Only Skin Deep

by Mahalia Levey

  What did she know of romance, of seduction? Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

  One of the book’s suggestions was to mail a man a pair of panties or wake him up with oral sex. Nadja blushed and closed the book.

  Looking back on the path her life had taken amazed her. Singing wasn’t a planned career. Yet when she’d surfed for a job, she’d fallen right into it, and with the right look, she made a nice salary. Her dear friend, Deja, helped her find a more sophisticated appearance, and a trip to Craze gave her a wardrobe she didn’t have to purchase. She’d come a long way since leaving home.

  No longer was she a varsity football player on her high school team. Her family had wanted a change, and she didn’t blame them. It wasn’t as if she’d ever play pro football or wanted to. She played her heart out, and even against the odds she’d proven herself a true athlete, but did that make her any less a true woman? Could she be? The sad fact was she lacked courage when dealing with the male species, except when it came to landing in the friend zone.

  Her few failed relationships had left a permanent mark on her, convincing her she was sexually inept. One man in particular had defined her as a waste of time. Marc had no problem reiterating how unhappy her lack of being a girly female had made him. Callous statements hurt regardless of whether or not they were made jokingly. Marc had bombarded her with insults and harsh words. He’d questioned why she couldn’t act like his friends’ wives, who were normal women. While the comparisons hurt, his worst insults were the ones that attacked their sex life—or rather their lack of one.

  Nadja had begun to feel unattractive around him. Her self-esteem had taken a beating since Marc, so she’d chosen to shy away from relationships, effectively avoiding falling into the same sinkhole of nothingness. Turning around her self-image took work, and she was doing that.

  The jazz tone of her cell pulled her from thoughts of her ex. “Hello?” Nadja leaned back on her couch, clutching the phone to her ear.

  “Chica, what ya doin’?”

  “Nursing a root beer and reading.”

  “Oh, what?”

  “How to Seduce Your Man,” Nadja rattled off.

  “Yeah, you skipped a whole book.”

  “Leena!”

  “Well, you need to get the man first. Unless you’re studying the dirty parts.”

  Nadja knew her friend teased to get under her skin. “Think I should mail Donato a pair of my panties?”

  “I think I should come over and roleplay some more with you. Get you up on your game.”

  “Sure. This coming from the girl who waited a year before deciding to get Jason’s attention?” She snorted.

  “That just means I have recent experience.”

  Nadja tightened her hand on her cell. “Yeah, a whole six months’ worth.”

  “So how are you going to get his attention?”

  Nadja shrugged off the irritation rising rapidly within her. “Invite him over for a beer and football game?”

  “That’s not sexy.”

  “I’m not a girly girl or someone who drinks frou-frou cocktails. I don’t like malls, drama flicks or dressing up like I’m in some fashion show. Give me action or thrillers and sports documentaries. I. Am. Not. Sexy.”

  She heard a sigh on the other end. “But a guy doesn’t want to sleep with one of the guys who just happens to be a girl. He wants a woman.”

  “I know, but at least I have all the right parts, so that’s half the battle.” Nadja nodded to herself. She knew guys thought about sex about every four minutes, so the odds were in her favor.

  “Where’s the woman I see on stage performing?”

  She knew Taleena meant well, but sometimes, she just wanted to throttle her. “She’s performing. It’s an act. The sexual being up there is not the flesh and blood girl. I don’t want to be the sparkle and pizzazz female. I just want a man to accept me for—well, me.”

  “I have to go. There’s a man glaring at me. Break time is over. I know you’re not a pinup girl, but just try to tone down the tomboy status. Any man who doesn’t love you for yourself can piss off. I love you. I just want to see you happy. Maybe you could drink your beer out of a chilled glass instead of the bottle.”

  What a waste of a clean glass. “Sure I could. Talk to you later,” Nadja said as she hung up the phone and took her soda off the coaster. The sweaty bottle nearly slipped out of her hand. Though it was tepid at best, she finished the rest of the sweet drink and hugged her knees to her chest.

