Flesh For Fantasy

by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

  “Really?”

  “I don’t think you’re ready for something too ultra, if you know what I mean. Let’s keep this gentle, a small step for starters. You can always get more-so the next time.”

  Ellen gazed at the model’s picture in the magazine. She was beautiful, but she also had a look, like she understood it all. “That’s the look you’re after,” Maggie said. “That confidence. I think Ashley’s right. No drastic changes, just enhancements and a new attitude that can only come when you’re happier about yourself.”

  Not knowing that Maggie was talking, Ashley picked up one of Ellen’s hands. “One more thing. You really must get a hand-spa treatment and then have your nails done. I’d recommend wraps in this climate.”

  “Wraps? Claws?”

  “Not at all. I would suggest what we call street-length just over the tips of your fingers. With maybe a soft mauve polish but we’ve got more than a hundred shades to choose from.”

  “Say yes, Ellen,” Maggie said. “Just say yes.”

  “I guess,” Ellen gulped.

  “Hair and nails?” Ashley asked.

  Maggie raised her ever-ready eyebrow and Ellen took a deep breath. “Hair and nails.”

  Maggie squeezed Ellen’s shoulder. “Good girl. You’ll be glad you did. I promise.”

  “Right.”

  “Right,” Ashley said, a bit puzzled.

  Maggie waved to Ellen and, as she watched, her friend faded away. Her friend. Ellen realized that, in just a few hours, Maggie had become just that. A friend. It still shocked her to see the evidence of Maggie’s ghostly existence but she was rapidly getting used to it, or as used to it as she could.

  Several hours later, Ellen was gazing at her new look when she saw Maggie slowly reappear. “Wow,” Maggie said. “You look fantastic. Ashley was right. You look like you’ve just come back from a long vacation. The hair’s perfect.”

  “Yeah,” Ellen whispered. “It is, isn’t it.” Ellen had been staring at her reflection in the long mirror for several minutes. She wasn’t beautiful. Far from it. But she was classy. Stylish. She looked put together somehow. Ashley had darkened her hair until it was the color of ranch mink and cut and shaped it until it lay sleek against her jaw. She had also used her makeup skills to highlight Ellen’s cheekbones and bring out her deep green eyes. As Ellen stared she had to admit that with the way Ashley had done her lipstick she did have a sexy lower lip. “Ellen,” Maggie said, “you look sensational.”

  “Yeah,” Ellen breathed. She held up her hands, short, slender fingers tipped with comfortable-length soft mauve nails. “Yeah.” For the second time that day Ellen pulled out her credit card without worrying about how much she was charging.

  On the way home, Maggie and Ellen stopped at a shoe store and selected several new pairs of pumps and three new pocketbooks to match. Then, just when Ellen thought they were done and that she was juggling as many packages as she could carry, Maggie dragged her into a leather shop and over to a rack of buttery soft cream-colored leather vests with brown bone buttons. She pointed to one. “Try that on. I think it will look great over most of what you’ve just bought.”

  Ellen had long since given up arguing, so she stacked her purchases on a bench, slipped off her yellow vest and slid her arms into the leather one. “Oh. This feels so good,” Ellen purred, rubbing her hand up and down the front.

  From behind her, a low-pitched male voice said softly, “Yes, it does, doesn’t it. It looks like it was made for you.”

  Ellen blushed and said nothing, assuming the voice came from a store clerk. “I’ll think about it.” She looked at the price tag and blanched. She really liked the vest, but she wasn’t going to get shilled by some fast-talking salesman, although, if he worked on commission, she didn’t blame him for trying to talk her into buying it.

  “Your choice of course,” the man said, “but I think you should take it.”‘ He moved from behind a rack of jackets. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with deep brown eyes, sandy, sun-streaked hair that he wore pulled back in a short tail and a long, sandy mustache. His rugged, not-really-handsome face was deeply tanned, as though he spent quite a bit of time in the sun. No, Ellen thought, not handsome, but friendly and warm, attractive in its openness. Over his tan slacks and plaid sport shirt, he was wearing a brown leather jacket with brass buttons. “Now that you’ve heard my opinion, I’d like yours. What do you think of this jacket?” It was cut like a sports jacket, but fashioned of deep tan leather that was as soft as fabric. “It’s a bit pricey but I really like it. Should I take it?” He turned so she could see the back and sides.

