Gigolo Girl

by Layce Gardner

  “Oooh, I like that. What’s an alpaca?” Mildred asked.

  “I’m not totally sure, but I think it’s like a llama’s cousin,” Desiree said.

  “But aren’t most of those under-developed countries hot?” Mildred said. “Why would I send them sweaters?”

  “I didn’t tell them you were a smart business woman,” Desiree said.

  “What did you tell them you did for a living?”

  They moved away from the bar as a group of leatherettes jostled and elbowed their way up, giving them sideways looks.

  “I said I was a therapist for troubled cats.”

  “Cats?” Mildred said.

  “Anything to do with animals will get you in here.”

  “Oh. Do those chains going from their mouths to their ears hurt?” Mildred was staring at the leatherettes.

  “Uh, I don’t know, but don’t stare. They get uptight if people stare,” Desiree said.

  “How can people not stare?”

  “I know, right?” Desiree took Mildred’s arm. “Let’s go find the others. There’s power in numbers.”

  *

  Candy Sweet stood up and waved at them. She wore a gold lame dress with a slit up the side that made everyone stop in their tracks to sneak a peek at the well-toned legs inside the dress. Her boobs were hoisted up into the low-cut front. It seemed more of her was out of the dress than in—and she looked spectacular. Her blonde Beyonce wig showed off her ebony skin. Her girlfriend, Roni, was dressed in a black and white pinstripe zoot suit. Roni looked a lot like Jim Carrey in The Mask (without the green skin).

  “Aren’t they adorable?” Mildred asked.

  “Absolutely,” Desiree said. It was hard to tell whether Roni was a male who was lesbian identified or a lesbian who was male-identified. Then again, Roni could have been a bisexual who was married to a man but loved lesbians. It was very confusing. But if the Big Tent Ballyhoo was all about exclusive inclusiveness then Desiree didn’t give a shit if Roni had a penis in her pants or in her chest of drawers—as long as she loved Candy Sweet and treated her right.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you guys are here. I wanted you to meet Roni. Isn’t she just to die for?” Candy Sweet wrapped herself around Roni. She was glowing with champagne and happiness.

  Desiree felt a sharp pang in her chest. Her inner voice scolded, “See, if you weren’t such a chickenshit, you could have that kind of love, too.” Her inner voice was a real bitch and sounded just like Meryl Streep’s character in The Devil Wears Prada.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Desiree said, and shook Roni’s hand.

  “The pleasure is all mine,” Roni said.

  “This is Mildred,” Candy Sweet said. “She’s the new girl.”

  Mildred shook hands with Roni and smiled.

  “You better take good care of her,” Desiree told Roni. “I don’t want to have to come after you with my attack poodle.”

  They all laughed.

  “Oh, I will,” Roni replied. “No worries there.”

  “So, where are the others?” Desiree asked. She was a little nervous. She noticed the organic cotton-wearers were in a huddle and giving them the stink eye.

  “Fessa had a wardrobe malfunction so Velvet Thrust is giving her a hand,” Candy Sweet said.

  “What sort of a malfunction?” Desiree asked.

  Candy Sweet leaned in and whispered, “She split the back of her dress. It’s this wonderfully tight sexy black number that is so cute, but it has this kind of tail part and when she got in the car it caught in the door and ripped most of the ass of her dress.”

  Mildred grew bug-eyed. “How are they going to fix that?”

  “She’s hiding in a bathroom stall while Velvet Thrust gets a sewing kit from the front desk.”

  “Can’t she just go home and get another dress?” Mildred asked.

  She’d never get back here because she couldn’t figure out what to wear. She has a problem with making decisions,” Candy Sweet said.

  Roni put in her two cents worth, “Just like a femme.”

  “Fessa is worse, belive me,” Candy said.

  “How does she figure out what to wear on dates with her clients?” Mildred asked.

  “She just wears a mink coat with nothing on underneath,” Desiree said. “Saves on money and time.”

  “Oh,” Mildred said. It sounded like a more upscale version of her pink robe.

  At that moment, The D.J. put on a dance mix of Beyonce’s “If I Were a Boy.” Candy Sweet grabbed Roni’s hand and dragged her to the dance floor, saying, “Come on, this is our song!”

