Gigolo Girl Page 8

  Desiree shook her head. “No.”

  “Science and math?”

  “No.”

  “Sales and marketing?”

  “No.”

  “Small and medium?”

  “No.”

  “Smiles and… and…memories?”

  “It stands for sadism and masochism. As in bondage,” Desiree said.

  “Oh.”

  “You still want to go in?”

  “Yes. I think it would be good for me,” Mildred said.

  “Okay, but if at any time you want to leave just say so. I won’t think any less of you.”

  “Okie dokie,” Mildred said with more bravado and daring than she actually felt.

  When they opened the front door a buzzer went off and a giant man in tiny leather shorts appeared before them. He had a shaved head and every part of his face was pierced. “What can I help you ladies with?” he asked.

  “I need a studded collar for my pet,” Desiree said.

  He looked at Mildred. “Is she your pet?”

  “No. A pet of the canine variety. A toy poodle size, please.”

  “Huh. We don’t usually do poodles. You’ll need an extra small. Follow me.” He led the way past aisles of torture equipment that looked like it came right out of a medieval dungeon. It gave Mildred the heebie-jeebies.

  The salesman stopped before a selection of leather collars in every conceivable size and design. “Tame or wild and crazy?” he asked.

  “I want mean-looking, like it might take out an eye kind of thing,” Desiree said.

  “Got just the thing,” he said, holding up a very dangerous-looking pokey collar in a size extra small. “We call this model The Beast.”

  “Perfect,” Desiree said.

  “How about some nipple clamps to go with that?” he asked.

  “Naw, I’m good,” Desiree said.

  “Butt plug?”

  “No thanks.”

  He looked at Mildred. “A pony play bridle and harness perhaps?”

  Mildred squeaked and shook her head.

  Desiree paid with the American Express. Mildred didn’t say a word all the way back to the car. Once inside, she popped in the Cat Stevens CD, closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest. If she had a gallon of bleach she would scrub her mind clean. But since she didn’t have that, Moonshadow would have to do.

  The Fierceness of Poodles

  “C’est magnifique!” Claude exclaimed as he clapped his soft hands in delight.

  Miss Daisy was bad-ass and she knew it. She strutted her stuff back and forth across the marble-esque floor. Her red toenails clicked. Her shaved tail wagged. Her new collar gleamed. Her coat and faux hawk were as black as squid’s ink. In short, she had been transformed from a silly white foo-foo poodle to a ferocious black junkyard dog with an attitude problem.

  “The collar is the perfect finishing touch. Oh, I must have a photo. This is so innovative and superbly cutting edge.” Claude beamed proudly at Desiree and Mildred. He pulled out his phone and began snapping pictures.

  Miss Daisy posed like she was one of the Kardashians and Claude was the paparazzi. Miss Daisy bared her teeth and curled her lip for the camera. She even obliged with a few real sounding growls. Desiree rolled her eyes when Claude wasn’t looking. Mildred giggled.

  “Is Heavenly Bliss going to be mad about what we did to Miss Daisy?” Mildred whispered.

  “I don’t know. But she and Honey Belle want the job done and Miss Daisy is a crucial part of getting it done,” Desiree said.

  “I need some action shots,” Claude said. “Do you have a stuffed cat she can terrify?”

  “Not on me,” Desiree said.

  “Hmmm…,” Claude said. “How does she feel about mailmen?”

  “Hates them,” Desiree replied. “Actually, I don’t know if it’s the mailmen or the polyester uniforms, but she tries to attack every one she sees.”

  “As I recall, a Rottweiler left one behind the other day.” Claude went in the back room and returned with a stuffed mailman doll. He held it out in front of Miss Daisy. Miss Daisy’s eyes dilated. She snarled and jumped. Her jaws snapped at the toy, saliva spraying everywhere. Claude threw the mailman and Miss Daisy leaped, catching it in midair. She immediately began to shake her head, trying to break the mailman’s neck. Within seconds, the toy was spit-soaked and one of its arms was hanging by only a thread.

  Claude danced around the barbaric scene, snapping photos and encouraging Miss Daisy’s feral attack of the toy.

