they wouldn’t do with their wives.”
“Like?”
“Mostly oral sex and anal sex. Some were into power fantasies, both giving and receiving and a few were into pain.”
“You mean like whips?”
“I slapped a few men on the ass, but I never did whips because I can’t get pleasure out of that. Heavy pain is such a turn-off for me that I made it clear I wouldn’t play those games. But most other things were as exciting for me as they were for the men I was with.”
“That’s amazing.”
Maggie looked at her watch. “It’s getting late. Get your pocketbook and your credit cards and we’re off to shop.”
Barbara stood up. “I can’t wait.”
Chapter
4
“Now this doesn’t mean I’m going to jump into someone’s bed so fast,” Barbara said under her breath as they walked into the Galleria Mall in White Plains. “You can’t make a silk purse and all that.”
“Let’s first get you dressed and looking like the attractive woman you are,” Maggie said. As they walked, the few shoppers they saw walked around Barbara but seemed unaware that Maggie was there. “You know,” Maggie said, turning to stare at a woman with a stroller who had just missed bumping into her, “I don’t think anyone can see me.”
“But I can see you just fine,” Barbara said.
They walked passed a large clothing store and paused in front of a mirrored section of wall. “I can see us both,” Barbara said as Maggie dodged to avoid a mother pushing a blue-and-white stroller.
“It’s really weird,” Maggie said. “I’m here. I can see me.” She rubbed her arms. “I can feel me, hear me. You can, too. But to judge by the people walking by, I don’t exist.”
“But you do exist,” Barbara said.
“Mommy,” a little girl said as she passed, “why is that woman talking to herself?”
“Let’s go, darling,” the mother said, hustling the tot off. “It’s not nice to talk about…”
As the woman’s voice faded, Maggie said, “We better be careful. People will think you’re nuts.”
As they strolled around the mall, getting the lay of the land, Barbara was careful not to speak to Maggie where anyone might overhear. Together the two women stopped periodically so Maggie could show Barbara outfits and shoes that would fit her new image. With Maggie steering, the two walked toward a hair salon called Expert Tresses. “We really should start with your hair.”
“I like my hair,” Barbara said, reflexively tucking a strand behind her ear. “It’s easy and comfortable.”
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Easy and comfortable. Two of the most awful adjectives I can think of.” She stopped and turned Barbara to face her. She peered at a section of hair just above her right temple. “What’s this? The roots are white here.”
“I was hoping we could overlook that. It’s a white streak. My mother used to call it a witch’s mark.”
“You dye it?”
“My mother started doing that for me when I was a kid. It’s just dyed to match the rest of my hair.”
“It’s sexy as hell. I want you to get someone to style this mop,” Maggie said, staring at Barbara’s soft, medium-brown hair. “And get the dye out of that section.”
“But it’s unlucky and creepy. I won’t.”
“Barbara, baby. It’s unique and beautiful and it looks great. Your mother was a wonderful lady, but in this one instance, she was wrong. Please. Cooperate. Try this.”
“No.”
“Look,” Maggie said, guiding Barbara into a small alcove. “Do this for me and for this project. Let someone do your hair. My way. Then give it one week. If you don’t like it, you can dye it back. Okay? Please. I have a job to do here.”
When Barbara hesitated, Maggie continued. “And get your nails done, too.”
“But…”
Maggie put a hand in the small of Barbara’s back and pushed, aiming her toward Expert Tresses. Since the salon was almost empty, three women walked toward her as she walked in. “May we help you?”
“I need a haircut,” Barbara said.
“You want it styled,” Maggie said, knowing that no one else could hear.
“I want it styled.”
One of the women looked her over. “My name’s Candy and I think you’re mine this morning. Come on over here.” The pink-smocked woman led Barbara to a chair at one side of the studio.
“I have a streak right here,” Barbara said, fingering a section of hair as Candy covered Barbara’s clothes with a plastic apron.
“Yes, I see,” Candy said. “Why do you dye it?”
“It’s a witch’s mark.”
“And it’s so kinky.” Candy lifted a strand of her long blond hair from her temple. “It wouldn’t look as good on me, she said. She returned her attention to Barbara. “But on you…”
“Well…”
As they started to talk about styles, Maggie said, “She sounds like she knows what she’s talking about, so let her do whatever she wants. I’ll be back.” Over her shoulder, she called, “And don’t forget the nails.”
Maggie left the salon and walked purposefully back to the mirrored section of wall. With people unable to see her, Maggie stood staring at herself. Since no one could hear her, she talked aloud to herself. “It’s been six months since I, whatever, and my hair hasn’t grown nor does it need to be colored.” She looked down. “My nails are perfect and I don’t look any older.” She walked close to the mirror and stared at her skin. “No new lines. No signs of age. Nothing.”
“And you won’t age,” a voice she recognized as Angela’s said. “You’ll just continue as you were on the day you died. That’s one of the advantages of an assignment like this.”
“Have you done this kind of thing often?” Maggie asked.
“Not really, but it does happen occasionally,” Lucy said. “How’s it going?”
“Don’t you know?”
“Not really,” Angela said. “We don’t have the time to watch what’s happening. We just drop in from time to time.”
“Could Barbara hear you if she were here?”
“No,” Angela continued. “Only you can hear us,
