The Comedienne

Claire, James, and the couple on the table are all looking at me, leaning in. Hanging on my every word. I pause, letting the tension build for just a fraction of a second longer, and smile.

"My dad stops, puts down his knife and fork, looks up at Johnny, and says, loudly enough for the whole restaurant to hear, JESUS CHRIST JOHNNY, CAN'T YOU SEE I'VE GOT COMPANY?!"

I pause. Claire, James, the other couple all burst out into laughter, but I wave my hands emphatically at them and they rein in their reactions to listen.

"The whole room was stunned. Nobody there was laughing. Not at first. They're all looking at Johnny, worried that he'd be insulted, when all of a sudden he collapses in laughter. It was like he gave the rest of the room permission to laugh then, because every other table started cracking up. My dad breathed another huge sigh of relief. Then, ten minutes later, Johnny's heavies came over, picked up my dad and physically threw him out. He never saw the girl again, went home and, as he said, made love to his pillow. Johnny had to have the last laugh."

James wiped a tear of laughter from his eyes, and Claire was practically in hysterics. It almost made up for my performance earlier. Almost.

"Oh my god," James laughed. "I've watched clips of Johnny and your dad each telling that story. I've even read it in his book, but this? It's so much funnier with you telling the story." As soon as he finished speaking he started laughing to himself again, which set Claire off.

I, as cool as a cucumber, picked up my JD and coke and took a long sip while waiting, like the pro I wished I was, for their laughter to subside.

The couple at the next table grinned at us, and the guy said, "You should be up on that stage."

I was glad neither James nor Claire heard, but they were both laughing too hard. I just smiled and nodded and the man resumed his attempts to bed his date.

"I loved your dad's act, but there is no way he'd get away with his jokes now," James said finally. "The snowflakes would shut him down. I figured that was why you stayed away from the insult comedy."

"You know, I never really saw the side that his fans did." I took a breath, wondering whether to head onto the controversial ground. I was never one to avoid confrontation. "I think he'd be okay today. Dad was never mean or cruel to people. It was always done with love and there was never just one target. He loved everybody, he just couldn't resist mocking them too. I'm not saying his act would be word for word the same now. He'd move with the times, but the core would be the same."

James was hanging on my every word. Claire too, in her own way, though she was also watching James and smiling at how he was watching me. I wished Claire was still within kicking distance.

"What's different now," I added, "is the opportunity to practice. My dad was in his late thirties by the time he made it big, and he'd been working for years. Multiple shows a night, traveling with burlesque routines and doing spots before and after strippers. All that practice went into his act, and those avenues are gone. I think that makes it harder now."

James nodded. "Your dad was always the first to admit that it didn't come easy right away."

I smiled at them both, and slapped my hands lightly against the tabletop. "I've got to go and powder my nose," I said, continuing a life-long-and-still-fruitless attempt to bring back one of my favourite pin-up girl expressions.

He grinned at me. I got up and looked at Claire, assuming she'd be coming with me.

"What?" she said to me with that mischievous grin. "I'm staying right here. Lots of work to do talking you up while you're not around!"

I overacted a sigh and walked away, cringing at the thought of what Claire might say about me next.

X

Knock, Knock.

"It's occupied," I called, "but the lock is broken, so don't—" I gasped as the door burst open, relaxed a bit when I saw it was Claire, then got annoyed all over again. "Hey! A little privacy, please?"

Claire shut the door behind her, smiled, and pointed at my ankles. "What are those?"

"They're obviously my panties," I said, bristling.

"No. No way am I letting you wear those when there's a chance Mr. Fan Man out there is gonna see 'em."

"First of all, there is no way he's gonna see them because that's not happening. Secondly, they're control panties. I had to be up on stage, and thirdly, get the fuck out of here while I'm peeing!"

"Jesus Christ, Maggie. You have been married way too long," Claire laughed. Then she knelt down, grabbed them around the middle, and started pulling them down around my heels. She raised an eyebrow when her fingers brushed across the part that had been between my legs.

I blushed. Hard. "It was hot under the lights, okay?"

Claire smiled. "Keep telling yourself that." Then she stood up and slipped my panties into her handbag.

Someone else knocked, and I said, "Occupied!" at the same time that Claire shouted, "Fuck off," over her shoulder. On the other side of the door, someone muttered to themselves in shock and retreated down the hallway.

