Stilettos and Steel

by Jeri Estes

  Bunny went to the king-sized bed and pulled back the clean white sheets. I stood awkwardly by the foot of the bed. She went to the sink in the bathroom and took the paper cover off the glass on the counter. She struggled to twist the cap off the bottle of Jack with her delicate fingers. I heard a quick snap.

  “Damn, I broke a nail!”

  She managed to pour me a drink, which she handed over with two Darvocets. “Take these. They’ll help you relax.”

  “Okay,” I answered gratefully. I popped the pills into my mouth and washed them down with a big swig. Mentally preparing myself to perform, I went to the bed, sat down and reached to unbuckle my pants. Bunny’s hand stopped me as she began to undress me again. My stomach quivered as she touched my lower abdomen.

  The busty bombshell looked into my eyes and said, “I’m going to go home now. I want you to sleep and not worry about Jean. I’ll come by in the morning.” Bunny opened her purse and pulled out a bill from a wad of cash. “Here’s a twenty in case you get hungry. If you need anything else, just call the desk, all right?”

  I looked up at her, bewildered, and wondered, “What kind of whore is this?” Bunny gently kissed me on the forehead and whispered, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She closed the thick drapes over the Venetian blinds, turned off the lights and walked out of the room. As she closed the door softly behind her, I lay back on the clean sheets and rested my head on the soft, fresh-smelling pillows.

  The Jack and the Darvocets kicked in. Yet even as my body unclenched, my mind tried to figure out: Why was Bunny being so nice to me?

  Chapter 5

  TITS ‘N PEARL GIRL

  The warmth of the morning sun tickled my eyelids. I slowly came back to life. It felt strange to have a crisp, clean sheet under my naked legs. I couldn’t believe all the space I had in the soft king-size bed. Like a camper arriving back to civilization, the luxury of creature comforts intoxicated me.

  Flexing my fingers, I felt the gauze on the palm of my left hand and gently touched each finger, measuring their size. Pleasantly surprised, I realized they weren’t as swollen as yesterday.

  I sat up and looked down at my blue-and-white checkered boxer shorts. It occurred to me that I didn’t have to fuck anybody last night for anything. This was so unusual, I shook my head in disbelief.

  I spotted my lighter on the end table and immediately remembered the roach still in the little pocket of my jeans. Looking around the room, I searched for my Levi’s. I had just spotted them on the floor when I heard a timid-sounding knock at the door.

  “Who is it?” I asked groggily.

  “It’s me, Bunny!” she replied with a spring in her voice.

  “Are you alone?”

  “Of course, Jesse,” she responded brightly. “Let me in!”

  In my wife-beater and boxers, looking cool like Stanley Kowalski in A Streetcar Named Desire, I strutted across the orange shag carpet. I opened the door cautiously, still fearful of an encounter with a human refrigerator.

  On the other side of the screen was a femme on a mission. Bunny’s petite feet arched in white high-heeled “fuck me” pumps. They showed off her beautifully defined calves. Her pink capri pants outlined her young, superb ass. Slung over her bare shoulder, Bunny carried a matching white leather purse on a strap which appeared soft and expensive. It reminded me of the white tuck-and-roll leather seats in the Cadillac.

  Bunny had a carton of Pall Malls under her arm, and in her petite hand was a Bullocks Wilshire shopping bag. Encircling her pretty little wrist was a diamond tennis bracelet, the only jewelry she had on besides a simple strand of white pearls around her neck. Her low-cut, snug-fitting white blouse was the perfect showcase for her tits.

  “Come on in,” I said to the tits n’ pearl girl. Bunny looked up at me sweetly and I instantly felt that strange masculine power well up inside me. The alluring femme sauntered into the room. Her tight ass under the pink capris made me want to bend her over the side of the sofa and fuck her from behind.

  This thought startled me, because I hadn’t made love with anyone since Carmen. Sex was just a job for me. To desire this pretty young woman caught me off-guard. Bunny turned around, smiling brightly, and asked me in her naughty breathless voice, “Are you hungry, honey?”

