Chapter 155

~~Jack~~

Two weeks later.

“She sounds like she was an amazing woman,” his mom said.

“She was a total hard-ass and a bitch. But, yeah, she was pretty amazing in her own way. Fiona’s wrecked. I haven’t seen Athalia since, but I bet she’s taking it worse.” He took a sip of his red. “It had me ... feeling a little sad, and thinking about us, you know? We don’t talk as much as we should.”

“You’re Invictus. I’m Ordo, sort of. And you have big responsibilities. I’m just a fledgling, trying to learn the ropes.”

“I know I know. But still, we should talk more.”

She nodded, smiling as she sipped from her glass. The two of them were in his mansion, but not in one of the rooms. So many rooms, rooms he didn’t need. They sat on the stairs in the lobby, in front of the big double doors, with a cool bottle of blood and a couple wine glasses. Both in suits, too. They looked ridiculous, and they’d laughed about it the first time. And the second time. By the tenth time they saw each other in suits, they’d gotten used to seeing each other in expensive clothes. How quickly one grows accustomed to wealth, Antoinette would say.

Well, he couldn’t grow accustomed to a bunch of fancy rooms. He liked the stairs. Did in his old home, and he did here.

“My mom wasn’t like her at all,” she said. “A lot softer. I guess I got a lot from her.”

“And granddad?”

“Quiet guy. Reserved. Bit like you. But this was the 50s, right? The only time a man was allowed to be emotional was when he was drunk.”

“Heh, don’t feel all that reserved these days.”

“Me neither. But your girlfriend changed life for the both of us.”

He glared at his mom hard, until she raised a brow and took a sip.

“What has Antoinette been telling you?”

“What? About what?”

“Sex.”

She coughed up a bit of the blood, but managed to keep the glass close and sputtered into it instead of all over his very, very nice stairs.

“You want to have the sex talk?”

“Ugh, no, not really. Just hearing you say ‘sex’ makes me clench. I think we should just both accept we’ll never really be comfortable with each other’s sex lives.”

“You think?”

He nodded. “I think. I’m never gonna be comfortable knowing my mom has a sex drive. And Dad’s dead and gone, so I get it, but ... blech.”

Laughing, she took another sip, conveniently avoiding eye contact.

“Talking about our sex lives is probably a little weird for a mom and son to do. But at the same time, sex seems to be the most common topic in Dolareido. At least in this part of South Side. And with vampires.”

This part of South Side was half of the whole damn city. Jack grew up in the other half, closer to the Carthian half.

“True, true. It’s hard to talk about anything really without it coming back to sex in Dolareido. Or with vampires.”

His mom grinned, took another sip, and raised the glass to him. “So we can avoid talking about it, at least when it comes to each other. But a little bird told me you have a very satisfying sex life, and are quite the lover.”

“Mom! The fuck!?”

“Hey! No cursing in front of your mother.”

He squirmed, groaned, took another sip, and damn well did not look her in the eye. “It’s pretty great, yes, okay? Happy? You’ve scarred your son.”

“Very.”

“Well, a little bird told me someone’s been in the spotlight of a few orgies. Center of attention and everything.”

“Jack!”

“Hey, I can play dirty, too.”

She scrunched up her nose at him, total chipmunk mode. Kinda reminded him of Natasha.

“At least I’m not building a harem.”

“It’s not a harem! It’s one girl!”

“So far.”

His turn to scrunch up his nose. “You’re a Daeva. You’ll build something like one eventually.”

“Like your girlfriend?”

“Well, I mean, she has two ghouls, and—”

“Girl ghouls. That must have been fun.”

His mom wanted to keep teasing him about his sex life. She’d changed. Either her new life was rubbing off on her, or her Daeva blood was emerging. It all mixed into a weird concoction on the subconscious, how the bloodline emerged in personalities. Jack always had a bit of a superiority complex, and he had no idea if it’d grown because it was just who he was, or because he was Ventrue.

“It was fun! Okay? Lots of fun. And you’ll get a couple ghouls you’ll get attached to that you’ll bring along to your orgies.” There, that earned another nose scrunch from her. Point for him. “I’m sure Antoinette’s told you about that.”

“Yeah. And Othello is super attached to his ghoul Madison. Only feeds off her.”

Jack leaned in toward her. “How many times have you fed off her?”