  Desiree watched them dance. It was obvious they didn’t see anyone but each other. She didn’t like to admit it, but she was jealous. She looked longingly at Mildred. What would their song be if they had one?

  What Does The Fox Say?

  As Mildred sipped champagne and swayed to the music, Desiree scanned the crowd. One of the leatherettes stared at Mildred with more than a passing interest. Desiree glared at the woman until she backed down.

  Mildred noticed Desiree’s scowl. “Desiree, is something wrong?”

  Desiree snapped back to attention and pasted a smile on her face for Mildred’s benefit. “No, why?”

  “You don’t look like you’re having a very good time.”

  “It’s just sometimes I don’t know why I come to this event, you know. I don’t like most of the people here.”

  “Why do you bother then? If I didn’t like it, I’d stay home.”

  Mildred’s simplicity and her country girl practicality oftentimes hit things spot on. Maybe it was her outsider’s perspective. The glam and glitter of Bon Chance was still new to her and so she saw things as they actually were while the rest of them were so inured they no longer noticed. It was like living somewhere beautiful like Colorado or Hawaii and no longer marveling at the majesty of the Rockies or the native beaches and foliage of Oahu.

  Desiree answered, “I don’t know. I guess it’s because we have just as much right to be here as everyone else and if we don’t show up it means that we are ashamed of what we do. It means they won.”

  Mildred appeared to ponder this. In the middle of Mildred’s pondering, two of the Birkenstock women walked by. One woman looked Mildred up and down then whispered to her friend, “Who let the whores in?”

  Mildred gasped and blinked back tears. That was all Desiree needed to see to come to Mildred’s rescue. She took three quick steps and grabbed the Birkenstock’s shoulder, spinning her around.

  “How dare you touch me,” Birkenstock said.

  “Just who do you think you’re calling a whore?” Desiree spat.

  “I’m not the one with my tits and ass hanging out for all the world to see,” the Birkenstock said.

  “Well, if you weren’t such a frigid bitch, your girlfriend wouldn’t be paying me to fuck her,” Desiree said.

  That hit the woman where she lived. She backed up two steps and faltered, hiccupping, “She never… you don’t know what…”

  Desiree smiled evilly and advanced on the woman step by step, saying, “She likes me to undress her slowly. Then I lick her from top to toe. She says she’s never had it so good.”

  The woman regained her balance and pushed Desiree. “You are lying! You’re not only a whore, but a liar!”

  Desire brought up a fist and was winding up to sock the woman in the ol’ schnozzola, but Mildred caught her by the wrist, stopping her mid-swing. “What’re you doing?” Desiree asked.

  “This,” Mildred said, slapping Birkenstock across the face. “And this,” she said, stomping her three inch stiletto heel down on the woman’s open-toed Birkenstocks. The woman screamed, grabbed her injured foot and began to hop around the dance floor.

  At that exact moment, the music changed to “What Does the Fox Say?” Several women dancing near the hopping woman saw her antics and clapped gleefully. They grabbed their own foot and began to hop to the beat of the music. The new dance move spread like wildfire a
nd soon the entire ballroom was filled with hopping, screaming women.

  Desiree took Mildred’s hand in her own and said, “I think this is our song.” She pulled Mildred close and slow-danced with her. The feel of Mildred’s firm body pressed close to hers created enough heat to make global warming seem like child’s play.

  Hullabaloo at the Ballyhoo

  After “What Does The Fox Say?” Mildred and Desiree were flushed and breathing hard. Not from the dance itself, but from the closeness of each other. The Birkenstocks, as Mildred now thought of the drawstring pants crowd, glared at them—a few were even bold enough to point. Mildred didn’t care. She was thinking about the feel of Desiree’s hips swaying next to her own.

  The D.J.’s voice blared over the sound system, “This is a song for all you lovers out there. So here goes, ladies, let’s put it down. Nobody puts Baby in the corner.”

  The song “Time of My Life” from the movie Dirty Dancing began to play. Mildred knew this was an omen. It was her all-time favorite and was probably the most romantic movie ever made. Desiree extended her arm to Mildred. Mildred put her hand in Desiree’s and rolled into her waiting arms. Mildred’s back was pressed into Desiree. Desiree’s mouth was only an inch from Mildred’s ear. She could feel Desiree’s warm breath. She leaned her head back onto Desiree’s shoulder. Oh my God, this felt good. Natural. Like something she had been waiting for her whole life. She was on the verge of having an ear-gasm when Desiree whirled back out.