  Unexpectedly, glorious warmth radiated through my chest. Her addressing me as “honey” had a profound effect on me. I stood before her, trying to comprehend this odd feeling. I finally realized this strange sensation was hope. I was starting to trust this chick. In a quiet voice I responded, “I was thinking of having a Hostess Cupcake and a beer.”

  Bunny’s response was a warm and tender smile. She came closer and said, “Jesse, look at me.” I reluctantly raised my head and looked her in the eye. She asked me straight out, “Jesse, do you think I want something from you?”

  That question made me feel back in control. After all, I could understand somebody wanting something from me. With an arrogant grin, I replied, “Yeah.”

  She smiled back at me and asked, “What do you have?”

  I had to laugh as I thought, “What did I have?” I realized that all I had was a staph infection, no money, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a Zippo lighter and my Saint Christopher medal. As I laughed, Bunny laughed with me. We just stood for a few moments giggling like children, celebrating the blissful joy of connection.

  “Jesse, let me run you a nice bath so you can clean up and get dressed,” offered Bunny. “I thought we could go over to Edward’s for steak and eggs. I’m hungry!”

  “Okay,” I replied as I followed her into the spacious bathroom. Bunny turned the faucet handles and water gushed into the tub. Pulling back the shower curtain, she said, “Test the temperature.”

  “I like it pretty hot, being half-Castilian Spaniard,” I said, using my best Rico Suave Latin lover act. My roots offered me the best combination: Spanish for passion and English for class. I was hoping she could sense the lustful impetuosity in my romantic blood.

  “I’ll help you take your shirt off,” said Bunny, appearing unimpressed with my Latin playboy act.

  Self-consciously, I avoided her proposal.

  “I’ve seen them before,” said Bunny matter-of-factly.

  “Okay, but look the other way,” I said, unaccountably shy.

  Bunny removed my sling and gently held my sore arm as she pulled my shirt over my head. I felt the warmth of her fingers as they touched my back while she skillfully removed the safety pin securing my binder. Her hands brushed across my breasts as she unraveled my device of deception.

  She neatly folded the Ace bandage as I stood before her in my boxers with my good arm covering my breasts. She just smiled at me, turned and walked out of the bathroom, softly closing the door behind her.

  I double-checked the water, which was actually too hot, even for a Latin lover. After a solid shot of cold water, it felt soothing and the solitude was very peaceful. I relaxed, thinking it was so nice to have someone run a bath for me. What I missed most about Carmen was the thoughtful little things she did for me.

  I kept my bandaged hand dry and rested it on the side of the tub. I was relieved to see that the red line of blood poisoning up my wrist was gone.

  I heard a tentative tap-tap on the door. I pulled the shower curtain open just a little, exposing my head. Bunny stood there holding a glass of my favorite amber liquid. In her other hand were two Darvocets, my lighter and a nice big fat joint.

  My whole face lit up. “Damn, girl, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven! Are you sure you’re not an angel of mercy? Good God, Florence Nightingale has nothing on you, girl.”

  I was pleasantly surprised that I sounded like my old self. In fact, I sounded better: as cool and charming as the sweet-talking mac daddies charming their whores at the bar, spoonfeeding them flattery, so they would go to bed with people they wouldn’t have lunch with.

  Bunny handed me the pills. I popped them in my mouth and washed them down with the booze. She put the join
t in her mouth, fired it up, and handed it to me without taking a hit.

  I felt like a king with my huge balls floating in the warm tub. In a gallant, cavalier voice, I said to my angel of mercy as I motioned toward the toilet seat, “My fair young maiden, please sit down on this lovely throne, here in my luxurious chambers, and smoke a joint with me.”

  Bunny smiled at me, amused. “Maybe later, baby. I don’t smoke grass before work. I’m going to make a few business calls, and when you’re finished taking a bath, we’ll go eat.”

  A while later, Bunny tapped on the door, slightly opened it and said, “By the way, I picked up a new shirt, underwear and socks for you.”

  “Cool. Just put them on the toilet,” I replied, impressed.

  Bunny entered the bathroom and hung a beautiful silk navy blue-and-white paneled short-sleeved shirt on a hook. She laid the boxers, t-shirt and socks on the toilet seat.

  As she left the bathroom, she casually added, “Call me if you need help getting dressed, okay?”

