The main character in my sexy new short, Lips of Velvet, Sandra, is all about 1950's glamor. She has the bright red lipstick. Dyed black hair and dark eyeliner. Nifty fifties horned rimmed eyeglasses studded with rhinestones and high heels. She feels very out of place when faced with the very modern and chic Lucy.
Lucy has black hair but hers is gypsy blue black, hanging sleek and stylish. Her clothes are very modern and she smells of Gucci. These two characters throw sparks the moment they meet.
In this sneak peek, Sandra is dishing to her best friend about Lucy.
Enjoy!
Pressing the cell phone to my ear, I tried not to sound desperate. “Advice! I need advice!”
“Let me guess… You are on a tropical island with a hot man who wants to have wild monkey sex but since he wants to share you with his equally hot best friend, you are torn on whether or not you are okay with having a threesome?”
Leaning my head on the cool glass, I choked on something between a laugh and a sob. Backing away from the mirror, I absently read the sign advising employees to wash their hands before returning to work.
Looking back to the mirror, I considered his words. Okay, a bathroom in a Waffle House wasn’t exactly a tropical island. And no, two hot men did not want to make a Sandra-sandwich. But I was conflicted about sex, so Cecil wasn’t that far off.
“Close, Ce.” Gazing at my reflection in the dingy restaurant mirror, I puffed a breath up at my lank black and purple locks. My nifty fifties glasses with their sparkling rhinestones looked cheap in the glow of the fluorescents and my eyes were probably over-lined in black. Who was I to think—with my weirdness—that I could do this? And why was I suddenly feeling so insecure? “I have a situation.”
“Spill, girlfriend.” Ce sounded interested.
“I am attracted to someone.”
Ce gasped and I could imagine him smacking a hand to his forehead in overdone dramatics even though he knew I couldn’t see him. Cecil Gregory was wonderful, the best friend anyone could ever hope for. He would go shopping in the smallest, dingiest vintage store… spend hours looking at fine asses… go to lunch on a moment’s notice. He also had overdone drama down to an art form. “Call the presses, dollface. It is a sign of the end times.”
“It’s someone… inappropriate.”
“Define ‘appropriate.’ Is he tall, dark and stupid? Is he super smart but his balls hang low and wobble to and fro? Come on! I am assuming time is of the essence or you wouldn’t have interrupted my beauty sleep to chat.”
Glancing at my hot pink watch, I saw that it was nearly three thirty in the morning.
Which made sense, really. Last call had been at two thirty. Then we had gotten in the car to get a greasy breakfast… “Time is of the essence. I am holed up in a Waffle House restroom.”
The knob behind me wiggled and, with a toe, I flushed the toilet and called out, “Occupied!”
“Oh-my-tacky-wow.” Ce didn’t try to hide his disgust.
“Don’t judge.” The alcohol that had buffered my thoughts was wearing off; leaving me afraid he would judge me when I told him…
“You wouldn’t have called me if you didn’t want me to judge. So, some guy you picked up at the bar took you to a Waffle House? Is he looking to score or is he a fatty looking for a heart attack?”
Blowing out another breath, I again checked myself out in the mirror. Sucking in my waist, I wondered if the fact that I ate a hefty breakfast after drinking heavily made me look like a fatty. Then again, I was already a big girl so it wasn’t like anyone would assume I was skipping any meals… “Not everyone thinks starving yourself is hot.” I reprimanded automatically. “Anyway, I didn’t call you to discuss social cruelty. By inappropriate I mean… Not my usual type.”
“Are you going to get to the damn point or beat around the bush all night.”
The reference to bush had a blush creeping across my pale face reflected in the mirror.
“It is a woman, Ce.”
Silence met my comment.
Then laughter.
“Well, it’s about damn time you came out of the closet."
Happy writing!
