by Fifi Flowers
“Well, if you will not divulge the resort, will you look at what I bought the other day? You can come by my apartment over the weekend and I will put on a fashion show. Bring Frank if he can escape Doug.” I couldn’t tell her that Doug had been removed from the picture and that Kevin was now the love of Frank’s life—for the moment. Mitzi complained about Doug because he didn’t like her fashion sense or I should say how she had none according to dressing appropriately for certain occasions, but she thought he was perfect for Frank. She had a funny thing about couples breaking up.
Luckily, I had planned to be away for the weekend watching a surfing competition so I had no time to get together with her before the trip and that saved me from giving too much away. Truly, she would never listen to what any of us had to say about her collection of resort wear anything and I didn’t feel like explaining my comments as she never let anyone off with a simple “yes” or “no” answer. Another thing I adored about her, but I would never tell her that one.
Chapter Five
Mitzi
“What’s that look, Mitzi?” Singer asked as she hopped onto a stationary bike next to me, we preferred to cycle looking out the gym window than sweating with a group of spin class cyclists. “Don’t tell me… Jack! Am I right?” She laughed.
She already knew that if I had a lost puppy dog look it usually had to do with Jack. My latest long face was that I had seen photos of Jack at his surf thingy draped with suntan product models in bikinis and he looked to be enjoying it. “This.” I handed her my phone to show her what was in front of me on the book ledge of my bike.
“He’s so hot!”
“He bats for the other team. It’s purely for publicity, but it hurts a little.”
“He’s the perfect man for you. I’m not sure that he’s gay. Has he ever said, ‘hey, Mitzi, I like dick? Sorry babe, but your sweet-v doesn’t interest me?’ Any proof like that? Because he looks pretty convincing in this photo… like a straight man.” She handed me back the phone as she pedaled alongside me at a higher speed and looked like a female fitness model… or just a model.
Maybe because she was a model and not a pop star singer like her name. Believe it or not, but she was named after a sewing machine, Singer. Her mother had a thing for sewing and all seven of her kids suffered that hobby, but most of them went by other names; Fabrice, Singer, Rayon (Ray), Thread (Ted), Needle (Neal), Bobbin, and Scissor (Cesar). The three girls didn’t mind their given names, but the boys—except for the oldest brother actually used the name Rayon professionally—hated theirs and went by nicknames. Rayon believed his name helped him to be a big time model in Europe for years before turning to acting in films—I think it was because he was gorgeous, but the name did stand out. Singer loved her name for her fashion handbag line and it went well with the last name, Summerfield, which her model agency had given her when she signed with them at only twelve years old when she left home for Europe. Her mother had other kids to raise so an appointed guardian traveled with her and schooled her until she took the GED test at eighteen. I met her when she took a break from modeling for a few years to attend FIDM (Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising) in downtown LA.
We became instant friends working together on a fashion show where she showed off her variety of leather handbags. My first time modeling, along with other girls we wore white bodysuits and carried her entire Singer Summerfield collection; satchels, totes, clutches, minis, and purse accessories. It was so much fun stopping and opening our bags at the end of the runway and pulling out items; leather key fobs, wallets, makeup bags, credit card/ID holders, sunglass cases, and coin purses. I have been addicted to her goods ever since and love that we can exchange accessories—sandals for handbags. The friendship was the best part and I love how she was just like me blurting out exactly how we saw things. If only I could be that way completely with Jack.
“No, of course, I have not come right out and asked him if he was gay. If he wants me to know he will tell me. Everyone comes out of the closet when they are ready, or not. He doesn’t ask me about my preference or whether I’m dating anyone.”
“Well, you could try enticing him on your trip,” Singer huffed as we had moved onto the elliptical machines before hitting the hand weights.
“Are you kidding? I have been naked in front of him on our business trips. He never reacted at all. It was as if I was invisible or his sister… nothing.”
In New York, we were all booked into a temporary living apartment building right around the corner from Rockefeller Plaza. Our unit on the thirty-second floor had a kitchenette, bathroom, bedroom, and a huge living room with a table and chairs set and a pull-out couch. In the middle of the main room of the apartment, sat all of our boxes waiting for us to unpack as we always carefully packed up our collection of shoes and had them shipped a few days ahead to the location of each market. There was no way that we could carry displays and shoes with us on the plane; we knew better. On the plane with carry on and off the plane quickly to a taxi to the hotel or whatever lodging accommodations were part of the market. It was a work, work, work time to make sure everything arrived, and that nothing was damaged.
Opening boxes with a kitchen butter knife since we couldn’t carry scissors on the airplane, we removed all of the displays to show off the shoes. Ours were different heights and sized clear plastic boxes opened at one end so a few of them could easily fit inside of each other. Jack didn’t really like them but until he figured out something better that was what we used. I swear he was trying to figure boxes that were more like LEGOs—which wasn’t a bad idea and probably better for shipping. Boxes in place, we unwrapped the shoes and inserted soft clear foot forms that Jack had designed and had manufactured after our first market where our shoe samples lacked in the looks department after being handled. That was also where Jack upped our manufacturing standards as he had not taken into account that the shoes would be taken in and out of boxes and tried on, and that at least one shoe would be on display in the shoe department.
