Panties for Sale (13 page)

Alex increased her speed to 10. She wiped the sweat with
the back of her sleeve and tried to breathe through the cramps. Sounding like a
woman preparing for labour, she forced herself to sprint through the last
minute of her 40 minute jog.
 
It was the
fourth morning in a row she had managed to drag herself to the gym and her legs
were starting to feel the pain. But it was worth it.
 
So worth it.
 
At 20 minutes into her workout, endorphins kicked in and she soared into
positive nirvana. And with 600 calories burnt, she could justify indulging in
her chocolate cravings.
 

Jumping off the treadmill, Alex looked around.
 
She marveled at the emptiness of the gym as
she headed into the change room.
 
Such a contrast
from the jam-packed after work chaos she was used to.
 
It was so nice in the mornings.
 
She didn’t have to wake up to an early alarm
but could take her time, watch TV while she had her morning Metamucil and then
meander over to the gym.
  
She was actually
making more money now then she did when she had a full time office job.
  
Her appointments were all usually in the mid
afternoon or early evening and, if she really wanted to, she could take any
given day off.
 
She figured if she only
got paid the bare minimum of $300 per appointment and worked only 3
appointments a week; 3 hours a week; that was about as much as she used to make
for 40 hours data processing at the TD Bank.
 
And this was tax free.
 

And, it’s not like it was difficult work. Once she got over
her pre appointment jitters. All her clients had been super nice so far. And
she was getting more comfortable with what they expected.
 
Really, how could she not be comfortable with
polite older men who only wanted a blow job?
 

Alex stopped in front of the change room mirror and seeing
no one around, dropped her towel.
 
As she
looked at her naked body, Alex tried to think like a man.
 
Would he like what he saw?
 
Her breasts were very large but not
saggy.
 
They looked very white against
the fading tan on her stomach, like two over ripe melons with large pink
nipples.
 
She squeezed her stomach
muscles in and noticed a slight definition. As she pushed her shoulder blades
back, she turned sideways, making her breasts look perkier.

She remembered the poses Angela had made her do at the
photo shoot, “Lean forward,” Angela had instructed.
 
“Squeeze your arms together. Yes, like that
under your breast.
 
Now spread your legs,
bend your knees.
 
Good. Hold your stomach
in. Squeeze.
 
Stick out your chin. Arch
your back.
 
Darlin’, point your
toes.
 
Yes. Just like that.
 
Now hold.”

Alex laughed at her reflection in the mirror. Who did
Angela think she fooling with those pictures?
 
They looked nothing like her real body from real life.
 
Wouldn’t the men notice the difference at
first glance?
  
And how uncomfortable was
that day?
 
Having to stand and pose
sticking her tits and ass out, pretending to be sexy in a bra and thong while a
woman she had known for less than 2 hours snapped photos of her to post on some
website so umpteen unknown men could view her and order her like some x-rated
home delivery catalogue?

“No stand up straighter, hon.
 
Look up!” Angela had snapped another shot
then came out from behind the camera to where Alex was leaning against the bed,
perched on the edge of a stool.
 
“Put
your hand here,” Angela had said moving Alex’s hand over to the edge of her
waist.
 
“We have to see where you end.
 
And point your toes!” Alex had took another
breath in and held it, tightening her stomach muscles, pointing her toes and
looking up at the ceiling.
 
“Wait a
minute, just lean forward a bit.”
 
She
had grabbed Alex around the hips and pushed her into the right position.
 
“Excuse my hands, but we have to emphasize
these, darling.” Alex couldn’t believe that Angela had reached right inside her
bra and pulled up her breasts, squeezing them together so they overflowed over
the lacy edge of the bra.

“At least, when I lean over like this, you can almost see
the outline of my ribs,” Alex had tried to make light of the uncomfortable
situation, even though she was beginning to shake from holding the pose.

Angela shook her head from behind the camera. “I know girls
who would love to have your body, don’t you worry.
 
And,” she winked, “lots of guys that will pay
just to see it naked.”

Angela had been right.
 
Too bad she didn’t clarify that they were old guys.
 
Like her last client: Dale Sprague.
 
He was 54.
 
And delighted with how young and beautiful she was.
 
Actually, she couldn’t complain.
 
The appointment had gone really well.
 
All he wanted to do was to touch her.
 
She only had to lay down naked beside him
while he caressed her, all of her, sucking on her nipples for most of the hour.
 
She didn’t even have to touch him.
 
He touched himself.
 

Alex picked up her towel and began to wrap it around
herself when she paused, looking down at her new Brazilian wax.
  
Her vagina was completely bald.
 
She just couldn’t get used to it.
 
She had liked how it looked all covered with
curly strawberry blonde hair.
 
So grown
up and womanly.
 
Now it looked like it
did when she was a little girl.
 
Is that
really what men wanted?
 
Did that mean
that men wanted to pretend they were screwing little girls?
 

Reluctantly, Alex had gotten it done because Angela had
told her to.
 
Most clients requested it
that way.
 
And it just made sense as it
was cleaner.
 
The pain was excruciating
though.
 
It was only afterwards, after
the swelling went down and the bleeding stopped, that Alex noticed it.
 
In her jeans.
 
In the grocery store.
 
Anytime.
  