"Now what?" I fumed. "I'm not going without any panties! This dress, the one you fucking chose by the way, is way too short for that! It's bad enough that it shows off most of my tits. I can't just let everyone see the full package!"

She just smirked as she reached for the button of her jeans.

"No, I'm serious, I'm not walking around showing off my fucking pussy." I continued, then noticed she was ignoring me. "What are you doing now?"

Claire opened them to reveal the most luxurious black satin panties I'd ever seen in my life. She briefly turned to the side, just enough for me to see it was a thong, as she slid her jeans down. Then she hooked her finger into the thong and slid them off.

"I'm not going to feel better knowing you're out there going commando too," I said pointedly, just as the smell of her hit me. It was perfect and intoxicating. I was so close that I could smell her core and I liked it, which was quite a shock. "I appreciate the solidarity, sisters together and all that. but—"

"Hold those," she said, handing me the black satin as she pulled up her denim and buttoned them back into place. I stared down at my hand like an idiot. The fabric felt so light and soft. Thoroughly wet and distractingly warm.

She smiled and took them from me without an ounce of hesitation, and then knelt back down and slipped them over my heels, around my ankles and up my legs, with the black fabric stretching impossibly the higher it went.

"Oh my god no," I gasped in shock, though the corners of my lips still curled up in a vague smile. "Stop. No! I'm not wearing your panties." The skin on my fingers was still wet despite the fact that I'd only held them for a few seconds.

"They're gonna look amazing on you," she said, "now shut up. You done?"

I nodded, and she handed me some toilet paper.

"I can't wear these! You're, what? Four sizes smaller than me? An-and... and I don't wear thongs!" I tried not to think about the fact that I was drying myself in front of her. I let her stand me up and then raise the thong into place, her head close to parts of me that no one had been near in a long time.

"Stop complaining. They'll just be a bit tighter on you is all." She gave the thong a few final tugs so that it slid up high between my cheeks and over my pussy. The material felt tight, and momentary very cold. It was thrilling. For a moment the only sensation that mattered was the wet material pressed tight against my holes, both entrance and exit.

"You know, sometimes I think you share way, way too much," I said.

Claire laughed. "I'll take that as a thank you."

"Fucking hell. What have you done to me?" I said, as I slid my hands over the material.

"You like them, huh?" Claire teased.

"Fuck you."

Claire laughed and turned away, leaving me to pull my dress back down and sort myself out. For the briefest moment I considered taking them back off, but then I thought of Claire's wetness and my own, merging together. I shivered, and joined Claire in the mirror to fix my make-up.

"Just let me know when you want me to drop out of this," Claire said.

"You know you could have him too, if you wanted," I said, making a last ditch effort to get myself out of something I was fairly sure I'd regret come morning. "He'd totally go for you."

"Oh. You mean together?"

"What?! No, I—"

"Oh, that's brilliant." She beamed at me as she grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. "That way you can't back out, and it's not like you'd know how to get him to do what you've been fantasizing about anyway."

"Claire!" I said. Under less-inebriated circumstances, Claire's misinterpretation would have left me stammering, but now it was just one more thing. All I could think to do was roll with it. I was left feeling like I was the one who'd had shared too much, only not now but months ago, and it was all about to come back to haunt me.

X

"So why stand up?" James questioned, as soon as I sat down. "Google tells me you're a... state trooper? Is that right?"

I stared blankly at him, for a moment, as I tried to ignore the unfamiliar feeling of Claire's thong and how much wetter it felt. "You googled me?" I said, quirking an eyebrow. "That's a bit stalkery, isn't it?"

"Maggie, get with the twenty-first century," Claire said, laughing. "All right. Who wants more drinks?"

"I think we're okay," I said glaring at her; my JD and coke was half-full, as was hers.

"Nonsense," she said and downed her drink in one, leaving the ice cubes to clink at the bottom, and made off for the bar.

"Great, leave me here with stalker boy," I muttered, just loud enough to be heard, before taking a huge gulp of my drink.

James grinned at me. "It's perfectly normal to look people up."

"Yeah, maybe, but also not so much to tell your target what you've done."

"If you go by Hollywood movies, it's only stalker-ish if you don't like the guy doing the stalking," James said, and I wondered if it was the JD or the lighting, or the thong, or the fact that we were alone, but he was getting more handsome. I would have to be careful. "If you like him, then I think it's called a meet-cute."

