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An Excerpt From: Wet
and Wilde
© Copyright Tawny
Taylor,
2004.
All Rights Reserved,
Ellora's Cave, Inc.
Another
girl’s night—in hell
If
there was one thing Jane Wilde knew it was that she’d trade her left boob
to avoid another pathetic Saturday night at Diana’s, swapping complaints
about the slim pickin’s in the man department. In
fact, she’d give up both boobs. Her stiff neck and shoulder muscles would
thank her.
She
sure didn’t want to be reminded of how pitiful her love life was at the
moment.
Bucket
of popcorn the size of a small bathtub in one hand, a glass of diet cola, since she was on a diet, in the other, she took
her prescribed seat on the couch. “Please tell me we aren’t watching another
vampire flick. I’m vamped out. And if I didn’t know better,” she paused to
stab at her best friend and confidante, Diana, with a finger, “I’d swear
your teeth have grown at least a quarter inch.”
“Nope.
No vamps today.” Diana gave Jane a toothy grin and scooped up a handful of
popcorn, leaving half of it trailing over Jane’s lap. “It’s mermaids! Splash.”
“Oh
God, spare me.” Jane slid deeper into the super-plush cushions of Diana’s
sky-blue couch.
“It
has Cher in it.
How could it be that bad?” Carmen, Jane’s other best friend, asked as she
rounded the corner from the kitchen, her expression chock-full of wide-eyed
hope. “Have you seen it?”
“It’s
not that movie.” Jane fought back the urge to roll her eyes skyward.
“Although I wouldn’t want to see that one, either. This is the movie with
that blonde—what’s her name?—walking naked around New York. It’s older than I am, and even
lamer. The only good thing about it is Tom Hanks. Couldn’t you find
something better?” She dumped half her cola down her throat, about ready to
hit the harder stuff. If this night was going to be salvaged, she’d need
something with a lot more kick, like tequila. “Why can’t we watch a movie
that has nothing to do with mythological creatures, whether they live in
dungeons or the sea?”
“Because
those creatures are mysterious—sexy!” Diana waggled her eyebrows, her eyes
the size of silver dollars, and punched her. “Have you ever considered the
possibilities?”
“Possibilities?”
Jane shook her head, ignoring Diana’s jab to her shoulder. “Not since I
quit believing in the Easter Bunny.”
Diana
gave her another nudge. “Scoot over and quit being such a grouch.”
Jane
shot Diana an intentionally exaggerated look of admonishment and complied,
giving her just enough room for her skinny ass to fit between the couch arm
and Jane’s admittedly wider one. “Next week, I choose.”
Diana
clucked her tongue and shook her head. “You know the rules, the hostess
picks the movie. And next week it’s Carmen’s turn.”
Carmen
nodded her head.
This
time Jane didn’t bother stopping her eyes from rolling. “And Carmen calls
you from the video store every time.”
“Well,
if you answered your phone occasionally,” Carmen piped in, sounding a touch
defensive, “I’d call you, too.”
“You
both know why I don’t. That man won’t stop calling me, divorce or not. He’s
such a control freak.”
“Maybe
it’s time to change your number,” Diana offered.
Jane
shot up from the couch. Yep, it was definitely time for that drink. She
drained her glass on her way to the kitchen, leaving the other two women to
their discussion about next week’s torture. No doubt it would be some sort
of monster-mermaid-superman flick. If only she had something better to do!
She
stooped down, rummaging through Diana’s eternally well-stocked
refrigerator. The woman kept enough food in there for an army, and ate a
truckload at every meal.
Jane
hated her…kinda.
“Where’re
the wine coolers?” she shouted.
“Carmen’s
polishing off the last one,” Diana answered. “You want me to go to the
store for more?”
Drag!
No alcohol? A movie released before she had filled out her first bra, and
nothing to sweeten the deal. Could this night be any worse? “No, that’s
okay.” She refilled her glass with diet cola and headed back to the living
room.
Both
ladies smiled at her. Smiled like they’d just signed a pact with the devil.
Like they’d just enlisted her in the army. Like they’d just promised her
life in return for…something.
Uh
oh. “What?”
“We
have an idea,” Diana stood and reached for Jane’s arm.
“Yeah,
a really great idea.” Carmen reached for the other arm.
Sandwiched
between two conniving women? That was one place she didn’t want to be. She
tugged but quickly realized they weren’t going to let her go. “What kind of
idea?” She really didn’t want to know.
