Chapter 2

Angel Wings Marketing Associates was a full service branding agency known for having its finger on the millennial pulse. The open-office sea of desks sported a haphazard frenetic spattering of color, fashion, and electronica. Hipsters mingled with basic girls and quirky fun youths who had a voice and a message to sell. Hungry eager young women and some fashionable men brought their visions for talking to their generations and the next one coming up. Even the CEO, herself only twenty nine and coming (unknowingly) to the end of her tenure, worshipped at the shrine of youth like all the rest. Most didn’t last more than two years, yet here was Emily positively ancient at twenty seven. Even her boss, Shawnice, was four years her junior, a fact which stung like salt in the wound. Emily prepared herself for humiliation when arrived to see her boss leaning against her desk sipping on a mocha double whipped latte.

There was a pile of copy she was going to have to get done and she was going to have to work through lunch. But aside from that, she was relieved not to get a dressing down, since Shawnice was more taken with her attire than recriminations.

“That’s a really cute blazer by the way? I like the long cut.”

“Oh? Yeah, it’s kind of fun.”

“Great shoes, too,” she said with more than a little surprise. “Are those Miu Miu’s?”

“Oh, I dunno...”

“I never usually go for oxford flats because they’re so plain, you know? But my Atwoods are just killing me, and those are actually totally cute.”

Emily slipped her foot out of the shoe, “So they’re Wietzman’s, she offered up reading the label.”

“Wietzman’s, oh, so presh! Well, you’re lookin’ good girl, keep it up.”

“Yeah, you too,” she waved toodles to her boss who bopped away. Emily smiled and tried not to think about from where her clothes had come.

She looked at her office phone and thought about calling the police. ‘Wouldn’t they be completely helpful in this situation? Poor homeless girl accuses multimillionaire of rape. Oh, and just forget about mentioning his mystical powers completely. Nope.’

For the next few hours she focused on filling out copy for a few other people’s concepts. Typesetting, messaging, along with framing for various shapes of banner ads. She was a generalist, having been there long enough to learn various skill sets. Yet she never seemed to break through with her own ideas. She took five minutes to breathe as she ate a yogurt and nuts for lunch. Her fingers trembled and it suddenly struck her how terribly ravenous she was. Thankfully, this was the kind of office where every other sandwich ended up half eaten. She only had to walk 4 cubes until she found Pablo with a half eaten turkey club. He was glad to give it up, since he was starting to suffer from carb regrets.

“You sure?”

“Honey,” he replied, “If I go beyond a 28 waist, I’m not going to fit into anything, and they don’t pay me enough to look this good twice over, nn-kay? Trust me, you’re doing me a favor girly girl. And damn, what evil denizen of darkness did you make a pact with, you look goooood.”

She forced a giggle and a smile.

“Bitch, I’m serious. Tell me, and don’t say cardio, cause I’m allergic.”

She shrugged, “Bad breakup and life falling apart?”

“Oh, the drama diet. Tried it, hated it. Here, take this, you need it more than me honey.”

After half a decent meal, the world seemed a bit sharper and in focus. She thought back to the morning’s events. To tell the tale would have made it sound like a complete horror show. The strange thing was, she couldn’t help but remember the happy floaty bubbly feeling. That and being utterly turned on by Preston and his concubine Katerina’s caresses. No, that wasn’t what she needed to think about. What had he said? Three days? Well there was no way in hell she was going back there in four thousand years much less four days. Kyle and the couch was fine. She could handle him. Preston? There was no way.

Around 4:15, Pablo swung by her cube, “Hey bitch, this came for you.” He dropped an envelope on her desk.

“Thanks, P.” Her name was written on it, but she didn’t recognize the handwriting. She opened it up to find a letter and as she pulled that out a jet black credit card fell out of it onto her desk with a clat.

“Mmm-hmm, and that delivery boy of yours was a tall drink of handsome too.”

Her blood froze, “Where - is he still here?”

“Mmm, naw he just dropped it off, said thank you, and left. Is that your new thing?”

“God, I hope not.”

He rolled his eyes adding to his departure, “Lord, you girls don’t know how good you have it.”

She wanted to tear up the letter and burn it, but knowing he was nearby left her feeling especially fearful to defy him. He could be anywhere, he could be watching her right now. She took a breath to steady herself and opened the letter:

The card is for tonight, feel free to go shopping for a nice dress, my treat.

Then you’ll get your first gift.

Enjoy yourself, sweetheart.

