A Life Less Pink Read online

  “Halloween party. I won the trip to the Crossroads and the portal was in alignment, so it was either tonight or wait six weeks, and if I waited that long, I would chicken out.” She would also be in the middle of the New Year’s Eve rush for costumes and it would be a little awkward for her.

  The Halloween rush was in the hands of her assistant. Cori always took a few weeks off beforehand to avoid those last-minute elaborate costumes that everyone wanted. Cori’s Costumes would be cleared of stock by Halloween, and then, Cori would start all over again.

  Teebie laughed. “You won a trip to the Crossroads?”

  “I did. My cousin bought the tickets and put my name on them.”

  “What if someone else had won?”

  “They would have handed it off to a single relative, and I would have come here on my own in time, or I would have just stuck it out for another year.” Cori shrugged.

  “Well, we are glad to have you here. Your room is this way.”

  It took a bit of doing to climb the stairs while holding her shopping bag, but she managed it.

  Teebie opened the door marked with feathers and smiled, “I will be up with some herbal tea in five minutes. Do make yourself at home. Do you need help with your costume?”

  With a grin, Cori put down her bag and reached behind her to loosen the central tie on the corset. “No, I will be changed by the time you return. Thank you for the offer of assistance though.”

  Teebie left, and with a few practiced tugs, the corset loosened. Cori unclasped the busk and set the corset aside before removing the feathered bolero she had been wearing, the silken gloves and the chemise that had kept the corset from chafing.

  The skirt rustled to the ground and she pulled the long camisole over her head, slipping on the matching robe while she sat to remove her heels and stockings.

  Teebie came back as she was wiggling her toes and folding the stockings. The garter belt was lying next to the corset.

  There was a knock, and when Cori called out, Teebie came in with a tray. She blinked. “You weren’t kidding.”

  “I get people in and out of costumes for a living. Stripping myself is easy.”

  There was a small bistro table in the corner, and Cori sat with Teebie, inhaling the scent of the tea in the cup she was handed.

  “I have never seen a flamingo with hair your colour.”

  Cori made a face. “I know. They are usually blonde or straight brunette.”

  “Indeed. If I didn’t know that the streaks didn’t hold up through shifts, I would think that you dyed it.”

  “Nope. It grows with red locks randomly in the mix. My dad blames one of his great-great grandmothers for it. My mom just pretends that it is something I do to my hair after every shift.”

  “Parents need illusions now and then, or so I have been told.” Teebie lifted a plate. “Cookie?”

  “Thank you. I am not sure how one goes about finding a mate, but I am willing to put myself out there in an effort to find out.”

  Teebie chuckled. “And we are here to help you.”

  She lifted her cup, and Cori met it with her own in a toast. She may be in the unknown, but she wasn’t alone.

  Chapter Three

  The smell of coffee hauled Cori out of bed and drove her into the shower. Once she was dressed, she braided her hair into a thick column and headed downstairs. Dimensional travel was good for the appetite.

  A small group of people were in the dining room enjoying the coffee she had come down in search of.

  Artur was speaking with an obviously freshly minted couple. He paused and smiled at her as she entered the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Cori. She arrived last night.”

  The group at large greeted her, and when Teebie poured her some coffee and set it on the table, she followed the heavenly smell.

  She added sugar and cream, stirred twice and started to gulp it down. When she came up for air, she smiled blissfully. “Good morning, everyone.”

  Laughter rippled through the room, but Cori just sat back and let Teebie pour her a second cup of coffee.

  As she sipped, Teebie fixed a plate for her and put it in front of her.

  Artur cocked his head. “You look very different this morning. You are still stunning, but you are slightly less ethereal now.”

  Cori settled in to eat. “This is how I look about eighty percent of the time. I own and run a costume shop, so costumes of one sort or another are always around me.”

  He propped his chin on his fist and smiled. “So, you dress in corsets often?”

  She gave him a narrow-eyed look as the men at the table perked up and the women looked interested. “Often enough. I am no tight-lacer, but I have a lot of practice.”

  As she ate, she answered questions about where to get corsets and how to fit them. Teebie kept her coffee full, and when Cori was finished, she felt marginally more awake. She was also in the room with only Artur and Teebie.

  “Did I talk them into ash?”

  Teebie laughed and cleared the table. “No, they are off to pack and make their transfer back to the normal world. They have had the privacy that they needed.”

  Cori sat back with her cup between her palms. “So, one night and they are out?”

  Teebie grinned. “Those are the rules. A mated couple causes tension in the gathering places. Well, a newly mated couple does. They are all wild pheromones.”

  Cori blinked. “You mean the mammals.”

  Her host nodded. “Your kind are usually fine. You only start dancing at inappropriate moments.”

  Artur grinned. “So, I am guessing you are a bird as well, Cori?”

  She nodded. “Yup. You too?”

  He inclined his head. “Guilty. You hide it very well. I would have thought you were fur and not feather, though you were wearing them last night.”

  “You as well. Normally birds don’t carry your particular build.” She gestured to the muscles that were bulging against the snug black t-shirt he was wearing.

