The Assistant (Lesbian Story) ON HOLD

Tipsy

"Men are fucking pigs," Margot says as she drags you out of the club. Her balance seems a little off as she walks. You figure it's because she has had a few drinks and is wearing heels.

You don't saying anything even though you agree full heartedly. Ever since you have come to New York, you have been catcalled a few times a week. It has made you feel unsafe being anywhere outside your apartment alone.

You let her pull you away taking notice of how warm her hand is from being in that heated club with so many people. 

Once you're both out of the club and in the fresh air of the dark New York night, you take a deep breath, taking notice to the way your lungs fill up and how goosebumps start to appear on your skin. 

 You feel Margot's grip on you disappear.

She's silent beside you. You look over slowly to find her hazel eyes peering at you.

"You have soft lips," she states, completely catching you off guard.

A hint of a smile starts to spread on your lips before you can help it, "Yeah, I-ah use chapstick all the time."

You want to mentally face palm for that line. Out off all the things you could have said, that was what came out. You could have told her that her lips felt really soft too or that you want them against yours again-wait what? You shake off the thought as you hear a giggle.

Margot has a lazy smile on her face from your comment, "I could taste it, I like it."

Once more, you're caught off guard. Is she flirting with you? In the short time span that you have known her, you never once got the idea that she might like girls. 

"Are you drunk?" you ask. That's the only plausible explanation you can come up with.

The smile remains on her face as she says, "Just a little tipsy." 

Seeing her act so carefree with you makes you make smile. You definitely preferred this version of Margot than to the strict office one that was always on her phone and not very talkative. 

"I want ice cream," she blurts out randomly, her a voice a few octaves higher than normal.

You giggle, drunk Margot is going to be quite the entertainment.

 You nod your head, "Okay, I don't know the city like you do, so where's the best place to get ice cream?"

"Umm," her face scrunches up in thought as she puts a finger to her soft lips. In that instant, she reminds you of a little kid. Not that she was immature, but that she seemed so innocent.

Her eyes light up and she takes her finger away from her mouth, "I know where to go! Call a cab!"

"What about your driver?" You ask, looking around for the limo that dropped you off earlier but not finding it.

"He left. I don't want him to come back anyways, I want to take a cab like a real New Yorker," she stated as she crossed her arms.

"Alright, let's go try to find one."

You were surprised that there were still a few cabs out at this time of the night. 

Five minutes later, Margot is leaning her head on your shoulder as you both sit in the backseat of a yellow cab.

Margot had told the driver the name of the ice cream shop and he instantly knew where to go.

The ride was silent but every once in a while you'd catch the driver looking back at Margot through the rearview mirror. 

A chill starts to creep up your spin as you stop at a red light and he turns around in his seat. His eyes land on Margot.

"You look familiar," he says with a deep accent you assume might be Greek.

Margot only smiles, "I get that a lot."

The bad feeling dissipates as you realize he might recognize her from magazines or some commercial.

"You're that model," he says, his eyes widen in recognition, "Cara Delevingne!"

Margot let out a chuckle, "You caught me."

You suppress a chuckle of your own as you wonder how the man could get the two confused. Cara's blonde hair and greenish-blue eyes did not look similar to Margot's dark luscious hair and captivating hazel eyes.

He turned back once the car behind us honked signaling the light had changed, "You are very pretty."

"Thank you," she replies.

You nudge her a little and whisper, "Ms. Delevingne huh?"

She turns to you slightly with her head still on your shoulder making you only a few inches apart. You can feel her breath hit your face and can smell the scent of alcohol. 

"I guess so, I'm tired of being Margot Alfano anyways," she admits.

You knew she wouldn't be telling you this if she wasn't drunk. You aren't sure what exactly she meant by that, but you know that you are seeing the real Margot. Not the one that poses behind cameras and wears expensive clothing but the Margot that will kiss you in a club to get creepy men to leave you alone. All of a sudden you feel a need inside you to get to know more of the real Margot Alfano.

"Well, Ms. Alfano, I'll make sure you have fun tonight being Cara."

******

Wow, I am so sorry for not updating. I put off writing so I could focus on finishing strong in my senior year of high school and 4 days after graduating, my best friend died in a car wreck. I missed writing so much so hopefully nothing else will distract me from writing. Thank you so much!