He was… is so amazing that I decided to surprise him with a massage right there in our room once we got done transforming the living room into our own shoe department moving furniture and adding props that also were shipped ahead. So while I met with a grocery delivery man who brought up non-alcoholic beverages, fruit, and other snacks for us to offer buyers, Jack slipped into the other room to be pampered. I instantly felt a bit jealous of the woman that was giving him a massage, not that I am a jealous person, but I thought that it would be nice to see him naked and run my fingers all over his body. My thoughts didn’t seem to fade as I received my own massage which was nice but I just could not relax wishing that her hands were Jack’s and I was afraid that I just might moan if I gave into her hands caressing my body, attempting to release tension.
I was actually relieved when it was all over and I was, once again, back in my yoga pants and a long sleeve t-shirt. And I was even better when I saw a large pepperoni pizza was waiting for me. I liked Jack’s surprise for me much better than the one I had for him, and indulged in two huge slices with lots of parmesan and cracked red pepper. The bottle of red wine that accompanied it went down rather nicely too.
Done with our yummy dinner, feeling a little tipsy, I decided to take a hot bath to wash off the oils from my skin and out of my hair. Forgetting to grab my robe that was in my bag still in the living room, and needing to use my towel to wrap up my dripping wet hair, I slowly walked out to grab my bag quickly without being seen. Reaching the living room, it was empty so I relaxed, stood up straight, and went to find my bag, searching everywhere, and hello to Jack.
“Looking for your bag?” He asked, calmly.
“Uh, yes,” I said, stupidly standing there not sure what to say or do.
“I put it in the closet.” His words and voice was steady. “Are you done with the bathroom?” I nodded. “Great, I’d like to grab a shower. They sure rub a lot of shit into you.” Then just like nothing, Jack walked right past m
e and booked it to the bathroom.
The door shutting finally had me realizing what had just happened and what had happened on our last trip where we actually shared a bed… king-sized, but still in the same bed. Both times he never appeared interested in my female anatomy and then I had to remind myself that I had met him at a mostly gay fashion party. I also learned that Jack was living with Frank who was openly gay, but Frank was supposedly engaged to a guy named Doug. So that was when I first figured that Jack must still be in the closet about his sexuality and I stopped worrying about covering up my body when we traveled for business.
“Not that I was constantly naked in front of him, but he sure got a view of a lot of bra and panties on me—never seemed to bother him.”
Singer shrugged her shoulders, “Poker face.”
I doubted that. She was just probably thinking the same thing that I was. “So if he’s not gay, he’s as they say, ‘just not into me’ like in that movie.” I sighed at the thought as that was worse than Jack being gay. “What if that was it?”
“And what if it’s not and he’s waiting for you to say or do something? I say feel him out…” She laughed. “…See if he’s different on vacation and make a move or try your naked parading in front of him again.” Hmmm… Maybe.
Chapter Six
Jack
“It’s all set. I got the reservations and plane ticket confirmations. I just need to get her to the other side of the country without her figuring anything out.”
“Maybe you should add me to the company legally before you go; Fritzi Mitzi and Cottontail. In case she kills or just maims you. I could be the silent partner and I could consult on dress shoes, formal-like and casual-funky. You need to expand from your flopsies and stop matching your mopsie.”
“What’s with you and your nursery rhyme names today?”
“Might be my protein shake.”
“I like my flip-flops and before you say it, my black and white checkered Vans are classic.” He could not deny that fact—people commented on them all the time.
“Yes, if you’re twelve… and if you’re a skateboarder… forty is right around the corner and you’ll have to groom that hair of yours too.”
“Why are you bagging on me today? Forty is like thirteen… plus years away.”
“You know when you’re my age it creeps up faster.”
I had to laugh at him as I turned to start paddling to catch a wave. “You’re only four years older than me.”
I heard him faintly shouting. “Yes, and that’s why I lather on the sunscreen and wrinkle cream.”
Up on my board, shooting through the water, bobbing and weaving as I stayed upright, I didn’t give a shit about anything but the moment—no worries about the future.
That all changed when I got into the studio around noon and Mitzi was a fountain of questions and information regarding our trip.
“I have my passport ready. I even got a new cover for it. Look!” She held up a cheetah booklet. “They had so many options at the luggage outlet. I need to have Singer design a line of these. I almost feel guilty using it but it is too damn fab to pass up. Oh, and I picked up some converter cords for us too. We’ll be ready for whatever electricity wattage they throw at us.” She stopped and looked puzzled. “Are you okay, Jack? You look a little pale. Not your usual sun-kissed glow.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she didn’t need any of that stuff. I had her mad at me once and it was not a pretty sight in the end.
