The Sweet Taste of Innocence Ch. 07

"Oh, Emma, I'm so happy for you," Charles gushed over the phone in the morning. "I only wish I could have met the man first, but I guess you're a grown woman who knows how to take care of herself. I just... Can't believe it." Emma lay back against the arm of her couch and listened to the man, her patience growing ragged as she listened to the water run in her bathroom. Alex was in the shower, and she wanted nothing more than to join him under the hot streams as they rolled over his skin and hers, enveloping them in a totally new world.

"Yeah, Charlie, that's great. Look, I have to go." She glanced longingly back at the bathroom door, her heart sinking as she heard the water turn off.

"Oh, I get it," he said, in that tone that made her tick. "You've Mister Hot-Shot waiting for you and you're anxious for another round." Emma wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Not even close," she lied. "I'll tell you everything later. Love you, bye." She hung up quickly and practically ran to the bathroom door. Slowly, she pushed it open and peaked around it. There he stood, looking directly at her, a towel barely covering his great asset. She blushed darkly and came fully into view. He raised an eyebrow at her and, in defiance, she walked over to the shower and turned the water back on. Without looking at him, she whipped off her t-shirt and pj shorts she'd thrown on that morning. Trying to pretend like she didn't care, she stepped under the stream, the heat melting the tension and soreness from the night before.

She got so wrapped up in relaxing under the water, she didn't hear the shower door slide open, then closed again. It wasn't until his hands were cupping and massaging her breasts that she realized he was there. She gasped as his fingertips found her nipples and teased them under the hot water. Moaning, she fell forward a little, catching herself on the shower wall as he continued teasing her.

"A-Alex," she murmured. He didn't stop. Turning her around, he pressed her tight against the wall, kissing her as hot jets pounded against them. He pressed his lips to her neck and nibbled it as she moaned, clenching her thighs together. He ran a hand up one thigh, along the outside, pulling her knee up as he pushed harder against the wall, breathing heavily.

The head of his already swollen cock pressed against her entrance. "Please," she breathed, nibbling his ear as he leaned into her neck. "Put it in me."

He began pushing, ready to oblige, but as she was getting lost in the feeling, a buzzer sounded from the living room. Both groaned in protest, but Emma pushed Alex away and stepped out, grabbing a towel and running out to her intercom.

"Hello?" she said, a little annoyed. No answer, just a chuckle. "H-hello?" Still no answer. "Who is this?"

"Let me up," a deep voice said, "And you'll find out."

Emma froze in fear, her heart racing. "Who are you?"

"Let me up."

Alex came out, glancing at her curiously. She tried to smile and act as if nothing was wrong. "Fine. Come on up." Something inside told her it would have to be fine, but something seemed off.

A few seconds later, there was a knock at the door. Emma glanced to Alex for courage before slowly cracking the door, trying to peek out. Just when it seemed the suspense would snap, the door burst open and in pranced Charles, carrying a steaming sack and a cup tray with three foam cups in it.

"Busy girls need good hefty breakfasts," he crooned, setting everything down on the coffee table and unloading the bag. Out on a couple of paper plates, he set bagels, muffins, and coffee cake. Emma grit her teeth and Alex smiled in amusement. She begrudgingly snatched a cup and chugged it as she stalked back into the bedroom to get dressed.

She came out a few minutes later in jeans and a t-shirt. She was pulling her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck and paused as she caught the end of Alex and Charlie's conversation. "So you think you can handle it then?" Alex was saying.

"Who do you think got her the way she was every other time you've seen her? She has awful taste in clothes." They turned just as she walked in and Charlie pointed at her. "Enter exhibit A." Walking around the couch, she accepted Alex's invitation to curl up in his lap on one end of the couch. "What are you talking about?" she asked, yawning as she got comfortable.

"Why you, of course," Charles said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "What say you to shopping today? Alex just told me about the party and we want you to silence everyone in that room. He has specifically requested me to be your advisor in choosing your wardrobe."

Emma almost bolted but reminded herself that she was a human and not a pampered French poodle. 'Exactly,' she thought. 'Say something.' However her jaw was frozen shut and she just sat there dumbfounded. It was only when Alex offered the use of one of the company limos and one of his credit cards that she finally found the tongue she'd thought she'd swallowed.

"I can't do that, Alex," she insisted. "You know I really don't want to be at that gala much less to stand out. I'm doing this for you. I don't want to oblige that monster Michael any more than I have to."

Alex took both her hands in his own and nuzzled her hair aside to settle his face against her skin. "Please," he murmured, "Do this for me. Don't think about Michael. I want you to look stunning for my sake and no one else's. Once we get to that party, I want to make it known that you're mine. No more mind games, and no more letting Michael control us. Let's make a statement and not let go of our stand." He turned her just enough to make eye contact. "Can you do that? Can you be my own? My princess; my goddess?"

Emma blushed and turned away. Sighing softly she turned reluctantly towards Charles who smiled a little too eagerly. She tried, unsuccessfully, to burn a whole in the shape of a perfect circle right into the center of that oh-so-bright-and-cheery grin he wore so naturally it was almost scary. Instead, she wound up hanging her head in defeat and muttering her surrender. God only knew what could happen from here. --------------------------------------------------

An hour later, Emma found herself lounged in the back of a rather nice black limo, giggling as Charles tried to direct the driver in the direction of some little-known formal tailor shop. "Custom-made gowns," he had told Alex, selling the clueless gentleman almost instantly. Alex had relinquished his card and the number for the driver of the limo before saying his goodbyes, kissing Emma affectionately on the cheek.

Now, here she sat, wishing she just had a coffee and her laptop. The scene before her deserved proper documentation. Finally getting it straight, Charles settled into his seat and folded his hands neatly into his lap.

