Full Force III: Extreme
here is a story about how to “swing” the mood.
Start with Dilemma
Swinging the Mood – Part One
The following Friday, 7pm
Dakota walked into her sister’s house, tossing her purse across the room and sitting down on the sofa. Burying her face in her hands, she was grateful that her sister and niece weren’t home to see her current meltdown. Oh, what an angering day it had been. Work was fine and everything went smoothly. Dutch texted her at lunch and she was so flirtatious at the time that she lifted the front of her shirt and sent him a picture of her bra.
It was actually a very good day, in reality. So why was it all so angering to her?
She really wished she could answer that question. But this was the case. It was happening again. It was a day of blah for her, emotionally. These days of blah always made her shut down. It wasn’t a hormonal thing. So she couldn’t blame her gender for it. And it wasn’t brought about by bad things happening to her.
There was absolutely no reason for her unhappiness. Yet she was.
Getting her cell phone out of her purse, she started texting with Dutch, hoping for a miracle. A few days ago , he said he would help her with this shutdown thing. Hopefully, he could find the solution that she couldn’t.
Dakota: Hello, Daddy. xoxo
But he didn’t reply back right away. Several minutes went by, in fact. And he still hadn’t replied. Sighing sadly, she got up from the couch – grabbing her purse and walking back to her bedroom. Kicking her heels off, she tossed her purse and cell phone on her bed.
Beginning to unbutton her blouse, she scoffed at her image in the mirror on the wall. She looked really good and had dressed quite business-fashionably for the day. It had even been one of those days when her hair cooperated with her and her make-up went on with ease … no smudges or mistakes. And despite all of the great things about this day, she still had the blah feeling about her.
Unzipping the back of her skirt she slid it down her legs and stepped out of it, tossing it and her blouse across the room – towards the hamper. Sliding her nylons down her legs, she bent over. And it was at that moment that her cell phone chimed a new text message alert. Standing up, she tried to walk over to the bed but fell flat on the floor as her feet were still in the nylons. She sat up and grabbed at the nylons in the middle, pulling on them and laying on her back to put her feet in the air.
That was when her cell phone chimed alert of another new text message. She crawled over to the foot of the bed and reached up onto the mattress, grabbing her cell phone as she continued to struggle with her nylons. Looking at the two text messages, she scoffed again.
Dutch: Hello, BabyGirl.
Dutch: How was your day?
Putting her phone on speaker, she called Dutch – setting the phone on the floor and grabbing the middle of her nylons. Sitting up, she began to wrap her left forearm around the middle of the nylons again and again – finally making some progress with getting them off her.
“Hello, Princess,” Dutch’s voice said from her cell phone.
“Hello,” Dakota answered with a tone of obvious frustration – only obvious to her, of course.
“What’s on your mind?” Dutch asked, having learned to get right to the matter at hand when something seemed wrong.
And from the discussion they had a week ago about how she sometimes grew unhappy for no reason at all, he wasn’t about to dally.
“I hate being a girl,” Dakota answered, giving him the wrong impression of what was bothering her.
“Oh … well … uh,” Dutch stammered, searching for what to say.
“No, I’m not talking about that – though I have that to look forward to in a week,” Dakota clarified, finally getting the nylons off her feet and standing up. “I’m just irritated with everything. That’s all.”
Getting up and walking over to the hamper, she picked up her clothes and tossed them in, then doing the arm chicken-wing thing to unfasten her bra and add it to the hamper. Sliding out of her panties, she tossed them in as well.
“What are you wearing, right now?” Dutch asked, trying to change the subject – but more importantly, trying to change the mood of the conversation.
Dakota turned around and looked down at the phone on the floor. Then she looked at her naked frame in the mirror across the bedroom, smiling at how he had asked that very question and this very moment.
“Nothing,” Dakota said with a playfulness to her tone.
“Not even your earrings?” Dutch asked, just as playfully.
