TG Techie: Chapter 18: Makeup


No way around it, I had to take off my shirt to put my bra back on. But something had changed about me. Maybe it was because I was a freshman and I had bigger boobs than Rachel. Maybe it was because I had just taken part in a micro-bachanal. Whatever it was, I stripped off my shirt with only a little hesitation, to the general boredom of the rest of the Loft. I picked up my bra, put it over my shoulders, and then turned my back on Autumn. She had just got her panties on, and was hunting for her pants. I caught her eye over my shoulder, “Can you snap me. It is your fault it’s off.” She stood and brushed my hair out of the way. “Last clasp.”

Then she gave me the shivers with a kiss in the center of my back.

I went down the ladder with muscles that felt like water, and a spring in my step. I hadn’t gotten off, not everyone had. But there was a feeling of cleared air. Like we had all come just a little closer together. I felt like we were synched up, as we finished the last of the flats. Thirty minutes after Susan showed back up, it was time to go home.

“Buckle your seat belt, or you might fall out of the chair,” Autumn said, as I relaxed into Bruce. I was feeling cuddly and warm. The smell in the SUV was still overpowering, but familier now. I opened my window and let the wind blow through my hair as we drove through the dusk light.

At my driveway I turned to her. What’s etiquette here? “Thank you for groping me”?

She leaned in close and put her finger to my lips to hush me, “We’ll do it again, real soon.”

When she took the finger away I kissed her. Closed mouth, but with feeling. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” She nodded. I bit my lip, and grabbed my pack before I could say anything else.


I sat down at my laptop, then got up, took my shirt off, and ditched the stupid bra. I looked in the mirror and cupped my breasts. The way Autumn did. She knew I was close. Next time I’ll be ready. She was sweet, and attractive, and a little dangerous. I thought I liked her more than I should have, faster than I should have. I gave myself a little jiggle, noticed the little freckles on white skin. I pinched my own nipples for a bit but it wasn’t the same. Then I sighed and put a shirt on and sat back down.

There was an email from my father.

I ignored it, and went on tumblr. Bree had a page, I knew, and Autumn. They had linked to the rest, so I followed them. I needed a profile picture, because my handle was edwardisasparklefairy. Not really pertinent to anything in current events, but it had been, five years before.

I posed in front of the webcam, and did my best to make my emerald eyes sumwhat alluring. Hmmm. Not like Autumn’s eyes. I need eyeshadow. Nope. Remember Rule no.2. But maybe I could try it out with Autumn? In my bedroom, where no one would suspect anything.

I opened my email tab back up and stared at the message again.

That picture could use some help. I pulled it into photoshop and got to work with my tablet. Subtle burn on a new layer over my eyelids. Adjustment layer and make it… Purple. No, too girly. That was a bridge too far. Aisling you’re drawing makeup on yourself to see what you’ll look like, because you want to wear makeup.

No I don’t Aisling. I want to see if I can make my eyes look sexier.

I mean, no I don’t Aisling. I want to see what it looks like for no reason at all. That was better.

Burgundy then. Dial the color a little bit. Cut out the rest of the room and put it a mask on an adjustment layer, fade it out. Bloom the light in the background.

I looked at it for a moment. Redder cheeks. Bring back the skin tone so that the freckles are a little muted. Bring up the skin tone so the freckles pop.

Open up the browser. Stare at the email.

My lips are too… something. Dark? No, light. I added more red, and then added a little purple. Export as .jpg, and update.

Autumn had already connected to me. I scanned her feed a bit.

I switched to the email tab again, then immediately dialed away from it.

I went to facebook, and cleared all 48 friends. Kept my mom and my grandma. Used the same picture.

Back to the email tab, I hovered over it. Then tapped my mouse.


I’m sorry. Please come home.

Who does that bastard think he is? I wrote a three hundred word reply in two minutes, then deleted it. Then I wrote two word reply, and deleted that. Then I wrote 500 words, carefully over half an hour, and deleted that.

My father left me in the hospital, because he ‘didn’t have a daughter.’ Joann would have told him exactly what happened, or as much as she understood had happened. He still didn’t come. It hadn’t hurt much then, because I was dealing with so much. But it had turned raw and then festered. Emailing me wasn’t antibiotics, it was pus.

