Candles providing the only speck of light in her otherwise shadowed apartment, Sarah made her way carefully to the kitchen . Alcohol had a way of making even the most basic things seem suddenly unfamiliar. Without fail, that which was otherwise most mundane to her grew more foreign with each step. What she thought was the lip of the dishwasher turned out to be the silverware drawer and the edge of the sink basin was a bit more edgy than she had anticipated. In fact, she couldn’t help appreciating when she heard the glass shatter that she wouldn’t have that extra dish in the morning.
It occurred to her in passing that there wasn’t enough light to get her up the stairs to the loft where her bed waited, cold and empty as usual. Just as well, she decided, the couch was closer anyway, not to mention visible in the amber glaze from numerous flames. The end table sat quietly behind her head, reminding Sarah just how quiet the whole world seemed as twenty-five and some odd fraction ounces of imported Cabernet Sauvignon swished in her otherwise empty stomach. Despite the collection of remote controls on the corner of the table, she knew the stereo remote above all others, thankful for the neon green glow of its ugly buttons. Holding it only an inch or two from her eyes, she jabbed at a few buttons. Power...play...random.
I have a smile
Stretched from ear to ear
See you walking down the road
Or meet at the lights
I stare for awhile
The world around us disappears
It’s just you and me
On my island of hope
“Jesus,” Sarah muttered as the tears fell down her face, as they had always when this song played. Her eyes strained in the faint light to find the mantle of the fireplace where symmetrically between two ivory pillar candles balanced on their crystal bases she found the one picture of Timothy she hadn’t managed to pack away, even all this time later.
A breath between us could be miles
Let me surround you
A sea to your shore
Let me be the calm you seek
Every time I’m close to you
There’s too much I can’t say
And you just walk away
He’d been wearing a neatly tailored white linen suit with the slightest pinstripe set into it. Slung into what remained of a worn out wingback chair tattooed by gold appliqué. The seams were worn and bits of stuffing poured from the openings, but Tim refused to part with that chair and on this occasion his worn and tired expression seemed only to compliment the antique. Beneath his black polished shoes curled a runner which hid only a small portion of the wood flooring. That too could have used a good strip and shine. To his left, a unembellished writing desk, supported a lamp whose split shade managed to ignite only half of his face, casting a shadow on the rest. It was a dark, serious photograph, a side of him she’d seen only rarely and to be frank, the side of him which she found most alluring.
And I forgot
To tell you I love you
And night’s too long
And cold here without you
I graven my condition
For I cannot find the words to say I need you so
A million years ago that very serious subject pulled out that suit his love had so cherished and took her away to a most remote restaurant. A nook if anything. Less than a dozen tables all reserved months in advance by the trendiest types. The kind of place nothing extraordinary happened. A quiet place where the staff knew the regulars who all knew one another. Where grandmother’s turned eighty in a hush and widows came to remember last meals and favorite dishes with their departed spouse, but where no one fussed and no one spoke the thoughts they held silently within themselves.
Music played constantly there, foreign mostly, if Sarah was lucky should could pick out a word or two as she paused on the sidewalk to watch the antiquity within. He’d bought her something simple to wear, a floral dress with short sleeves. Her hair, still rather lengthy then, had been neatly curled, cascading to the middle of her back. A tie met the ends of her raven trusses, cinching the dress neatly around her waist and giving shape to something that would have hung pencil straight on her otherwise.
She’d ordered a stuffed roughy, served on a bed of rice pilaf with accompanying fresh vegetables. Tim chose the flounder, baked potato, salad, oil and vinegar dressing, sunflower seeds rather than croutons. A bottle of 1928 Chardonnay. She should have guessed when the speakers filled with words she could understand, or even when he wiped the corners of his mouth midway through his salad, standing and pushing his chair back under the table as if he was going somewhere. The way he held his hand out to her and seemed to tuck her tight in the fold of his right arm. The spot they danced in was comfortably several square feet, but with all eyes in the restaurant on them it may as well have been the head of a pin.
But none sent a signal to her, none until he leaned in to her, pressed his cold, quivering lips to her ear and said, “I wanted very much to tell you in my own words, but when one finds someone else who’s already captured them more eloquently than my wagging tongue and yapping jaws could ever do, I would be a fool not to beg assistance.”
What he plucked from his interior breast pocket was a two carat solitaire, snuggled between two trios of quarter carat accent diamonds. When he bent to one knee, she felt herself go light in the head. He looked so small, so vulnerable from her perspective. “Sarah Williams, I need you to complete all the days of my life. If you refuse me, I shall know no happiness forever after, show me you are not so cruel as to let a man whose condition is otherwise a healthy one deplete alone. Do me the honor of saving me. Be my wife.”
Obscuring a clear yes, the tears clogged her throat in their rush to her eyes. The platinum band slid gracefully over the knuckles of the third finger on her left hand, as if it had been cast around her very digit. Those who’d witnessed the proposal cheered. A Greek couple at the table next to them ordered a bottle of Ouzo and immediately insisted on shot glasses to serve the house.
From that point on, the restaurant became a legendary haunt for eager young men wishing to plot the irrefutable proposal of life long commitment, but they would always know who had been the first. The regulars who had shared that moment would tell the story, even in the wake of a new engagement, dimming the new joy with a reflection on the old. It would be assumed, when a relationship begins with as strong a passion as had theirs, such a fire could burn almost endlessly. Theirs was a fairytale indeed, but as they will, even the greatest fairytales ended and when the curtains closed, happily ever after seemed eager to go awry.
