Gigolo Girl

by Layce Gardner

  “What’s the code word?” the eyeball asked.

  “Code word?” Mildred panicked. Desiree hadn’t said anything about a code word.

  “Yes, you know the code word that goes with the secret knock.”

  “Oh, um…” Mildred tried to think fast. The only thing she could think of was the woman had a thing for the number two. “Two,” Mildred blurted.

  “Not so loud,” the eyeball said. “We don’t want everyone to hear the password. Then I’d have to change it and that would violate the rule of two.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Mildred thought it was a really stupid password. Who had ever heard of having a number for a password?

  The eyeball opened the door and Agatha Apple now had two enormous brown eyes. She was dressed in clothes almost identical to Mildred’s—beige Khaki pants and a white polo shirt. She wore penny loafers with two shiny pennies tucked in them. Agatha noticed Mildred staring at them. “They’re real pennies. Guess what year they are?”

  Mildred thought a moment. “Two thousand and two?”

  Agatha smiled big. She also had very large teeth. “We’re going to get along fine. Do come in. Would you like a drink?”

  “That would be wonderful,” Mildred said.

  “Sit down and I’ll be right back. Wine okay? I have a wonderful bottle of Pinot Gris from 2012.”

  “Yes, please.” Mildred didn’t know anything about wine but she’d make Milly Jean act as if she did. She tried to think like Milly Jean. Milly Jean would like wine and she’d remember that you held the wine glass by the stem as you sipped it. She did know that much from watching a movie called Sideways, about two middle-aged men touring the California wine country.

  Agatha returned with the wine. Mildred made sure to hold the stem as she sipped. Agatha gulped hers.

  “I’m sorry. I’m really nervous. You being a pro and all,” Agatha said.

  Mildred did not contradict her. If Agatha thought she was a pro perhaps anything Mildred did would look professional.

  Agatha swilled her wine and said, “I think I need a refill.” She went back to the kitchen. This time, she brought the wine bottle back out with her.

  “Can I sit next to you?” Agatha said.

  “I’d love that,” Mildred said. This was good. They could foreplay it on the couch. Desiree said you could never have too much foreplay. She’d said sometimes LBDs even had an orgasm during the foreplay.

  “I’m afraid I’m not very good at this,” Agatha said, her hand shaking while she poured more wine. “My partner, Suzanne, thinks we’re past having sex in our relationship. The problem is that I don’t know how to tell Esme that. It would break her heart.” Agatha hung her head and sniffled.

  Mildred thought now was a good time to hold Agatha’s hand. She’d comforted Greta a number of times over lost love. She was good at it. She picked up Agatha’s hand and stroked it, muttering, “There, there. It’s all right.”

  “I don’t want to leave Suzanne, but Esme keeps complaining and what am I supposed to tell her?” Agatha placed her hand in Mildred’s lap and let it lie there, as limp and warm as a sleeping puppy.

  “Well, now is Esme…” Mildred was at a loss here. Who on earth was Esme? A therapist or another girlfriend or…an imaginary friend? But certainly grown-ups didn’t have imaginary friends. Except there was that one movie Harvey where Jimmy Stewart had an invisible big white rabbit as his imaginary friend.

  “Esme and I have known each other since I was twelve,” Agatha continued.

  “I’m a bit confused here,” Mildred said. “Who exactly is Esme?”

  “Why, she’s my little friend,” Agatha said, coloring at the mention of her.

  Mildred mulled the little friend remark over and took a sip of wine. “You have a dwarf for a friend?”

  “No,” Agatha said with a confused look on her face.

  “So, who is Esme then?”

  “My vagina, of course,” Agatha said. “And she’s very excited to get to know you.”

  Agatha’s Little Friend

  Agatha leaned in close. Mildred’s head became clouded with the smell of expensive wine and expensive-er perfume. Desiree had taught her about perfume right after they got squirted by a salesgirl at Neiman Marcus. Desiree had told her that the right smell was very important. She said that a person’s olfactory sense was more important than anything else in the sexual department. Mildred had thought Desiree said hole-factory, not olfactory. Desiree didn’t bother to correct her—after all, it was kind of the same thing.

