Next: Later that morning | Previous: It's Dolly's Birthday
It's Dolly's Birthday
Chapter 1
February 14, 2000 - Number 4 The Lane
Dolly rolled languidly across the bed, from her left side to her back, leading with her right shoulder and following with her hips and feet, so that, at one point in the turn, she was twisted in a quarter turn to the right. She opened her eyes and tested the flavor of her own mouth with a repetitive smacking gesture of her lips. One hand sneaked out from under the covers and stretched out beyond her head, fingers spread and pressed against the headboard of the bed, to be followed by the other. Catlike, she arched her back and stretched her muscular legs to their fullest extension, pointing her toes like a dancer.
About that time, she noticed that there was sunlight coming in through the curtains. Given that the bedroom windows faced East and South, this was not entirely unusual, except she was usually up and at 'em before dawn.
And it was a work day.
"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed and sprang from the bed as if launched by a catapult. She was wearing brief pajamas of champagne silk. Her red-gold mane of hair was tousled with sleep, her face puffy, her eyes pale and washed out from a lack of delineating makeup. But none of that diminished what her friends called her terminal cuteness.
She grabbed her discarded clothing from the previous evening, intending to carry it down the hall to the laundry chute, and headed out the door. She had just gotten to the door, which stood slightly ajar, when she nearly collided with Drummond, who was just coming into the room carrying a large wicker bed tray laden with delicious smelling dishes of food. He managed to avoid spilling any by some judicious juggling and fast hand work.
"You rat!" Dolly accused her lover, aiming a half-hearted swiping backhand in his general direction. She missed. "You let me sleep in! I'll be late for work!" She backed up, however, to allow him to enter the bedroom with his burden.
"It's OK," he replied, setting the tray down on top of the TV. He stepped to the closet and took Dolly's robe from its hook. "Now, are you going to eat your breakfast, or go hungry?"
"What? How can it be OK? Last time I was late, Terry read me the riot act."
"Will you just trust me? It's O. K. OK?"
"OK," Dolly pouted. She hated not knowing what was going on. On the other hand, there might be a surprise in the offing. Surprises could be good, she'd learned in her year of life as a "real girl". (Or, as she preferred to style it, "Reel grrl".)
Drummond was holding the robe by the shoulders and apparently inviting her to avail herself of the garment. At that moment, she realized that there was a subtle chill in the room and the robe suddenly sounded like a very good idea. She shrugged into the robe and belted it about her waist. Drummond was standing expectantly by the side of the bed. Dolly half-deliberately misinterpreted his expression.
"Not yet, Lover. I'm all funky. Lemme take a shower, first."
"No, no, no, no. You can't take a shower yet. Your breakfast will get cold."
Suddenly Dolly's nose woke up and she smelled the irresistible aroma of coffee and scrambled eggs and hot bagels. She stepped up to Drummond and stood on tip-toe in front of him to kiss him on the cheek. "You're a sweetie." She jumped onto the bed, landing seated in the middle of it with her legs stretched out in front of her. "FE-E-E-ED ME," she rumbled in a hilarious imitation of Cookie Monster with a cold.
"Gladly," Drummond riposted. Setting the tray over Dolly's legs with a flourish, he began uncovering the dishes and the room instantly filled with the heavenly vapors of a comfort-food breakfast. Where before, there had been mere hints of possibilities, there was now a full-blown symphony of olfactory delights. Dolly rubbed her hands together greedily and picked up a napkin, grinning like a madwoman as she inspected the meal laid out before her.
"I hope you've already eaten..."
"I have."
"... 'Cause there sure won't be enough for you to have any."
"I figured you'd be hungry after all that exercise last night."
"Gaff wye," she chuckled around a mouthful of toasted bagel, "We div ge' i' on avow five tiez, didden we?" She swallowed and giggled. "I said, we got it on about five times, didn't we?" she repeated, interpreting her food-muffled speech. The day before had been Valentine's Eve -- Dolly's first -- and she had been delighted to do her part toward inaugurating a new custom, having to do with marathon sessions of mattress dancing... Dolly's favorite indoor sport. The redhead picked up the other half of the first bagel (there were two on the tray) and began devouring it.
"Slow down," Drummond said, perching on the edge of the bed to watch her. His eyes glistened in the soft morning light from the windows as he gazed at his inamorata. "You'll get a tummy ache. Don't want that, today of all days."
"What's so special about...?" Then she remembered, and as a wide grin spread across her sunny features, he reached out and placed a small velvet box on the tray.
"Happy birthday, Love," he said, and leaned across the tray to capture her lips with his. About a minute into the kiss, she moaned and grabbed the back of his neck with her hand, sucking air through her nose. She leaned into the kiss, then pulled away, trailing her hand across his cheek and down his chest where the hairs grew only in the delta exposed by the open collar of his shirt..
"Thanks, Baby," she husked in her blues-singer's voice, smiling and gazing into his eyes.
"Aren't you going to open it?"
"Nah. I want to just look at it for awhile." She looked up at him again. She was fairly trembling with excitement. "It's really my birthday?"
"It's really your birthday. You are one year old today."
"Well, not exactly..." she began, but he stopped her with an upraised palm.
"Although the State of Ohio believes you are twenty-eight and you have actually spent ten years on this planet -- ten and a half if you count your time as a dolly -- the date that really counts is the date of your 'birth'. One year ago today, you took your Leap and became flesh and blood." He cocked his head to one side.
"And what flesh!" Dolly finished for him with a vulpine grin.
"And what flesh," he agreed. "Now, eat your breakfast. You are going to be pampered today until you can't stand it any more."
"Starting with a shower?" her grin widened at his momentary discomfiture.
"After breakfast, you horny little minx." He laughed at her mock pout and she took up a fork and dug into her meal.