This happy ending lasted four short years. The shame of it was, Sarah loved him, for certain she loved him. Perhaps not in love with him. Perhaps more that she wanted so terribly to flee her childhood that she went running full speed into the arms of the first man she could tolerate. Not to impress Timothy as anything less than amiable, for he was that and much, much more. There were many attributes he possessed in quantities that would be the envy of other men, or make Sarah the envy of other women.
Neither short on height nor short of looks, Timothy gave off a debonair sense, all charm and good nature. Mild in temper, it was rare that his riled nerves would result in anything more than heavy whisper and a few sharp words. As it were, they so seldom disagreed Sarah had witnessed his outbursts, if they could be called such, only in the courtroom and, even then, only when his passion got the better of his good judgment. In one instant, she saw the blood rush to his face and in the next, a cleansing breath taken in through the nose filling not just his chest, but his abdominal cavity as well. All in the span of a sigh, he’d managed his emotions, returning to an even keel.
His sense of humor was dry, deadpan, much to Sarah’s taste, he displayed a witty sense of sarcasm that managed to crack her smile even when stress had sewn her lips into a tight line. The more insane hours she had fallen into keeping of late seemed worthless during their marriage. Fleeing the firm at her first opportunity to meet him for their walks home. He’d offer his arm, sometimes silent, sometimes comical, sometimes sly with some cheesy pick up as if they’d never met.
Romance was not a theme with which Timothy struggled. Once a week without notice, he would cancel his regularly attended lunch date with his wife, claiming work was keeping him from being free. Inevitably that evening they would arrive home and he would deny any knowledge of the roses which littered their apartment. The repeated behavior continued to surprise the blushing bride for months. Timothy’s delivery always made it difficult to determine the validity of his deception. He found new ways to keep her ever wondering how he would display his affections, but always, once a week, she received a bouquet of colorful mixed roses to remind her of the whimsical nature of their young marriage.
In return he asked her for nothing more than their child. For three years, they had not so much been trying to get pregnant as they had been not trying to not get pregnant. Timothy would have made a wonderful father and despite what Sarah assumed about her own maternal capabilities, she felt her body ache to be filled by a life growing inside her. Every month Tim’s hopes would escalate only to be crushed by the shaking head of his mournful wife. Secretly each blamed their own inadequacies for the constant negative result. Not wanting to pressure Sarah, Tim went to have fertility tests conducted. All of which he passed excellently. Not wanting to make her husband uneasy, Sarah had similar tests done. She too had no physical reason she should be unable to conceive.
By their last year together, sex had grown mechanical, scheduled. Temperature checks, monotonous positions, lying prone with her legs skyward for more than a half an hour after any intimacy, if you could call something so sterile intimacy. They attended counseling for the growing animosities between them which all culminated when Tim accused Sarah of secretly taking her birth control pills. He’d found a half empty packet in her bedside table. When she pointed out the date it should have been obvious to him it was the package she’d been in the middle of when they’d decided to not be so careful anymore. Unfortunately Tim’s heart was already so distraught that even logic couldn’t convince him. He’d come up with some complex fabrication about how it was a decoy to keep him from searching for her regular prescription. When she’d out turned all her drawers, purses, briefcase to prove him crazy, he accused her of getting the Deprovera injection.
She cried for the full weekend after their fight. Longing for the easy going romantic who’d won her heart in college, Sarah became increasingly despondent. Timothy’s attempts to reach her became less sensitive. Sex between the two of them felt nearly forced. Even the counselor agreed his continued attempts to help them succeed in moving beyond their inexplicable infertility were a waist of finances.
Three months later, as civilly as they’d begun, Sarah and Timothy wrote their own divorce settlement and parted ways. She kept the apartment and he found some place new. He’d pay half the rent, plus two thousand a month alimony until such time as she received a significant increase in wages. Sarah felt he was being overly charitable, blaming himself for what happened and trying to pay away his guilt. Regardless of her objections, he insisted.
It’s funny, but falling in love gave you such a queer feeling in the pit of your stomach. Divorce gives you the same queer feeling, but for a completely different reason. When he left, he kissed her. As passionately as he had when she accepted his proposal. Leaving someone you had lost love for was difficult, but leaving someone you couldn’t help but still love, was damn near impossible. Who broke their embrace first was impossible to say, but their hands slid from each others shoulders as slowly as the tears rolled off their cheeks, until a forced set of smiles and a dozen grazing fingertips ended the whirlwind romance.
When the depression of being alone wore off, Sarah thought about volunteering with children, but from her first interaction with other people’s children she knew it was just rubbing salt in an open wound. In a self serving compromise, she agreed to give pro bono legal assistance to the bureau of Children’s Services. The firm was so impressed with her, they immediately set her on the partner track. After a fair deal of discussion, Tim agreed to stop his alimony payments on the condition that if she needed anything she would not be too proud to ask.
Charitable as ever, Tim’s demands were always in Sarah’s favor. In truth, she’d saved much of the money he’d sent her and was living well beyond comfortably with the increase from the firm. It wasn’t until Toby left that she spent any of it. When he moved into his own apartment she began spending. Thousand dollar suits, hundreds on shoes, a Ferrari she rarely drove, ordered in foods and it was all replenished as quickly as she’d spent it.
She still represented her pro bono charities and made regular donations to the Fourth Presbyterian Church, often dropping fifty dollars or more in the collection box after 8:00 mass on Sundays. For years, she’d sat in the very same pews and prayed that God would bless her with a child or heal the rift in her marriage. Now when she attended mass, she did not ask for such astronomical favors, rather she hoped she’d find the strength to make it through one week at a time and even that seemed to be an astronomical undertaking at times. Like right now, for example.
