picture prompt I

this is the first of the stories i wrote for “if you give a girl a pen…”
on Tuesdays, my friend Sarah was posting ‘Tuesday storybook picture.’
she would put up a picture, and writers would comment with their story, the only rules being that it must be pg-13, and that you can’t read others’ stories before you post your own.

everyone else wrote something entirely different for this one, as my only internet connection at the time was on my g1 (the google phone), and i only saw one of the like ten flashing pictures. the picture that froze on my screen was the one of the eye with pink eyeshadow and a ton of mascara….

so anyway, this is the picture, and underneath that is what the picture made me think of and write about….




I felt like a complete fraud. The truth is that I was, but I couldn’t let on.

My face was caked in unfamiliar makeup and my name was supposedly Amber––or was it Jade?
Crap. Which is it? Jade. Yes. Jade for sure.

You’d think doing these undercover stings time and time again, I’d be used to them.
Well, not this time.
This time was different.

I had to be so unlike myself. It was one thing to be a cop, but quite another to be an actress.
The drug stuff I could handle. Easy enough – act laid back, learn the people and the lingo. Cake.

This hooker thing…I don’t know..

I already mentioned the makeup, which made me uncomfortable as hell. Pink and purple 1980’s shadows with so much mascara I could catch a fly if I shut my eye at the right time. The absolute worst part was the fishnets. They were completely riding up my ass, along with this damned g-string, but I couldn’t fix them, for fear of ripping them to shreds.

Yeah, I was a hooker (for the night), but I still had some standards. Right….
Again. Fraud.

My job was to meet this John in room 513 of the Old Towne Motel. Creative name. It was as nasty as it sounds. I still had twenty minutes. I guess I’d bide my time smoking.
I’m not a smoker, but I figured if I at least pretended, and therefore reeked of smoke, the John would find me more believable.

How did I end up in this situation?? Female cops always get the short end of the stick. I was as tough as any male, but they’d never let me prove it.
Advice––don’t choose a man’s profession. You’ll never get ahead.

I’m getting a bit off track, but so what. All I’m doing is waiting. Maybe he’ll be so damned horny he’ll show up early.

I should reapply my lipstick. I’ve noticed it’s slowly disappearing. It’s being reapplied to the cigarette filters.
Yep, I reach in my fancy pleather purse full of all kinds of sex toys and other goodies––a girl scout’s gotta be prepared, right?!?!! K, I found it. Ooh, nice and shimmery. Fabulous shade of pink. Looks like my grandmother’s. In fact, maybe it is. Is this one of the ones she pawned off on me, thinking I’d actually wear it? Well, if so, she was right. I don’t think this is what she had in mind, though.

Oh, wait a minute. I think I see him. I’m gonna pull out my phone and check the email with his picture attached. Yep. It’s him.

One final check for my wires––hope they’re working fine tonight. Don’t wanna end up in the morning paper….
I think everything’s set.

Please cross your fingers for this fraud. I’m headed over to make him the deal of a lifetime.
Man, I need a new job.

By Eden on 03.24.09 10:40 pm |


**ETA 7.12.09 — I revisited this story today because I’m doing something else with it. As it was a quick exercise, I did no editing at the time. Wow! Normally I’m not that horrible with staying in the correct tense. Granted, I’m not that great with first person POV, but still.
This thing has massive errors. When I’m done, I’ll post the revision so y’all can see the difference. It’s huge!!**