Skin Deep
an excerpt

There was nothing worse, Layne thought, than sitting alone in a bar on a Friday night.
Unless, of course, you were sitting alone, nursing a diet coke, watching other people's coats and purses as those other people flirted shamelessly with hot guys.
Like the guy at the bar Karen was currently talking to, a gorgeously tall, dark skinned man wearing what looked very seriously like Armani.
Layne would have kicked her own ass, had she been able to, for agreeing to come out with Karen and Susan tonight.
This was not the first time Layne had accompanied Karen and Susan someplace she didn't particularly want to go; it was all part of Layne's plan to make them like her, to try and forge some kind of relationship with the uncontested Queen Bee of her office and her key minions, something that would ease the pressure of working with women who hated other women. Layne knew that this was not uncommon--the women hating women thing, at least--she'd seen enough Lifetime televison to confirm that most of the time, women treated other women, their comrades in arms, rather poorly. Since Layne hadn't grown up with a traditional american upbringing, she was lacking that gene, or whatever it was that allowed women to get along while at the same time treating each other horribly behind their backs. She still hadn't gotten the knack--hence, Friday night at a bar sitting surrounded by Karen and Susan's heavy winter coats and overpriced purses.
Layne glanced at Karen's Chanel handbag for perhaps the twentieth time that night. Wondering if it was real. Wondering how a woman, any woman, any person could possibly spend a thousand dollars on a bag. Apparently, Karen could--and did.
She felt a presence next to her, and looked up at the waitress, dressed in hot pants, a red halter top and fishnet stockings. Layne shrugged and the waitress smiled, commisseration in misery. Layne put her hand over her diet coke, the unversal symbol for "no more." There was no way to have a conversation with the waitress in the bar--the music was pounding so loudly Layne could hardly hear herself think. The waitress wandered off and Layne directed her attention back to the bar, to Karen and Tall, Dark and Handsome, and the dance of courtship in progress.
Karen wasn't bad looking, Layne supposed, but she was, Layne thought, completely overdone--too put together, a little too much hair, a little too much makeup. Although Layne had never gotten the art of putting oneself together down--tonight, she was wearing her usual work uniform, a brown suit that hid her breasts and hung on the rest of her frame--she knew that Karen had gone just slightly too far with her look. The statuesque blonde leaned into the bar, tipping her head, hair swinging, a blatant invitiation. Although Layne couldn't see Tall, Dark and Handsome--henceforth referred to as TDH--full-on from her spot at a table a good twenty feet away from the bar, the man must have been something extra special, because Karen was putting it all out there, every skill she had.
Susan was a few feet away from Karen, talking closely with a man who looked like he'd gotten stuck in "college frat" and had never successfully extricated himself these twenty years later. Susan was slightly less attractive than Karen, brunette and petite, a good foil. Layne knew it was important for Karen to be the best looking woman in any group, and she chose her work friends accordingly.
In tonight's scenario, this meant that Layne, their third, was there to make the two of them look better. She stared down at her drink, wondering why being the least attractive girl in the group bothered her so much, especially when in her heart she knew it wasn't true. She might not have been in the usual run of things, but she wasn't unattractive. Mostly she just tried to fit in, to be normal.
Karen's loud, abrasive laugh carried over the crowd and brought her attention back to TDH. He was looking pretty hooked, Layne thought. Smiling, leaning in, and god, just all around hot.
Karen wouldn't know what to do with him. Layne knew what to do with him, or at least she thought she had a pretty good idea.
On his knees would be nice, she thought. Naked. Supplicant. Maybe she'd let him keep the silvery blue tie around his neck. Something for her to hold on to.
Or maybe she'd just hold on to him another way. She smiled, thinking, imagining.
Mmm. It was a fun thought.

Something was happening at the bar that brought her attention back to Karen and her potential hook-up. TDH was turning around and gesturing behind him, to the dark space in the corner. Karen looked confused, leaning around TDH, looking into the corner, for what, Layne didn't know. Suddenly a large shape coalesced from the darkness--a huge shape--and a man, who was bigger than any man Layne had ever seen, stepped into the light.
TDH gestured, a "come here", and the man shook his head, looking angry. Fierce.
Wow. The guy was scary. Layne could see a dark shadow crawling around the neckline of the man's dark t-shirt, up under his ears and into his hairline. A tattoo? she thought. Layne glanced at Karen, who looked absolutely terrified. TDH turned back to Karen, and it was clear he was planning to introduce the two of them, but at the look on Karen's face, he froze.
The big guy came closer, putting a massive paw on one of TDH's shoulders, saying something in the man's ear. TDH turned and shook his head vehemently. Disagreeing. The big man shook his head, once, and then, ignoring Karen, walked away.
Towards Layne. It took her a second to realize that he was on the way to the exit, and that there was no possible chance he was actually walking towards her. He was leaving the bar, instead.
She tried not to stare, but couldn't help it. As he passed her table, he must have sensed it, because he looked down (way down) and for a moment their eyes met.
She thought: he has amazing eyes. They were icy blue, bright and clear.
For just a second, it was like time stopped. Neither one moved. Then, shaking his head, the big man turned and walked away.
Layne looked down at her hands, laying on top of the table. Looked at her diet coke, at the purses and coats, and wondered why she wasn't brave enough to just leave the bar, to go home, curl up with a good book or a movie and give up on trying to be friends with women who weren't worth being friends with.
She looked back at the exit, where the big man had gone.
And damned if she didn't think, if he can do it, I can too.
She pulled on her purple gloves, slipped her arms into the sleeves of her heavy bright blue down jacket, tucked Karen's Chanel purse under the pile of coats, got up, and left.
And felt...liberated.