Tour De Heart - Chapter 3 [TG Lesbian Romance]

Commissioned Anonymously

Chapter 3

Ken pedalled down the winding path that cut through the nearby park, his heart pounding against his chest so hard he could feel it in his new breasts. Louis had said they were focusing on endurance and not to push himself to top speed, but he couldn’t help it. The cool mountain trail was too perfect not to push his limits. The smooth road, the cool air; he felt like he was flying. 

 The afternoon sun cast a warm glow on him, dancing through the leaves of the tall trees that lined the route. It was a perfect day. It had been almost two weeks since he became Amelie, and the world continued to confound him. Not here, though; on his bike, where it was just him, the sound of his own breathing and the feel of pedals beneath his feet, the world made sense. 

And he hated it. 

He hated how easy it was to feel comfortable here. How whenever he let his guard down, more of his new history and personality seemed to leak in. He couldn’t even be sure if his enjoyment of cycling was him or his Amelie side taking over, maybe it always had been. Every night since he woke up in this body, he had spent time online looking for answers. He googled everything obvious first, which only got him strange internet stories. Then he went down the rabbit hole of trying to find a trace of his old life. But it seemed that Ken O’Brien had ceased to exist. That made him angrier than anything really; his whole life, just gone in an instant and nobody missed it. He hadn’t led an exciting life, it had been downright ordinary but it had been his! Emphasis on the his, male. 

Ken felt the familiar weight pulling at him as he pushed harder on the pedals. His DD breasts, while often a source of attention, had become a challenge during his training rides. As if he needed another reason to want out of this new body. With each lean forward against the handlebars, he felt the persistent crush that momentarily threw him off balance. He needed to lean forward to ride and maintain speed, which meant crushing them against the handlebars. In the end, he had to lean back and lost speed. It was driving him insane. It was a tricky balancing act, one that required focus to maintain his rhythm on the bike.

Determined not to let his physique dictate his performance, Ken adjusted his position, arching his back to create more space between his body and the handlebars. It was a tactic he had come to know well over the last few weeks, yet the struggle was constant. As he ascended a particularly steep incline, he found himself wishing even more fervently for his old body shape, for his flat chest and broad shoulders. He was sure this would be so much easier if he was still a man. It was actually a little ironic; he finally found a form of exercise he liked and now his body was making it harder to enjoy!

With a deep breath, Ken concentrated on his breathing. As he reached the top of the hill, he allowed himself a moment of pride. He had finally conquered the climb, but the descent beckoned him with its promise of speed and exhilaration. A tingle went through his spine; his Amelie side pulled at him, urging him forward and he was powerless to fight it. He shifted his weight back in a practised move, he barreled down the slope, it would have been perfect if it weren't for the soreness in his chest.

“Stupid tits,” he muttered. “Why couldn’t you be a little smaller?”

He leaned forward and pressed his hands harder against the handlebars, feeling the bike speed up. He ignored the pressure and let his eyes close just for a moment, entering a state of zen, if only for a second. When he opened his eyes, he was near the bottom of the hill. He could see Louis standing by a tree, stopwatch in hand. 

All of a sudden, he felt a familiar stretching sensation. The sports bra he had on felt like it was getting tighter around his chest. Almost like the thicker fabric inlaid to cup his breasts was pressing back against the flesh there. It felt exactly like when his sweatpants had mysteriously turned into bike shorts and Ken felt panic flare in his chest. He thought the changes were at an end. Why was it happening again?

He wobbled, hands trembling on the handlebars as he straightened up and skidded to halt a few metres from Louis, breathing hard. Without even thinking, his hands went to his chest, expecting his breasts to be even bigger, but instead, it was the opposite. His DDs had shrunk down to a more athletic, manageable C cup. 

“...huh.” Ken blinked in surprise. “Okay…I guess I can live with that.”

Ken ran his hands over the handlebars and regarded the bike, and realisation struck. 

“You’re what changed everything…”

He had no idea how but he was sure this bike was the source of his changes. Somehow it was transforming his body and reality. 

“But how do I trigger it…” 

If the bike was the cause, would staying off it change him back? Or just keep things paused? His mind raced; he’d found what he was looking for but was no closer to turning back than he had been yesterday. 

“Amelie! What happened?!” Louis said as he jogged up beside him. “You were about to make great time, and then you just stopped.”