  “It takes a little effort, but in my line of work, you have to hold the needle for hours. Muscles help with that.”

  “You are a tattoo artist?” Cori smiled and cocked her head.

  “I am more of a general artist, but I have been known to design a few striking works.” He winked.

  In the light of day, his eyes were a soft grey-blue under the dark wave of his hair and that gaze met hers with pure amusement.

  She let her focus drop to the images creeping out from under his shirt. “Your designs?”

  “Some of them. Others were designed by friends that I trusted and executed by artists I admire.”

  She wanted to see them all but that might be a little forward. Cori sighed. “Well, I had better go exploring. It has been nice seeing you again, Artur.”

  He winced. “Ouch. A very forward dismissal.”

  She blushed as she got to her feet. Teebie remained quiet and whisked everything away.

  “I wasn’t dismissing you, but last night you mentioned an appointment and I thought it was in reference to a date.”

  “It was, of a sort. I am designing a new tattoo for one of the bartenders, and he had a finite window of opportunity while he could get his shift covered.”

  “Oh. Well, now that I have put my foot in it, I am sure that you have better things to do.”

  He got to his feet and offered her his hand. “I will tell you if one of those things comes along. For this morning, I am offering myself as your tour guide.”

  She couldn’t tamp down the heat in her face, but she slipped her fingers into his. “Thank you for the offer. I accept.”

  Teebie called out, “Have fun.”

  As they stepped out into the Crossroads morning, Cori smiled. She was already having fun.

  They had checked out the forest, caught two couples coupling and had simply walked on, grinning.

  Finally, she asked the question she had been dying to ask. “
What kind of bird are you?”

  “I will tell you if you will tell me.”

  Cori made a face. “Fine. I am a flamingo.”

  He laughed in delight. “No way. Have you ever been followed by conservationists?”

  She muttered. “I have been banded twice.”

  He hooted and hugged her against him.

  “Three times for me. I am a white stork.”

  She giggled at the thought of him turning into a gangly bird with delicate limbs. “You are kidding.”

  “I would never kid about the type of bird I am, just like I would never lie about my name.”

  His hand moved over her back as he held her to him. His touch was light; she could pull back if she wanted to. Against her better judgement, she did.

  He sighed and resumed their walk as if they had not stopped. “So, as a flamingo, do you dance?”

  “You mean that weird little group march where we flirt with each other? Yes, I have done that. It is an annual thing. We all have to do it.” She snorted.

  “I have seen it on wildlife documentaries. It is wild. How about that stomping thing you do in shallows?”

  “Yeah, I do that. It kicks up the silt and I filter it through my beak.” She wrinkled her nose. “Anything else?”

  “You are pink?”

  She exhaled with a gust of frustration. “Usually. Right now, I am closer to white. I haven’t been feeding lately.”

  “So, the food changes your colour?”

  “Yup. Now my turn. Do you really bring babies?”

  He gave her a heavy-lidded look. “You will have to buy me a drink first.”

  And just like that, her blush was back in full force.

  Sitting across from him in the café, she propped her chin on her hands. “Now, for the big question. Why did you come to the Crossroads?”

  “A good friend of mine found his mate here, and if he can find a woman as solid as Tyla, then I can scope around for a mate of my own who doesn’t just want me for my artistic sensibilities or my ability to design covering on her from forehead to ankles.”

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  He shrugged. “More than you would think. A lot of modern women are appalled at the idea of paying for a tattoo with money. The sexual contract is one that is on frequent offer.”

  Cori made a face. “That would be awkward. I am guessing that it wouldn’t stop if you had a mate.”

  “It wouldn’t, but it would stop being tempting. I come from a long line of fanatically monogamous storks. I want a mate; I want a woman to go home to after trade shows and design expos or, better yet, one who would come with me now and then.”

  Cori perked up. “What kind of design expos?”

  “I do a lot of artwork with advertising and logo potential. I also attend comic conventions and sell posters and such.”

  She grinned. “You have a booth babe already?”

  He blinked. “Are you volunteering?”

  “I have done a few cosplay conventions, taking care of clients’ clothing. It would be nice to be on the other end of the process with a wall at my back.”

  His smile went shy. “If you are serious and we get along, will you change your mind?”

  “Nope. I told you I only wear normal clothing eighty percent of the time. The rest of the time, I am swanning around in revealing costumes while lacing up other women.”

  “Would you pose for me?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I mean, would you get back into your costume, we go into the woods and I draw. You would make an amazing tattoo.”

  “I am not sure how to take that.”

  “Take it as a compliment. You have the looks and body of a classic pinup, you just need to pose like it and you will have a career in alternative modeling for you.”

  “My clothing designs already do.” She smiled.

  They ate their meal, and when she was sipping at her soda, she had a thought. “Is my lack of tattoos a problem?”

  He smiled slowly. “Not really. My personal kink is that I like ink on me but not my partner.”