“Madison? Um ... uh ... a few times.”

“Uh huh.”

“Ok, maybe ten times.”

“In the middle of sex?”

“ ... maybe.”

He laughed. Ok, maybe this wasn’t so bad. If Mary could talk to his mom about this, maybe he could too? They were all adults. Well, he was barely an adult, but he was getting there.

“Ok well, I have one girl. You have zero. Is your first thrall going to be a boy or a girl?”

“What? I don’t know that!”

“Mom, I’d be lying if I said most girls in Dolareido weren’t, uh, swinging both ways. Which includes you, apparently.”

“That is ... not something I’ve thought about. Getting a thrall, I mean. Not even a year embraced.”

“That hasn’t stopped some vamps. Vinculum works no matter how old you are. It’s a big responsibility to have a thrall, but some Kindred, like Jessy, got themselves some sex slaves the moment they could.”

“Sex slave? That sounds horrible.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah I used to think the same thing. It’s, um, a pretty popular fantasy for a lot of people. A lot lot ... lot of people.”

His mom squirmed and looked back down at her drink. “That’s just a fantasy! We shouldn’t force things on people.”

“More than a few vampires have taken a thrall or ghoul against their will. Much as it sucks, they’re prey, and we’re the predators. We get to do what we want to them.” He didn’t like that. Julias didn’t like that. And his mom didn’t like that. “But, there are ways to offer it to them. If they say no, you can get a Ventrue to wipe their memory of the conversation. No harm no foul.”

“Antoinette told me about that.”

“And normally, you tell them they can become a vampire eventually if they accept the deal. Veronica’s on the same deal.”

“Aaaand the sex slave deal?”

“She isn’t a sex slave. She’s my thrall.”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s true! Veronica is not—”

“Master? You called?”

Veronica walked into the grand entrance lobby of the mansion, dressed in her maid uniform. Except, not the more modern, sophisticated maid uniform, which was a borderline suit. Nope, she came out in a maid uniform you’d wear if you were looking to play the role in a porn film.

Samantha blinked at her, blinked at Jack, and then back at Veronica. Veronica blinked at Samantha, at Jack, noticed Jack vehemently nodding for her to go back the way she came, and she one-eighty’d and walked away.

If there was one way he was going to die, it was from awkwardness about sex stuff around his mom.

“That, was not my idea,” he said. “Antoinette got her those clothes, and sometimes she, uh, randomly puts them on.”

“Uh huh. It won’t be long before my son has a bunch of servants to take care of his mansion and his sexual needs.”

“I have a girlfriend!”

“Who’s probably encouraging this degenerate behavior.”

“Degenerate? I—” He stopped. She was smiling. She was teasing him. So he did the only thing he could do. He laughed. He’d changed a lot, but so had she, and in more ways than her sexual tastes.

It was still kinda weird, thinking about his mom having orgies with the witches. Thinking of his mom doing sexual things to Madison, while drinking her, probably touching her, while Jacob did things to her? Yeap, skeeved him right out.

But it was still nice to talk to his mom about stuff, about life.

“I think getting a thrall might be a bit much right now,” she said. “I’m still trying to wrap my mind how to hunt, and how to make sure I avoid the sun. And Antoinette has me reading history books about cults and stuff. Takes up a lot of my time.”

“Interesting?”

“Kinda yeah. Apparently reading about dark cults scratches the same itch watching crime documentaries does.”

“Sounds like it would.”

“Yeah. The stuff I read about is pretty scary, and knowing it actually happened makes it so much more interesting to read about.” She took another sip as she looked up, hunting for a new thought. “The Prince is happy you put a stop to the war.”

“Azamel put a stop to it.”

“Aw don’t say that. Antoinette says it was mostly you.”

“I ... guess it was. I couldn’t seal the deal without Azamel.”

“I should talk with Athalia.”

“What? Why?”

“She’s lost so much, you know? She lost her daughter, and now she’s lost her mother. Mother figure.”

“Antoinette says her relationship with Daniel’s progressed quite a bit.” The Prince basically forced Daniel to go to Athalia’s side after Azamel died. Apparently it worked out pretty well. “I—”

A message buzzed his phone. Something from Antoinette.

~I would like to go out tomorrow night. To Bloodlust perhaps, with your friends, and mine.~

~Like last time?~

~Ben oui.~

~Uh, with mom?~ Please no please no. Talking about sex with his mom was hard enough. If everyone got topless again, and his mom was there, the awkwardness really would get lethal.

