Scribe: "Snicker"

Most people, upon finding out that they are considered a shameless flirt, by both men and women, would pause to reflect on their previous behavior. Most people, upon realizing that their attitudes and actions, words and gestures, were considered flagrantly inciteful, would quickly change their manner, and become more demure, and retiring.

Yeah, well...

It was kind of exciting.

giggle

Jimmy had given me something to think about, though. He walked me the rest of the way home. When we got there, the door opened before I could use my key. Lois was there, one pump clad foot tapping. "Thanks for the escort, Jimmy." I said.

"Don't mention it." He leaned over and kissed me, and I think I felt just a little bit of tongue, then saluted Lois, winked at me, and sauntered off. I went in. The chill in the air as I passed Lois raised goose bumps on my arms. I went and sat in the livingroom. After she locked the door, she joined me, sitting across from me.

She crossed her arms, crossed her legs, and began tapping in mid air, one foot bouncing. At last I said, "You're mad, right?"

She sighed deeply. "I'm not mad, Scribe. I'm disappointed..."

I jumped up. "Jesus! For god's sake, not the 'I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed' bit. Isn't that legally reserved strictly for parents, grandparents, teachers and clergy? You sure as hell looked mad back at the club."

"You lied to me, Scribe. You were supposed to be going home."

"I never said I was going right home. I just..." I stopped, and shook my head. "No, I'm not gonna cop out that way. Any kid of mine used that kind of line, their butt would be as tanned as if they'd spent a weekend on a sunbed. I went because I wanted to go. I have fun there, Lois. They like me."

I hesitated. There was something I wanted to know. I'm sure that there were a million subtle, circuitous ways I could have phrased it, and gotten the answer I needed. Being myself, I was as tactful as a drunk at a MADD meeting. "Lois, are you hot for me?"

She didn't choke. That interviewing training must include being unflappable. She looked surprised, though, and said, "Aren't we a teeny bit self involved?"

"Absolutely," I agreed. "One of my more charming characteristics."

"Let's say... I'm warm for you."

"Fair enough."

"Does that bother you?"

"Like most things in this world, it confuses me. I thought you had something going with Superman."

"I do, but we're not exclusive. Well," her lips twisted in a wry smile. "I'm not. Him, I don't know. How do you feel about it?"

I sat cross-legged on the couch, elbows on knees, and chin in hand. "I'm honestly not sure. I got kind of tingly when Super put the moves on me, Jimmy got a tingle out of me, I'm feeling some real interesting vibrations from you. I even might have been warmed up a little by Diana Prince, if she wasn't so freakin' scary."

Lois sat up straighter. "You're right there. Don't mess with her, Scribe. She's way out of your league. She's rough trade."

I blinked. "You mean as in S and M?"

"I mean as in ropes, gags, and iron bracelets, and if you don't like it, too damn bad."

"Eeeeewww. Not my scene. Nope. Scratch her off my Christmas list."

"Then you shouldn't go back to Lavender's Green. I've checked around, and she's been hanging out there."

"It's a public place, Lois. Nothing's going to happen to me in a public place."

She sighed. "I guess I'd have to tie you up to stop you, wouldn't I?"

I nodded. "And I already told you that's not my scene."

"And what is 'your scene'?"

"It has yet to be discovered."

"Want to look for it?"

I looked at her carefully. She was serious. I was flattered. After all, she was a very attractive woman. Hell, she was dating Superman, and she was interested in me? But I was too keyed up to make any kind of real judgement.

Yeah, that's right, I was being cautious. Stop laughing!

"Not tonight. Still too many bells and whistles in my head." I got up and crossed over to her. I bent down and kissed her.

Wow. Totally different from kissing a guy. Much softer. No whiskers. Very smooth. Extremely interesting. I pressed a little harder, and her lips opened.

Whoa. Okay, I'm kissing another woman open mouthed. As long as I'm doing that, I might as well kind of slide my tongue over and.....................................................................

Excuse me. Lost my train of thought there for a minute. She must have had a strawberry daiquiri before she left the club.

I pull back, and I'm breathing like I just ran up two flights of stairs. She just smiles at me and says, "Well."

I clear my throat. "This was a test. This was only a test. Had this been an actual seduction, you would have been instructed to move to the bedroom."

She nods. "That's okay, Scribe. But I'm warning you," her eyes glitter. "If you do something like that again, I may go Amazon on you and pull a Diana Prince. So be careful."

