Free Messalina: Devourer of Men by Zetta Brown

aside to let him pass. He smiles at me, grateful to escape out the door. I approach the counter and a tall, slim man with short, dark hair and a pencil-thin moustache. He gives me a friendly smile.
                “How can I help you, ma’am?”
                Oh, thank god, he’s gay. I want to jump for joy and sing the Hallelujah Chorus. I’m going to have fun with this.
    “Hello. I was wondering if you could tell me of a good place to buy some clothes?” I cast a sidelong glance to the woman next to me and then back to the man behind the counter. “I’m afraid I don’t have any with me, you see.”
                The man, whose nametag identifies him as “Sidney,” catches my glance and I detect a sparkle in his eyes. “Well, if it’s shopping you’re interested in, I recommend NorthPark Mall or the Galleria.” He reaches beneath the counter and pulls out a few brochures.
                Despite the normality of his words, Sidney puts enough inflection on them to tell Mrs. Nosey Parker that he and I are on the same page. As I study the brochures, Sidney steps back and puts his finger to his lips in appraisal.
                “From what I can tell, you can definitely wear clothes, so I’m going to suggest you go to the Galleria. It has more selection and it’s a bit younger.” He tosses a look at the old biddy. “If you know what I mean?”
                I did and so did she.
                “James,” the woman snaps at her husband. “Will you just pay the damn bill and let’s go?” She picks up her Coach bag and scuttles out of the lobby, leaving her husband, Sidney, and me looking after her.
                “Shall I call a cab for you, dearie?” Sidney asks.
                “Would you? You’re such a love.”
                He gives me a wink and picks up the phone. I give him a twenty and he is worth every penny.
    Getting into the cab, I tell the driver to go to the Galleria Mall in North Dallas. He deposits me in front of the gigantic, glass atrium mall entrance. Inside, over two hundred stores wait for me and my cash allowance from Jared. 
                I create my first ensemble in Macy’s out of a much more conservative combination of short-cut overalls and a T-shirt. I wear these clothes and put my evening dress in the bag. Then I get some canvas shoes, because the ones I have on are meant for perching, not walking. With those tasks complete, I feel more at ease and buy a pair of pants, a summer dress, a pair of espadrilles, and toiletries. I don’t splurge, but I’m satisfied with my purchases.
    I take another cab and ride from one end of Dallas to the other. I’ve never been here before and keep my face to the window while the cabby gives a running commentary. He drives me to the Deep Ellum area in downtown Dallas where the “cool cats hang out,” he says.
    All I see are a bunch of warehouses and shops that are eclectic in their merchandise, but empty of customers. I say as much.
    “Hey, it’s daylight,” the driver says. “You can’t expect action in this heat.”
    By now I’m hungry and he suggests I eat at Baker’s Ribs on Commerce Street, which turns out to be another worthwhile suggestion. Satisfied with a full tummy, I have a third cabby cruise around town. At the intersection of Greenville Avenue and Lovers Lane, I see a shop I simply must visit: Condoms To Go.
                “Driver, stop!”
                When I return to the hotel it’s nearly four o’clock. Just enough time to build up my energy in preparation for the evening’s festivities. I take a long, cool bath, washing away the humid Texas heat and scenting myself with honeysuckle and rose.
                I have got to relax. But the thought of having real sex—not just fingers, but cock—after such a long dry spell makes me giddy to the point of being sick. Thinking of