Capítulo 57: Wake-up Call – Chapter 56
Do you know what people don't tend to associate the Boardwalk with? Hotels.
Which is kind of silly, when you think about it, because it's the tourist trap par excellence in the Bay, and tourists need to stay [somewhere] if they manage not to get killed before dropping their luggage, so, of course, there are hotels that take advantage of their herd mentality with prices that relentlessly exploit their lemming mindset (that is: actively detrimental to their long-time survival, seeing how debt works in this town).
Of course, there are hotels, and then there are [hotels]. Brockton Bay doesn't have too many of the latter, but if you see an uncommonly tall building with a glass façade looking over the actually nice stretch of sea this city has to offer, and you were to go inside, take the elevator to the top floor, and enter a gorgeous restaurant with walls covered by lapis lazuli colored wooden panels, you would find…
A very nervous blonde who keeps checking her makeup with her pocket mirror.
Said blonde is currently uncharacteristically attired. She usually prefers form-fitting jeans for ease of movement, given her profession-derived tendency to have to run really fast with no previous warning, but today she's wearing a set of white kitten heels, an also white pair of silk stockings that reach up to mid-thigh and hint at the smooth, recently depilated skin below and a crème dress with a ruffled, lace hemline that…
That is the most traditionally feminine thing I've worn in… since I left Sarah Livsey behind.
But I wanted to do something extra, something nice, and so I went straight to the hair salon after a disgruntled Colin dropped me off, and my hair is now done in an elaborate updo that leaves my nape exposed so that my pearl collar is readily apparent, and my dangling, gold and pearl drop earrings frame my long, slender neck, and… And the dress reaches a bit below my knees, but, for some reason, leaves my shoulders bare and why does [that] make me feel so exposed when I'm used both to ass-clinging spandex and public sex, and—
[Breathing exercises—]
Right. Right. Thank you.
[Anthropomorphizing of parahuman ability's interface—]
You cheeky fucker.
OK. This is just… a little extra. A date, yes, but Taylor and I are already living together, so there's absolutely no reason to put this much pressure on myself just because I want this to be perfect, and she's never seen me like this, and what will she even [think—]
[Taylor Hebert's arousal—]
… Well, yeah, I [hope so].
[Reiterated demonstrations of reciprocated affection—]
I know, I know, I'm being silly! But… But I… OK, look, I [am] girly. I'm perfectly feminine in my own way and happy about it. I like who I am, like liking the things I like, and… and… Oh.
I do like myself.
…
I… Don't even know how to process that.
[Narcissism—]
Fuck you.
OK, going back to my ongoing freakout, my frequent use of pants and jackets has nothing to do with wanting to come across as butch or whatever the current term is. I'm perfectly fine with being delicate, dainty, and letting Taylor pick whatever traditionally masculine roles she wants to pick. I like dressing up, and dolling myself up, and a lot of things that end in 'up,' like having Taylor work me up, but…
But this kind of femininity? The kind that I would use in a high-class setting, attending a party, [performing] for strangers and business associates…
Hi there, Sarah. It's been a while.
[Lisa Wilbourn's self-actualization—]
I [know]. But I still… look, I… The name thing? That was dramatic, abrupt, but… I don't think I could've done better at the time. I really needed that much of a clean break before I could live my new life, and… And it's worked, hasn't it? I've done the kind of things Sarah could only dream about. I've defeated my enemies, grasped power of my own, and…
[Societal influences in perception of own self—]
Yeah. That.
I take a deep breath and shoot a brief smile at the head waiter checking whether I need anything from the other end of the room before shaking my head and taking a bracing sip of my cup of ice-cold water.
And… And I don't anxiously check the hour on my phone, nor fiddle with the pearl bracelet I just bought along with the earrings and necklace, and I definitely stop myself from bouncing my knee or crossing my legs and dangling my right shoe off the tip of my stock-clad foot.
I don't do a lot of things, is the point I'm trying to make.
[Taylor Hebert's agreed meeting time—]
Yes. I know I'm early. Because, as it turns out, I must be the only woman in history whose thorough preparations that included an entire wardrobe change ran [shorter than expected].
[Taylor Hebert—]
Is just stepping through the elevator, and is [also] early, and why the Hell does that make my heart beat faster, and she looks so cutely disoriented while searching for me on the occupied tables, and she's wearing her college Taylor getup, with the dark blue jeans and black blazer, and her hair looks unfairly good in a long ponytail, and, oh, the head waiter has finally managed to catch her before she charged right in, and…
And she's looking at me.
[Taylor Hebert standing still. Taylor Hebert unresponsive to prompts by head waiter. Taylor Hebert's capillary action—]
Looking at me, eyes wide open, pupils dilated, and blushing.
I… I do my best to smile meekly as I wave my fingers in greeting, and that seems to shock her into moving as the head waiter politely hides his smirk behind a white glove (he just earned himself a tip) before he escorts her here. To our table.
I… It's a table for two, right by the floor-to-ceiling windows, with a white spread on top of which there's fine porcelain and silver cutlery the likes of which I haven't used in… a while.
