Chapter 4
The hairdresser looked at Charlotte's reflection in the mirror. "See? What did I tell you?" His nervous fingers flitted along the sides of her head. "Chic. Really, sweetie, I adore it."
Charlotte eyed the new hair style he'd given her and nodded her head. "Yes. I think I like it."
"Think?" he asked in astonishment, his eyebrows shooting up. "It's sensational, sweetie. Curls are in again. There's a style revolution going on. And that means hair styles, too."
Wearily Charlotte slumped her shoulders. For two hours she'd been under multiple pressures listening to the effeminate young man musing, rambling, and chattering on and on about his friends, politics, movie stars, rock groups, and everybody in general. She'd had her hair washed and dried and cut and treated and shaped and styled and set and sprayed. She was irritable. All she wanted to do now was flee.
"It's fine," she muttered.
"And it's not too young for you like you thought it'd be. Remember, you are young. My goodness, suppose Marlene Dietrich thought the way you do, why she'd never have lasted and remained so gorgeous. It's an inner thing, darling. Think young!" Again the hand floated over her head. "I've given you neat, geometric lines. It'll be the rage. Needs no setting now, no curlers. When you need another cut come to see me."
Charlotte got up. "At least I don't look like a country gal," she laughed.
Good heavens, no!" he said. He eyed her figure. "You got nice breasts. Wear tighter blouses," he smiled. Charlotte frowned.
"I calls 'em as I sees 'em," he laughed.
"Thanks," Charlotte said, then pressed a ten-dollar bill into his hand. "Where do I pay?"
"At the desk," he said, pocketing the bill. "Have a good time in New Orleans." He winked.
The rest of the afternoon Charlotte devoted to shopping. She bought two pairs of shoes, five dresses, a purse, some undergarments, and a sheer, black negligee. Her shopping completed, Charlotte stepped off the down escalator and was heading for the exit doors when she saw the girl.
She was behind the perfume counter wrapping a package. Her long, gleaming, blonde hair was neatly brushed, with two pink ribbons pinching back the sides.
It was Carol Lord. The girl who danced at the Pirate's Haven.
Charlotte took a step closer. It had to be
Carol Lord. Nobody else could possibly look like her.
The blonde girl picked up a Mington Department Store label and stuck it across the wrappings, then handed the package to a man. The man leaned forward and whispered something to her. They both laughed, and he left.
Charlotte wondered if she should go to the counter. She stood her ground; after all, it might not be the same girl.
Just then the girl looked Charlotte's way. Their eyes held each other's until the girl flushed then turned away.
Charlotte tingled with a curious kind of excitement. The blonde seemed embarrassed by the brazen look Charlotte had given her. It was as though the girl had read Charlotte's mind. After a moment's hesitation, Charlotte made her way to the perfume counter.
The girl's averted eyes wandered back to Charlotte. With a determined innocence she used her eyes like whips, going over Charlotte's face to her full bosom, down to her legs, then back up again, settling on Charlotte's lips. Then the girl pulled her eyes away and became interested in arranging a counter display.
It was Carol Lord all right. Charlotte looked at the exquisitely classic profile-the beautifully shaped, full eyebrows, the high cheekbones, the dark, long, curling lashes-and caught her breath.
When the girl looked up again, Charlotte deliberately, daringly, hugged the girl's breasts with her eyes. She all but touched the girl, they were so close.
"May I help you?"
Charlotte stared, unable to find her voice.
"This is something new." The girl picked up a bottle and held it toward Charlotte. She reached for her hand, aimed the tester bottle at Charlotte's underwrist and squeezed. "It's called Gemini," she smiled. "Two women in one," she emphasized with a deliberate stare. She opened a box. "It's separated down the middle. Two bottles in one. One for the morning, the other for the evening." She took Charlotte's other wrist and sprayed the stronger perfume. The girl's touch sent a scintillating shiver through Charlotte. "Like it?"
"Yes," Charlotte found her voice. "Very much."
"I thought you would."
"I'll take a bottle."
"Large or small?"