"So... you are a stalker then?" I fired back.

"Guilty as charged," he said with a grin.

I took another sip of my drink.

"Okay, so quick question," James said.

"Go on," I said, making my voice sound wary in a way I didn't actually feel. "One quick question."

"Okay, so how does the daughter of a famous comedian who lives in California end up married—"

"Oh you noticed the ring, then? Here I was thinking you couldn't see it" —I smirked— "or was that on Google too?"

James frowned, though his eyes laughed. "Will you let me finish?"

"Usually, the fun tends to stop as soon as the guy finishes." I was bursting with pride at that one, and had to try harder than usual to hide it.

"Not all guys are that selfish," he countered.

I grinned and remained silent.

"Okay, so married, living in the middle of nowhere, working highway patrol, and then suddenly giving stand-up a go?"

"You forgot the kids."

"Excuse me?" James said, clearly caught off-guard.

"Two of 'em. Sixteen and fourteen. Did your research not tell you that?" I sighed playfully and took a sip of my drink, making sure my timing was good. "It is just like me to have a half-assed stalker!"

James laughed.

"And how do you know this was my first stand up gig?" I countered. "I could have done tons before now. This could be my hundredth show, for all you know"

"Is it?"

"Nope," I said.

"Is it your first?"

"Yep," I smiled and he laughed. I liked making him laugh. God, I was going to have to be really careful!

"Going to be your last?" he said.

I paused and looked at him. For some reason it felt okay to be slightly vulnerable. Damn you, Jack Daniels. "I'm not sure," I said. I paused for a moment while he took a sip of his drink.

"So why is it important to you?" he asked.

I took a deep breath.

"Oh my god," came Claire's voice, saving me from opening up. "I thought you'd be balls deep in her by now. Have you not seen her dress? She's practically begging for it! Look at the cleavage! I mean, could she show any more without showing nipple?" She put the tray down at the table, replete with drinks and shots, and huffed. "I literally took as long as I could! Chose the slowest bartender and everything." Claire shook her head as she started handing out the glasses, large and small. "She must have mentioned what happened in the ladies room though, right?"

"Claire!" I tried to kick her, but missed.

"What happened?" James asked, sitting forward and taking the bait.

"Jesus Christ," I grumbled under my breath, as I reached for the nearest shot and hammered it down in preparation.

Claire puffed up proudly, with a jaunty little cock of her head. "Honestly, Maggie was wearing the ugliest underwear you've ever seen, and since I figured there was a good chance you'd get her without at least some of this dress on, I loaned her mine."

"And they fit?" James asked, seeming genuinely confused.

"Barely, but don't tell her I said that!"

"Fuck you," I fired at James, and then turned to Claire and added, "and you!"

They both laughed. I reached over and helped myself to Claire's shot. It burned all the way to my stomach.

James raised an eyebrow at Claire and said, "Which means you are wearing..."

Claire smiled slyly. "Careful, sunshine. I'm not on the menu. Maggie is the dish of the day!"

"Don't I get any say in this?" I said, "If you can put me on the menu, then I'm putting you on the menu! End of discussion."

"You know, I thought you were kidding about a threesome, but now I'm not so sure."

Her comedic timing was so perfect, I couldn't help but feel jealous. I felt the color drain from my face, and James barely managed to turn his head toward the wall before he spit out a mouthful of his cocktail. We all erupted in fits of laughter as the cocktail slid down the wall behind us.

"No," Claire said, when the laughter subsided. Then she winked. "I'm not wearing Maggie's underwear, and I can prove it."

And, to my horror, Claire pulled out the panties I'd removed in the bathroom and put them on the table. They looked so out of place, and huge. James reached out and grabbed them before I did. He ran his fingers slowly over the fabric as he held them; it was subtle, but it was there. Seeing his hands on my ugliest underwear felt like a crashing of realities I didn't need. The underwear, my failed marriage, my sexual neglect on one hand, and James on the other.

"Okay, no!" I said with a frown, as I reached out for my panties. When I did, I flashed James my best no-nonsense, fun-is-fun-but-this-is-too-far look. He flinched and then obediently handed them back.