  Ellen was nonplussed. “You’re thinking of buying it?”

  Her confusion must have shown on her face because he said, “You don’t like it.” He slipped the jacket off and started toward the rack from which he had obviously taken it.

  “Actually, I do like it. It’s really quite becoming.” She fumbled for words. “I’m sorry. I thought you worked here and were trying to talk me into purchasing something.”

  His sudden smile made his face even more attractive. “Oh. I get it. No. I don’t work here. I have been gazing at this jacket in the window for weeks and I finally decided to come inside and try it on.” He slipped it back onto his shoulders. “You really like it?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “At these prices, it should come with two pairs of pants. I almost dropped when I saw the cost, but what the heck. You only live once. I just got a bonus and I thought I’d treat myself.” He stopped talking. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

  “Not at all. And you’re right. You do only live once. I’m going to buy this vest and I think you should get the jacket.”

  He looked at the price tag again, then shrugged. “I’m glad you’re getting that vest. It suits you.”

  “Thanks.” Ellen struggled to find something to say as the man slipped the jacket off, draped it over his arm and walked toward the cash register.

  Maggie chimed in, “This is your chance to try out the new you. Keep him talking. He’s really cute.”

  “What should I say?” she whispered.

  “How about asking his name?”

  Ellen trailed after the man, fumbling in her purse for her wallet. “What’s your name?” Ellen blurted out, then blanched.

  The man’s smile was bright. “I’m Jim Lucas. And yours?”

  “Ellen. Ellen Harold.” She slipped the vest off. “Thanks for the advice.” He pulled out a credit card and it was only moments before the transaction was completed and he had the jacket in a box under his arm. As he walked away, Ellen found her credit card and gave it to the salesclerk, then, while he was ringing up the sale, she gathered her shopping bags.

  “Ellen,” Jim called.

  Swallowing, Ellen turned and said, “Yes?”

  “Don’t forget this,” he said, holding the bright yellow vest she had left draped over the rack.

  “Oh yeah, thanks again.” She stuffed the vest he handed her in one of her shopping bags, then signed the credit-card receipt. Leaving the store, Jim held the door for her. “I live just around the corner, so if you live in the area, maybe we’ll run into each other again.”

  “Maybe we will,” Ellen said, moving so Maggie could exit the store behind her. As Jim turned south, Ellen turned north.

  “Just great,” Maggie said as they approached Ellen’s building, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “A cute, sexy guy tries to pick you up and what do you do? Nothing. Not a damn thing. So much for the new you.”

  “I couldn’t let him pick me up. It’s not right. It’s not safe. He could have been a creep, a thief, a molester.”

  “Right. And he could have been a millionaire, a diplomat, who knows. You could have encouraged him a bit. You didn’t have to invite him to your apartment, but you could have made conversation. Maybe he would have asked you out for a drink.”

  “Maggie, new me or old me, I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t let men pick me up.”

&nbs
p; Maggie sighed and threw up her hands. “Okay, okay. I hear you. I’ll be patient. You’ll come around.”

  “Maybe I won’t ever be the kind of woman you have in mind,” Ellen said, opening the front door of her building.

  “Listen, I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to snap at you. You’re right. You can only be who you are. I know there’s someone really special under all that insecurity, and I’m just impatient for you to try your wings.”

  “Maybe there isn’t,” Ellen said, stopping at the foot of the stairs, her shoulders slumped. “Maybe I’m just the same old me with a new hairdo. New paint doesn’t make the basic structure any different.”

  “I know it’s been only twenty-four hours, but I think I already know you pretty well. The more adventurous you is in there somewhere. I’ll relax and stop pushing.”

  “Thanks. I wish I were as sure of me as you are.”

  “I understand and on that note, I’ll leave you for tonight. You look tired and the day’s been full of changes and you need time to adjust, get used to the new you, at least on the outside. I’ll see you, well I don’t know exactly when I’ll see you again, but it will be soon. I’ll be around.”