"Large," she said, her eyes on the firm-butted figure twisting under the tight black skirt. "That'll be thirty-five dollars."
"May I write a check."
"Sure."
Without looking up from her checkbook, Charlotte said, "I saw you dance last night at the Pirate's Haven."
Quickly the girl's expression changed. Her eyes darted left, then right, making sure nobody was listening. "Oh, please. Don't mention that."
Charlotte, pen in midair, looked up. "Then you are Carol Lord."
"Shh," the girl said nervously. "Yes. That's my name. But I don't want anyone here to know I work there."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"They're very particular here. I could get fired."
"I didn't know."
The girl's brow creased, showing confusion. "Who are you? Why are you asking questions?"
Charlotte could see by the girl's expression that she was frightened. "Believe me, I'm certainly not out to hurt you. I saw you dance last night. I admired the-well, you dance well. This afternoon I-"
"Look, please don't talk about it anymore," Carol said, her fingers pressing hard against the glass counter top.
"Of course." Charlotte handed her the check.
Carol took it, avoiding the woman's eyes.
Charlotte accepted the package and was about to step away when she stopped short. I can't let it end this way, she thought. She looked at the girl. Had she ruined the moment, acting so suspicious? It was all so difficult for her. She hadn't experienced anything like this. How did one exactly go about picking up a girl? Hell, it's either now or never. I'll just take the initiative.
"Look, Carol. I'd like for you to have dinner with me," she heard her own voice ask.
Carol Lord looked surprised.
"Are you free?"
"Tonight?"
"Yes."
Carol weighed the invitation carefully. Who was this woman? The full-blown woman standing in front of her didn't look like a lesbian. But, yes, yes, she did. She could see it in the direct look of the woman. It didn't mean anything of course, she didn't have anything against lesbians, she'd known a lot of them, permitted many of them to make love to her. But they'd all been very young girls. This was a woman ... and obviously one with class. She was sophisticated. And she didn't hesitate in buying the bottle of perfume; as a matter-of-fact, now Carol knew the woman didn't even want the damn bottle of perfume. She had paid the thirty-five dollars just to become acquainted with her.
"But then you may have made other plans," Charlotte said. Quickly, she added, "If so, I would be happy if you broke them."
The woman's directness charmed Carol. She decided she had little to lose, and an evening with a cultured woman was certainly preferable to a lonely furnished room.
"I've no plans," she answered, the luscious lips parting in a dazzling smile.
Butterflies fluttered in Charlotte's stomach. "Where can we meet?"
"The big clock near the fountain. It's near-"
"I know where it is," Charlotte said. "Shall we say at seven?"
"Make it seven-thirty. I get out of here at six, and I'll need time."
"Seven-thirty," Charlotte repeated.
Carol smiled and watched the swinging hips of the dark-haired woman as she disappeared into the crowd. She was surprised at herself for having accepted the woman's invitation to dinner. There was something about the woman. Strange, because Carol was only attracted to men. Occasionally, when it was accidental or circumstantial, there had been young girls her age. But that was part of growing up. She decided she hadn't done wrong, accepting the dinner date. As a matter-of-fact, she had an odd feeling it was the first good move she'd made in a long time. She spent the rest of the day looking forward to her date with the lady stranger.
Seven-thirty found Charlotte standing under the big clock, anxiously looking about, still not sure that the girl would keep the date. She glanced again up the street. The beautiful blonde was wearing tight-fitting, white maxi-slacks. A colorful blouse clung to the bouncing breasts.
"Sorry I'm late," Carol apologized. "Community bathroom where I live. Slowed me up just a bit."
Charlotte set the pace, walking eastward.
"I'm glad you came," she said breaking the silence of their walk. "I thought sure at the last minute you might change your mind."
"Why? I've nothing else to do."
Charlotte smiled, surprised with the girl's honesty. "My name is Charlotte Watts," she said.
Carol smiled. "Well you already learned mine."
There was little conversation with dinner. Carol, obviously impressed with the atmosphere of the famous French restaurant glanced about in-between bites enjoying the moment.