  “Wow. Confiding kinks already.” She sipped at her soda. “I suppose that I will wear anything that isn’t pink. I can’t stand the colour.”

  “Anything?”

  “Yup. Leather, rubber, fishnets, whatever. Just not pink. My life has been filled to the brim with pink and I am over it.”

  He blinked rapidly at the images her words had put into his head. “Really?”

  “All tasteful. Nothing I would fall out of, but I have designed costumes for folks with particular tastes, and testing the design on myself first is part of the process to confirm range of motion. Some of those doms and dommes want things that are just beyond human capability, especially if binding is going to be involved at any time.”

  He sat back and stared again. “Here, I had you pegged doing costumes in the historical vein. I have to say, I am shocked.”

  “And so I disappoint another potential suitor. The story of my life.” She quirked a smile.

  “Oh, I am not disappointed; I am just surprised that I had not accepted this as part of your potential. Another part of my brain wants to create images of you for fetish tattoos.”

  “It would be a little boring if you always drew the same woman.”

  “I will let my customers decide.”

  She blushed. It seemed that his mind was made up on the matter.

  “Right. Well, in any case, I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I am heading back to the Open Heart for a nap. Will I see you later?”

  He grinned. “Of course. With a temptation like this before me, I might just rough out some designs that suddenly spring to mind. I feel inspired.”

  She blinked slowly before smiling. “That is probably an erection. They go away on their own, or so I have been led to believe.”

  He chortled and paid for their meal. They were going to head to their own quarters and collide again for dinner. She had a few ideas of her own, but they all involved Artur in a short leather skirt and nothing else. It wouldn’t pass for a Spartan uniform, but it would be fun to fit on him.

  Chapter Four

  Once the idea was in her head, she could only pick up the sketchbook she had picked up with the clothing and start to work.

  She had dressed him in clothing throughout the ages and felt like a silly teen when she closed the book and scrubbed the graphite from her fingers.

  Cori checked the clock and realized there was a reason she felt hungry—it was approaching evening. She changed into a neat dress and heels and headed down to see if her lunch companion was available for dinner.

  There was no one on the main floor, so she headed out into the Crossroads and toward the café. If she had to take on the male population alone, she was going to start now.

  She settled at a table by herself and perused the menu. Gazes were on her, but she ignored them and made her selections. When the server took her order and the menu away, she looked out at the occupants of the café, meeting the men’s gazes one by one.

  Some were amused by the contact, two looked away and flint appeared in at least one pair of eyes. He was definitely not for her.

  One of the amused men got to his feet and came over. “May I join you?”

  She waved for him to take the seat across from her. “Please.”

  He extended his hand. “My name is Bernard.”

  “Cori.”

  He took a seat and began casual and non-threatening flirting.

  Cori enjoyed the exchange, and once dinner was over, they made their way to the Crossed Star Bar, and she parted ways with him, letting him pursue a woman of his previous acquaintance while she settled into a comfortable booth with a glass of blended rose wine and a bowl of pretzels.

  A man with dark hair that fell in a heavy lock over one eye swaggered up to her. “Would you care to dance?”

  She set aside her wine. “Yes, yes,
I would.”

  Cori scooted to her feet and joined her companion on the dance floor for a quick turn around the floor to a jazzy number. He was a good dance partner, and he was the first of a dozen who requested her attentions.

  Each one was a good partner, but there was no additional spark on either part. They had a good time and went their separate ways. When her feet ached and her legs were humming on their own, she stopped at the bar, replenished her drink and found another seat.

  Couples got together, some parted and some clung. It was fun to watch from her perch on a barstool.

  The bartenders, Spike and Chuck, moved around each other with consummate grace. They poured, mopped up, retrieved glasses and ran the washer without any collisions or unnecessary distraction. There were no furtive glances or touching, so it was obvious that, while they were wearing the bands that marked them as mated Crossroads inhabitants, they were not mated to each other.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” Artur moved into her peripheral vision.

  “Please. Did you have a nice afternoon?”

  He settled on the stool next to hers, and he nodded. “I did. I finished the design for Andy and he is delighted with it. The next time he sees Arkenon, he is going to get it done.”

  Chuck must have overheard, because he wandered over. “Ark is due in next week. Did you finish the drawing?”

  Artur nodded. “I did. I was finally inspired this afternoon and I got it done, coloured and ready to be transferred to his body when your brother arrives.”

  Cori noted that Chuck wore his own fair share of tattoos, most of which had a swan-based theme. Cori suddenly had an idea of what Chuck’s wife was.

  Chuck leaned forward. “Can I see the designs?”

  “Andy has them.”

  With an eager smile, Chuck spoke quickly to Spike, and when she grinned and flapped her hand, he was out from behind the bar and heading out the door.

  “I am guessing he really wanted to see them.”

  Artur shrugged and drank from the beer that Spike delivered. “To be a shifter and have a lasting tattoo, you either need to go far too deep for safety, or you need to have enchanted ink. Arkenon uses the right inks for the right job. You can shift with them and have them remain whole when you return to your normal form without distortion over time.”