Succubus on Top

CHAPTER 11

When I went inside to relay this to Bastien a few minutes later, he took Dana's presence on the proposed shopping trip much better than I had.

"That's fantastic! More time for—"

"So help me, if you say 'reconnaissance,' I'm going to smack you. I'm only in this for the clothes."

"Fair enough. But this is a golden opportunity, and you know it. You can feel her out. Put in a good word for me, maybe. Something. Anything. I need this. But," he added, "don't do it at the cost of being…detrimental."

"Give me some credit here, all right? I understand the situation's gravity. I'll help you."

His roguish smile lit up his face, or rather, Mitch's face, which was kind of weird. "While you're at it, maybe you can brush up on your female bonding."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do a count of all your closest friends someday. I don't think you like female competition."

I made a face at him just as Jody and Dana showed up. They took me to some astonishing shopping nexus a couple of miles away. I couldn't believe that much retail space could be crammed indoors. We had a few enclosed shopping centers in Seattle, but nothing like this.

Browsing stores with Dana was about as horrible as I could have imagined. She eyed scantily dressed teenagers askance and spoke to a black saleswoman like an underling. Still, despite my distaste, I remembered my duty and attempted friendliness. Over and over, I tried to bolster Bastien's reputation.

"He's so into what your group's doing. He'd like to get more involved. Maybe you could come talk to him about it sometime."

Fortunately for "Mitch," these comments did elicit a warm response from her. Yes, she'd be happy to give Mitch some one-on-one time. Anything for the cause. How nice that he cared. Truly, he was a smart and compassionate man. Blah, blah, blah. She always enjoyed spending time with him.

Yet, despite this fleeting progress, her demeanor remained stiff, and her attention always shifted back to me. She peppered me with all sorts of questions, as if she were specifically probing for some key piece of information. She wanted to know what I did for a living. How close Bastien and I were. Where my "relationship" with Seth was going. What my take on the CPFV was. What my values—race, sexual orientation, etc.—were. I felt like I was being grilled, but she pushed on in that honeyed voice of hers. Despite her aloofness, she always managed to sound friendly and nonthreatening. I could see why she so enthralled her fans.

This isn't just curiosity, I realized. She doesn't trust me. Dana knew something was going on with Bastien and me, and now she was trying to figure it out. That was probably why he wasn't really getting anywhere; she was on to him. True, she probably didn't suspect a covert plan featuring an incubus, but I'm sure she had her share of more mundane enemies. She was on guard for such things, hence her skepticism about our cover stories. Bastien had no idea what he'd gotten us into.

So, I worked hard to maintain our innocence, answering her queries as best I could. My usual charm still wasn't working on her here, but I performed better than in previous encounters—except for the questions about Seth. The reality with him was weird enough without having to live another version of it via Tabitha Hunter, and I found myself stuttering and blushing when she brought him up.

When Dana left us at the Christian Dior counter of Nordstrom to go look for slips, I nearly sagged in relief.

"What about this one?" Jody held out a tester of pale pink lip gloss that would look great on Tabitha, less so on Georgina.

I opened it and studied the color. "Too light. Besides, it'd probably come off with one sip of something."

She gave me a mischievous grin. "Or in other activities."

I rewarded her with a look of mock astonishment. It wasn't hard to do; she was full of surprises, it seemed. Fun ones. "Why, Jody. Here I thought you were a respectable married woman."

"Are you kidding? Marriage only makes you less respectable. Gives you a lot of time to invent new things."

Grinning back, I swapped the pink lip gloss for a red one. "Better not let Dana hear you talking like that. I got the third degree about my boyfriend, as it is."

Jody's mirth dimmed a bit, though she held her smile. "It may feel like the third degree, but she's just curious about you, that's all."

"Yeah, I guess. No other reason, I suppose." Best not to mention my theory that Dana suspected Bastien and me of duplicity.

To my surprise, Jody looked back down at the eye shadow display, pointedly avoiding my eyes. I was reminded of that day in the yard when I'd had the sense she wanted to tell me something about Dana. Something bad.

"Jody," I murmured, setting down the lip gloss, "what is it? What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Forget about it."

Dana returned just then, and the moment was gone.

"They don't have what I need. Let's check Victoria's Secret."

I perked up. That was the best thing I'd heard ail day, aside from another possible insight from Jody. We entered what had to be one of my top five favorite stores. We split up, Jody going to pajamas and Dana looking for some slip that would undoubtedly match that god-awful underwear of hers.

As for me, I promptly sought outrisquelingerie sets—once I'd ascertained the other two women were occupied. No way was I having a repeat of the swimsuit incident. Unfortunately, the store had a more outstanding selection than usual, and what I'd intended to be a mere browse turned into a full-fledged mission when I found a few sets I simply had to try on.

Dana and Jody were still deeply engrossed with their own wares, so I inconspicuously slipped into the dressing-room line, hoping to be in and out before either of them could investigate what sweet, innocent Tabitha was into. I had just made it to the head of the line when both of them squeezed in next to me.

"What a crowd," Jody said. "Mind if we just share your room? They're huge here."

