“Well, that’s got to be hard.” Desiree didn’t dare look at Greta. She stared at her toes instead.
“Yeah. The worst part is that Mildred didn’t get to tell this woman that she was in love with her.”
“She loved her?”
“That’s what she told me.”
At that moment, Cindy Lee came out of the back door of the Co-op. “Here she comes,” Desiree said, ducking even lower. Luckily, Cindy Lee was chattering on her cell phone and didn’t pay a rat’s ass bit of attention to her truck. She opened the driver’s door, scooted inside and slammed the door shut. She put her key in the ignition and started the engine.
Desiree began to giggle. “Watch. Here it comes…”
Cindy Lee looked out the front windshield and squinted at the windshield wiper. Desiree and Greta couldn’t hear Cindy Lee but they could plainly see her mouth form the words, “What the hell?”
Cindy Lee reached down and turned on the windshield wipers. The hot sun had done its job and melted the crayons. The wipers swooshed across the truck’s windshield leaving behind a hot, sticky, waxy rainbow.
Cindy Lee lost it. You didn’t have to be a lip-reader to know what she shouting.
Greta and Desiree couldn’t hold it in. They burst into guffaws and threw their arms around each other.
Once they had collected themselves enough to peer back around the car’s bumper, they saw Cindy Lee drive out of the parking lot. She was leaning out her window so she could see where to steer.
“Oh my Lord, that was funny,” Greta said. She was still trying to catch her breath from laughing so hard. “I can’t wait to tell Mildred what you did. It’ll cheer her up.”
Desiree stood and offered Greta a hand up. “Fill me in about what she says.”
“I will. I already told her all about you.”
“You did?”
“Uh huh. Maybe you’ll get to meet her someday,” Greta said.
“Oh. Sure. I’d like that,” Desiree stuttered.
Greta smiled. It was a Cheshire cat sort of smile.
Honey Belle Has A Conniption Fit
Honey Belle stood in her sister’s office at the gym talking on the phone. She was enraged. Her face was purple and dotted with her own spittle. “Well fucking get on it. I need her back! I’m not paying you to not find people!” She slammed her cell phone down onto the desk and heard a cracking noise. She slumped over her desk, holding her head in her hands. She sorely missed the days of the landline phones. She had spent a lot of money the past couple of years on smashed cell phones and they just didn’t have the same oomph as the old phones when you slammed them down. Plus, it was turning out to be an expensive habit.
Things weren’t much better out in the gym proper. Mildred, Velvet Thrust, and Fessa sat three abreast on the exercise bikes, pedaling furiously. They were pretending to watch the hanging TVs but were actually watching Honey Belle through her office windows. They glanced at each other.
“She’s going to have a heart attack if she isn’t careful,” Mildred said.
“She’ll kill somebody before she croaks,” Velvet Thrust said.
“Yeah, I just hope it’s not one of us,” Fessa added.
Honey Belle threw open the office door and strode over to them.
“Uh oh,” Fessa said under her breath. “Here she comes.”
Honey Belle stopped in front of them. She eyed each girl like a drill sergeant who was doing an inspection. Finally, she barked, “What the hell am I going to do? I can’t run a business with only three gigolo girls. You all got any ideas?”
“Well, I’m no expert, but maybe you could hire on more girls,” Mildred said.
“No shit,” Honey Belle said. “But I don’t want just any ol’ body off the street.”
Silence. No one dared to say, “Didn’t you come from off the streets?”
Finally, Velvet Thrust said, “How about recruiting from strip clubs?” Both she and Fessa had been strippers before Honey Belle found them.
“I’ve already tried that. Last night me and Heavenly Bliss did the tour. We went to the Glory Hole, Kitty’s Glitter Box, Bottoms Up, Juicy Lucy’s, and Leave It To Beavers. All the dancers look like used-up sluts.”
“How about running another ad in the newspaper?” Mildred said. “That’s how I found you all.”
“Desiree wrote that ad. And in case you hadn’t noticed, she’s not here anymore,” Honey Belle said.
“I noticed,” Mildred said softly, hanging her head.
Fessa and Velvet Thrust exchanged a worried look over Mildred’s bowed head. They had grown rather protective of Mildred since Desiree had left.