  As Maggie faded into the stygian darkness that always preceded her periods of inactivity, she could hear voices in her mind. “She’s going to be a tough case,” she heard Lucy say. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  “And it’s not just sex, Maggie,” Angela’s voice added. “You’ve got to get her to understand about being a woman. About getting involved in the world, not just peeking out at it.”

  “I know, ladies,” Maggie muttered. “I know.”

  The following morning, Ellen received her weekly package from the doctors in Fairmont and for two days she dutifully coded and entered the data into her computer. Finally she uploaded the completed information to the medical database and e-mailed the files to the doctor’s office.

  Saturday Ellen wore one of her new outfits as she wandered around Manhattan, trying to feel confident, assured, and classy, with limited success. She looked around her with a more open mind, aware that there were things in New York that she wanted to try that she hadn’t previously thought about because Micki hadn’t mentioned them. She made a mental note to find out the schedule of the ferry to the Statue of Liberty and the one to the renovated Ellis Island. They were both touristy places to visit, but she was, after all, a tourist and she was curious.

  Finding herself at the Hudson River, she decided to visit the Air and Space Museum and found herself fascinated by the military hardware on display. Late in the afternoon, as she walked east, she felt her stomach rumble. As she approached her building, she spotted a small Indian restaurant. She heard Maggie’s voice asking, ‘Have you ever done anything daring, just because you were curious?’ She had never tried Indian food, always afraid it would be too spicy, but today, she stopped and gazed at the posted menu. “I have no idea what most of this stuff is,” she muttered.

  “Then maybe I can help you,” a familiar voice said.

  She whirled around and saw the man whom she had encountered in the leather shop. Today he was wearing black jeans, a black shirt, and the tan leather jacket she remembered from the store. He wore high-heeled intricately tooled black cowboy boots so he was several inches taller than she was. “I’m sorry?” He was quite nice-looking and shouldn’t have made her nervous, she thought, but he did.

  “You said you know nothing about Indian food,” he said. “I come here often and I was just stopping here for dinner myself. I thought that maybe, if you were alone, I could join you and help you with the menu.”

  “I’m afraid I’m on my way somewhere.”

  “Now I’m the one who’s sorry. I took your advice and bought this jacket, now I thought you could take mine and enjoy Indian food. I’m Jim. Jim Lucas.” He held out his hand.

  “I remember,” Ellen said, flustered and blushing slightly. “I’m Ellen.” She shook his soft, uncallused hand. Although he looked like a cowboy, she would bet he had never done any manual labor in his life.

  “I remember you, too, Ellen.” He dropped her hand quickly after the handshake. “Are you sure you must run off? I can see I make you a bit nervous and I don’t blame you. Here I am trying to pick you up in the middle of a dangerous city. I guess you’re right to be careful, but I was hoping, since this is our second meeting…” His smile was charming.

  Suddenly Ellen heard Maggie’s voice in her head. “He’s not asking you to come to his apartment. It’s a public restaurant. What harm could it do?”

  “It could do a lot of harm,” Ellen answered.

  Jim’s face fell. “I understand. I had hoped I looked harmless. I am, you know. Divorced, unattached, employed, charming.” He paused. “Lonely.” His look managed to combine Don Juan and Lassie.

  In spite of herself, Ellen started to laugh. “I guess I’m just being overly cautious. I’m sorry. You really are being quite nice.” Ellen heard Maggie’s applause, then the sound faded.

  “Hooray,” Jim said. “Does that mean you’ll let me buy you dinner? I can explain all the nuances of the menu. Have you ever had Indian food before?”

  “No.” Ellen was again completely flustered. “I mean, no, I’ve never had Indian food before but yes, I’d love to join you for dinner. And no, you can’t buy me dinner but we can go dutch.”

  Smiling, Jim nodded. “Wonderful.” He placed his hand in the small of Ellen’s back and guided her down the few steps into the small dining area. The restaurant seated about three dozen, with soft beige linen tablecloths and candle-lamps on each table. Since it was still early, they had their choice of tables and Jim chose a well-lit table off to one side. Ellen was glad he hadn’t chosen something dark and secluded.