"You mentioned community bathroom. Does that mean you're living in a furnished room."
"Yes," Carol answered. "See, I've only just arrived in New Orleans. I'm from Midville, about ninety miles away. I just took off one day and headed here. Until I make some good money, I have to stay in the cheapest place I can find. I found one. Boy, did I," she laughed.
"Your parents-"
"Don't have any. I was living with an aunt. We didn't really get along. So I left."
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen." Carol's glance went to a party of people arriving, then returned to Charlotte. "How old are you?"
"Thirty-five," she answered.
There was no reaction from the girl.
Charlotte was enjoying the dinner, though both had little to say to each other. After a long, awkward silence, the waiter served their coffee and dessert.
"Are you interested in show business?"
Carol frowned. "No."
"Then why are you moonlighting at the club?"
"I need the extra money. The man that runs the Pirate's Haven saw me at Mington's Department Store. He offered me the job. They feature me on Wednesday and Thursday nights and save the good talent for Fridays and Saturdays. I'm not very good, but I get by. With both jobs I make about a hundred a week."
"Plus all the dates you can get," Charlotte smiled cynically.
Carol's blue eyes flashed. "Look. You asked me out. Remember?"
Charlotte felt foolish. "Sorry. I didn't mean to insinuate-"
"Yes you did or you wouldn't have said it. Okay, you want it in a nutshell? I'm broke. When my father and mother were killed in an auto accident there really was little left in the way of money for me. I went to my aunt. I left her because in Midville there is absolutely nothing for a young person. I came here because there's more to offer. I want to go to school, to college. I realize now I better prepare for something or I won't have a great future. It's as simple as that. I don't have the kind of talent for Hollywood, and, besides, things like that never interested me ... the chances there are pretty slim for success. I can only say, with me, it's the only way of trying to find something to hang on to. Maybe I'll know what I really want to do when I get out of college."
"There's nothing wrong with that kind of thinking," Charlotte said.
"Good. Now you're getting a clearer picture, right? I work my butt off at that damn department store, and those two nights a week at the club bring a grand total of twenty-five bucks. I don't hustle, and I don't give it away either. So you see there's no great mystery about me. I want to be a teacher or something ... I'm not a free-loader, and I'm willing to work for what I want. I emphasize the fact I'm not a hooker in case that's why you invited me to dinner."
Concern furrowed Charlotte's brow. "I didn't for one minute think that."
"But you did make a dig about all the dates I can get."
"I'm sorry," Charlotte said. She made a gesture of exasperation, "I keep saying that, don't I?"
"Yeah, you do."
Charlotte hesitated, then asked, "Why did you accept my invitation?"
"Because you seemed lonely."
"Oh," she said, surprised and dismayed that her feelings were showing so clearly.
"I'm not saying I feel sorry for you."
"No, you didn't say that, did you?"
"Look, everybody's lonely."
There was a moment of silence.
"I'm lonely too. So I said yes to your invitation," Carol explained.
"I'm complimented."
Carol brought the coffee cup to her lips, peering over the brim. "You sure don't think much of yourself. And you don't think you're very attractive."
Silence....
"Do you?"
"Do I convey that?"
"In a way." The girl shrugged. "I don't know. You seem unsure, almost scared. You shouldn't be."
Charlotte didn't know what to say. She remained quiet.
"You are attractive, you know."
Charlotte looked away.
"And I know you find me attractive. I know because of the way you look at me," Carol said. "You know, I think you're confused about me. like you don't know if I dig women. I'll level with you. I've been around. I played. I swing."
Charlotte smiled.
Carol smiled back. "There's no problem as far as I'm concerned. But just so long as you know it isn't a nightly occurrence with me. Dig?"
"Yes. I understand."
Carol's lips pulled back in a smile. "So relax. like I said, there's no problem."
"That's all I wanted to hear," Charlotte said. She raised her hand and signaled for the waiter. Then she looked down at Carol's breasts. It wasn't difficult to notice the girl hadn't bothered to wear a bra.
"We'll have a nightcap at my place," Charlotte said.