Gigolo Girl

by Layce Gardner

  Mildred explained, “She’s a gigolo girl.” She held her hand up to belly button level, saying, “About yay tall.”

  “That’s right,” Desiree said, “And we’re here to collect the money you owe her, plus damages.”

  “I don’t owe her any money,” a deep, cultured voice said from behind them. Desiree and Mildred spun around and saw a regal woman wearing a pink bustier and fishnet stockings with garters standing in the doorway. “And unhand my maid.”

  “Who are you?” Desiree asked.

  “Yeah, who are you?” Mildred echoed.

  “Who are you?” the woman asked in return.

  “I asked first,” Desiree said.

  “I asked second,” Mildred said.

  “I am Kimberly Larson the Third,” the woman said.

  Mildred pointed at the Latino woman. “Then who is she?”

  “That’s my maid,” Kimberly Larson the Third said.

  “Huh,” Desiree grunted. That explanation actually made sense. Not to be politically incorrect but this was Texas and the Latina probably was the maid and the woman who said she was Kimberly was wearing a pair of black Jimmy Choo high heels that Desiree knew for a fact went for three grand.

  “What are you doing in my house?” the real Kimberly Larson the Third asked.

  “We have something for you,” Desiree said, reaching into her messenger bag. “Right, Mildred?”

  Mildred was too busy gawping at the pink satin, laces, and breasts to answer. Desiree poked her in the ribs bringing her sensibilities back from planet Gawp.

  “Uh, yeah, okay,” Mildred said. “We have something for you.”

  “And what would that be?” Kimberly Larson the Third said in a snotty tone.

  Desiree pulled a roll of duct tape out of the bag and handed it over to Mildred while addressing Kimberly Larson the Third, “You have to pay damages to Fessa for her hair loss due to your negligence with the vacuum cleaner.”

  “I will not. It was the vacuum cleaner’s fault,” Kimberly Larson the Third said. She defiantly stared at them, openly daring them to do anything about it.

  “That figures. You rich people never take responsibility for anything. Mildred, are you ready? And you hold the dog,” Desiree said, thrusting the leash at the maid who was so used to taking orders that she took it without question.

  Desiree lunged at Kimberly Larson the Third and pinned her arms to her sides. Mildred quickly pulled the stuffed mailman out of the messenger bag. She had carefully put the toy back together using duct tape. He had turned out looking like a mini-Frankenstein version of the original mailman. Next, Mildred quickly duct-taped the mailman to Kimberly Larson the Third’s upper thigh.

  Kimberly Larson the Third looked down at her leg. “What on earth?”

  Desiree snatched the leash from the housekeeper. “Last chance. Pay up or else,” Desiree said.

  “Or else what? You’ll tape me up with more slobbery stuffed animals? Ooooh, scary.”

  “Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Desiree said. She pointed Li’l D’s nose in the direction of the mailman, saying, “Look! Look, it’s a mailman!”

  Li’l D’s nose quivered. She caught scent of the mailman toy. She barked, growled, and lunged at Kimberly Larson the Third, saliva spraying every which way, her toenails clicking and clacking on the marble floor tying to find purchase.

  Desiree unclipped Li’l D’s leash and watched in fascination as Kimberly Larson the Third screamed and ran with Li’l D ferociously snapping at her Choo shoes.

  Li’l D chased her quarry through the entry way and around the sunken living room like she was a greyhound and Kimberly Larson the Third was a mechanical rabbit. They ran through the dining room and into the kitchen, back around the dining room and into the living room again. Kimberly Larson the Third’s high heels slid on the marble floors as she skidded around a corner, knocking over the gilded French Rococo table in the entryway, sending unopened mail into the air. Kimberly Larson the Third fell down the stairs going into the sunken living room and scrabbled back to her feet. She threw off her shoes and jumped on top of the baby grand piano.

  Li’l D danced around the piano on her hind legs with jaws snapping and slobber spraying.

  “Anything you want, anything,” Kimberly Larson the Third sobbed as she tried to tear the stuffed mailman from her thigh. “You can have it. Anything.”

  “Now that’s better,” Desiree said. She picked up one of Kimberly Larson the Third’s discarded high heels and fed it to Li’l D. Li’l D plopped down onto the floor and began to rip at the shoe with her pointed teeth.

