Picked Up
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

It was a late model Corvette – electric blue. It pulled over close to the fountain and the passenger window whirred down.

“Are you Jake?” The question seemed wrong, but this was the redhead in the short black skirt and heels. She was examining her long hair and looked up to speak to him.

“Yes, I am. Who are you?” Her voice was incongruous. Masculine but not completely male.

“My name is Omar. Mary couldn’t make it. She sent me around. Hop in.”

Jake paused. It was not the fact that this was a stranger. He was stranded and he needed the lift. This would not be easy. The car was low. The skirt was ridiculously short, and “the stylists” as the bitches called themselves had his package taped down tightly. Could he even get into this car?

Butt in first and swing the legs around. That is what they said. Omar had pushed the door open a little. He dropped into the seat. His shoes were bought around, his little clutch bag on his lap. Yet another task done. “You must have a story to tell,” said Omar. Thankfully he was not laughing.

“It was Mary’s idea. She said I always looked like a slob with my long, oiled braid and wispy black beard. She said she would pay to have me look better presented to go out tonight. I just had to go around to this salon in the mall. And look what they did to me!”

“You look nice,” said Omar. “Real nice.”

“Those bitches took my clothes. Then they gave me a glass of wine with a roofie or something. They ripped every hair off my body. They straightened and dyed my hair!”

“That reddish color suits you,” said Omar. “It looks good with your green eyes”.

Jake looked at his driver in disbelief, but Omar was pulling out and now looking elsewhere. Jake reached up and pulled down the vanity mirror. “My eyes are green. Nobody notices but I guess the eyeliner makes it more obvious.” His eyes did look good with a dark surround.

“You have great legs too,” said Omar.

Jake was suddenly conscious of how naked they felt without hair on his body, and how pale they looked. But this guy was right. Those legs did look good. He spotted through the open toe that his toenails hand been painted red like his top, the same color as his fingernails. Somehow they made the whole thing come together. Mary was right – he never paid much attention to hips appearance, bt this is not what guys are about. Women have more scope.

“Thanks for doing this Pal. You have a really nice car here. Are you driving me to Mary’s place, or my place?” Jake asked.

“We’re going straight to the party,” said Omar.

“Mary won’t want her date looking like this!”

“Mary is going with John,” said Omar. “You’re my date tonight. And you look absolutely perfect to me.”

“You’re kidding!” Jake was in shock. “Did Mary arrange this? That bitch.”

“She said that you were complaining about how easy it is for girls. You told her that girls just have to look good and give a few favors and they can live a life of luxury without any effort or any pressure.”

“I did say that,” admitted Jake. “It’s true don’t you think? You’re a guy.”

“I think it’s the way it ought to be,” said Omar smiling at his passenger. “Men like me live to give women all that they need. Maybe you will find that out?”

“In return for favors? All men want something in return.”

“Not all men get what they want. Some men deserve it, and some don’t. You can give me only what you think I deserve,” he said, changing down a gear and accelerating along the straight road.

“Me?” Jake was trying to work out what was happening here.

“She said that you need to find out how easy it is for girls. Giving you a boyfriend is a head start. That’s me. I promise to look after you, and try to make you happy. What will you do?”

Jake laughed out loud – a male laugh. He stopped himself and turned it into a giggle. “I will massage your ego, of course,” he squeaked.

“Perfect,” said Omar. “And no eying up other guys.”

“There’s only one man that I am girl for,” Jake breathed. He stroked Omar’s arm playfully. He could play this game. He could see out this joke. But Omar’s arm felt like teak. This guy was built. Jake felt suddenly quite weak and vulnerable.

“Can I call you Jacinta,” Omar asked.

“Sure,” she said.

As they drove on she checked the contents of the bag she had been given. A folding hairbrush, Lipstick, mascara, some tissues, and a tampon – clearly a joke item – and a there was no money or any sign of his credit cards.

“I have no money,” she said. “But I guess that I have a boyfriend – right? Like I said – easy for girls.”

Omar smiled. He pulled over beside the large house overlooking the bay and got out to open the door for Jacinta.

“If we see Mary and John maybe you should put you arm around me?” Jacinta suggested. “I just want to push her buttons a bit.”

We both want to push some buttons,” said Omar.

They walked inside. Things were well underway. Jacinta felt curiously confident.

“Jacinta,” she said to the first stranger who approached introducing herself. “This is my friend Omar.” For some reason it felt good to say that too.

“There they are,” said Omar. “Just give them a wave and I will give you a cuddle.” She did as she was told. It was very satisfying. From across the room Mary looked startled, but John was beside her, playing close attention to Mary. It seemed that he was the new man in her life. But Jacinta found herself only mildly annoyed.

“Now that’s done I just don’t want to look at them,” said Jacinta. “Or even run into them.”

“Then we will grab a drink,” suggested Omar. Near the kitchen there was a line of tequila shots. Jacinta downed three.

It seemed like she knew very few people there, but with the alcohol on board she was ready to meet a few. Rather than the liquor working against her feminine pretense it seemed to encourage and improve it. She appeared female, she felt female and so she acted female. It all seemed so much easier that she thought.

“It’s like I told you, Omar,” she said, chinking another shot to his matching glass. “It is just so easy for girls. You just have to look good, and I do.”

“You do,” said Omar.

“Fuck, Mary is coming over. Can you give me another one of those? I really don’t want to talk to her. It will just make me mad. Oh, Mary … hello mwah, mwah.” She air kissed each cheek like Jake had seen her do a thousand times.

“How are you finding your time as a girl,” Mary smirked.

“It just proves everything I said,“ Jacinta trilled. “You find the right man. A man who can let you live a life of luxury without any effort or any pressure.” She gripped Omar’s arm tightly, and for extra impact she looked up at him adoringly, and he looked down at her the same way. But somehow his look for her did not seem an act. Jacinta felt something strange. Perhaps it was unease, perhaps embarrassment, although it did not feel and either.

“Let’s go Baby,” said Omar. “Excuse us, Mary.” When they were down the stairs he added. “Did I do right. You told me that you did not want to be near her, so I brought you down here.”

“You know your way around this place.”

“This is my house,” he said. “This is my bedroom.”

“Whoa,” said Jacinta, suddenly feeling a little uncertain on her feet. “You are not expecting anything from me, are you? You told me it was up to me to give you what I think you deserve. So don’t get any ideas.” She put on a mock frown and playfully punched his arm

“What do I deserve?” Omar grinned at her.

“A kiss maybe?” Her head tilted to one side in a playful manner that seemed to disclose just how much she was enjoying this – how much she loved being a girl.

“Alright,” he said, pulling her into the enormous and opulent room. There was the sound of a party above them, and the view of the bay in front of them.

They kissed.

It was less than five minutes later than Jacinta learned that taking a cock as big as Omar’s would be far from easy, and that is a woman’s burden. But ten minutes after that she discovered that a momentary discomfort was well worth it.

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2020

This comes from my short piece “The Pick Up” inspired by a captioned image from Tiffany.