  Mildred dipped and rolled to the music. She had never been as happy as she was right now.

  Desiree pulled her in close, their ears touched and their cheeks caressed. The whole world disappeared just like in a hundred movies Mildred had watched where love conquers all and lasts a lifetime.

  “Excuse me,” a gruff voice interrupted. Desiree stopped dancing and turned to see a woman dressed in a skin-tight leather suit glaring at them with her arms crossed over her flat chest.

  “What now?” Desiree said harshly.

  “I’m cutting in. You got your dance and now I want mine,” Leather said.

  “That’s so not happening,” Desiree said.

  “Why not? I hear you gals are for hire. I want to hire her for the rest of this dance. And if she’s any good, maybe for the night.” She winked lewdly at Mildred and licked her lips.

  Some of the people around them stopped dancing and nervously watched.

  “She’s not for hire tonight,” Desiree said. She pulled away from Mildred and stared up at the solid wall of leather. She had a crew cut and pierced eyebrows. She was a full head taller than Desiree.

  “Oh, that’s not what I heard,” Leather said, licking her lips again. “I heard she’s the best piece of tail in town. I heard she likes to…”

  “Fuck you!” Desiree interrupted. She pushed the woman square in the chest and Leather hit the floor ass-first.

  “Uh oh,” Mildred said.

  The onlookers circled around Desiree and Leather forming an impenetrable wall of flesh. Leather, red-faced and sweaty, hauled her considerable bulk to her feet and charged Desiree.

  Desiree sidestepped her easily and Leather hit the wall of women who spun her around and threw her back into the ring where Desiree was waiting. Desiree let fly with a roundhouse punch that had all her weight behind it. She connected solidly with Leather’s jaw.

  Leather stopped. Blinked. Crossed her eyes. Then dropped to her knees. She stayed on her knees, swaying gently until Mildred gave her a firm push that sent her face-first into the floor.

  Mildred walked up to Desiree and placed both hands on Desiree’s hips. “You’re my hero.”

  Desiree chuckled and said in a Gomer Pyle accent, “Aw, shucks, Ma’am. Anything for a lady.”

  “Uh oh,” Mildred said, peering over Desiree’s shoulder. Two of Leather’s friends were storming their way. And judging by their expressions, they weren’t going to ask them for a dance. “Come on, it’s time to get out of here,” she said, grabbing Desiree’s hand.

  They turned to run, but weren’t quite quick enough. A Leather with a Flock of Seagulls hairdo grabbed Desiree by her collar and lifted her into the air. “Hey, put me down! This suit cost more than you make in an entire year!” Desiree said, her legs pedaling just like Fred Flintstone’s when he drove his car.

  Velvet Thrust came out of nowhere with Fessa on her heels. Velvet Thrust pressed two fingers down on Flock of Seagull’s trapezius muscle. Flock of Seagulls dropped Desiree. Desiree hit the floor first then Flock of Seagulls fell on top of her like a sandbag. Desiree squirmed like a squished fish under a narwhale.

  “Get her off of me. I can’t breathe,” Desiree squeaked.

  Candy Sweet, Fessa and Mildred rolled the woman off Desiree while Velvet Thrust pointed at the rest of the Leathers. “Who’s next?” she said. She cracked her giant knuckles.

  The Leathers stood their ground. They glared at Velvet Thrust from under their Neanderthal brows.

  Honey Belle and Heavenly Bliss appeared out of the crowd and flanked Velvet Thrust. Fessa and Roni and Candy Sweet stood behind them, fists clenched and ready.

  Mildred thought it resembled the meeting of the Sharks and the Jets right before the big rumble— except without the singing, of course.

  Flock of Seagulls sat up. “What the hell did you do to me?” she said, rubbing her shoulder.

  “Stay down,” Velvet Thrust commanded, pointing at the woman.

  Flock of Seagulls immediately obeyed and lay back down.

  The Leathers took this as their clue to begin swinging. Within seconds the ballroom became an all-out brawl. Fists flew, high-kicks smashed, women growled and screamed and champagne bottles were busted over heads. It was crazier than a bar brawl in a western movie.

