“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, Chloë,” I groused.

It was Friday morning, and we were in our suite at the Hyatt. She had just finished helping me put on my costume, and had flat-out refused to let me look in the mirror until she was satisfied. Now she stood on tiptoe behind me, her hands over my eyes.

“Okay, open,” she whispered, lips brushing my ear. Her hands dropped away as she moved beside me.

I opened my eyes – and stared.

I was Qian Renxue, one of Chloë’s favorite donghua (Chinese anime) characters. Or as close as we could get without using actual magic.

The “real” Qian had wings, which obviously were impractical for navigating convention crowds. So instead, Chloë had built them from organza and wire, shaped into sweeping, featherlike arcs that flared from my body. Layers of pale tulle drifted down from them, light and airy. Standing still, they veiled everything. But when I moved ... the fabric came alive – parting, flowing, revealing.

“Seigneur,” I muttered.

Chloë had subtly airbrushed feathers across the organza – hundreds of them, maybe more – so delicately that they only really appeared when the light caught them. The whole thing shimmered.

Soft. Ethereal.

On my head sat a gemmed circlet that was cleverly shaped to give the impression of smaller wings, sweeping back from my head. Centered on my forehead was an ornament of gold and smoky quartz, roughly diamond-shaped, that had a distinctly elven vibe.

And then there was my hair.

Chloë had talked me into letting Amber – my stylist – take it several shades lighter – nearly platinum. She’d also added some extensions, which Chloë gigglingly called ‘connect-a-hair’. It now hung in a thick pale cascade all the way down my back. When I turned my head, it moved with the same fluid grace as my ‘wings’.

A pair of white lace gauntlet gloves covered me from elbow to the back of each hand, held in place by a finger loop. We’d seen them in a bridal shop window, and Chloë had dragged me inside. And if that hadn’t caused a few awkward moments with the shop owner!

A sheer gray stocking encased one leg from thigh to ankle, and beneath the drifting layers of fabric, a white corset hugged my body, paired with a matching high-waisted bikini bottom. The corset left my shoulders and upper chest bare, yet somehow managed to hold everything in place.

Mostly.

Technically ... it covered me. In practicality ... not so much.

I watched my reflection as I slowly shifted back and forth, and felt a slow, dangerous smile start to form.

This might be fun after all.

“Oh my God,” Chloë breathed.

I glanced down at her. She was staring at me like I’d just stepped out of her fantasy – eyes wide, lips parted – completely gone.

Oh yeah, that look right there? Made it all worth it.

“You’re so gorgeous,” she moaned. “I’m gonna hafta wear a panty liner...”

Her blush was adorable.

“Don’t say stuff like that, Chloë, or I’ma ruin your costume, tearing it off you before we even make it downstairs!”

I was devouring her with my eyes, like a hungry cheetah stalking its prey. And what a cute and tender morsel she was!

She gulped, eyes wide and locked on mine.

She had gotten dressed before me; hers was a bit easier to put on.

Chloë was Tang Zichen. Dressed in a deep crimson cheongsam, very form-fitting, sleeveless, and barely reaching mid-thigh. A cheeky little diamond cut-out showed off her very fetching décolletage. It was slit up both sides, but her modesty was guarded by forest-green boy shorts. She had gotten hair extensions as well, but hers was pulled back in a high ponytail, with two soft tendrils framing her face perfectly.

She had foregone her character’s long spear – again, crowd considerations – in favor of a Chinese sword, its tassel peeking up over one shoulder.

I couldn’t help but stare right back. Honestly, she looked lethal and lovely.

J/J/J/J

So, the big question ... why were we dressed up like this? Well, as I hinted earlier, somehow Chloë had talked me into attending this year’s Anime Central, which was probably the biggest anime convention in the Midwest. And by ‘big’, I mean a three-day event with over 30,000 attendees! Nothing like jumping right into the deep end, huh?

Chloë grinned, cheeks flushed. “Thank you so much for coming with me!”

Part of her ‘convincing’ me to come was practical. She had always wanted to go, but living at home with her parents, grandmother, aunt, sister ... made it ... difficult. She told me how frustrating it was, that whenever she tried to take a vacation, her mother would guilt her into staying home to look after her grandmother or her niece and nephew. And they really didn’t understand her love of anime.

