Annie CLXV: Fifi va bien!





(Chronological index: Ray a College junior, After Bottled)

Annie CLXV: Fifi va bien!

(Chronological index: Ray a College junior, After Bottled)

I dreamed of a volcano, of being on the slope of a volcano. It was erupting, great gouts of smoke and ash bellowing out of the top in percussive bursts. Rivers of lava flowed along to either side, trapping me on a small, bony island.

I woke up in the hollow of Ray's throat, his hand cupped over me.

Between the heat from his body and the snores from his nose, I had no problem figuring out my dream. He clavicle was the bony island.

I wriggled out between his fingers and crept to his shoulder. From there, I could hop to his pillow, the mattress, then jump to the desk.

My clothes lay where Ray had dropped them the night before. I swept them up on the way to my cage, dropping them in the laundry carton.

I couldn't dress for the day until after the morning shower. I put the kimono on for now, then dozed in my hammock, trying to ignore the slightly sticky feeling here and there on my skin.

As always, it was more than a little frustrating, having to wait on Master's convenience for yet another basic necessity.

On the other hand, he really did enjoy being able to wash me. It was entirely for his benefit that I put up with the attention, you see. Being the center of his world, if only for a few minutes before he went to class or on a date… I was a talisman, of sorts, a touchstone that centered Master Ray.

I lay there and considered the profile of my sleeping master.

He'd taken it hard, breaking up with Deliah. The depression that followed was a standard phase of the Ray Reaction to Rejection Ritual, but this had lasted much longer than usual.

The current phase, Master Focuses On Annie, seemed to be at the normal pace, but with extra passion.

So it seemed likely that the next phase, Ray – The Man Who Walks Alone, would either be doubly long or ridiculously short.

I was betting on short. Because he had to finish his period of stoicism before going on the prowl for another love interest. And after all that depression, he had to be starving for contact with a woman 'of his own order.'

Nothing that could compete with me on a pound for pound basis, but the poor man also needed a loving touch that could reach both shoulders at the same time.

Poor slob.

I sighed theatrically and lay back, waiting for wakefulness to arrive.

-----

Some time later, the snoring stopped. His eyes flickered. Then he stretched a little bit, catching himself a moment later. I have him well trained to ease into the day. Not for any benefits of serenity, but so he doesn't crush me when he rolls over.

There have been a few close calls. And a lot more screaming from nowhere-near calls. Now I banged the door to my birdcage and shouted, "All clear, Master!"

"Thanks," he grumbled, and rolled to sit, then thrust himself to his feet. I watched closely. He readied his shaving kit before he came over to see to my needs.

So. We've started the self-centered portion of our ritual. Right on schedule.

Well, that's as may be a little unfair. He's not exactly self-centered. Or selfish. It's more, promoting himself first, all others get in line behind him.

He didn't forget me. Once HE was ready for his shower, he reached over to pick me up.

When we got back to the room, I dressed for a day like any other weekend. Shorts and t-shirt. I assumed a lot of time would be spent in his pocket, wandering electronic stores (or Ray's Porn Emporiums).

Then I climbed into the carrier to wait.

He put the carrier on the cafeteria table, to claim it, before collecting breakfast. I was a familiar sight and traded waves with students I knew.

I was also looking for redheads. Ray has a thing for redheads, for some reason. A good ginger would be just the thing to drag him out of this phase of the ritual. Two, three days from now, the Man Who Walks Alone would be swearing fealty at the knees of some bimbo so that he could-

Two trays were set down on the table, one to each side of the carrier. I looked to see that Ray was to my right.

To my left was a girl. A redhead.

"Holy crap, that was fast!" I shouted in surprise.

"It's a buffet," loving Master replied, completely misunderstanding me. "I didn't order anything from the omelet bar."

"Yeah, I guess," I said, still staring at the guest.

Then I recognized her. She was… Um… I forgot her name. I know she owned a parrot named Polly. And she had been punk, once. Now she was a little more natural looking. Except the red of her hair was kind of a metallic red.

"Hi!" I said. "How's Polly?"

"Great," the girl replied. "Everyone is impressed with her. So much, when she meets new people, Polly says," and here she changed to a credible imitation of the bird. "Awk! Who taught her that? And then she answers it and says Annie!"

"My immortality is assured," I said. Totally worth it.

"So, what brings a girl like you to the company of an engineer like glorious Master?" I asked. I was delaying. I couldn't just ask her name, now that I'd remembered Polly's and she'd remembered mine…

Master saved me. "Jenny," he said, "has a project and she could use your help."