“Yes, I’m still wearing them,” Dakota said with a small laugh.
“I think you might be wearing something else, too,” Dutch said, Dakota looking down at the phone on the floor with confusion on her face. “Are you in your bedroom?”
“Yes,” Dakota answered, still confused.
“Go to your mirror,” Dutch instructed. “Get as close as you can. Look at your image. Tell me what else you see that you’re wearing.”
Dakota went to the mirror, trying not to laugh at his silliness. She wasn’t wearing anything else. What was he talking about?
“Do you see anything?” Dutch asked.
“No,” Dakota asked, grinning as she tried to figure out what he was driving at. “What else do you think I’m wearing?”
“Lean in and touch the tip of your nose to the mirror and I’ll tell you,” Dutch said, lowering the timbre of his voice – a change in his tone that derived a tingling response in her core.
“Okay,” Dakota said with softness in her voice, leaning in and touching her nose to the mirror – grinning again. “So what else am I wearing, Daddy?”
“…… a smile,” Dutch said, Dakota then smiling more brightly as she stepped back from the mirror.
“You can’t fix me, Dutch,” Dakota said, walking over and sitting next to her cell phone – then leaning back against the foot of her bed. “You can’t even help me with my problems because I won’t allow you to. People have tried … a lot of people.”
“Yeah. A lot of people can try to help you with your problem,” Dutch said. “Maybe I can try to help you forget them.”
Dakota looked back over at the mirror as he spoke.
“And if nothing else, maybe I can try to help you see through to the other side of whatever you may be feeling,” Dutch continued. “Have you considered seeing someone about the unhappiness? Maybe Misty-n-Morgan will know what you need to get through it and to dodge it in the future.”
“I doubt it,” Dakota said, folding her arms and lowering her chin. “I’ve used up enough time off from work and I’m tired of interrupting my life to get myself back in order.”
“Is there medication for it?” Dutch suggested, cautiously.
“I’ve taken medication for things before and all it ever does for me is to numb my senses,” Dakota replied. “It’s like I’m being protected from feeling duress and pain … and some kind of depression that knows no catalyst.”
“And that would only make the crash worse when you come off the pills,” Dutch added, seeing her point.
“That’s if I would ever be able to come off the pills,” she said.
“Okay,” Dutch said, redirecting the conversation once again. “Why don’t you come over to my place for a few hours this evening.”
“I don’t think I’d be very good company right now,” Dakota sad grimly. “I mean … I have the weekend off and I don’t have to be at work until Monday at 10 and I did want to spend time with you.”
“Then come over,” Dutch said, seeing the decision as being simple.
“I’m feeling blah. It’s that generalized malaise thing I told you about last weekend,” Dakota said with sadness.
“I don’t care,” Dutch said with a stronger tone, not a mean change in his voice but one that held more aggression than a moment ago. “I want you to put on a schoolgirl outfit and come over here right now.”
Dakota smiled, adding shrunken shoulders to her lowered chin and softly laughing.
“Don’t look now, but I bet that smile you’re wearing is becoming a contagious condition,” Dutch said playfully. “Get yourself ready, Princess. And make sure your panties are baby pink.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Dakota said with softness in her tone.
15 minutes later
It only took her a short while to put together the schoolgirl outfit and an even quicker amount of time to put it on. The white button-down shirt was the easy part. The wider collar, the female cut shape, the stiff cuffs that easily folded up the forearms … that was nothing to figure out. It was the skirt that was the difficult part.
Dutch loved to see the schoolgirl look on her. Because of this, she had gone out and purchased quite a few skirts – the pleated kind. Some were solid in color. Others were checkerboarded. And the color she chose to wear always indicated her mood. She had a soft pink checkboard one she wore when feeling flirtatious only. She had a red checkerboard one she wore when she felt mischievous. She had a solid white one she wore when she was feeling innocent. But on this night, her mood constantly wavering, she opted for the black checkerboard one – which always kept her state of mind a mystery.
