A Life Less Pink (7 page)

Tyla asked, “Do you have space?”

Artur nodded. “We have space.”

Tyla and Cori sat with cups of coffee while the men looked at the pretty pictures.

“Don’t you mind him using you for the template of the tattoos? Some of those are going to be on complete strangers within a month.”

Cori shrugged. “He changes me enough and basically is using me as a reference point. I don’t mind. I use him for my designs as well, so it is a fair trade.”

“What kind of designs?”

“I am a costumer. I make and design costumes that I sell to folks for parties, re-enactments and conventions. Now and then, I dabble in movies and theatre but freaky pieces for folks to prance around in is my speciality.”

Tyla grinned. “I admire your fashion sense. Not everyone could pull off a short skirt, bustle, corset and fishnet stockings and sleeves. You are both exposed and completely concealed. Bravo.”

“That is what I was going for.” Cori laughed.

Tyla was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with comfortable sneakers.

“Could you design me something for events like this?” Tyla whispered it so that Arkenon wouldn’t hear.

“I don’t see why not. If you come with Arkenon for the tattoo exchange, you and I will work on the design while they play.”

“It’s a date.”

They shook on it and a weird tingle went up Cori’s arm. She rubbed her hand. “What is that?”

Tyla blinked innocently. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.”

Arkenon looked back at them and winked while Cori tried to figure out what kind of
nothing
it could have been.

Cori and Artur wandered through the tattoo expo, and she saw sights that she had never imagined. Of course, the reason that she had never imagined them was that they would haunt her dreams. Body piercing in an open forum just didn’t seem like a good idea, and forehead implants just weren’t sound in her estimation.

Once Artur explained a Prince Albert to her, she spent her time staring at men’s crotches trying to figure who had one.

He was chortling every time she gasped, and she got the feeling he was going to be hoarse by the end of the day.

“Stop snickering, Artur. You are the one expecting me to take it all in in one afternoon.”

“I know, I know, it isn’t fair. Funny though.”

She had fitted costumes on folks with cutouts for all sorts of piercings but those piercings had been done long before she saw the folks. Here, men were waddling around with a pound of gauze in the front of their trousers because they thought something seemed like a good idea.

“Very funny. Where does he get the inks that he needs?” She switched topics.

“He has a link with some of the mages. Many are willing to trade tattoos for the inks.”

“Nice. So, the barter system is alive and well.”

“It is.” He laughed.

As they went through the expo, she collected temporary tattoos, multi-coloured and flavoured condoms and a clip-on nose ring.

Back at their hotel room, she settled in with an embroidery hoop on her lap and started stitching while he went back to the literal drawing board.

It was a strange but companionable moment as they each fell into their own worlds, side by side.

The next day, Artur attended a few of the seminars and returned to her exhausted and in need of a backrub.

She worked out the knots and smiled. “Was it worth hauling me along?”

He groaned and dropped his head forward. “Every moment of it. Those who recognized me from being with Arkenon swarmed me after the hygiene seminar. They want to know his secrets for colour and precision. No one is ever satisfied with the word
practice
.”

“Poor baby. Nina got a request for all of my Regency costumes today. I told her to go ahead and sell them.”

“Good. Are they hard to replace?”

“I rarely have call for them unless there is a literary convention in town, then everyone has to dress like Jane Austen’s characters.”

She used her elbow to work his muscles loose, and finally, he was relaxed enough for her to get him a cup of coffee.

“Here you go.”

He smiled. “Thank you.” He took the coffee from her, set it on the nearby table and pulled her into his lap.

Artur buried his face in her hair. “This is what I have been waiting for all day. The scent of your hair is better than a dozen massages.”

She sighed and settled against him. “It has been a fun trip. I have to say, I shook Tyla’s hand yesterday and there was this weird zap.”

His body began to shake, and soon, he was laughing loud enough to make her ears hurt. Finally, he wiped his eyes and said, “Be prepared to have a wave of success come your way. Tyla is literally the golden goose.”

Cori stared at him in shock, and he started laughing again.

“Whatever business plans you have, now is the time for them, Cori. There won’t be a better one.”

A few weeks later, Tyla looked around and grinned. “Do you know what you are going to design for me?”

Cori smiled and pinned the picture to the corkboard above her workstation. “What do you think?”

“I love it. It looks fun but comfortable.” Tyla clapped her hands. “Where do we start?”

Artur glanced at her from the clean room he was setting up with Arkenon. It was easier than cleaning the space over and over in the coming days. The frame created a twelve by twelve room that wouldn’t be disrupted by her working and fibres in the air.

“We start with a fitting. I already created the base unit for the costume, the rest is the corset.”

Tyla was amazed, but she followed Cori behind the screen and her street clothing was flipped over the edge of the modesty barrier in a minute.

