Sharing Her Lipstick

Change It Up : Pure Fiction Writer’s Challenge

The music in the club was thumping, I felt its baselines vibrating in my chest and stomach — my very empty stomach, hence the rum and cola going straight to my head. I gripped the edge of the basin and studied my face in the mirror. I looked terrified, and the make up I’d applied earlier did little to hide how pale my nerves rendered me.

“Dora, you slapper, are you having fun?”

My best friend Fearne called to me as she burst out of the cubicle, still fastening the buttons on her playsuit. Then she peered at her reflection and fluffed her hair.

“I look like shit,” she pronounced.

“You don’t, you look stunning!” No word of a lie, she could have fallen out of the pages of a glossy fashion magazine.

It’s a curse to have such a beautiful, confident best friend. I feel so lacking whenever I stand beside her, and if people talk to me, I wonder are they marking time before they can lean across me and begin chatting with her? It’s called being the ‘DUFF’ — designated ugly fat friend. It’s an acronym. I’m actually quite skinny, and while not ugly, I am shy, and certainly not blessed with the looks and charm Fearne has in abundance.

We’ve been friends for about four years, through our GCSEs and A levels. We were having a final hurrah before going our separate ways, me to university and Fearne staying home, but starting a training scheme with a retailer whose flagship stores were in major cities around the UK.

She paused in her primping to give me an appraising glance.

“Undo a couple of buttons, Dora, flash some cleavage.”

I did as she suggested, but could still feel her looking.

“Your bum looks great, you still going to the gym?”

“Yeah, lunges and squats are my secret weapon,” I replied, then flushed.

“That blush suits you, hon,” she encouraged me, “let’s add a little bronzer.”

Fearne turned me to face her and whipped a big brush from her makeup purse, loading it with powder, she dusted my cheeks and forehead, giving me a subtle glow. She added some to my decolletage, sweeping the tickling brush between my breasts with a wink.

“Try my lippy Dora, it’ll suit you.”

I obediently held my lips still and slightly open, while she coated them with the pearly mocha sheen of her lipstick. I felt breathless standing so close to her. Our breasts brushed gently together, the floral and cinnamon notes of her perfume invading my senses, forever branding themselves on my memory of this moment.

“Rub!” Fearne commanded, and I pressed and rubbed my lips together. “Blot,” she instructed, plucking a tissue and passing it to me. “Voila!”

When she turned me to look in the mirror, I was transformed. Of course only by lipstick and powder, but it was as if she’d sprinkled me with pixie dust, made me into a better version of myself. I felt perked up and more confident than before.

“C’mon, the night is young and so are we,” Fearne trilled.

Some of her excitement fizzed through me, as she led us into the gloom of the club, the crush of the dance floor and the press of young bodies intent on having a good time.

Fearne loved to dance, so I joined her on the dance floor and began to sway, hips swinging and shoulders moving in time with the song. I was vibing with the music they were playing, its rhythms and beats became a pulse within me, driving me to express myself by throwing shapes and gyrating in time. My exuberance surprised me, this was how I danced alone in my room, yet suddenly I was able to shrug off the muted, shy version of myself and open my body to the full effect of the music.

Fearne mirrored some of my moves, bumping our hips or dancing back to back with me. Gradually people gave us space, stepping back to watch us dance. I felt so high, a bubble of pleasure swelled in my throat, my happiness was like I’d swallowed a rainbow. We grinned at each other and kept dancing, not wanting to break the spell.

Finally I couldn’t dance another step without rehydrating. The hair at the nape of my neck was damp, so I motioned ‘drinking’ to Fearne and we wove between the crowd towards the bar.

“Girl, you’ve got the moves tonight!” she called, close to my ear.

I felt a silly surge of pride, but had to admit I’d had fun. I ordered a bottle of water and we passed it back and forth until we felt a bit more human.

“Let me get you girls a proper drink,” said a deep voice beside me.

I looked at its owner, who was tall and dark, his hair was thick and glossy and his understated clothes were classy.

“Vodka tonic,” Fearne leaned past me to reply, which snapped me out of my daze.

“Bacardi and cola,” I answered, then he flashed me a smile, and endeavoured to catch the barman’s attention.

“I’m Alex,” he told us, “you looked good out there.”

His smile seemed genuine and I returned it.

“Do you like to dance?”

“Yes,” Fearne answered, at the same time as I said, “No.”

Alex looked at me in surprise, “No? But you looked so natural.”

“Well tonight I enjoyed it, but … usually I can’t relax.”

“We’re celebrating!” Fearne supplied, “just got our exam results.”

He raised an eyebrow, “so you both did well?”

“Yes, we got what we wanted to take the next steps.”

Fearne did most of the talking, as usual, but Alex seemed to focus on me, considering my answers and my opinions carefully. Normally this would make me shrink, but today I blossomed from the attention.

“I love this track,” Fearne grabbed my hand, twining her fingers with mine. “Dance with me?”

I looked at Alex, who just smiled and made a “shoo” gesture, so I allowed myself to be swept along with my friend’s enthusiasm. Soon we were spinning and stepping, swaying and undulating to the beat of the music that swirled around us.

“He likes you!”

Fearne spoke close to my ear, so I’d hear her over the song that was playing. Her warm breath against my skin, sent ripples of pleasure through my body.

“So what?” I shrugged.

“Don’t you fancy him? Would you kiss him?” Her eyes danced, alight with anticipation.

I kept dancing, but pulled her close, “I’d kiss you,” I say, on a sigh.

Then I held my breath, concerned that I’d gone too far?

I didn’t know it til tonight, but it suddenly became crystal clear. I wanted Fearne, and it was such a relief to understand myself. Even if she didn’t feel the same way, if I was returned to the friend zone, I needed to share my feelings. If she didn’t feel the same, then I could probably spin this as a drunken moment where I didn’t know what I was saying. Perhaps our friendship would survive.

Fearne’s eyes met mine, their steel blue gaze boring into me so that I couldn’t look away. It was as if something inside us connected, wordlessly. Her hands came up to my face, cupping my cheeks on either side; not in a controlling way. Rather she emphasised her intention, as she lowered her pearly, mocha lips onto mine.

The rest of the world spun away from us then, the music, the dance floor, anyone who was watching, I didn’t care. My perception had narrowed down to the pressure of her soft lips on my open ones, her warm tongue brushing its sweetness along mine while the curves of her beautiful body moulded against me. We fit together, this was meant to be, Fearne and me.

Submitted for the Pure Fiction summer challenge suggested by JA Vassili & KL Simmons & tagging May More joan rowell & Jonathon Sawyer to consider participating

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