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Blue Moon 7.3

by Donna Lamb

"I think you should wear the red one," said Richard. "Your natural hair color is red."

"Not that red," Jo objected. "And that's w-way too much hair." The fiery red wig had tresses that would almost reach her waist. "I'd trip over it or something. I like the short one."

"But that platinum color looks so fake," said Richard. "The other blonde would look better on you."

Jo sighed. The shoulder-length, curly, golden blonde wig did look the most natural. "Okay, okay. But, I really don't know how to p-put it on, so -- you know? -- it won't come off at the wrong time."

Richard picked the wig off the stand. "If it's made for you, it will fit well enough not to worry about that. Hey! I think this one is real hair." He handed it to Jo. "Now I read somewhere that you put it on the way a baseball player puts on his cap, front to back. See? There are tabs in the back to pull the band down with."

"I never saw a b-ballplayer p-p-put on a w-wig like that."

"Not a wig, a ball cap. And that's the way all the pros do it, out in the outfield. They send them to the minors to learn how," he said, keeping a straight face.

She stared at him for a moment, then at the wig, sighed and turned to the mirror. Putting her head down, she pulled the wig on, front to back then tossed her head to get the loose strands out of her face. A glamorous blonde with tousled hair looked back at her from the mirror.

"Take off your glasses and put them back on," Richard suggested.

Realizing what he meant, she did so, adjusting the fit of the wig around her ears. "Shoot!" she exclaimed. "When did my ears get p-p-pierced?" She felt of the holes with a finger, turning her head side to side.

Richard leaned close to look. "Sonoffa? I know they weren't pierced earlier, we both looked."

Jo took a deep breath, having Richard so close disturbed her in several non-linear ways. "I'm still changing? W-what else has happened?"

"Your tits look bigger," said Richard.

"It's just the way the shirt f-fits," said Jo, momentarily crossing her arms over her chest.

"You're wearing a bra?"

"Uh, yes." She blushed. "How could you tell?"

"That shirt is pretty translucent, I can see itty-bitty yellow roses." And I can't see your nipples, you naughty girl. He grinned.

"Darn it! Get away from me!" She uncrossed her arms and grabbed a brush from the vanity to mess with her hair.

Richard watched her fluff and arrange locks as if she'd been doing it for years.

"You're m-making me nervous," she complained, putting the brush down.

"It's a padded bra, isn't it?"

"Yes! M-most of mine are, that aren't like b-barely there at all. I've got like sixty of them." She pushed at him with both hands; his chest felt amazingly solid under her hands.

He yielded, stepping away. "Sixty bras? Maybe you have a fetish. Wanna try some make-up? Just a little lipstick, huh?"

Jo sighed. When he stepped back, she'd had to resist following him. Can I really smell him and does he really smell that good? "Huh?" she said.

"Lipstick," he repeated. "You need a bit, for some color in your face."

"Have you seen how m-many lipsticks I've got? It's like a giant Crayola b-box, I wouldn't know which one to p-p-pick."

"Another fetish, you're a kinky girl. Look in your purse, I bet you keep your favorite there." He snatched the big straw bag off the bed and passed it to her. It had a huge yellow, white and green daisy on one side, orange, yellow and blue on the other.

"I don't have a f-f-f...." She grabbed the purse and plunged her hand into it, coming up immediately with a gleaming golden tube. Opening it she twisted the color up to get a look. "I don't know how to do this," she said.

"Just try it," he said. "And oh, I think I found some of the photos you may have sent to that agent." That ought to distract her from thinking about how to put on lipstick.

She hesitated.

"Just put it on like chapstick," he said. He waited till she began her motion. "You look really good in a bikini," he said.

She put the lipstick on in three quick movements, blotted with a tissue from the vanity, and reapplied, looking in the mirror while she thought about things to hit Richard with. The brush still lay at hand but the purse was bigger and heavier. The rosy-coral lipstick went well with her hair, skin and eyes. "You're teasing m-me."

"I'm teasing you?" Richard said. "That's just so unfair."

She couldn't help it, she giggled. "P-poor Richard. It m-must b-be hard f-f-for you." Then she giggled twice as much when she realized what she'd said.

"You have no idea," Richard said with a cartoonish moan.

"Stop it!" said Jo. "What time is it? Do we have to go? Can I see these photos?" She dropped the lipstick into her bag and retrieved a tiny bottle. Still without thinking about it, she sprayed her wrists then wiped each wrist on her neck behind her ears in an essentially awkward but very feminine gesture, patting and fluffing her hair slightly at the same time.

Richard stared.

Jo started to put the spray bottle back. "What?" she asked.

"Is that Mille-something?"

Jo looked at the bottle and did a very cute double take. "Mille et Un Fleurs, it says. Did I just use this? How did you know what it w-was?"

"Fucking Barry," said Richard. He looked disgusted.

Jo dropped the little bottle back into her purse. "I hope the f-f-fuck not," she said.