"Erm, thank you?"
"Of course. Now, Kendra, help her shimmy out of that. It's 4:00, and we need this ready by six, so get altering, darlings." Lacey claps her hands, her amount of enthusiasm matching my amount of doubt. "Go ahead and shower and wait in your dressing room. I believe your Jenna will be here at 4:30 to get started on, well, all that," she says, circling in the vicinity of my facial area.
"Gee thanks," I manage, mumbling through the last of the navy material coming over my head. "Right, see you all later."
I doubt anyone is in the showers. How could they be? This is like prime gram time at the big offices and such. I finally get to walk into my new dressing room, and the moment I see it, I let out a squee like a little girl that finally got her pony she always wanted.
The room's been converted to match the setup of Jenna's closet, only more light and a HUGE vanity where there's a bed in hers. I run my hands over my outfits, neatly hung up in a monochromatic line. I pull out some of the drawers and find all my accessories have been bunched together by type. Mittens, hats, scarves, leg warmers, wrist fluffs, they each have a drawer. There are shelves on the other side that hold some of my hats and items I've used in the past, like the tote and beach towel from my first day.
And then I get to the vanity. This baby has a gray marble counter that must run six feet and a huge mirror behind it. There have got to be twenty light bulbs surrounding that thing, probably enough to blind me. I like my sight, so hopefully it's not football stadium bright.
Under the two ends are crisp white drawers. There are more drawers in this little room than I think I'll ever fill. I'm not that girly. Beside each of those is a larger set of drawers, all still part of the vanity. Curious as to their contents, I open it up and see someone has organized my makeup. There is also costume jewelry and one of the taller sets of drawers is filled with hair stuff. Curling irons, flatirons, crimpers, wavers, hot rollers, a couple of blow dryers. Seriously, this has the makings for a salon and makeup bar. And when the hell did all this get done? Sure as shit wasn't overnight.
Glancing at the clock someone included on top of the mirror, I realize I better get my ass in gear and hit the showers. Once I'm out, I'm digging the fact that there's a door straight to my changing room and a deadbolt lock from my side. Seriously, this is freaking amazing right here.
Amazing or not, I need some clothes. Ogle your pretties later, self, because my goddamned tits are fucking freezing, and I want my robe. I wonder where to put my... Oh. there's even a laundry basket in here. How nice of them. Plus a new plush red robe? I'm getting pampered as fuck in here.
I sit for a moment on the black cushy chair and smile, content with where I am. Maybe it hasn’t even been two weeks since my ex kicked me out, but damn, look where I am now. I’m really digging Drake and this job, and I feel more secure where I am now than I ever did before. Which is freaking crazy, since, you know, I’m living in a closet.
Drake…he treats me like I always thought a man should treat a woman. Even if things go south, I’ll have been treated like I deserve.
Too soon, a knock sounds, accompanied by an enthusiastic, "Let me in, Bitch. I know you're in there, and you better have used the good shampoo I left out for you." There's my Jenna, always keeping things interesting.
I unbolt the hallway door and let my girl in.
"I can't wait to... Whoa." And my mouthy BBF is struck silent. Not for too long, sadly. "I knew it would turn out a-fucking-mazing!" she shouts, jumping up and down.
"Wait, you knew about this?" I can't believe she didn't tell me, the ass.
"Who do you think helped design this place? Right after I came in with the makeup, he found where I worked and contacted me. I now cut all the guys’ hair, and he pays for them, plus I'm in charge of, well, you, and everything to do with your face and hair. Which, we really need to get started. I'm going to go see the stylists for what you're wearing, and we will coordinate from there. Put in some leave-in conditioner and start combing that rat's nest out," she shouts on her way out the door.
If Drake started this way back then... well, I guess I'm staying around for a while.
At 6:15, Jenna declares that my hair and makeup are done, and Lacey and the dressmakers come in. I bet they have some sort of telepathic thing to let each other know when they are finished with me.
"Right, you look more put together, darling, so let’s get you in this dress." I shrug carefully, not wanting to move or bump the hard work Jenna just did, and stand. Going over to my panties and bra drawer, I pull out a cute red pair of boyshort style panties and am hooking one leg in when Lacey almost makes me fall over.
