Speaking of yesterday, Karl's mind immediately returns to trying to recall just what happened the night before and the afternoon before that. It is all still such a blurry mess in his head, with only glimpses of time accounted for. Deciding that, like everything, coffee will surely help his memory, he gets to his feet, absently adjusts his balls and cock through the gray silky panties, and walks to the kitchen and to the espresso machine there.
A cuppa brewing, he pours some granola into a bowl and covers it in soy milk. Picking up his pocketbook, he sits down at the table with the coffee and cereal.
Opening the pocketbook, he dumps the contents on the table. His reflective purple velcro wallet falls out first, followed by his iPhone, two vending machine condoms, two pairs of earrings on their velvet cardboard holders, and several pieces of wadded up paper. Picking up the papers, he starts unfolding them one by one. First, he finds a receipt from Beachcombers. The total is thirty five dollars and seventy six cents, but the charge is only for a seven dollar tip with the rest being canceled out by a gift card redemption. Next is a receipt from a store called Le Neilleur Pour vos Pieds for six hundred dollars. Holy shit. Glancing at the pair of stilettos on the sofa, he thinks, I hope I got more than one pair for that.
Next is a receipt he expected to find, given his plans yesterday and how his hair was now styled, from Beautiful You Salon. It was for four hundred sixty dollars plus a ninety-dollar tip, and that was with a twenty-five percent friends and family discount. Damn, what did Lisa sign me up for? Looking at the receipts from the salon and shoe store, he thinks, oh shit. I was out of control.
It is like I was high on something with no restraint and now with no memory of it. The next two pieces of paper are a receipt from Beach Trax for ten dollars and fifty cents, and a torn piece of cocktail napkin with a phone number on it written in a woman's hand.
Okay, I went to the salon, went overboard. Then I went to a shoe store and went overboard again. Then, based on the receipt time stamps, I went to Beachcomber and finally to Beach Trax, leaving sometime after one am. Looks like I only bought one drink at Trax, so someone else must have pitched in to give me the hangover I woke up with.
Somewhere along the way, I ran into Mandy and we then ended up back at her apartment which just happens to be in the same complex as Lisa and Jeannie's. Now having put together the rough timeline, Karl tries to fathom why he cannot really remember any of this. Also, looking at the napkin phone number, he wonders, is that Mandy's or some other woman's number?
Still working to remember the previous day and night, Karl gets an email notification on his phone. It is an email from George Frankel to Karl and Vicky asking them to come straight to his office when they arrive. Great. I am sure that will be good news. Looking outside, rain had started to fall and it was pouring down now, blowing the palms that surrounded the parking lot and lashing against the windows. Well, we will not be on the Sunfish Hotel site today. Cannot work outside in this weather.
Returning to last night's blank spot, Karl continues to regenerate missing memories as he stares down at his slim fingers intertwined around the warm coffee mug. As his mind wanders, he extends the fingers of his left hand in front of him. The antique ring, delicate fingers, and stunning nails are simply beautiful together. I could be a hand model. Tilting his head as he stares at his dark red talons, he thinks, it is such a shame I have to remove these nails before I go into work.
Unsatisfied at his recall of the previous day, but satisfied that he had done all he could to figure things out, Karl decides to get cleaned up and get ready for the day. His mind turns from what happened to what was going to happen. What could George need us for so urgently?
Putting the mug in the sink, Karl looks around the kitchen thinking, this place is a mess. I need to wash all these dishes and mop the floor. I can even see dried bare footprints on the tile. Looking to the den, he sees clothes strewn about and objects in general disarray. I had a whole weekend free. You would think I could spare fifteen minutes to clean up, would not you?
Walking past the den mess and into the bedroom, it is more of the same. Clothes that did not make it into the hamper lying on the floor, a running shoe on the bed. It looks like a college student's dorm room. Well, a female college student's dorm room anyway.