“Sorry…I got some dust in my eye.” Ken lied lamely, and Louis scoffed.

“Come on, Amelie, we both know you’re a terrible liar.”

“Um…”

What was he supposed to say? Sorry Louis, my magical bike transformed my tits into C cups while I was riding and I found it a bit distracting? Also, I have technically only been a cyclist for a fortnight and have no idea what I am doing? 

“Amelie, I say this with all my love…do you need a roll in the hay?”

“What!? Louis! I thought you were gay!” Ken cried, face burning in humiliation at the idea of being bedded by another man. 

“Not me!” Louis groaned and pinched his nose in frustration. “You’re distracted, you're lying and…well, you’re feeling yourself up a lot more than you probably should be.”

It was then Ken realised he still had one hand on his breast and quickly dropped it.

“No judgement here, darling.” Louis chuckled, “But I need you focused. Why don’t you call up one of your exes or go hit the bar or something?”

He was only half joking, and that made things all the more embarrassing. 

“Sorry, Louis. I’ll focus. I don’t need…that. Let’s just get back to it, hm?” 

Ken just wanted to get back on the bike, riding was a lot less awkward. Louis made a face and looked like he was going to say something before he shook his head and thought better of it. 

“Alright, another circuit, then warm down stretches. And this time, try to maintain a steady pace, no racing up the hill.”

“Got it.”

Ken let out a sigh of relief, tired as he was, he just wanted to be doing anything but having this conversation. This new body and all that came with it made life so much more complicated. He peddled and long, only half paying attention to the trail.

“If you’re what changed everything…” He murmured, gripping the handles. “What else can you change? You transformed my breasts…do you think you could give me a million dollars? Or change me into a man?” 

Nothing happened. Obviously, it seemed the bike only changed what he ‘needed’ regardless of how he felt about it. At least, that was the best theory he could come up with. Ken thought back to the woman with the red hair who’d given it to him. The strange way she talked about being ‘like him once’. At the time Ken had assumed she just meant unfit but now he couldn’t help but wonder if it was something else. Had she been a man? Maybe he’d have the answers he needed if he could find her. Or… maybe if he stopped riding the bike, things would go back to the way they were. 

The idea made his stomach twist uncomfortably. Riding was the only thing that brought him joy in this confusing new life. Each morning, he woke up driven to get right into the saddle. When he wasn't riding, he was daydreaming about it. He didn’t want to give it up. 

“But I can’t just stay a woman…can I? What the hell am I saying, obviously I can’t!” 

“Amelie! Amelie, stop!!”

The shouts made him startle, and he realised Louis was behind him, waving his arms back and forth. Ken completed the circuit again without even realising it and went right past him. His coach raced after him, and Ken couldn’t help but giggle.

“Sorry, Louis, I was in the zone.”

Not entirely untrue. 

“You don’t…pay me…enough for this, " he panted with a cheeky grin. Come on, warm down stretches and then I'm ordering you, as your coach, to go get some so I can get my focused girl back.”

Ken laughed nervously. He knew Louis was joking, but his mind drifted to the redheaded woman who had given him the bike. Maybe if he got out a bit more, he could find her and get some answers. He’d only left his apartment to ride since the change occurred. Going out to a few bars in the name of relaxation would be the perfect place to look for her. 

“Stop looking so serious.” Louis chided. “Amelie, I mean it, you’re clearly wound up about something. I think you need to relax a bit. These early months of training are when you have the chance to take things slow. Go out, have some fun, don’t think about bikes for an hour.”

Maybe Louis was right, maybe he did need to get out of his own head a bit.

“You know what, Louis? I think I will.”

~

“Is that what you’re wearing?” 

Ken has just stepped out of his room, showered and dressed ready to leave the apartment and not cycle for the first time in weeks. Louis was still sitting on the couch, going through training notes and looking at him with an unimpressed expression. 

“What do you mean? This is the stuff I always wear.” 

At least, he assumed that was true, his cupboard was almost entirely athletic wear. What was wrong with walking around in tights and a nice, comfortable singlet? It was the closest he could find to jeans and a shirt. If it weren't for the way the tights hugged the curve of his legs and ass, Ken could almost pretend he was male again. 

“You’re going to a bar, not the gym. Or at least, I hope you’re going to a bar.” 

“So?”

“Darling, if you want to pick up you’re going to need to dress better than that.” 