Wiping at the photo her tears smeared the dust gathered on the glass as Sarah forced herself to replace the picture to the mantel. “Not doing this,” she whimpered. “I am not going to do this,” her second attempt more of a declaration. A bit more forceful, more believable as she ground at her wet eyes. “I do love him, I always have, but like I love my brother, or my father. I’m sorry, Tim,” Sarah told the photograph, “but there’s always been some vital fire missing between us and maybe everyone knew that but us, even our unborn child. I look at it as a good thing,” the lawyer in her argued. “We spared a child the ugly outcome of watching his or her parents divorce.”
Sobered by being dragged down memory lane, Sarah extinguished the flames scattered about her lower level and climbed the stairs to her bed. Even in the dark, the outline of Timothy in his tailored white suit seemed to stick out like a star against the night sky, tormenting her. White knuckled fingers pushed her away from the ledge where she was surveying. Since the day her husband had left, the apartment never seemed so big, so lonely.
Falling back onto her feathertop mattress, she prayed for a dreamless sleep.
***** ***** *****
How she ended up on the floor with her head pressed against the side of the box spring, would remain a mystery. Startled by the merciless ringing of her phone, Sarah struggled to stand on her numb legs and succeeded only in making them cry out in piercing anguish as they were ravaged by the pins and needles which accompanied a prolonged lack of circulation. Fumbling for the phone, she managed a gruff, “Hello,” from between the sandy lips of her dry mouth.
“Sarah?”
“Um..hum,” she confirmed flexing her face and swishing her tongue to try and create some moisture that would make her more coherent.
“It’s Laney, Sarah. I’m worried about you. I haven’t seen or heard from you since you got back from Toby’s. I’ve left you half a dozen messages.”
Making the first excuse she could think of, Sarah told her, “I’ve been busy.” It wasn’t a complete lie that is to say if you considered drinking and hiding in your apartment busy work. “I know it’s no reason for not at least letting you know I was okay, but I guess I’ve been a little selfish of late.”
“Sarah, it’s a tough time for you, I know that. Now that Toby’s getting married. I’m sure it’s bringing up a lot of old memories for you.”
“Good memories,” she reminded tearfully.
Even Laney sniffled at the pain in her voice. “Even good memories can hurt.” There was a short silence while she listened to her friend poorly cloaked whimpering. “Sarah, you and Toby tormented each other as all siblings do. He’s forgiven you. You’ve stayed faithful to a husband who left you seven years ago. He’s moved on. He’s forgiven you. Don’t you think it’s time you forgive yourself.
Without comment, Sarah shook her head.
“What do you say we go out for lunch? We’ll do a little retail therapy and you’ll come out with us tonight?”
“No, Laney, the last thing I want to do is go out tonight.”
“Would you rather hide in that apartment forever, never meet anyone? You’ve got to set yourself free of the ghosts, honey. You’ll see, it can be very liberating. A bunch of girls. One night out. Feeling very powerful. Before long, you’ll be that Sarah I admired when I met her. The one who forged her own way and made everyone else conform to her.”
Silence.
“I’m not asking Sarah, I’m telling. I will be at your apartment in 45 minutes.” Sarah squinted at her clock. That would be 11:00. “And you will come with me.” The dial tone hummed in her ear arrogantly.
Conceding to Laney’s demands, she rose to shower. The tile of the bathroom floor chased off the remnants of sleep still crusted in her eyes. In the mirror, a stranger looked back at her. It had only been a week since her visit with Toby and the solitary confinement had gotten the better of her. Dark circles under eyes which would require weeks of treatment with cold cream. Blood shot eyes that would need more than the eye drops she offered them now. Maybe there was something to what her friend was saying.
In and out of the shower more quickly than she would have liked, Sarah readied quickly, simply. A pair of blue jeans, complimented by a green, pull over, cashmere sweater. Refusing to be seen in sneakers and so she strapped on a classic pump. A little gel left her hair looking rumpled and messy, but in a very sexy sort of way. Maybe she could drag herself into the mood to go out after all.
Laney arrived five minutes earlier than she had said, ever true to her nature and Sarah surprised her by being ready. When she answered the door, her hair done, her make up perfect, dressed with a Louis Vuitton bag in hand, the tiny brunette stumbled. “Ready?” Sarah asked almost buoyantly.
“Yeah,” Laney replied, suddenly renewed with eagerness. “Yeah I am.”
***** ***** *****
They lunched at a trendy little bar called N9ne. A house special called caviar to the N9nes tempted them both. A trio of American caviars with crisp potato pancakes, chives and creme fraiche, it felt decadent and elegant at the same time. Chablis complimented the meal nicely and enhanced the flavor of the caviar, undoubtedly.
As they traversed the sidewalks to a location Laney refused to reveal, Sarah seemed to be recovering some from the fresh air alone, that was until a small hand clutched her wrist jolting her to the right. “There, there,” Laney repeated excitedly. “Come in with me.”
Taboo Taboo, the sign read. A huge white streak in the front display window captivated her. Upon closer inspection, the streak which so readily kidnaped her attentions was a luxurious white feather boa. The base of each stalk kissed by the slightest off white smoke, almost a cream color.
“I knew you’d like it,” Laney squealed dragging Sarah inside before she had a chance to complete her full inspection of the accessory. The most extraordinary articles lie inside, making the name of the boutique seem entirely appropriate, concoctions of lace and leather, satin and silk, adorned in feathers and beads, applique and ribbons of all sorts. “You’ll need something for tonight,” the brunette insisted.
Sarah was still taking everything in while Laney began holding this and that to her, hanger heads poking her hips and neck, a variety of smells coasting under her nose. A moment later, a blonde saleswoman with a tiny ring in her eyebrow came by to ask them if they’d like a changing room. Laney snatched at the opportunity and they were shuffled in the direction of the panel of dressing room doors. Sarah noticed the tiger eye stone which rode on the ring in the saleswoman’s eyebrow as she asked sheepishly, “the boa in the window, may I...” her voice trailed off.