  “I guess we’ll have to pay for the replacement of the stuffed toy, too,” Desiree said.

  “Non non,” Claude said. “You don’t have to pay for a thing. I will even throw in the toy.”

  “Really?” Desiree said. “Why?”

  “Miss Daisy is my muse. She has inspired me to create a whole new beauty line for dogs. I will call it ‘The Bitch.’ All of Texas will embrace it. I cannot thank you enough,” Claude gushed.

  “Well, alrighty then,” Desiree said. “I’ll be sure to tell Heavenly Bliss how kind you were.”

  Mildred snapped the leash on Miss Daisy. Miss Daisy followed her to the car, with the mailman still gripped in her tiny jaws.

  Who Let The Dogs Out?

  Mildred and Desiree, encased in their new leather ensembles, sat in Desiree’s Jaguar on the street outside Kimberly Larson the Third’s house. Li’l D—Desiree had changed Miss Daisy’s name to Li’l D because it fit her new look—sat in the back seat surrounded by wadded-up hamburger wrappers and remnants of the stuffed mailman. They were waiting for night to fall until they could execute their plan.

  Mildred stared out the car window at Kimberly Larson the Third’s house. It was a mausoleum of limestone. “Are you sure this is where the hair-snatcher lives?”

  “According to Fessa, it is. Why?” Desiree said.

  Mildred shrugged. “I just didn’t picture the woman living in a castle. It looks cold inside.”

  “It’s not a castle. It’s a Georgian-style house. They have them in Scotland,” Desiree said.

  “How do you know so much about so many things?” Mildred asked. “Are you a genius?”

  Desiree laughed. “No, I’m not a genius, I just read a lot. I also watched Jeopardy every day growing up. There wasn’t much else to do in Seward, Alaska in the winter.”

  “Igloos have TV?” Mildred asked.

  Desiree laughed. “I didn’t live in an igloo. I lived in a small house with my parents. I dreamed of someday leaving Alaska. I couldn’t wait to get out of that small town. We’re a lot alike in many ways,” Desiree said.

  “Except you’re smart,” Mildred said. “I would love to be as smart as you.”

  “I’m not any smarter than you are,” Desiree said. “I just read a lot.”

  “You do?” Mildred said.

  “What, I don’t look like a reader? I know about Georgian houses because I read Alexander McCall Smith and he writes a series set in Edinburgh. I want to go there someday just because of his books.”

  “I never saw any books in your apartment.”

  “Oh, that. Well, I used to move a lot and books are heavy so I got a Kindle. And believe you me, it’s loaded. I should get you one. We’ve got some pretty well-read clients and it helps if you can chit-chat in their language.”

  “I can speak their language unless it’s something other than English. I can even eak-spay Pig Latin.”

  “I meant the language of books.”

  “I’m also pretty good at speaking the language of love with the exception of the taser episode,” Mildred amended.

  I bet you are, Desiree thought. “I’m just saying that sometimes talking about books breaks the ice. You know, talking about a good book makes some women hot.”

  Mildred looked wide-eyed. “I had no idea.”

  “I know, most people think this profession is just about sex, but there’s a lot more to it than that.”

  “I don’t read too awful much. I always fi
gured if the book’s any good, it’ll be made into a movie and I’ll go see it.”

  “What’s your favorite movie?” Desiree asked.

  “Flashdance. And then Dirty Dancing. I think the 80s made the best movies ever, don’t you? My Mama’s partial to the old black and whites so I grew up watching them, but I love the 80s the best.”

  Desiree said, “Well, Flashdance was never a book, I’m afraid.”

  “It should’ve been,” Mildred said. “I might have read that one.”

  They sat for a while in companionable silence. Mildred was the first to speak. “Today has been one of the most interesting days of my life. My friend Greta won’t believe me when I tell her all the stuff we’ve done today.”

  “So who is this Greta person anyway?” Desiree tried her best not to sound like she was jealous.

  “Oh, she’s my best friend back home. We talk on the phone all the time. She’s never been outside of Terrence so I tell her everything that happens to me, and what the city is like. We’ve known each other practically forever. She knows everything about me and everything I’ve done since I was little.”

