Who Is Lucas Ryker O'Riley?

59. THAT'S FIVE

Dave strolled into the family room and comically strutted across in front of where I was sitting. He was swaying his hips in an exaggerated manner and laughing.

"I bet I could rock a pair of stilettos." he boasted before taking his seat.

He began untying the ribbon from around one ankle, in order to take the shoes off.

I stopped him. "Wait. Wait. Wait. No--"

"Whata you mean? We're about to finish our football game. I always take my shoes off and pull my feet up in the chair."

"No. You gotta keep them on and sit ladylike until we go to bed . . . Unless, you'd rather I bring you that tricky pair of stilettos you so confidently think you could rock."

He thought about it for a second before surprising me with his answer.

"Okay then, bring them."

I didn't expect that. "Wait, what?"

"You heard me. Challange Excepted. I ain't no chicken."

"Okay, but I never implied you were."

If he wanted to try, I was happy to accommodate him.

When I returned with the shoes, I sat them on the floor in front of him.

His eyes grew big when he saw how tall they were.

He didn't even notice I had my other hand behind my back.

"You're kidding right?" he asked.

"But you said--"

"I know, I know. Cool your tits, sweet cheeks. Just kidding, I got this."

"Oh there's one more thing." I added.

I tossed an article of clothing at him.

"What's this," he asked, unfoldimg it to find he was holding a short, flared, pleated skirt that was short, so short it would only cover half his thighs.

"Put the skirt on, and for the rest of the night, you've got to sit modestly. Every time I catch you exposing yourself, not keeping your skirt down, and knees together in a feminine manner that's one day you have to wear an article of girls clothing the whole day; panties, a bra, or hose. Nothing that can be obviously seen, but something."

I knew how big his ego was. He's never been able to turn down a challenge, especially when I call him chicken, but this time, I didn't even have to go that far. He was either enjoying this too much or really trying to understand.

"Bet! Too easy," he laughed and stood up.

I watched as he slipped the skirt on over the bikini bottoms and sat back down.

"How long do I have to do this?"

"Till the football game is over. Oh and you didn't put the shoes on first, so now you gotta do that without exposing yourself. Good luck."

Putting on stilettos while not exposing himself wasn't something Dave could accomplish easily. By the time he had the shoes strapped on his feet and tried to stand back up to get a feel for them, he was already up to three days.

Dave quickly hopped up the way he normally did, lost his balance, and fell back on to the couch.

I laughed.
me
"Not so easy, is it, bro?"

He waved off and tried again, standing slower this time. After deciding he could stay upright, he stood there for a moment testing his balance before trying to sit back down.

"Wait," I quickly called out. "While you're up, can you go get us a drink and show me how expertly you can rock those stilettos?"

He caught himself, paused for a moment, then cautiously took a step, and another, and another.

Eventually he made it to the kitchen, his already injured ankle making it all the more difficult.

"Be careful, you can't afford to be injuring yourself even more."

When he returned, he was walking slowly. With each step he took, he concentrated on remaining upright and trying not to spill any of the full glasses of sweet tea he carried, one in each hand.

When he handed me my glass, I laughed at his struggle and pointed out how he could have just grabbed two canned sodas out of the fridge.

"Dangit. Why didn't I think of that?"

Dave sat his glass on the coffee table, took a seat on the edge of the couch, and made sure the skirt was pulled down and his knees were together.

"How's this," he inquired of the way he was sitting.

"That's good, but try crossing your legs."

He lifted one leg and crossed it over the other at his knees.

"That's four days," I called out loudly.

"Whata you mean?"

"You totally exposed your crotch, trying to do that."

Dave complained about how uncomfortable it was with his legs crossed that way, then placed his foot back on the floor, pulling his feet and knees back together and picked up his controller.

"Let's get this over with," he suggested.

I picked up my controller and instructed him to pull his skirt back down.

We played an intense game, neither of us allowing the other to score through the second quarter.

The second play after halftime, Dave recovered a fumble, for a turnover and ran it in.

"Touchdown! Take that," he yelled, jumping up from his seat as he often did whenever he did something particularly exciting in the game.

In that moment he had obviously forgotten about the heels and no sooner than he jumped up he fell flat on his face.

My immediate reaction was to burst out laughing, but it only took a second or two for me to realize he could have injured himself further.

He rolled over and sat up, trying to down play any pain he may have been feeling.

"I'm okay," he called out. "Cause I'm a man."

I began to laugh again. "That remains to be seen."

His skirt was gathered around his waist, totally exposing his bikini bottom.

"From my view, you aren't looking very manly," I joked.

We both had a good laugh together.

"Oh, and that makes five days," I added as I offered my hand and helped him stand back up.

No sooner than he turned around and sat back on the couch, we heard an unmistakable sound outside. It was a car pulling to a stop in front of the house.

We both instantly knew what that sound meant.

Our parents were home early.