  With two hours to spare, Nadja picked up her favorite magazine, thumbing the dog-eared pages. Fashion remained elusive to her. Her heels for work had inserts to make them easier to wear. Her friends all boasted beauty meant sacrifice. The screaming sore muscles in her legs were hard pressed to agree after a night of standing around.

  “The Secret to Making Your Boyfriend Happy.” One had to wonder where columnists got the answers. And what made them qualified to ask the questions in the first place. Not that she needed the advice. I don’t have a boyfriend. Why? Because I’ll never trust a man enough to lower my guard for a second time.

  Giving the thick fashion and relationship bible one more glance, Nadja gave a derisive snort and tossed it in the wastebasket. Inspiration seized her, and she walked across her sunny living room to her baby grand piano. Her previous night’s work lay in front of her. The music sheet was filled with music notes and lyrics. Soon she’d be done with “Let Me Be Me” and ready to test it out at her job.

  She took in the stark white keys as she warmed up. Wood polish lingered in the air, tickling her nose. Her reflection smiled at her from gloss-polished mahogany. Sleek and perfect. Only when she played did she open herself to the fantasy of having Donato caress her with tenderness, stroke her and bring her to a gradual increase of ecstasy, the ultimate of crescendos. As her voice grew husky with sorrow, elation and joy, she gave into her love for song, the perfect string of melody. Out of nowhere the hook called to her and she belted it out, plotting the chords to memory.

  When she was breathless and her throat constricted, she looked to the clock. Time had flown right by. She had but a moment or two to pen her new notes on the contemporary clef sheet. Grr. Stupid. Why do I always do this? She still had to dash over to Deja’s to get her new costume.

  Forty minutes later, Nadja emerged from the shower refreshed and dressed in short shorts and a print tank. She slid into wedge sandals that wrapped around her ankles and buckled. Making music always took away the time frame she needed to layer cosmetics on. She gave herself a mental kick. Since she’d begun singing, no one ever saw her without makeup in public. The thought of becoming invisible scared her.

  Without the layers of goo covering her face, she felt naked and vulnerable. At least with the excessive eye shadow, fake eyelashes, and heavy kohl, boring Nadja became Nadja the seductress, confident and wanted. But today, circumstance forced her to settle for a quick application of eyebrow liner and clear gloss.

  Settled in her car, she finally took off at top speed to get to Deja’s, barely breaking at stop signs until she hit the highway. The short drive taxed the rest of her patience. Road construction and detours backed up the roads, making her take a longer route to her destination. She thrummed her fingers to the music playing and blasted the a/c. When she turned into the parking lot, she slid into the first available slot, slammed her car into park, yanked up the emergency brake and exited her vehicle. She clicked on her alarm before tossing her keys into her shoulder bag.

  The late afternoon sun beamed down on her with its stifling warmth. Pressing forward she entered Craze. Immediately, cool air soothed her overheated skin. “Hey Barbie, Deja around?”

  Nadja breathed in the subtle smell of incense and smiled at the rocker with her newly bright red streaked hair. “Heya, Nadja!” Barbie leaned over the counter, pressing price tags into merchandise with her tagging gun. “Deja’s in the back.”

  “The new scent is nice,” Nadja commented as she walked over to the girl and went through
the pile of skimpy costumes.

  “Tahitian Nights—the image of a sheik meeting an American girl popped into my brain, and I played with the oils until I found a nice scent.”

  “That’s funny. I’m surprised Deja let you experiment in here again after the incident with the sexual massage oils.” The adult section always called to her, but she couldn’t imagine wearing anything like that for anyone.

  “I did it with those perfume cards and did a poll. I have another called Satin Sex, but Taleena wants it for a perfume. Oh, and I saw your new formal wear, it’s gorgeous. Better not keep Deja waiting. She’s a bit jumpy this week, sooo not like her at all. She’s been touchy since she came back from her buying trip.”

