Chapter 1
Eighth Street downtown wasn't the best section of town but if you went through the city's urban development program you could pick up an old Victorian for a song. That's what Miranda Saunderson, and her room mate, Jan Feldon did last summer. It was the Wendell place, one hundred-thirty years old, and Miranda finally convinced Jan it was the buy of the century.
Miranda and Jan were the owners, operators of Hendersonville's lingerie boutique, located in the heart of downtown, next to the deli and Cheap Shot camera store. They started the business back in eighty three but didn't share a home until Miranda pointed out the savings to both if they bought a home together.
That was her forte, saving money. Miranda was the sort of girl who lived frugally. She kept her share of the profits stashed away in bank accounts all over town, while Jan, well, let's just say the only thing Jan Feldon ever saved were ticket stubs from the Van Halen concert at Hendersonville's civic center last October, and a picture of Tom Cruise she acquired after buying her Lady Buxton.
It was getting late and Marty would arrive any minute. Jan scurried around the house getting ready while Miranda fixed a chef salad for supper. Typical scene of their lives together. Miranda spent her free time sketching designs for their lingerie store while Jan danced, kissed, flirted and frittered her evenings away on the arm of a different male escort every night.
"What time is it now?" Jan yelled from the bathroom.
"Quarter till."
"Shit! Well, he'll just have to wait." Jan said, with defiance. She pretended to mind running late for her dates, but the truth was, she loved keeping the men waiting. Jan thought it gave her the edge
"Jan will be ready shortly, Marty. So, where are over the evening. She figured if you make a man simmer with anticipation right from the start, the entire evening would be under your control.
Miranda got the salad dressing from the refrigerator then sat to enjoy the meal. She was used to dining alone. It was a nightly ritual, as Jan rarely ate at home. She flipped on the news then settled back.
"Well?" Jan asked, entering the room. "What do you think?" Miranda looked up then gave a grin.
"He'll go nuts." she said.
"You think so?"
"Absolutely, Jan, how could it miss. It's terrific."
"I'm wearing the Sean LeFlur." Jan said, spinning around once then striking a sexy pose. Miranda didn't comment. Sean LeFlur was underwear. She wasn't quite sure how to respond.
Just then, the doorbell rang and Jan scampered to the bedroom. She told Miranda to invite him in then keep him occupied until she was ready. Miranda didn't question it. She already knew the game. She opened the door and Marty came inside.
"Hi, I'm Miranda, Jan's room mate, won't you come in?" she smiled sweetly. Marty introduced himself then took a seat on the sofa. He had flowers and candy for Jan and when Miranda offered him a drink, she took the pretty bouquet and put it in water.
"Jan will be ready shortly, Marty. So, where are you two going?" she asked.
"I thought we might have dinner at Marilee's then get in some dancing." he said, taking his scotch.
"Marilee's?" Miranda smiled. "Lovely restaurant." she said, showing approval. "The Ninth Street Disco?" she added.
"Ya, Jan likes it there. So, Jan tells me you're the designer for the shop?"
"Not really." Miranda blushed. She fancied herself a designer but was too humble to openly refer to herself as one. After all, she had no formal training in the field. It was just something she liked doing and something she did well. "I dabble in it." she said.
"I'd say no was more than a dabble. Jan's modeled several of your creations for me and I must tell you." Marty fanned his palm up and down gesturing heat, then smiled. There it was again, Miranda thought. Reference to Jan's underwear. Miranda wondered how many Hendersonville men had actually seen them. She dated a different man every night, all three hundred sixty five of them, and had been doing so since high school. Miranda's numerically efficient brain went to work with a quick calculation, figuring a potential of possible viewers and, after allowing for the standard ten percent margin of error, concluded the total number of men who actually saw Jan's under things could be, one thousand, nine hundred seventy. Naw, she thought, there's no way. Miranda thanked Marty for the compliment then filled his glass again with scotch.
"Careful," he warned, jokingly. "I'm a madman when drunk." Miranda blushed. She wasn't in practice talking with men. She dated once, in high school, but Chad Barrett wasn't a challenge to her feminine charm. He took her to the drive-in picture show and gurgled soda pop in between devouring two foot longs with chili,• onion and relish. Making an effort with him would be like sticking your finger in an electric fan without getting cut. It would be the ultimate challenge but who would want to try?
