Like Son, Like Father
Part Fourteen
As dreams so often do, Timothy's dream shifted to another scene.
Timothy now found
himself inside Linda's handbag as Mrs. Grayson drove Linda and her friend,
Marcy,
over to Heatherby's, a posh department store at the Mall. Like nearly all
department stores, Heatherby's specialized in ladies' apparel. A token
men's wear
department perpetually immersed in gloom was rumoured to exist in some remote
corner
of the store. Like the children's wear department, it was easy to miss.
In any
case, Mrs. Grayson had no interest in men's wear. She was shopping for an
evening
gown that Linda could wear to her graduation ball.
Inside Linda's handbag, Timothy made himself as comfortable as possible.
Her
handbag contained a compact, lipstick and, among other things, a pack of
cigarettes
and a lighter. As Timothy tried to reposition himself inside the bag, his
foot
touched something buttery soft. Feeling around in the dark, he realized
that Linda
had another pair of leather gloves inside her handbag. Groping around
still more,
he found the opening of one glove and slipped his cold, naked body feet first
into
the plush, velvety unlined interior. His tiny legs and feet fit nearly
perfectly
into the middle and index glove fingers. He almost swooned from the
velvety
sensation of the 'crotch' between the glove fingers rubbing against his balls
and
penis. His pecker hardened into steel.
Again, his dream shifted forward in time. Timothy realized that the ladies
had been
in Heatherby's awhile and that Linda and her Mom had already agreed upon an
evening
gown for the ball. As the ladies walked down an aisle toward Gloves and
Accessories, Timothy heard Mrs. Grayson say, "Now we just have to find you some
white kidskin opera gloves to go with that beautiful midnight-blue gown."
As they walked over to the glove counter, a short bald man came zipping
breathlessly
around a corner to assist them. Linda set her handbag on the counter and
opened it
a little so that her teensy-tyke could enjoy some fresh air. Looking out,
Timothy
saw several pairs of leather gloves spread out on the glass counter. Many
more
pairs lay below him in the glass-paned display case.
Timothy sensed that Linda was trying to act very grown-up and suppress her
obvious
excitement - excitement that Mrs. Grayson understood fully. Although Linda
owned
many pairs of leather gloves, this was to be her very first pair of full-length
kidskin opera gloves. Linda's thoughts raced back to a time about four
years ago
when she had first worked her fingers into a pair of leather fashion gloves.
Never
had she felt so grown up. Now the same thrilling sense - a sense of coming
of age,
of entering the sophisticated adult world was returning to her.
Obviously familiar with the sales clerk, Mrs. Grayson said, "Good morning,
Herbert.
My daughter Linda would like to try on some white kidskin opera gloves to wear
to
her graduation ball. She takes a size 6½."
"Mother," interrupted Linda, "must they be white?"
"Why, of course!" said Mrs. Grayson. "What else? It's a formal
ball!"
A bit anxiously, Linda said, "Well, isn't black equally suitable for formal
occasions?"
Mrs. Grayson gazed in stunned disbelief at her daughter for a moment and then
said,
"Young lady, you are absolutely not going to wear black kidskin opera gloves to
a
graduation ball!"
"But Mom, why not?" implored Linda. "Other girls have, I'm sure!"
"Full-length black leather gloves are simply not what a young lady wears to a
graduation ball!" exclaimed Mrs. Grayson. "Do you have any idea of the
effect that
a pair of black kids would have on the young man who's taking you? He's
going to
have a hard enough time just dealing with the fact that you're gloved in white!"
"Oh, Mom!" pleaded Linda. "Joey can deal with it! He's not a boy any
longer. He's
a young man, now."
"That's exactly what worries me, young lady!"
"Mom, when are you going to start trusting me? You've never trusted me.
How much
older do I have to be before you realize that I'm a woman, now? I can
handle Joey,
Mom!"
"I know you can, but you're not going to handle him with black kid gloves, young
lady!"
"Mom!" implored Linda. "You treat me like I'm still a baby! Why
can't you ever
just give me a chance to prove myself?"
Shaking her head, Mrs. Grayson looked at the salesclerk. "What do you
think,
Herbert?" she asked.
Before he answered, Mrs. Grayson heard something thump the back of the display
case
with a dull thud. The salesclerk's face was flushed. His hands were
fidgeting
nervously on top of the display case.