"Stop," she exclaims. "My dear girl, what do you think you are doing?"
"Erm, putting underwear and a bra on?" I hesitate. Panties are for people, people wear panties; therefore, I should wear panties, right?
"No no no no, that will completely ruin the lines of this dress. You don't need that or a bra in this, darling, so put those away and come here."
Stifling the nervous energy I have from thinking about going commando, I put 'em back where they were and move in front of the dress crew.
"Well, come on, strip down, we haven't got all day." Lacey snaps. Yes, she literally snaps her fingers. My face starts heating up, and I can’t remember the last time I blushed this hard.
"Umm, can you guys, like, turn around?" I ask, the blush moving up my face like a bad case of pimples. Unwanted, annoying, and straight-up awkward.
"Girl, you shower with a bunch of guys." Jenna rolls her eyes.
"Yeah, guys who know the bro code and don't actually stare at me while I'm naked. They're at least somewhat respectful as they check out my body. You all are just staring at me, waiting for me to get naked." I admit it, I get a little loud at the end there.
"Oh dear God, Kendra, Michael, turn," Lacey says, rolling her eyes as well. I hope they get stuck in the back of her head. "Better?" she inquires, tapping her foot and crossing her talon arms.
"Thanks." Because it's not awkward at all to still have a crazy designer and your best friend studying you. Oh, wait, Jenna is cleaning up the hair mess. I take that back. So I do what I need to and drop the robe and spread my arms. Better, lady?
"Perfect. Now, arms up, turn away from me towards the closet wall, and let's get this baby on you."
I obey, hesitantly, but I do it. I'm kind of glad she's checking out my ass and not my tits. Like, I get that it's weird, but if I'm going to have a woman staring at my naked body, I'd rather it be my backside.
The navy dress slips over my head, and she hooks the straps over my arms.
"Arms down, darling, and adjust yourself in front." These crazy assholes have completely redone the front. There's like nothing to it, and the middle opens down nearly to my navel.
"Erm, is it supposed to be like this in the front?"
"Yes, just adjust yourself and be quiet while I do up these hooks."
Crazy woman, fine, but if I have a nip slip tonight, I'm totally blaming you. Can I do that? Yeah, I totes can.
"And finished. Jenna, come fix this little bit of hair, and then we will turn for the big reveal. Michael, Kendra, fetch Mr. Drake and the folding mirrors. Oh, and the wedge. As for you, little miss, no peeking," Lacey states. "Give yourself a good shake! Let's make sure these fit well enough, or else we'll use the clothing glue to keep you in place. It'll also check the hair. Although you won't really be dancing or anything, we need to know in case it's windy wherever you're going."
So I give myself a good shake, leaning over and trying to create a nip slip. Let me tell you, though, this team works wonders, and the dress fits me like a glove. Even my hair doesn't move. Well, that might be from the fact that Jenna used a whole can and a half of hairspray on it, but still, no movement. It's like my hair has become a helmet. I giggle. I bet if I got in a car accident, my hair would be enough cushion to keep my head from harm.
There's a knock on the door, and in come Kendra, Michael, and Drake. I
see some of the other Santas out in the hallway, trying to sneak a peek, but Drake shuts the door firmly in their faces.
I focus on Drake, on his reaction to this dress I haven't even seen yet. It's got to have the hobo got let loose look, so I don't know what he's going to say. Michael sets the round wedge on the floor, and I step up, facing the door and Drake. He and Kendra move my dress around a little, spreading it, and all I can do is look at my boss.
His eyes have warmed, turning to molten sapphires, and I can just see the beginning of his erection starting. His eyes finally meet mine, and I grin, winking at him. My God, the man blushes! He seriously blushes and turns away, adjusting himself.
“Alright, girlfriend, it’s 6:30, and your client’s going to be here in the next fifteen. Let me just…” she trails off and touches my head, then sprays me with more hairspray. “Done. You look pretty, darling.”
Finally, everyone has ooh'ed and ahh'ed, and I'm just ready to see the damned thing on me. "Will you please set up the mirrors already?" I practically yell. Chuckles sound from the whole room, but I finally get my wish.