~Your mother has a prior arrangement.~

~Oh thank god. Sure, I’ll be there.~

~Wonderful.~

~~Antoinette~~

“So Michael and I will stop trying to kill each other. For now.” Garry shrugged, and leaned back in his chair.

Antoinette, seated at the head of her table in the grand Primogen meeting room, offered Garry and Michael thankful nods.

“I am glad you have set your differences aside.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” the Carthian said. “But tempers have cooled a bit. We can keep the peace, for now.”

“Agreed,” Michael said. “Xnomina and Terra Den will handle the expenses for damages.”

Men. Instead of solving their differences with words, they solved them with fists, punching each other as if each collision contained meaning, as if each jab was a point or counterpoint in a debate. It was a method of arguing that humans — and evidently vampires — had been using for thousands of years before the invention of language, men in particular. And perhaps there was something to it, something to the raw exchange of brute force that spoke to a part of the mind she simply did not have, or had long repressed.

If that was what it took to get these two men to speak with each other again, with perhaps a rather harsh scolding from a young Ventrue, then she doubted she could have had the success Jack’s plan had managed. She could have done something no doubt, tricked them in much the same way she had Viktor Honors and her old lover Tony. But to come to this result? Only someone young, and likely male, could have thought this plan would have worked, and be correct.

“And the dead Kindred?” Jacob asked. Once again, her old friend was dressed in his old, dark robes. To him, the Primogen meeting should have resembled the meetings of the ancient days, of vampires hiding in caves and casting dark magics around a cauldron, boiling, with human bones within.

Jacob and Antoinette both knew he looked handsome, dashing, and oddly appealing in a suit, when he chose to wear one. It was part of what made it so infuriating, as if Jacob enjoyed taunting her with the lack of a suit, more than he enjoyed wearing the robe. Though she knew he wore suits occasionally, when taking Samantha out to visit the more extravagant and expensive locations in Dolareido; it had many.

Of course, after such events, he took her back to his cave, where he and his witches indulged in an utter buffet of sexual delights. Suits had no place in an environment where sex was had upon fur pelts, and against sloped walls of stone.

“Three vamps dead,” Garry said, “each. Yeah, it sucks. But shit came out even. We’re not gonna throw fists over it.”

“Agreed,” Michael said once again. “Xnomina and Terra Den will negotiate some property contracts as well. Hopefully we can avoid issues with goods distribution, while maintaining some territory balance. The Mirrden District will be shared.”

Maria lifted a single finger from the table. “The Masquerade remains intact. All in all, for these two Gangrels to stop squabbling, with such minimal damage to Kindred, the city, and the Masquerade, is quite a feat.”

Antoinette offered the corpse woman a small nod. Even in Dolareido, where Antoinette did her best to foster a spirit of cooperation in its Kindred, elders included, they could still be quite callous with the lives of those within. Antoinette agreed with Maria, that six deaths was ultimately a small loss. Jack would not agree.

“Finally,” Jacob said. “I was worried about stepping outside my house, and getting shot up in a drive by.”

After that, the meeting went on as per usual. Maria spoke of the Lancea et Sanctum and her progress in reviving it. A dozen Kindred now came to the cathedral, and listened to her and Damien speak of Longinus and the supposed decree passed down to all vampires. Utter stupidity, but Antoinette let her speak. After, Garry and Michael spoke of the finer details of territory proposals, and how the Carthians and Invictus could handle the borders better, such as at the Border Bar.

Garry and Michael knew of Jacob’s potential allegiance to Black Blood, but they did not so much as look the man’s way; no more than usual. All the Primogen were talented actors, a necessary skill that came to any vampire that wished to live for centuries. Antoinette however found herself looking at her old friend, and doing her best to read his expression. He had an advantage, with a bandage wrapped around his head to hide his empty eye sockets, but regardless, she tried. Nothing. The only expression she found was his usual pleasant, teasing grins, a few aimed at her, no doubt meant to tease her over how he had somehow started dating her childe, and her lover’s mother.

Quite the intricate web. Quite the soap opera.