Herbert replied, "Well, it's not entirely unheard of, Mrs. Grayson. You
know,
they're just two different colors - that's all."
Placing her hand sheathed in its buttery soft, skintight black kidskin leather
glove
on top of the salesclerk's, Mrs. Grayson said, "So, Herbert, if you were a young
man
accompanying a young lady to a graduation ball, and she was gloved in black kid,
wouldn't you find that - well - disturbing?"
"Oh, I hardly think so," laughed the salesclerk nervously. Beads of
perspiration
seemed to be popping out of his forehead. "After all," he said, "they're
really
nothing more than coverings for the young lady's hands."
Again, Mrs. Grayson heard something thump against the back of the case.
"Oh, all right, then," sighed Mrs. Grayson. "Show us a pair of full-length
black
kids in a size 6½, please."
With a squeal of delight, Linda hugged her mother and began, as quickly as she
could, to remove her brown capeskin gloves and leather jacket. Her friend,
Marcy,
looked almost green with envy.
The salesclerk slid a wood panel door at the back of the case to one side.
With
hands that were visibly trembling, he removed a pair of softly gleaming black
kidskin opera gloves from the case.
"These are Italian-made from the most supple leather from the hides of little
kid
goats," said the salesclerk.
Linda inserted her right hand into the opening of the right glove. The nap
inside
the unlined glove was so velvety-plush that it felt like heaven on her arm.
It took
Linda several minutes, but eventually she reached the point where she was able
to
start working the glove onto her hand and fingers. Linda felt very
self-conscious
from the sinful pleasure she was experiencing as she worked the glove down
between
each of her fingers. When she had finished smoothing the glove to a
perfect fit and
buttoning it at the wrist, she held out her hand and arm. The beautiful
black
leather sheathing her fingers, hand and arm gleamed softly under the overhead
store
track lighting. Linda felt as if she could make a male do just about
whatever she
wanted him to do. She pulled Timothy out of her handbag and held him in
her
gleaming black kidskin-sheathed hand.
"How do you like them, little man?" teased Linda. "How do you like my new
glovey-wov-eees? Look, Marcy! I think he likes them - A LOT!"
"Linda, put that thing back in your handbag this instant!" said Mrs. Grayson.
Linda quickly stuffed her teensy-tyke back in her handbag while Mrs. Grayson
used
her husband's credit card to purchase Linda's new black kidskin opera gloves.
When the three ladies reached their car in the Mall parking lot, Marcy suddenly
realized that she had left her little teensy-tyke stuffed in her handbag for
nearly
two hours without air. Once she and Linda were seated in the back of the
car, Marcy
quickly opened her bag and pulled out Wilbur Longwood. He was unconscious
but still
breathing. Holding Wilbur in their gloved hands, Marcy and Linda tried to
revive
him. After about four minutes, Wilbur opened his eyes and looked around.
Linda
then reached into her handbag and pulled out her own teensy-tyke.
"Marcy," said Linda, "I think my teensy-tyke could stand some fresh air, too.
I
have an idea. Mom, are the pinwheels you bought for the garden still in
the car?"
"Yes, dear, they should be in a bag on the floor somewhere back there," said
Mrs.
Grayson as she started the car.
Linda quickly found the bag and took out two colorful pinwheels that spun on the
ends of wood sticks. She removed her brown leather gloves and grabbed some
tape
from the bag on the floor. Then she spread-eagled Timothy on the front of
a
pinwheel with his wrists and ankles taped to the pinwheel blades. When she
had
finished, she tugged her gloves back on. Marcy followed Linda's example
and taped
Wilbur, spread-eagled to the other pinwheel. "Now what?" she asked.
"Just hold the pinwheels out the back windows of the car," said Linda. The
fresh
air will do wonders for the little guys!"
"Wait a second," said Marcy. "First I want to be sure that my pinwheel
spins freely."
Marcy flicked her gloved fingertip against the side of Wilbur's head several
times
to spin her pinwheel. Linda did the same with hers. She thought she
could hear her
teensy-tyke squeaking something each time her gloved fingertip whapped the side
of
his head, but she couldn't make out what he was saying.
As Mrs. Grayson drove down the highway, Linda and Marcy held their pinwheels out
the
open back windows of the car. As they spun in the sunlight and brisk
breeze, the
pinwheels became a blur of beautiful colors. The air, however, was a bit
chilly.
Luckily, the girls were wearing their gloves.
Click here for Part Fifteen