She looks like one of those Suicide Girls with pastel blue hair, tats, hardware and all. She's tiny, but she's got tight muscles... and a huge smile for our Abi here. The woman is adorable, but I'm sure if anyone told her that, she'd tear their face off without blinking.”
I tried to ignore the conversation though I did smile internally at the Suicide Girl comment since I thought the same thing.
Randall reached over and grabbed the television remote, turned off the telly, and announced, “Time to saddle up ladies.” We all stood and Randall made his way out to the garage to gathered our equipment and load it into his vehicle.
We went to Ray's room and started dressing in our matching clubbing gear. Ray was putting on her makeup and I stepped beside her, wringing my hands. She stopped and looked up and cocked an eyebrow in question. I said almost in a whisper, “Can you... can you umm... make me pretty?”
A lot of things flashed across her face and eyes. Anger, concern, then... understanding. “You want to look good for her?” I nodded nervously. She exhaled in a long bluish undulating wave.
Then she placed a hand on my arm then lifted it and started playing with my fabric bracelet with the topaz on its silver ringlet. Then she let go and looked up. “You are already stunning lady. You can see the whole world in a way nobody else can yet you still can't see yourself the way everyone else does.”
She tilted her head and smiled. “You have this whole sassy, cute thing going for you that just makes you shine. You are pretty already, and the only thing you need to look beautiful is to smile.”
I blushed and nervously shifted my weight from side to side as I whispered, “But I want to look sexy... like you.”
She grinned and said, “For her?” I nodded and looked down. She grabbed my chin and raised my eyes to hers. She had a mischievous look on her face as she said, “Again, I don't know how you can't see it. It was obvious to me that she already finds you sexy. You made her nervous and self-conscious and she couldn't stop smiling at you. I bet that woman is never nervous and self-conscious about anything.”
She sat me down and looked at me in the mirror as her brow creased in thought as she absently ran her fingers through my shoulder length hair, fluffing it up. Then she smiled and reached over my shoulder and pulled my glasses off and she swiveled me on the little stool in front of her mirror to face her. I heard her pull out the second stool and she sat.
Her shadow in the lighter glare of the world around her moved from side to side like she was examining me, then she attacked my face with makeup and brushes. When she got to my eyes, I could just barely make out her hands and an eyeliner pencil and some brushes. I sensed her hesitation when she moved to my left eye.
I reached out and my hand collided with her midriff and I lowered it to her lap and patted her knee. “It's just like any other eye. You won't hurt me.”
She wasn't breathing, but I got the impression that she nodded then went about working on it. She started breathing again with ragged purple sandpaper rising up my back, when my eye didn't explode into a thousand shards. I hugged myself knowing how uncomfortable that damn prosthetic made her. I knew I was a freak and it always hurt when I repelled people I cared about.
I was startled by a firm slap to my arms and I let them drop to my sides. “Don't make me do worse woman, get out of your head. I just didn't want to hurt your eye. You tell me how tender the socket is all the time.” I exhaled and nodded, when had I stopped breathing?
She brushed something on my lips and then the world came into focus as she gently slid my glasses back on. She spun me on the swiveling stool and I looked in the mirror and blinked. I looked the same. Well except for the thick black eyeliner and the long black arcs at the outer corners of my eyes that narrowed to razor-sharp ends.
I looked closer.
I tried to ignore the conversation though I did smile internally at the Suicide Girl comment since I thought the same thing.
Randall reached over and grabbed the television remote, turned off the telly, and announced, “Time to saddle up ladies.” We all stood and Randall made his way out to the garage to gathered our equipment and load it into his vehicle.
We went to Ray's room and started dressing in our matching clubbing gear. Ray was putting on her makeup and I stepped beside her, wringing my hands. She stopped and looked up and cocked an eyebrow in question. I said almost in a whisper, “Can you... can you umm... make me pretty?”
A lot of things flashed across her face and eyes. Anger, concern, then... understanding. “You want to look good for her?” I nodded nervously. She exhaled in a long bluish undulating wave.
Then she placed a hand on my arm then lifted it and started playing with my fabric bracelet with the topaz on its silver ringlet. Then she let go and looked up. “You are already stunning lady. You can see the whole world in a way nobody else can yet you still can't see yourself the way everyone else does.”
She tilted her head and smiled. “You have this whole sassy, cute thing going for you that just makes you shine. You are pretty already, and the only thing you need to look beautiful is to smile.”
I blushed and nervously shifted my weight from side to side as I whispered, “But I want to look sexy... like you.”
She grinned and said, “For her?” I nodded and looked down. She grabbed my chin and raised my eyes to hers. She had a mischievous look on her face as she said, “Again, I don't know how you can't see it. It was obvious to me that she already finds you sexy. You made her nervous and self-conscious and she couldn't stop smiling at you. I bet that woman is never nervous and self-conscious about anything.”
She sat me down and looked at me in the mirror as her brow creased in thought as she absently ran her fingers through my shoulder length hair, fluffing it up. Then she smiled and reached over my shoulder and pulled my glasses off and she swiveled me on the little stool in front of her mirror to face her. I heard her pull out the second stool and she sat.
Her shadow in the lighter glare of the world around her moved from side to side like she was examining me, then she attacked my face with makeup and brushes. When she got to my eyes, I could just barely make out her hands and an eyeliner pencil and some brushes. I sensed her hesitation when she moved to my left eye.
I reached out and my hand collided with her midriff and I lowered it to her lap and patted her knee. “It's just like any other eye. You won't hurt me.”
She wasn't breathing, but I got the impression that she nodded then went about working on it. She started breathing again with ragged purple sandpaper rising up my back, when my eye didn't explode into a thousand shards. I hugged myself knowing how uncomfortable that damn prosthetic made her. I knew I was a freak and it always hurt when I repelled people I cared about.
I was startled by a firm slap to my arms and I let them drop to my sides. “Don't make me do worse woman, get out of your head. I just didn't want to hurt your eye. You tell me how tender the socket is all the time.” I exhaled and nodded, when had I stopped breathing?
She brushed something on my lips and then the world came into focus as she gently slid my glasses back on. She spun me on the swiveling stool and I looked in the mirror and blinked. I looked the same. Well except for the thick black eyeliner and the long black arcs at the outer corners of my eyes that narrowed to razor-sharp ends.
I looked closer.
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