The Polaroid
Marley Quinn
The Polaroid
by Marley Quinn
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Sicky
No Refunds
Missed Connections
Bun in the Oven
Sticky Sauce
Bubbles and Squeaks
Fountains of Joy
An Angel
Our Dirty Little Secret
Sicky
Shivering in the crisp air, Lucy sprang from her bed with a smile on her face. At last! It was finally cold enough for her to wear her new coat.
Taking it from the closet, she admired it, once again congratulating herself for her amazing find. It was a navy blue coat trimmed with three wooden pegs, what they called a watchcoat or a peacoat, like the kind that sailors used to wear. Lucy shrugged it on, admiring herself in the mirror.
She knew it was a man’s coat but she thought that the rich blue color was the perfect compliment to her long blonde hair and creamy complexion. The coat was warm and snug and looked fabulous on her hips as she cinched the belt closed.
Walking to school, Lucy was pleased to see her best friend Danielle’s face as the two of them met.
“Wow Luce, you look fantastic!” gushed Danielle.
“Thanks,” said Lucy with a demure smile.
“Where in the world did you find that coat? I want one!”
“I bought it in a thrift store,” said Lucy. “It needed a good washing but, as you can see, it came out great. And I only paid a few bucks for it.”
“Definitely looks great on you,” said Danielle.
The two girls walked to school, talking about their classes, when Lucy felt something in one of the inside pockets of the coat. She felt around in the deep pocket until she felt a thin square of paper. Taking it out she gasped and then quickly shoved it back in the pocket.
“What was that?” asked Danielle.
“Oh nothing,” lied Lucy.
During her third period art class, Lucy excused herself and went to the restrooms. Once she was safely locked in one of the stalls, she eased the piece of paper out of her purse. It was a photograph, a Polaroid, one of those instant pictures she’d only seen before in movies.
But this was no ordinary photograph. Someone had snapped a close-up of a man’s penis, a fully erect penis. Lucy gawped as she stared at it. The angle of the photograph made the man’s cock look enormous. The boldness of it, the direct focus on his genitalia was surprisingly erotic, especially as Lucy never usually found such images appealing. The man’s penis was thrusting upwards, its delicately fluted head in sharp relief. His balls, gently furred, were slightly out of focus.
Who was he? And why had someone left this photo in the pocket of the peacoat? There was no way to tell. Lucy flipped the photograph over but the reverse side was blank. She looked at the photograph again, noticing the throbbing vein running horizontally on the man’s penis, the tip of his shaft red and slightly angry looking, the little slit at its end almost seeming to wink at her.
Even safely alone in the stall, Lucy cast a few glances upwards to make sure she wasn’t being spied on. The photograph was crude and definitely lewd but somehow it fascinated her. She turned and twisted the photograph, trying to make out any details in the background but there was nothing, just fuzzy black space. Somehow the raw image of a man’s erect penis was just so unambiguously masculine that it appealed to her. She felt, to her surprise, that she was starting to get aroused. She hurriedly thrust the photo back in her purse and dashed back to class.
After school the two girls walked to Lucy’s house. “Are you okay, Luce?” asked Danielle.
“Yes, why?”
“Well, you just seem distracted. Are you worried about our physics exam next Friday?”
“No, that's not it. I’m sure I'll do fine.”
“Well what is it then?”
After a long moment’s hesitation, Lucy spoke. “Come on up to my room. I've got a secret to show you.”
“Oh I love secrets!” said Danielle.
Up in her bedroom, Lucy slowly withdrew the photograph from her purse and showed it to her best friend. Danielle gasped and then shrieked, “Oh my God, Luce, did you take this? Are you dating some guy and didn’t tell me?”
“No, hell no,” said Lucy, somewhat crossly. “I found it. It was in the pocket of my coat.”
“Wow,” said Danielle, continuing to stare intently at the photograph. “That guy is… he’s hung. I’d sure love to get me a taste of that!”