Everything was back to normal then. The Primogen conspired against each other, as they always did. Garry and Michael would no doubt pounce any opportunity they found to destroy the other, or at least castrate their position in Dolareido, but for the moment they put their claws away. Maria continued to slowly revive the infernal church. Jacob teased the three covenants over their silly goals, but otherwise did nothing to reveal his own goals. Antoinette did the same. The Circle of the Crone and the Ordo Dracul did not have goals relevant to Dolareido’s politics.

Forever Antoinette played arbiter, acknowledging whose arguments made sense, and who would receive her permission to carry on. The city had changed much, since the death of Viktor and Tony, and again now that Lucas was dead and Maria was given permission to revive the Lancea et Sanctum. While each meeting tested her patience, she had to admit, it was a pleasant meeting, compared to the past. Progress, in a strange, hampered way, but progress nonetheless.

Through it all, not a single hint of Black Blood was mentioned. No talk of tears. No talk of dark rituals being cast in her city. Above all, no notion that anything was out of place, except for what could be observed naturally, that the werewolves continued to hunt for strange things.

She had already spoken with Garry Tones and Michael McDonald in private. They both agreed to keep an eye open, but they also both agreed that preventing dark rituals being cast across realms was not within their skill set. To their credit, they would try, and both realized how careful they had to be. All in all, a great step forward.

She had a moment to relax, for the first time in a long time.

Tonight, she was going to have her little Ventrue, and every man and woman nearby, Kindred or otherwise, squirming.

“You seem oddly excited,” Elaine said. She joined the Prince in the changing room, and while the room was filled with dresses for Antoinette, Elaine now had many. There was no shortage of ways for a rich woman to acquire new dresses in Dolareido, and she brought them to Antoinette’s tower, by the dozens.

“I am. Despite the troubles that remain, things have been quite peaceful in my city for two weeks. Not only that, all the Primogen are cooperating. As well as can be expected, at least.”

“Your little Ventrue accomplished much.”

“With the help of Azamel.”

Elaine nodded as she slipped out of her suit, and admired her naked body in front of one of the many mirrors. Hangers decorated metal bars, each with a dress, all lined against the walls of black marble with white veins. The lighting above offered powerful contrast, allowing for even the most untalented eye to notice what dresses created what lines and curves.

“The old monster was nothing more than an annoyance the last time she visited your city, yes?”

“Oui, very much so. But she spent her last moments helping my love, and my city.” Antoinette came up behind Elaine, admired the tall, thin and curvy blonde in the mirror, before she looked to the dresses at the side. What dress should her friend wear tonight?

“I suppose even an old fossil can change.”

“You think she changed?” Antoinette plucked a black dress from the rack, and stepped behind Elaine. Her friend took it, stepped into it, and pulled it up over her body, eyes in the mirror watching how the soft, thin, black fabric hugged her curves.

“I do, for her family. Athalia became the daughter she never had, if I had to guess.”

“And Mark?”

“The son, someone she relied on.”

“And Fiona?”

“Her granddaughter.”

“And Sándor?”

Elaine grinned in the mirror as she tied the back straps of the stress. “The son-in-law she found herself forced to pass her legacy to.”

The roles were not perfect analogies, and yet the comparison was accurate for how Azamel likely treated the other Begotten. Poor Sándor.

“Fiona will be joining us tonight. Perhaps she will speak of Azamel.” Antoinette looked over Elaine’s head, admiring her friend’s reflection, but they both shook their head after a few moments. Elaine stepped out of the dress, and Antoinette hunted for a new one.

“Quite a treat, little Fiona. Her enthusiasm, her joviality, her body.”

“Damien is a lucky man.” Antoinette found another dress, and they repeated the process. “I hope he has been a solid foundation for Fiona to stand on, as she weathers the storm of Azamel’s death.”

“And Daniel to Athalia.”

Ah, a quick sneer in the mirror from her old friend. Antoinette laughed, and set both hands upon Elaine’s shoulders as Elaine tied the straps of the black dress behind her neck.

“Keep trying, old friend. Perhaps you will sneak your way into their bed?”

“I somehow doubt Athalia will be willing.”

“Then you must seduce Athalia.”

“Ha, easier said than done. She does not like me. And I am no Daeva.”

“Are you not?” Antoinette chuckled as she pressed her chest against Elaine’s back, set her chin on the woman’s shoulder, and hugged her around her stomach. Elaine was tall, but Antoinette was taller, and she smiled at her friend in the mirror as she slid her hands up Elaine’s exposed stomach. The dress was barely more than a flimsy strip of fabric across her breasts, that left her back and stomach exposed, with straps that cut down across her sides to connect to a minuscule skirt.