I'm sitting with the sea to my right, and the sun is high enough that I don't see it, but there's a wide stretch of glittering ocean that seems to bathe Taylor in gold as she stands beside her white upholstered chair before the head waiter pulls it away from the table for her.
She's visibly uncomfortable at him doing so, and I see her repress the impulse to seat herself without assistance, even with her arm still being in a sling (that she drops far too often for my liking).
But her eyes are on me, and she… plays along.
Because of me. For me.
"Hi," I shily greet her.
"Hello," she says, her eyes going from my swaying earrings to my collar before briefly dipping to the straight line of clothing covering all but the very start of my cleavage.
I blush.
She reciprocates.
"I will leave you to peruse the menu," the man in his forties says with a warm tone of voice that—
[Paternal satisfaction. Gold band in ring finger. Possibly one daughter of close age. Homosexuality likely to be-]
Yeah. A good tip.
"This… is a bit excessive," Taylor guiltily points out as soon as we're alone.
"I wanted to do something extra," I answer, my right hand lying on top of the table.
She takes it.
"You always do," she says, something sappy shining behind the contact lenses I forced her to wear when all this started, and we were fugitives changing our look so we wouldn't get caught.
And now we are… Ourselves. Just as changed.
I stare at her. At green eyes shining in such a different way as mine do as the sea to her left tries and fails to compete with the myriad shades I glimpse in her iris.
"I love you," I almost whisper, despite the closest table being far away enough that nobody would've caught it unless I shouted it.
"I love you," she says, just as low, as if murmuring it in my ear after I fall asleep on top of her arm.
And I… I could just stand here looking at her, drinking her in, and forget about the world for the rest of our lives.
But she then has to crack a smile that I know far too well as she reaches for the leatherbound menu and asks me:
"So, how are the burgers in this place?"
My right eyelid twitches in offended sensibilities I didn't realize I still had, and then I laugh.
***
"Steak with Roquefort sauce with green peppercorn… and fries," I tell her with a hint of reproach.
"I don't want to waste the sauce. It's delicious," she says with an unrepentant smile.
And I frown until she caves in… and hands me one.
I flutter my eyelashes and open my mouth in as cutesy a manner as I can manage until I see a hint of color creep up her neck as she pushes the golden, crispy, cheese-laden stick of deliciousness past my lips.
My moan is not sexual, but only barely.
And her blush spreads down her neck.
"You did that on purpose," she accuses.
"You know me so well," I admit while taking a spoonful of my rice a banda.
Yes, I know, the aioli sauce is not the best idea for a date, but it's been far too long since I tasted this, and I just had these craving pangs when I saw it on the menu that made me look suspiciously at Taylor I-swear-I-can't-physically-make-you-pregnant Hebert for a brief moment. Also, this is what breath mints are for.
[Taylor Hebert unlikely to care about Lisa Wilbourn's breath when in the middle of—]
OK! OK! I get the point; no need to go into detail!
"So does Power, apparently," she says with a bit of an impish smile when I frown at myself for no sane reason I could explain to a jury of my peers.
I mean, [assuming] they could find even a single peer of mine.
[Hubris commonly associated with—]
I was joking!
And Taylor giggles.
"So, you wanted to talk about how your morning went?" she prods as she spears yet another portion of her juicy steak and carefully spoons some more sauce on top of it with the flat of her knife.
"I… I really did, you know, but… now that we are here…" I say, trying not to point at her, or at the beautiful sight of the ocean, or even at the delicious food.
She nods, her smile widening.
"Yes. I know," she says.
And the wide smile softens.
Then she puts her slightly too raw for my taste piece of steak in her mouth before chewing with an expression of delight I've rarely seen on her while clothed, and…
And I look at my beautiful girlfriend enjoying the lunch I'm treating her to, furtively glimpsing at my attire from time to time, when not at my neck or bare shoulders, as a silly smile fights her self-control, and I…
I return the smile, enjoy the texture of the rice flavored with fish broth, and savor our first date in forever.
The sea is beautiful at our side.
When we finish our meal, I find myself slightly surprised I haven't looked that much at it.
But only slightly.
==================
This work is a repost of my most popular fic on QQ (https://forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/wake-up-call-worm.15638/), where it can be found up to date except for the latest two chapters that are currently only available on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/Agrippa?fan_landing=true)—as an added perk, both those sites have italicized and bolded text. I'll be posting the chapters here twice weekly, on Wednesday and Friday, until we're caught up. Unless something drastic happens, it will be updated at a daily rate until it catches up to the currently written 88 chapters (or my brain is consumed by the overwhelming amounts of snark, whichever happens first).
Speaking of Italics, this story's original format relied on conveying Power's intrusions into Lisa's inner monologue through the use of italics. I'm using square brackets ([]) to portray that same effect, but the work is more than 300k words at the moment, so I have to resort to the use of macros to make that light edit and the process may not be perfect. My apologies in advance
Also, I'd like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon: Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, Xalgeon, and aj0413. If you feel like maybe giving me a hand and helping me keep writing snarky, useless lesbians, consider joining them or buying one of my books on https://www.amazon.com/stores/Terry-Lavere/author/B0BL7LSX2S. Thank you for reading!
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