“You wanna try it on?” She sort of waggled her brow at Sarah. “I love when you business kinds stop in, always the ones pulling out all the stops. I’ve got a blue one on the floor. I’ll be right back.”
“No,” Sarah stopped her. “I’d like to try the white if it’s not too much trouble.”
Seeming a bit bothered, she shook her head side to side anyway and took with her a small step stool wedged beside the dressing room stall. Moments later, an end of the string of snowy white feathers flopped over the door. “It’s ninety if you want it.”
“Thanks,” Laney hollered back as she wrestled the cashmere sweater over Sarah’s head.
“Do you mind?”
“Sorry, I guess I’m a little excited to have you coming out tonight and you seem into this for once.”
“Maybe a little.” Sarah debated in her own mind just how into this she was while Laney gathered stockings at her feet and encouraged her friend to step in. They were a fine black mesh with a heavy fishnet pattern emphasized overtop. She was becoming a little more hesitant as the silk slip slid over her head. It came mid-thigh, not a length Sarah was accustomed to wearing. Figuring she might as well get used to it, because these clothes told her they wouldn’t be going to the same kinds of clubs she normally chose.
Setting low on her chest, the slip barely covered her nipples, probably to allow for a lower cut over garment. Just below her bosom was a two inch strip of satin which caught Sarah’s eye. For a brief second she admired the way it hugged her, showing her slim figure, until Laney lassoed her with a mixture of lace and wires, shouting, “Deep breath.”
Complying begrudgingly, the day time attorney sucked in oxygen, puffing out her chest. Laney lifted her breasts with the underwire cups of the bodice, quickly cinching a hook in the back of what appeared to be a corset. “Suck it in,” came the second snapped request. Again, Sarah complied and a second hook joined at the small of her back. The tightness was quickly replaced by a knee and Sarah held to the wall just to keep her balance. A red ribbon was laced up the fittings at the back of the garment and pulled tight to hold that shape which Laney had molded with her simple instructions.
Bulging, Sarah’s breasts threatened to flee the garment, but she was afforded only brief seconds to concern herself with any immodesty before the air was forced from her lungs. She found her self holding a deep breath in order to preserve whatever precious centimeter of give the fabric would allow. With a broad smile, the ribbon was tied into a bow at the base of the her back and the victim in the dressing room was given ample time to feel the tight hug of the lace and upright supports around her rib cage. Turning she could see the satin ribbon on the back mirrored the strips woven into the lace in a vertical line below each breast.
“You don’t expect me to go out in this, this, costume, do you?”
“Course not,” Laney said picking her fingers through Sarah’s hair attempting to restore the flair it possessed before the undressing and re-dressing smoothed it down. “You’re going to need shoes.”
“Are you crazy? Half of me’s on display and the other half is only just barely covered.”
“Sarah, you look fabulous. So you’ll get a little attention, so what? You deserve it. Besides, whatever attention you don’t want, us girls will make sure you don’t get. We’re a tight knit bunch and everyone’s excited to have you coming.”
“What will I wear on the bottom?”
Laney chuckled at her naivety, forcing Sarah into a chuckle so as not to seem completely out of touch. Nonchalantly, she stepped toward the stall door, snaking the white feathers over her shoulder. It didn’t go with the outfit at all, but it felt natural around her, scintillating to her exposed flesh, like soft, cool lips against the warm skin at the back of her neck. Though she’d never owned anything with feathers attached to it, not even a duster, it felt familiar.
With little gentility, Laney pulled it from her shoulder, “Nah, it won’t go with the boots.”
“You already have boots picked out?” Sarah questioned.
“Nordstrom’s and they’re perfect for this outfit. Our next stop.”
Pulling at the neatly tied bow above her rump, Sarah began to get back into her street clothes. “Well let’s hurry up before I change my mind.”
***** ***** *****
Nordstrom’s was unusually packed for a Saturday and the older ladies shopping there were reacting with obvious suspicions and hushed commentary to the girls with the bags from Taboo Taboo clutched in their fingers. Steering Sarah into the Gucci section, Laney plucked a pair of red boots from the shelf. For an instant she let herself believe they weren’t the ones her friend had pre-selected, until she bothered to notice how well the red of the boots matched the satin ribbon which had confined her in the girdle earlier.
Surrounded in an elongated octagonal design, Sarah thought they would clash with the fishnets, but Laney seemed confident they would be the perfect match and so she agreed, now beginning to feel rather like a Barbie doll Laney was playing with. “What size may I get you miss?”
“Seven and a half,” Sarah answered.
“Eight,” Laney contradicted. Sarah looked puzzled. “Leave room for the socks.” Sarah had no idea what her friend was talking about, but she wasn’t about to start disagreeing now. She indicated the new size to the salesman and handed over her MasterCard.
A taxi took them back to Laney’s apartment. Upon hearing they weren’t meeting the others until 8:30, Sarah requested a nap. Request granted, she slept soundly on Laney’s couch, while the enthused brunette showered and threw together some wild greens and a grilled chicken breast for dinner. Two and a half hours later, Sarah awoke to the sound of Laney cursing over a small nick she’d put in her left index finger while slicing the chicken.
“Soups on,” she said through a fake smile, “only there’s no soup.”
Stretching off her stiffness, Sarah moaned “Why’d you let me sleep so long?”
“If I expect you to keep up with us youngsters, I know you need your nap.”