  “Okay, thanks,” I called after her.

  I checked out the groovy bad boy shirt and said, “Far out.”

  Soaking in the tub with a glass of Jack in one hand and a joint in the other, I wondered if Carmen was taking a bath right now with a butch waiting on her. After all, I did go AWOL. Dampening my mood quicker than the cooling water was the thought of her with another lover. Quickly, I shook myself free of that fucking bummer and thought of more pleasant things.

  I was starting to find Bunny’s softness very attractive. In some ways, she reminded me of Carmen. She had a determination in her walk and a calm, take-charge attitude. Yet she didn’t come across as being bossy. I heard a tap on the door again.

  “How’re you doing in there?”

  I replied in a mellow voice, “I’ll be out in a minute, thanks.” I stood up with water dripping from my young lean body. I quickly toweled myself dry. I got dressed but left the sling off and looked in the mirror. The expensive shirt was cut just right and fit my shoulders perfectly.

  I struggled with my shoes though. Coming in, Bunny kneeled down in front of me and carefully slipped them on. Trying not to betray my attraction, I casually remarked, “Hey, Bunny, thanks for the shirt. It’s really nice. You know, I’m surprised you even knew who I was when I came into the bar yesterday.”

  She continued putting on the second shoe. “Silly, I see you come in the Open Door all the time. I’ve even poured you drinks a couple of times. I think you were too wasted to notice.” She tied the laces with firm, definite strokes. “It’s always Jack, straight up with a water back. It’s usually the old queens buying shots for you, I’ve noticed.”

  I sheepishly answered, “Yeah, they’re cool. Uh, I’ve had a rough couple of months.”

  After she tied my shoes, Bunny got up and said, “Let’s go, I’m famished.”

  “What about the Jack and the cupcakes? We just can’t leave ‘em.”

  Bunny expressed her first sign of exasperation as she answered, “Honey, I rented the room for a week. It’s yours, and it’ll be here when you get back.” She turned around and left.

  I stopped at the door, cautiously poked my head out, looked to the right and left and quickly inspected the parking lot. Directly beneath the balcony I could see the pink convertible. Satisfied that Tattoo Jean was not around, I walked behind Bunny to the car.

  Her hips swayed from side to side with her white leather purse. Staring at her ass in the hot pink capris, I tripped on a little music in my head, and with each swing of her hips, I heard a rhythmic, “ba-boom, ba-boom…” Shaking my head to stop the silly trip I was on, I casually asked her, “Where is Jean, by the way?”

  Without skipping a beat in the sway of her hips, she replied, “I left her.”

  I lost my composure for a moment. “Oh, wow, man. What’s up with that?”

  The pretty femme turned and faced me square-on. “I’ll fill you in more at the restaurant. Let’s just say, I need a partner that can seize a prime opportunity.” She tapped me firmly on the chest. “Like you.”

  Chapter 6

  PIMP 101

  I swept open the heavy wooden door to Edward’s Steak House, letting Bunny pass through the entrance in front of me. The welcome coolness of air conditioning and aroma of juicy steaks greeted us. Looking up at the round wooden-framed clock on the wall, I realized it was much later than I had thought.

  It wasn’t busy due to the late afternoon hour. A fat, balding man was sitting by himself in the corner booth at the back of the room. Wearing a cheap blue blazer and a loosened wide-striped tie, the disheveled gentleman was nursing a cup of coffee and eating a piece of apple pie. He smiled broadly as we entered and shouted, “Hi Bunny!”

  She smiled back. “Hi, Bob. Nice seeing you. I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Jesse.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Bob.” My mother and father had always taught me to be polite. Good manners were a must in my household, and being polite was second nature to me. Bob sized me up, trying to figure out what kind of girlfriend I was. We sat down in the worn red leather booth right next to his. A boisterous elderly woman came to our table and sang out in a warm deep southern accent, “Hi girls, welcome to Edward’s. Isn’t it a beautiful day? Bunny honey, you look just lovely.” She drawled the word “lovely” as if it was a mile long.

  Bunny responded with warmth. “My, Miss Alabam, you certainly are cheerful today.”

  “Well honey, I believe in having an attitude of gratitude.”

