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I need action.
Three
Helen
The apartment is dark as I burrow through my drawers, looking for the right costume. I’ve never really felt anxious like this before and I have to admit, I kind of like it.
My head has been spinning all day. Ever since Lisa dropped the deal on me, I can’t seem to think straight.
I want this. I really want it. I’ve been thinking for so long how a tasteful section on the arts of rope and other types of BDSM would enrich our magazine. We often get letters from women asking for more information about it, but our shareholders tend to stick to the mainstream.
I know I can satisfy our customers, sell copies and indulge my own interests. I think for the first time in my life I really feel driven, rather than just carried by the current.
I want to make it happen. All I have to do is find a girlfriend.
I sit down on the floor in the dark in front of my open drawers. I wish I was one of those intense, dramatic people that could just have a cry right now, but I’m not. I just look at the tumble of clothes somewhat helplessly.
If what I want is a partner, I probably shouldn’t go to the same place I always go. I’ve never found anyone there that wanted a relationship with me, and I’m too timid for one-night stands. I don’t know where to start looking for a real partner—or even a stand in one.
I can’t just launch myself out into the city. I realize I’ve got the same issues as a bird that’s been caged its whole life, but there’s very little I can do about that. The Nook made me feel safe to express myself. I can’t imagine going anywhere else to look for a partner.
Even though I would consider a fake one, its funny how I want to be sure she understands my hidden desires.
The shadows deepen and I reach into the drawer and pull out a corset and long skirt. The corset is beautiful, real silk. Dark violet and black lace. The skirt is a flowing satin affair with high splits. I put on some stockings patterned with roses so they can peek out of the skirt on every step.
I flick the light on in the bathroom and smile at the woman in the mirror. It’s almost as if this person doesn’t even know beige, boring Helen. I sweep dark purple eye shadow across my lids, coloring in dark lines around my eyes and adding deep red lipstick. I let my long hair flow down my back and brush it until it falls like gold glitter.
I love getting dressed up like this. I love mixing elegant with sexy. This is exactly what my section in the magazine would be like. Classy, gorgeous and kinky.
As always, I feel a faint clutch of terror in my chest. What if someone sees me? What if I have to explain to someone in my close circle of friends and family what I’m doing? It’s one thing to be a lesbian. It’s quite another to be kinky.
I try to take a deep breath and the corset holds me in mercilessly. My life is just like this corset. It’s gorgeous and I love wearing it. Even while it squeezes the breath out of me.
I find my shiny satin shoes with the little bows on them and put them on while I look over my earrings. I decide on some antique silver ones that dangle down in trails of stars. When I stand up and look at myself, I barely recognize the woman in the mirror.
On the floor at the end of the bed, today’s outfit lies abandoned like a dead fish fallen from the catch bucket. The loose beige skirt and baggy white sweater. Flesh colored tights and plain, flat shoes.
I don’t have to worry about being recognized by anyone that knows me, if I can’t even recognize myself.
I take a breath so deep it hurts, and this time it’s not the corset. It’s a great bubble of fear that stabs me in the stomach.
I want this deal, but I don’t want to put myself out there.
I return to the comforting thought that maybe I don’t have to. I could pay someone, couldn’t I? Surely there would be girls out there who would be happy to hang on my arm for a price? That just opens up a whole new realm of speculation.
What kind of price? What kind of girl? Could I stand to spend time with someone who could be bought in such a way?
I’m right on the verge of cursing Lisa and her damn deal. I want to go back to how it was before—simple.
Something in me rebels. It’s like a bell clanging in my blood. This morning I was in despair because I wanted a change. Now I’m complaining because I got one.
Even I’m sick of me. How could anyone else want to be with me?
I get angry at Lisa, just a bit. It’s unfair for her to put me in this position. If she wants to take the magazine in a new direction, she doesn’t need me. If she truly wants to give me my own section, she doesn’t have to impose impossible conditions on me.
But I know, she’s not a monster boss. She’s my friend. These conditions aren’t a punishment, there a kick in the butt. An incentive.
Something about the way she looked at me implies that she knows about my hidden urges. That she is very clear on the sort of section I’ll be producing if I get my own pages. It scares me a bit that she might know what I’ve been trying so desperately to hide, but it might be that she’s reaching out to draw me into the light.