  Mildred resisted the urge to sneeze and said, “Esme is your vagina?”

  “Yes. And she’s an introvert,” Agatha said.

  “Mine’s an innie, too,” Mildred said. Now that she thought about it, she’d never known a vagina that was an outtie. Bellybuttons, yes. Vaginas, no. But she didn’t want to make Agatha (or Esme) embarrassed, so she didn’t say anything.

  “I don’t usually introduce her. In fact, my partner is the only other person who knows her name.” Agatha squinted her large eyes at Mildred’s lap and asked, “What’s your vagina’s name?”

  “Um…” Mildred said, squirming.

  “Now, don’t be shy. You can tell me.” Agatha put her hand on Mildred’s thigh and gently squeezed. “We’ll be getting to know each other, after all.” Apparently, Agatha was getting more confident with every sip of wine.

  Mildred thought really hard. Coming up with a name for a vagina was even trickier than coming up with a name for a puppy. Spot? Rover? Fido? Max? Ginger? None of those seemed appropriate. “My vagina’s name is…” that was when a jingle bounced into her head. She blurted. “Oscar.”

  Agatha seemed startled. “Well, that’s interesting. You have a male-identified vagina. Hunh, that is unusual. So does that mean you think of your vagina as a bisexual? Or is it trans? I’m afraid I’m not into all the latest politically correct terminology. I know nowadays there are bisexuals who are lesbian identified but married to men and bisexuals who are straight identified but married to women and I once heard of a lesbian who had a bisexual brain and a straight vagina. She lives alone. So tell me more about little Oscar.”

  Mildred only stared. She was totally at a loss.

  “Because that could be an issue,” Agatha said, pouring herself a third glass of wine. “Let’s just say… I want to go where no man has gone before.”

  “I just remembered! I left something in the car!” Mildred blurted.

  “Wha…?” Agatha said.

  Mildred tried to get her composure back. She smoothed her messy chignon, forced a smile, and said, “I shall return. I left a surprise for you in the car.”

  “A surprise?”

  “I’ll be right back.” Mildred headed for the door.

  “It’s not a something I should be concerned about is it?”

  “Don’t move a muscle. Tell Esme to have another glass of wine,” Mildred said with a wink.

  “Well, all right,” Agatha said, looking rather taken aback.

  Mildred closed the door behind her, raced down the stairs and out the front door of the building. She ran across the street, forgetting to look both ways for cars. Fortunately, she was not plowed down. She hopped in the red Jag and closed the door. She was panting and sweaty.

  Desiree scolded, “Sweet Jesus, you didn’t even look! You could have been run over. I had a friend in middle school who got run over crossing the street. A dog was chasing him and he ran into a busy street without looking,” Desiree said.

  “Help,” Mildred panted. “I need help.”

  “What happened?”

  “She wanted to know my vagina’s name.”

  “What?”

  “And I got stuck and then I said ‘Oscar’ and then…”

  “Wait a minute, why ‘Oscar’?”

  “I got the jingle stuck in my head ‘my bologna has a first name’ and then that made me think ‘My vagina has a first name…’”

  “Oh, my fucking God, my vagina has a first name, it’s
O-S-C-A-R,” Desiree said. And then she collapsed into laughter, slapping the steering wheel with her palms.

  “Desiree, this is serious. Now, she thinks I have a male-identified bisexual vagina with butch tendencies and she’s not so sure about that.”

  Desiree sputtered and gasped.

  “You really aren’t helping the situation,” Mildred said testily.

  “I’m sorry,” Desiree said, wiping her eyes. “I just don’t get lesbians. I mean, seriously? So you call your vagina Oscar. It’s your vagina you should be able to call it whatever you want.”

  “But I think she thinks that I think my vagina is a man centered vagina and evidently that’s a problem for her.” Mildred chewed her bottom lip.

  “Stop doing that. You’re smearing your lipstick.”

  Mildred burst into tears. “I’m no good at this. My very first second client and she doesn’t like my vagina.”

  Desiree took her in her arms. “Honey, it’s not you. It’s her. She’s the weirdo.”

  Mildred stopped crying and hiccupped. “Really? You think so?”

  “Yes, our clients have all sorts of odd hang-ups. Why do you think they have to pay for it?”