The response which first rushed to Sarah’s head was a cruel and heartless one. Taking a moment to shake off her sleep, she rather responded comically. “You’re right, maybe I should pop a Geritol before we leave.”
“Come eat before everything gets cold...warm...cold. Oh hell, before the warm bits get cold and the cold bits get warm, come eat.”
Sarah was impressed with the salads Laney threw together, the homemade vinaigrette dressing, the soft, warm bread sticks. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Like the fact that you regularly attend fetish clubs?”
“Not regularly,” Laney winked. “Neo isn’t a fetish club. Sure it’s not mainstream, far from top 40, but...” she searched for the right words. “You’ll see, you’ll enjoy it.”
“Neo huh?” Thoughtfully she examined her fork, “Well I suppose there is no spoon then.”
“Funny,” Laney patronized.
Stabbing at her dinner once more, she asked, “So will everyone be dressed like us?”
“Not everyone, most. Some more extreme than us, others dress in themes. It’s a diverse crowd.”
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Oh stop, you have a bad feeling about wearing white shoes before labor day.”
“With good reason,” she said definitively.
“Sarah, there’s only one rule about fashion these days, and that’s that there are no rules. Formalwear isn’t just for formal occasions, suit coats go with jeans, punk rockers wear ties, women wear men’s clothes and in certain circumstances the reverse is true. White shoes are just white fucking shoes. No fashion police patrol is going to come around hacking off the feet of any person foolish enough to wear white pumps this weekend.”
“True as all of that may be,” Sarah explained, “I work in a professional setting and certain things, for me, for my colleagues, are unacceptable.”
Laney sighed, “Well you’re off duty tonight counselor and if by some strange chance you run into one of your work cronies they’ll have just as much explaining to do at the water cooler as you, so crawl out of that argyle box you’ve trapped yourself in and let loose for once.”
“Alright, alright, I’ve already agreed to go and I’ve let you dress me up and you were thoughtful enough to choose red footwear.”
“I know and there you were totting that horrid white boa.”
“Horrid? Do you really think horrid?”
“I’ve never been much for feathers.”
“I’m not saying for you, I’m just saying...horrid?”
Thinking it over a bit, Laney decided, “Yeah, horrid.” Sarah’s face sunk a little. “Look sweetie,” she soothed. “If you like it that much, go on and get it.” Picking up the plates she carried them to the sink. With all the clinking of silverware and Corelle she managed to hide her second comment. “Just not around me.” Returning to the table, she ran a damp cloth over the marble top. Catching Sarah’s eye, she asked her obviously daydreaming confidant, “Should we get ready?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Now that’s the spirit,” she said pulling Sarah from the chair and ignoring her actual answer for the one of complete compliance that her head heard.
Once more Sarah allowed her friend to torture her as she had in the dressing room at the boutique. The boots took a bit of getting used to, the heals tiny pins against the floor beneath her. A fair period of wobbling preceded any sort of comfort Sarah had perched on them.
Laney turned a leather bustier held to her chest, painted on black leather pants clinging to her lower half. “Did you remember the socks?”
“Huh?... No,” she admitted remembering what she’d said in Nordstrom’s.
“Zipper this,” Laney instructed spinning around. A quick tug on the pull and she was in her drawers hunting a pair of short, but thick socks for under those boots. “Here you go.” She held them up victoriously before chucking them toward her friend. “It’ll make all the difference in the world.”
Sarah took the offering in her left hand while using her right to clutch Laney’s wrist and turn it so she could see the smudge of India ink on upper arm. “When did you get that?” she asked when the smudge turned out to be the leg of a black widow shaped spider permanently drawn on a six inch patch of her bicep.
“My twenty fifth birthday present.”
“Were you drunk?” Laney shook her head. “So you actually wanted someone to do that to you.”
“Not just that, I paid them to do it.”
“I’m sure it’s not the only thing you’ve ever had to pay for,” Sarah commented playfully.
“Bitch!”
“Slut!”
“Jealous!” Laney ended the game. She was very good with sharp comebacks and Sarah often took her hat off to her old friend when it came to verbal combat.
When she again shoved her small foot into the gapping void that was the oversized shoe, it pained her to admit, but the socks really did improve the comfort tenfold and dramatically increased her control as well. A few paces across the wood floor and she was easily pivoting on those pin point heals and adding a semi-seductive swagger to her hips. Emerging from her bedroom, clad from breast bone to big toe in leather, Sarah gasped to see Laney in a way she never had before.
The usually meek, miniature brunette seemed towering, even more slender than usual, her bosom swelling twice it’s normal size. She had a confidence not usually attached to her. A confidence Sarah envied, for hers had been struck as of late. Even at work, Irmscher was giving her long monotone speeches about her naturalization rates. Admittedly she had cut back on her client relations and a few impromptu invitations to lunch or dinner were probably overdue. Then there was that Cogburn case, the one she’d used to assert herself with her insensitive lout of a boss in order to keep her date with her brother. Irmscher pulled her from the case when she returned to the office Monday morning, citing her inability to dedicate to a matter due to her personal problems.
Personal problems, what would he know about personal problems? For more than a decade now his secretaries had purchased every birthday, anniversary and Christmas card he’d sent. The very idea of him facing his own personal matters was ridiculous, let alone him helming any family crisis. It was nothing more than one of his countless attempts to belittle her. Make her feel like putting family first was somehow compromising, and maybe it was, but maybe it was the kind of compromise that human beings made. The kind of compromise someone like Irmscher didn’t understand. His whole life he’d been compromised for and she was asking him to do a little of the compromising now, chances of that seemed slim. She vowed that if she learned nothing else from tonight, she would regain some of her confidence. By Monday next, she would be back at her A game and carefully manipulating her boss into making compromises he didn’t even know he was making.
