Bits And Pieces

"Chanel No. 5"

     Believe me I've shrugged off a lot of things my fair haired room-mate Linda Grayson did because they more or less never upset my own private apple cart.  But when she started a lend-lease act around my boyfriend the fireworks really started.  

     She could borrow my clothes, borrow a spot of cash now and then, even borrow my lipstick--but when it comes to Johnny Towers uh--huh!  A girl has to draw the line someplace especially when Linda usually borrowed for keeps.  You've got to know that gal.  You've got to see her in action;  you've got to live with her to decide whether she's just plain innocent and beautiful to boot, or a spitting rattlesnake.

     For almost a year I'd been saving my dancing feet and wearing a shine on the posterior of my blue serge suit as switchboard operator at Continental Broadcasting Company, Chicago office.  I'd blown into the big town with one idea--to make my tapping feet be the means of getting my name up in lights in a real honest to gosh musical.  Now---well, Mrs. John Towers sounds like the only career into which I'd like to plant my number 5A wedgies.

     I had a room of sorts at The House of Lords--honest that's the name of the box like establishment I try not to call home.  And I had Linda.

     Now there was a female so darn beautiful she had every other gal hating her almost on sight.  Especially if there were males present.  Linda had that natural, and I'll swear to it, genuine platinum colored hair, dark eyebrows and pansy blue eyes fringed with good half-inch black lashes, also real--darn it.

     She was blessed with a figure that dipped and curved in exactly the right places.  I suppose I should have mistrusted Linda right the minute Mrs. Lord introduced us.  But gosh she acted so helpless and gave me that "all alone in the big city from Flat Bucket,  Arkansas"  line.  So I got all big sisterly and fell over myself being helpful.

     I didn't even realize she'd pushed aside my small handful of clothes hanging in the closet.  In fact she'd buried them at the far end, while she slid several suits that had me drooling over their flower petal colors in their place.  She put good looking dresses on my padded and scented hangers too.  The ones I'd been saving until I felt I had something worthwhile to hang on such elegance.

     "Jean..." she was ready to ask another question I wouldn't have the chance to answer.  "I'm so darn tall, and don't you agree it would be better, well, you're so short--" she continued looking down on my five-foot-one-inch.  "So I'll take the top three drawers for all my old junk and you can have the bottom ones."  

     She failed to mention I could have the bottom two drawers and one was just an inch above the floor.  And boy that's way down even to a shorty like me.

     But darn my hide if I didn't find myself doing just as Linda asked.

     "Is this the guy?" Linda questioned picking up a kinda flattering picture of Johnny from the dresser.

     "Sure is," I answered feeling proud of the black haired, dark eyed fellow in the picture.  In fact I got carried away and told Linda about how Johnny was one of the youngest guys in television advertising and was super clever.  This time I knew for certain Linda was listening and suddenly I didn't like it.

     Well after a week or so my roommate had gotten palsy with most of the girls in the house.  Guess we were all stunned to have such glamour in our midst.  She'd borrowed my best pair of nylons, the ones with arrows laddering up the heels--they were too long for me but still my best pair.  My nail polish, my entire bottle of  "Flame of the Soul" perfume--I discovered she used it in the bathtub just like bath salts.

     Linda had a way of getting the girls talking and then just fading out and listening.  Heck before you knew it you'd divulged every intimate detail of your entire life.