  Nadja laughed. “Taleena’s a trip. Thanks for the heads up on D.”

  Light peeked through the double doors left ajar in the back of the shop. She squeezed through the clothes racks and walked down the main aisle. “Deja.” Raising her hand, she knocked on the door.

  “Come on in.” Deja looked up and beckoned with her hand.

  “I got a message that you have some new choices of apparel for me.”

  “I do. You look different today.” Deja put her pen behind her ear and went to retrieve three garment bags.

  “I didn’t have time to plaster the goo on.”

  “Fresh and clean. You have too pretty a face to weigh it down with cosmetics.” She unzipped bag one and pulled out a short white dress that flared at the knees. “What do you think?”

  “It’s nice, but I’m not really a show-my-knees type.” The dress looked lovely, but on her, she feared it would show too much.

  “Hmm.” Deja slid it back into the bag and moved on to bag number two. “I brought two of these.” She removed a burgundy dress with zippers for shoulder straps. “I have it in royal blue too.”

  “I like the red wine color more than the blue. The dress is gorgeous. I’ll take it.”

  “Great. I’ve been thinking you could model the formal wear for me. I’m working on acquiring two more stores. This place houses my only mixture of costumes, show ware and accessories. If I purchase the other two, I’ll want to branch out to formal and bridal ware. I’ll need catalog models and print ad models. I prefer the natural, clean look, and I want you. I’ll keep you posted on progress.”

  Nadja zipped up the bag. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just think about it. You have a striking face and you’re modest. Lord knows why you haven’t moved to some bigger town to get noticed for your voice.” Deja put the garments back on the hanging rack.

  “I like being a Belton, Missouri girl. Large cities freak me out—” Loud pinging drowned out the rest of her reply, making her ears ring. “What’s that annoying noise?”

  “Sorry, it’s nothing. Just someone who doesn’t get I’m not interested.” Deja huffed and clicked on her computer.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, met a guy while on my last trip. Don’t get me wrong, Derek’s handsome, but I’ve never dated outside my race before.”

  Nadja draped her bag over her arm and sat down. “Dish.”

  “He tried to steal my cab. One thing led to another. The next night we had a drink in the lounge and then two, and so on and ended up…well, you know how the story goes.” The pinging didn’t stop.

  “So?”

  “The one night stand turned into a week of mind-blowing sex after the shows.”

  “And?”

  “What we did terrifies me. Though not as much as how he made me feel. I haven’t been the same since I met him. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Let’s face it, I’m not the have-a-fling type.” Deja sighed and looked over at the computer. “I’m a controlled woman who has her eyes on the prize. I don’t have time for playing. I have a future to plan and goals to finish, and the last thing I need is to have my mind cluttered with thoughts of a man.”

  “So what’s really bothering you…his race or the fact that he affects you?” Nadja asked as she plucked a cinnamon disc candy out of a dish.

  “Both, maybe. I don’t know. I didn’t plan on having any one particular male enter my life.”

  “I say go for it. Life is short. It’s apparent there’s great chemistry. Who cares how it’s packaged?”

  Deja punched her keys, answering the email. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Sure you can. You have a growing business and guts. He’s just a man.” Nadja winked.

  Deja crossed her arms and sat back. “So how’s Donato?” She glanced at the computer screen again.

  “He’s fine, I guess, why?”

  “Taleena mentioned you had him in your sights.”

  “I should put superglue on her lips. I swear.”

  “Tell me.”

  “He’s nice. After work, he makes sure no one’s around and starts my car for me. I’m not sure, but I think he’s behind the cop tail that follows me home and disappears as I enter my place.”

  “You know, we understand why you hide under all that makeup, but you might find Donato’s not like Marc.”

  Nadja shrugged.

  “Tit for tat. You gave me advice—try seeing what’s there. Everyone knows he digs you. Hell, you know Taleena won’t let anything happen to you. If she’s not happy, Jason’s not happy. Jason would threaten him to ensure peace in his own relationship.”