“Ready?” Laney asked once more, something in her face revealing this had not been the first time she’d posed the question.
Sliding her hand over the bottom lip of the corset she was wearing, Sarah breathed in deeply. The transition to the thin fabric which covered, albeit barely, her lower torso and thighs was nearly seamless. Truth of it was she was proud of how she looked. Summoning a few notes of a favorite song in her head, she took a few tiny dance steps in the boots. Head and feet seemed to be on friendly terms this evening, communicating in a perfectly equable manner. A huge sigh prefaced her conveying her willingness to follow through with her friend’s lunacy. Like a child in full tantrum, she attempted to clutch the doorway as they exited Laney’s apartment and then laughed off her temporary foolishness. “Kidding, I’m kidding,” she mused. Thinking the whole way to the lobby she’d never wanted more for an elevator to get stuck between floors as she wanted right now.
‘Damn,’ she said silently when the doors parted and the glass of the lobby showed her the busy sidewalks. Outside the fresh air seemed to settle her nerves if not her stomach. “Which way is it?” she feigned interest.
“Are you serious? I mean you do feel those stilts on your feet don’t you? Sarah if we walked, you’d being doing no dancing of any kind once we got there. We’ll take a cab.”
“And everyone else?”
“Only three, two of which are sisters and roommates. You’ll recognize them, they look very much alike, but one’s got a phenomenally bad dye job, that’s June. The other one’s April. Their parents were hippies.” Laney flagged her hand, just as a taxi drove past and he screeched to a halt before them. The women loaded in the back seat.
“Where to?”
“Neo,” Laney told him. “On Clark, just past Lincoln.”
“Yeah lady, I got it.” Starting the meter, under his breath he muttered, “I should have known,” as he eyed them in the rear view mirror.
Her companion may not have heard, but Sarah had. Observing his disheveled mop top and patchy facial hair growth, she couldn’t help thinking he had a lot of nerve to cast aspersions their way. To make matters more sketchy, there was that strange smell she hoped was coming from outside the cab.
“So that’s how they got their names. So don’t ask them because they’re awfully sensitive about the whole thing. June swears she’ll have a legal name change done the day after her parents are gone, but April’s more comfortable about it, at least when the sisters aren’t together.”
Attempting to seem as if she’d been diligently listening the entire time, Sarah agreed. “I can see where you’d feel awkward being named after the month you were born.”
“No,” the leggy brunette rumpled her button nose making her look like a nervous rabbit in an open field on the edge of a hawk’s nest. “The month they were conceived. I was trying to avoid just saying, but, well, there I’ve said it. Try not to bring it up tonight, okay?”
“Trust me,” Sarah promised, “it won’t be a problem.”
“So then there’s Dina, I work with her. She’s in the lab, lucky bitch. I miss the lab. Now she’s a little overweight, but she’s pretty secure about it. Best dancer among us. While the rest of us are cursing the invention of the corset and various shoe manufacturers who we’re sure are men scorned by women and seeking revenge by crafting the most uncomfortable footwear, Dina’s wearing a hole in the dance floor and laughing at the lot of us. You two will get on well, I’m sure. She’s divorced too.”
It was meant as small talk, filling up the time in the cab before the self righteous lump behind the wheel could start some obligatory string of conversation with them, but when the sentence hit Sarah’s ears it set off a reaction to rival the most advanced chemistry experiment. “So, what, you think we should know each other? Like being a divorcee is some elite club with less than 23 members in the Chicago area. We meet once a week to discuss advances in microwave meals for one and bash the helpless romanticism of Jane Austen novels, while we pin voodoo dolls of our ex-husbands and exchange cookie recipes right before the ceremonial end of meeting group hug.”
Taken aback, the twitching rabbit behind the driver, now felt as though she’d been run through and butterflied open by the hawk with whom she shared the backseat. “I just meant these are people you don’t know well and I thought you would like it if you had something in common you could discuss.”
“Because I’m going to discuss the details of my divorce with a stranger? Hi whatever the hell your name is. My name’s Sarah and seven years ago my husband left me in hopes of finding a more fertile woman to fuck.”
Hoping that sucking in air immediately after her announcement would suck with it the words that had caused a grave silence in the cab, Sarah held her breath.
Less muttered, the driver pulled up to the curb in front of the club, “Don’t know how you expect to get pregnant with all those tight clothes the two of you wear?”
“Shut the fuck up!” the girls demanded in unison as Laney fisted a few bills in his direction before scuttling out of the cab after her friend who was now headed in the opposite direction. “Sarah! Wait!” she called.
“Hey, you’re thirty five cents short.” Plucking the coins from the small bag she had looped to her wrist, Laney dropped them in his sweaty palm. “What? No tip?” the driver asked.
“Awe,” Laney said seeming almost regrettable. “You noticed.” Her tone was doused in sarcasm and lit by the blaze in her eyes as she slammed the back door shut and took off after her companion.
Before she could begin to coerce Sarah into staying, the Gucci boots approached her from the shadows. “I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to introduce me to your friends at all.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to introduce you to my friends?” she asked rhetorically, a wide smile revealing her perfectly aligned white teeth. “I’ll tell them you’re a raging alcoholic with aggression issues and then maybe they can stop asking me if I’m anorexic.”
“But you eat more than adult men three times your size.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Let’s go, before I change my mind,” Sarah said as she slid her arm through Laney’s and clicked her heels in even rhythm against the grey pavement.
Any question which remained about why Laney had chosen to tie her hair back in a low, tight ponytail was answered when from the waistband of her pants she pulled a leather police cap and positioned it atop her head. “Did you bring your handcuffs?” Sarah mocked.