  “Well, okay, I guess you’re right but how am I going to smooth things over?”

  “You’re going to go up there and tell her the truth.”

  “What?” Mildred said. She was more confused than ever.

  “Look, you’re going to tell her that you got all flustered because your vagina doesn’t have a name. And then let her name your vagina. I guarantee you she’ll be putty in your hands or she’ll be your mama.”

  “My mama?” Mildred was horrified. “I don’t think my mama’s vagina has a name either.”

  “Not your mother-mama. I meant like take you in her arms and smooth away all your cares kind of mother. A sugar mama.”

  “Oh. But really, I should just go up there and confess?”

  “The truth can be a good thing—in moderation, of course.” Desiree handed Mildred a tissue. “Now here, wipe away those tears, put on more lipstick, and get back in the game.”

  Red Velvet Cake

  Mildred went back to the condo, knocked twice, paused, and knocked again. Once again, Agatha’s giant eyeball appeared through the crack in the door.

  “Oh, it’s you. Did you bring anything with you?” Agatha said.

  “Like what?” Mildred asked.

  “Sharp, pointed objects? Handguns? Bombs? Doritos?”

  Mildred shook her head. “Nope.”

  Mildred had no idea what made Agatha tick. She decided right then and there that she was going to going to put an anonymous note into the suggestion box at work. Well, first she would make a suggestion to make a suggestion box. Once the suggestion box was a reality, she would put a suggestion in it. And the suggestion would be: Give all potential clients a crazy test. Because she thought perhaps Agatha might be a little on the cray-cray side.

  “Oh, good, well, come in then.” Agatha opened the door wide.

  Mildred was barely inside the condo before Agatha slammed the door behind her. She grabbed Mildred’s face in both her hands and locked lips with her. She pushed Mildred up against the door with her pelvis and said, “Esme’s been thinking and she doesn’t care if you do have a bisexual, male-identified vagina.” She kissed Mildred again, hard, and handled her breasts like she was screwing in a light bulb.

  “Well, her name isn’t really Oscar,” Mildred tried to say, but Agatha’s tongue was exploring Mildred’s mouth while her hand undid two buttons of Mildred’s shirt and snuck inside. Agatha lightly pinched Mildred’s nipples through her lacy bra.

  “You have very nice breasts,” Agatha said.

  Mildred hoped she didn’t have to name them, too. She tried to explain the Oscar faux pas, but Agatha unzipped Mildred’s pants and tore them off her. Next, she stepped out of her own pants, took hold of Mildred’s hand and stuffed it into her panties where the warm and willing Esme greeted her with open arms.

  Maybe you’d like to go to the bedroom?” Mildred asked.

  Agatha answered by ripping off her own panties. Mildred followed suit.

  Agatha raised one leg and pushed Mildred’s fingers deep inside her. Esme was turning out to be quite the hostess.

  “Take me right here,” Agatha said, pressing into Mildred. “I want you now.”

  Obliging, Mildred pulled Agatha’s hips closer. She kissed Agatha’s neck, and nibbled her ear. Agatha groaned and thrust harder against her, grinding their pelvises together. Mildred was surprised to find herself getting a little hot and bothered.

  As if Agatha had read her mind, she growled, “You want some of this? You and your naughty Oscar?”

  “Her name…” but Mildred was stopped by Agatha’s tongue doing the tango inside her mouth. Then she felt Agatha grab Oscar. Then her fingers thrust inside Oscar. Mildred gasped.

  “Too much?” Agatha said.

  “No, it’s nice,” Mildred said, setting her groove to match Agatha’s thrusts. “Oh, very nice,” she grunted into Agatha’s neck. That spurred Agatha on. She grabbed Mildred’s thighs and lifted her up off the floor and wrapped them around her waist, pumping into her harder.

  Damn, the woman was strong, Mildred thought before her thoughts stopped and sensations took over.

  Agatha exploded first. Mildred felt the reverberations shake her own body. Her own orgasm followed soon after. Agatha screamed Oscar’s name. “Oh, yes, Oscar, do it to me more. I need more.”

  Agatha was evidently a multiple orgasm woman. Mildred ran her thumb over Agatha’s sweet spot and pushed inside again. She teased Esme with her fingers, taking it slower this time.