  Desiree laughed. “Brings a whole new meaning to Jimmy Choo shoes, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t get it,” Mildred said.

  “Choo shoes. Chew shoes.”

  “I still don’t get it.”

  “Forget it,” Desiree said. She looked back to Kimberly Larson the Third. “You did say anything we wanted, right?”

  Do You Think I’m Sexty?

  “Hot damn!” Desiree said, pounding the steering wheel of her car. “We’re amazing. I might just change occupations. That was a blast. Kimberly Larson the Third isn’t going to screw around with us anymore.”

  Mildred refrained from saying that she probably wouldn’t be a client anymore either, but they had extorted ten thousand dollars from her for the hair plugs that Fessa would need to replace her lost follicles. The other thing Mildred had trouble wrapping her mind around was that Kimberly Larson the Third had ten grand in cash in her house—was that like grocery money or something? But then she never had understood the ways and means of the rich.

  Li’l D was pretty happy too. After all, her tummy was full of mailman stuffing and hamburgers. She settled into the back seat and was snoring within seconds.

  Desiree started the car and looked over at Mildred. “Didn’t you have fun?”

  Mildred didn’t want to be a buzz kill, but she wasn’t sure that attacking a woman with a poodle was the right thing to do. Sometimes, her upbringing pinged on her head like rain on a tin roof. “Well, she did deserve it,” she admitted.

  “But?” Desiree said, pulling away from the curb.

  “She just looked so terrified. I’ve never intentionally scared a person before.”

  “Okay, maybe it was a little harsh, but you do have to admit that the woman was a self-centered bitch.”

  “Yes, she was pushy and mean-spirited. And she did hurt Fessa.” Mildred still didn’t sound too sure of herself.

  “And she didn’t give a shit about it either.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “We gave her a chance to do the right thing and she didn’t. This was Old Testament justice.”

  Put in that context, Mildred found herself more amenable to her part in the extortion. “Well, when you put it that way.”

  “See, it’s all cool,” Desiree said. She rather liked that Mildred had a conscience. Maybe the stereotype of the hooker with a heart of gold had some truth to it after all.

  Desiree drove from the swanky part of town and headed downtown to the gym where Heavenly Bliss was waiting for them.

  “I hope Heavenly Bliss is going to be all right with Miss Daisy’s new look,” Mildred said, biting her lip.

  “Me too,” Desiree said. And for the first time all evening she looked nervous. They rode in silence a few minutes until Desiree’s phone beeped with a text message.

  “That’s probably one of my sexter clients,” Desiree said.

  “You want to pull over and answer it?” Mildred said.

  “I probably should.” Desiree pulled into a parking lot and fished her phone out of her pocket. “It’s Cassie.” She handed the phone to Mildred. “You do the sexting while I drive. It’ll be good practice for you.”

  “But I don’t know her!”

  “You don’t have to know her. That’s the beauty of sexting. It’s also germ-free.”

  “But I’ve never done it before,” Mildred said. “I don’t know how to
sext.”

  “Then it’s high time you learned. And I’m right here to help you.”

  “Well, okay,” Mildred said. She didn’t want to shirk her education, but most of all she didn’t want to disappoint Desiree. She poised her thumbs over the qwerty keyboard. “What do I say?”

  “Just start off by telling her how pretty she is,” Desiree said.

  “But I don’t know what she looks like.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Be vague. All women love to hear how pretty they are.”

  Mildred nodded and texted: You are so pretty and sexy.

  She repeated the text to Desiree, asking, “Is it okay I added the sexy part?”

  “Sure. Pretty is good,” Desiree said, merging onto the Bon Chance Expressway, “But sexy is better. Now tell her what you’re doing to her.”

  Mildred: I am running my fingers through your hair.

  Mildred asked, “Do you know what kind of hair she has?”

  “No, I’ve never met her in person.”

  “Really?”

  “Anonymity is part of the gig. Sexters like that part. It’s very liberating for them.”

  Mildred knitted her eyebrows in deep thought. She asked, “So, I should be genetic?”

  Desiree knew what Mildred meant generic. “Exactly.”