I felt the blood drain from my face as I tried to think up some reason to decline. An idea for a contagious, flesh-eating disease was forming in my mind when the sales associate ushered us into a room that was indeed more than big enough to hold the three of us.

Dana only had two skirt slips to try on, and she pulled off her slacks with unconcerned efficiency. I winced upon seeing the granny panties again. Meanwhile, Jody tried on a set of cute flannel pajamas.

When I made no moves of any kind, Dana asked me if I was all right. Swallowing, I slowly began removing my clothing. She watched with narrowed eyes. The first bra and panty set I tried on was made of ivory lace decorated with black bows. The second consisted of deep magenta satin and was cut so racily it was barely a few scraps of fabric. When I got to the third one—sheer black mesh decorated with embroidered pink flowers—I wanted to die.

Jody and Dana had finished and were waiting for me. Jody's face was pleasant and casual. Dana maintained a look of neutrality, but still radiated disapproval. Great. I could feel myself blushing furiously. Bastien would kill me if he found out I'd not only damaged the wholesome image, I'd completely destroyed it.

While Dana stayed stone-faced, Jody cocked her head at me curiously. "I think you have the wrong bra size, Tabitha. They all look too big."

Of course they were too big. Tabitha Hunter didn't wear a 34C. Georgina Kincaid did. I'd intended to shape-shift to my preferred body when I was alone in here.

"Oh," I said stupidly, feeling like the whore Dana thought I was. Make that a dumb whore. "Well. I lost some weight recently."

I tried on the last one—red with glittering silver flowers— and even in the wrong size, it was stunning.

"That looks great," Jody said, echoing my thoughts. "I wish I was brave enough to wear something like that."

Dana studied me thoroughly. "That bra offers no support whatsoever. It has no purpose."

"She doesn't need the support. Besides, that's the point. It doesn't have to be functional. She just wants to be pretty."

"Pretty for who? And why? She isn't married."

"So what? It's none of our business."

Dana glared daggers at the other woman. "None of our business? Humanity is our business." She must have read Dickens recently.

Icy silence filled our little room. I felt invisible, regardless of the fact that I was half naked. "Hey guys? Maybe we should go. I'll just take this off."

"No," said Jody sternly, eyes locked with Dana's in a battle of wills. "It's beautiful, Tabitha. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"She is beautiful," concurred Dana smoothly, "but that outfit would be better suited to a married woman." Her tone suggested that even that was questionable.

I was on the verge of just leaving the room as is, but seeing Jody defy Dana like that kindled something warm and fuzzy inside of me. Bastien would kill me, but I couldn't keep myself from joining the fight.

"You know," I remarked to Dana, making sure she noticed my blatant examination of my backside, "if that's the case, then maybe you should try this one on. It's just your color. Kind of Christmasy too. I'd love to see it on you. And I bet Bill would really dig it. "

Dana just stared at me, biting her lip again as she held my challenging gaze. She looked like she might snap back but instead simply pursed those lips together in a hard, straight line. Without another word, she left the dressing room, door banging loudly behind her.

Jody stood there uncertainly for a moment. "It looks great," she reiterated before following Dana out.

By myself, I decided I might as well use the alone time to shape-shift and try on the lingerie in the body they'd been intended for. As expected, they looked pretty hot, so I bought them all. I figured I deserved to salvage something from this disaster.

"So how'd it go?" asked Bastien when Jody and Dana dropped me off at his place later on.

"Fine," I said, having already stuffed the illicit purchases in my car, lest they raise questions from him. "Just fine. Well…sort of."

I told him about Dana's interrogation and my theory that she might suspect us of something insidious, even if it wasn't what we actually planned. His face grew grimmer and grimmer as I spoke, and I knew he thought I had a point. When I finished, I leaned my head against his shoulder, hating to see him so miserable.

"Hey, don't worry. We'll get through this. I mean, look on the bright side: Dana and I did a lot of bonding today. I think we had a real…breakthrough."

I knew doubts still plagued him, but he had cheered up by the time we—no longer as Mitch and Tabitha—arrived back in Seattle later that day. We picked up Seth on the way to Peter's apartment, promptly ensuring that neither man spoke to me for the rest of the car ride.

Once again, Jerome chose not to grace us with his presence, but everyone else had turned out for more good food and poker: Peter, Cody, Hugh, and Carter. Carter seemed quietly intrigued by Seth's presence while the others greeted him like a long-lost brother. Considering how often he came up in conversation among us, I think the other immortals regarded him as one of our inner circle already.

He stuck close to me for most of the night, but turned out to be a pretty damned good poker player. I think his quiet, placid nature fooled others into forgetting he was there. Amusingly, he seemed pretty pleased about his winnings too, albeit in a mild, Seth sort of way. It made me happy to see this side of him, happier still to know he was enjoying himself with my friends.

I didn't really know what side of me he saw that night. My friends sure didn't pull any punches when it came to teasing me about my various idiosyncrasies, and Bastien seemed to think it was Memory Lane Night. He kept telling all sorts of stones from my past, trying to lure me into inside jokes no one else knew about. I stayed away from that path as much as possible without offending him. My priority was still making things work with Seth, and as I held his hand all night and only gave polite smiles to Bastien, I think it became clear to the incubus where my loyalties lay. He didn't seem too thrilled.