“I am beautiful, and direct. But to seduce someone like Athalia, now that she has Daniel, I believe I would need subtlety. Have you ever known me to be subtle?”

“Not in the least. But with time, I am sure Athalia will grow more comfortable with her relationship, and more comfortable with Dolareido’s ways. I am confident you could seduce her, with enough time, and alcohol.”

She laughed. “Ah yes, she is not Kindred is she? Alcohol will go a long way.”

“But give her time. She mourns for Azamel. In a couple months, perhaps renew your attempts to seduce Daniel, and include Athalia in your efforts.”

“She is a terribly attractive creature, is she not? A bit tall, quite slim, the dark skin, the long black hair, the soft yet thin face?”

“And eyes of ice.”

“Indeed. I do wonder what it would be like, to sink my teeth into her, perhaps while she sits on your sheriff.”

“If you wish to make that fantasy a reality,” Antoinette said, “you must learn to seduce her mind, not just her body.”

“Then I am afraid I am lost.”

Antoinette laughed, and undid the knot Elaine had tied. She slid the dress down her friend’s body, and cast a glance to the door as quiet footsteps announced someone approaching.

“Jack, my love. How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Which was, of course, not fine. “I—” His eyes opened wide as his gaze found the two women.

Antoinette was still dressed in her suit, but Elaine was now quite naked as she stepped out of the dress, wearing literally nothing. Naturally, without any attempt to communicate their devious plan, Elaine turned slightly to face her body toward Jack, and Antoinette turned with her. She set her hands against Elaine’s stomach once again, and slid them up to cup her friend’s delightfully huge breasts.

“We were trying on dresses, my love.”

“Uh huh.” He stood there, a half grin on his face, unbelieving. Though his grin faded away as his eyes locked onto Elaine’s bare bust, and how Antoinette’s fingers slowly caressed her old friend’s pale vampire skin. And as Jack stared, Antoinette made sure to gently nudge the breasts up, hard enough they rippled lightly with their mass, before gravity molded them to her palms yet again.

It was the ultimate method to hypnotize her little Ventrue, and it never failed. The sight of a large breast rippling was his bane. But even as the boy stared on, Antoinette could see only a portion of the usual enthusiasm she would normally find. Still, a portion was better than none.

“Truly.” Nodding, Antoinette let go of her friend, re-racked the dress, and plucked another. “It is often better to trust the opinion of another’s eye over your own, where fashion for the self is concerned. Years of seeing yourself in the mirror distorts reality.”

“Indeed,” Elaine said, and she held up her arms while Antoinette slid the new dress down over her head, careful with her wavy blonde hair, of course.

Jack walked up to them, and sat upon a nearby couch. He attempted to avert his gaze, but after a few moments, he could not help but watch the display through the mirror. Considering Elaine now turned every motion into a sensuous, subtle dance as she slipped on the dress, Antoinette could not blame him.

They settled on a dress that consisted of a short skirt that reached up the back, tied in the front around the breasts, and also connected at the armpit for sleeves, while leaving both the shoulders and stomach exposed. The color? Nude. A dark white with a hint of flesh, almost the color of skin, meant to be worn with silver or white jewelry. It went well with her blonde hair.

“Uh, no underwear?” Jack asked.

Elaine shrugged. “The skirt covers everything. What use are panties or thongs, if others cannot see them?”

“I suppose hygiene isn’t a good answer. We’re vampires.”

The older Ventrue smiled and nodded, before she opened one of the large boxes sitting upon a vanity desk, exposing its many layers that raised sideways to show off its contents. Jewelry, necklaces and bracelets and rings, for arms and wrists, fingers and toes, and waists and throats. Tens of thousands of dollars worth of jewelry.

Antoinette had necklaces worth everything in that box combined, glamorous, and garish. She rarely wore them.

“What will you be wearing tonight?” Antoinette asked as she slipped out of her suit jacket.

“A suit.” He tried to say it gently, she knew, but a touch of frustration showed through. Not with her, but with his memories, with Azamel’s death, and the violence he suffered. With everything.