“Stop it!” said Lucy, snatching away the photograph from her friend. “Come on, now. I’ve obviously got to throw it away. If my mom finds that in my room, I'll be done for.”
“Hey now,” said Danielle. “No need to be hasty. If you don't want it, I'll be happy to take it off your hands.”
“Nah,” said Lucy. “I don't know what to do, actually. On one hand, it’s disgusting and crude. But on the other hand it’s kind of fascinating. I just wonder who took this photograph and who’s the guy in it. I bet you there’s a story there.”
“Oh my gosh, I know what you should do!” squealed Danielle. “You should totally investigate it.”
“What? Don't be crazy,” scoffed Lucy. “Investigate a picture of some guy’s thing? That's ridiculous.”
“No, no, hear me out,” said Danielle. “You're applying to Columbia’s journalism department right? Well this is your chance, girl! You can do a whole investigation and write it up and include it in your application. They’ll be sure to take a bright young journalist like yourself if you show ‘em what you can do.”
“Journalism is about serious stuff,” said Lucy, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I can't investigate someone’s dirty Polaroid. What the hell, Danielle?”
“No, no, you're not getting it,” said Danielle, sitting up, her eyes flashing. “Not the photograph, dummy. The coat. You can investigate the backstory of the coat. You said you bought it at a thrift store, right?”
“Right.”
“Well that's it then!” cried Danielle. “Don't you know how trendy this is? You can do a full investigation into the origin of the coat. You can find out who donated it, maybe all the way back to the guy who first bought it. And then follow it up with the company that manufactured it, you know, connect the dots. Columbia will love it!”
“You know what?” said Lucy, a smile appearing on her face, “That's actually not a bad idea. I might just do that.”
“Yes!” said Danielle, clasping her best friend in a tight hug. “And if you should happen to find the stud with the sweet cock along the way, all the better. Now give that picture back to me a minute. I'm going to the bathroom and I want to look at it some more.”
“Sicky,” said Lucy with a laugh.
No Refunds
The next day after school Lucy walked the long blocks down to the thrift store where she had bought her fabulous coat. Entering inside, she asked for the manager. After several long minutes of waiting, a middle-aged woman with black-framed glasses on a chain around her neck came out of the back storeroom.
“Yes, hello. I'm the manager here. Can I help you, young lady?” asked the woman.
“Yes, hello ma’am. My name is Lucy Kitteridge. I bought this coat here a couple of months ago.”
“Sorry, no refunds. All sales are final,” said the lady, turning to head back towards the storeroom.
“No, no that's not it,” said Lucy, her face blushing. “I love the coat.”
“Well I don't normally say this but I do admit that it looks rather fetching on you,” said the older woman.
Lucy continued, “The reason I'm here today is actually because I'm trying to track down the person who donated it to the Handy Dandy.”
The woman harrumphed. “Missy, we don't give out that kind of information. Sorry.”
“But, you see,” said Lucy in her sweetest voice, “I’m a senior in high school and I’m doing a journalism project. I’m investigating where our clothes come from. So, you see ma’am, it’s a project for school.”
“Hmm,” said the woman. “Well if it’s for school, maybe I can help you. Let me check our records. But I can't promise you anything.”
“Thank you, ma'am,” said Lucy as demurely as she could. The older woman disappeared in the storeroom for several long minutes. When she returned, she held a thick sheaf of papers in her hand. Lifting her glasses to her nose, she rifled through them. After several agonizing moments, she tapped one long fingernail on the paper in front of her.
“Looks like you're in luck, young miss,” said the woman. She then wrote down a name and address and passed it over to Lucy. “Mind you,” said the older woman, “I'm trusting that this is all for a legitimate journalism project. If I hear one word about you abusing our donors for some silly trick, I will be very angry.”
“Oh no, ma'am,” said Lucy, batting her eyelashes, “It’s all for a serious project. Thank you so much for your help.”