Down in the Zero

'Get dressed, bitch. I want to get going.'

She turned away, dropped the towel. I walked out of the room, heading for the greenhouse.

It was peaceful in there. The walls were lined with shelves, all kinds of plants. One shelf was a neat row of bonsai. Orchids were bunched in a corner, standing under a gentle mist from some kind of machine. I was fingering a big green plant loaded with small, hard buds, not quite ready to burst.

'What's your favorite?' Fancy's voice behind me.

'Favorite what?'

'Plant. What kind of plants do you like?'

'Blossoms,' I told her. 'Any kind of blossoms.'

'Yeah …' she mused. Then she stepped between me and the plants. 'How do I look?' she demanded.

'You look great, Fancy.'

'You want some coffee?'

'No thanks.'

'A drink?'

'No.'

'Well, are we ready to go?'

'Just about. Let me look over my notes for a minute.'

I walked back to the front room, sat down. She sat across from me, knees close together, hands in her lap.

'How's Randy doing?' she finally asked.

I looked up. 'Seems like he's doing real good. Had himself a date last night. I think he took her dancing.'

'Oh, he's a good dancer. I made him dance with me once, at a party Cherry gave.

'Yeah, he's got it all over me there.'

I wonder why I never met a woman who couldn't dance. Maybe it's genetic.

'What do you mean? You can't dance?'

'Not me. The only dance I ever learned when I was a kid was the Y dance.'

'What's the Y dance? I never heard of it.'

'Stand up— I'll show you.'

She came over to me, stepping naturally against my chest, both hands going around my neck. I put my left hand around the back of her shoulder, dropped the other to her butt, pressed her hard against me. 'Why dance?' I asked her.

Fancy giggled, rubbing against me.

'Hey, don't you think you should put on a bra if we're going out?'

'You didn't tell me to.'

'What?'

'You didn't tell me to…just the dress and the blouse.'

'Jesus Christ. All right, go put on some underwear.'

'Come on, show me. I've got lots of stuff.'

She did. 'Aren't these uncomfortable?' I asked her, holding up a pair of black leather panties.

'No, they're good. They make you sweat when you work. Then I make the client put them in his mouth…like a gag,' she said, gray eyes mocking.

I found a modest underwear set, pristine white. 'This,' I said. 'Can I wear a garter belt…please?' she asked, taking off the bolero jacket.

'Sure.'

We took the Lexus. When Fancy said we were getting close, I turned slightly in my seat, making sure I had her attention.

'Listen to me, girl. You want orders, you got them. Here's one: I'm not calling you 'bitch' in front of people I'm trying to work, understand? What you're gonna do, you're gonna act like yourself— a smart, pushy rich girl. You're gonna use your head. I'm gonna be polite to you. You watch what I do, take your cues. Got it?'

'Yes sir.'

'Don't be cute, Fancy.'

'I won't.'

The house was made up to look like a Cape Cod fisherman's cottage, but it was big enough to hold a convention. Set in the middle of what looked like an orchard, it was all weathered shingles and atmosphere, one wall nearly covered with ivy.