Halfway through the game, I received a joint call from Mei and Grace.

"Hello, Georgina," said Grace.

"It's us," said Mei.

"Did you find out anything?"

"No matches," Mei told me.

"Oh." So much for that avenue.

"But that may not mean much," said Grace. "We always miss some."

"And it doesn't really matter," said Mei. "They're not a problem if they don't meddle in our affairs."

"And most don't?" I had run into countless immortals over the years, from all sorts of cultures and powers, but I had not paid much attention to how they operated with each other in a political sense. I had always been content to worry about my job and my job alone, safe in the knowledge that the authorities I answered to wielded enough power to deal with anyone else.

"Most don't," the demonesses agreed in unison.

The poker players regarded me curiously when I hung up.

"Who was that?" asked Peter.

"Grace and Mei."

Hugh made a face. "Ack. The crazy-bitch-dyke twins."

"Hey, that's uncalled for. They've been very helpful."

"Yeah? Well, just wait," he warned. "Next thing you know, they'll be wanting to cut your hair and dress you in black too. "

Cody smiled at my outrage. "Why do I get the feeling there's another illicit Georgina investigation afoot?"

"It's not so illicit."

"Illicit enough," remarked Bastien with a yawn. "You and your mortals."

He pocketed the money he had left, downed his bourbon, and thanked Peter again for another fabulous evening.

"Leaving so soon?" I asked.

"Off to find fairer company. No offense to you, Fleur ."He leaned down to me and brushed a kiss over my lips that lingered a breath too long for friendship. "Good night."

His departure spurred a new round of the Bastien Fan Club as they all speculated what sexual escapade he was about to embark on now.

"How does he do it?" asked Peter.

"I wish I was that good," added Cody.

"Hey," I complained, "pursuing women isn't any harder than men. Sometimes it's easier. "

"That guy's amazing." Hugh acted like I hadn't even spoken. " Going after a new one tonight when he's still sporting a glow that can't even be a day old. I wish I got lucky that often."

Seth didn't like to speak much with this group—or any group for that matter—but like my other friends, he was in awe of the incubus. Hugh's comment especially piqued his interest.

"What do you mean by 'glow?' Like an afterglow?"

Hugh grinned at him. "Sort of…you must know what I'm talking about. The post-sex thing? The glamour?"

"Whose deal is it?" I asked sharply, not liking the conversation's new direction.

Seth turned thoughtful. "Well, then it is like an afterglow. I mean, everyone sort of has something like that after sex."

"Yes, but it's different for an incubus or a succubus," explained Peter professorially. Unless I was mistaken, he was starting to pick up a British accent. Too much exposure to Bastien. "In their case, it's more of a literal glow—to other immortals at least. When they've had sex, they take that person's life. Life force is alluring. To an immortal, a just-laid incubus or succubus will almost—"

"Glitter," suggested Cody. "Or sparkle. And yet…not. It's kind of hard to explain. Hasn't Georgina told you all this?"

"Not this," said Seth. "So I…er, mortals don't see it?"

"Are we playing or not?" I asked impatiently, raising my voice. Carter caught my eye.

"Not like we do," continued Peter. "But they—you—feel it. Or maybe 'sense' is a better word. It pulls you in. It's very attractive. "

I sunk lower into my seat, trying to decide if anyone would notice if I suddenly turned invisible. I might as well have been since no one was listening to my protests anyway.

"You must have noticed it," pointed out Hugh, taking a swig of whiskey. "There must be days when you see Georgina and practically can't control yourself because of how hot she is. You can only stare. Of course, it's probably hard to tell the difference since she's always so hot, huh?"

Everyone except Carter, Seth, and I laughed. I knew the imp had meant that last part as a compliment, but I wanted to throw my gimlet glass at him nonetheless. The hilarity soon died down, and we returned to cards. But the damage was done. Seth and I hardly spoke for the rest of the night, not that anyone—save Carter, I suspected—even noticed.

When Seth and I left, I knew something bad was coming. I dropped him off at his place, and he invited me inside to eat Rocky Road ice cream. He was a big ice cream fan. I should have just turned around and left, but Rocky Road has supernatural powers. Plus, I remembered what Seth and I had discussed after the recent make-out session in bed—how we had to communicate about issues, rather than ignore them. I still believed that to be true, but theory and practice were two completely different things.

He made up two bowls for us, and we ate the ice cream in silence for a while. When he finished, Seth played with his spoon, not looking at me.

"So," he asked, "is it true?"

"Is what true?" Like I didn't know.

"Come on, don't make me spell it out," he said gently. "I just want to hear your version, that's all."

I opened my mouth to speak, to find some way to neutralize all this, but my tongue felt thick and useless. No coherent words formed.

"Is it true?" repeated Seth. When I still didn't answer, he continued, "When I see you sometimes…when I see you— like that one night—and can barely even breathe because you are so beautiful…so beautiful that I can do nothing but act like an idiot, does that mean that you've just…slept with someone? But, of course, I don't actually mean, um, 'sleep'…"

Damn, this communication thing really did suck.