  When Ellen was seated, Jim said, “They don’t have a liquor license so we’ll have to settle for herb tea, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Sure,” Ellen said, interlacing her fingers in her lap so she’d have something to do with her hands. During the moment’s silence that followed, Ellen’s mind churned. What should she say? How should she act? Should she have let him pay for dinner? She reached for her water glass but her hands were shaking so hard that she was sure she’d spill something so she replaced her hands in her lap, fumbling with her napkin.

  “Listen, Ellen,” Jim said, “it doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re really nervous about this. You look like a cornered animal ready to bolt at the first wrong move. How can I help you to relax?”

  “I’m relaxed,” Ellen protested.

  “Right. And you always shred your napkin in Indian restaurants.”

  Ellen looked down and saw that the paper in her lap was torn into several long strips. She had the good grace to smile, weakly. “I’m sorry. This isn’t the real me, I guess. I’m not much for dating.”

  “So what is the real you?”

  “I’m a solitary person, quite used to eating alone. And I’m certainly not used to being picked up by strange men.”

  Jim raised an eyebrow the same way Maggie did. “I don’t think I’m that strange.”

  Ellen laughed nervously. “I didn’t mean that. Oh, damn. I’m a wreck. I have no clue what to say, how to act, what to do.” At that moment, the waiter brought two cups of steaming tea.

  After the brief reprieve, Jim said, “Why don’t you do what you want, say what you think, and let’s see what happens? You said that you don’t date often.”

  “I don’t date at all, really.”

  “I can’t imagine why not. Are you new to the city?”

  “I’m from upstate. I came into a little money and I decided to visit here.” Surprisingly, she talked for several minutes, responding to Jim’s gentle, non-intimate questions. “Now that you know the basics about me how about telling me a little about you,” Ellen said, more interested than she cared to admit to herself.

  “I’m thirty-eight and, as I told you before, divorced. No children. My ex didn’t want any.”
/>   “And you did?”

  “I didn’t at first, but then over the two years Carrie and I were married, I realized that, to her, children meant permanence, something she didn’t really want, and I did. Slowly it dawned on me that we were looking for totally different things so we split just over a year ago.”

  “Was it difficult?”

  “Not nearly as difficult as I thought it was going to be, but I’m still not used to Saturdays. When you’re married, you always have a date for Saturday night. When you’re alone, the empty Saturdays become a symbol of something, so when I don’t have other plans, I eat out.” He hesitated, then continued, “To be honest I lied when I said I was planning on having dinner here. I hadn’t decided where to eat so when I saw you heading across town I hoped you were alone. I’ll admit I was looking for an excuse to talk to you again, so when you paused in front of The Flower of India, I said I was planning to eat here. I was anxious for company and hoped you were, too.”

  He was a nice man, neither a molester nor a millionaire. Just a lonely guy looking for company. Ellen suddenly realized that she was lonely, too, and was glad to have someone to share a little time with. Usually she was content with her own company, but now she found she was enjoying having someone to talk to. “Actually, the company’s nice for a change.” When the waiter arrived, he and Jim carefully explained many of the dishes on the menu. “I don’t think I like spicy food,” Ellen confessed.

  “Most of the dishes here can be prepared anywhere from mild to spicy,” the waiter explained with a heavy Indian accent.

  “Why don’t we order the assorted appetizers and two main dishes? That way you can sample several different things. I’ll get a few of my favorite condiments, too. Are you game?”

  Am I game? she thought. “Sure. Why don’t you pick two things you like and I’ll sample everything?”

  Jim ordered several items and the conversation flowed easily until the plate of appetizers arrived. The waiter placed it in the center of the table, then carefully wiped two small plates and placed one in front of each of them. Jim pointed to a chunk of bright-red meat. “This is tandoori chicken, an Indian specialty. A tandoor is a clay oven that bakes whatever you put inside, usually chicken, lamb, or shrimp marinated in yogurt.” He leaned forward and whispered, conspiratorially, “It’s frequently very dry because the chicken is cooked without the skin. It’s one of my least favorite meats but in small bits it’s not too bad.”