"Don't get drunk, Marty." Miranda said. "Jan would never forgive me if her date passed out before you two had a chance to eat dinner."
"Speaking of dinner, where is that woman?" Marty asked, looking at his watch. It was getting late and their reservation wouldn't keep forever. "I'll go see what's keeping her." Miranda smiled. "Don't go away." Miranda went to the bedroom and found Jan listening to a Van Halen tape. She couldn't believe the attitude of the girl. A perfectly handsome gentleman waiting to whisk her off to dinner and she was keeping him all this time for no good reason.
"Jan." Miranda shook her shoulder. Jan removed the ear phones. "Are you coming?"
"In a minute." Jan said, putting them back on.
"Jan." Miranda shook her again.
"What?"
"Marty is waiting."
"So, let him."
"It's getting late, Jan. Maybe you'd better go. He brought flowers and candy." Miranda said, her eyes wide with brow raised. Miranda was impressed by Marty's romantic gesture. No one ever brought her flowers or candy. No one ever brought Miranda anything. She figured when Jan learned of her dates sweet offering the girl would put down the ear phones and hurry to be, by his side.
"Oh, just great." she sneered. "I hate it when they do that." she snipped. "Men are such assholes, Miranda, don't you think so?" Miranda didn't understand her room mates reaction. Giving flowers and candy seemed like a perfectly lovely thing for a man to do.
"I thought it was sweet." she said.
"My ass! Don't they realize we don't look the way we do just by accident? Candy, for God's sake, Miranda. Would you eat it?"
"Well, sure I would." Miranda said. "Maybe not in one night, but sure, I'd nibble. Good grief, Jan, the man didn't have to bring a thing. I like Marty. He seems very romantic. Anyway, he's starting to look at his watch. I think you'd better come on."
"Oh, alright, just give me another minute. Ya know what your problem is, Miranda?" Jan asked, smirking. "You give too much importance to a man. They're all just after one thing and the longer we keep them waiting for it, the more control we have deciding when and how then get it."
Miranda entertained Marty another five minutes before Jan finally came out with her bright red mini showing off the shapely curves of her sexy legs and Marty looked as if he'd explode the minute she entered the room. Jan had flare. She was exciting and flamboyant, yet sensually mysterious. Miranda often thought she'd like to be more like her business partner. Jan was flirtatious and vibrant. She had a knack of wooing customers, especially the men, and livening up a room seemed her specialty. Keeping the books and sketching a few designs didn't have the ostentatious appeal Miranda fantasized about, but it was what she did best and, after all, for every mover and shaker there had to be an opposite. It was nature's law.
Marty hailed a cab and they drove toward Marilee's. She sat with her knees to him and let his eyes feast on the sight of silk stocking disappearing under the skirt. Marty didn't waste a second looking at Jan's feminine figure. He took in every curve of it before the cabbie turned the first corner, and by the time they made Marilee's, his cock was feeling the heat.
The table was beautiful and Marty pulled out her chair. Jan always made it a point to flaunt her figure and as she sat down, let her date see a glimpse of garter belt.
"I just love Marilee's. "Jan purred. "Don't you?"
"It's very nice, Jan, very nice." Marty said. His eyes looked hungry but the menu at Marilee's wasn't what he had in mind. It alone wouldn't be enough to satisfy the pangs. He needed more than mere food to stop the yearning in his stomach. He needed Jan.
"So, did you and Miranda get to know each other?" she asked, putting her napkin in place.
"Miranda, sure, I guess. She's a nice kid. A little too goody-goody, but nice. Now, you on the other hand." he said, making that same stupid fanning motion.
"What do you mean, goody-goody?" she asked.
"Nothing, just ... well, you know what I mean, Jan. Miranda is the kind of girl you fix your brother up with. She's sweet and pleasant. She's the sort of girl you'd date if you wanted hot tea by the fire and a bag of Pepperidge Farm cookies. I like the kid, she's just, well, not a fire ball, you know what I mean?"
