Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

 

I'd never have guessed. Not Sally. You wouldn't. I mean, not by looking at her – you wouldn't

think. Or would you? Come to think of it, she has changed a lot lately. Doesn't dress that way

though. Is usually pretty tame. Nothing to draw your attention, no 'advertising' as such, just

off-the-rack New Look. Not like that slapper Lowena, (two-timing cow), tarted up in pure pro.

I reckon it's the hair. Yeah, that's what it is. Not exactly Marilyn – you'd never consider Sally an

'archetypal' vacuous blonde. But it's fake as. Gloriously, wondrously, self-confessed trailer-trash.

It's brilliant, absolutely brilliant and I love it. So do the men. Somehow she manages to carry it off –

get away with it – even with an inch-thick stripe of re-growth. The 'badger look' Sal calls it. But she

looks so good. Hot. It's the hair – has to be.

That and the bright red gash of lippy. I'm sure she never used to wear that shade? When she's

round for a cuppa, leaves her lip-print smudge all over the mug. Like one of those cartoon kisses.

Or an Andy Warhol pop-art poster – wasn't that Marilyn? Not sure. Anyway, doesn't really matter.

Bet Sally knows. She knows everything there is about art and literature. Used to be a teacher –

taught A level English up at the college for a while. A proper, respectable job. So she's not dumb.

Not in the slightest – just blonde. Talk about multi-talented. Yet another of my 'can-do-anything-

they-put-their-mind-to' friends. It's so not fair.

Sorry, where was I? Oh yeah, red. Red for seduction. Red for pleasure. Danger. I do worry about

her you know. Worries me that she doesn't really know what she's getting herself into. Not that I

don't think she's capable of looking after herself or anything. She's streetwise alright. Old enough

and ugly enough to watch her back. Take care, you know – be careful of people. It's dodgy territory.

You can never really be safe.

At uni she was so cautious. Such a prude. Used to have a go at me for sleeping round – jumping

in and out of bed with whoever, whenever. God, she was like my bloody mother. Mum said, wasn't

it nice that I'd met Sally. Such a lovely girl. Thought she'd be a good influence on me – model

student and all that. Calm me down. Well, if mum could see Sally now.

We went our separate ways, of course. If I remember rightly, she headed off to Brazil. Or was it

Argentina? Something to do with the 'Theatre of the oppressed'. That'd be right. Super Sal always

had to have the most interesting interests. Got involved in exciting projects. Became politically

aware, with 'aspirations to bring about real change'. Anyway, that's what she told me.

How she ended up back in arse-end Penzance, I'll never know. Did try and ask her about it once,

but she was ever so evasive. Strange that, actually. Odd. I was so chuffed to bump into her on

Chapel Street – thrilled to find out she was living back down here again – that, apart from that one

time, I never really thought about it.

So here she is. And would you believe it – setting up her own business? No overheads. No tax,

and £80 an hour. Eighty! I'm on £5.29 and Sal's making eighty. All it took was one tiny add in the

Pirate: Sophisticated Blonde offers sensual massage. Private and discrete. Visiting service that aims to

please. No withhelds.

And now she's raking it in. Laughing. Have to say, I really admire her. She's got a lot of bottle –

and we're not just talking about bleach here. Sal puts it all down to the hair though. Is totally

convinced that it's boosted her confidence. Says she'd never've considered something like this

before. Before the Jerome Russell B.blonde : High Lift when she had ordinary dull, brown hair.

Like mine.

Now she says she feels great. Real sexy. Powerful, and in control. One of her clients offered her a

retainer in exchange for a regular weekly slot. A car and a flat. Can you believe it? I'm jealous – of

course I am. But I still want to wish her all the best. As long as she's careful, she should be alright.

Doesn't take too many risks. Just a short-term 'career path' Sal reckons. Long enough to pay off her

debts and buy a camper van.

Sal could do just about anything if she put her mind to it. She's sassy and clever that way. Is

thinking about writing a book – her memoirs: “Secret Confessions of a Private Masseuse”.

Maybe it's about time I tried a bit harder – started pushing the boundaries. Reached for that bleach.

Searched for a hidden me.