I decide that it might be prudent to adjourn to my bedroom.

The next morning, I'm seriously considering not going by Lavender's Green for that practice session with the band.

Okay, so I'm not so serious in the consideration. But I am thinking that maybe I should tone things down just a teeny, weeny bit.

snort

No, hey, really, I might have, if temptation hadn't been thrown in my face. Or rather slapped down on my desk. It came in the form of a pay envelope. I looked quizzically at Jimmy, who was on Payroll Patrol. "I haven't been here long enough to get one of these, have I?"

"The first article about you ran yesterday." He pointed. "That's your fee. Gonna take a poor, dry cub reporter out for a few?"

I ripped open the envelope. "So, what, you're a gigolo now?"

He leaned on my desk. "If given half the chance, but don't worry. I'm cheap and easy."

"Music to a dirty old broad's ears, sweetie. Holy moley." I pulled out a sheaf of bills. "Will you look at that?" I started counting. It looked kind of funny to me, not quite the right size, texture, or color, but it had the definite feel of genuine currency. "I think there's... Damn, two hundred. What gives?"

Jimmy examined a slip of paper. "The article was picked up by the wire service. You're gonna be famous, Scribe."

"Well, why not? I'm already a legend in my own mind. Get serious, Jimmy. This will be socked off to the supermarket tabloids in no time. I'll be keeping company with Sasquatch and pregnant ninety year old skydivers."

"I dunno. I think they're gonna hire a free lance photographer to follow you around. The shots will probably go national, too. Better stock up on sunglasses."

"God, you people are easily amused." I stared at the money. "You do know what this means, don't you?"

"What?"

I sighed happily. "Shopping spree."

I came back from lunch loaded down with parcels, and I refused to show them to Jimmy. I hid them in the supply room so I didn't have to explain them to Lois. Hey, I was perfectly justified in all my purchases, I just didn't want to have to defend them.

The mayoral candidate had rescheduled his interview, and now Lois had fresh questions concerning the guy's kid's turn in the drunk tank. Turns out junior had showed up wearing a State Patrol's uniform, complete with Smokey the Bear hat, but inside out. And no one could figure out where the hell it had come from.

That left my afternoon and evening free. Plus I could make my little sartorial and grooming changes without Mama Hen fussing over me.

The first stop after work was Lavender's Green. It wasn't quite open yet, but they let me and Jimmy in. I set Jimmy up with a Kiss in the Night, then I ran through the routine with the band and the waitresses. Oooo, I loved it! It was going to be a little raw, but that was part of the fun. I grabbed a sandwich (Tinkerbelle pouted because I wouldn't let her put it on her tab), and hurried off to a salon Toddy had recommended. "And ask for Clive. Tell him I sent you."

Okay, why not? Lots of guys had their hair styled by girls. As long as I got the effect I wanted. The place was called Attitudes. I liked it already.

I went to the front counter, scanning the familiar scene in back. Chairs, mirrors, shampoo stations. A half dozen patrons, male and female were being shampooed, conditioned, permed, and snipped by what looked to be an entirely female staff.

The receptionist was busy with a crossword puzzle book, and didn't look up. "Can I help you."

"In desperate need of a wash and haircut, please."

"Any particular stylist?"

"I was told to ask for Clive."

The woman yawned. "Everyone wants Clive, but he's selective about who he handles. Being the owner has it's privileges. I don't think he's taking on any new clients right..." She looked up, and her mouth dropped open. "Oh, my god."

I looked around quickly to see who'd come in behind me. No one there, but my braid flew around and almost smacked me in the face. I wrestled it back over my shoulder. "What?"

"Is that all yours?"

I frowned. "No, I mugged a quarter horse for it. Of course it's mine, and I want to get rid of it. What's the big deal?"

"It's just... there's so much of it."

"Yeah. Wait a minute." I mentally whipped through the hair styles I'd seen since arriving. I couldn't remember anything much longer than collar length. And it was natural that someone working in a salon would be more hair conscious. "There aren't many long hairs around these days, are there?"

"Not like that. That's the most I've seen in one place at one time since I've been working here, and that's over eight years."

"Woo, well, I'm number one again. Can you or can you not help me get rid of it?"

"Bettina!" A sprite in a smock, who looked somethin like Tinkerbelle's little sister, bounced up. "Bettina, go tell Clive he has a customer out here."

Bettina squeaked. "But Mr. Clive said he didn't want to be disturbed while his soap opera was on. Not for anyone. I don't want to get reamed out for disturbing him."