Poor boy. Azamel put a finger specifically on an aspect of his personality he suffered with, and now he battled against it, quite consciously. A battle she doubted he could win.

So she would distract him. And distract herself. Weeks, months of pouring through tomes, hundreds of experiments that summoned a myriad of spirits, and dozens of rituals tested. Combined with countless hours managing each and every report from her thrall spies, watching and monitoring Carthian and Invictus, and Lancea et Sanctum activities, she had had little time to simply stop, and go out. Perhaps she could host another ball for all paranormals in Dolareido?

No, not yet. Some Kindred would still be angry over the deaths of fellow Kindred. But soon. A month or three.

“Of course, a suit.” She chuckled as she slipped off the blouse, and the bra. Jack watched through the mirror, eyes locked onto her heavy bust, and she smiled at him in the reflection. “But perhaps a different color than usual? And without the tie, I imagine. Open chest.”

“I’m not exactly tall or big enough to really do that. The werewolves, sure, but me?”

“Well, that is half the joy of a suit, my love. It accentuates the shoulders.”

Elaine laughed, slipped on a thin silver necklace, and walked over to Jack. She sat beside him on the couch, reached over, and slipped a hand in through his shirt, undoing the first two buttons so she could caress his sternum.

“It is true women prefer a tall man. The fabled six feet.”

“Hey.” The poor boy scrunched up his nose as he squinted at his great grandsire.

“You are a small man, but with a wonderful physique. Show it off, childe of mine. Yes, women prefer tall, but they will also be delightfully surprised that the little man has taken care of himself physically, to the point of acquiring the body of a professional athlete.” She grinned, and leaned in, snuggling to his side as she teased her fingers up and down his chest. “And women find a man who has the determination and will to master his own body quite attractive.”

Jack squirmed a little, but did not stop Elaine. “I built the body, sure, but I only maintained it for like, a week, before I was embraced. I was hungry all the damn time before. I don’t do a thing to maintain it now.”

“The joys of being Kindred. Enjoy it, childe of mine.”

“Elaine,” Antoinette said, “come here and choose a dress for me, if you please.”

“Very well.” Elaine ran a finger along Jack’s neck, before she strutted her way over, each step ensuring Jack’s eyes drifted to her round derrière. Depressed as the boy may be, he could not help but watch. Understandable, considering it was Elaine and Antoinette toying with him.

“What color?” Antoinette asked, and she gestured to the hanging dresses beside her.

“Black.”

“Always with the black.”

“Black contrasts your white hair.”

“That does not mean I wish to wear only black for the rest of eternity.”

“Then you should not have altered your hair to be permanently white.”

“Perhaps I should dye it to be blonde?”

“Imitation is the greatest form of flattery.” Rolling her eyes, Elaine plucked a dress from the rack, and as Antoinette slipped out of her skirt and underwear, Elaine slipped the dress on over her head.

A loose thing, backless, with tiny shoulder straps. Barely more than a tiny, thin towel, meant to drape over the breasts, and hang before tightening to the waist and wrapping the hips and ass. It meant she would not be able to lean forward without her breasts falling free of the dress. Not that she usually minded, but it was an annoying dance, to constantly be aware of one’s posture.

Antoinette looked to Jack in the mirror. His eyes had fallen, and his mind drifted elsewhere, likely to dark thoughts.

“My love, would you like for Ashley and Julee to come, and pleasure you while Elaine and I change? This could take a few moments yet.”

“No thanks.”

Elaine chuckled as she looked to Jack in the mirror. “You could always masturbate while watching us change. There is a certain charm in that.”

“No thanks.”

The boy’s great grandsire turned and faced him. “I could take care of you, while she changes?”

“Girls, I’m alright, okay? Just thinking.”

Girls? Antoinette chuckled, slipped the dress off, and Elaine found her a new one. Similar to the last, this one surrounded and hugged her bust tight. Decidedly less slutty, and a surprise, coming from her old friend.

“Forgive us, my love. But it saddens us to see you morose.” Antoinette slipped out of the dress. “I feel like exposing skin tonight, but I do not want to have to dance with each step.”

“I see I see.” Elaine put the dress away, and found another.

She stepped into the dress, and pulled the black fabric up over her hips where it fit snug. The long, wide straps connected at the back of the skirt, crossed at the chest, and hooked behind the neck, the X over the chest hugging each breast snug. It was also just barely, slightly see-through.