My Step Sister And I: Pregnant For Me novel Chapter 23

I went back in the bedroom and search the closet for the rest of the outfit franca had directed me to wear. A box on the shelf above her blouses is labeled "wig/shoes." I took it down and set it on the bed to open it.

The wig fits snugly on my head. I suddenly have straight, black hair that falls just below my ears. The bottom edge is crisp and sharp like a broom. The bangs are just as dramatic, going straight across my forehead just above my eyebrows.

The shoes she has chosen for me are totally slutty. Shiny, black, six-inch heels. I slip my feet into them and take a few tentative steps across the room. I feel the shoes forcing me to perk up my chest and ass. The line from that Shania Twain song flashes through my brain, "Man, I feel like a woman."

I took a cute, black purse and throw my wallet inside.

It's time to leave.

My Dad Lexus SUV is parked in the garage. I climb in and crank it up, thankful that the windows are tinted. At least I won't have to humiliate myself in front of my neighbors.

Longwood is usually about 45 minutes away. I'm careful to obey the speed limit. The last thing I need is a brush with a cop. Once on the interstate, I find myself searching my iPod for Britney Spears, Madonna and Lady Gaga. The drive flies by. When I hit the exit, I'm tapping my foot to "Poker Face."

Not until I pull into a parking spot does the full weight of what I'm about to do hit me. A chill is in the air as I open the SUV door and swing my heels onto the pavement. I'm shaking as I click-clack on the concrete toward the entrance.

I'm noticed for the first time by the bellhop, who can't help but grin as he tips his hat. I return the gesture with a nervous smile of my own. The automatic doors slide open. The lobby's heat envelops me as I walk inside.

I'm hoping to get to the front desk with as little attention as possible. But the floor is ceramic tile, and my heels must be made of some uniquely hard plastic because the clicking reverberates around the cavernous lobby. I feel like the whole world is watching as I approach the clerk behind the front desk.

He's got his head down, and he's typing on a computer keyboard. He senses my presence and greets me without immediately looking up.

"Hello, ma'am, welcome to the Westin," he says.

The clerk looks up. His eyes pop.

"Er, I mean, sir," he says. "Terribly sorry-- which do you prefer."

I think about this for a second.

"You can call me Stephanie," I say in my best female voice.

"Very good, Stephanie," the clerk says. "How may I help you?"

"I'd like a suite, please," I say.

"Yes, of course," he says.

I hand him my credit card.

As the clerk taps on his keyboard, I notice that he's handsome, even in the lame red uniform the hotel makes him wear. He couldn't be more than 30, and he's got surfer-boy looks. His name tag says "Phil."

He hands me back my credit card.

"Thank you very much, Stephanie," he says.

He banged a couple more keys on the computer and then ran a plastic card through a machine next to his computer.

"Here's your room key. You'll be in suite 2204. And I'll be up to see you soon."

"Up to see me? For what?"

Phil smiles.

"Your stepmother invited me to the party."

I'm stunned.

"Party? What party?"

Phil's smile widens.