“Is this the part where you whisk me back into my room and magically dress me up?”

Louis scoffed and went back to his notes.

“Last I checked, this wasn't a romcom from 2004. Just because I am gay doesn’t automatically make me a fashionista.”

Ken looked Louis up and down, taking in the grey shorts and grey shirt.

“I could have told you that.”

“You wound me, darling,” Louis said without looking up from his notes. “Now, go back into your room and don’t come out till you’re in something more…girly. Then get out there and have some fun. I want you relaxed, limber and ready to go tomorrow, so make sure you pick a guy who knows how to treat a lady.”

“Unlike you?”

“Exactly.”

Ken rolled his eyes and smiled fondly. Despite all the confusion that came with this new life, he found himself glad for Louis’ presence. Maybe it was that strange knowledge that sometimes flowed into his head, or maybe the guy was just likeable; whatever the reason, Ken found it easy to banter back and forth with him. He also seemed genuinely determined to turn Amelie into the best cyclist possible, having somebody so dedicated to making him the best person he could be was…nice. Back at his old job, it was every man for himself: spreadsheets, deadlines and a sea of grey sad faces. Nobody really cared to talk outside of idle chatter and the only time his superior even spoke to him was if he’d made a mistake. Now he had his own personal cheerleader and got to spend every day doing something he loved. And he did love cycling. Again, he couldn’t be sure if it was just him discovering a passion or Amelie’s personality leaking in, but the result was the same regardless. He was…enjoying life. No matter how hard he tried not to. 

Ken looked at himself in the mirror; he had expected to get used to seeing a beautiful blonde reflected back at him by now. He sighed and ran his hands through the soft, silky strands of hair that now cascaded over his shoulders. He wasn’t used to it. None of it.

“One girly outfit…come on Ken.” 

He shuffled through cupboards and drawers until, finally, he found one that seemed to be dedicated to items that weren’t made for workouts. He grabbed a few pieces and laid them out on the bed like he’d seen women do in movies.  It wasn’t overly revealing but still undeniably feminine—a pair of hip-hugging jeans that would fit snugly against his new curves and a black midriff singlet that showed just a hint of the stomach. Tasteful, flattering even, but it made his chest tighten with nerves but also…desire. He wanted to wear them and look cute; that in itself was odd. He’d never been one of those guys who was drawn to feminine clothing before. He picked up the jeans, the fabric soft in his hands. He felt an odd mix of fascination and dread.

 “Just clothes,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s just clothes.” 

But it wasn’t just that. Wearing them felt like something more—a confirmation that he wasn’t who he thought he was anymore. It felt like admitting he was Amelie now, not Ken. The scariest part was there was a part of him that wasn’t even bothered. 

Slipping into the jeans was strange. They fit perfectly, hugging his hips in a way that felt unfamiliar, accentuating curves he had never had before. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he buttoned them up, his eyes lingering on the silhouette. The tightness around his waist, the way the denim hugged every contour, sent conflicting emotions washing over him. 

Ken tugged the singlet over his head next. The material clung to his body, and his stomach was exposed. He had to pause for a second, staring at the way his waist dipped inward, how the black fabric hugged his chest. He shifted uneasily, trying to pull it down, but the singlet was designed to show a little skin. He looked up at his reflection and realised he felt…cute. 

He loved how they looked and felt on him, but he simultaneously hated that he felt that way. He wanted to be more disgusted and uncomfortable. He wanted confirmation that he really was Ken deep down despite all the changes. Now, he was being forced to face the uncomfortable truth; maybe he wasn’t. He was so wrapped up in his own head his body started to move on auto pilot; moving to the bathroom and slowly applying a layer of red lipstick and dark mascara. It was only when he leaned in close to the mirror to make sure he hadn’t smudged it at all that he even realised he’d done it. Another Amelie instinct. So much for getting out of his own head. 

“Amelie? I have to go, do you want me to drop you into town?”

“Uh, sure! Coming.”

Ken stepped out and watched as Louis’ eyes lit up.

“That’s more like it!” 

Ken couldn’t help but blush and Louis wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“Amelie.” He said seriously. “You know I love your dedication but…I’m your only friend. I know you want to be champion one day but when you get there, don’t you want some friends to celebrate with? Real ones, not hangers on.”