"Trust me, he'll be more likely to kiss you."

"I don't understand. He said..."

"Bettina, look at her." Bettina did. I stared back. The receptionist shook her head. "I guess you haven't been here long enough to understand. Just go get him, 'kay? Tell him we've got a live one."

Still looking doubtful, Bettina scurried toward the back of the shop. "You're beginning to worry me." I said.

She smiled. "Don't. If Clive decides to take you on, and I'd bet a month's salary he will, you'll get the best care available. He's so good that the hobnobs fight to get him to do them for their big charity bashes, and he only works on people who interest him."

"Uh..." I counted my remaining funds. Still pretty substantial, but I wanted to be able to pay Lois back for all the things she'd fronted me. "I'm not sure I'm going to be able to afford Clive."

"Don't worry. If he likes you, he'll work with you."

"And I'd like to know just who is so important that my express orders are disobeyed?" a voice roared. People jumped. There was a squeak that probably meant that some serious repair work was going to have to be done on some butchered 'do.

He came stalking up the aisle, kicking aside fluffs of hair with a pair of dead black engineer boots. Kind of like the kind I'd bought myself that afternoon. He went directly to the counter, focused in on Crossword Girl, totally oblivious to ducking and scattering stylists, and a twittering Bettina.

He wasn't big. He was about five seven, or eight, about my height. But he didn't give the impression of 'little'. He was wearing tight black leather pants, and a very tight black tank shirt that showed a well cut torso like it was painted on. His bare arms and shoulders were hairless and gleaming pale, but not the least bit 'girly'. His hair was longer than the style of the day, falling over his forehead and ears. It would have brushed his collar, if he'd been wearing one. It was a very thick, heavy mass of light brown waves. His face was starkly handsome, with high cheekbones and a wide mouth. And he had absolutely enormous brown eyes the exact color of a slightly melted Hershey's kiss. But they were snapping right now, and that full mouth was in a thin, hard line. I had the feeling that maybe I shouldn't attract too much attention to myself when he was in this mood.

He growled, "You know damn good and well I don't want to be disturbed for Eleanor Fucking Roosevelt when Destiny's Dilemma is on. It's on a commercial right now, so I have to hurry. What gives?" She pointed.

He glanced at me, then did a visible double take. He came around the counter, and I took a step back. I did not want to get this person riled. "No! Don't run away." His tone had suddenly gone from Royally Pissed to What Have We Here?

"Do you have people run away from you often?"

He smiled. The Hot Factor went up several points. "When I'm being a bastard, but that isn't all the time. I'm Clive." He held out a hand.

I shook it. "I gathered. My name is Scribe, and Toddy over at Lavender's Green suggested I come to you." I had a feeling that the gear wasn't a fashion statement. I also had a feeling that the attitude wasn't for show, either. A few of the folks at the clubs I ran with Alex and Lawrence had been into the B and D scene, and this guy looked like a Dominant, with a capital D.

"Oh, he's a good man, Toddy is."

"But the Cryptic Queen over there says you aren't taking new clients. So, I could use one of the others..."

"Don't be so hasty. Would you mind very much turning around and letting me have a look at your hair? I need to see if there's anything I can do with it." I obliged. "Would you mind if I undid this braid? It's a bit ratty, and I need to get a feel for your hair before I decide."

"Please yourself."

"Oh, thank you, dear girl. I will," he breathed. I felt him carefully unloop the rubber band that held the tail together. Boy, he was good. I didn't feel a single pinch. Then he unraveled the braid. A good bit of the curl was gone after the braiding, but it still fluffed and bushed and spiraled in an embarrassingly enthusiastic manner. His fingers combed through the length, disengaging a few tangles.

He'd moved up pretty close behind me. He was plunged almost elbow deep in my hair now. I could feel his hands encircling the back of my skull. "Oh, yessss," he sighed.

Hello. New kink, and I don't mean a permanent wave. "Um, does this mean I'm acceptable as a new client?"

His chuckle, right beside my ear, was warm and dark. "I'm going to do your hair."

"You know, if it's too much trouble, someone else can..."

"No, you don't understand. I'm going to do your hair. No one else gets their hands on you."

"Don't I have any say in this?"

"No."

"Uh, okay."

He took hold of one long, loose curl, and began to lead me toward the back of the shop. "I'm off duty for the rest of the afternoon. Bettina, love, if you allow anyone back to my private station, I'll kill you slowly."