“Don’t make me use my night stick on you.”
A bit louder than may have been necessary for two women traveling at matching pace and separated by only a few inches, Sarah couldn’t resist egging her on. “Police brutality. Police brutality.”
“Shut up,” she warned her. “You’ll get us thrown out.”
“How can we get thrown out when we’re not in yet?” Her increased sense of timing and cheeky humor let Sarah know something was changing in her already. She felt more fun, more alive than she had in years. The dark alley leading to the club was cool and calm, stone walls on either side, she was completely at ease, full of exhilaration.
By the entrance to the club the three women Laney described in the cab stood waving their hands frantically. A nod from Laney brought them to their attention. “Remember what I told you,” she said through a plastered smile as they approached. “Hi guys,” she sang. “This is Sarah.”
“We’ve heard so much about you,” April offered a hand. Sarah shook it and thanked her politely.
Dina leaned in. “Damn, you’re as malnourished as Laney is.”
“Not really,” she patted her tummy. “I just bought a corset that was four sizes too small.”
“This one’s gonna do fine, just fine,” Dina told Laney.
“You must be June,” Sarah surmised of the woman who had yet to speak. Her hair was incredibly short, brushed forward and bearing a wide strip of bright red over her crown. Immediately, even the dimmest person in the Midwest could have sensed her hesitation, her lack of enthusiasm which stemmed at least partially Sarah was sure from her failed experiment in hair color. It was not an emotion Sarah was terribly unfamiliar with having, or with giving off. The sole lamp hung above the entryway highlighted a painting on her left shoulder that seemed to creep over from her back. Seeing the opportunity, Sarah kicked in the door. “Laney tells me,” the brunette froze, flicking her head in Sarah’s direction when she heard the lead in, “you have a rather interesting tattoo. I was thinking of getting one. Would you mind showing me yours?”
“No,” June smiled. “Not at all.” When she spun around Sarah could easily see the design spanned her entire back and onto the other shoulder as well. Artistically it was pretty amazing, even if the bit about her wanting one was a lie. Her fishnet body stocking had been cut out in the back to expose the majority of it.
“Stunning,” she told the woman. “Really very attractive on you. But I don’t think I have the patience or the frame to pull something that fantastic off.”
“Stunning? Really? It took almost a month to finish,” she explained. “Well it wouldn’t have taken as long except I didn’t have all the money up front.” June admitted. “You could start with something smaller. Something like this.” She lifted her right leg at the knee to expose a smaller marking on her ankle.”
Sarah winced, thinking about needles piercing the thin skin over her ankle bones. “I don’t know,” she chuckled. “I kind of always thought I’d start with a dot, you know one of those earth from really high up kind of tattoos that I could add onto for years until it really turned into something special.”
“Yeah, I was scared my first time too,” June said, wrapping her arm around Sarah and queuing her up behind April and the others.
Behind them Dina shuffled up, introducing herself to Sarah. “I hear we have something in common,” she announced.
“Oh yeah,” Sarah agreed. “We both got rid of our husbands the hard way.” When Dina cocked her head and furrowed her brow, she continued. “It would have been less paperwork to just have them knocked off.”
For a moment nothing, the lab technician stood motionless, poker stiff expression from ear to ear, but it lasted only briefly before she broke into a hearty and contagious laugh. “I was going to say we were both from New York, but you make a valid point.” Her firm hand struck Sarah’s back knocking her off kilter a bit.
“Which leaves only you to be April,” she deduced. Glad she had not had to meet the sisters consecutively out of respect for their insecurities.
“So it does.” She smiled warmly, “but I hope it doesn’t disappoint you to learn that I have no tattoos, nor have I been married, nor have I ever visited New York, let alone lived there.”
“Not at all,” Sarah chuckled. “In fact it takes great pressure off me to impress you then.”
Laney was proud at how well Sarah settled in with her friends. Despite Sarah’s self doubt, Laney knew she was quite good with people and expected, when it came time, she would warmly welcome the strangers and quickly set them at ease. Which she had.
Inside, very near the entrance was an older woman, probably trying to hold on to her mid forties, but more like having waved them goodbye or hidden them under MicroDermabrasion and hair dye. She waltzed to and fro, greeting the people coming through the door as though she worked there, but Laney quickly confirmed she did not and was only apt to perform as such because it made out of towners ask to take her photograph as well as provide easy introduction to the men attending the club.
She wore black and white. Her shoulders were bare and forced back. Above the right side of her corset, a blue ink tattoo which Sarah didn’t bother to closely examine. She was already put off enough by the way she reached behind her back to hold her free arm, leaning into everyone and over annunciating her name. “Hi, I’m Heather. Welcome to Neo.”
Dina was mocking her as they made their way to a clear spot on the dance floor. It was loud. The girls were shouting just to be heard despite the tight cluster they kept to. Under the lights it was easier to see their outfits. June’s fishnet body stocking was covered by a black leather skirt and a cupless corset that laced in the front and in the back. A filled in harlequin in the fishnet covered her nipples and not much more. Around each of her delicate wrists was snapped a black leather band. Her throat was encircled by a red leather collar, trimmed in black. It all went rather nicely with her hair.
“Would you look at that?” Dina pointed to an open area not far from them. A man was stepping forward, two leashes in his hand. From either he unlatched an attractive woman. One, oriental in appearance, wore a thicker red collar, the other, a thinner black collar. The red collared woman was shorter by only a few inches. Like June, she had black hair, streaked red. Her bodice was leather, strapped and buckled over her shoulder, the cups not very supportive, made of soft black leather. The ribbing a little more sturdy, marked with red and zippering up the front.