“I guess…”

“In six months time, you’ll be so busy raining you won't have time to even brush that pretty hair of yours. Enjoy yourself while you can.”

Ken thought about his original plan, to go out and find the red haired woman using a night on the town as an excuse; then he threw it away. What he wanted right now, more than anything, was to get drunk and not think about his new life or his old life. He just wanted to be for a bit. 

“Let’s get going.”

Louis dropped him off at the city's edge where several clubs and bars lined the streets. Ken found himself smiling; one that wouldn’t have changed is drinking. Man or woman, he could sit at a bar and enjoy a beer. 

Still, it felt odd walking into the sleepy little French bar and seeing heads turn. Not in an obvious way, but it was still noticeable. He could feel eyes, especially men’s eyes, on him. It made him uncomfortable but also oddly flattered. The bartender served him faster than any other had in his life and even stood by just to make sure he liked the beer set in front of him. Ken took a sip and forced a smile.

“It’s great!” He chimed, only letting his smile falter when the bartender was distracted by another woman at the other end of the bar. 

It wasn't that beer was bad; it just…wasn't as good as he thought it would be. He looked down the bar at the other woman being served; the bartender emptied red liquid from a silver shaker into a martini glass. Maybe it was his imagination, but Ken swore he could smell the scent of sugar and cranberry juice. His mouth watered, and suddenly, the hoppy beer in front of him didn't seem very appealing at all. Neither did drinking alone. 

“Probably for the best.” He muttered to himself, taking another sip of his beer and forcing himself to like it. “Time to get to work.”

He had to find that woman and convince her to fix whatever she and her weird, oddly addicting bike had done to him. He scanned the crowd, looking for a head of frizzy red hair and found…nothing. 

“Huh…Maybe I should have thought of a more thorough plan.” 

He pressed his lips together in thought; he’d finish his drink and then try another bar. The idea that she could have moved on and been in an entirely different city by now made a stone form in his stomach; what if he could never change things back? What if he was stuck as Amelie Blanchet forever? His grip tightened around the cold glass; he should never have taken that bike! He knew there was a catch! 

“Hey gorgeous.” A man with slicked back hair sat himself down in the empty seat beside him. “Somebody that beautiful shouldn’t be looking so miserable. Did somebody stand you up, sweetheart?”

Ken made a face, God, is that how he’d sounded trying to pick up women in bars? No wonder he was single. 

“No, I am just here on my own.”

“Well then, why don;t I keep you company?”

“That’s not necessary…”

“Amelie?”

Ken turned and smiled in relief as a face appeared in the crowd. 

“Jean!”

“There you are, sorry I’m late.” She said pointedly, locking eyes with the man who sighed and slunk off. 

“Thanks.” Ken said.

“No problem, girl code.” Jean giggled. 

She wore a chic dress cut with a short hem that showed off her long legs. Ken couldn’t help but drag his eyes over them once before remembering himself. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice. 

“I didn’t know you came here.” Jean said, looking at the now empty stool next to him. “Is this seat taken?”

“No, not at all! I’d be glad for the company.”

Jean slid into the seat, looking slightly star-struck and nervous again. 

“You’re not waiting for somebody? I don’t want to intrude.” 

“No, just me tonight…my coach says I need to get out more while I can before training gets intense.”

“Wow, I always figured somebody like you would have a famous boyfriend or a bunch of celebrity friends to hang out with. All expensive, exclusive Parisian clubs, not places like this.”

Ken blushed, he hadn’t looked into it but considering he had been living this life for a fortnight and not received so much as a text from anybody but Louis. It was pretty safe to say Amelie was a loner. 

“Actually I don’t have that many friends…I mostly just…cycle.”

It wasn't strictly untrue. It really was all he did here. None of Amelie’s hobbies had popped into his head yet and looking around the apartment, he couldn’t find any trace of them either. That, combined with Louis’ words, made it seem like cycling was Amelie’s life, twenty-four-seven. Jean ordered, and they sipped their drinks awkwardly, not sure how to continue the conversation. 

“I uh, like your dress.” Jean said suddenly, and Ken raised an eyebrow.

“I’m wearing jeans.”

“Oh.” Jean’s face went bright red, and Ken couldn’t help it. He burst into a fit of giggles, which only made Jean blush harder.

“I’m sorry.” He giggled. “It’s just…it's so weird you getting flustered over me. I’ve never even come first in any big races.”