"Oh?" I asked.

Ray slid a tiny helping of bacon out to where I stood. I munched that while Jenny described her idea.

"I'm supposed to illustrate AND mock a media cliché. And I drew 'French Maid' out of the hat."

"Isn't that a cliché?" Ray asked. "Drawing things out of a hat?"

"Ignore him," I told her. I held up a finger in a 'wait one' gesture and turned around. "You're here to provide the introduction and the bacon, Master. Not to try to advance the conversation down side paths and trap doors."

"Oh, my mistake," he nodded, then concentrated on his food.

I turned back and invited Jenny to continue.

"I wanted to make a maid costume to mock the ones on TV, and I when I saw Ray, I realized that I could make a mockery of the mockery!"

"Uh huh," I said slowly.

"Well, you can't really perform a maid's duties, right? You're too small to make a bed, or serve breakfast or hump laundry from the washer to the dryer."

"Right, right."

"So, if anyone's appointing a sylph as their maid, it could ONLY be for the implied sexual nature of the cliché."

"Good point," Ray said, just to remind us both that he was within hearing. Of course, he'd snorted in amusement at the word 'hump,' so we continued to ignore him.

"And the typical TV or movie Maid costume is just ludicrous for performing any actual work, so I thought I'd make one that made it clear. To not even imply sex, but to just display it."

"And I'd be the one on display?" I asked.

"Um, yeah," she said, suddenly worried I might be offended. "But only if you're okay with the final result!" she added quickly. If not, I can maybe use your help in making the design, then display it on a sylph-sized doll."

I knew exactly how Ray would respond to that and mouthed 'action figure' at the same time he made that protest.

Jenny giggled at my little display.

I shrugged. "I've been naked for more than half the time I've been a sylph," I said. "These days mostly for government policies, though it used to be just for a small boy's attempts at control."

Ray sat very, very quietly at that comment, either from guilt or fear of being made to feel guilty. As he should.

"But," I went on, "being naked or sexually objectified for the advancement of social awareness, that'd be well within my mandate."

"What?" Jenny asked.

"She said yes," Ray said.

"First," Jenny said, "we need something like a body stocking for little Annie, here."

Ray pounded down the last of his juice and started to bus his side of the table. "Sounds like girl stuff," he said. "You all set, Annie?"

"Yes," I said, waving my piece of bacon. He nodded and departed. I turned back to a stunned-looking Jenny. Ray's departure had been abrupt, even for a just-past-teenaged boy. "Don't take it personally," I said. "He's in post-breakup mode. Being the rugged individual with no ties and no baggage."

"Oh, yeah, I heard about Deliah," she nodded.

"Yeah, probably another day or two of this, then he starts wanting the company of his betters, again."

"By betters," Jenny asked, "you mean women, right?"

"Right." I wiped my brow theatrically. "So, instead of listening to him talk RAM and processor speeds with salesmen, I get to hang out with you at a sylph boutique."

"You do, don't you?" she smiled. And held out her hand.

-----

She brought me and our loot back to her dorm room. Polly was quite excited to see her return. "Squawk! It's Boobs Magee! Give us a kiss, darling!"

Jenny blew the bird a kiss and put me down by the cage. I wrestled a saltine out of a box and presented it to the cage. Polly gave a wolf whistle and said, "It's Annie Of Course! Annie Of Course!" Then she daintily took the cracker and started to eat it.

"She remembers you!" Jenny said with surprise.

"Well, Polly's a class act," I replied. "Now, to the project!"

I undressed and got two more whistles from the bird. Then I stood, hands over my head, waiting. Jenny unwrapped the body stocking while I did and handed it to me.

I stared at it for a second. "OH!" I said when the penny dropped. "You want me to put it on." I took it down and started to slip it on.

"That… Was the general idea," she confused.

"Sorry," I said, slipping the mesh material up my legs and over my hips. "It's just, when Ray buys me new clothes, he likes to play dress-up." She fished some material out while I slid my arms into the sleeves and adjusted the folds.

"Okay, first thing we need is a skirt," she said, pulling out black and white ribbons.

I stood still while she tried a couple different places for the skit. The skirt was black, the white ribbon pretended to be a petticoat. She folded them around her thumb, quickly sewing the pleated result. I stared at the needle as it flew.

"Exactly how are you going to sew that in place at the end?" I asked. There were stories about sylphs that got…perforated by decorations.

"Nothing to worry about," she assured me. When she finished the skirt, she held it in place, deciding on a final position.

