127 - Devil or Angel

“This guy is the best in the city,” Gavin enthused, holding the door. “It’s a good thing you’ve got the cash, Tinkerella.  He ain’t cheap and he doesn’t bump appointments for just anybody.”

She shrugged the bag up onto her shoulder and glided through the doorway ahead of him.  This was making her nauseous.  At least Rocco was staying in the car with the driver.  “He’s reputable though, right?”

“Oh puh-leeze,” Gavin intoned, calling the elevator with the push of a brass-encircled button.  “I’m not gonna let some sleazy creep at you.  We haven’t been friends long, but you should know I have more couth than that.”

The cherry-paneled car was just big enough to hold the two of them and, perhaps, two more passengers.

I’m glad no one else is here for this.

“You’re not leaving me alone for a minute.  Do you understand?”  She put a firm index finger into his ribs to compound the sincerity of her mandate.  “I will tell everyone you only pretend to be gay for the success of the salon.”  Petey had spent enough time there lately to well-acquaint herself with some of Gavin’s staff.  She felt comfortable enough with them to carry out that threat.  “Or that I caught you having sex with a woman.”

He snort vibrated the walls of the upward moving elevator.  “Like anybody would believe that.  I’m an extroverted gay man.  When a hot guy comes into the salon, my people see more than they really want to.  There’s no doubt which way my gay pride flag flies.”

Petey exhaled as the doors slid invitingly apart on the fourth floor of the Madison Avenue building.  The elegant writing on the wall before them declared that this, indeed, was the right destination. 

“Just stay with me.  I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, Dollface.”  Gavin stepped aside, once again holding the door for her to enter.  “You are nothing short of glamorous.  We just don’t want your man to forget it.”

Blowing out a small breath, she stepped over the threshold, smiling at the beautiful young woman at the receptionist’s desk.  “Good morning,” the blonde beauty greeted her.  “Ms. Diehl?”

“Petey,” she confirmed, and gestured toward her companion.  “And this is Gavin.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Gavin intoned nasally, singularly unimpressed with the girl who was intended to be part of the office décor.

The buxom Aryan beauty emerged from behind her desk with a professionally angelic smile.  “I’m Crystal.  Joel didn’t want you to leave you in the waiting room, so please follow me.  We’ll go straight to the back.”

They dutifully shadowed the lovely Crystal, Gavin muttering in her ear, “With what he’s charging you, he damn well better not want to leave you waiting.  It gives you the chance to get pissed and escape.”

“Be quiet,” Petey hissed under her breath. 

“What?  I’m just saying he’s doing the right thing if he expects to keep important, wealthy clients.”

“Here we are.”  The discreet Crystal acted as though she hadn’t heard a word, ushering them into a tastefully decorated – for lack of a better word – bridal room.  The room was done in pale ecru with  soothing pastel accents in its chaise lounge and matching chairs.  The afternoon sunshine was peeking through the window dressed in a filmy white gauze, giving the room a pleasant yellow glow.

Crystal looked inquiringly toward Petey’s bag.  “I assume you have your wardrobe in there?”  Receiving an affirmative nod, she smiled encouragingly and indicated the pink and ecru striped dressing screen in the situated in the corner of the room.  “Great.  Go ahead and slip into your first outfit so Joel can see what he has to work with.  His assistant will be in to collect you shortly.  In the meantime, would either of you like some tea, soda or juice?”

“Nothing for me thanks,” Petey declined, but Gavin went on to request chamomile tea with lemon and honey.

What he has to work with?  How flattering…

“Get that look off your face.”  Gavin’s finger was wagging adamantly at her.  “We’re not leaving.  Take your coat off and dip into your goody bag.  Go with the leather first.”

Ten minutes later, Petey could do nothing but stare in the full-length oval mirror while Gavin bickered at her from the other side of the screen. 

“Girlfriend, my tea is long gone.  You have to be dressed by now.  Get that cute little ass of yours out here.”

“Almost done,” she called, slipping the headband into her wild waves, the little black horns barely noticeable in riot of dark curls.  Looking in the mirror, Petey took a careful, final inventory of each piece of her ensemble. 

There was the studded leather bra that barely concealed her nipples - and didn't conceal her aureoles.  As slutty as it looked, it made her feel sexy, especially when paired with the tiny web of strings and single leather triangle that made up her thong panties.  

Turning sideways, blood-red lips smiled at the triangle positioned over the cleft of her bottom – it acted as the base for a long, black tail whose spaded tip fell to the top of her knee-high leather boots.  She teetered only slightly on the spindly five-inch heels as she fingered the spiked dog collar.  Heavily lined, darkly lashed, violet eyes blinked critically back at her.  Petey had no idea how she could've done any more to physically transform herself into an imp.

Pulling on the fingerless, elbow-length gloves that were her final accessory, she, at last, dared to step around the barrier and present Gavin with the results.