Ken knew it was true as he said it, and he felt an odd chip start forming on his shoulder. Suddenly, he remembered every race Amelie had ever participated in. They formed a long list in his mind, a career full of silver but never gold. His grip on his beer tightened slightly. It was stupid, he didn;t even really win those medals and yet he tasted the bitterness of coming in second place each time strongly. 

“So? You’re still incredible. I’m just a little bike shop owner! You’re a professional rider, you came so close to winning the Tour de France last year, I was on the edge of my seat!” 

“Really? I’m flattered, but really, I am just a normal gu-uh, girl. I swear.”

“I’m beginning to see that.” Jean smiled. She had a lovely smile. Perfect white teeth framed by ruby-red lips. Ken felt warmth form in his lower stomach as he admired it. 

“How about this.” Jean slammed down the rest of her drink. “Tonight we forget who we are. Why don’t we just have some fun together, two girl friends on the town.”

Ken looked around the room one last time, of course the red headed woman hadn’t walked in, that would be too easy. It had been a stressful few weeks and he didn’t really have much of a plan. Maybe letting loose just a little couldn’t hurt. 

“I think I’d like that. But you might have to teach me, I’ve never been a girl in the town before.”

Jean’s mouth formed a perfect O.

“Seriously!?”

“Dead serious.” 

Technically, he’d been drinking plenty of time, just not as a woman. 

“Well then, I'd better give you the best night ever.” Jean grinned, grabbing his hand in her own. “I’m taking you dancing.”

Ken’s mouth was dry, Jean’s hand on his made that warmth in his lower stomach creep lower and coil between his legs. For the first time since the change, he was glad he didn't have a cock anymore. If he did, his arousal would be obvious. He quickly took his hand away and gripped the beer in front of him, lifting it to his lips and downing it in three quick gulps before slamming the glass back down on the bar. 

“Alright, but if I am going to dance, I need another drink first. A proper one.”

“One cosmo, coming up!” 

Ken sat stiffly at the bar, watching the drink being poured. His hands wrapped around a glass of the neon-coloured fruit drink, feeling awkward. This was the sort of thing that men got snickered at for ordering. But he wasn’t a man anymore, so nobody cared. He almost wished somebody would. Jean raised her own drink, and Ken copied the motion, lifting his pinky finger up in a mirror of her, and they clinked the glasses together. The sweetness hit his tongue first, followed by a slow burn that spread down his throat, warming his insides. Ken exhaled, a mix of nerves and alcohol settling in her stomach.

"So," Jean said, turning to face Ken with a mischievous grin, "have you ever been to a place like this before?"

His tongue was tied, as Ken? Sure. He’d been to places like this plenty of times. Drinking alone or with workmates. But his Amelie side took over; she was practically a bar and club virgin. 

"Not really," he admitted. "I usually just, you know, train. Work out. This whole… partying thing isn’t really my scene."

Jean leaned back, sipping her own drink with ease, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

 "That’s why you’ve got me, babe. I’m here to show you how to have a little fun for once."

Ken raised an eyebrow at the nickname, it seemed that all it took to get rid of Jean’s nervousness was a few sips of alcohol. Her starstruck look had faded, and now Amelie was just another woman in her mind. It made Ken feel nice for reasons he couldn’t quite place. It was nice being around someone who knew how to enjoy life without overthinking it. That was the whole reason he was here, after all. 

"Okay," Ken said, straightening up. "What’s next on the ‘how to have fun’ agenda?"

Jean grinned wider. 

"Oh, just you wait. We’re hitting the dance floor."

Ken’s heart skipped a beat. Dancing? He had no idea how to dance. Especially not as a woman! They had extra parts that jiggle when they moved, and just the idea of flailing his body around and feeling his ass and breasts move was enough to make him flush with embarrassment and down the whole drink to cope. 

"I don’t… really know how," He admitted, shifting in her seat as Jean ordered them another pair of drinks, this time neon blue. 

"Trust me, you’ll be fine. You’re an athlete, right? Dancing’s just another way to move. C’mon, it’s not about looking good; it’s about feeling good." 

“But cycling is nothing like dancing…”

“You’ll figure it out, down that and let’s go.”

The alcohol burned down his throat and Ken let it fuel him; he was here to stop overthinking and to have fun. If that meant dancing…at least he could do it black-out drunk and not remember it tomorrow. 