She put the skirt down and marked around my waist with a marking pen. "I'll rubber cement it in place later. Without you."

"Is that cheating?"

"If I was making a dress for production, yes," she nodded. The fumes from the marker were sharp in my nose as she dragged the tip across my belly. I turned around so she could get the back, too.

Smaller bits of ribbon, used much the same way, created the illusion of cuffs at my wrists. A little dot of gold fabric paint pretended to be a cufflink on each.

Then she stood me atop a stack of books and stared at my boobs. "Now, how to accent those?" she mused…

"You know," I said, "I read somewhere that in the Revolutionary War, it was a style for women to bare their breasts and rouge their nipples."

"Bare?" she asked. Cool, I managed to shock a punk. "You'd… You'd be willing to stand in the front of my class, bare-breasted?"

"For the rest of my life, I'll be able to say, 'I only did one, and it was for college.'" We laughed. True, it was someone ELSE'S grade, but it still worked.

"So, what, make a sort of bra out of the ribbons?" she asked after a moment.

"Not to brag, but," I said, then tugged the body stocking down to my waist. My not-quite-magnificent (but let's be honest, perfect) mammaries stuck out, firm and proud. "I don't think I need that much support?"

"No, I guess not," she agreed.

So, she got a teensy pair of scissors and cut scoops out of the top of the stocking and arranged the white ribbon. It was more of a highlight than support, underlining the boobs in one straight line, then rising up the sides, to end as a strap around my neck.

A pair of white accents on my black plastic shoes turned them into maid-uniform accessories, and we were almost done.

"Wait, do I need a hat?" I asked.

"Maybe a cap?" Jenny mused. We ended up with a circle of black, trimmed with the white. Looked like a lacy yarmulke to me, but she was satisfied with it.

I posed in front of the mirror. "I like the effect," I said.

"But you need something to do with your hands," she nodded. "Like a platter, or a feather duster. What sort of feather would a sylph dust with, though?"

"Awk!" Polly announced. "Give us a kiss, and this time put some tongue in it!"

"Okay, that makes it obvious," I said.

"She's always been timely," Jenny laughed, slipping a couple of raisins between the bars.

We ended up with the shaft of a Tootsie Pop, cut down to resemble a relay baton in my hand. A baton, or the handle of a duster.

Crazy-glued to the baton was one, just one of Polly's blue feathers. The thing was as long as my arm.

I stood on tiptoe, leaning forward, ass thrust out, pretending to dust the top of the clock radio… Jenny laughed and clapped.

"Don't forget to purse your lips," she said. I did, blinking coquettishly up at her.

By then, it was time to meet Master in the cafeteria for dinner. I turned towards to remove the costume, one foot slipping across the polished desk surface on a bit of left-over fabric.

I fell face-first onto the desk, but caught myself easily enough.

"Annie! Annie, are you okay?" Jenny asked.

"Fifi va bien!" I assured her, in my most mocking of French accents. I stood and much more carefully negotiated the desk to the changing room: a cigar box Jenny was going to use to store her project.

-----

Master at least appeared to listen raptly to Jenny's description of my maid costume. I know his interest spiked when she explained that the stocking was see-through, and peaked when she described the boob window.

Silly male. Ray literally OWNED my boobs and could see them whenever he wanted. On demand, or even on a subtle suggestion (not that he'd been all that subtle at any point since puberty). Hell, he could TOUCH them without having to ask permission.

But the verbal reminder that I had them, and a promise to show them? He regressed fully to the day he read through his first pilfered Playboy issue.

He asked if he could sit in on the class when I was presented.

"Oh, we're doing it in Malcolm Hall," Jenny replied. "All of Mrs. Cote's classes are presenting at the same time, so everyone gets to vote. You can just come on in, sit close to the stage."

"Wait, what?" I asked. "How many people are going to be looking on when we do this?" I was prepared to be mostly naked on a podium in front of one class, not a crowd.

"I dunno," she shrugged. "About sixty?"

"All of whom," Master assured me, "will be jealous, either of your good looks, or of me for having access to those looks."

"They will, won't they?" I mused. That's the best part of being with Ray, sometimes. He always knows what to say. Okay, sure. Bring on the crowds. And the cameras, I assumed.

"Hey," I said as a thought occurred, "maybe Maid-Annie could become as famous in design circles as Raven-Annie is among Sylph Rescue activists?"

"Raven Annie?" Jenny asked.

"You didn't hear about our one night at Sylph Rescue?" Ray asked. He smiled, but had no interest in seducing Jenny.