  Agatha’s Esme was hungry and it was Mildred’s job to feed her. Agatha exploded a second time, rocking against Mildred’s pumping hand.

  Agatha pulled her hand out of Mildred’s panties, turned her around and pressed her against the door. She took Mildred from behind, thrusting against her ass and pushing her fingers inside Mildred with such ferocity that Mildred moaned aloud.

  “Oh my goodness,” Mildred said, as she collapsed in Agatha’s arms. She was spent—wrung out like a wet dishcloth.

  “That was amazing,” Agatha said, her eyes bright and hungry. “I felt so powerful. So in charge of Esme and Oscar. I think they like each other, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I think they do,” Mildred said, breathing hard and trying to straighten out her clothing.

  “Let’s go have some red velvet cake,” Agatha said. “Usually, I have to watch my weight but I know I burned some calories with that escapade. Did you know that you burn about 400 calories between heavy petting and actual orgasm? That equals one small piece of cake.”

  “Okie dokie,” Mildred said. It was true that she was hungry from all that hard work. And red velvet cake was her favorite. She followed Agatha to the kitchen. She felt a little strange, being pantless in a kitchen. It didn’t seem sanitary. Did they even make hairnets for vaginas?

  Being pantless didn’t seem to bother Agatha, though. She opened the cake-saver Tupperware and stuck her finger inside and scooped up a big blob of red frosting. She turned to Mildred and ordered, “Take your shirt off.”

  “I’m not that messy of an eater,” Mildred protested.

  “Do as I say.”

  “Okie dokie,” Mildred said, thinking about how Agatha was beginning to sound like some crazed drill sergeant—like the Great Santini of sexual exploits.

  Agatha walked over to Mildred and thoroughly coated Mildred’s nipples with the frosting. She swirled it round and round until it looked as if Mildred had bright red areolas. Next, Agatha took of her own shirt and bra, and smeared frosting around her own nipples. “Eat it,” she said pointing her extra red titties at Mildred. “This has always been a fantasy of mine.”

  “It’s good to have dreams,” Mildred said, leaning forward and sucking both frosting and nipple. Agatha moaned then put her hands on Mildred’s shoulders and pushed her down to the floor.r />
  The next thing Mildred knew Agatha was sitting on top of her and riding her like Hopalong Cassidy, saying the same thing over and over, “Yippy kai yay, Yippy kai yay.”

  By the time they were done, Mildred had the imprint of grout lines from the floor tiles up and down her back, red frosting smeared everywhere below her neck and knew exactly what the term ‘fucked silly’ felt like.

  A phone went off somewhere in the house and Agatha got up. She strode across the kitchen and into another room. The phone silenced. Agatha returned. Mildred still lay prone, wondering if she could stand up. Her legs were all twitchy.

  “I’m afraid you have to go,” Agatha said, looking down at her. “Suzanne is on her way home.” She gave Mildred a helping hand up.

  Mildred gathered her clothes and quickly put them on. Agatha laughed and held up a pair of panties. “I think these are yours.”

  “Thank you,” Mildred said, tucking them into the pocket of her Capri pants.

  Suddenly, Agatha dashed at her and swooped her up in her arms. She held Mildred tight. “You’re wonderful. You made me feel so good about myself. I want you to come back. Promise me?”

  “Okie dokie,” Mildred said, squeezing back. “I had a great time.”

  “You liked it, really?”

  “Oh, yes. You’re very talented in the bedroom… I mean, in the kitchen and entryway department.”

  Agatha giggled. “I was a bit of a naughty girl, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes, you were,” Mildred said, slapping her on the butt. “You were a dirty birdie.”

  Mildred left with Agatha still giggling wickedly behind her. As Mildred walked to the elevator, she wondered if she had awakened an insatiable monster in Agatha. What if opening Esme was like opening Pandora’s box?

  Black And Blue And Red All Over

  “What the hell happened to you?” Desiree asked as Mildred got in the car.

  “Too much,” Mildred said. Her mouth felt bruised and swollen. So did Oscar.

  “Are you bleeding? Is that blood?” Desiree asked with panic in her voice.