  Bunny laughed and said, “It shows in your twinkling eyes.”

  Alabam grabbed a small pad and pencil from her pocket, asking, “You ladies know what you want yet?”

  Bunny cheerfully asked me, “What are you going to have?”

  Quickly, shame dampened my good mood. “I’m not really hungry.”

  Actually, I was starving. I was also sick of living perpetually broke. I thought about the twenty in my pocket which Bunny had given me. I decided it was best not to eat anything so I could hang onto the money.

  “You have to eat something,” Bunny encouraged.

  “Nah, I’m not that hungry. It’s cool.”

  “Come on, Jesse. You can take me out next time.”

  “All right.” With my old swagger, I placed my order. “I’ll have a T-bone steak, scrambled eggs with sliced tomatoes, sourdough bread, a little strawberry jelly, and if you don’t mind, I would like a Hostess Cupcake for dessert.”

  “I’ll have the same,” Bunny added, smiling, “but you can hold the cupcake.”

  Amused by my burst of confidence, Bunny looked at me intently. “So, did you grow up in Los Angeles, Jesse?”

  “No, I grew up in the Valley. For the past few years, I’ve been living in the Tenderloin.”

  “I love the TL. I’ve done a lot of business up there.”

  “Yeah, I love it up there too. I can’t wait to get back. I just came down to L.A. to visit my kid brother, but I got kinda hung up here.”

  Bunny daintily wiped the corner of her mouth with a white linen napkin, giving me an all-knowing glance. Graciously, she avoided the subject of my getting “hung up” and asked, “How’d you end up in the Tenderloin?”

  Like a true butch, I said in a macho tone, “I hitchhiked.”

  Bunny was pleased by my adventurous spirit. “That’s brave. It’s quite a trip from the Valley.”

  “It has been quite a trip!” I laughed.

  “Do you always hitchhike? It can be dangerous, especially if they find out you’re a girl,” she reprimanded me softly, showing a hint of cautious feminine wisdom.

  I nodded casually. “The first time I hitchhiked was when I ran away from home to Hollywood. I had picked a bullshit fight with my mother. I ran out of the house, declaring that I wanted my freedom.”

  “Is that a pattern of yours, Jesse?” Bunny inquired coyly.

  “Femmes, always the detectives,” I quipped back with a teasing grin.

  “Actually, I just need
ed an excuse to leave home. The week before, when my girlfriends and I had been out dancing at Gazzarri’s, I was befriended by an exotic Hollywood girl named Angel, and she loved my Valley girl clothes. She had told me that if I was ever in Hollywood, I should look her up and we could party together.”

  That special time of my first taste of freedom came back to me all in a rush.

  “The magic word was ‘party’. The next week, after the fight with my mom, I went to Hollywood looking for her. I showed up on Angel’s doorstep and told her I had run away. Angel took me in and we partied all over Hollywood, hitting all the clubs, having a blast. My biggest concern was that she might find out that I liked women instead of boys and kick me out. I lived with her for two weeks before I realized that ‘she’ was a ‘he’!

  “I threw my hands in the air. I ran around Angel’s apartment shouting, ‘Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty, I’m free at last!’”

  Bunny started laughing hard for the first time since I’d met her. Her laughter was as happy as mine was the night I found out that my roommate was a faggot.

  “Well,” I continued, “Angel worked at the Queen Mary on Ventura Boulevard in Studio City. She was Diana Ross of the Supremes in the nightclub’s drag show. Her sequin-gowned sissy backup singers were Miss Zada and Miss Penny.”

  I told Bunny how great it was being openly gay and having queer friends. My only concern was getting caught by my family and being forced to go back home. So when Miss Zada and Miss Penny said they were going to San Francisco, I jumped at the chance to join them. The three of us put flowers in our hair and hitchhiked along Pacific Coast Highway to San Francisco.

  Miss Zada and Miss Penny were dressed in adorable miniskirts, long black wigs and stiletto heels. They looked like two hot black chicks with a little too-large Adam’s apples. I was wearing the latest in runaway fashion, a guy’s shirt that I had bought from a five-and-dime store and, under my men’s Levi’s, knee-high boots with spiked heels, which were the rage at Taft High School.