Larry ran swiftly and silently down the stairs eager to let Precious know about what he’d heard as he listened at Blade’s door. He ran quickly into the kitchen, no-one there. He ran into the dining room, not a soul. She must be in the lounge, nope.
Only one place left …. Her boudoir! He ran back up the stairs he’d just come down and headed up to the top floor of the boarding house where Precious had her private quarters.
He knocked softly on her bedroom door and called out “Precious, are you there?”. No answer. Hmmmm .. where was she? He turned the handle and opened the door slowly. He pushed his head through and called again “Precious!” Still no answer. He swung the door open. The room was empty.
He went further into the room. He heard the door slowly click closed behind him. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn and the only light in the room was coming from the en suite bathroom light. He made his way cautiously over to the huge king-sized bed.
The floor around the bed was strewn with clothes. Precious sure wasn’t known for being tidy! Larry picked up a feather boa and sniffed. He could smell the deep musky perfume Precious liked to wear. He spotted stockings, suspenders, a corset and a pair of red patent stilettos with killer heels. He stood there, thinking for a moment. He looked over at the door then back at the shoes.
“What the hell” he muttered to himself. He slowly slipped his feet into the stilettos as he wrapped the feather boa around his neck. He hobbled over to the big wardrobe stuffed full of ball gowns, slinky little silk numbers and cocktail dresses. He reached for a Chanel cocktail dress and slipped it over his head. He slowly zipped it up.
That felt good. It had been so long! He hadn’t put on a single dress since the old woman had died and he’d run for his life from her swanky New York apartment on Central Park West.
At first, he’d hated living with the old woman and longed to be back in his native Madagascan jungle but as time passed he grew to love this strange lady.
He’d originally been given to her as a Christmas present from her movie director husband and she had even named him after the great man - Larry J Broderick, Jnr. “Honey” she told her husband one night when he’d been complaining about her inability to give her a son “this is the only pitter-patter of tiny feet you are ever gonna hear”.
When Larry Snr died she’d gone off the rails a bit and started drinking and taking prescription painkillers again. She’d often think that Larry was her long-dead sister who’d she started her acting career with back in the 40’s. “Come on, Loretta, let’s do that scene from Streetcar darling” she’d shout as she stumbled up the stairs towards her the sumptuous wardrobe.
She loved to dress him up in her finest gowns and outfits from her old acting days and they’d act out scenes from her favourite movies. He loved to feel the silk and velvet on his fur. The make up, the wigs, everything! He could go from plain old Larry to sexy gorgeous Loretta in moments. Who knew such a thing would make him so happy?
He twirled and turned this way and that to look at himself in the mirror. He sashayed over to the dressing table and selected a long rope of pearls and a pair of clip on diamond earrings. He quickly grabbed a ruby red lipstick and long blonde wig from the table and rushed out of the bedroom door and down the stairs.
Time to get himself - oops sorry I mean herself - he giggled uptown and check out the nightlife! Just like the old days! Watch out Cooperville, Loretta is back in town.......
