Diary of an Ugly Duckling (39 page)
Audra Marks.”
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331
“You mind if things get . . . a little . . . freaky?”
Now Art’s features relaxed again. “I knew you
were the woman for me, Audra Marks.”
Now it was Audra’s turn to grin. “Then do me,
baby. Do me, good.”
“Consider yourself done,” Art replied.
There wasn’t the slightest bit of awkwardness be-
tween them, as though they’d been together a thou-
sand times before and knew each other body and
soul.
“Strip!” Audra commanded, laughing.
“I will, if you will,” he said already rolling down
the waist of her slacks.
“Hey.” Audra smacked him lightly on his broad
cheek. “I didn’t say strip
me
!
“Well, ’scuse me,” he teased back and grabbed at
his own trousers, which immediately puddled
around his ankles. “Better now?”
Audra had barely removed her blouse when he
stood naked and proud before her, posing and
preening like a gigolo earning a paycheck. At Au-
dra’s applause, he grabbed her hands and sat her
down, a naked audience at the edge of the bed, and
adopted a runway strut that seemed incongruent
with his impassive exterior but totally in keeping
with the man she knew in her heart. He struck pose
after pose, some coy, some racy—all showing his to-
tal confidence in his large, masculine body—until
tears of laughter rolled down Audra’s face.
“Your turn,” he growled into her ear.
“Oh please, I’ve had enough runways to last a
lifetime,” Audra protested, but he was already
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Karyn Langhorne
pulling her up off the bed. He pushed her toward
the mirror and stood behind her, his skin dark
against her bright skin. Scars, in various stages of
healing, crisscrossed her naked body. Audra averted
her eyes, the playfulness disappearing from the mo-
ment. “Art . . . don’t . . .”
“Look,” he urged gently.
“I don’t want to—”
“Don’t tell me you’ve gone to all the trouble to re-
make yourself, and you can’t even stand to look at
yourself.”
“Not exactly, it’s just—”
“Then
look
!”
Audra sighed and dragged her eyes to the mirror.
“What do you see?” Art whispered, planting a
kiss along the side of her neck.
“I don’t know . . .” Audra sighed. “I don’t wear
Petra as well as she does. And after finally getting
the truth from my mother, I can’t help but wonder if
I’ve made a mistake.”
“Forget that stuff. Find
you
, Audra. Find some-
thing beautiful.”
Audra stared at herself. Without elaborate
makeup—just a little mascara and lip gloss—she
saw the face of a pretty-enough woman, but one she
still barely recognized with her fair skin and long
hair. But the eyes . . . the lips . . . those were her own.
“My eyes . . .” she said softly.
Art’s arms tightened around her as he turned her
slightly and kissed both of her eyelids in a way that
made warmth stir from Audra’s ears to her crotch.
“What else?” he murmured, his breath a hot rush
of desire.
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“My . . . lips . . .”
And immediately he caught them with his own,
pulling a feeling out of her that left Audra breath-
less. But when she leaned into him for more, he
turned her back to the mirror and continued in a
ragged voice, “Go on.”
But now that she knew that every part she named
would be due for treatment from Art’s lips and
tongue, she closed her eyes and murmured, “My
breasts.”
To her surprise, Art brought her own hands up to
her nipples, guiding her fingers around the curves
of flesh. “Love them,” he told her in that same sexy
whisper that sent another thrill of desire through
her, as he encouraged her timid fingers to stroke the
buds hard while his own hands slid down to her
belly and hips. “What else?” he murmured roughly,
planting kisses along her derriere. “Here?” His big
hands parted her legs, kissing the insides of her
thighs. “Here?” Then his tongue found the softness
of her female center, and with a single flick of it, he
set her completely afire. “Here?” he asked.
“Yes,” Audra muttered, barely able to speak for
the sensations coursing through her body.
“You like your body . . . here . . .” he kissed her
thighs again. “And here?” Another thrust of his
tongue down deep where no surgeon had touched.
“Mmmm,” Audra moaned, knowing she could no
longer withstand the teasing torture of his touch.
“Say it!” he growled, his voice gruff with impa-
tient command. “Say you like it!”
“I like it!” Audra shouted like a new recruit at ba-
sic training. “I like it! Just—just—”
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Karyn Langhorne
She didn’t have to say more. Art let loose a feral
shout and dove his tongue into her, tasting her until
Audra’s legs shuddered, barely able to hold her
weight. She grabbed his head, pressing him deeper
between her thighs, while the mirror recorded pas-
sion and release playing across her face.
“Art . . .” she hissed, breathless and ready. “I need
you . . . inside me . . .”
“Your wish is my command,” he muttered,
pulling her down on the floor beside him and cover-
ing her with himself. Audra spread herself wide and
he plunged deep, so deep Audra reacted, arching
herself to accommodate the size and thickness
of him. He hesitated just a moment, but when Audra
groaned, “Harder, deeper . . .” he grabbed her be-
hind between his two hands and pounded himself
into her with an energy and passion that brought
her to an explosion so complete, Audra forgot
everything but the feeling of the man’s hardness
against her softness. She was no longer a body, but a
soul, in union with a kindred soul.
Art was insatiable. He bent her body in ways she
hadn’t known it would move, bringing waves of fresh
desire with every position, every angle, until at last,
he muttered, “I’m coming . . . I’m . . .” and she felt
him release the last of his energy deep inside her,
while she shuddered against him, accepting his pas-
sion and returning it with a passion all her own.