We had been going back and forth, not fighting or even arguing, about how the shoe designs could go, opposed to how Mitzi wanted them to go according to her sketches. She wasn’t understanding my explanation so I grabbed a marker… a very wrong marker off my desk. What was supposed to be a washable pen turned out to be a permanent marker. Big oops. I had drawn the sandal designs perfectly on top of her feet—two different ways of the same design—showing the difference of what would work and what would not. So there was Mitzi with five thin straps going across to what would be a fabric flower; above the toe or on the little toe side. When she went to wash off the designs after we snapped a few photos, lo and behold, they wouldn’t budge with soap and water.
I had never seen her in such a panic or so mad since she needed to go to a function and there was no way to hide the designs unless she’d worn socks and boots.
“What the hell am I going to do? I might as well let you go to town and add more fucking flowers.” Mitzi wasn’t one to swear much as she usually made up crazy shit in place of the regular variety so that no one knew that she was pissed or annoyed. She didn’t bother to cover up her anger.
I attempted to make her laugh. “Go barefoot.”
“Not a beach party. It’s at the Music Center. A special ballet gala with tuxedos and gowns. I’m wearing an elegant, beaded, floral-print sheath dress that’s not long enough to hide my feet.” She was licking her fingertips and then rubbing the design, but nothing disappeared.
“Floral… you have flowers on your feet. I can make them match.” It was worth a try.
“You better come up with a better solution. I can’t back out of this date.”
“Date?!” She had not mentioned that she was going on a date. Was that the true reason she was so upset? Who was he to have her so worried? Had she been dating someone? Those were all of the things that ran through my mind as we had never mentioned our social lives outside of working. What we did on the weekends that we weren’t together, stayed on the weekends that we weren’t together.
“Yes. Not one I want to go to… the Rite of Spring ballet is horrible to me as I am not a Stravinsky fan. By the time they dance into the tribal part, I will be ready to go. I never made it past that before—even my mother said, ‘let’s go,’ and started scooting out of her seat.”
It was around that part that tears started to slip and I wasn’t so sure that it had anything to do with the design and a lot to do with the loss of her parents. I only knew about that from a conversation I overheard on the anniversary of their death. Quickly turning to my laptop screen, I needed to make it right and get her to the dreaded performance with her damn date. Thank God the internet didn’t fail me and had a solution along with a nearby place to find coconut oil to remove it all.
The vacation plans that I had drawn up for us might not have an easy remedy if she absolutely hated what I had come up with. Having Frank in my ear and thoughts of failure in Mitzi’s eyes, I decided to up my game and added a little bonus to our adventure. I just hoped that my addition didn’t have her abandoning me to run back to it, leaving me to enjoy the rest of our planned trip together alone at the resort without her. I guess I was going to see just how adventurous my partner could be. There was no turning back so we needed to make the best of it. I, for one, was very excited for our fresh start vacation getaway… it didn’t truly matter where it was as long as I was with Mitzi. It was all about being with her no matter where.
“I could make it work. I would make it work. It will work.”
“What are you chanting about? You almost remind me of that horrible ballet.” I swear to God, she scared me sometimes… it was like she could read my mind. Of course, she couldn’t and if she could she might be offended knowing how I thought about her: Placing her on top of my drafting table when she’s wearing one of her tight dresses that show no panty lines. Sliding it up to her waist, spreading her legs wide open, and dipping my mouth to her smooth lower lips. I knew that she got waxed downstairs because she ran off to regular appointments and I’ve seen it on way too many occasions. My mouth nearly watered thinking about running my tongue over her bare skin, sampling her, exciting her, torturing her with light kisses until she begged me to give her the release she was panting for. I heard my name cried out over and over as she was pushing into my hungry mouth lapping at her… tugging on my hair… It seemed so real.
“Jack! Jack!” I felt Mitzi’s fingers lifting my hair above my ear. “Is there anyone in there, under this mop?” Turn
ing my head toward her, guilt and even more lust slipped over my face and I wanted to capture her lips as she grinned at me. “Where do you keep going? We need to get a little bit of work done before you whisk me away to paradise. Then you can run wild with your thoughts.”
I only hoped that she was still calling it that once we arrived at our intended location and that I still had a partner when it was all over. I mean, it really was a great place according to the website with a lot of outdoor activities available in a beautiful area. She could not deny the surroundings were breathtaking. She did say she was ready to explore new things and get in touch with all things offered. I told her that a lot of walking would be involved and she was okay with that if I promised to rub her feet. That was a given, when didn’t I rub her feet? They were so pretty and delicate and soft and always painted—a must when you wear sandals. That was her philosophy and why she had regular pedicures, claiming that they were an essential business expense.
Oh, how I loved my Mitzi and all of her quirkiness. She made me smile and laugh every day. Only a few more days, I thought as I worked alongside her finalizing some paperwork, and she was all mine alone in the wilderness.