by Berri Fox
With a hell of a body too… Don’t think I haven’t noticed! It would be easier for me to treat her as a potential one night stand, but clearly that’s not going to happen. A woman like that needs more attention.
Im not sure Im the one to give it to her. I’d like it to be me, but I’ve already wasted too much time on traps that were no good to me.
Im thinking of how luscious she is and what I might be able to do to show my appreciation, when I hear the door click. I sit up on the lounge, practically waving the champagne with a big grin.
“Hey! My woman! Where ya been?”
“Roxy…”
“Yeah, Helen? How was your day?”
She looks at the floor strewn with candy wrappers and clothes. The wet trail of footprints leading from the bathroom to the couch. Her eyebrow twitches just slightly.
“Roxy, are you drinking all my good champagne?”
Thirteen
Helen
I think I might be about to have a panic attack. My first one ever. I should feel lucky. If I had a therapist, I’m sure she’d consider this to be a good step towards getting more excitement in my life.
I should be relieved, I guess. My stuff is still here, she didn’t clean me out. I can be grateful for that, but when I ran all the way home from work, I was thinking just a quick shower and a change and then we could meet Lisa and Sharon.
I decide to work on the one part of the problem that I know I have to solve. Roxy. The apartment, the treatment of my clothes and the scattered leftovers of all my food, these I can get upset about later.
Roxy is still just laughing and wavering, holding the bottle. I cross the distance quickly and kneel in front of her.
“Roxy, are you understanding me?”
She nods, giggling.
“No, I mean it. I have dinner with my boss very soon, and she wants to see me with my fiancée. I lied, I said I had one and now you’re all I’ve got. Please help me, Roxy!”
I can’t believe I’m imploring her like this, but I don’t have much fire in me. I might still be angry, but I haven’t done much yelling in my life and the irritation is quickly eroding into panic.
Her eyes lock on to mine and she presses her lips together.
“Okay Helen, okay. I’ll do whatever, you just tell me. I’ve run shadier deals, I’d say.”
I don’t know how to take the comment but when she starts giggling again, I tear the champagne out of her hand. She giggles even louder, shaking her head. I burrow around in the piles of clothes, pulling out a sheath dress in pale grey.
I grab the robe right above Roxy’s breasts and pull it off and for a moment I just sit there, numb.
She’s naked. She’s fucking naked. I thought she might have on a negligee or underwear or… Fuck. Not naked.
Roxy rubs her fingers against her hair absently, not even seeming to notice that she’s naked. I turn and run to my guest room, pulling out some bras and panties that were left here by my cousin a few months ago. None of my underwear would come close to fitting Roxy.
When I get back out there, she’s got the champagne again. I take it off her and start fiddling with the bra. I’m sweating and breathing so hard I can barely see the clip. My fingers fall over themselves and refuse to obey. Roxy brushes drunkenly at my hands.
“Hey, stop that. I don’t wear bras.”
“Tonight, you do.” In my frustration I grab both ends, wrench them around her like I’m tying a corset and clip it in. Roxy makes a little grunting sound. When I come around to the front, she’s got a hell of a frown, but I pay her no mind.
While I wiggle the cups back and forth, I try to keep myself totally professional. Like a costume designer or something. Just put her breasts in the cups and don’t think about those pink nipples starting to rise against the lace. Don’t think about how they bob in your hands, firm and sweet…
I quickly reach up to her shoulders and adjust the straps there. I look at the panties then at Roxy.
“Here, put these on.” I haul her to her feet, and she tries to oblige, falling against me. I shake out the dress and a little jacket while she wriggles into the panties.
“Oh, these are nice.” She does a little twirl, pointing her butt at me. It’s a black lace G string. How did I not see that when I was choosing them?
Maybe I did. There’s a scary thought.
“Okay. Help me Roxy.” I hold the dress open so she can step into it. It’s just a narrow rectangle of dark grey that looks blue in the right light. Straight cut at the bottom and across the neckline, no sleeves. I pull it up Roxy’s body, straightening it and zipping it for her.
Even in just the dress, she is transformed. Her petite little curves work perfectly against the straight cuts and the subtle color brings out her delicate features.
“I’m going to get changed as well and bring you some shoes. Can I leave you alone for five seconds while I get dressed? Do you promise not to get drunk?”
“Drunk-er,” She corrects me firmly.
I tear off down the hall, my heart pounding in my chest. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I want to call it all off. I can’t just tell Lisa though. I could never live it down.
So, my only option is to get Roxy ready and take her out in public.
I pull on a pink dress and quickly touch up my makeup, leaving my hair free. When I get back to the living room Roxy is watching TV but she’s not getting the dress wrinkled or drinking.
“Okay. Sit still.” I lean in close, just lightly smudging her eyes with liner and painting her lips pink. With just a tiny bit of product I get her very pale hair to curve around her face. When she blinks at me, I think that she looks like a mystical anime character, fallen out of one of their strange and beautiful realms to land in mine.
For a few seconds we look at each other. I stroke her hair gently, getting lost in the moment. She’s very beautiful. In a nice dress, a light touch of makeup and her hair neat, she’s hardly recognizable as the girl I recently brought home.