Wearing no underwear took on a whole new
dimension for Alex.
 
And Angela was
right.
 
Her clients got so excited when
she took off her panties.
 
Some just
liked to look at it, touch it or lick the smooth hairless skin.
 

What was that?
 
Alex
cocked her head to listen, then wrapped the towel around her and rushed back to
her locker.
 
“Hello?”

“Elixia Gold Stewart!
 
Are you ok?”

“Oh, hello mom,” Alex cringed and fought back the urge to
end the call.
 
She hated it when her
mother called her by her full name.
 
She hated
that name.
 
Her parents had been
‘hippies’ in the 70’s or more accurate, hippie wannabes from Canada.
 
They didn’t go to Woodstock, they went to
Niagara Falls.
 
They didn’t do drugs or
practice free love or anything crazy like that.
 
They did drink beer.
 
And they had
tried to make their own.
 
And they baked
their own bread, rode their bicycles instead of cars, wore Birkenstocks and
stole corn from farmer’s fields along highway 400.
 
Oh and they dressed their kids in funny
home-made clothes.
 
To match their funny
home-made names of course.
 
Alex’s sister
had gotten Mariposa Tia.
 
That wasn’t too
bad.
 
Everyone called her Mary.
 
And no one knew that Tia stood for
togetherness.
 
But Alex was stuck with
Elixia.
 
Is that even a word?
 
Elixia Gold.
 
Alex’s mother had made up the name when she and Alex’s father had joined
their first weird anti-institution group; the Rosicrucian Society.
 
Way before The DaVinci Code hit book stands,
Alex’s parents had been on the trail to uncover all the hidden knowledge, forbidden
to man, stolen and secreted away by the Catholic church.
 
They were ‘light workers’ now, they said, not
hippies.

“It’s common to have unique names in times like this,
dear.
 
Remember River Pheonix?
 
And what about Gwyenth Paltrow’s baby Apple?
But just remember your name is special.
 
It is a message to the Universe.
 
It is a reminder to us.”
 
Alex’s
mother sipped on her dandelion tea as she lounged in her easy chair in her
library/yoga/sun room.
 
The room was
originally meant as a sun room, with large bay windows on all sides and a sun
roof overlooking the cool blue waters of Lake Couchiching.
 
But her parents had remodeled it, covering
the walls with floor to ceiling bookshelves, now overflowing with their New Age
books, and clearing the room of any furniture except for her mother’s easy
chair and their collection of South American rugs, native woven blankets from
the Rama Moccasin shop and yoga mats.
  

Her mother pulled out a dog eared copy of Laurence
Gardner’s ‘Bloodline of the Holy Grail’ from the shelf and passed it to
Alex.
  
“Do you remember the myth about
King Solomon and how powerful he was?
 
Well, it was not a myth.
 
He was
powerful.
 
And old.
 
He lived for hundreds of year.
 
Do you know how?
 
He used to burn gold down to a powder and eat
it?
  
Isn’t that fascinating?
 
That was his secret.
 
That’s why he was so powerful.
 
And did you know, that’s what they were
doing, up there on Mount Sinai.
 
You know in the Bible when they talk about
the mountain smoking, being full of fire and brimstone.
 
They said it was God talking from the
sky.
 
Do you know the real story?
 
It wasn’t God.
 
It was a massive fire on top of the mountain
to melt gold.
 
For King Solomon.
 
For all the world leaders of that time.
 
For the ‘Gods’.
  
It’s true, I just know it.

Oh Elixa, there are so many secrets out there.
 
Just in front of our eyes.
  
We just need to see clearly.
 
That’s what Dracula did, too.
 
You know, Count Dracula, from Transylvania?
Another myth, they say.
 
But, he too was
real.
 
They made up the story of his
being a vampire, to scare people away from learning the truth.
 
He was eating gold.
 
Melted down powered gold.
 
The gold made him powerful.
 
Stronger and smarter than a normal man.
 
But gold also made his skin more sensitive to
the sun. So he slept during the day, and stayed awake at night. Did you know
that he lived for hundreds of years?
 
Yes, it’s true.
 

We were going to go to Turkey, you know?
 
Your father had found out that there was a
special club of Alchemists there.
 
Practicing Alchemists.
 
They
practiced all the lost secrets.
 
Even how
to change metal into gold.
 
Some say they
still do it, you know burning gold in their kilns, down to a powder, and then
eating it.
 
Oh, it’s all so hush hush,
but imagine the magic in those small courtyards.
 
Imagine the secrets that city knows.
 

There are so many things going on in this world.
  
But then, you my darling, you were born,
Elixia.
 
And we stayed here, in
Orillia.
 
We didn’t have to go searching
for our magical potion.
 
Well, we
couldn’t.
 
Not with two young
children.
 
How could we afford it?
  
But, no, it’s alright.
 
We were happy to stay here.
 
We had our own burning gold, right here.
 
You, with your gorgeous golden hair.
 
You are our immortality.
 
You and your sister.
 
That’s why we called you Elixia.
 
To remind us.”

“No mom, I’m fine,” Alex wasn’t in the mood to talk with
her mother.
 
She was hoping for a call
from Angela.
 
Maybe a booking for
Joseph.
 
She hadn’t seen Joseph in two
weeks.