“You sound like you’ve had first-hand experience.”
She shrugged, brandishing a bottle at me. “Wine or something stronger?”
I walked toward the kitchen counter and perched on a bleached wood stool. “If I’m going to be playing dress-up Barbie, I’ll need something a little stronger.”
Her mouth flexed into a wicked smile. The bitch was going to enjoy this. She turned around and opened up a cupboard above the fridge. Without having to get a step. I hated her a little more. “I’ve got Goose, Jack, or Lag.”
“Ooo, all my favorites. Lay some Jack on me.”
She handed me a squat glass with ice and the bottle of Jack. “I have a feeling you’d like more than one drink.”
I started pouring. “You got that right.” I threw back the first mouthful, then poured another. “Alright, I’m ready.”
“For a firing line? Going to war?”
“Believe me, it kind of feels that way. No, I’m ready for you to recreate me.” I scratched absently under the strap of my shoulder brace.
“Oh, honey, you say the sweetest things.” Taking my free hand, she dragged me into her bedroom, which was just as light and airy as the rest of her apartment. She had an old fishing net on the wall, along with more nautical knick-knacks and enough throw pillows to bury a man.
She positioned me in front of a vanity mirror then pressed on my shoulders to make me sit. She began fussing with makeup trays and pots of things I couldn’t even begin to identify.
“I’m going to make you look good enough to eat,” she announced.
“Is that desirable when going to a sex club? There are things there that would actually eat me.”
She gave me a wicked grin. “Only if you asked nicely.”
Taking a deep breath, I waved my hand in front of me. “Carry on. I’ll be here self-medicating.”
With a throaty chuckle, she got to work.
An hour later, I barely recognized the face staring back at me. I hardly wore makeup. I didn’t think it suited me, but it looked as if I was wrong, wrong, wrong about that. I was fucking hot. She’d left my hair loose in long teal waves that softened the harder edges of my face.
“I’d bang you,” Faline announced with a grin. “You are so getting some action tonight.”
“Action? I don’t need any action.”
“Why? Got a boyfriend stashed somewhere we don’t know about?”
“No.”
“Then you can enjoy yourself, and if someone offers you orgasms, you’ll take them.”
I turned back to stare at my reflection, my eyes running over the smoky makeup, the cat-eye liner, and the false lashes that I had to admit made me look fuckable now. “I’m not sure I can do it.”
“Casual sex?”
I snorted. “Casual sex is fine.”
“What is it then? Ah, the supernatural thing.”
“It’s not what you think,” I blurted, swiveling around on the stool. “I don’t think I’m as terrified of you guys any more, but others? I don’t know. What if there are extra… appendages?”
She made of show of twisting her tongue around in a swirling motion. “Extra appendages are fun. Plus, if you don’t want anyone to approach you, stick with me or Sawyer. We’ll keep you safe.” She waited until I nodded before saying, “Okay, time to get dressed.”
“This is the part I’m scared about,” I told her, following her into her huge walk-in closet. “This apartment is like a Tardis.”
“Ah, a fellow Whovian.” She began pulling dresses off the racks like this was a Nieman Marcus rather than her own personal wardrobe. I watched her with increasing trepidation. Eventually, she turned around and said, “Strip.”
“Aren’t you going to buy me dinner first?” I shot back with a grin, stripping out of my jeans and blouse.
“Cute panties,” she commented, and I looked down at my unicorn print Victoria’s Secret underwear.
“Thanks. I bought a life-time supply when they released this design.”
“Badass. Unicorns are wicked. Step.” She positioned the dress at my feet, and I stepped into the shimmering red fabric. It skimmed over my thighs and hips, finally coming to rest at my bust.
“Lose the bra and the shoulder brace if you can,” Faline said absently as she walked around the back of me to zip up the dress. When it was done up, she stepped away, studying me.
“I like the color, but it’s clashing with your hair,” she said. “Next dress.”
She got me into another three dresses before finally settling on a pair of leather pants that felt amazing against my skin and a black tank top that hit me just above my navel. Around my waist, she settled three leather bands that were nothing more than decorative. Finally, she slid me into a red leather jacket that finished at the waist and showed off my bare midriff.
“How does the shoulder feel?”
I shrugged. Honestly, I’d expected a lot more pain.
“Okay. What shoes do you want to wear?”
“My motorcycle boots?” I asked hopefully.
“Pfft, no. You’re wearing fuck-me heels. It’ll take the outfit to the next level.”
As she searched for a pair of her heels for me to wear, and I secretly wondered how we both shared the same miniature shoe size, I asked, “Why did you decide against the dress? Not that I’m complaining, but I thought you were going to feminize me.”
“I was, but I want you to be comfortable too. We’re going to a place you’ve never been before, and I didn’t want you hindered by fabric if something went wrong.”
“Thanks for the foreshadowing,” I joked. “But seriously, I really appreciate you considering my feelings.”
“What are friends for?” she replied, stripping out of her work clothes. I leaned against the doorjamb, looking at the racks and racks of clothes she had. Some of them looked vintage, but then I remembered Faline was old and some of these outfits were probably originals.
“Holy shit, your back!” I hadn’t meant to yell, but the words kind of popped out and were amplified. By a lot.
The succubus peered at me over her shoulder, the same shoulder that was covered in scars.
“You don’t
