Third Girl from the Left by Martha Southgate Page B

“Thank you, ladies. Very nice. Very realistic,” he said. He shifted from foot to foot. “Next scene in fifteen.”
    Someone brought Pam a robe, but no one brought anything for Angela. She stood, nearly naked and starting to be cold for a minute before Pam turned to her and said, “Nice work. Hope we work together again soon.” Then she went off, her robe drawn around her shoulders. She stopped to bum a cigarette from the cameraman. She suddenly looked a lot smaller. Angela shivered and drew her arms across her breasts. She went back to her holding area. Shimmied out of what was left of her dress and handed it to the wardrobe lady, who took it with a disdainful sigh. She skinned back into her street clothes without a word to her fellow actresses, took off the long, cascading, and now tangled wig. Unbraided her hair and picked it out. Used the communal jar of Pond’s to clean the heavy make-up from her face. Changed back into her regular self. But she felt a little thrill when she thought of what it felt like to scream that line and then rip Pam Grier’s dress off. Hot. That’s how she felt. She felt hot.
    She was still feeling that way when she pulled up to the bar where she’d arranged to meet Sheila. They were going to have a drink to celebrate. Her legs were long and perfect. She was smiling a little bit. Everyone turned to look at her as she walked into the bar. It was like they could smell her high. She saw Sheila and took the stool next to her.
    â€œHey girl, how you doin’?”
    â€œI’m good. You look happy. It went good?”
    Angela ordered a gin and tonic and then said, “Sheil, it was unbelievable. We were all screaming and rolling around and tearing each other’s dresses.” She paused and laughed into her drink. “I loved it.”
    Sheila grinned too. “What was your favorite part?”
    â€œTearing her dress off. Or maybe when she tore mine. I felt so crazy.” She paused, sipped her drink. “It kind of made me feel like making love to somebody. All naked like that.”
    â€œDid it?” said Sheila, her eyes steady over the rim of the glass.
    â€œYeah. Maybe even two somebodies. I don’t know. I just feel like I could do anything tonight.”
    â€œWell, let’s see,” said Sheila, grinning. She looked around the bar. “Have another drink first.” So they did. Then one more for courage and a little trip to the bathroom for just one little toot.
    After that, Angela was racing. She could hardly keep her own hands off of her breasts or away from the damp, comfortable space between her legs. She threw one leg over Sheila’s—it was dark, no one would see, and leaned in, close. “I wish you could have been there to see it.”
    Sheila leaned in so close that Angela could feel her breath on her ear. “I wish I could have too.” Angela stayed on the seat somehow, but Sheila’s voice went all through her, settling somewhere between her legs and her stomach. She turned, brushing her lips across her friend’s cheek and said, “Let’s get out of here.”
    They drove home, kissing at every stoplight, too high to worry what people pulled up next to them might think. They fell on each other as soon as they were through the door, little agonized cries escaping them, not even taking the time to lock the door. Angela didn’t think about Rafe. She was utterly consumed by Sheila’s hands on her, Sheila’s tongue in her mouth, Sheila’s breath in her ear. When they were done, they lay on the carpet by the door, spent and laughing. They both jumped about a foot in the air when the doorbell rang.
    â€œWho the hell is that?” said Sheila.
    â€œHow would I know? Let me go see.” She was feeling so loose and hot and cheerful that she barely buttoned up her dress and didn’t put on shoes or anything. She looked like a woman who’d just been fucking