"Ya, Miranda is kind of dull, isn't she?" Jan smiled. Jan asked her dates the same questions, the first always what they thought about Miranda. She did it to feel the tingle of lust it gave her as all the men noted Miranda's sweet personality but lack of fire. Jan liked hearing it. She needed to hear it to feel superior. It was her only way to compensate for the void she felt working along side a woman who could handle any thing. Jan knew Miranda's brain was the reason behind their business success and she felt inferior to her most of the time, but when Jan's dates remarked that Miranda lacked fire, she somehow became engulfed in it, and the rest of the evening was hot for both she and her nightly selection.
The dishes were washed and put away and Miranda changed into the long tee-shirt nightie she'd bought during her trip to Disney World. She took out her sketch pad and doodled a few lines then let the book fall to her lap. Miranda didn't want to admit this, but she was lonely. Sitting home night after night was getting to her and after talking with Jan's date she felt the realization stronger than ever.
She thought back to their conversation and remembered the way Marty looked at her when she spoke. Miranda liked it when a man looked right into her eyes. She took it as a sign he had nothing to hide, that he was up front, honest and. to be trusted. Some men looked off when they talked, and Miranda wasn't comfortable with that. The guy at Best Gas Station did that and she figured him to be married and stepping out on the wife.
Miranda did that. She imagined whole scenarios about people's lives just by the color of their hair or the way they moved their lips when they talked. She fancied herself a good judge of character, able to pick out the good guys from the bad, but more than that, Miranda justified her loneliness because of her ability to judge people. She told herself that was the reason she didn't date. There was no one out there who's character couldn't be questioned, except of course Jan's dates, which all seemed to her the pick of the crop.
She made some hot tea then settled in for the nine o'clock movie. Miranda loved the old black and white's. Fred and Ginger toyed with romance between their spontaneous dance numbers and Jimmy Stewart had such innocent appeal. She absolutely fell in love with him in, Mr. Smith goes to Washington. Miranda wondered at what point in his career he became known as James. Maybe, she thought, it was after the war when he made, It's a Wonderful Life, but Miranda didn't dwell on it. She just soaked him in, whether they billed him as Jimmy or James.
Tonight's feature starred Jean Crane in, Pinky, one of Miranda's favorites. It seemed silly having someone as light as Crane portray a black woman but her performance was so convincing, the viewer had no choice but to believe it. Miranda wondered what her life would be like had she been born black. Would she have the shop with Jan? Would she even know Jan? Was it right for Pinky to deny the white's assumption she was white? Miranda tried to put herself in the same situation then speculate what she might have done. Probably the same thing, she thought. It wouldn't be a matter of denying her race so much, just a way to get further alone in life. Blacks didn't have it easy back in Pinky's time, and for that matter, Miranda reasoned, they still don't.
The evening dragged on and after the movie Miranda went to bed. She wasn't tired really, but it was bed-time, and at bed-time you go to bed. She stared at the ceiling for awhile then rolled over on her stomach and tried counting sheep. Whom ever came up with that idea must have had mush for brains, she thought. Not only couldn't she picture what a sheep looked like, the three animals she did manage to conjure up kept slamming their heads into the hurdles. Miranda figured it was better to stare at the ceiling than get a headache watching poor furry creatures break their necks.
She thought about Marty again seeing his pretty green eyes in her mind. What if Marty liked me better than Jan, she thought? What if he really wanted to take me to Marilee's but was too much the gentleman to break his date with her? Miranda closed her eyes and fantasized the scene.
Marty knocked at the door and she let him in. Right away, his face lit up seeing Miranda's girlish figure and smooth complexion. She could tell he was eager to kiss her, but for the sake of lady-like behavior, she wouldn't let him, at least not yet.
She offered him a drink then took the seat next to him. Marty couldn't concentrate on anything but her. His upper lip began to sweat and excitement welled in his veins. He undid his tie then the buttons on his shirt, and Miranda watched as he slipped it off exposing his muscular chest and long masculine arms.
Marty moved close to her on the sofa. He took her in his arms and pressed her face to his bare chest. She felt the wetness in her pussy as he kissed her tenderly on the lips and just as she was about to break free, he reached down fingering her smooth soft slit.
Miranda couldn't fight it. The passion in her veins flowed like rain water down a gutter blocked street. She spread her thighs for him letting his masculine finger dip all the way in, then she lay back on the sofa as Marty knelt between her legs.
