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Dear Lord.
I pushed off with my foot and rolled him on to his back. My hair fell around us when I lifted my head.
“I can do that,” I told him, and I was pretty certain I could, or at the very least I could try.
I started to work my way down his chest.
“You better be here in the morning,” he murmured when my mouth was at his abs.
I ran my tongue along the waistband of his jeans and he ran a hand through my hair.
“I’ll make the coffee,” I promised.
“I don’t give a shit about coffee. I’m thinkin’ about the shower.”
EIGHTEEN
POKER AND STUN GUNS
We got ready at Ally’s, and upon arrival I found that Indy recruited Tod and Stevie for the dress-up portion of the evening.
I walked in the front door, and without saying a word of greeting Tod looked me up and down and said, “I’ve gotjustthe thing.”
Then he rifled through a bunch of dresses, tossing aside shoes and whisking away feather boas. He threw what appeared to be a swatch of navy-blue material at me. I caught it and shook out the dress. It was tiny, stretchy, had spaghetti straps and was stitched with a bazillion little blue plastic disks.
“Shoes!” Tod shouted, snapping his fingers at Stevie, who gave Tod a glare that had to be in contention for The Glare of All Time, such was its magnificence. Still throwing The Glare, Stevie came forward with matching slingbacks that had a pencil-thin heel, a scary pointed toe and a row of the same blue plastic disks that were on the dress were stitched across the toe.
“Tod found the shoes first, then he made the dress,” Stevie informed me.
“I can’t wear this dress,” I whispered to Stevie. “It’s been made for a small child.”
“It’s stretchy,” Stevie whispered back.
“It’s gonna have to be,” I told him.
It was. It covered everything it was supposed to cover (barely) and even came down to mid-thigh if I pulled it hard enough.
Tod did my makeup on a level one half notch down from full-on drag and Daisy did my hair in the only way she knew how. When I looked at myself, I had four times as much hair as I normally had. I didn’t look like me. I looked like eye candy in an 80s rock video.
“How did you do that to my hair?” I asked Daisy.
“Magic, sugar,” she answered.
Ally and Indy were in the same getups. Indy was in green Lycra with a slashed neckline that gave more than a hint of cleavage (muchmore). Ally was wearing her own red knit dress with a turtle neck but no sleeves, a teardrop cut out at her cleavage and it was so short she wouldn’t be able to bend over for fear of an inadvertent moon.
“My babies! I’m so proud. You look like the Burgundy-ettes,” Tod cooed, throwing his arms out to encompass us all and then hugging us in turn. His drag name was Burgundy Rose and he looked in danger of proposing a road show.
“We better get going,” Indy said quickly before Tod could produce a Tina Turner CD and make us practice doing backup for “Proud Mary.”
Stevie stood at the door.
“All right, girls.” He handed out bags as we trooped through. “I’ve checked. Stun guns and Tasers are charged, pepper sprays are readily available. Knock ’em dead.”
Dear Lord.
I took my bag, gave Stevie a kiss on the cheek and we rolled out to the Mustang. We almost couldn’t fit all of our hair into the car, but luckily we were wearing fewer clothes so it balanced out.
“Jet?” Indy called, turning in the front passenger seat to look at me when Ally started to follow the directions Daisy gave her.