"Now, Emma, we need to come to an agreement as to what you are going to be looking for so we don't waste any time when we get there. We have only a week to pull this together and I don't want to be in a flustered muddle on the special night because decisions weren't made promptly."

Emma only half listened until she heard "Neon pink". Her head snapped up and she hit Charles with a glare so sharp he actually jumped. "You dare try and put me in that hideous color and you will no longer have a reason to go looking for your boyfriend tonight." Her stance was stiff and defensive.

Charles held up his hands in surrender. "This is exactly why I wanted us to figure out where we're going with this. I don't want you to be unhappy, but if you aren't going to cooperate, you know I have no problem taking over."

Emma rolled her eyes. She knew all too well his tendency to take over, and while she appreciated it in most cases, here she would not tolerate it. Their sense of fashion varied too differently for that. She sat back and sighed heavily.

"I want to blend in, Charlie," she said. "I don't want to stick out like a sore thumb, and neon anything would certainly cause that. I want to stick with my usual black ensemble." Charles huffed, but sat straighter when she looked at him again, raising an eyebrow. "You can put me in almost any style, but it has to be in black."

Finally tired from arguing with her about the issue, Charles gave in and was silent for the rest of the ride. It didn't take long from there, though, to arrive at their destination. Charles seemed suddenly more excited. He bustled Emma from the limo to the entrance of the tiny shop. They were greeted by the young man Charles had been with at the party the night Emma had met Alex.

"Marcus," Charles greeted him brightly, hugging the man warmly. "You remember my best friend, Emma," he said, pulling her forward, albeit reluctantly.

"Of course," Marcus answered brightly. His face was bright and smiling, but Emma saw the fakeness of it as it didn't reach into his eyes. "How do you do, Miss Perry? Charles mentioned he planned to bring you in eventually."

"Oh did he?" she sneered, turning a glare once again onto Charles, who shrugged and smiled, feigning innocence. "Well, before he can say anything, I am putting my word in. I want something black, something simple, and something that will help me blend into a darkened background. Subtle, yet superb...?"

Marcus looked over to Charles and the two exchanged a look, smirks just visible. 'Oh no,' Emma thought as each took one of her arms and led her into the depths of whimsical fabrics and glittering accessories.

Before she knew what was happening, they had her stripped down to her tank top, bra, and panties. All manner of dresses were flung over the door of the dressing room with the promise that if it looked just right, Emma would get her regular clothes back. She came out every once in a while when she liked something particularly well, only to have it shunned and then disregarded.

After two hours of relentless dress-up, Emma was ready to give up and go home when an emerald green scrap was flung over the door. She picked up the flimsy piece of nothing from where it had landed on the floor.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded.

"Just put it on," Charles said through the door,

"And come out when you have it on."

"I am not wearing this, Charlie," Emma said, almost snarling her disgust.

"Just put it on," he repeated, not being one to back down when he set his mind to something.

Grumbling the whole time, Emma shimmied into the slip. The satin material whispered as it climbed up her legs. Once it was on, it only came to about mid-thigh, but gossamer fabric hung in misty tendrils as an overskirt to her knees. The bodice was form fitting from her hips, up over her breasts, with one strap that slung over her right shoulder. She reached back to zip up and was mildly annoyed that she couldn't reach the damn thing. Poking her head out and around the door, she spied Charles and Marcus sitting on a bench, chatting as they waited for her.

"Psst," she hissed. "Little help?"

Charles jumped up and ran over. "Come out, let's see it," he exclaimed.

"I can't reach the zipper," Emma admitted.

"Well , get out here and I'll do it for you."

She slowly, shyly, stepped out of the dressing room and let Charles do up the zipper. Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her slowly for dramatic effect, so she faced them. Her blush was hot in her cheeks as she felt their eyes on her. A small gasp from Charles told her this dress was going to be way too conspicuous.

"Oh, Emma, you have to wear this. Please, trust me. You look fantastic!"

"No," she said simply.

"Why not? If you don't buy it, I will."

"Number one, I am the one holding the card, and number two, this isn't even close to what I was looking for."

"No," Charles mused, sarcastically. "What you were looking for is a nun's habit."

"I have the most amazing shoes to go with that," Marcus offered, breaking between them. "And why don't you come help me find some earrings and such, Charles?"

Shoving her back into the dressing room like a doll into her box, the two ran off. It wasn't long before they were passing little trinkets through the door for her to try. After another twenty minutes, she stepped out. Her long, lean legs were tied into Grecian sandals in silver. Her wrists jangled to mid-forearm with simple silver bands. Around her neck was a silver chain with an emerald and sapphire dragon fly on it. Two matching dragonflies hung from her ears as well. She glared at both of them, but honestly, even she couldn't deny she looked great.

Even with her hair a mess from changing in and out of gowns, she was the spitting image of a goddess. She heard a loud throat clearing behind her and turned suddenly, almost tripping over the heels of her shoes as she was caught, rather ungracefully, around the waist, by none other than Michael.

Smiling ruefully, he gripped her tightly, and glanced over her scantily clad body. Their eyes locked and the man Emma saw within the depths of those eyes sent a cold shiver down her spine as she wrenched free, muttering her gratitude for his rescue.

"You look stunning, Miss Perry," Michael commented, circling her. Emma felt quite uncomfortable, which only caused her to straighten and hold herself more professionally, hoping her cold stance would deter his advances as he drew close again. "You simply must wear this to the gala."

Before she could object, he was talking to Marcus and making the arrangements for payment. Emma was dumbstruck, but by the time she'd recovered her nerves, their driver was escorting them and their packages back to the limo.

'This is out of control,' Emma thought as they rode home. Unfortunately, she didn't know how to stop it, or even if she wanted to.