“Do you remember what the ad said?” Honey Belle asked Mildred.
“Something about trained professionals,” Mildred said.
“You’re the only woman who answered the ad, so you were an accident—in a good kind of way,” Honey Belle amended. “I don’t think it’s going to suddenly rain down buckets of lesbians with highly charged libidos even if we did start a trainee program. There’s got to be a better way.”
“Well, why don’t we hit the lesbian bars and find the good looking, flirty, cheating, nymphomaniacs? They’re doing it for free, so why not get paid?” Fessa said.
Honey Belle raised an eyebrow. “That might just work. I want you three to gussie up and hit the girl bars tonight. I’ll give you a hundred bucks for every recruit you bring in,” she said. “Two hundred bucks if I actually hire them.”
Velvet Thrust scoffed. “Five hundred.”
“What?” Honey Belle said. Her face began to glow purple again.
“Five hundred,” Velvet repeated. “Our time is worth at least that much.”
Honey Belle said flatly, “No.” She crossed her arms over her giant breasts.
Velvet Thrust countered. “Let’s take a vote. Who’s with me?”
Fessa raised her hand. Velvet Thrust raised her eyebrows at Mildred. “All for one?” she said.
Mildred raised her hand.
Honey Belle scowled. “All right, five hundred for each girl you bring in that makes the cut. And I want at least three new girls.”
“Not a problem,” Velvet Thrust said.
Mildred asked, “When do we go?”
“Tonight,” Honey Belle said. “I’ll cancel you all’s appointments.”
“You can’t do that,” Velvet Thrust said. “We’ll be losing pay.”
“I’ll reimburse you for the money you lose,” Honey Belle said, grudgingly. “Now get on it.” She turned and walked back to her office, slamming the door behind her.
Velvet Thrust smiled and rubbed her hands together like a hulking version of Peter Lorre in Casablanca. “This will be fun! We’ll meet at Fessa’s and go hunting together.”
“I don’t think… I’m going to be… good at it,” Mildred said. She was huffing and puffing. Her stationary bike was set on the rolling hills cycle and she was currently going uphill.
“Yes, you are. Trust me,” Velvet Thrust said. “Wear that low cut red number of yours. No panties.”
“I’ll dress like a little boy toy with my underpants showing above my jeans and a ball cap sideways,” Fessa said.
Velvet Thrust looked at her. “That’s very decisive for you. Usually, you can’t figure out a thing to wear.”
“I’m adopting a persona in order to attract different types of women—that makes it easy,” Fessa said.
“In that case, I’m going with leather and chains, dominatrix style,” Velvet Thrust said.
“In other words, you’ll dress like you normally do,” Fessa teased.
Velvet Thrust balled up her fist and playfully swatted Fessa on the shoulder. Fessa flew off her bike and landed on her butt three feet away.
“Whoopsy,” Velvet Thrust said. “My bad.”
A-Hunting We Will Go
Mildred gussied up in her little red dress and matching heels with her hair carefully sprayed to look like she had just rolled out of bed. She was standing i
n the middle of Fessa’s apartment with her mouth hanging open. She’d never seen anything like this place. Ever. It was like driving through Africa on a safari and seeing all the exotic animals roam by. Except this was in the middle of a city in Texas and the animal hides were on the furniture. There were mostly zebra with some leopard and cheetah thrown in and the ottoman looked like maybe it was rhino hide. There was a lion’s head mounted on the wall, a gun cabinet and a real bear skin rug. PETA would have a coronary if they ever got a gander at this place.
“Wow, I had no idea that you were a hunter,” Mildred said, trying to imagine Fessa all dressed in khaki and wearing a pith helmet.
“It’s a hobby,” Fessa said, puffing with pride.
“More like an obsession,” Velvet Thrust said. Judging from her unblinking, big-eyed stare, she appeared to be as taken aback as Mildred.
Fessa said, “You’re one to talk. You’re all dressed in leather. There’s not much difference between wearing a dead cow and having a cheetah throw pillow.”
It was true. Velvet Thrust was decked out entirely in black leather. Except for the chains.
“You’ve never been here before?” Mildred asked.
