Sunny - Mona Lisa Darkening

"You will?" My voice was careful. Not angry, exactly, just careful.

"Oui, oui. Just put yourself in my hands and all will be fabulous." He beamed at me. I didn't beam back. I just looked at Dontaine. Demanded an explanation.

"Antoine is an exclusive dresser."

"A dresser?" I asked. I'd never heard of the term.

"Oui," Antoine said, nodding proudly. "I dress the rich and famous in our fair city, those fortunate enough to have my services."

Not a shy one, our Antoine.

"He's also a very talented makeup artist," Dontaine continued.

Antoine fluttered his long mascaraed lashes up at Dontaine. "You flatter me, cher!"

One look at Dontaine's beautiful, pleading green eyes and all the resistance went out of me. I nodded, giving my permission. Why the hell not? I was here. Antoine was here. I'd had my hair and nails done, why not makeup and clothes? I wasn't entirely pleased at how Dontaine had sprung it on me, bit by sneaky bit, but truthfully, had he tried to ask me ahead of time, I would have likely flat-out said no.

"What would you like me to do?" I asked.

"Just sit. Sit and put yourself in my hands," said Antoine.

I sat. Another seat, a high one, was brought out, along with a table tray for Antoine. He laid out a huge makeup box on the table, filled with all brand-new items.

"First, cleansing." Antoine, talked me through the entire process while the video camera blinked red at me. Then face cream was applied. He choose a foundation, the lightest one, smearing it all over my face and neck with a triangular sponge. Ick. I sat through everything he did with a stony, unsmiling expression that must have been perfect for all he did, because he didn't ask me to change it, not until it came time to apply the lipstick.

"Open your mouth a little. That's it," he murmured, penciling in the outline, then filling in the rest of my lip color with a tiny brush.

Eye shadow was simply closing my eyes. Eyeliner was a "Look up" and "Look down." The most uncomfortable part was curling my eyelashes, and then gluing on a set of false eyelashes. It took about thirty blinks to get used to the odd feeling of my eyes after they were applied. I shot Dontaine a glare that said, I cannot believe I'm letting them put this shit on me!

Dontaine smiled soothingly, serenely back at me. Easy for him to do. He wasn't getting his face painted or eyelashes glued on him. Crap! I wondered how many times I'd have to scrub my face to get all this stuff off me.

With hair and face done, I was whisked into a back office where an entire rack of clothing hung. Even more clothes had been draped over two chairs.

"I am not trying all those clothes on," I said, flatly balking.

"No, no, of course not," Antoine soothed, his tone distracted as he flipped through the thick rack of clothes. "I brought extra sizes just in case Dontaine's guess was off, but it isn't. Here, try this on." He thrust gold slacks and a light green oriental silk shirt into my hands, and closed the door behind him.

I changed, grumbling a bit, but only a tiny bit. It could have been much worse, like one of the long formal gowns I saw hanging on the rack.

When I opened the door and walked out of the room, the men froze. A look flashed in Dontaine's eyes, something I couldn't read. Something that made me wish suddenly for a mirror so that I could see what he saw.

Antoine clapped his hands and trilled, "Perfect!" Then added, "Well, almost. Shoes. All you need now is shoes. Sneakers so do not go with that outfit." Going to the clothing rack, he unzipped the plastic end section, revealing eight sets of shoes sitting neatly in layered cubbies. He grabbed the ones in the third cubby, delicate ivory ballet slippers, and handed them to me. "Try these."

There was nowhere to sit. Dontaine solved the dilemma by kneeling. "Allow me."

I opened my mouth to say, "Don't be silly, I can put on my own shoes," but closed my mouth, the words unsaid, at that look again in his eyes. It was as if he bespelled me, but he didn't, not really. He just looked at me that way, and I allowed him to unlace the sneaker, slip it off, and lift my right foot onto his thigh. He slid his hand slowly up the pant leg until he touched my bare skin. He made the gesture of removing my sock and cradling my bare foot in his hand more intimate than it should have been. In a graceful, chivalrous gesture that made me feel a bit like Cinderella, he slid the slipper onto my foot. A perfect fit.

He lifted my other foot to his thigh, and my hands went to his shoulders for balance. The slight buzz of touching him made my hands tingle. He bared my other foot, cupped it in his hand, then the cool satin lining of the other shoe slid over my skin.

"Perfect," Dontaine murmured, looking up at me.

"What's perfect?"

"You." He stood up and drew me down the hallway. "Come see what I see."

Antoine was waiting for us back in the salon; he'd slipped away without my noticing. I froze as I looked beyond him and caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror.

A stranger looked back at me, and she was beautiful. Strikingly so, like a model. The makeup had been boldly applied, with no attempt at being subtle. Dark eye shadow and heavily smudged liner brought out my eyes, heightened their exotic slant. The long fake eyelashes — that did not look fake at all — made my eyes appear deep, stunning pools of mystery. Blush carved out my high cheekbones, and red lipstick made my mouth fuller, poutier. My hair was full and wild, wisping in artful layers about my face instead of hanging straight and heavy. The color, though, was the biggest change. My dark hair had been lightened to a deep shining bronze, and streaked with blond and gold highlights, a color theme echoed by my clothes.

Under Tersa's lightly applied makeup, I had been pretty. In NetherHell, I had been lovely in a delicate, flawless-skin kind of way. Now, in these clothes, with this bold, unsubtle makeup, I was drop-dead gorgeous. Sensual and sophisticated. Like one of those women that appeared in glossy ads.

"Wow! I don't know what to say."

Others didn't have that problem.

"Stunning," said Melvin.

"Beautiful," oohed the salon girls.

"Divine," cooed Antoine. "Devastatingly divine."

"You guys are miracle workers," I said.

Melvin and Antoine didn't argue with me. Just nodded their heads in preening agreement.

I still couldn't believe what I saw, what they'd made me. I touched a hand to my face to make sure that divine reflection was really me.

Antoine pushed a tissue into my hand. "No touching, cher. Wipe your fingers, that's a good girl. You don't want to get any makeup smeared on your clothes." Sitting me back in the chair, he turned the video camera back on and proceeded to give detailed instructions on how to remove the makeup, pointing out different bottles of cleansers to use for each part of my face — eyes, lips, and lastly skin.

"I don't think I'll be able to remember everything," I said, overwhelmed.

"That's why we're videotaping this, cher" Antoine popped the DVD out of the camcorder, slid it into a clear plastic case, and handed it to me like a precious gift. "For you, along with everything here in this case." He gestured to the large makeup box.

"You're giving me all this stuff? That has to be over five hundred dollars' worth of products in there."

"Try a thousand," Antoine said lightly.

I gulped. "I couldn't possibly take it. It would be a waste to give it to me. Even with the videotape, I doubt I'll be able to do what you guys did."

"I'll help you learn," Dontaine said. "Just take it and say thank you." That look again in his eyes.

I said thank you, hugged Antoine and Melvin, and allowed Dontaine to usher me out into the car in a near daze. Antoine and an assistant followed us out, both of them loaded with an armful of clothes, which they laid out on the backseat.