The other showed more leg, her outfit one piece. A mini skirt, V-shaped panel of red laid into her bodice, accentuated with wristbands which stretched half way up her forearm and boots that came within inches of her knee. What made her most noticeable was the incredible flare at the corner of her eye, a trick of plucking and shadowing that made the brow appear to break and fan out into her temple. It was such an attractive detail, she craned her neck to get a better view.
Engaging in a hypnotic and seductive dance, the woman circled one another, calm, cat-like, moving closer with each round. When at last their bodies met, it was jaw dropping indeed. They moved to the heavy rhythm of the industrial melody. The arms of one enfolding the aura of the second while she arched her body, winding like a snake in varying degrees of altitude. As the second hovered her lips above the first, she took over the role of the charmer while the first began to snake. If there were eyes not turned on the two they must have been closed because theirs was a performance unable to be looked away from.
Sarah admitted to a hot flush staining her cheeks, but the others took it rather in stride she thought. Making sense of it was June’s whisper. “They do this all the time. Show offs!” There was a definite jealousy in what she said.
Clasping hands, the duo left the stage, their faces as stony as they had been when first the stage was taken. “VNV Nation,” Dina squealed.
“What?” Sarah asked.
“VNV Nation,” she repeated grabbing Sarah in one hand and June in the other, dragging them into the open where it was dance and blend in or don’t dance and face humiliation.
From the sidelines Laney and April looked on. April looked elegant in her purple and lace bodice and black pencil skirt, elbow length gloves reaching up her arms, heeled sandals showing off her pedicure, a silver choker hung around her neck making her bronzed smooth shoulders look even more sun kissed. Next to a police woman clad in leather, she appeared almost tame.
“Honestly Laney, I don’t know what your friend said to my sister, but that’s the first time in weeks I’ve seen her dance. Look at her, she’s completely into it, dancing as though no one else were here.”
“I told you Sarah was pretty amazing.”
Hands raised to her hips, April contradicted her, “Amazing, she’s a fucking miracle worker if you ask me.”
Following the rather simple instructions, Dina had been kind enough to provided, Sarah closed her eyes, bent her knees slightly, and worried less about how she should be moving her body so much as she let the music move her.
So many little things follow me
So many little things that bother me
I found my answer
Avoid all chaos
And follow me
I found my answer
I told you before
Don’t follow me
Coz that’s not your answer
Three minutes in, all eyes had turned to her. She had been positively possessed by the rhythm and the graceful wave of her arms, the sensual roll of her torso, the lascivious pumping of her legs made the outfit and matching boots completely unnecessary catalysts of her sexuality. Sarah was lost in the music, as she always found herself lost in music, only deeper, further than she’d ever allowed herself to wander before.
I’m not alone
I’m not afraid
I’m not unhappy
These are the words I say to myself everyday
I am not alone
I’m not afraid
I’m not unhappy
Such a stupid ritual to say to myself everyday
I’m not alone
I have the answer
I set myself free
I’m not unhappy
Even when a pair of distinctively male hands slid up her silk skirt and burrowed their fingertips beneath her corset, Sarah seemed oblivious. More so she leaned into his touch, undulating against him in as tantalizing a performance as the leashed ladies had given earlier. Her hands slid up, reaching behind, clasping his neck. He cupped her bosom and she gasped. Though the initial contact didn’t shock her into musical sobriety, Laney’s rushing to her side did.
“Ashton?” she asked in surprise. He was a new hire with her company. A real rogue around the office. All the credentials of an accomplished engineer, none of the stereotypes.
“You know him?” Sarah asked shocked.
Explaining the situation, Laney performed the introductions. “Ashton, this is my good friend Sarah. Sarah, this man with his arms still around you, is a coworker of mine, Ashton Price.”
Even at her notation of his prolonged contact the man did not move away, nor did Sarah ask him to. Rather she turned in his embrace, taking him in. Something about his eyes distracted her. She had to blink before they’d tear away enough to notice the moustache and goatee that framed his perfect mouth. Ashton arched his eyebrow, a smirk curling his lips as Sarah reached for his spiked ruddy blonde hair. “It’s so short,” she sighed.
“Excuse me,” he leaned his ear to her for clarification.
“I said it’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. You’re quite the dancer.”
“You’re not bad yourself,” she smiled. She was flirting, rather shamelessly, she admitted, but Ashton was not the kind of man Sarah was used to meeting and so she justified reacting to him in a manner in which she wasn’t used to. “You work with Laney?”
“Do you find that hard to believe?”
“What do you do?”
Toying with her, he offered, “I’m a janitor.” She looked at him in a state of confusion stuck between belief and suspicion. “Is it still so nice to have met me?”
“Do I seem so very shallow to you?”
“No,” he smiled, “you do not. I’m an engineer.”
“You’re an engineer?”
“Does that surprise you?”
Shaking her head she admitted, “Surprise me, no, but I bet it surprised the people at the firm.”
“Right you are. But there’s not much they can do when you’re father’s best friend from childhood is the president of the firm. Even less when your father happens to be the judge handling said president’s third divorce.” He rose his pointer finger to his lips coyly, whispering, “sssh,” as he did so.
“At my firm, we’d call that a conflict of interests.”
“And what firm is that?”
Raising her glance to him from the corner of her eye, Sarah shyly replied, “Sidley Austin.”
“Well, we’re getting off to a great start.”
“You know what they say,” Laney interrupted nervously. “What happens at Neo, stays at Neo.”
“Something like that,” Ashton responded. Then, quite unexpectedly, he bowed low, kissing the back of Sarah’s hand and while refusing to release her stare, addressed the group. “Have a lovely night ladies.”