“So,” Polly sighed as she sat down on the bench in my dressing room and watched me. “Tell me all about how you and Noah met.”
“Um, I guess like anyone else does,” I said, trying to figure out the contraption of a dress that she’d handed to me to try on next.
“No one meets in exactly the same way. Everyone has a story. Give me the details, girlfriend,” she said, helping me with the dress.
And then I got giddy because her curiosity was going to let me play with Noah a bit. He had told me to say as much as I wanted. “Well, he’d probably kill me for telling you this, so I’ll have to swear you to secrecy.”
“Bitch’s honor.” She put her middle and index fingers directly under her eyes like Samantha on Bewitched. She won me over completely with that little maneuver—a psycho after my own heart.
“I met him outside a drag queen show,” I said in a hushed whisper. “He was so pretty that I thought he was one of the performers.”
“Noah Crawford was at a drag queen show?” Polly shrieked, and then started giggling when I cupped my hand over her mouth and shushed her.
“He said that he wasn’t familiar with the area, wanted a drink, and wandered in there by mistake,” I embellished. “He was outside smoking a cigarette when I showed up, and I’ve always secretly wondered if it was because he’d just gotten his rocks off.”
Polly and I laughed together, and it felt really nice.
“Then what?” she asked, hanging on my every word.
“Well, I might have given him the ‘uh-huh, like I’m going to believe that’ look, at which point he proceeded to ogle the girls,” I said, flexing the boobage. “Just to prove a point, I’m sure.”
“You do have nice tits.” She shrugged, as if to say, That makes sense.
“So anyway, he asked me out for a drink, and because he was so cute, trying to prove how manly he was, I let him fuck me. I haven’t been able to get rid of him since,” I laughed.
“Well, I’m glad to hear he’s finally decided to settle down somewhat, especially after what happened with Julie,” she said, adjusting my tits in the dress. I think she secretly wanted to grope them. I wasn’t the least bit offended, if that was the case, but I was curious about what she’d said.
“Julie? Who’s Julie?” I asked, eager for any intel on Noah’s past. Not because I cared, but because I wanted the ammunition should the need for it arise later.
“No one. Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything,” she said quickly. “Hey, you are absolutely smoking in this dress.”
Way to change the subject, little sneaky one. I’ll have to keep my eye on you, I thought.
~$~
I couldn’t even begin to tell you how long we spent shopping. I let Polly choose the majority of the clothes, and all of the shoes. I wasn’t opposed to looking nice, and I actually really loved all the cute shoes she picked out, even though I knew they were a safety hazard for someone like me. She refused to let me buy any underwear because Noah wanted to do that part. But really, couldn’t a girl just get some regular cotton panties?
Finally Polly decided we should break for a late lunch.
“So, tell me a little bit about yourself,” she said, digging into her salad.
“What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know. The basics, I guess. Where are you from? Who are your parents? What do you do? That sort of stuff. I mean, Noah even kept your name hush-hush,” she said with a roll of her eyes, clearly aggravated by his refusal to give her any details about me.
“That’s because I’m in the witness protection program,” I said nonchalantly before I took a bite of my sandwich.
“You’re what?” She dropped her fork.
“Yep,” I said, doing my damnedest not to crack a smile.
My attempt was futile because the look on her face was simply priceless, and I lost it, practically spewing bread crumbs all over the place.
“You little liar!” she laughed. “You almost had me there. Now, tell me the truth.”
“Okay, the truth is I’m from Graceland and Elvis Presley is my father.”
“Elvis and Graceland?” she said with an arched brow. “Aren’t you a little too young to be his kid?”
“Uh-uh. Haven’t you heard? He isn’t really dead. He’s off with Tupac and Biggie, popping pills and smoking ganja.”
Polly sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Would you believe Michael Jackson and the Neverland Ranch?” I asked in my best Maxwell Smart impersonation. “I’m white enough for that, right?”
“All right, smartass,” she said, throwing a cucumber slice at me. “I get it. You obviously don’t want to talk about yourself. But why is that, Lanie? What are you hiding?”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” I pointed an accusing finger at her. “Noah already warned me all about your conniving little ways. Don’t try to go all supersleuth on me. I’m really just not that interesting. I come from a small town, and I moved out to LA because I had big dreams of breaking into the porn industry. It just didn’t work out.” I shrugged.
Polly choked on her water and I couldn’t help but laugh at the look of shock on her face.
“I’m kidding … about the small town.” I giggled.
That earned another huff from Polly, but she finally dropped the subject when I asked her to tell me about herself. Apparently she had no secrets whatsoever. She even told me about the sexual position she and her husband had tried out the night before, and said I should try it with Noah. But what she didn’t know, and could never know, was that I was a virgin hooker and really had no say in what Noah and I did in the bedroom … or on the dining room table … or in the limo … or in the bathtub, for that matter. Not that I’d know what the hell I was doing in the first place.