If I Were Samantha Jones

A bad break-up leads a girl to try one night as Samantha Jones.

     He left me for a club promoting Suicide Girl that knows how to swallow fire.  How could I compare?  I am a psychology student that works at a coffee shop. I found out after catching them on a date at a tequila distillery. Now I’m left here in a dark of room huddled under blankets, clutching a bag of popcorn and watching “Sex and the City.”

 My roommate, Sheila swings my door open with fury. Her face is drenched in disappointment.

                        “Stacey!!!!  It’s been two weeks since the guy left you.  It’s a Saturday night get your ass up we are going out!” Sheila blinds me with the lights and begins to throw clothes around my room like a tornado.

                        “Don’t you wish you could be someone like Samantha, but less slutty?” I say still in dream like state of sadness.

                        “Samantha would never be mourning over a man.  Can you be like Samantha for a night? She once said ‘as soon as my relationships are over, I move on.’  I want you to be like Samantha look good, talk smart and make jaws drop.”

                        “I’m more like Charlotte: prude and idealistic.  I just want a nuclear family.”

                        “Be Samantha!” Sheila yells with a fist full of high heels. 

I thought for a moment how my ex is snuggled up to a stunning model.  I wanted to be her, better than her.  Samantha would put on something jaw dropping and get a hotter man.  Could I really be Samantha or am I forever Charlotte?  

                        “I guess I should get out of the house,” I sigh.

                        “Oh thank, God!  Here, wear this!” Sheila throws me a short cut out dress and red spiked stilettos. 

I slip on the outfit and Sheila brushes on a smoky eye to complete my look.  I straightened my hair then look in the mirror.  The reflection doesn’t look like me.  It looks like someone with no inhibitions and a sex drive like a bunny.  This is me as Samantha. 

                        “Damn little mama!  Call 9-1-1 because you are on fire!” Sheila yells and we both laugh.

Sheila and I take shots in the car before we enter the bar.  As I wait to order a beer at the bar, she goes to say hello to someone.  A man approaches me with heart melting eyes and tattoo sleeve of roses and a crane.

                        “Sasha?” He says in a deep handsome voice starring me right into my eyes as my knees quiver from nerves.  Then I straighten my back and push out my chest, Samantha Jones is in the house.

            “Admit it, Sasha is an imaginary friend you made up in order to find an excuse to buy me a drink,” I make eye contact with the beautiful man and smile.  He smiles as well.  This is going well. “You can buy me a dirty gin martini” I smirk and he waves down the bartender.

            “I’ll have a Samuel Adams and she’ll have a dirty gin martini,” he says to the bartender in a cool even tone, “So what is your not-Sasha, Miss?”

            “What’s in a name?” I can’t believe I said that.  

            “I suppose nothing,” he smiles then sips his beer. “So how is your night going?”

                        “I’m good I just wanted to have a night out.  I haven’t had a drink and conversation with a good looking man in a while.”

                        “Well, aren’t I the lucky fellow.  What do you do for a living?” out of the corner of my eye I see Sheila.  I smile and wave to her.  It’s the signal that I’m okay.  She continues to chat with our friends. We chat for a while, very drab conversation. After we finish our drink we go to the dance floor

            His hands are on my hips.  He’s forceful but still flowing with the beat of the music.  His lips gentle drag across my neck. As my hips move to he holds me close.  His fingertips glide across my body.  My knees tremble and my body is tingling. I turn around and go in for the kiss.  It’s perfect and tender.

                        “You want to come home with me?” He whispers alluringly in my ear.

                        “Yes, but I need to let my friend know,” I say, “Wait by the door.”

            I practically skip to Sheila with a huge grin on my face. 

                        “How are you and Mr. Gorgeous doing?” Sheila laughs.

                        “So amazing I’m going to bang his brains out!”  We scream and laugh.  She slaps my butt in approval.

                        “Good job! Call me if you need me!” I rush over to Mr. Gorgeous who is standing by the door. He takes my hand and my body fills with excitement. My whole being is jittering.  I’ve never had a one night stand before.  This is classic Samantha but unusual Stacey.

                        We start walking to his car then he pulls me in for a kiss. His hand on my hip and lips on mine.  The hormones are already rushing through my body. My hands brace his hips.  There’s passion between our lips and my body feels like it’s on fire.  Then I feel a yank from the back of my head. 

                        “Who is this whore?!” I fly through the air and my back hits a wall. My bliss is shattered.  I turn around with my eyes wide and confused. This women starts screaming and I begin to walk away my head in shame.  He grabs my arm.

                        “I’m so sorry,” he says as the girl glares at us.

“James, lose my number.”  I turn and clink away in my stilettos.  The two shriek at each other in front of the bar.  I see Sheila waiting by the car smoking a cigarette and talking to our friends. They see me and wave.

            “Hey, Sheila!”

            “What happened?”

            “Baby mama drama,” I sigh and steal a drag.

            “Well, it was a good try,” Sheila puts out the cigarette.

            “Like anything else goes, unsuccessful but a good learning experience,” I laugh.  We say good-bye to our friends and get in the car.

We laugh get in the car and go over all of our antics as we drive home.  I’ll always be more Charlotte.  I forgot that Samantha ends up alone with her stilettos and dog. Charlotte gets the family.

 

The End

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