“No, we’ve only started speaking to each other in the past few months since the hair episode,” Velvet Thrust said.
“Don’t remind me of that awful time.”
“Sorry,” Velvet Thrust apologized. “But that was when I realized you weren’t so bad. You were vulnerable and weak. I had an overwhelming desire to protect you.”
“She’s finally realized that I have a big heart for such a little person,” Fessa said. “Who wants a cocktail before we go hunting?” Fessa moved behind a bar that looked as if it were upholstered in ostrich skin.
Velvet Thrust said, “I’d love a gin and tonic.”
Mildred ran a light hand over the bumpy ostrich skin bar thinking about how it looked like Fessa’s scalp when Kimberly Larson the Third had plucked her head.
Fessa handed Velvet Thrust her drink and turned to Mildred, saying, “What’ll it be?”
“A champagne cocktail,” Mildred said.
“Puhleez,” Velvet Thrust said. “Champagne is not a cocktail. Make her a martini, Fessa.”
“That’s not a good idea. A drink that strong will go straight to my head,” Mildred said.
“I’ll put an olive in it,” Fessa said. “That’ll tone it down.”
Velvet Thrust looked at Mildred with her eyes twinkling. “Believe me, you’ll need a strong drink. It’s going to be a loooong night.”
“Do you really think it’s going to be that hard?” Mildred said.
“This mission requires a lot of observation to find just the right mark, not to mention the actual recruitment part. And you’re the bait,” Velvet Thrust said, waggling her eyebrows at Mildred.
“What?” Mildred said.
“You’re the perfect blend of sweet and heat. You’ll attract the outgoing, flirty types,” Fessa said. “Especially in that number you’re wearing.”
Mildred wondered if they’d had a meeting before she got there and strategized. “What about you all?”
“See, Velvet Thrust is going for the masochists. They’re pretty easy to spot,” Fessa said, handing Mildred her shaken-not-stirred martini. She poured herself two fingers of scotch, which seemed to clash with her boy-toy outfit. She should’ve been wearing a smoking jacket and an ascot like Nick Charles in The Thin Man.
“How do you know?” Mildred said, wincing as she sipped her martini. It reminded her of the time she had tried to siphon gasoline through a hose and ended up with a nasty taste in her mouth.
“They gaze longingly at her leather,” Fessa said. “They also whimper a lot.”
“What about you?” Mildred said. “Who do you attract?”
“I get the lady types,” Fessa said.
“Lady types?”
“The femmes that want a boy with a vag,” Velvet said. “They like the gender-confused types.”
“Gender-confused?” Mildred said.
Fessa plunked an extra olive in Mildred’s martini. “It’ll help soak up the liquor.”
“Thank you.”
“Gender-confused means they know they have a vagina in their underpants but they have a male-like attitude,” Velvet said.
“So they dress like boys,” Fessa said.
“Oh. I had no idea being gay had such diversity,” Mildred said.
“Small town life must be a lot simpler,” Fessa said.
“Yes it is,” Mildred said. She felt a sudden pang of homesickness. “Back home girls either like girls or boys. And you can usually tell the difference. Until menopause anyway.”
Velvet Thrust held her glass in the air. “To the gigolo girls! Past, present, and future!”
Mildred and Fessa clanked their glasses against Velvet Thrust’s, saying simultaneously, “To the gigolo girls!”
Reeling Them In
The three women sat at the bar of the Meow Mix, Bon Chance’s premier lesbian bar. Mildred thought it was an awful name but, Bea Conroy, the bar’s owner and bartender, was a cat lover. Bea was somewhere between sixty-five and a hundred years old. She dressed in rhinestone-encrusted jumpsuits and her bleached hair was shellacked into a two-foot tall haystack on top of her head. She wore cat-eye glasses on a chain around her neck and white cowboy boots with her polyester pant legs tucked inside. A permanent menthol Pall Mall cigarette dangled from her fleshy lips. It goes without saying that she was covered in cat hair. But then again, so were most of the clientele.
Velvet Thrust, Fessa, and Mildred sat with a stool between each of them so that any interested parties had room to sidle up and also so they wouldn’t be mistaken as being involved with each other.