  “So, she’s like your human diary,” Desiree said.

  “I guess she is. I never thought of it that way.”

  “So, she’s not like your girlfriend?” Maybe Mildred had found herself a girl that didn’t mind sharing her with other women. Long-distance love might withstand that trial.

  Mildred laughed at the thought of it. “Oh no, Greta’s straight. She’s going to marry Floyd.”

  Desiree was glad to hear that Greta was only Mildred’s friend. Besides, Greta was back home in Terrence and Mildred was sitting next to her. Proximity was nine-tenths of the law.

  “Okay, you ready to do this thing?” Desiree said.

  “How are we going to wake her up?” Mildred said, indicating Li’l D who had fallen asleep in the back seat.

  “Opening the car door should wake her,” Desiree said. “Be sure to put your sunglasses on.”

  “But it’s dark outside already,” Mildred protested.

  “It’s for the look, not the sun,” Desiree said. “Just do it.” She put her own sunglasses on and got out of the car. Mildred followed suit. Li’l D’s head popped up and she leapt out the door. She immediately squatted near a bush and peed.

  Desiree clipped on Li’l D’s leash and led her down the driveway and toward the front door. Li’l D squatted down and took a huge dump.

  “Look!” Mildred whispered. “Somebody’s peeking out the window and they don’t look happy.”

  Two seconds later, the front door flew open. “Hey, what are you doing out here? Your dog is not allowed to defecate on my lawn!” a woman called out.

  “She wasn’t defecating,” Mildred said, hands on hips. “She was taking a dump.”

  “Dog poop is the least of your worries, lady,” Desiree said, giving Lil D’s leash a tug as she tromped across the yard and toward the porch.

  Mildred stomped after her. Her heel caught in a clump of grass and she tripped. “Oopsy!” she yelped as she flew forward and broke her fall with her face. “Well, Ding dang!” She spit grass and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  Desiree turned back around. “What’re you doing on the ground?”

  “It’s these ding-dang dark glasses. I can’t see where I’m going!” Mildred exclaimed. She pulled herself up to all fours.

  Li’l D jumped in front of Mildred and snarled, showing her teeth.

  “Omigod!” Desiree yelled. “She thinks you’re another dog! She’s going to attack you!”

  Mildred stayed on all fours and began to bark and growl and snarl like her life depended on it. Which it did. She had seen what Li’l D did to the toy mailman. No way was she going to end up dismembered with her insides on the outside.

  Mildred barked and snapped her jaws at Li’l D.

  Li’l D’s eyes widened and she backed away from Mildred. Mildred advanced on Li’l D, growling for all she was worth and shaking her head from side to side. Mildred look like she’d gone mad—like she was rabid. Even Desiree dropped the leash and backed away.

  Suddenly, Li’l D yipped, turned, and ran off down the street with her tail tucked between her legs and the leash slapping the pavement behind her.

  Mildred stood and dusted off her knees. She looked at Kimberly Larson the Third who stood stock-still and speechless on her porch. “What’re you staring at?” she said.

  Kimberly turned and fled back inside her house, slamming the door shut behind her.

  Desiree threw her hands up in the air. “What the hell, Mildred?” she said. “You scared the dog, you scared Kimberly, what’s next? You going to poop on the lawn?”

  “I couldn’t help it!” Mildred said. “I had to think fast! Li’l D was about to rip my head off just like that mailman’s!”

  “If that’s thinking fast, I’d hate to see you think slow! Now what’re we going to do?” Desiree said. She paced in a tight circle around Mildred. “You scared off our only plan. That was how we were going to get even and make her pay for Fessa’s hair plugs!”

  “Stop yelling at me!” Mildred said. “It wasn’t my fault! If you hadn’t made me wear those ding-dang sunglasses!”

  “Oh, so it’s my fault you were acting like a dog?”

  “It’s your fault I was wearing sunglasses when there was no sun!” Mildred ripped off her sunglasses and threw them at Desiree’s feet. She turned around and stomped back across the lawn.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Desire called after her.

  “Back to the car until you apologize,” Mildred said.

