Robert knew he was smiling. That was the first thing that bothered him.

He was sitting on a tall wooden stool in an elegant bar, his legs crossed, a glass of white wine held delicately between his fingers. He wore a royal-blue dress, a matching blue jacket that fell almost to his knees, sheer dark stockings, and glossy black pumps. His long blond hair hung over his shoulders. On his head sat a peculiar silver helmet decorated with little blue and pink ornaments, wires, and what looked suspiciously like electronic sensors.

He was smiling as if he hadn't a care in the world.

I'm not this cheerful, he thought desperately. I'm not even sure I want to be here. And why can't I stop smiling?

He tried to relax his mouth. Nothing happened. He tried to frown. His lips remained curved upward, his cheeks raised in a perfectly natural-looking expression of happiness.

Across from him sat Paul, dressed in a striking red outfit: a fitted red dress, a matching jacket, sheer dark stockings, and black heels. A little black quilted handbag hung from his shoulder. A silver helmet, nearly identical to Robert's, rested on his head. Paul was holding a cocktail with a slice of lime floating in it, and he looked every bit as delighted as Robert.

Paul, Robert realized, was probably experiencing exactly the same nightmare.

"Honestly, Robert, darling, that blue is absolutely gorgeous on you!" Paul exclaimed.

Robert's mouth opened before he could decide whether to speak.

"And that red is spectacular on you, Paul! It really brings out your eyes."

Darling? Spectacular? What is happening to me?

"Thank you!" Paul replied brightly. "I thought the jacket was a little bold at first, but now I think it's just what the outfit needed."

Robert felt his own head nod enthusiastically.

"No, no, the jacket is perfect. And the handbag! Simply perfect."

I don't know anything about handbags! I don't even know how to carry one properly!

His hand shifted slightly, bringing the wineglass toward his lips. He took a sip, set it down, and crossed his legs in a manner that seemed completely effortless. Every movement was smooth, graceful, and unhurried.

Robert was painfully conscious of each one.

He could feel his fingers against the glass. He could feel the fabric of his dress against his thighs. He could feel the slight pressure of the helmet against his scalp. He could think whatever he pleased, but his body paid no attention to his wishes.

Someone is doing this to us. Someone has to be.

He tried to raise his hand toward the helmet. His fingers twitched.

For one glorious second, he thought he might be able to remove it.

Instead, his hand picked up his wineglass.

"To good taste!" he declared.

Paul laughed, a bright, musical laugh that Robert was certain he had never heard coming out of his own mouth before.

"To good taste!"

They clinked their glasses together.

Oh, this is going to be a very long evening.

Paul was having similar thoughts.

He had discovered that the worst part wasn't being made to wear the dress, the stockings, the heels, or even the handbag. Those things were alarming enough, but at least they were things he could see and understand.

The worst part was knowing exactly what he was doing while being utterly incapable of choosing to do anything else.

He could feel his smile stretching his face. He could feel his eyebrows lifting in a coy expression. He could feel himself turning his head just so, as if inviting the room to admire his profile.

He didn't want to invite anybody to admire anything.

Yet when a man at the bar glanced in his direction, Paul's eyes met his.

Paul's gaze lingered.

He tilted his head, smiled a little more warmly, and lifted his cocktail in a tiny, playful salute.

The man smiled back.

Paul's stomach tightened.

No! Don't encourage him! Look away! Look at the wall! Look at Robert!

His eyes remained fixed on the stranger for another moment before gliding away with practiced elegance.

Robert noticed.

"Oh, Paul!" he said, sounding delightfully amused. "I think someone has caught your eye."

"Perhaps," Paul replied. "But I haven't decided whether he's handsome enough to deserve my attention."

I haven't decided anything! I don't even want to be deciding!

Robert giggled.

The sound horrified him more than almost anything else that had happened so far.

I do not giggle.

He tried to clear his throat, hoping to disrupt the strange rhythm of his imposed behavior. His mouth opened.