She's Only thirteen Your Honor, a short story by StevenHunley. Date added: 2010-02-25. Times viewed: 3022.
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- Intro: starlet prepares for Hollywood party
She's Only Thirteen Your Honor
She painted her toenails hot pink and let them dry thoroughly before putting on her mother's black fish-net stockings which she stole from her drawer. She attached them with the black garter belt. She stood before the full length mirror and checked. It showed only bit of her creamy upper thighs when she bent over. That would never do. So she hiked her tight skirt up a bit.
She painted on her matching hot pink lipstick with care, applied her mascara, checked her hair, then snuck into her sister's room to snag her I.D. When she returned to the mirror, she checked the image against the one in the mirror. It was a close match. The eyes of a Polish film director whose lenses were clouded with the twin fogs of alcohol and lust would never notice the discrepancies. So that was O.K.
She then took a bottle of her mother's perfume, sprinkling the last bit of bait on her man-trap.
She looked in the mirror one last time and said to the woman she saw there, "I've waited long, too long. Now I'm finally gonna get me some."
In her mind it was true. She had been thirteen for six days now. Then she grabbed a sweater and ran out the door to a cab.
"Take me to here," she said, handing him the address of Nicholson's house. He dropped her off.
He'd seen her in the rear-view mirror in the backseat. She'd been holding up her arm, ‘till her hand hung from her limp wrist, like the neck of a swan. Like she was offering it or something. He couldn't be sure; it was dark in the back of the cab. But he was sure of what he heard. She must have said it ten times, as if she was memorizing it. It was, "Oh, so you're the famous film director. I didn't know you were here. So happy to meet you, Roman." It was an O.K. performance, certainly not one she'd ever get any headlines for. Not now, not never.
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