Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman

Chapter Eleven: G-Strings and Glimmerous Fops

Ema caught Maya's astonished expression in the mirror and turned to face her look-alike with a friendly smile.

"You must be Maya Fey," she said warmly, extending her hand. "I'm Ema Skye. How nice to finally meet the woman I've heard so much about in the flesh."

Maya shook the other girl's hand, all the while desperately trying to shake the notion that she was in some sort of Sci-Fi, alternative universe, and tried to regain her composure.

"Whatever you've heard, it's lies, all lies!" She joked, returning the smile.

"Oh, I doubt Phoenix would flat out be deceptive, a rarity in his profession, I know," Ema grinned. "But he did fail to mention just lovely you were. The photo I saw in his wallet doesn't do any justice to you at all!"

If Franziska Von Karma insists on maintaining that knowing smirk any longer, or harder, Maya thought in annoyance. Her face is going to become completely frozen that way!

"Thank you, Ema." Maya was touched by the genuine sincerity that radiated off the pretty brunette. "So, you're celebrating your sister's stagette are you? Sounds like fun!"

"We're having a blast, although it'd be really great if Ja Fool pianist took requests. Or at least stopped butchering every song he sings with that frog in a mailbox voice of his! Poor Sinatra is spinning in his grave in protest!"

The two girls giggled, then Maya noticed the pinkish stain on Ema's white lab coat.

"Oh dear, what happened?"

"Ugh!" Ema rolled her beautiful eyes heavenward. "It's so packed out there that I decided to speed things up and order my own drink at the bar, in hopes of more quickly achieving enough of a drunken stupor to drown out the tone-deaf tenor. Just as I was turning around and leaving the bar area, a G-String in each hand..."

Franziska finally spoke, her tone rich with amusement. "You are referring to yet another ridiculously named American cocktail, yes?"

"Of course! I still haven't yet had a chance to get so smashed that I began discarding my actual underwear! Which, scientifically speaking, is the number one way to achieve chafing in the posterior region if worn too long! Anyway, as I turned, this idiotic, clumsy....glimmerous fop of a guy crashed into me, leaving me covered in G-Strings and still devoid of my much yearned-for buzz!"

"The fool!" Franziska huffed. "He would have felt the wrath of my whip for that!"

"He should have at least offered to buy you another round of drinks to replace them," Maya agreed.

"Oh the pretty boy offered of course," Ema said grumpily. "He even had the nerve to try to sweet-talk me after that, and said he could perhaps atone by playing a 'private concert' for me sometime. Apparently he's some wannabe rocker in a boy band. I told him exactly where he could shove his electric guitar and high-tailed it here to attempt to do some laundry on my lab coat."

"Really, a boy band?" Maya asked, never one to pass up the chance to be a star-struck fan girl. "Anyone I've heard of at all?"

"Argh, I dunno, his thick accent made it almost impossible to understand him, especially in that noisy crowd! The Garblers I think? Something stupid like that."

Maya watched as the forensic student scrubbed frantically at the offending spot. "Try blotting first," she suggested. "With a dry paper towel, before you start the soap treatment."

Ema complied, and smiled with relief when it appeared the helpful advice was working. "Thanks so much, Maya! I don't know why I didn't think of that myself. It's mostly gone now."