  This time it was Desiree who grabbed Mildred by the hand. “Let’s get out of here!”

  They sprinted for the nearest stairs.

  The Balcony Scene

  “Where are we going?” Mildred asked.

  “To the balcony. So we can keep an eye on the hullabaloo below,” Desiree said. She wasn’t lying. Not exactly. Well, maybe an itty bitty lie. She did want to keep an eye on what was happening on the dance floor. But, more importantly, she wanted to get Mildred alone. She wanted nothing between her and Mildred but her growing passion. And the only way to do that was to get away from all the prying eyes.

  Desiree climbed the stairs two at a time.

  Mildred trailed behind her on the staircase, hobbled by her high heel shoes. Desiree stopped on the first landing, realizing that Mildred couldn’t keep up. “Take those off. You’re going to kill yourself on these stairs.”

  They sat down on marble steps and Mildred began to unbuckle the straps of her shoes. She took off one shoe and burst into tears.

  “What is it?” Desiree said, alarmed. She automatically put her arm around Mildred. Desiree was well versed in the what-to-do-in-the-case-of-tears department. Lord knows over the years she’d done enough of it. The tears she had seen ran the gamut from depression and lost love to the infinite unfairness of life. Desiree was a consummate professional comforter. The method was basically the same—hold the person, find a Kleenex, wait until they stop blubbering long enough for them to talk, and then you listen. Repeat as necessary.

  Mildred stopped blubbering, wiped her eyes and blew her nose on the tissue Desiree gave her. She said, “I just wanted to have a nice night. It’s my first gala event and now it’s ruined because of those awful women. And even Velvet Thrust and Fessa had their time ruined.” She took off her other shoe.

  “Oh no, they’re having a great time. Velvet Thrust lives for this shit. Come on, I’ll show you,” Desiree said. She got up and helped Mildred to her feet. “We can see them from the balcony.”

  *

  Desiree was right. It was quite the scene. She and Mildred leaned their elbows on the ornate metal railing and watched. It was lesbian mayhem and mirth and their side was winning.

  “So much for diplomacy,” Desiree
said, with a smirk.

  Mildred pointed. “Look at Fessa. Being short has its advantages.”

  “It certainly does,” Desiree said with a smile.

  Fessa was scurrying around and knocking people behind the knees with what appeared to be a blunt wooden object.

  “Is that a rolling pin?” Mildred asked.

  “I believe it is,” Desiree said, as yet another lesbian grabbed her knees and tumbled to the floor.

  “Where do you suppose she got one of them?”

  “The kitchen, I guess. Short people are known for their ingenuity.”

  Mildred chuckled and said, “If a lesbian falls at the Ballyhoo and nobody notices, does she make a sound?”

  Desiree laughed. She wrapped her arm about Mildred’s waist. Mildred didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she snuggled in closer to Desiree.

  Mildred smiled. “You know what I like best about you?”

  “My brains? My brawn? Or the fact that I’m so sexually magnetic that every woman in the lower forty-eight wants a piece of this?” Desiree joked.

  Instead of a laugh, Desiree got a sharp elbow in the ribs. “I like your simpleness.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Desiree said.

  “Oh, but it is. I like that it doesn’t take much to make you happy. That we can sit on your couch and have as good a time as being here.”

  At that moment they heard a Tarzan-like yell. Looking back down on the dance floor, they saw Honey Belle grab a Leather, lift the unfortunate woman over her head, spin her around and around, and send her flying back into her group of fellow Leathers who scattered like bowling pins.

  Heavenly Bliss was stomping on Birkenstock toes like she was doing an elaborate tap dance. The Birkenstocks were screaming and clutching their feet.

  “Dang, this is better than Friday nights at the high school football games,” Mildred said.

  The dance floor had whipped into a frenzy. The Birkenstocks were taking a beating as call girls from all over Bon Chance followed Mildred’s previous modus operandi and pounded their high heels onto exposed toes. It was the equivalent of a man putting a bull’s-eye on his fly saying “kick me here.” It completely disabled them. The Birkenstocks grabbed their toes and then the call girls gave them a push. The floor was littered with damaged, squirming bodies.