The heat from his tongue warmed her soaking hole and the deeper he probed, the hotter she became. Her hands took his head and pulled him closer. Miranda felt the length his tongue slipping in and out, and she held him to her, letting the stimulation of lust overpower her body. Miranda's finger darted in and out of her pussy as she fantasized about Jan's date. She imagined Marty's moans of pleasure as he slid his swollen cock into her wide eager snatch and she moaned in reply, feeling the thrusts of her digit going deeper up the slimy canal. Miranda hadn't been flicked by a man in three years. She felt so guilty getting drunk that night and picking up a total stranger that she made it a policy not to date, until every memory of that evening was erased from her mind. She masturbated to get relief, that's how she managed, and usually she found herself masturbating using a fantasy involving Jan's date. If she liked him, she'd indulge, but if she didn't, she'd eat ice cream. That was the way it worked out, but this night, Miranda was indulging. She was feeling the deep penetrating throbs of Marty's cock as he buried it in her pussy and nothing would spoil it.
When Jan came home Miranda was washing her hands. Two minutes sooner and Jan would have had solid evidence which might have changed her opinion about her shy withdrawn room mate. Jan said hello then got a beer from the kitchen before coming in to tell Miranda about her date. Jan made it a point to fill her in. She liked seeing the envy on Miranda's face.
"So, ask me what happened?" Jan said. Miranda dried her hands then grinned.
"What happened?" she smiled.
"He's the biggest jerk I've ever been out with, that's what happened." Jan followed Miranda to her room then told of Marty's attempts to get her in the sack. Miranda listened with her usual keen interest.
"We were dancing, right. The jerk grabs my ass and say's, hey, baby, let's get the fuck out of here." Jan said. Jan used that word all the time. She tossed it around like a little leaguer tosses his balls but Miranda never used it. The F-word wasn't a word ladies should make part of their vocabulary.
"Did you leave?" Miranda asked.
"Sure we did, what do you think." Jan laughed. She liked teasing Miranda. She got a kick seeing her squirm for the details.
"Where'd you go?" Miranda asked, hoping Jan would take the usual pleasure in describing her evening.
"Lake House." Jan said.
"You're kidding? That's the classiest hotel in town. Did you get a room?" Miranda's face lit up.
"No stupid, we fucked on the lobby floor, of course we got a room. It was great. I swear, Miranda, it was the nicest place I'd ever been in. They had crystal chandeliers in the rooms, can you imagine?" Miranda thought it amusing hearing Jan go on and on about the hotel's interior. There she was, in the swankiest hotel this side of the Mississippi River with a man handsome enough to be on television, and all she talked about was light bulbs on the ceiling. What was wrong with this girl, Miranda thought. Had she had so many men that taking in the decor had become more exciting?
"It sounds lovely, Jan." Miranda said, shaking her head in wonder. "So, will you be seeing Marty again?"
"Are you kidding, of course not."
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Because why, Jan. He seemed like a nice guy."
"All men seem like nice guys to you, Miranda, God girl, you need to get out more. Marty's a jerk. He's the kind of guy you take out, spend his money, get a good luck, and let go. God, I'm tired." Jan said, stretching both arms over her head. "I'm going to bed."
"Jan." Miranda said, stopping her before she left. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
Miranda wasn't certain how to do this. She'd never done it before and wasn't sure how to ask without seeming indelicate, but under the circumstances, she had to ask. It seemed like such a waste not to.
"I wonder, well, if you're not going to see Marty anymore, do you think he'd go out with me?" Miranda felt the blood of embarrassment rush to her face. How did she manage to get those words out, she wondered. It was border line humiliating just putting herself in the position of begging for another woman's rejects but to do it with such desperation in her voice was even more degrading. Jan looked at her, then a big grin smeared her face. She was astounded with Miranda. One, for asking, and two, for asking when she knew the man only wanted pussy.
"Getting a little tired of serving sentence?" she joked, referring to Miranda's self imposed prison term for sowing wild oats with a stranger.
"I just don't see any reason to let Marty get away." she said, being as rational as she could.
"Hey, far be it from me to hog the field, honey. There's more than enough players out there for the two of us. Sure, I don't see the harm in your asking Marty out. I'll give you his number."
"I couldn't ask him, Jan." Miranda said.
"Well, how do you expect to go out with him then?"
"I figured he'd want to ask me." Miranda said.