  “Donato hasn’t made a first move,” Nadja said, crinkling the plastic candy wrapper between her fingers.

  Deja slapped her hands on her desk. “I got it! Tell him you need a bodyguard. I have two photographers but only know one of them well. Even if I did, it’s not my practice to send any woman alone to be photographed.”

  “That might work. Maybe I’ll see a different side of Donato when he’s outside of the club. He, well…he glares a lot.”

  Thinking about her sexy Donato brought a flush to her face and wetness to her panties. On stage, she pretended he, and he alone, watched her. The crowd fell away, and she performed for him. Too bad he couldn’t really enjoy her voice or even hear her, thanks to the ear buds he wore. Besides, upholding order in the club kept him busy. She looked up to see Deja frowning at her computer screen. “What?”

  “Derek’s in town and wants to have dinner.”

  “Ahh. Must be why he keeps trying to contact you.” Nadja turned her thoughts from Donato to her friend. “So, is it creepy he’s, like, here in town?”

  “No. He owns a brewery here and some other corporate real estate. I’m just not ready to see him again so soon.”

  Nadja couldn’t help but laugh. “How long has it been?”

  “Two days.”

  “Go to dinner. You can always call me and beg off with womanly symptoms if you need to.”

  Noticing the time on the clock, Nadja leaned over and gave Deja a quick hug. “I have to get to work.”

  Seeing Deja flustered made her grin. She wanted her friend happy and not so career consumed that life passed her by, leaving her with regrets. A man to make her crazy might just be a good change of pace. With that, she got up and made her way out of the store.

  Instead of climbing back inside a stuffy car and driving to work, she crossed the major intersection and walked the short block with the garment bag draped over her arm. Club Mist had keyless entry for employees. She pinned in her code and pushed the door open. Again she was thrust into a cool interior. “Evenin’, Gaestavo.” She kissed his leathery cheek and leaned a hip against the bar.

  “Bella. Your usual?”

  “Yes.” Gaestavo spoiled her. She cherished the few moments she could steal before patrons and Donato arrived. He handed her an ice-cold beer, and she pressed the bottle against her forehead. “Ahhh.”

  “Hot outside?” The older barkeep asked.

  “Sweltering. Hotter than—never mind.” Saying it was hotter than sweaty balls definitely wasn’t what Taleena told her to work on. She tilted the bottle to her mouth. Heaven sent, the amber liquid quenched her thirst. Now all she needed was a sports game.
As if on cue, the sound of a game being transmitted via radio filled her ears. She turned in time to catch Gaestavo’s understanding wink before he headed off to stock the bar.

  The scenario brought her back to the time he’d found her hiding with a beer and trying to listen to a game without being caught. In her circle, ladies just didn’t do that. They prepared the New York or Chicago-style hot dogs, chips and dips, and stocked liquor and beer. Not one of them nestled down with the fellas to watch the game. Instead her group of friends watched the women’s television network or played bunko—a card game based entirely on luck that came with fuzzy dice, a timer and scorecard. To give them credit, she did like the show that concentrated on women killing their husbands. She had to hand it to a group of women so intelligent, they skirted past conviction and had a series given to them.

  After swallowing the last of her drink, she stepped behind the bar and tossed it into the trash bin. Out of curiosity, she slid open the cooler and withdrew a chilled mug and popped another beer. She tipped a tentative mouthful for a taste test. “Ugh. It’s not the same.” In utter disappointment, she finished pouring the beer into the cool glass. Digging in her purse, she took out a five dollar bill and set it on the bar. Although she didn’t have to pay for her drinks, she did anyhow.

  The loud sports announcer interrupted her thoughts, and Nadja turned off the radio.

  “Evenin’, doll.”

  She turned to see Donato put down his duffle bag. “Evenin’, Donato.” She sipped her beer and set it down on the coaster in front of her.

  “I thought drinking alcohol hurt the vocal cords.”