Hesitant, Ken took Jean’s hand, and the other woman dragged him out the door and down the street to a dance club with music so loud he could feel it vibrating up his legs and into his chest. They were instantly packed into a press of people as they went inside. Jean didn’t let go of her hand, keeping him close as they found a spot in the crowd and Ken held onto her for dear life. 

"Just follow my lead," Jean said, her voice barely audible over the music.

Ken tried to relax, but his body stayed rigid, unsure how to move. Jean started swaying, her hips rolling easily to the beat. Ken tried to copy her, feeling clumsy and awkward. She was used to controlled movements with precision. This felt… wild, unpredictable. He could feel the weight of his butt, despite how taut it was from training. It felt obscene. 

"It’s okay," Jean murmured, stepping closer. "Just let go a little. No one’s watching you. It’s just us here."

Ken gave a nervous giggle.

“Everybody is watching, this place is packed!”

“Yeah, but nobody cares. Nobody is paying attention to you. Except me.”

Ken swallowed, nodding. Jean’s words helped, and the alcohol was starting to kick in, making his limbs feel looser. Slowly, he let himself sway more freely, matching Jean’s rhythm. Jean smiled, her eyes bright, and something in that smile made Ken’s heart race.

They danced together, closer than Ken had expected. Jean’s hands rested on his waist at one point, guiding him into the music, and Ken found himself laughing unexpectedly. For the first time, he wasn’t thinking about how he looked, how he moved. He was just… feeling.

They raced to the bar, a shot, then another dance, dance shot, dance shot. Ken started to lose track. The world was a blur of lights, sounds and warm, fleeting touches. His body felt hot and alive in a way that it never had before, and Jean’s fingers often tangled into his own. They danced together, crushed close by the crowd, breast to breast at one point, undulating hips pressing together. After what felt like an eternity and a blink all at once, Jean pulled him off the floor, both of them breathless and laughing. 

"See? You’re a natural," she teased, leading Ken back to the bar.

"I think that was the alcohol." Ken shook his head, still grinning. 

"Or maybe you’re just loosening up."

There was something in Jean’s tone, something that made Ken’s pulse quicken again, but this time it wasn’t from the dancing. He felt the tension, the way Jean’s eyes lingered on him, and how his body seemed to react to Jean’s nearness. But… he wasn’t sure what to do with that feeling, whether she was ready to act on it—or even if he should. Suddenly, he felt a realisation wash over him, another of Amelie’s memories. Of sneaking away at the French boarding school she’d spent her youth at—an all girls school where she and another girl fumbled in the dark after lights out. Amelie was a lesbian. Before she could dwell too long, Jean nudged him playfully. 

"Alright, now for the real test. Karaoke."

Ken’s eyes widened. 

"No way. I’m not—"

"Come on!" Jean grinned, pulling her toward the stage. "I’ll do it with you. I promise, it’ll be fun. Just pick a song you know, and I’ll handle the rest."

Ken was half-dragged onto the small stage, staring out at the crowd of people who, thankfully, didn’t seem to care about them one bit. The screen lit up with song options, and Jean pointed to one.

"This one’s perfect. You know it, right?"

Ken had never heard of that song before; it was a French pop song. And yet, the words appeared in his head, and more knowledge from Amelie. 

“I know it.” He groaned. “I just don’t know if I can survive the embarrassment of actually singing it…”

“Liquid courage!”

Another drink: Where had she even gotten it? Ken didn't care. He downed it and hit play on the machine before gripping the microphone. In for a Penny, in for a pound. Or…Euro. 

As they started singing, Jean belted out the lyrics with wild abandon, and Ken laughed again, singing along with less hesitation than he thought possible. When it was over, they stumbled off the stage, laughing so hard Ken could barely breathe. He hadn’t felt this light in… he couldn’t remember how long. He didn't want things to end, he wanted to stay in this happy haze forever, with Jean at his side. The control he had been so carefully maintaining began to slip and he felt his Amelie side taking over. His body suddenly knew how to dance, how to laugh, how to simply be as a woman. Ken could feel himself going off the rails but was helpless to stop it; Amelie had the wheel. Jean wrapped an arm around his shoulder and grinned. 

“Come on, I hear more shots calling out names.” 

~

This story isn't finished! More chapters will be coming on November 21st!