  “What did you say her name was?”

  “It’s Cassie. I don’t think that’s her real name but that’s what she told me.”

  Mildred read the texts out loud as she sent and received them.

  Mildred: Cassie, you have such pretty eyes. I want to fall into their wanton pools of desire.

  “Wanton pools of desire?” Desiree gag-laughed. “Please tell me you didn’t text that!”

  “Lesbians are all about eyes!” Mildred said. “I’d text something about their color like how they’re emerald or cerulean but you don’t know what she looks like and I don’t know how to spell cerulean.”

  Desiree’s phone beeped. It was a text back from Cassie. Mildred read it to Desiree.

  Cassie: You wax poetic today. It makes me hot.

  “What’s she doing with wax?” Mildred asked.

  “It just means that she likes what you’re doing,” Desiree said. “She must get off on the romance angle. Who knew?”

  Mildred: Your true beauty brings out my romantic side. I imagine us at a very expensive Italian restaurant sitting at a candle lit table.

  Desiree poked her finger in her mouth in the universal throw-up gesture.

  “Stop it. You’re distracting me,” Mildred said with a giggle.

  Mildred: with white linen napkins and tiny pickle forks.

  “Pickle forks?” Desiree said.

  “I’m setting the scene.”

  Cassie: Tell me more.

  Mildred: While the waiter pours our wine, I kick off my heels. I rub my stocking foot against your calf and then up your thigh.

  Cassie: Oh, baby.

  “This is fun,” Mildred said.

  “By all means carry on,” Desiree said.

  Mildred: You raise your glass of expensive wine. You taste it. I want to press my lips against yours and taste the wine on them. I want to be the wine sliding down your gullet.”

  Mildred read what she texted to Desiree.

  “Gullet! What’s that? Chicken talk?” Desiree squawked.

  Mildred ignored her.

  Cassie: I watch you sip wine and I want to kiss your lips and run my tongue down your gullet, licking your silky softness.

  “See, she used the word gullet, too” Mildred said.

  “I don’t think she knows what a gullet is,” Desiree said. “I’m not even sure I know what it is.”

  “It’s your craw,” Mildred said as if that explained it all.

  “They’re both weird words,” Desiree said.

  “It adds character,” Mildred replied. “Just be quiet and drive, I got this.”

  Mildred: I reach across the table and take your hand in mind. I lean in and our lips entwine. I can feel the heat of our desire melting the pickle forks.

  Desiree laughed so hard she snorted and gasped.

  “Stop it. I can’t concentrate.”

  Cassie: I can feel it too. I want to go to the bathroom.

  Mildred: Okay. I’ll wait.

  Cassie: I mean I want you to come into the bathroom with me.

  “Why does she want me to go to the bathroom with her?” Mildred asked. “She’s not one of those women who likes to pee on people is she?”

  “No. She likes to have sex in a bathroom stall. It’s like a classic lesbian scene. Haven’t you ever read lesbian erotica? Characters are always doing each other in a bathroom stall.”

  “It seems unsanitary. Just sayin’.”

  “Keep going. You’re just getting to the good stuff,” Desiree said.

  “I’ve don’t know how to do it in a bathroom. It seems like it’d be kind of cramped.”

  “Pretend, Mildred. It’s sexting. No germs, no cramped quarters. Now you better hurry. We’re ten minutes away from the gym.”

  Mildred: Okay, we are in the bathroom. I shut the door and press against you.

  Cassie: I am so hot for you.

  Mildred: I put my hand on your garden of delight.

  Cassie: Ooooh, baby.

  Desiree giggled. Mildred shot her a warning look.

  Mildred: I turn you around. I press my woman center into your rump. I knead your breasts and do the shake and bake up and down your backside.

  “What the hell’s a shake and bake?” Desiree asked.

  “I don’t know; I made it up. I’m hungry and it just came out that way.”

  Cassie: I want you so bad. You’re so naughty.

  “See? She liked it,” Mildred said. “She’s into the cooking thing.”

  “In that case, leave off the bathroom scene and go with food,” Desiree said.

  Mildred: I put on an apron.

  Cassie: Oh yes, baby. An apron and nothing else.

  Mildred: I knead your breasts like they’re lumps of raw dough.

