Flesh For Fantasy. Joan Elizabeth Lloyd
with a plastic apron.
“Yes, I see,” Candy said. “Why do you dye it?”
“It’s a witch’s mark.”
“And it’s so kinky.” Candy lifted a strand of her long blond hair from her temple. “It wouldn’t look as good on me, she said. She returned her attention to Barbara. “But on you…”
“Well…”
As they started to talk about styles, Maggie said, “She sounds like she knows what she’s talking about, so let her do whatever she wants. I’ll be back.” Over her shoulder, she called, “And don’t forget the nails.”
Maggie left the salon and walked purposefully back to the mirrored section of wall. With people unable to see her, Maggie stood staring at herself. Since no one could hear her, she talked aloud to herself. “It’s been six months since I, whatever, and my hair hasn’t grown nor does it need to be colored.” She looked down. “My nails are perfect and I don’t look any older.” She walked close to the mirror and stared at her skin. “No new lines. No signs of age. Nothing.”
“And you won’t age,” a voice she recognized as Angela’s said. “You’ll just continue as you were on the day you died. That’s one of the advantages of an assignment like this.”
“Have you done this kind of thing often?” Maggie asked.
“Not really, but it does happen occasionally,” Lucy said. “How’s it going?”
“Don’t you know?”
“Not really,” Angela said. “We don’t have the time to watch what’s happening. We just drop in from time to time.”
“Could Barbara hear you if she were here?”
“No,” Angela continued. “Only you can hear us, and see us if it becomes necessary. But creating corporeal images on earth is very energy inefficient and in most cases unnecessary.”
“How do you like Barbara?” Lucy asked.
“Actually, she’s really nice. But mousy. She’s got zero self-confidence. Even with a good hairstyle and attractive clothes, she’s not going to be a beauty.”
“You’re not a Miss America candidate yourself,” Lucy said.
“Oh now, Lucy,” Angela said, “that’s unkind.”
“Look you two,” Maggie said, “I know I’m not gorgeous, but I’m attractive. I use what I’ve got and I’ve never wanted for companions, paid and unpaid.”
“That’s the first lesson your friend Barbara has to learn,” Angela said. “It’s the gleam in the eye not the meat on the bones that makes a woman sexy.”
“Listen, we’ve got other fish to fry, as it were,” Lucy said. “Go pick Barbara up. She’s waiting for you.”
“But it’s only been about five minutes,” Maggie protested.
“You already know that time has little meaning in your existence, Angela said. “Go pick her up.”
Her head now empty of voices, Maggie walked back to Expert Tresses and, sure enough, Barbara had just finished signing the charge slip. Maggie looked her friend over. The white streak was now prominent in Barbara’s slightly darkened, carefully cut brown hair. Styled so it fell just at her shoulders, her hair curled up at the ends and moved gracefully as Barbara moved. She looked at Maggie and shrugged.
“You look just great,” Maggie said. “What an improvement. And you’ve got makeup on.”
Barbara stuffed the charge-card receipt into her wallet and walked out of the salon. “It’s hard remembering not to talk to you where anyone might hear.”
“Sorry.”
“Candy gave me a few tips about foundation and eye makeup so I bought a few things and she and another woman helped me put this stuff on. Does it look okay?”
Maggie studied Barbara’s light taupe shadow, soft brown liner, blush, and lipstick. “You really look nice. You’ll need more for evenings, of course, but for day wear, it’s just great.”
Barbara stopped at the same mirrored section of the wall. “You really think so? It’s so obvious. I look made up.”
“You look like you took some time to enhance your looks. That’s great. You don’t always have to look like you got up late for work.”
“I don’t…”
“You do most of the time. There’s nothing wrong with taking a little time to look good.”
“It’s vain.”
“It’s just good sense. Vanity in large doses is bad. Feeling good about the way you look is good. Let’s see what we can do now about your wardrobe.”
“After lunch. I’m starving.”
“We just had breakfast.”
Barbara looked at her watch. “That was almost five hours ago and I, for one, am famished.”
In the food court, Barbara bought a corned beef sandwich with fries and a pickle. With her plate in one hand and a 7Up in the other, she found a small table off to one side of the seating area. She sat with her back to the other shoppers so she could talk to Maggie without everyone thinking she was nuts. As they talked, Maggie occasionally picked up a french fry and nibbled on it. Barbara wondered what others would see if they looked. Would a french fry just lift up into the air, then disappear?
The two women then spent the afternoon doing serious damage to Barbara’s credit card. They bought several soft bright-colored silk blouses and two skirts, considerably shorter than Barbara had been used to. “You have great legs,” Maggie said several times. “Show them off. You want to catch the eye of that boss of yours, don’t you?”
Unable to argue without seeming like a nut, Barbara went along. In a shoe boutique, Maggie bullied Barbara into purchasing a pair of black, two-and-a-half-inch high opera pumps and a pair of knee-high brown butter-soft suede boots with stiletto heels.
As they started for the parking lot of the mall, Maggie spotted a Victoria’s Secret store. “Let’s go in,” she said.
“I have underwear,” Barbara said.
“I’ll bet not the right kind.”
Barbara had just about given up arguing so together the two women entered the store. Maggie all but dragged her friend to a display of lacy bra and panty sets. Both the bra and the panty were mostly net with flowers embroidered in strategic places. “Get the black one, the white one, and the light blue.”
“But, Maggie,” Barbara said, “they’re so slutty.”
A saleswoman whirled around. “Yes,” she said, “can I help you? I’m sorry I didn’t hear your last question.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
The saleswoman looked around, then shrugged. “Those lace sets are on sale, she said. “It’s buy two and get the third for a dollar.”
“The black, the white, and the light blue,” Maggie said, knowing she couldn’t be heard by anyone but Barbara. “And don’t argue. You know you want them and you don’t ever have to wear them. just indulge me.”
“Okay,” Barbara said, looking at the pleasant saleswoman. “I’ll take the light blue and the white.”
“A third set will only cost a dollar more.”
Maggie tapped her foot and arched an eyebrow.
“Okay,” Barbara agreed. “I guess I’ll take the black as well.”
“Good choice,” the woman said. “And the size?”
“It’s been