When she read the word sweetheart, she heard his voice echo in her head. She screwed her eyes shut and she could feel him pressing into her mind. There was no other way she could think to describe it, than to say he was pushing his way in. She tried to fight against it, but she felt herself fold under his insistence and then a deep connection bloomed. She could feel him, not his hands or lips, but his presence, his essence, or his soul connecting to her. He was near, she was certain of that. The tension flowed out of her body and she felt a vague floating tingling. Unbidden, a languid smile spread across her face. She picked it up the and saw it was a credit card for someone by the name of “Brandi Flowers.” She tucked it into her purse and walked out.

Adriel’s smile fell, “Wait what?”

Preston Fletcher Harrison turned to Adriel with a poker face. Deadpan he said, “Have something to add?”

Adriel shifted uncomfortably, “No, it’s cool. Story time.”

She knew she had to get out of there and felt so much better now that she was outside of the office and away from that horrible man. She was going to be fine. Now she even had a credit card. Well, if she was going to be bribed, she wasn’t going to give him back his money. That was his loss, she’d just use it to buy some nice clothes for work and he could go fuck himself. On the way to Nordstrom’s, she swung by her favorite boutique for window shopping. It was obscenely expensive, nothing she could ever afford. ‘Unless... ‘

It could be fun to play like the rich for one night or at least to look around a bit. Against her better instincts and the dark voice berating her in her head, she entered the shop.

Two women, dressed quite fashionably in black with hair up tight and well sprayed turned to her. One nodded to the other who then approached her. “Welcome to Hanners Collections, I’m Teresa, are you looking for something in particular today?”

“Oh no, just browsing,” she instinctively replied.

Teresa repressed a smirk, “Well we’re not really a rack kind of place. But if you like I can give you directions to some very affordable nice places in the area.”

‘Ooh, that stung a little bit.’ Emily looked back at the smiling woman dripping with superiority. She turned her shoulders to face her and dug into her purse, “You know what, I change my mind. How much can I get with this?”

Teresa took the black card and raised a brow, but went to the register. That seemed to shut her up for the moment. Emily took the opportunity to look at some of the beautiful display dresses, and the impossible fabrics and craftwork.

Teresa came back with the card and a glass of champagne on a tray, “Champagne, Miss Flowers? Are you looking for a new wardrobe for the season?”

“Maybe, we’ll see what suits my fancy,” she replied delighting in the miraculous change in status. Teresa had gone from a superior prig to a sycophant in 10 seconds flat.

“Of course, Miss Flowers, please, come with me and our seamstress will take your measurements while we show you a few of our new pieces for the fall.”

She followed Teresa to the back where she shed her jacket and sipped champagne while Anne the seamstress fussed over her and Teresa fawned over her. “You have a beautiful silhouette, Miss Flowers, a lot of our dresses may fit you without alteration.”

She rolled out a variety of outfits and dresses, and Emily relaxed and luxuriated in the joy of all the beautiful clothes. But then she saw it. It was a flash of brilliant magenta in the latest rack. “There, let me see that one,” she announced.

“Oh, very good eye, Ma’am. This is a form fitting midi-dress, perfect for the season. I love the high jewel neckline with all of the straps that fan out to your shoulders, it gives you that sexy flirty skin, without any tacky deep cleavage. Some women like that, but for me, I like the coverage up top. If you’ll take a look at the back here, isn’t that gorgeous. The straps along the shoulders fan out and for a beautiful v-back. The fabric is double knit giving it that perfect stretch without bunching. Plus with your figure, you really want a well fitted dress. You’ve got it, you may as well flaunt it.”

Teresa droned on about it, but Emily didn’t need to be sold anymore. It called to her, the perfect combination of sophistication and eye catching. “Can I try it on?”

“Uhm, of course, but it comes in a variety of fabrics and we custom craft your dresses for the perfect personal fit.”

It looked so perfect, she had to try it on right away. Emily peeled off her white tee and dropped her trousers unashamed as Teresa handed her champagne back and Anne hurried to prepare the dress. Emily stepped into it and Anne slipped it up her supple legs. Realizing it wouldn’t go with the bra she had on, she slipped that right off before they slid the straps up to her shoulders. The arcs of the neck ran perfectly from her mid line sweeping out just above the tops of her breasts giving her full coverage. Anne zipped her up with ease. Teresa was right, the fabric did really stretch and contour perfectly to her body.

“Oh my,” Teresa gasped. Anne nodded with a wide smile.