  Cassie: Mmmmm…

  Mildred: I kneel at your garden of delight.

  Cassie: Oh my God…

  Mildred: and pluck and suck on your…

  Mildred stopped typing and looked at Desiree. “What vegetable is most like a vagina?”

  “Is this a riddle?”

  Mildred said, “Hurry! Give me a vegetable! Any vegetable!”

  “Tomato.”

  “Tomato is a fruit!” Mildred said.

  “Only a farm girl knows that. Cassie won’t care anyway,” Desiree said.

  “Okay.” Mildred went back to typing.

  Mildred: green tomato.

  “I made it a green tomato because of the movie reference,” Mildred said.

  Cassie: Pluck it, baby, suck it.

  Mildred: No, not yet…

  Cassie: Please…

  Mildred: First, I dip it in flour and

  Cassie: Oh…

  Mildred: dredge it in an egg and milk mixture.

  Cassie: My…

  Mildred: I throw it in the skillet.

  Cassie: God…

  Mildred: And fry it up good.

  Cassie: Yes!

  Mildred: In hot, hot, hot oil.

  Cassie: Yes, yes!

  Mildred: Tastes so good!

  Cassie: Yes, yes, yes!

  Mildred: In my mouth.

  Cassie: Oh!

  Mildred: Eat it all up.

  Cassie: Oh oh! Oooooh…

  Mildred: Yummy in my tummy.

  Cassie: My God woman you are fantastic.

  Mildred: It was good for me too.

  Cassie: TTYL

  Mildred: Bye bye

  Desiree pulled into the parking lot at the gym and scored a spot near the front door. “For some odd reason, I’m hungry.”

  Heavenly’s Bliss

  Despite it being midnight, the gym was pumping out a techno beat and girls were exercising their asses off. Because it was Sunday night, a
ll the gigolo girls were off work. Like Honey Belle said, “Even God himself rested one day a week.”

  When Desiree and Mildred walked into the gym everybody stopped exercising and stared at them. At first Mildred thought her fly was open or she had toilet paper stuck to her shoe. But that wasn’t it at all. Everybody was really staring at Li’l D and her transformation.

  Li’l D took it in stride. She pranced off to the back of the gym like she was Grand Marshall of the Rose Parade.

  Candy Sweet and Velvet Thrust jumped off their treadmills. “How’d it go?” Candy Sweet asked.

  “Did you kill her?” Velvet Thrust asked.

  “We didn’t kill anybody,” Desiree said.

  Before Desiree could explain any further, a voice bellowed from the back room, “What in the holy hell did you do to my dog?!” Heavenly Bliss strode out of her office with Li’l D tucked under one arm. She saw Desiree and Mildred and steamrolled toward them. “You all turned Miss Daisy black!”

  Desiree and Mildred hid behind Velvet Thrust’s back. Mildred peeked over Velvet Thrust’s shoulder and said, “I believe the correct terminology is African-American.”

  “She’s not from Africa!” Heavenly Bliss screamed. “She’s a white dog! I paid good money to have a little white dog and you done made her a dog of color!”

  Desiree knew that when Heavenly Bliss got this worked up, there was only one thing that would settle her down. So she held that one thing out in front of Heavenly Bliss’s nose.

  Heavenly Bliss’s eyes widened and her nostrils flared. Then she smiled. She grabbed the stack of money and fanned herself with it. “How much is here?”

  “Ten grand,” Desiree said. “More than enough for Fessa’s hair plugs.”

  “And to bleach Li’l D back to white,” Mildred added.

  “Li’l D?” Heavenly Bliss said.

  “That’s Miss Daisy’s gangsta name,” Mildred said. “We thought Miss Daisy didn’t strike the right amount of fear in the heart.”

  “She’s a poodle. Poodles aren’t supposed to be fear-evoking dogs,” Heavenly Bliss said.

  Desiree laughed. “Well, somebody needs to tell Li’l D that. ‘Cause she sure struck the fear of God into Kimberly Larson the Third.”

  Heavenly Bliss lifted Li’l D up in the air and kissed her on the nose. She talked baby talk to her, “Iz dat wight? Iz my wittle puppy wuppy dog a big bad gansta?”