You look good. Better than good.” Blaine moved up to him, not taking his eyes off Jamie’s face. He grasped an arm, squeezing it reassuringly, and lifted fingers to brush Jamie’s bangs back from his brow.

Holding Jamie’s arm as if afraid he may change his mind and retreat, Blaine poked his head back into the tent. When he re-emerged, he was holding a couple hockey sticks. “I’m not sure you’re going to need one of these, but let’s go see Dee.”

They walked forward, Blaine holding tight to Jaime’s hand as they passed through the crowd of spectators. Being outside wearing a skirt, holding a man’s hand, was titillating, particularly as no one seemed to notice them. The press of the crowd as they inched their way through was somehow startling and arousing in his state of hyper-awareness. Finally, they reached the sideline where Dee stood, watching and directing the players on the field.

As before, they waited for a break in the action. Jamie tried to spot Trisha but unable to pick her out among the other team’s players. Dee glanced their way and like Blaine, did a double take when she caught sight of Jamie. Crooking a finger at one of the benched players on her team, she shoved the clipboard and whistle into their hands. Free from coaching responsibilities, she marched over to them.

She barely glanced in Blaine’s direction, focusing entirely on Jamie. The brown eyes were energetic, full and they saw every bit of Jamie’s appearance, took in all of the before and after.

“You sure can pick them, Blaine.” Dee reached up to push back the same locks of hair that Blaine had tucked away earlier.

“I think they pick me.” Blaine smiled. “She’s sweet, isn’t she? Nearly pretty? And not what you expected?”

At this Dee looked at her friend, gave him a knowing smile. “Or you either, I suspect.”

She returned her eyes to Jamie, then reached her fingertips up to lightly trace brow and cheekbone. Jamie’s heart fluttered at the touch, breath shortening. The ‘she’ they were referring to was himself, he realized. They were referring to him as he sometimes felt. As he felt now…girlish, airy, feminine. This newfound “she” was sweet and nearly pretty in their eyes.

Blaine smiled. “I’m not disappointed if that’s what you’re implying.”

Dee caught Jamie’s eye and gave a wink. “Seems I may have some competition. Doesn’t sound like Blaine is going to give you up. Strange. He usually goes for the gruff, burly types.”

The spectators nearby gave a collective groan and both Blaine and Dee watched the scoreboard as another point lit up for the opposing team. Dee immediately turned businesslike, furrowing her brows at Blaine. “You better get out there. We’re getting trounced.”

Hands still linked, Jamie was tugged forward as Blaine made a move towards the field. They’d only taken a couple steps when Dee held up a detaining hand.

“I don’t think Jamie’s a sporty type of girl, Blaine. No need to send her onto the pitch. She can stay here on the sidelines. With me.” She grabbed Jamie’s free hand and drew it through the crook of her arm.

Blaine hesitated, glanced in askance at Jamie and then glowered at Dee. “May I remind you that I’m the one who brought her here?”

“You’re holding up the game. Get out there.” D’s voice was implacable and Blaine dropped Jamie’s hand to comply.

He took a couple steps then turned back, surprising Jamie with a kiss, a soft caress of their lips. “I’m going to score some goals for you.”

With that he was off, running onto the field, hockey stick in hand, skirt flapping around his legs. Jamie watched the departure with wonder, barely aware that Dee had drawn him towards the spectator bleachers and seated him in the front row. Was he really in a tug of war between these two queerly playful creatures?

It was a giddy thought. And arousing. He felt full under the short skirt. Not completely hard, but pleasantly responsive to the wicked competition between Blaine and Dee over him, over his girl self. “I have to finish coaching the game.” Dee was saying now. “But afterwards, I have a treat for you. A real spa experience. You’re such a lovely boy, and I’ll get you looking your girlish best.”

D looked at him expectantly, warm and wanting. Wanting him, her, the girl that he was at the moment. She was drawing the girl further out, enticing her with secret promises.

“I shouldn’t leave Blaine. Or Trisha.” He shifted on the bleachers, crossed his legs and squirmed, confused and awakened by the interest of this bold, boyish woman.

“Oh, they’ll be around. We’ll all be around. Looking our best after the post-game pampering. The real games will be this evening. I expect it to be quite an entertaining affair.”