Fessa got the first nibble.
“Hey, there, I haven’t seen you around here before,” said a tall woman wearing a super tight pair of True Religion jeans and Tony Lama cowboy boots. She managed to pull off femme by wearing a hot pink blouse with the buttons undone enough to show her décolletage and her silk camisole. Mildred had seen the woman flirting with at least three other women. She seemed to be making the rounds of the bar. She definitely had nymphomaniac potential.
“I’m new in town,” Fessa said.
“Well, in that case let me be your welcome wagon and buy you a drink,” Tall and Tight said.
“Sure, I’ll have a Fuzzy Navel,” Fessa said, managing to make that short sentence sound more like “I want to dive between your legs.”
“I like a woman who knows her drinks,” Tall and Tight said breathily. She caught Bea’s eye and mouthed “Two Pierced Fuzzy Navels.”
Mildred watched as Velvet Thrust gave Fessa a nearly undetectable nod and wink.
“So, I’m assuming you’re single,” Fessa said, her eyes licking up the tall woman’s body.
“Sure am,” Tall and Tight responded.
“My luck must be changing,” Fessa said lustily.
Bea slapped two drinks down in front of them, saying, “Two Pierced Fuzzy Navels.”
“Pierced?” Fessa asked.
“Half orange juice, half Peach Schnapps and half vodka,” Bea said.
“That’s three halves,” Fessa said.
“Ain’t you the smart one,” Bea muttered around the dangling cigarette.
Mildred still didn’t understand how pierced had anything to do with three halves. Maybe she meant spiked instead of pierced. As Desiree always said—lesbians are confusing.
Tall and Tight said, “Put them on my tab.” Bea sucked on her cigarette and moseyed away.
“How about you? Are you single?” Tall and Tight said, turning back to Fessa.
“Yep,” Fessa said, sipping her Pierced Fuzzy Navel.
“I’d love to be married. I just haven’t found the right partner yet,” Tall and Tight bemoaned.
Even Mildred knew a lie when she heard that one. She looked away trying not to outright snicker.
“Not me,” Fessa said. “I’m just look
ing for a fuck buddy.”
Tall and Tight almost spit out her drink.
Wow, Mildred thought. Fessa certainly wasn’t wasting any time.
“Well, I think we’re going to get along great,” Tall and Tight said.
“Reel her in,” Velvet Thrust said under her breath.
Fessa stood. She barely came up to the woman’s hips. “Wanna dance?”
“Sure thing,” Tall and Tight said, taking Fessa by the shoulder—she couldn’t reach her elbow—and leading her to the dance floor.
Velvet Thrust watched as Fessa took off her ball cap and nuzzled her face between Tall and Tight’s thighs. “Shit,” Velvet Thrust muttered.
“I thought that was tonight’s goal,” Mildred said, sliding onto the empty barstool next to Velvet Thrust. “You’re not jealous, are you?”
“Of course not,” Velvet Thrust said with more force than was necessary. “I just lost fifty bucks on my bet with Fessa about who could snag the first recruit.” She tipped her beer bottle in the air and chugged the whole thing. She put the bottle down and scowled at the dance floor. Mildred was pretty sure there was more to Velvet Thrust’s sudden sour disposition than a lost fifty bucks.
“You bet you’d get the first one?” Mildred asked.
“Nope,” Velvet Thrust said. “I bet that you’d get the first one.”
“Sorry about that,” Mildred said. “I haven’t been trying very hard.” The truth was that each time she felt somebody look at her she wouldn’t meet their gaze. She felt guilty. She felt like she was cheating on Desiree, which was ridiculous seeing as how Desiree had deserted her.
“Not your fault. I’m more disgusted with myself,” Velvet Thrust confided. “I swear every time I think I’ve got lesbians figured out they change it up.” Her scowl grew even more severe.
As if to taunt her, the Universe produced a curveball for Mildred. “Hi, I couldn’t help noticing you,” a woman said.
Mildred turned on her stool and found herself staring into a pair of lovely green eyes. The woman was wearing a white tuxedo shirt and black trousers with suspenders. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. She had a dimple in her chin. Just what some of Honey Belle’s femme clients would love to get their paws on.
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