The bathroom is no better. A sodden top is still in the sink and a pair of yoga pants are discarded in the corner alongside a pair of running shorts. A compulsion builds in Karl. For a fleeting moment, he just wants to call into work and clean house all day. This is disgusting. Taking the mauve top from the sink, he wrings water out as best he can and hangs it over the shower rod and then drains the sink. Retrieving the top to the Aleve bottle, he dries it with a hand towel and then replaces it on the bottle and puts it back in the medicine cabinet. Closing the cabinet, he sees his face again, still not used to his new appearance. Worry over how his face will be accepted, though, takes a back seat to concern over Karli's new piercings. I cannot go to work like this. These, referring to his new jewelry, are something I must fix. Leaning closer to the mirror, he wonders, how should I remove them?
Remembering the salon bag, Karl wonders whether they sent any instructions for piercing care. Walking across the bathroom, he picks up the yoga pants and running shorts and, as he passes through the bedroom on the way to the den, puts them into the hamper inside his closet. Taking the salon bag from the couch, he reaches in and starts pulling things out. First, he removes the bottle of Black Opium perfume. Sniffing it he thinks, pretty fragrance. Next out of the bag is mascara. It is a salon brand he does not recognize called Feline Face. Karl then retrieves two colors of matte lipstick and then a small container with different shades of eyeliner from the same palette. Presumably, these are the items Karli was wearing last night. There is also a tube of Bronze Maintenance to be used to keep his tan. Reaching in again, there are two heavier bottles; a conditioner for dyed hair and a new shampoo, both coming under the Salon Select brand. Smelling both, Karl says, these do smell good, but I think I like my Just for Blonds better. Finally, Karl retrieves from the bag a thick stack of papers all paper clipped together.
Flipping through the sheets, the first page contains handwritten instructions from someone at the salon. Karl guesses it is Lisa's friend Simone as it reads kind of like she talks. These are instructions for caring for the new hair style. Underlined twice are admonitions to use only the new shampoo and conditioner so that the color will be maintained the longest. There are other suggestions about drying and styling the hair to get it back in salon shape easily. Looking again at the shampoo bottle, there is a note in black sharpie on the back saying, use once per shower. Do not rinse or repeat. The rinse and repeat instruction printed on the bottle is crossed out in sharpie, too.
The next page is notes from the manufacturer, Vixen Claws, about the nail extensions; how to repair chips, how to maximize the time they can be left applied, and so on. Common sense things like wearing gloves while doing dishes and avoiding impact sports are prominent. There are no instructions for actually removing the extensions, however, with the only related statement being, see your local Vixen Claws salon for any replacements. Well, that is not helpful. Karl will have to google how to remove them, he thinks, as he wonders where he put his pair of pliers.
The next four pages are what he was looking for; detailed instructions and cautions about what to do and not to do with your piercings. There are separate sections for ear piercings, nipple piercings, belly piercings, tongue piercings, and nose piercings as well as an interesting section simply labeled other piercings. Skimming through the info, the cautions are very clear that he should not attempt to remove either his nose or ear piercings, unless infected, for at least six weeks. Karli, you really did a number on me.
Still contemplating removing the piercings, he touches his nose stud. It is a little sensitive, but clearly not infected. Well, I need to get a shower. I will worry about my nails and piercings after I am out. Standing up, he decides to follow the hair care instructions, at least for now, and picks up the new shampoo and conditioner as he strolls toward the bath. No point in damaging his hair, and he does like the new color.
Standing in front of the tub, he asks himself, tub or bath? Feeling his silky smooth legs and arms, he thinks, shower will do. Definitely do not need to shave anything. Turning on the shower, he steps in and, using his moisturizing wash and sponge, begins cleaning himself. His denuded skin is alive with sensual sensitivity. His nipples harden quickly as he rubs his chest and stomach and his cock jumps again to full attention when he touches, well, anywhere. He is inexplicably extra horny for some reason, surprising since it appears he filled a condom just a couple of hours ago. Using the new shampoo (only once), he is amazed how much easier it is to wash his shorter hair. Applying the new conditioner, he waits the required ninety seconds and rinses it out.