I think about the heavy eye makeup and dark lips she had before. The clothes that practically screamed ‘try me—I dare you.’
Maybe, Roxy is something inside that she doesn’t show. While we sit there, gently touching each other, I get a painful stab through my chest.
Even though we are so different, I suddenly get the feeling that we are exactly the same. That what we are on the inside, we can’t let out. The sense of loneliness I’ve always felt seems mirrored by her.
“What time is dinner?” She asks quietly. For a second I don’t know what she’s talking about, then the world and all its constructs come flooding back into my mind again.
“Ah—seven thirty. I think.”
“We better get going.” The light smile, rimmed in pearly pink, is gentle rather than sarcastic. I’m afraid that I might be projecting. It’s impossible for someone to go through a profound personality change just because you put them in a different outfit.
But she does seem quieter. More attentive. I let myself look at her a few minutes more before getting up.
“I’ll grab my purse and we’ll go.”
I run to my room and get my black heels as well as my small purse. I grab some low heels for Roxy and hope that they fit.
When I get back to the living room, she’s sitting on the couch looking out the window. The punky chick was quite at home in the wreck of my lounge room, but this delicate waif looks completely out of place.
I might be telling myself a string of tall tales right now, but at this moment I couldn’t imagine a better stand in for my fiancée.
As much as I’m trying to look at this objectively, I know I’m starting to get feelings for her. I just have to be very careful that if I’m going to fall in love with who she really is, not who I want her to be.
When I take her hand and lead her towards the door, she gives me that devilish grin, but it doesn’t seem to meet her eyes.
“I suppose there will be a bit of intimacy tonight, won’t there?�
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I’m at the door getting it open when she speaks, and I turn and look at her strangely.
“For the show, right? To make your boss or whoever think we’re sweethearts?”
“Yes. Of course. Hugging, holding hands, kissing.”
She leans over and kisses me softly on the lips. That moment of silence falls over us again. Neither of us speaks but something passes between us.
I pull back from the kiss and turn around, almost losing my keys I’m so flustered. I literally have no fucking clue what I’m doing.
But the longer it goes on, the more I seem to like it.
Fourteen
Roxanne
On the way downstairs I trip multiple times over the heels and the constricting skirt. To make matters worse, we took the elevator.
I try to take tiny, dainty steps. The skirt seems to get narrower all the way down until it’s a tight band wrapped around my knees. I don’t know how anyone is supposed to walk in it at all, let alone with heels involved as well.
I cling to Helen as we wait on the curb for a cab. The alcohol hasn’t worn off and I feel kind of drowsy. Every time I try to move, I bring my foot down wrong and almost snap my ankle. The skirt keeping my knees together might even be keeping me alive.
I reach up with one finger and tug on the collar. It goes in a straight line from shoulder to shoulder and pulls against my throat. It’s itching at me. I haven’t even seen a mirror; I have no idea how I look.
I can see how Helen looks, though.
The long pink gown is tight around the bodice, falling to her knees in light, wispy strands. In the very high ivory heels, she strides with the confidence of a gladiator, standing up straight and showing off every generous curve that graces her tall frame.
She is so beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman so beautiful. I feel kind of bad for junking up her apartment. I’ll put in a big effort and clean it up for her tomorrow. When I’m not so drunk.
Helen puts us both in the cab and sits across from me, tense and nervous. She picks at her nails and stares out the window. The champagne has left me terribly dizzy but at least I don’t feel like I’m going to be sick. Just a little numb and high.
The thought keeps pounding around in my brain, but I can’t make sense of it.
I’m going to be Helen’s wife.
I have the ridiculous urge to fall against her and make a ‘this is all so sudden’ joke, but I can see how she’s freaking out. I don’t know all the details, but this is really important to her. I don’t want to screw it up. Whatever it is she needs out of this situation, I want to make sure she gets it.
I care fiercely about making her happy, and it’s at that moment I realize my life has changed.
Only a day ago I looked out for me. No one else. Even this morning I couldn’t say anyone was as important as myself.
But when I saw Helen come in, stressed out and terrified, something turned over in me. I don’t know what it was. Seeing her perfect beauty tilted, even a little, made me anxious. There was one great big reason why. It was staring me in the face so hard I couldn’t look away from it.
Helen has treated me with respect from the very first moment we met. It’s such a rare taste to me, it’s difficult to recognize. No matter what we’re doing tonight, I feel like I owe her, just because she’s treated me like a human being instead of a street rat. Even getting upset over her apartment being messy—and let’s be honest, that’s totally fair—she didn’t get particularly upset with me.
As the sky begins to darken and the lights of the city start to glow, I realize I’m happy. I’m really happy. I’ve slept in a comfortable place, had plenty of food to eat (even if I might disagree over its flavor) and now I’m off to a fancy dinner with a gorgeous woman.
I glance over at her and something skips in my chest. Maybe we could be lovers for real. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m still scared. I don’t know much about her, why would I assume that she’s different to any of the others?
But she is. I know it.
