Sunday morning. We sit around while Dana watches the TV news and tries to ignore me. I take that as a challenge as I sit beside her, swinging my legs and showing her my popsicle toes.
Hey, Cupcake, I say. I just got my legs waxed. They feel so nice.
I rub my legs and look at her and say, Feel them! I put her hand on my calf and she rubs it and smiles at me and I run my lips around my mouth.
Dana sighs. You win, Fanci. Have it your way.
She picks me up. She is strong for a little 5’6″ woman and I have lost a lot of weight. Her hands are under my butt and my legs wrapped around her as she carries me into the bedroom among giggles and yelling.
HELP! I yell. RAAAPE!
Shut up, Dana says angrily.
She deposits me on the bed on my back. She pulls my shorts down roughly and gets on me and that is that.
Then Came Johnson
Wouldn’t you love to see Sabrina? Dana asks me out of the blue.
No, I say, shoveling down breakfast. I really wouldn’t.
If, like me you have to starve yourself for extended periods you know that sometimes when you get a taste of real food, you really eat. This morning Dana has scrambled eggs with parmesan and made toast with real butter.
Hey! Dana says sharply. Watch that! Remember your figure.
OK, I say, slurping coffee with half and half.
You wouldn’t like to see Sabrina?
Good. I’ll have her fly out here.
Sabrina is the therapist I had to see to get an okay to get breasts. We’d seen each other, with Dana’s encouragement, as friends. Then Sabrina had crushed on me and we’d made love and she had fallen for me. I like Sabrina but I like my life now even more and she’d just be a pain in the ass.
You’re Sabrina’s gf, i’m not, Dana says judiciously. You ought to act like it.
You need to take her to bed. When she gets here i’ll discreetly withdraw and you should take her to bed. Act like the sweetest, most submissive little slut she’s ever seen, like you do with me. She’ll feel like the meanest, toughest bitch in the world. That’s how you make me feel.
Good, I say, and burp. RU gonna fuck her too?
I would not, Dana says, genuinely shocked. I wouldn’t. She’s not even lesbian. She just fancies you.
I know. The Crying Game. But that comparison is becoming objectionable.
Well I didn’t make it, Dana says.
I’ll have to entertain her.
All three of us can go to a movie. And I can take her shopping and you wont even have to go. But it’d be nice if you did.
To hold you guys’ purses. And mine, I say.
I said you don’t have to go, Fanci.
I would like to see some movies, I say, yawning and stretching. What i’d like is to go to those movies downtown-the dirty ones.
Dana wrinkles her nose. I know where that is.
Yes. Down the street is the Gay Paree cinema where the queer boys go. Have you seen the movie section? They have a double feature. California Hunk, then Five in the Attic-All Male Negroes.
She laughs and I laugh and we laugh till we choke. Then I say, What I want to see is at the straight one. Another double. The Purple Head of Cairo, and Then Came Johnson.
Where do they come up with these titles, she says.
Imagination, I say. Anyway i’d love it if we’d watch it and you and Sabrina would sit on either side of me and feel me up really good. Be rough. I’d love that.
It’s okay with me, she says.
Ooooh, I say. My tummy hurts.
You deserve it, Dana says with a nasty laugh.
I hurry to the bathroom and deposit two big floating logs in the crapper and hope they will flush. They do. Since I’ve been on this high fiber diet I go in the bathroom every morning and come out a new woman.
Shopping With the Girls
I don’t mind shopping with the girls at all. In fact i’m getting a taste for it. I just hate shopping malls. And since women are women Dana and Sabrina cackle like hens and exclude me from the conversation the way women do men and I tolerate the boredom. For one thing I have everything so there’s nothing for me to shop for. But Dana keeps buying Sabrina all kinds of chic clothes that I know Sabrina cant afford. That’s sweet, because Sabrina is not rich, and Dana did ask her to come here.
But they make me feel useful by making me hold their purses while they try on clothes and ask me if I like what they have on. I knew it would be like this so in the spirit of things I dressed like a slob, just to remind myself of the ad hoc hierarchy. When I get a chance I find a deserted bathroom and sit in a stall. I get a powdered Oxycontin from my purse and snort it, then have a slug of vodka from the flask and finally chew a Vicodin like Dr. House.
Thus fortified I throw my purse over my shoulder and whistle a happy tune and go out to where the girls are waiting. They want me to hold their purses while they powder their nose, so I sit on a deserted bench and enjoy the rush i’m getting. I hardly notice an old fart in a baseball cap sit down on the same bench. He is lonely and wants conversation and I try to politely ignore him but he wont take a hint and just goes right on yapping about celebs and what they are like IRL, all in this quasi British accent. That’s a strange thing for a guy to talk about but maybe he thinks that’s the way to get in this chickie’s pants. He sure is stealing looks at my cleavage, but then I wore this top so i’d get looked at.
He finally gets to the point, which is that he gives great foot rubs and how he’s rubbed the feet of the stars.
You’d be surprised some of the things I’ve seen, he burbles. You learn to knock on the door first.
And to keep your eyes down when you’re on the job, I say wryly.
Now look here, he says. They’re all good types. All of them.
Right, I say. Lowering my voice, I say, What about the toe jam?
Do you think it smells better than yours? Or mine?
He laughs a brittle laugh. Oh, I say, he goes on, eyes darting. You’re a salty one.
Keep it, I say thoughtfully. You could sell it, don’t you think? If you were doing Jennifer Aniston there’d be a lot of money in her toe jam.
Why that’s nasty, he says. Very nasty indeed.
Then there’s the toenails. Did you hear of this slasher that used to pluck the toenails from his victims and keep them in a coffee can?
I’ve had enough, he protests. Quite enough.
Or their farts, I go on. Ever consider that? Their farts are totally wasted. If you had an airtight bag and were quick enough to trap their farts there’d be a fortune in it. Take Heath Ledger, now that he’s dead. Why, if you had one of his farts trapped in an airtight container…
I refuse to listen to any more. I’m not listening!
You’re a servile little turd, I say, knocking his baseball cap off his head. Hear me? A servile little turd.
I’m being a very bad girl. At that moment Dana and Sabrina emerge from the bathroom and I join them. We go to the dirty movies and sit on either side of me. Sabrina’s feeling up of my tits is sheer poetry. They feel me up until I am ready to cry in the middle of Then Came Johnson, until finally Dana has the decency to pull me off. I stifle a scream by turning it into a cough and Dana gets a tissue from her purse and cleans up.
While Dana sits outside Sabrina and I go to the little girls’ room and talk.
I need a big favor, Sabrina, I say.
Anything for you, she sighs.
I have to move to NYC to model full time. I want you to come with us and baby sit Dana and keep her out of trouble, I say, and wait anxiously for her response.