Having finished the real purpose of his shower, Karl turns off the water. He does, however, have one last piece of business to take care of before he leaves the confines of the tub. Sitting down, he begins stroking his immense cock, somehow looking even bigger in his petite hands. Looking down at his nails going up and down the veiny shaft, he imagines this is Lisa's hand and, unlike yesterday, his orgasm comes quickly and is both intense and gratifying, a satisfied moan escaping his full lips. A moment of lightheadedness follows and he thinks, wow, that was amazing.
Standing up in the tub again, he momentarily turns on the handheld shower and rinses off his spent tool. Taking the towel hanging on a hook, he pats himself mostly dry. He starts to put the towel around his head, but realizes that he really does not need a hair towel given how much less volume he has. Wrapping the towel around his chest instead, without even thinking, Karl looks down at what his hands just did and thinks, why did I do that? He starts to unwrap the towel and put it around his waist as usual, but in the end, just lets it stay. Having the towel around his chest does make applying moisturizer to his legs easier and he finishes his routine by applying the lotion to his arms, face, and neck.
Taking a deep breath, Karl picks up his thick toothed comb and starts working his hair into place. Using the comb, a brush, and his hair dryer, he tries in vain to find a way to style it so that it would look like a guy style, any guy style, he had ever seen. It was hopeless. Even with nothing applied to his face, his piercings, hair style, and arched thin eyebrows combined with the changes his face went through yesterday are stacked against Karl making an appearance. He is like a salmon swimming up a raging stream of feminine touches. Even shaving his head, he would just look like an attractive bald woman. Sighing defeatedly, Karl knows he has little choice.
A stray tear rolls down his face as he walks into the kitchen and retrieves his phone from the table where it landed earlier. Pulling up iMessage, he starts clicking out letters with his crimson nails: call me when you can. nine one one.
Moments later, the phone rings and Karl picks it up. The voice on the other end asks in a very concerned tone, what is wrong, Karl? What has happened? Karl starts to weep heavily now, huge tears rolling down his face and for a moment he cannot respond. The caller, sounding more frantic, says, talk to me, Karl. Say something.
Taking a deep raspy breath, Karl starts to speak. Vicky, girlfriend, I need your help. While Karl cannot explain what happened yesterday, partly because he really does not know, he does manage to tell Vicky that he made some mistakes while visiting a salon and it would be hard for him to show up at work looking like himself, hard for him to look like a man.
Vicky bites her lip fighting back a smile. She is hugely sympathetic as she knows Karl is desperately asking for help, but at the same time, the idea that Karl could ever look like a man is laughable. Vicky, Cindy, and even George and Tank indulged Karl by not making him feel awkward about his appearance, voice, and deportment, but the truth is that anyone meeting Karl for the first time would never see him as a man, well unless they noticed a particular part of his anatomy.
Vicky lets Karl finish and then in her most soothing tone says, it will be okay, Karl. You know that Cindy, George, and I will support you. We love you and want you to be comfortable, to be happy. With your permission, I will let the Frankels know that you might look different today so it will not be a shock when you arrive. At first, Karl does not really know what he wants Vicky to do; he really just wanted a friendly and sympathetic female voice to hear him out. Now, though, he thinks he should agree and let her tell everyone what is going on.
I will be there by seven thirty am. Why do not you come in about eight am? she continues. That will give me some time to get things settled before you arrive. Adding as an afterthought, I assume you saw George's email.
Karl had forgotten about it, actually, but that realization releases another string of tears. Yeah, I will be there, he says softly. Thank you, Vicky. You are a great friend.
No problem, Karl. I love having you as a friend. I will see you shortly and remember, it will be okay. Karl hangs up without another word, turns toward the bathroom, and sweeps away the falling tears with the end of the towel. When did I get so damned emotional?