approached your client looking like yourself, and if you show up in the same form, it will make him suspicious,” Mr. Clerk said. “You need to look different.”
I stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel and dripping wet. “What do you want me to do?”
“First,” he said, “I want to work on your height.”
“My height?” I laughed. “You’re expecting me to grow taller?”
“No. Shorter.” He looked completely serious. “How tall are you? Five five? Five six?”
“Five six.”
“Okay, see if you can become five foot, two inches.”
I shook my head. “I have no idea how to do that.”
“Your succubus does,” he said. “Trust her.”
The idea of trusting my demon wasn’t comforting, but I complied with a sigh, closing my eyes and ordering my demon to compact my body.
At first, nothing happened. Then I felt a slight buzzing in my joints, followed by an abrupt plunging sensation, like I’d pressed the ‘down’ button on an express elevator. I opened my eyes just in time to see my head lower about five inches.
Mr. Clerk clapped his hands, delighted. “Nicely done!”
I wiped the steam from the mirror and looked at myself. Yes, I’d lost some height, but my weight had remained the same, giving me a nice, round figure. Horrified, I immediately instructed myself to drop twenty pounds. The muscles along my belly and butt pulled tight, momentarily giving me terrific cramps. The results, however, were amazing. Deciding that Mr. Clerk wouldn’t object, I dropped the towel for a really good look. I’d gone from 5’ 6” and 130 pounds to 5’ 2” and 110 pounds. I was nearly as petite as my mother had been.
I put on my robe and then worked on my facial features. I made my nose a little smaller and my lips a little poutier. I opted for a heart-shaped face that made me look like a pixie. I was even able to adjust the length of my hair, making it shorter in order to add to my elfin appearance.
“Wonderful! Even William isn’t that adept,” Mr. Clerk said.
Ha! Take that, William. I narrowed my eyes and smiled, pleased when the pixie in the mirror did the same.
“Are you sure that I have to wear those clothes you brought?” I asked. It seemed a shame to waste a perfectly good new look on a cheap halter and a pair of Daisy Dukes.
“Yes. They’re perfect for tonight.” He made little shooing motions with his hands. “Go ahead. Try them on.”
Grumbling, I pulled on the tight jean shorts and halter top. Even in my shrunken state, the shorts were so tiny they nearly showed off the bottoms of my butt cheeks. And the cotton halter was so poorly made that it wouldn’t sit right on my body no matter how much I tugged on it. “Where did you get this stuff?”
“Not every job requires designer fashions,” he said. “You need to dress like the people you’ll be meeting.”
“I look trashy.”
“Not quite yet, but you will.” And when he told me what I had to do next, I argued with him for nearly ten minutes. He held firm until, at last, I caved in and gave him what he wanted. When my demon finished, I looked over my shoulder in the mirror, chasing my back end like a dog chases its tail as I tried to get a look at my tattoo: a pair of feathery wings with a flowery wreath in the center. It lay far down on my back, just above the low rise of the shorts.
“My very own tramp stamp,” I said. “I feel so special.”
“You look like a tart,” he agreed, “but the man will never recognize you.”
I
didn’t even recognize me. The idea was unsettling. Who was I now? Not Lilith Straight, that was for sure.
“Now about tonight,” Mr. Clerk said. “You are to make sure that your client stays at the bar until it closes. Got it?”
“Got it.” Once again, I fought with the tank top, willing it to stay put. “I don’t understand how that’s going to make Miss Spry happy, though.”
Mr. Clerk shook his head. “You’re not seeing the big picture. These little acts may not
I stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel and dripping wet. “What do you want me to do?”
“First,” he said, “I want to work on your height.”
“My height?” I laughed. “You’re expecting me to grow taller?”
“No. Shorter.” He looked completely serious. “How tall are you? Five five? Five six?”
“Five six.”
“Okay, see if you can become five foot, two inches.”
I shook my head. “I have no idea how to do that.”
“Your succubus does,” he said. “Trust her.”
The idea of trusting my demon wasn’t comforting, but I complied with a sigh, closing my eyes and ordering my demon to compact my body.
At first, nothing happened. Then I felt a slight buzzing in my joints, followed by an abrupt plunging sensation, like I’d pressed the ‘down’ button on an express elevator. I opened my eyes just in time to see my head lower about five inches.
Mr. Clerk clapped his hands, delighted. “Nicely done!”
I wiped the steam from the mirror and looked at myself. Yes, I’d lost some height, but my weight had remained the same, giving me a nice, round figure. Horrified, I immediately instructed myself to drop twenty pounds. The muscles along my belly and butt pulled tight, momentarily giving me terrific cramps. The results, however, were amazing. Deciding that Mr. Clerk wouldn’t object, I dropped the towel for a really good look. I’d gone from 5’ 6” and 130 pounds to 5’ 2” and 110 pounds. I was nearly as petite as my mother had been.
I put on my robe and then worked on my facial features. I made my nose a little smaller and my lips a little poutier. I opted for a heart-shaped face that made me look like a pixie. I was even able to adjust the length of my hair, making it shorter in order to add to my elfin appearance.
“Wonderful! Even William isn’t that adept,” Mr. Clerk said.
Ha! Take that, William. I narrowed my eyes and smiled, pleased when the pixie in the mirror did the same.
“Are you sure that I have to wear those clothes you brought?” I asked. It seemed a shame to waste a perfectly good new look on a cheap halter and a pair of Daisy Dukes.
“Yes. They’re perfect for tonight.” He made little shooing motions with his hands. “Go ahead. Try them on.”
Grumbling, I pulled on the tight jean shorts and halter top. Even in my shrunken state, the shorts were so tiny they nearly showed off the bottoms of my butt cheeks. And the cotton halter was so poorly made that it wouldn’t sit right on my body no matter how much I tugged on it. “Where did you get this stuff?”
“Not every job requires designer fashions,” he said. “You need to dress like the people you’ll be meeting.”
“I look trashy.”
“Not quite yet, but you will.” And when he told me what I had to do next, I argued with him for nearly ten minutes. He held firm until, at last, I caved in and gave him what he wanted. When my demon finished, I looked over my shoulder in the mirror, chasing my back end like a dog chases its tail as I tried to get a look at my tattoo: a pair of feathery wings with a flowery wreath in the center. It lay far down on my back, just above the low rise of the shorts.
“My very own tramp stamp,” I said. “I feel so special.”
“You look like a tart,” he agreed, “but the man will never recognize you.”
I
didn’t even recognize me. The idea was unsettling. Who was I now? Not Lilith Straight, that was for sure.
“Now about tonight,” Mr. Clerk said. “You are to make sure that your client stays at the bar until it closes. Got it?”
“Got it.” Once again, I fought with the tank top, willing it to stay put. “I don’t understand how that’s going to make Miss Spry happy, though.”
Mr. Clerk shook his head. “You’re not seeing the big picture. These little acts may not
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