Standing in front of the mirror on the wall, she checked her look one final time before grabbing her purse and her cell phone and dashing out of the house as quickly as she could before anyone got home. It wasn’t until she got out of the front door that she realized she hadn’t put anything on her feet. It was no matter, however. She couldn’t imagine he would be taking her out on the town that night. And even if he chose to, she had shoes and clothing over at his place.
Her bra and panties were indeed a matching set of baby pink, just as he had instructed her to wear. Her hair she let down on her shoulders as she started her car and backed out of the driveway.
Early evening traffic on a Friday was a bit heavier than in the day, but still manageable. Everyone was eager to blow off some steam from the work week past. Dakota felt the same way. She just wished that something would happen to snap her out of her funk. And she really didn’t feel right by going over to Dutch’s place and subjecting him to what could become an extremely torturous situation, should she really get in a foul mood that night.
Pulling up to a red light, she received a text message from Dutch.
Dutch: Unbutton your shirt down to your cleavage. I wanna see a little bra and a little titty when I open the front door.
Smiling while sticking her tongue into her right cheek, she opened the top three buttons of her shirt – allowing her cleavage to emerge as the light turned green and she stepped on the gas. She sped through the next five intersections, redefining the yellow lights to mean hurry up. And at the next red light she came to, she took a picture of the front of her torso – devilishly raising her right eyebrow, then sending it to him.
Another text message came through from him.
Dutch: Take your panties off and tuck them in the middle of your cleavage.
Dakota blushed a little, putting the car in park as she reached under her skirt and slid her panties down her legs. Taking them off her feet, she balled them up and stuffed them into the middle of her bra. Then she fluffed the ruffled edges, making her panties look like a pink rose.
At that moment, a car pulled up alongside her, two young guys sitting in the front seat. Their music was loud, with a heavy beat. Inconspicuously covering the panties on her chest with her left hand, she took the car out of park and gripped the steering wheel with her right hand. Looking straight ahead, she made no other body movements as to not draw the guys’ attentions.
But that was a failed endeavor.
“Hey, baby!” the guy in the passenger seat said, Dakota not looking at him and not reacting to him at all. “Hey!”
Dakota made no body movements, pretending she didn’t hear him.
“Hey!” the guy yelled again, the red light turning green and Dakota slamming on the gas.
But the car caught up next to her quickly.
“Fine then! Fuck you!” the guy in the passenger seat of that car said as they sped past her. “Go be fat somewhere else!”
Dakota’s eyes grew big and wide. What the heck was that? What was the point of saying that? Just because she didn’t say hello back as he bellowed his Hey in her direction, that meant it was necessary to insult her?
Well … there went her good mood. That was all it took. Now she would have to put on a happy face when she saw Dutch. From a day that had been very demanding at work, with current mood swings so severe that a pendulum would be jealous, after having put herself together in appearance and having seen the birth of arousal die from a rude statement … now she was supposed to walk up to Dutch’s front door and pretend as if nothing about this day had affected her at all.
Pulling into his driveway, she turned the car off and grew angry with tears – quickly getting ahold of herself before those tears streamed from her eyes, staining her cheeks and ruining her make-up. Getting out of her car, she grabbed her purse and cell phone, straightening herself up and walking to his front door. Her posture was perfect and though she was an angered mess inside, she looked as put-together and in control as possible. She had still pulled it off, despite the odds.
Knocking on his front door, she shrunk up her shoulders, checking the panties she had stuffed in her cleavage and pushing her locks back from the sides of her face. Closing her eyes, she took in one final deep breath and then exhaled. Dutch wasn’t the source of her anger and she needed to remind herself to not take anything out on him.
Continue on to Part Two
In the meantime, catch up on the story of Dakota in the first two Full Force books.
—————Full Force I: Dakota Full Force II: Dream Land Full Force III: Extreme – August 2017