“It’s perfect.” Emily looked at herself in the mirror, and Teresa hurried off to find some shoes to match. She found the dress that was absolutely perfect when suddenly she felt a warm wave wash over her body, then flow into her breasts where it pulsed. Her cheeks flushed as her skin of her breasts tingled with a delicious warmth. Not quite a throb or an itch, it was a pleasant buzz that sparked pleasure. “Oh wow,” Emily gasped, as she held onto the mirror to steady herself. She grazed herself just along her sternum to the base of her neck, but even that gave her a thrilling trill of pleasure.

Teresa returned, “Now, I love these, these are Manolo Blahniks I matched the sizing with your Stuart Wietzman’s so they should be a perfect fit. They are nude, but don’t worry about the color, we will dye them to match.”

Teresa was going to go on, but Emily desperately needed to get out of the store, get home, and maybe take a cold shower. “I love them,” she gasped with pleasure, “I’ll take them.”

Teresa smiled bright, “I’ll pack them up to be dye-”

“No, no need, I’ll take them nude, I think I’ll wear this out actually.”

Teresa smiled, “Wonderful, I think we can use this as a base piece to plan out the rest of your new look. I’m thinking fun and flirty fashion forward sophistication. Oh, this is so exciting, isn’t it?”

“Actually, I think I’ll just take these for tonight, can you ring me up?”

Teresa was crestfallen, “Ah- uhm, of course. Let’s ... get your old things packed up.”

Emily was glad to get out of the store. Teresa even gave her a card with her personal cell phone so when she wanted to come back and keep shopping, anytime day or night, Teresa could be there for her. She looked at her purse and thought about the card inside. She never did figure out what her credit limit was, but from Teresa’s reactions, it was probably nothing she should worry about hitting tonight. That wasn’t the highest priority on her mind at the moment, though. Her nipples crinkled and spiked straight through her dress and the little blips of pleasure she felt with each step were both delightful and a bit concerning.

The evening was getting cooler and her coat was in her bag, so she kept walking faster to warm up while she thought. Alone in New York with an insane amount of credit at her disposal. What else could she do? She could see Hamilton, if she could get a scalper to take credit online. No, Broadway was too far down for her to get to the show on time. She turned a left while pondering what other ways she could spend the son of a bitch’s money. ‘Well, I could buy brand new luggage and a plane ticket. Except he’d know where I was going so scratch that.’ She bit her lip as her nipples trilled again in pleasure as she stepped up on the curb. ‘Wow, that’s ... nice.’ She blushed a little feeling the exquisite secret thrill coming from her body. ‘Where could I go, if I had all the money in this credit card? Maybe a tropical island, spend all my days on the beach drinking mojitos and getting Alonzo the cabana boy to massage suntan lotion all over my body... ‘ She rolled her eyes at her silly little fantasy, no, if she was being serious, she’d probably figure some way to get a cash advance, which if he wasn’t a complete idiot he would have blocked. But assuming he was a complete idiot and she could get a fake passport she could get out, but she wouldn’t be able to bring the cash. ‘Unless ... unless, I got a cashier’s check made out to myself. Or a bearer bond. No, a cashier’s check makes more sense - except if the passport gets busted, I lose all the money. Crap that feels so good!’ Although she knew it ridiculous, she rather felt like her breasts were positively glowing with pleasure. She crossed the street again suddenly much more aware of the people all around her. Usually walking through the streets was a matter of navigating throngs and wearing the resting bitch face mask. There were still people about, though not as many as during rush hour. Still she wondered if anyone walking along knew the exquisite little delights she was feeling.

She stopped and lay a hand on her chest as her jaw dropped ‘Wait what am I doing?’ She just haphazardly walked a bunch of blocks with no idea where she was even going. She turned to her left to see she was in front of a beautiful french-american bistro, The Percival. She smirked thinking about the card. “Alright, you jackass, let’s see if we can rack up a bill for you.” With a delightfully light and happy feeling, she waltzed up the steps and in. She was unashamed to tell the hostess she was just one tonight and sat down at a table for two close to the bar. She’d been offered a seat by the window, but decided she didn’t want to be watched from outside.

‘Okay, let’s make the most of a bad situation. Why shouldn’t I get a little treat?’

But there was a dark voice in the back of her mind, ‘I don’t deserve this, I didn’t earn this, I’m not good enough to be here, they’ll figure it out, I’m not Brandi Flowers, I wish I was d-’ Emily twisted her neck to the side visibly squirming and she forced her mind to shut up.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” It was her waiter with a concerned look. She’d apparently let her inner voice affect her demeanor this time.