"Close your eyes, Bitch, so you can be surprised," Jenna urges, rolling her eyes at me. Obliging, I close them, and I hear the mirror getting unfolded.
Drake’s sandalwood scent comes near, and it's his hot voice that says, "Open them."
The creature before me is unearthly. She's gorgeous, a being of power and strength, defined by the shadows of a dark night and lit by the glittering stars on her dress. She's amazing.
My dress fits now, the front covering me but dipping low, showing my skin and teasing at my curves. It's fitted to my natural waist, then flows out into dozens of ruffles of tulle and silk and chiffon. The train behind me drags on the ground, just barely, so I know when I stand on the ground, I will be trailing stars behind me. They've centered a mirror behind me, and the back dips low, just a few inches above my waistline, and there are more layers back there.
My makeup has been done with a careful hand, a smokey eye that fades from a soft pink, to violet, to navy, perfect for my hair and dress. My lips are a dark plum, and my face has new angles and highlights. I reach up to touch the being, but Jenna is quick to stop me.
"Don't touch, girl, it's perfect. I've set it twice, but I'd rather we didn't risk a smudge before you get there."
So my hands drop. The winged liner she had to do twice is perfection, and my lashes look full with the falsies and the mascara. I feel like a goddess.
" Good, good. You are perfection, darling. Let's get you down off this wedge and get your shoes on, just to make sure we picked the right height for you," Lacey calls.
Drake offers me his hand, and I take it, stepping down like a queen from her throne as Kendra sets a pair of dreaded heels down in front of me. I step into them and gain a quick two and a half inches in height. Thankfully, they aren't stilettos, so I doubt I'll be making a fool of my client tonight.
The heels don't match the dress, but they are stunning. The toes are pinks swirled together, and they gradually blend to violet, and finally navy at the heel. I love them, and I bet they were custom-made too.
Drake's phone dings, and he releases me to check it. I miss his warmth and strength already.
"Alright, your client is on his way, about five minutes out. Let's get you out there, so the boys can call you pretty, then we can get you to the doors," Drake says.
I turn, and both Jenna and Lacey have tears in their eyes.
"What the hell’s bells you crying for? You weirdos," I ask.
"Well, Bitch, you look like a grown up, all dressed up and prettified. And it's the dust! It's in my eyes, you insensitive jerk." Jenna wipes the few tears away. Dust, my ass.
"Oh, darling, it's just as I envisioned. And now that I've dressed you once, I can work up the nine other dresses that were ordered for you, and we can get those ready for your future nights, because darling, looking like that, you're going to be a hot commodity after tonight." Lacey uses a talon to wipe her tears away. Her clap startles me, and I'm glad I can grab onto Drake. Ooh, muscles, yum.
"Now, go show those boys how a true Miss Santa acts and looks," Lacey says with flare. The woman is mental, I swear, but I’ll be damned if she doesn't know how to take me from hobo to goddess real quick. "Here is your clutch for the night a wrap you can take off once you get there," the crazy lady cries, thrusting the former into my arms and draping the latter around me.
Drake offers me his arm, and I gladly take it because the butterflies have turned to angry hornets in my stomach, and I'm kind of worried I might hurl.
We exit the door, and about six of the guys are out there. On my entrance to the hallway and into the lobby, I get a grand applause and some hoots and catcalls, as per the hooligans’ norm.
Drake leans over to whisper in my ear, "Landon will be sorry he missed this." His hot breath heats the outside of my ear. "You look delectable. I'd love to lift your skirts and kneel, opening you up and tasting how sweet you are down there."
I gulp and try to keep the blush from coming out. No panties makes it hard to keep my own juices from slipping down my legs. Oh, and I totally could have worn panties with this dress. That lying crazy lady just wanted to check out my ass, I know it.
Soon enough, three vehicles pull up outside. Two large black SUVs block the way, and a black limousine pulls in on the other side, blocking the view from here. Flurries of anxiety ride me hard, and those hornets begin darting around a bit faster. My phone buzzes, and I quickly glance at it, only for it to make the hornets start swarming. I ignore the damned text and take a deep breath.
"Come with me, Blake, and I'll introduce you to your client for tonight," Drake states.