Audra didn’t remember later how they moved
from the floor to the bed. But she remembered the
feeling of complete satisfaction and the comfort of
their two sweaty, spent bodies, entwined.
DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING
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I love Art Bradshaw
, she thought as his arms slid
around her and she felt his breath on her neck, even
and slow with sleep.
I love Art Bradshaw . . . and he
loves me
.
October 27
Dear Petra,
My Ugly Duckling show airs tonight. I was really
hoping you’d be here to watch it with us. It sucks
that your discharge date has been delayed
again
.
Kiana’s miserable. I don’t know how much more
disappointment she can stand. She really misses you
both.
Art and Penny are coming over, and so is Laine, the
cousin I told you about. Penny is bringing a couple of
girls from her school. In a weird sort of way I’ve
actually helped her make a few friends. Ma has a
couple of her stylists coming, and one or two of her
“special” clients. It should be a regular party. This is
the last episode, so there will be voting for the Top
Three after my “package” airs. I really don’t expect to
make it, but who knows?
DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING
337
I called Shamiyah and asked her about her
promises to Ma, and the whole telephone thing. She
said the phone was disconnected briefly while I was
out of it during the first few days of surgery. I asked her
what to expect on the show and she laughed. She said
“Nothing to do now but wait and see.” Then she
started on how “great” it all was, and how her “career”
is “made” . . .
Somehow none of that made me feel any better. But
then, I have lots of things on my mind.
After the latest incident with Haines at the prison,
I’ve really been thinking. I’d like to do some work with
girls on body image. I was thinking about asking Dr.
Goddard and maybe using some of the show’s
publicity to help me get started. Shamiyah always said
I could be the voice for some of the sisters out there
who have issues. Maybe I really could be. Then it really
would be like
Now, Voyager
wouldn’t it? Remember
how at the end, Bette Davis helps Paul Henreid’s
daughter break out of her shell and discover her
beauty? Well, just call me Bette . . .
Be careful out there,
Audra
“I’m sick and tired of being fat, black and ugly,”
the woman on the TV was saying earnestly on
an obviously inexpert video tape. There was a sort
of loping grin on her face that did little to conceal
her obvious pain. “Just once, I want to be the
woman who everyone looks at, everyone desires.
Just once I’d like to be pursued, sought after. I’d
like to preen around.” The woman in the video
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Karyn Langhorne
assumed an exaggerated strut, but her legs rubbed
together, making a whistling sound that would
have been funny if it weren’t so pathetic. “I’d like
to toss my hair.” She shook the short curls of her
natural. “I’d like to know what it feels like to be a
swan.”
Audra sank a little deeper into her sofa, covering
her face with her hands. The living room of her
mother’s apartment had been lively with conversa-
tion only a few moments before, as the assembled
group prepared for Audra’s television debut. Now
the room had gone deadly silent. Audra didn’t dare
glance around at any of them, didn’t want to see the
pity in their faces. She looked ridiculous up there:
not funny or clever or amusing as she’d always
imagined. Just ridiculous.
“It’s okay,” Art rumbled into her ear, his arm
tightening around her shoulders. “That’s the old
stuff . . . you’re a different person now . . .”
But the
Ugly Duckling
people had chosen to air a
good deal of her original tape, including the embar-
rassing confessions about her pants ripping at the
jail, and the ugly names the inmates called her as
she went about her job. Even Penny Bradshaw’s
words were repeated, but in a voice-over as Audra
emerged from a car and walked alone into the
building that housed the offices of her plastic sur-
geons.
“Wait and see.” That’s what Shamiyah had said.
And now Audra understood. There was no way she
wanted to admit to this. No way she didn’t know
how angry Audra would be.
But was this Shamiyah’s doing?
Audra wondered,
DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING
339
thinking about how she’d complained about the ed-
iting ahead.
Or had she been pressured to change it by
the evil, ratings-hungry Camilla?
She pushed aside her questions and focused on
the next segment and saw herself, seated at the long
conference table, marking up the photographs with
the experts who had become her friends.
But so little of that long afternoon had made the fi-
nal package. In the end, the world saw Dr. Bremmar
drawing purple lines over a hefty Audra’s body, out-
lining procedures, and Dr. Jamison explaining the
process of skin lightening, while Audra appeared to
listen eagerly. But somehow, none of her questions or
reservations about the process had made the final
cut—not even the whole discussion about scarring—
because when the man finished speaking, the cam-
eras quickly cut to her face and the only words that
fell out of her mouth were, “I’m in.”
Several of her mother’s customers groaned in dis-
pleasure. Audra bit back the impulse to shout out,
“There was more! They cut it!” and gripped Art’s
hand even more tightly.
“Do you realize you’d be changing your cultural
identity? That decision will impact how you will be
viewed in the African-American community.
Friends, family—”
“I don’t think I have any friends or family whose
opinion holds much influence,” the Audra on tape
replied, and the Audra in her home living room,
surrounded by friends and family, could have
crawled into a hole and died.
Then Camilla Jejune’s made-for-TV-voice took
over as the camera zoomed tight on Audra’s face.
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Karyn Langhorne
“And so, Audra Marks made the choice to leave
behind fat, black and ugly for a new image: one she
