by Marie Davis & Margaret J. Hults
Charlotte was made of money—thank God. Ones, tens, fives, fifties, hundreds, Jacksons, Franklins, Washingtons, Lincolns—her body was covered with portraits of little green men. That was a tough row to hoe for a lesbian—having money that is.
Thank God the sex was over. Sex had become drudgery, a chore, maybe just a little bit disgusting? How many times a week would she have to do this to keep her? One thing was for certain over the next few days she was going to be too tired, way too tired. That might be believable and with some luck she could drag out an exhaustion scam for a week or maybe two?
Mickie cuddled up to her green lover. “I love you,” she giggled, and ran her fingers through Charlotte’s George Washington hair.
“I love you too. What would you do without me?” Charlotte’s presidents snuggled up even closer to their constituent.
“Without you? Hmm…” Mickie’s mind immediately wandered in the direction of Rebecca. Funny, beautiful Rebecca with the intoxicating smile, but sadly, she wasn’t green with money. “Oh, without you I’d probably run off with Rebecca.” Mickie replied, pretending she was teasing.
Pretending she was teasing too, Charlotte retorted, “You’d have to go back to work, that woman doesn’t have a pot to piss in.” Green Charlotte was thinking of Susan who had pretty blonde hair and a nice ass. If they were a couple, friends would be envious because they’d look so good together. She could imagine taking that nice ass out for dinners, the theatre, even to the Hampton for the summer season. Susan is a bore, and can’t cook – but I could have her, Charlotte thought.
“Yeah, I’d have to go back to work, I suppose…” Mickie rolled over. She knew all about the women who would love to take her place in a hot minute, her place right next to Charlotte with all those addictive Franklins coursing through her body. Hiding her face, Mickie let her mind play again. I bet Rebecca tastes sweet, warm, and all melty.
Charlotte got out of bed, “What? What did you say?” The green woman turned around, Abe Lincoln breasts loose and bra in hand.
“Huh?” Mickie blushed, wondering if she had been talking out loud.
“Melty? What the hell’s that supposed to mean? If you want that trashy white woman—go for it. There are plenty of girls out there for me. In fact, why don’t you just go?”
Suddenly, Mickie was waiting tables at the Golden Ram. They’d take her back, all she would have to do is ask. She felt the tray on her hand, smelled the coffee and hamburgers made with overused grease. Mickie heard the clatter of plates, drinks sloshing, and the mumble of patrons with their occasional bouts of laughter. Her mouth remembered hustling desserts, to up the bill. Her fingers felt the tips as she picked them up off the table and slipped the cash into her pocket. Mickie imagined doing this for years and years and years. She sat up in bed and said, “Why don’t I go? Is that what you’re asking me Charlotte? Why you would even say something like that? I wasn’t thinking about Rebecca or about anyone else—just you. I was saying how melty you were this morning. I think this was a good, no… a great change and we should have more morning sex.”
Kissing her Charlotte said, “Okay, sweetheart.”