PART 73
She paused for dramatic effect. “Why… I must confess… it’s so difficult to choose,” she went on, “I almost want to declare everyone a winner!” She got some good-humored laughter and chuckles at her playful theatrics as she teased the crowd. “But alas,” she continued, “we’ve only got one prize.” Mrs. Standish’s eyes glimmered as she looked around the room purposefully, gleefully drawing out the suspense.
As Mrs. Standish continued to speak, Mrs. Smyth left no doubt that she had taken note of Josh’s renewed fidgeting, even as minor as it was. First, she silently leaned over and smoothed his collar with a featherlight but insistent touch. In the same motion, she brushed an invisible speck of lint from his velvet jacket, her expression softening into a gentle, almost amused smile. Her hand settled on his forearm to quiet his movements with a soft pat as if she were calming a toddler. It was a pointed cue urging him to remain still, wordlessly expressing her desire for grace and order. Chastened and meek, Josh immediately stopped squirming and tried to comply. She maintained her maternal grip on his arm until she was satisfied that he was still.
Josh’s world seemed to shrink with every doting correction, each kind but unwavering touch that reshaped him into a vision far removed from the boy he once knew. He sat enveloped by lace and velvet, the soft tickle of frills a constant reminder of his new reality.
Humiliation flared in small, sharp bursts. He fought the urge to fret and fidget beneath the layers of lace and velvet, his corset pressing firmly against his ribs. The heat of humiliation flared across his cheeks, and he could feel the prickling sensation of his skin against the starched collar that now sat perfectly, the frills fanned out to their full, ostentatious glory.
Noting his still lowered head, Mrs. Smyth whispered ever so softly, “Josh, sweetheart, chin up please.” She lifted her hand up to delicately tap his chin a few times with her fingernails. She gently but insistently nudged his face back up, returning him to a more demure pose. She was loving and firm as she continued to shape his posture and demeanor to project a dainty and refined image. Josh swallowed, his lips parted as her touch lingered beneath his chin. This simple act of angling his jaw felt impossibly intimate. It was a painful reminder that every inch of him was being curated for the approval of the women gathered around the table.
His mother noted this interaction with satisfaction and nodded approvingly. The subtle exchange between the two women reinforced their shared goals for Josh. As Mrs. Standish continued to carry on, Josh felt small and utterly powerless. He tried to keep his breathing shallow as he silently pleaded for the awards to conclude quickly.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Standish teased the crowd a bit more, and Josh’s insides twisted with anxiety. He tried to shrink and turn invisible in his chair, desperately hoping she would not call his name. His heart thumped faster. A flock of butterflies fluttered wildly in his tummy, and his little man raged futilely in its cage. He glanced nervously at his mother, at Kathy, at the crowd, searching for a miracle, but all he saw were amused faces and eager eyes waiting for the next moment of entertainment. Kathy’s eyes sparkled with pride and affection as she watched him, and his mother’s expression shone with satisfied approval. And of course, the discomfort in his bladder remained insistent.
After several more agonizing moments, Mrs. Standish’s eyes finally drifted toward him. The room was abuzz with laughter and anticipation, but for Josh, the world had shrunk to the suffocating confines of his Fauntleroy suit. His insides twisted with dread as Mrs. Standish drew out the moment, her cheerful theatrics only heightening his suspense.
Josh clung to the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, he would be spared further spectacle. “Don’t pick me, please don’t pick me,” he silently pleaded, his thoughts tumbling over one another as he tried to will himself into the background. Desperate for relief from the ache in his bladder, he squeezed his knees together and felt the crinkly diaper rustle beneath him.
Then, Mrs. Standish paused with an expectant smile on her face and locked in on the sissified lad. Trapped like a deer in the headlights, Josh held his breath and felt his cheeks flush even more. Even before she spoke, Josh knew what she was going to say.
Topic: New Arrangements for Josh (Read 248627 times)