The other part of her convincing me – and the more effective part, I’ll shamelessly admit – involved a lot of licking.

J/J/J/J

We had checked in the previous evening, leaving work after a half-day on Thursday. The convention ran Friday through Sunday, and Chloë was beyond excited to get started.

We were just putting the last bag in the car, and she was leaning into the back of her little SUV, butt sticking out like ... well. If you’ve seen Chloë’s butt, you know.

I leaned in, wrapped my arms around her from behind, and whispered, “Ma petite chatonne, toute excitée, ” before spinning her around and pulling her in for a kiss. Speaking French to Chloë always got her going, and she kissed me back, before wiggling free and stomping her foot.

“Stop distracting me! Please, babe, I want to get going!”

Then she gave me that smoky look. “You can do whatever you want to me once we’re there,” she whispered.

Sounded like a pretty good deal to me.

The two-and-a-half-hour drive had gone smoothly enough, but the registration desk was an absolute madhouse, with so many conventioneers checking in.

Finally arriving at our room, the bellhop unloaded the last bag, and I tipped him. Smirking, when he almost dropped it; he was staring pretty hard at Chloë.

“Hot, isn’t she?” I winked. The young man turned beet red and fled.

Meanwhile, Chloë was spinning in circles, arms outstretched.

“This room is amazing!” she swooned. Then, she ran and jumped on the bed. Bouncing on her knees, she gave me a sultry look.

“Look at this bed! It’s huge!” Then shyly, “Do you ... wanna maybe try it out?”

I tilted my head. “I dunno,” I teased, “I’m not all that tired, actually.”

Chloë gaped at me. Then her sexy smile returned. “I don’t think I’m ready for sleep yet either.” And she looked hopefully at me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

I took a step toward her. “I guess I could have dessert first...”

J/J/J/J

So. How exactly did we get here? No, not the convention – but us, together. And what had changed to give Chloë the confidence to finally break free from her mother? I guess a little history is in order.

This is going to be hard to believe, but last autumn I discovered that Chloë – who, at the time, worked for me – had been ... entertaining herself in my office.

Yes. That.

Yeah, I know, right?

After I got over my shock, and then ahem reprimanded her (several times, if I recall, and oh yes, it did involve spanking), I sent her home early with explicit instructions and my address.

We spent the entire weekend at my condo. What can I say? She’s a smexy little minx, and I hadn’t gotten laid in months!

She arrived at my door, so vulnerably eager, hesitant, and uncertain, all rolled up in one petite, blushing package.

She told me later that her heart was in her throat, not knowing which version of me she was going to get – the firm, commanding presence from earlier that day ... or the calm, reassuring leader she was used to at work.

As it turns out, she got both.

I think we surprised each other. Because by the end of that first weekend, I found myself asking if she wanted to stay.

She’s first-generation Chinese American, with long black hair and a killer body – tiny, but killer – apparently, she spent a lot of time at the gym, instead of “finding a nice Chinese boy”, which is what her mother thought she was doing.

She lived with her extended family, despite being 22. Hmmm ... she’s going to be 23 soon, what to do about her birthday...

Sorry, got distracted.

Anyway, her family wasn’t terribly traditional, but Chloë was still pretty deep in the closet, certain she’d be disowned if her sexuality became known. That first weekend, we concocted a story about a serious issue at work that required her to fly out at once.

That excuse bought us a few days, but by midweek, she admitted that she needed to tell her family something.

When she said that, I sat her down on the sofa and parked my butt on the coffee table directly in front of her.

“Kitten,” I began, taking her hands, “tell them something? You mean another evasion?”

She hesitated.

“Wouldn’t it be better to tell them the truth?” Then, even quieter, “Are you ashamed of me?”

I admit, I was pushing for a reaction.

Her eyes went wide, and she flew into my arms, nearly knocking me over. “No!” Her face was buried in my neck. “No, no, no, never,” she sobbed.

Well, now I felt like an asshole. Maybe I had pushed a little too hard. I held her close and shushed her, stroking her until she calmed.

Tipping her chin up with a finger, I kissed her. Softly at first, then more deeply. She melted against me, hands threading into my hair, tongue dueling with mine. My fingers searched for buttons, tugged at hems, and before long, she lay before me. Her sultry gaze locked on me as my eyes roved over her body.