There was a pause, and my mind raced the story forward. It was on James now to reveal himself. If he asked about the panties then he would be interested in the same thing that all guys are interested in. Flattering, yes, as I wasn't exactly drowning in offers. Certainly not from guys in James' league, anyway. On the other hand, if he returned to the reason I did comedy then he would be interested in me. Also flattering, but would that mean he was only interested in friendship? Would I be in the dreaded friend zone? Which zone did I even want to be in?

I deliberately said nothing, which was really, really hard. I watched James, and I slipped my discarded underwear back into my bag. They slid between the leather of my police badge and the cold metal of my handcuffs, and there they stayed.

And I waited, and watched, and James held my eyes. There was something there. I couldn't be imagining it. There was a challenge in his eyes, but there was also desire hidden in there. I was sure of it.

"My turn to go to the bathroom," he suddenly said, and just like that he got up and left.

"If you want him, I don't mind stepping back," I said to Claire.

"No way," Claire said laughing. "Absolutely not. It is too much fun making you squirm."

I took a sip of my JD and coke, and coughed. "Jesus Christ, that is strong. Is this a double?" I gasped, hand to my chest as if I could stop the burning from the outside. "Make sure you don't light a match around me or we'll all go up."

Claire laughed. "The bartender thought that was for me, so he may have put a bit extra in."

"And why would he have thought that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. It didn't get any weaker on the second taste, and I winced.

"I might have told him," Claire said with a wink. "So how did it go when I was at the bar?"

"Oh just fine. Honestly, great! We've started planning the wedding, the honeymoon, kids names, even the lawyers we'll use for the divorce!"

Claire frowned.

"What?" I said flatly.

She didn't reply.

"Oh come on, this is me. What did you think I was gonna do? You know I'm awful with this stuff!"

"Well, do you like him?" she asked.

"He's cute," I said, allowingly.

"He's a bit more than cute."

"Yeah. but he's also totally out of my league, Claire! He's more your speed! Do you think he came here looking to bed a stressed-out mom from the middle of nowhere?"

"Except you aren't a stressed out mom today, are you?" Claire said.

"What am I then?" I asked, taking the bait.

"Have you seen yourself? You are a total goddess in that red dress, with the zipper down the front and your cleavage hanging out," Claire said.

"It's definitely more stressed-out mom!" I countered. "Maybe also a dressed-like-a-total-slut-by-her-best-friend mom?"

Claire sighed. "l think he likes you, and I think you've noticed too."

"Yeah, but why?" I countered. "Why is he interested? Does he think I'm gonna be an easy lay? A grateful fuck?"

"Why does it matter? Can't you just be happy that he's interested?" Claire paused. "We both know you actually would be an easy lay and a grateful fuck. If you think he's out of your league, so what?" Claire's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and then widened as if she'd worked something out. "Then you'd do whatever he asked you to, wouldn't you? Maybe that's what you are afraid of?"

"That's not helping me think this is a good idea," I said, ruffling myself a little. "Maybe it's just because he was a fan of my dad? Like, am I a trophy fuck? Something he can tell his buddies about over a beer?"

"Does that make a difference?" Claire counted, "I mean, if it's fun, it's fun!"

"It makes a difference to me!"

"Why though? I mean, do you think you're ever going to see him again? Would you even want to?"

"I'm not really a one-night-stand kinda girl," I said.

"We both know, at times, you wished you were," Claire said, raising an eyebrow.

"Fuck you."

Claire laughed, and after a moment I reluctantly joined her.

"What did I miss?" James said, as he returned to the table. Somehow he'd managed to go to the bathroom and return with a tray of shots in a short time.

"How the hell did you get served so quick?" I asked.

"I'm a good tipper," James said.

"Good to know," Claire said. "Here's hoping you give Maggie more than just the tip!" She reached for a shot and winked at me.

I kicked her under the table. "You are infuriating!"

"Hun, there's a time to be coy and witty about this kind of thing, and a time to drop the act. If you don't say something he's gonna not gonna stick it in your ass and we both know you want that."

"I— what?! I don't!" Except that I did, and Claire knew it. I promised myself, then and there, that I would never have mimosas with Claire ever again, assuming I remembered the promise in the first place. The bottom line, though, was that I couldn't be trusted around champagne, and she couldn't be trusted not to tell the first hot guy we come across about all my secret fantasies.