He had my number, he could have texted. He could have done anything. The coward just sent me an email, because that’s the way he wanted to communicate. Without communicating. He wanted me home where he could ignore me. Leave me to whatever I did and rely on my being there when he wanted attention, not the other way around.

I don’t know what I am to him. Certainly not his daughter. Probably not his son.

But here? I could… I could be my mother’s daughter. You know. For now.

I closed my laptop without replying and got up to turn my light off. Then went to bed, occasionally trembling with hurt and rage.


Autumn texted me to say she was going to be late the next morning, which was fine, because I’d needed more sleep.

I hit her back and recomended we skip first period. I didn’t need to learn nothing in History. She sent me back a smiling face, and I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Mom shook me awake a half an hour later, “Are you going to school today?”

I explained the situation to her by saying “Mmph,” and rolling over.

“I guess one day won’t hurt.”

“It’s just the one class. Autumn is running late.”

“I can take you.”

“I’d rather die.”

She got off the bed, “Suit yourself, because if you fail this class you’re a dead woman walking.”

When I heard her leave for work I couldn’t get back to sleep again. I climbed out of my bed and took a shower. A few weeks ago, in this situation, I would have wandered around the house in a towel, as I got breakfast, and I was fastening it around my waist when my arm ran across previously absent protrussions, and I realized that a different configuration was in order. Fine.

Ah. I needed a bigger towel. Or smaller breasts. Or a shorter trunk. Well.

I tied it anyway and headed downstairs to find a poptart. The towel came undone from the shaking halfway down the stairs, and had to be retied. Then again going up the stairs. I couldn’t do it with a poptart in my hand. I left it there and finished my poptart while staring, naked, into my closet.

Rule no.2: No girl clothes; No skirts. No dresses. No bikinis. No heels. No makeup.

On the other hand you bought that skirt. Why did you buy it if you weren’t going to wear it? I didn’t have an answer for that. I pulled the hanger out of the closet and laid the thing on the bed, and stared at it. “Daring.” Was I in a mood to be daring?

My doorbell rang and I went to open the door, remembering to put a shirt on only when I was halfway down the stairs. Then running back upstairs to put on my pajama pants. Autumn stood on the desk with a tacklebox. “I thought we could do your makeup, since we have some time,” she jiggled the box and it rattled.

“Is that… is that all your here for?”

“We can do your makeup, or you can pay me back for yesterday.”

I opened the door all the way and she gave me a peck when she walked inside. My knees almost gave way, and my heart stopped, “Let’s do makeup.” Before I did something extreme.


Autumn sat me down on my bed and pulled my computer chair over, then laid her tackle box on the trunk at the foot of my bed. She opened it to reveal tubes, and jars, and brushes, and pencil things, and lipstick things, thin plastic cylinders, and big (also thin) plastic cases.

I looked straight ahead as she took my chin in her hand and tilted my head this way and that. “I don’t want to do foundation. I don’t want to cover up those freckles, and in any case I don’t have a light enough shade.” She took my hand, and turned it back and forth a bit. “Let’s see here. Green eyes, can’t do green.”

“Do you have anything pur—dark red. Like a burgundy?”

“Sure, luv.” She dug around in the box and pulled out four different cases. Then with a brush she smeared five different swatches down my wrist. “I think this one, or this one.”

“That one.”

“Okay. Let’s see,” she dug around some more and pulled out several pencils, and drawing them across the swatch we’d—I’d chosen. I had no idea what they were for, and didn’t want to ask for fear of seeming stupid. “Which one.”

There was a pink that looked fantastic paired with the red. I pointed to it, then realized it was pink and screamed in shock inside my head.

“Okay, close your eyes.” I felt her paint with the brush on each eyelid. Then it went way and I opened my eyes. “Not yet, luvvey.” My breath quickened hearing the name she had called me during the bacchanal, and I shut my eyes tight. “Don’t squinch your eyes, or I can’t work.” I felt the pencil tip just above each eyelash, and then under the bottom lash. “You can open your eyes now.”

I opened them to see her holding a mirror in front of me, and jammed them shut again.

“You have to look sooner or later, luv.”

Right. Open your eyes Aisling. I looked to see a very pretty girl in the mirror. She wasn’t cute, she was… not sexy—well no, sexy… but in, like, the right way. Like, if you could distill cuteness down to the sexifying point, that would be the way this girl looked. And then I turned my head. That girl must be you, Aisling. That girl, that you would totally fuck, is how you look.


