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— Having fun, are you? — I stepped back toward the exit from the showers into the changing room, trying to keep the towel from slipping.
— Oh, Ben… I mean, Lily, — Samantha followed me, her voice dripping with such sweet satisfaction it made me want to hiss. — You know I just want you to get used to it.
— Used to what? — I spun around sharply, instantly regretting it when the damp fabric over my breasts shifted. I pressed it back in place with both hands in panic. — Used to me… — I swallowed; the words wouldn’t come. — This circus with turbans and… and… — I lifted one hand, holding the towel with the other, showing off my long pink nails, the shine of the polish catching the light in a way that made me cringe. — And this?
— Yes, — her answer came far too firmly. — This is your life now, Lily. And the sooner you stop clenching your teeth and start breathing, the easier it’ll be.
I snorted and walked into the changing room, feeling the damp steam curl around my legs and cling to my skin. Benches, lockers, bright lights… and dozens of women changing, chatting, drying their hair. And me—right in the middle of them.
I caught a few glances. Some slid over me lazily, others lingered a bit longer, as if… they were jealous?!
— You drag me here and now… — I muttered under my breath, not wanting anyone to overhear. I didn’t want any more attention. Samantha just lazily opened the locker with our things and let her towel drop.
— Don’t even start, — she purred. She seemed to have adjusted far too quickly to the fact that her husband, the man she’d been married to for fifteen years since college, had turned in just four weeks into a teenage-looking girl with a body I couldn’t look at in the mirror without irritation.
She turned to me, completely unfazed by the fact we were surrounded by dozens of other women, and pulled out of her bag… a damn swimsuit. I didn’t even realize what it was at first.
— You’ve got to be kidding me, — I stepped back, clutching the towel as if it were the only barrier between me and utter humiliation.
— No, Lily. — She emphasized the new name in a way that made my skin crawl. — After the bath, we’re going to the pool.
— We’re not, — I snapped, feeling heat flood my face—not from the steam, but from the thought of having to put that on. Apparently, I’d said it too loudly, because the women nearby turned to look at me. Someone giggled, someone shook their head. Great, they probably thought I was some bratty teenager.
— Lily, at your age I was already going to the pool in a bikini. And this is just a one-piece, — Samantha held it out closer, like she was showing me a kitten no one could refuse.
I backed up again, but the bench behind me smacked my knee. I nearly lost my towel, and my heart dropped into my stomach.
— Are you out of your mind? — I hissed, pressing the fabric tighter against my breasts. — This… this is just… — I couldn’t even finish, because in my head I already saw the image: me in that coral thing which, judging by the size, would barely contain my new… curves.
— Stop being so dramatic, — she said calmly, placing the swimsuit on the bench. — Honestly, you’re acting like a spoiled little girl.
— I’m not a spoiled little girl, I— — I started yelling, then fell silent when I noticed people staring again. — Fuck, damn it.
— My goodness, young lady, that is no way to speak, — an elderly woman scolded me, giving me a look that made my stomach churn. She pursed her lips, squinted, and shook her head.
— At your age, young miss, you don’t talk like that. Girls should be… modest, — she said, still holding me under her heavy, examining gaze as if she were about to fine me for every swear word.
I gripped the towel tighter, feeling it stretch across my breasts, and muttered through clenched teeth:
— I’m actually—
But Samantha cut in, her voice dripping with mock tenderness:
— She’s just a little nervous, — she turned to the old lady with a soft smile that instantly melted her expression. — First time in the women’s bathhouse today.