Not that it matters. I’ll fuck up everything like I always do eventually. I look down into my lap and try not to think. I don’t know how I’ll get through tonight, except that I know I can be in love with her… So maybe, I wont fake it. I’ll just adore her.
The cab slows and we pull up in front of glittering lights. Helen pays the driver and smiles sweetly but the second we get out the tense line across her lips comes back. She looks like she’s going to cry.
“Hey, hey Helen.” I take her arm. “It’s all going to be okay. You’ll see. We’ll be fine. I don’t know what you need this for, but I won’t let you down.”
“Thanks Roxy.” She smiles warmly and looks reassured… Until I trip over my own fucking heels.
Helen catches me, looking pained. I let her pull me up and she puts an arm around my waist.
“Tiny steps. Little baby steps. Heel to toe.”
“Why didn’t you let me wear my boots?” My wail is a bit too loud and painful and the doorman gives me a shocked look.
“They wouldn’t go with the dress.”
“So why did you make me wear this dress?” I realize my voice has hit the pitch of a baby goat and clamp my lips together.
I try to straighten up and walk like a lady. I have no clue where to even start. It’s not like Dad taught me to be a lady. After Mom died it was all motorbikes and car engines. How to throw a punch or break through chain wire.
The entire restaurant is full of perfectly composed people. I feel like I’ve fallen into a magazine and any moment the paper will tear and leave me in the gutter. Where I always find myself, sooner or later.
A tall woman with very long black hair stands up and waves to us. The woman sitting at the table is a perfectly made up brunette who looks at me like she wants to take me apart, piece by piece. I’m so nervous all of a sudden, I start to sweat.
Helen practically carries me to the table.
“Lisa!” Helen hugs the gorgeous dark-haired woman with real affection. I hold my hand out awkwardly and try to stay upright.
They both shake my hand and look me over. Sharon looks like a professional cat, not good for anything but making comments. I dislike her immediately and hope I can hide it.
Lisa seems cool, shooting me little grins and happy words. She’s clearly excited that Helen has a girlfriend and that’s a sentiment I can get behind.
When they try to draw me into the conversation I hold back and sit quietly in my chair. Despite my best efforts, I find myself slipping into a kind of hyper state, nervousness hitting champagne buzz and bubbling over like the bottle after it’s been shaken.
“Oh, Helen’s just fantastic.” I almost rise from my seat, I’m talking so much with my hands. “We didn’t want to make it official, you know. Just wanted to have some of it for ourselves.” I let out a high-pitched giggle and I almost freak myself out. I don’t even recognize my own voice.
I try to tone it down but that just makes me open my big mouth wider. People at nearby tables are starting to stare. Sharon looks ready to cut me down, verbal sword waiting and ready. Lisa is looking at me like I’m kinda cute but getting annoying.
Oh, God. I can’t stop. Why do they keep putting wine in front of me? What the hell is Helen going to do?
Then I look over at her.
She’s perfectly relaxed, smiling at me. The look in her eyes stops me, just for a second. I grin back and launch into another of my crazy stories, too high now to come down gracefully.
Then Helen lets out an incredibly loud laugh. Lisa sits back in shock and Sharon glares over her wine glass. Other patrons turn and swivel to see the source of the laughter.
Helen just keeps looking at me, eyes shining. Her smile gets even wider and she laughs again, letting it echo through the restaurant like a protest against societal norms.
She takes my hand and turns to grin at Lisa.
“Don’t you see why I adore her?”
The warmth in her voice, the p
ress of her hand—it feels real. Oh, how I want it to be real!
I grip her hand and grin so hard I almost cry. I don’t even recognize myself right now, but maybe, that’s okay.
Maybe, I’m learning to be a better person. Not just to others… But for me. It’s probably the most radical thought I’ve ever had.
Fifteen
Helen
Walking into the restaurant was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I could feel mortification sinking through my bones and dragging my limbs down.
I’ve never attracted attention. Never. I’ve spent the majority of my life trying to avoid it. This pink dress is probably the most outlandish thing I own except for my kink gear.
I hope that we just look like touchy feely lovers and not a pair of drunken raccoons. I’m so relieved when we finally sit down I almost faint from the shock.
Then Lisa starts talking. Sharon doesn’t talk much but I can tell by her expression she’s watching everything go by and preparing her comments.
Lisa has always been vivacious and bossy. She takes charge of every conversation. When she does this with Roxy, my date immediately comes alive and tries to outdo Lisa for attention.
I see puzzlement cross Roxy’s features while Lisa explains about the deal and the magazine. She covers it well and launches into a discussion as if she’s been working in print for years. I’m stunned.
As patrons nearby start to look, I begin to get nervous. Even Lisa is starting to look frustrated and Sharon is sharpening her claws.
“Of course, you can’t feed an elephant with a rake.” Roxy practically yells across the restaurant. “You have to feed him by hand or in his special feeder. But I didn’t have anywhere to put the rake. I leaned it on a nearby wall and what happened? A monkey fucking stole it.”
I have no idea how we got on to this subject, but Roxy is just warming up. I’m pretty sure Lisa just calmly said ‘what do you do’ and this launched Roxy on to a mobius strip tale of every single job she’s had ever had.