Gentlemen Prefer Succubi

Julianna took one look at me and gave a haughty sniff. “Did you dye your hair?”

That was an odd conversation starter. I touched my hair curiously. “Er, no. Does it look darker?”

She shook her head at me and took a sip of her latte. “It’s a perfectly garish shade of red, if you ask me. But I suppose you didn’t, did you?” Julianna gave me a tight-lipped smile and turned away. “Do remember that this is a museum and not a brothel.”

Insulted, I made a quick run to the restroom to check it out. Huh. It did look a little brighter than usual, and shiny as could be. I was rather pleased. Maybe the new shampoo I’d bought was working wonders on my lackluster mane.

At nine, the morning crowds began filing in, and I went to stand at the museum entrance and greet the school groups. The museum was the biggest in the state, and always busy at the beginning of the school year. I think the teachers were trying to break the kids into class with ease and started the year out with a lot of field trips. Then, when the kids were good and trapped, throw the monotonous crap on them.

We had a good showing, so I put on my best docent smile and straightened my glasses. My eyes watered and a massive headache pounded between my eyebrows. I was tempted to fling the glasses off-I could do the Pre-Raphaelite spiel by heart now and wouldn’t need sight to lead the tour.

I wimped out and left the glasses on. Nudging them up the bridge of my nose, I headed for the first adult I saw, who had a strained look on his face. The middle-aged man had to be a teacher, judging by the sweater vest. “Good morning. I’m Jackie Brighton, the tour docent. Are you read-”

I had to break off because the man was staring at me with the most unnerving look on his face.

“Hi,” he whispered after a rather long, uncomfortable moment.

“Um, hi.” There’s always one weirdo, I thought with irritation. “I’ll be the docent for your trip through our museum. Think you could gather your students around so we can get started, Mr. …?” I waited patiently for a name.

He put his left hand in his pocket as I spoke, and when it emerged it was ringless, with a nice white tan line where a wedding band should go.

Real cute.

“I’m Jackson. Jack Jackson.” Instead of shaking my hand, he kissed the back of it, reverence in his eyes. “You must be beautiful-I mean, Ms. Brighton.”

I pried my hand out of his, ignoring the way it made my hormones flutter. “Yep, that’s what I said just thirty seconds ago. Shall we get started?”

“Do you want to go to dinner sometime?”

“Not really.”

“No?” He looked absolutely crushed. “Are you sure?”

Positive, I thought but forced a fake smile to my face. “It’s sweet of you to ask, but perhaps you should take your wife out instead.” It was amusing to think that a guy had a crush on me. That didn’t happen often. Like, ever.

Yet now this teacher was staring at my breasts (all four of them) with disconcerting fascination. I waved a hand in his face. “Remember me?”

“Boy, do I.” He sounded awed.

How can you not love that? Creepy or not, I was warming up to him. “Shall we move on to the tour? Please?”

“Of course.” He followed me reverently to my docent stand, where I passed out brochures.

The museum had three wings, and my tour went through two of them in detail. The adoring teacher was pleasant and well behaved for the rest of the tour, to my relief. He was actually the most attentive guest I’d ever had. When I pointed to a Waterhouse painting that was a particular favorite of mine, he made the appropriate awed noises, and I was touched. I could forgive a little boob staring, I suppose. My breasts did look rather odd, even to me, and I saw them every morning.

The disturbing thing was that by the end of the tour, most of the students had wandered away and I had a tour group full of male teachers, all as reverent and adoring as the first.

Was there some sort of joke I wasn’t in on? If so, it wasn’t funny.

It wasn’t funny to my boss, either. Julianna was glaring at me from a distance, so I excused myself from my group and hurried over.

“What is going on, Jackie?” Julianna crossed her arms over her chest and peered down at me.

“I swear that I don’t know, Ms. Cliver.” I tried my best to look contrite and apologetic, when what I really wanted to do was cram a pencil up her beaky nose. “I think someone’s playing a prank on me. Look at how they’re acting.”

She gave a sniff of distaste and looked down her long nose at me. “They do seem to be rather adoring. You’re right. It must be a prank of some sort.” She fixed her sharp gaze on me. “Fix it.”

Fix it? How do you fix having a mob of men following you around?

I “fixed” it by hiding in the women’s restroom for the next two hours. Just call me courageous.

CHAPTER FIVE

The end of the workday couldn’t come soon enough. In fact, it didn’t, so I took off early. To be on the safe side, I slid out of the receiving doors in the back and took the long way to the bus station.

Julianna must have sniffed something odd with that nose of hers, because she came running after me in the parking lot. “Just where are you going, Jackie?” Her nasal whine made me shudder. “We have two more tours scheduled to come through this afternoon and I’m short a docent as it is.”

“I came in early this morning, so I thought I’d leave early,” I began, then stopped myself. I didn’t have to explain anything to Julianna. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay.” I turned to face her, putting on my best poker face. I suck at lying, but desperate times call for desperate measures. The men in the museum unnerved me. “Something’s come up.” Like my stress level.

She fixed her baleful gaze on me. “You can’t stay for the rest of the day? One more hour? We need you here, Jackie. What am I supposed to do without two of my docents?”

I didn’t think it’d be a life-or-death situation to let a class or two wander the museum unaccompanied, but of course I didn’t say that. I opened my mouth to protest and was cut short by the rip of fabric and a snapping sound.

“What was that?” Julianna asked.

“I think it was … my bra.” My breasts suddenly felt rather loose and fancy-free. Sure enough, the clasp dropped to my feet, looking like it’d been through a war zone. Mortified, I pulled my jacket closer and buttoned it up the front, which didn’t work so well, because it gaped in all the wrong places. “I really can’t stay now, Ms. Cliver.”

She sniffed and avoided looking at me. “I guess not. Be sure and be in tomorrow, then.”

“But-”

“You’ll be in tomorrow if you want to keep your job, Jackie.”

“Fine,” I said sullenly, thinking with longing of the nine days of sick time I had accrued.

“And make sure that you wear clothes that fit you.” With that, she turned on her heel and pranced back to the museum. “For a change,” she called back over her shoulder in a nasty voice.

Sometimes I hated my job. Mostly due to my boss, who made a boring job completely unlikable.

The bus ride home was one of the longest I’ve ever had. I kept my arms crossed over my breasts to keep them from bouncing and kept my jacket clutched tight to me, but I still got a lot of ogling. I was never so glad to get off a bus in my life, and I half-expected the man sitting next to me to follow me home. To my relief, no one did.

I ran straight for my apartment once I got to my building, without stopping to check my mail or say hi to the doorman like I always do. He gave me a curious look as I rushed past and I raced up the stairs two at a time, then slammed my door behind me. Lack of sleep had made me paranoid.