I turn and wave to Jenna, and the guys, I guess, and even the designers, then, with a push, Drake and I are out the door. The slight breeze cools me quickly, and I tug the wrap up around my shoulders.
"Don't worry about tonight," Drake tells me. "I know Xav personally, and he's a nice guy. Did you get to finish going over the file today?"
"I did, and I thought the guy’s name was Chief Charles? Did you give me the wrong file?" Panic. Panic fills me, and all thoughts of having a good night are gone. The alarms in my head are on full red alert, just like that one movie when he sees the girl. Mine are screaming, "Run! Run!" instead of, "Girl! Girl!"
"No, it is Charles; he just goes by Xav to his friends. No need to panic, Brat. You're fine. He's a great guy who just needed a companion for the charity event tonight. I suggested you, so he wouldn't have to ask someone at the precinct or anything again and get feelings hurt."
Ok, panic is reducing. We are down from a DEFCON one to about a three. It'll probably lower after I meet this guy unless he's a heavy drinker and gets loud, or he's fat. Then I'll stay on high alert. Flashes from the night nine years ago with Craig cross my eyes, and the large lumbering forms coming towards me in my memories make me stop in my tracks, anxiety and fear hitting me like a sucker punch.
"You good? I told you, he's a nice guy." Drake says, pausing with me.
I shake my head, forcing down the emotions. "I'm ok, just had a thought. I'm good now."
"Ok, then let me introduce you," he states as we round the SUV.
We round the corner, and there are three men standing there, two in black cargo pants and black t-shirts, and one in a very nice tuxedo. The man in the tux has his back turned to me, but it's so well-fitted that it's like he’s wearing another skin. From the back, I can see that he has a tight fade up to a flat top. His dark hair is liberally sprinkled with silver, and he has to stand just under a foot taller than me.
"Hey Xav, this is Blake," Drake announces. The tall, packed with steel body turns, and I get the full frontal view. This guy is no fat man from my past, but instead has broad shoulders that taper down to a slim waist. I'm guessing he’s packing an eight pack, and if I tried to take a bite out of his arms, I'd probably crack a tooth on those biceps. His eyes are blue, just like Drake's, but this man's are more pierci
ng and distant.
"Blake." My arm is taken from Drake’s into the large warm hands of Charles, and I instantly feel safe and secure in his hands. "It's lovely to meet you, and I'm grateful to you for taking me on so last minute. I hope it didn't ruin your schedule too much?"
His whole face changes with the smile accompanying these words. His teeth are as white as snow, he has a dimple on the left side, and his eyes warm with the action, forcing my own smile in response.
"Nothing that couldn't be moved around for you, Xav," Drake responds for me.
"Yeah, I'm good. Nothing like four hours of work gone to make me pretty." I roll my eyes.
"Well, those four hours were definitely worth it. You look stunning. You'll have the paparazzi and guests drooling and wondering where I found you." He grins, cheekily flirting with me. Not that I mind. Damn, this guy is gorgeous, and the silver with the black hair? Scrumptious.
"Wait, paparazzi? Like I get that this is going to be a swanky event, evidenced by this," I say, gesturing to my dress, "but nobody told me the paparazzi would be there. That’s, well, insane."
Drake and Charles just laugh, and Charles brings my hand to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss and caress. "You'll do fine. It's only from the car to the doors, then the photographers and journalists are kept out. Just try not to talk to them, and you’ll do just fine."
Yeah, umm, no. "Ok. Should we get going?" I ask, seriously intimidated by this whole production now. Like, what if I trip? What if I break a heel? What if I eat the wrong thing and burp and everyone laughs, and then I puke from nervousness? Not like that lightning strike would hit twice, but come on.
"Let's," Charles agrees. He helps me turn and slide into the limo, gliding across the leather chairs while trying not to ruin my dress. Charles follows me in and moves around to my right side.
"So... how do you want me to address you, Mister Chief of Police? Chief Charles? Mister Charles, Charlie?"
"You're an insistent little thing, aren't you?" he asks, chuckling and shaking his head. "How about you call me Xav? I have a feeling we’ll get along well."
A Naughty Santa Gram Page 14
