Air: Elementalist Book 1 by Rebecca Wolf (christmas read aloud .TXT) 📗

I looked up, startled and surprised that she wasn’t looking down her nose at the simple cut, and unidentifiable brand name. “My only concern is that we have already booked the venue, and I’m afraid they have more… extravagant standards for the bride’s attire.” She paused, “it would be a shame to make you pay twice for a wedding dress. As your mother, I insist on buying you the next one. Especially since I should have told you sooner of the required formal dress wear.”

She pulled out her phone and dialed before I could protest. “Don’t worry, I know the perfect person to handle this situation,” she said to me. “Hello, Yasmine? This is Lucinda Ember. Yes, do you have an opening today? It’s quite urgent.” She winked at me conspiratorially. “Sure, we’re available now. Yes, we’ll see you in twenty.” She hung up, dropped her phone in her handbag, and started towards the door. She looked at me over her shoulder on her way out. I was still sitting on the bed in slight confusion. Had I agreed to this?  “Zephyr darling chip-chop. Yasmine is a miracle worker, but we must leave now.”

I found myself walking towards the door. This was not what I had in mind when I had woken up this morning. The chauffeur opened the door, and we slid inside. Lucinda offered me champagne, and when I declined, she handed me a lemonade instead. She poured herself a snifter of brandy and relaxed into the seats.

We arrived in fifteen minutes and exited the vehicle onto an upscale avenue with little shops and boutiques. The shops had flowers in the window buckets and hand-painted signs. It was all very small town charm. The shop we entered did not have a sign, instead, there was a large metallic rendering of a chameleon above the door. A bell rang as we entered, and a woman dressed in a black and gold kimono with a matching turban stepped out to greet us.

  “Lucinda! I’m so glad you called!” She said, in a throaty smoker’s growl. They gave each other light hugs and air kisses on each cheek.  “Tea? Coffee?” “Yes that would be lovely,” said Lucy, as she made herself comfortable in one of the satin covered arm chairs nearby. She motioned for me to do the same. Yasmine sat as well, leaning against the backrest with an almost lackadaisical air, while crossing her legs one over the other as she did so. A store clerk appeared soon after, pushing a gold framed cart with plates of crumpets and scones, a pot of tea, a pot of coffee and all the usual accoutrements. In addition, there was a hookah on the cart as well. Yasmine took a deep drag from it, blowing out several smoke rings before saying, “Lucinda, tell me EVERYTHING!” in a dramatic tone.

“Well, as you might have heard, Aiden, my son, is getting married to this lovely lady before you.” said Lucy.

“Hello dear,” Yasmine said, while eyeing me like I was a new tasty morsel.

“Hello,” I said hesitantly, no longer really sure what I had stepped into. “Yes, we had a little mix up about the appropriate ensemble for the wedding.” Lucy continued, taking over the conversation.  “Completely my fault I might add, and we are looking to revamp everything.” “Ooh,” said Yasmine, her eyebrows lifting as she assessed me from my feet to the top of my head. “Yes, I can see what you mean,” she said to Lucinda.

I felt like I had missed some secret exchange between the two of them. “Well, fear not my dear,’’ she said, turning to me, “I have the perfect combination for your big occasion. Between your mother and I, we have impeccable, and discerning taste.” I eyed her kimono, the turban, and the hookah doubtfully. she saw me looking and sighed deeply. “Really dear, it’s all about the persona.” Suddenly her voice took on a business-like edge. She stood and shrugged out of the kimono, then slid the turban off her head. Underneath was a short fitted cocktail dress and her hair was in a neat bun at the top of her head. “Our clothes are just our first line of defense against the judgment of others. You choose the armor and their perceptions will turn malleable in your hands.” she paused and looked at me, scanning my face for understanding.

I felt like I was being yanked into some sort of alternate universe. She came to stand in front of me. “Before I was an artistic eccentric, unbothered by the plebeian ideas of classic beauty. Now I am a professional stylist, and I know what I am doing.” She moved in close towards me, easing the shoulder straps off of her shoulders, so  that her dress was held up only by her cleavage. She slowly walked behind me trailing her finger on my chair. She released her hair from its constraints and leaned over so it flowed in dark waves inches from my face, giving us a curtain of privacy. “… And now I am a seductress and you are my victim,” she whispered into my ear, as she trailed a finger up my arm to my neck. Goosebumps broke out along my arms. “You see my dear?” She continued, as she stood and walked back around me. She looked straight into my eyes searchingly. “Yes. now I think you understand.” my future mother-in-law nodded at me as well. How had a simple task to get a wedding dress morphed into this?

Yasmine twisted her hair into a chignon and snapped her fingers. The salesclerk came out again, pushing a moveable clothing rack. “Let us begin,” she said. They pulled things off the rack one at a time. They started by fitting me with lingerie, explaining what each piece portrayed, then had me put it on and modeled it. It felt strange and uncomfortable to be modeling lingerie for