“Holy hell,” he gasped, fanning himself with the little napkin that had been wrapped around his teacup.  “Dollface, that’s enough to make me check the wind direction on my gay flag. Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” He huffed loudly and fluttered one wicked eye at her in a saucy wink.  “Or should I say Lucifer?”

His reaction was everything she needed to relax, and Petey felt the tension ease away on the wings of her husky chuckle. “You do know how to charm a girl, don’t you?”

Oddly enough, he didn’t reply.  He was busy circling her, looking at the costume from every angle.  “Honey, when Jon Bon Jovi creams his pants looking at these boudoir photos, tell him a celebrity referral for the salon is payment enough.”

Her chuckle grew into a full-fledged guffaw.  “It’s not that good.”  Her eyes darted to the mirrored wall.  “Is it?”

“Oh, you don’t even realize, you poor thing.”  A soft, manicured palm came to pat her rosy cheek in pity.  “I picked out the best lingerie for you, ever.  Have water handy, love, because the man will get dehydrated quickly.  Ejaculation aside, even those glorious eight-foot pearly white teeth are going to sweat over that damn tail.”

Gavin was certifiably insane.  Seriously.  Petey was laughing so hard that tears started to well in her eyes.

“Oh, no you don’t!” her flamboyant friend near-bellowed.  “Don’t you dare let a single tear fuck with that makeup!  I spent half an hour on it and I will not let your warped sense of humor ruin it.  You have a photo shoot to get through, Jenna Jamison – or should I say Wednesday Addams?  You haven’t even gotten to the costume change yet.  Beauty has a price, baby, so get out your black Amex and think sultry!”

She obediently sobered.  Gavin had gone to a lot of trouble to help her find this outfit, get an appointment with the hottest boudoir photographer in the city and do her glamorization this morning.  Sultry was the least she could give him.  Besides, she needed his help with the second transformation.

As excited as she was about this outfit, the next one was just as exciting in a different way.  It personified the other side of her split personality.  The sheer, frothy pink gown and matching panties were a cloud of cotton candy pink whose sweetness would only tempered by her inky hair and cobweb stockings.  She needed Gavin to help her soften the makeup from Imp to Sugar.

Well, Sugar with a dash of Imp, anyway.

I wish I’d thought to get a black feather boa.

“Jesus H. Christ,” a male voice boomed, causing Petey’s head to whip toward the doorway.   There was a short, stocky man who was frozen there for a split second before barreling into the room.  The salt and pepper haired man was a whirling dervish of energy and he stalked to Petey, devouring her with an eagle-eye.  “I’ve gotta say I ain’t ever seen anybody in that kinda getup for wedding pics.  You marrying Ozzy Osbourne?”

“No,” Gavin rebutted on her behalf without missing a beat.  “Her man has better teeth and excellent enunciation.  Nor is he one breath away from a really long dirt nap.”

His sharp eyes looked Gavin up and down with a mild curiosity.  “Me-owww!  Down pussy cat, I was just askin’.”  He turned to Petey.  “I’m Joel, and you are a photographer’s wet dream.  I’m tellin’ ya now, the bra has to go.  I had the picture in my head as soon as I saw you, and this ain’t it.  I want you on your elbows, breasts down on a red satin bed, with that that tail stuck in the air draping to the side.  Whoever your demon king is gonna lose it on sight.”

Gavin nodded smugly, nudging her with a pointy shoulder.  “Told ya.  If you can hoist a gay man’s flag, a straight man doesn’t have a chance.”

“You got a costume change Ms. Diehl?”

If this guy was going to see hear near-to-naked, he might as well call her by her first name.  “It’s Petey, and yes.  It’s pretty well the polar opposite of this.  Pink and fluffy.”

“Diversity in a woman.  I like it,” he approved boisterously, circling her like a lion inspecting its next meal.  It should have made her squeamish, but Gavin’s continually nodding head made it okay for some reason. 

“Pink ink, huh?”  He had spotted her tattoo and then ducked around for a glimpse of her left hand.  “And did I see…?  Yes.  Yes, I did.  A pink diamond.  That’s gonna make a helluva shot.”  Joel finally lost the steamroller persona and smiled engagingly. “Petey, this is going to be some of my best work ever.  I can just feel it.  Are you ready to get started?”

She slid a look at Gavin, who was all but bouncing with excitement, and then reverted back to the photographer.  Butterflies were running rampant in her stomach.  She was going to allow herself to be captured for all of eternity looking like this.  She was desperate to keep bondage pictures hidden, but she was going to immortalize her imp-dom.  What sense did that make?

And not just that, she was giving it as a gift.  Granted, it was a gift to a self-admitted pervert, but still…

Jon, if you don’t ‘cream your pants’, you’d better at least make me cream mine.