“Parfaite... ” I hummed. She needed the reassurance, and I ‘apologized’ – twice – before she finally collapsed, a boneless puddle of satisfied girl.

After her breathing finally returned to normal, she sighed a little and spoke.

“You’re right,” she said. “I need to be honest with them.”

I waited, slowly rubbing her back. “No time like the present?”

She gave me a small nod.

I smiled at her. “Proud of you, kitten. Do you want to go alone? Or would you like me to come with?”

Her determined look morphed into little-girl vulnerability. “Could you ... please come? I feel stronger when you’re with me.”

“Of course. I’ve always got your back, you know that, right?” I searched her eyes.

She nodded, offering me a tentative smile.

“And your front, too,” I teased, tweaking a nipple.

She gasped, giving me a heated look.

A little regretfully, I pulled back and asked, “Do you want to go right now? Or maybe call them, give them a heads up?”

She sighed. “Let’s do it before I chicken out. I’ll call them from the car.”

“You got it. But ... maybe put some clothes on, ouais?”

J/J/J/J

I could feel Chloë’s apprehension as a palpable physical presence, growing stronger the closer we got to her home. She looked like she might throw up as we pulled up in front.

“Baby, we don’t have to do this now.” I really was starting to become concerned, and reached for her hand.

She glanced at me. “Thanks, but ... let’s get it over with.” She looked green and clung to me as we walked up to the door.

Finally, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Hello? We’re here,” she called out, releasing my hand. I followed as she stepped down a short hallway that led into the house, as two small children came hurtling toward us – a boy of about seven and a girl a few years younger.

“Auntie Chloë, Auntie Chloë!” they chorused. But seeing me, they skidded to a stop.

She quickly knelt. “Timmy, Tina, this is my friend Mel. Can you say hi?”

They mumbled greetings. Then, as Chloë held out her arms, they rushed to her, but kept a gimlet eye on me. While Chloë chattered to them, asking what mischief they’d gotten into while she was gone, two older women appeared. Well, one older, and one much older. Had to be her mother and grandmother.

Chloë’s mother began craning her neck to see around me. “Where you boyfren?” Then, finally focusing on me, she demanded, “Who dis? You say you bring boyfren!”

Chloë pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mother, I said I was bringing someone to meet you. I never said ‘boyfriend’. I ... I don’t have a boyfriend. This is Mel. She’s my ... my...”

I stepped forward, offering my most professional smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hu. Chloë and I work together.”

Her mother – for all of Chloë’s characterizations – was no fool. She studied her daughter, glanced again at me, then quietly asked something in what I assumed was Mandarin.

Chloë shook her head. Pushing her shoulders back, she said firmly, “She’s my girlfriend. I’m gay, Mom.”

“WHAAAT? GAY? What you mean, she your girlfren?” And she started spouting off in rapid-fire Mandarin.

Shocking everyone, the oldest person present – who, of course, was Chloë’s grandmother – started shaking her fists in the air triumphantly. Smacking Chloë’s mom right on the ass, she cackled, “Hah! I knew it! I tell you! You owe me five dollah!”

Mrs. Hu jumped, squawked, and rubbed her behind, staring bemusedly at her mother. Off to one side, a younger version of Chloë was hiding a grin behind one hand. Her sister, I guessed.

Meanwhile, Grandma caressed Chloë’s cheek with a gnarled hand. In an incredibly soft tone, she asked, “You happy, granddaughter?”

Chloë nodded, stunned. “Yes, wàipó. Happiest ever.”

“Good.” The elderly woman smiled at her, then turned to look up at me. “You promise take good care of my māomāo?”

I just nodded dumbly. This was so not what I expected.

She smiled softly at both of us. Then adopting an annoyed tone, she complained loudly, “Āiyā, why you so tall? Make my neck hurt! And so skinny! Like baby giraffe!”

I gaped at her as she slowly trudged toward the kitchen, muttering to herself. Chloë’s mom stared at both of us, then finally threw her hands up and followed her mother.

Chloë smiled radiantly. “It’s gonna be okay now.”

“You sure? Your mom...”

“Don’t worry. Grandma put her foot down.”

And it was. Okay, I mean. There was a brief moment when Chloë’s father and aunt arrived home, and there were more raised eyebrows and incipient questioning, when Grandma spoke up once more.