If that’s what a little makeup can do to my face, then what would lipstick do? “Yeah.”

“Pink or r—”

“Red.” There were some tubes and sticks pulled out, and I pointed.

“No, luv, I want to try this one first.”

That one didn’t look red at all. It was in a tube and looked brown.

“Why are you closing your eyes?” Autumn asked, as she came at me with the tube.

I kept my eyes clenched closed, “Just do it.” The lipstick ran over my top lip, and then the bottom.

“Pucker,” she said. It was wet, and tacky. More sticky than chapstick and made my lips feel heavy. “No, don’t run your tongue over it. There was a reapplication, then my lips were wiped off when that wasn’t enough to undo the ruin, and a re-rapplication after that. “Mirror.”

“Yeah, I’d fuck me.”

Autumn stood and kissed my nose, then started packing all her things away. Deprived of the mirror, I went over to the one that stood between the window and my desk. The one I had first seen my vagina in. And now my made up face. I found a brush, and ran it through my hair as she finished packing.

“Ooooooh this is great,” I turned to see Autumn holding the skirt up, and then putting it agains her legs. She was wearing slim jeans and high tops.

“You can wear it if you want.” I’d never shared my clothes before, and hell if I could figure out why I wanted to now.

“Have you worn it?”

“No, it’s new.”

She gave me a look, “I can’t wear your clothes before you do. Let me see you in it.”

“I’m not even sure I want to wear it today.” I gestured to the sunny 80 degree day outside, “It might be cold.”

“Well you’d look great in it, and I want to see.” She threw it at me.

“Fine,” I giggled to cover up my shyness, “Turn around.”

“You’ve watched me finger my own pussy.”

I made a turn around gesture and ignored her eyeroll, waiting until she had her back to me. Then I stripped out of my pajama pants, realized that I was bottomless, and hunted around my dresser for panties.

“You’re a fire crotch!” Autumn had peeked.

I covered myself instinctually, and felt my blush all the way down to my nipples, “Turn around!”

She rolled her eyes and turned again, “Is it true they taste like cinnimon?”

“I wouldn’t know. And that’s racist. Okay, you can look now.”

Rule no.2 had lost two pillars today. Skirt and makeup. I wanted to feel bad, but it felt like I was walking a tightrope. Not the part where I could fall at any time. The part where I was balancing above everything, watching the ground below and knowing that I was doing something incredible.

Autumn turned and gave me a “whoot whoot,” while she pulled the imaginary cord on an air horn.

I had to look down, because my grin threatened to crack my face in half, “Thanks. You really think I look okay?”

“Girl you look dangerous to be around. You just need a better top.”

I hadn’t planned on that, “All I have are t-shirts.”

“Oh, take mine,” and she dropped her jacket on the floor, and pulled off her tank top. It was black, and had stripes, and matched the skirt. She threw it on my bed and went to my closet.

I picked it up, and felt it in my hands as she perused my paltry collection. It wasn’t spaghetti strap, Rule no.2 wouldn’t be swept aside. It also wasn’t long. “I’m… not sure I’ll fit into it.”

“Your giant boobies you mean? Try it on and we’ll see. Did you lose all your clothes in a fire or something?”

I took my shirt off, feeling okay since at this point she’d seen or touched everything I had to see, and could touch whatever she wanted. “No…um… I just switched from my dad’s house.”

“Is he gonna send your clothes?”

“He’ll probably have them all burned instead.”

“Lose a custody battle?”

“Not a loss as much as a forfit.” Man, it is easy to skirt the truth here. “He sent me an email, asking me to come live with him.”

She turned from the closet holding my favorite shirt, “Well if you stay here you’re gonna get mad laid.” She slipped the shirt on over her bra and against all reason it fit. “Last year I was the new girl, and everyone wanted to play with me.”

I giggled, and didn’t notice how girly it was, as I finished getting my bra on, and slipped on the tank top.

Autumn put her finger on her cheek, “… you need the jacket too.”

It smelled like cigarettes and her perfume, and it was a little stiff as I slipped it on. The hem was short and didn’t reach down past my waist. I turned in the mirror, marveling at the reflection.

“I’m gonna buy you some knee highs to go with it,” Autumn winked at me.

They would complete it. Rule no.2 was a ruin, and Autumn planned to dance on the rubble.

“Come on, we’ll hit traffic and be on time for fourth period.”

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