I know because he allowed me to regale her with the story. Gun to my head, I have to admit that Ray is better at crafting anecdotes than I am. At least, they sound good.

I, of course, excel in the accuracy of my presentation of the facts.

"Well, one day, Ray leaped to a TOTALLY unjustified conclusion about his completely innocent pet. It seems that his name had been submitted as a volunteer for a Sylph Rescue membership drive, and NOT by me."

Ray snorted as I listed all the reasons it could not have been my evil deed. Jenny ate her dinner, but all her attention was on me.

As it should be.

-----

Back in the room, Ray wanted to talk about the maid costume more. "You'll see on Saturday!" I told him.

"Just… What did it look like?" he asked again.

I stood on his desk, hands a-hips, staring up at him for a moment. "Okay, FINE!" I went into my cage and found a black scarf. Back on the blotter, I stripped. Not seductively, just efficiently. Clothes tossed to the side.

Naked, holding only the scarf, I turned around quickly. "Okay, see this?"

"Yes," he said slowly. He spoke slowly, though his breath was speeding up.

I tied the scarf around my hips, just barely covering the vajayjay. "Okay, this is covered." I waved to rest of my body. "This is darker. Like through sunglasses."

"OH!" He ran to his jacked and grabbed his shades. "Niiiiiice," he complimented.

"Except these!" I pointed out, hands cupping my breasts.

"Ah," he sighed. He lifted the glasses, blinked as if taking a picture, then lowered the glasses again. "I see, now."

"I believe you can," I told him. I wouldn't be surprised if, in his head, he had used Paintbrush software to crop and superimpose the image.

I didn't ask, though. He'd either be insulted or complimented by the idea, and I didn't need him that smug for the rest of the night.

Luckily, he just accepted my belief in him and didn't try to explain the steps involved.

Rather, he reached out with one finger and stroked my scarf. I leaned into it as he removed his glasses and licked his lips.

"Yessssssssssssssss?" I asked. "Iz zere zomesing Maszer wan' Fifi to doo fer heem?"

"Your Spanish accent is really horrible," he said.

"It's FRENCH, moron! As in, Fifi, the stereotypical French Hollywood maid!" I shouted. But he was still stroking, so I turned to let him reach my back.

The scarf was only tied in place by a half-hitch and, oops, fell apart when his finger brushed the knot.

Naked again, under Master's scrutiny, I felt a rush of emotions coming across my bond with the big lug. "Oh, no, Master! I'm all nekkid again!"

"Darn," he murmured. His fingers pushed harder on my back. It was difficult to keep standing. Then his other hand stretched out before me, a big, pink mattress. I stopped even trying to stand and he pushed me across his palm.

I closed my eyes, the better to feel his attentions. His fingers outlining my skeleton, the heat radiating from his hand, warm and humid breath flowing over the parts of me not blocked by his touch.

"Oooooooh, Master," I cooed. "Fifi va tres, tres bien."

The massage stopped and his hand lifted away. But canny Annie did not panic, no. I waited, eyes still closed, feeling myself being raised. And the tongue touched at the back of my knees, then trailed up, over thighs, and ass, up and up along my spine.

"Ooooooh," was all I could manage. I'd be paying for this later, of course. Fifi would have to polish… something…

-----

On Saturday, we met Jenny outside the front doors of Malcolm Hall. Ray had the carrier and she had the cigar box.

I was dressed, but only in baggy running clothes.

We filed in and they found seats. It was a fairly big auditorium, and it was filling up quickly. "Popular class," Ray said. He held the carrier on his lap and the costume was slid in for me.

"Let me see!" I asked, once the door was shut again. I stripped as Ray held my box up like the Statue of Liberty's ice cream cone.

I looked out the window as he turned the box back and forth. There was a table upon the stage, way, way far away. This was good. No one but the judges up on the stage would actually be able to see me.

They started to presentations, calling students up by prearranged groups of five.

The first student wheeled a bed onto the stage, demonstrating the shape of sheets on a bed when a couple has had sex (the man is covered to the waist, while the woman's side goes up over the boobs). He came up with a parallelogram, with human bodies embroidered on it. Man here, woman there, boobies go here, that sort of thing.

The crowd of students loved it. Master questioned, "Was that really mockery, though, or was he explaining it?"

"Shut up, Ray," Jenny said. Good girl.

The next guy was mocking mad scientists. He arranged a lab on the stage and gave a super-villain motivation-speech, but pausing to insert footnotes for his references. He also framed it as a research proposal, listing the hypothesis he was demonstrating, the results he expected, and what variations might mean to his theory.