Carmen
giggled. “Since your birthday’s coming up—”
“It
was last month,” Jane interrupted.
“Even
better!” Diana released her arm and gave her shoulders a sound shove,
knocking her backward onto the couch. “Sit. Shut up. And listen. This is
for your own good.”
Diana
could sure be one bossy bitch! It almost pissed Jane off the way Diana was
literally pushing her around. She prepared to deliver a choice word or two,
but reminded herself of the past six months.
Yep,
after holding Jane up for six months, the least her well-meaning friend had
earned was a license to shove.
Jane
glanced at Carmen, and Carmen gave her a reassuring smile.
“Okay,”
she said on a sigh. “What’s this great idea?”
“For
your birthday, we’d like to give you a wish. A makeover. New clothes, new
attitude on life. What do you say?”
“New
attitude? What’s wrong with the one I have?” She wasn’t sure she liked what
their grand scheme implied. Was she that pitiable? Were her clothes that
outdated?
“Nothing,
really.” Carmen sat on the coffee table. “But we just thought you could use—”
She shrugged. “Something to make you feel better, now that— Well, you know.”
Did
they have to keep mentioning that? “I’m fine—outside of my phone ringing
off the damn hook, and the two people I call my best friends bull-dogging
me into something I don’t want to do.”
Diana
sat on the table and shoved Carmen aside. “You’re making her feel worse.
Let me try.” Diana sighed. “Listen, sweetie. Everyone who goes through a
change in life—good or bad—has to adjust. That goes for you, too. And to
ease that adjustment, it’s good to do something positive, for yourself.”
“Like
get surgery to make myself look like Pamela Anderson?” Jane asked, fighting
a smile.
“Sure!”
Carmen nodded her head.
“Seriously.”
Diana gave Jane a swift smack on the thigh—ouch! “Get with the
program here. Isn’t there anything you have wanted to do for yourself?
Something that’s been nagging at you for a long, long time?”
“I’ve
wanted to get plastic surgery,” Carmen interjected. “I’d love to look like
Pamela—at least from the neck to about here.” She motioned just below her
very flat boobs.
Diana
smiled. “Okay, sweetie.” She gave Carmen’s shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll get
you that surgery when your birthday comes.”
Carmen
grinned, her pink-tinged face getting even redder, clashing with her carrot-hued
hair. “You will! Gosh, that’s mighty nice of you!”
Jane
watched Carmen, all aglow, and thought about the possibilities. Okay, the
idea of having a wish was kind of cool. Something for herself? Something
that would make her feel better? Then, the idea struck her. “I’ve always
wanted to learn how to swim.”
In
an instant, memories of sultry days on the beach with her brothers and
sisters came to mind. Days when they enjoyed the fresh coolness of the sea
while she sat frozen by fear at the shore, willing herself
to take a leap into that terrifying, roiling mass. She couldn’t remember
exactly when that fear had surfaced, vaguely recalled nearly drowning as a
young child. But she sure would like to shake it now.
Diana’s
smile couldn’t get any bigger than it was, and dread slipped down Jane’s
spine.
“Perfect,”
Diana said, slapping her hands on her thighs. “I know the perfect person to
teach you, too. I mean I don’t know him personally, but I know of
him. He’s a world-class swimmer and to-die-for to boot.”
“No
way.” Jane shot to her feet. She was at least twenty pounds overweight, and
the Slim Fast shakes weren’t doing a bit of good. God, she looked terrible
in a swimsuit! Jiggly thighs, an ass that made J-Lo’s
look tiny…
Diana
stopped her before she was completely on her feet and knocked her back on
her ass. “You’re not backing out. Not a chance. I’m calling. I’m scheduling
your class. And I’m taking you, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do
about it.”
Except
not show up.
“And
don’t think you can hide from me.” Diana finished, as if she could read
Jane’s mind. “I will find you, and you will go. If it makes you feel any
better, I’ll take the class with you.”
“Great.
So, when I drown, I can take you down with me.” Jane crossed her arms over
her chest. Granted, Diana had been a lifesaver—literally—recently, but that
didn’t give her the right to force her to do anything. Last time Jane
checked she was over eighteen—by a few years.
Besides,
the idea of standing mostly unclothed next to emaciated Diana was enough to
make her vomit.
CLOSE WINDOW
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