  Desiree fumed and watched her go. “I’m never going to apologize!”

  *

  “I’m sorry,” Desiree said. “I shouldn’t have blown my top like that.” She was standing outside her car. Mildred was locked inside and the window was rolled down one inch.

  “I accept your apology,” Mildred said. “Just don’t do it again.”

  “Will you unlock the car now?” Desiree asked.

  Mildred punched a button and the car doors unlocked. Desiree opened the driver’s side door and slid in behind the wheel. She looked over at Mildred. “What now?”

  “Well, while I was sitting here in the Jaguar all by my lonesome…I formulated a plan,” Mildred said.

  Uh oh, Desiree thought.

  Mistaken Identity

  It took fifteen minutes and three raw weinies to get Li’l D back. Mildred had to sweet talk the dog before she would eat out of her hand. Once Li’l D was back on the leash, Desiree said, “Okay, ready?”

  “Ready Freddie,” Mildred said, leading the way up the driveway toward Kimberly Larson the Third’s house. Mildred punched the doorbell and hid at the side of the house. She didn’t want to be recognized as the mad dog lady. Desiree stood directly under the camera that was in the corner of the alcove.

  A voice crackled over the intercom, “What do you want?”

  “Help,” Desiree said, clasping her hands under her chin like she was begging. “My friend is bleeding. I need your help.” Desiree hadn’t ever taken an acting class, but she didn’t need to. Some people just had the gift and she was one of those people.

  “Bleeding?” the voice on the intercom asked.

  Desiree made her bottom lip tremble. “Yes, please hurry. We must stop the bleeding before she dies. Before she bleeds out and dies on your front lawn from negligence.”

  Mildred giggled behind her hand. “I wasn’t wearing a negligee,” she whispered.

  “Negligence,” Desiree whispered harshly out of the side of her mouth. “Not negligee.”

  “Oh,” Mildred said. “It’s hard to understand you with your bottom lip all pooched out like that.”

  The front door opened a crack. A chain lock kept the door from opening all the way. The same woman as before stuck her nose in the crack and eyed Desiree. “I see no blood,” she said.

  “Please help,” Desiree said. “You must help.”
>
  The door shut and re-opened, this time without the chain. The woman cocked her head and put one hand on her hip. Any other time this look might have been sexy but the scowl and forehead wrinkles spoiled the look. She was Latina, which seemed odd for someone named Kimberly Larson the Third—but nowadays who knew? America truly was a melting pot and Desiree was politically correct if she was anything.

  Li’l D sat at Desiree’s feet with her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth and stared at the woman. This seemed to make the woman nervous. “If I get you a Band-Aid will you go away?”

  “Yes,” Desiree lied. “If you can help my friend not bleed to death, I will leave. But not before.” Desiree was thoroughly enjoying her part. “We will leave and take our vicious dog with us.” Desiree tightened her grip on the leash hoping to make Li’l D appear vicious. It didn’t work. Li’l D had sat down and was licking her doggie vagina.

  “What’s in that bag?” Kimberly Larson the Third asked, pointing at the black leather messenger bag slung over Desiree’s shoulder.

  “For me to know and you to find out.” She winked but remembered she had her sunglasses on and the woman couldn’t see her eyes.

  “What does that mean?”

  Desiree was finished playing games. She pushed her way inside the house, dragging Li’l D behind her. She backed Kimberly Larson the Third up against the foyer wall. Mildred took that as her cue to rush inside the house and slam the door shut behind her.

  Kimberly Larson the Third hid her face behind her hands. “Is this a home invasion? Are you going to rob me? I warn you that I have nothing to steal.”

  Desiree said, “We’re not robbing you. We only want what you owe us.”

  “I have done nothing to you,” Kimberly Larson the Third said.

  “That’s a lie!” Mildred said. “You yanked out Fessa’s hair with a Dyson ball vacuum cleaner, model number DC65.”

  Desiree was impressed. Mildred had obviously done her homework on the vacuum cleaners.

  “It is true I have the vacuum, but I don’t know any Fessa,” Kimberly Larson the Third sobbed.

  “Likely story,” Desiree said.