The third student had a car. Or a model car. It explained how Detroit makes villain cars that explode on impact. We couldn't see it from where we sat.

So they wheeled out a big camera and displayed a close-up view on the stage's movie screen.

"Oh, shit," I muttered.

"Not looking forward to the audience?" Ray asked softly.

I pointed to the car on the screen. They zoomed in on the rear bumper as he pointed out the quantity of dynamite packed in there.

"My boobs are going to be bigger than your desk!" I hissed.

"Look under your sofa," he whispered back.

'Sofa' is a grand term for the bench at the back of the carrier, with a piece of foam rubber-cemented in place. I knelt to find a tiny bit of paper taped to the bottom of the shelf.

That was a rough envelope, inside was a domino mask, black to match the maid ribbons.

I put it on and leaned out the window. "Jenny, is this okay?"

"It's perfect!" she enthused softly.

At our turn, I stepped down from Jenny's hand and posed for the camera. Between the mask and the costume, I was probably unidentifiable.

Like that old joke, a woman steps out of the shower in an all-girls dorm and walks back to her room. She only has a hand towel when someone shouts 'Man on the floor!'

She has only an instant to decide, cover her crotch or cover her breasts. Then she decided to put the towel over her face.

It was kind of freeing, really. I mean, I wasn't THAT upset about being naked, but this was a little different. My sexuality, the perfect boobs, were highlighted intentionally.

But with the mask in place, it was Fifi's boobs. I posed, strutted, bent and kicked up one leg as I reached and dusted and swept.

Jenny described the elements of the costume and their significance while I did. I tried very hard NOT to turn around and look at the screen. That'd be me, big as King Kong, flaunting across the wall.

Then Ray experienced a spike of concern. I glanced to see if Jenny had tripped or if anyone was about to spill something onto my table.

I later learned that someone near Ray had started to wonder aloud, "When did Jenny get a sylph? That's not Polly!"

And someone near them replied, "I think I saw that guy, Annie's owner, on the front steps."

Brief pause as we reflect on the fact that 1) I'm famous on campus and 2) I'm more famous than Ray on campus. And I'm not even registered here!

Anyway, they started looking closely at my hair and what features they could detect.

Ray was sliding down in his seat, according to him, as someone started chanting: "ANNIE! ANNIE!"

The whole row took it up, then the seating section, then quite a few of the rest of the audience.

It was kind of humiliating. For a second I thought Ray had started it. But that wouldn't make any sense. He wouldn't give me the mask and then point out my identity.

Plus, he would die for such a betrayal. More importantly, he KNEW I'd kill him for doing this.

I fear that I blushed. I know I froze. I didn't turn my back on the camera but I dis stop posing.

Jenny, a trooper, her voice faltered a bit, but she kept on going with her presentation.

Then, finally, it was over. She picked me up and scurried off the stage. Rather than go back to her seat, she went through the stage door and out into the parking lot behind the Hall.

Ray caught up with us at Jenny's room about two hours later.

I was back in my baggy sweats, feeding sunflower seeds to Polly. Jenny sat quietly watching. She'd stopped apologizing a while back.

She got up to let Ray into the room. I refused to turn around. "Took you long enough to find us," I said.

"I stayed for the results," he explained. He had scribbled the final standings on one of the 3x5's he always carries.

"Second?" Jenny either enthused or outraged.

I outraged. "I was clearly the most popular exhibit on display!" I groused. "Who the hell took first?"

"Someone got naked people on stage to show what post-coital sex looks like with real sheets," Ray said. "They're probably suspended, but they took first place."

"Oh," Jenny nodded. She allowed that coming in second after actual human nudity was probably not a bad thing.

Ray offered to take everyone out to celebrate and asked Jenny where she wanted to dine.

"Oh, I couldn't have done it without Annie," she said. "Where do you want to go, Annie?"

I passed another seed through the bars. "I, uh, I really don't want to be seen in public for the next month, if you don't mind?"

"Pizza?" Jenny asked.

"There's a Greek place that does amazing calzones," Ray promised, standing up. "I'll be back in about half an hour."

"Can you swing by the room and get my blanket?" I called.

"Are you cold?" Jenny asked.

"No, I only have two layers on, I need… More." Note that I didn't say 'seventeen,' which I was thinking, but would have sounded pitiful. I just left it up to Master to fix.

Jenny found a washcloth and wrapped me up like in a comforter as Ray headed out.



Back to the Index