When Tyla was wearing the majority of the costume, Cori pulled out the corset she had guessed at and wrapped it around her new friend. She turned Tyla and did up the busk before turning her again and tightening the laces.

Tyla smoothed her hands over the front of the outfit and grinned. “Can I see it?”

“Of course. Come this way to the mirrors.”

Three mirrors were arranged so that Tyla could see herself from more angles. The kimono-based robe was slit up the side to mid-thigh. It was covered with heavy embroidery, and gold, silver and copper moved up the black silk in a feathery pattern.

The corset was bland and the colour of canvas, but it fit the robe tightly to her body.

Tyla bounced. “I love it!”

Arkenon came out of the clean room and eyed his mate. “You look amazing, Tyla. It really suits you.”

Cori was grinning. It was only fair that Tyla got some of her best work. If not for her help, Cori might never have submitted her fitting system for a patent that had earned her the attention of several prestigious theatre companies and other costume companies. The ability to fit one costume to multiple body shapes was a cost and labour-saving boon of epic proportions. It had all happened so quickly that magic had to be involved.

“All right. Now, we will take it off and I will finish the corset. It was the only part I wasn’t sure of.”

Tyla grabbed the corset protectively. “I can live with this.”

“I can’t. Hand it over, Tyla.”

Cori relaxed the lacing on the back and unsnapped the busk. She pried the corset out of Tyla’s hands and walked over to her workstation, pinning the embroidered covering into place and beginning a tiny stitch to attach the two layers together.

Tyla sat in the robe and she watched the corset slowly come together. “You already did all that work?”

“Yup, but I didn’t want to attach the layers until I was sure the corset fit. This isn’t something I can trim down.” She was referring to the heavy embroidery on the corset skin.

While she worked and Tyla watched, the men were getting ready to apply their pinups.

Cori was going to cover Artur’s back, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. All her life she had avoided being pink, but now that she was with her stork, he wanted her at her best and that meant the diet that pinked up her feathers.

It took two hours of tiny stitches to get the covering on the left and right of the corset, but when Tyla got it on, Cori could tell it was not coming off any time soon.

“The corset has steel boning; it will set off the metal detectors at the airport, and it should only be sponge cleaned for surface refreshment. Or bring it to me.” Cori sighed happily as Tyla turned from side to side and kept running her hands over her body. It was the sign of a good costume to make one aware of assets they normally kept hidden.

She prepared a care manual for Tyla, and when she was done, she headed downstairs to bring up a tea tray. The colour was going into the design now, and it was going to be quite a while before Arkenon took a proper break.

Artur slept on his stomach, holding her hand. His design was done, but it was wrapped and sealed so that he wouldn’t injure the perforated skin.

“Was it worth it?” She stroked his hair away from his face.

“Every moment. I want you on my skin for those moments we are not together. I am proud of you, proud of us, and I want those of my acquaintance to know it.” He kissed her fingers.

“It seems like a lot of pain for such a little reward.” She chuckled and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Having you with me is the reward, and this pain is nothing. Tomorrow, I will be well and Arkenon will have his turn. He is doing it gladly for his personal devotion to his wife. She didn’t ask him for it, but this is his life, his lifestyle and he wants to wear her on his skin, gold and all.”

He sighed. “You did great work on Tyla’s costume. I am sure she is still wearing it.”

“Just hope that Arkenon doesn’t want a design with her wearing it.” She settled back on her side of the bed with some embroidery.

He gave her a narrow-eyed look and went to sleep.

It took him two hours to remake the tattoo design and six hours to put it on Arkenon’s skin. Tyla stood by in her costume and waited for the moment that Arkenon came out, all wrapped up and wounded.

She gripped Artur’s hands and thanked him.

Cori knew the look on his face. He had just been given a dose of her financial luck, and he was going to have to run with it.

As she put more stitches into the bodice of her wedding dress, she wondered what form his newfound luck was going to take.

Only two weeks from now,
Flying Fur
will be out. A sugar glider with no romantic luck is stuck at the Crossroads for weeks while couples come and go. What are the odds she can find someone before she gives up on herself, and who would want a little freaky creature with no social skills?

Thanks for reading,

Zenina Masters

Viola Grace (aka Zenina Masters) is a Canadian sci-fi/paranormal romance writer with ambitions to keep writing for the rest of her life. She specializes in short stories because the thrill of discovery, of all those firsts, is what keeps her writing.

An artist who enjoys a story that catches you up, whirls you around and sets you down with a smile on your face is all she endeavours to be. She prefers to leave the drama to those who are better suited to it, she always goes for the cheap laugh.

Listening to readers has gotten her this far, and with her 300th short story looming before the end of 2014, she will continue to listen in the future.