by Savage Rose
“Hiya, Reggie!” Cheri called suddenly, grabbing Lara’s hand and pulling her along as she broke into a decidedly jiggly jog, leading her to a young man with a thick shock of platinum blonde hair, vintage horn rim glasses, and a shirt that read ‘ECCC STAFF.’
“Ms. Van Pelt!” he replied with matching enthusiasm. Lara tried not to bristle as they hugged, jealousy whispering darkly in her ear.
“Oh, call me ‘Cheri,’ please,” she urged warmly, and Reggie smiled. “Reggie, this is my dear friend Lara. She’s a very gifted writer,” the unexpected praise made Lara blush, “and I’m showing her around the Con today.”
“Well, welcome, Lara,” the man said. “Any friend of Cheri’s… you know.” She fought against the urge to growl. He seemed genuinely nice, but suddenly everything seemed like a threat to the relationship she had no right to or claim over.
“Come on, sugar!” Cheri said, pulling her into the conference room that would hold her panel discussion. The room was bigger than Lara expected, with rows upon rows of cushioned chairs and a very long, narrow table on the stage dotted with short microphone stands. A group of a dozen or so men and women were chatting in one corner, and Lara found herself being drug off toward them. Cheri introduced her cheerily to the various artists, writers, and producers behind both the comic series and the television program based on ‘Werever,’ and Lara nodded, a smile fixed on her tanned face, knowing there was no way she was going to remember any of their names. Reggie— at least she remembered him, her jealousy demanded that she keep track of that one— announced that it was time for sound checks. “Feel free to wander where you will, sugar, but if you want to save a seat for the panel, you’re welcome to take any that are open and wait. We shouldn’t be long.”
There was no way she was missing this. She smiled, and took one of the seats toward the front, across from where she could see the name ‘Cheri Van Pelt – Creator’ emblazoned on a small placard. She hoped no one tall would sit in front of her and obscure her view. Sitting proved to be uncomfortable as the vinyl encasing her abdomen bunched up again, but at least the cloth covering the chair made her shifting mostly soundless this time around.
It was surprising how many people crammed into the room, making the large space suddenly relatively claustrophobic. ‘Werever’ was more popular than Lara had been expecting. Among the standard super heroes, including several more traditional-looking Wonder Women, and pop culture reference costumes were even a few characters Lara recognized from the comic series based on Cheri’s work. There were two rather inaccurate-looking werewolves she saw were dressed in the trademarked blue flannel and stonewashed jeans of Garred, the wolfy sidekick of the main character, Hunter.
No one had dared cosplay as the Horny Hunk of Howling Hotness, Lara noted. Perhaps a werewolf of that sheer testosterone-filled splendor was too far a stretch for mere mortals. Not that she disliked Cheri’s character, there was just an overwhelming sense of loss she felt when she thought about how so much of the story follows an undeniably male character and the effect he has on innocent human maidens. She found it easier to connect with the character of Garred, who while still male was definitely less masculine, and had a gentle, friendly playfulness that reminded her of herself. If only he was the one who ‘got the girl,’ she might feel more reassured that her feelings for the author could ever be returned.
She curled into herself a bit as the seats on either side of her were taken, the claustrophobic feeling pressing harder on her. There was a cute sprite of a woman on her right dressed as what looked like a sexy jester in red and purple, her curly strawberry blonde hair pulled into twin pigtails, a black eye mask painted on her face. Lara had no idea what she was cosplaying, but it was incredibly cute in an undeniably unsettling sort of way. On her left was a tall, attractive brunette woman wearing some kind of yellow and green bikini and a necklace of what looked like bones, a spear resting against her thigh casually. Her hair sported a nearly white patch in the front, held out of her stunning, dark fringed eyes by a strip of green. For as little as she was wearing, Lara was certain all that had taken time and resources she couldn’t even fathom. The attention to detail alone was certainly putting her store-bought Wonder Woman to shame.
Applause broke out as the panel speakers took their seats. Lara found herself distracted from most of the discussion taking place between audience members and the ‘Werever’ crew seated at the table, her eyes fixed on Cheri who sipped her ice water, her usual poise wavering a bit. As the discussion continued on, she wondered when Cheri would get the chance to speak, thinking perhaps it was her being apparently over-looked that was making her seem so uncharacteristically withdrawn. A person dressed as a full-sized Tauntaun from Star Wars answered Lara’s question by posing one to Cheri, the first of all the questions fielded to the panel thus far.
“Ms. Van Pelt, former porn star Darrek O’Marley has been tapped to play Hunter Black for the ‘Werever’ television show. How do you feel about that casting choice?” There was a distinct note of distaste in the Tauntaun’s voice, but Cheri gave the room a charming smile as she leaned in closer to her microphone, generous breasts resting on the table, her perfectly coiffed purple hair making her look far more polished and professional than the rest of the casually dressed crew.
“Well now, Darrek and I have known each other a long time. I’m actually the one who told him about the auditions, and though I wasn’t in on the casting decision, I can assure you that he has plenty to bring to the table beyond his unconventional résumé. Considering this is above all a tale of romance, I think he has already proven himself quite capable in terms of using his… assets.” She gave a broad grin and even a slight wink that set the audience laughing even as it made Lara’s stomach clench.
What kind of audition WAS that? She chastised herself for feeling jealous yet again. Cheri wasn’t hers in any way but platonic friendship, and never would be. As was becoming painfully clear. She hadn’t been in the woman’s presence for much more than 12 hours, and already she was fending off bouts of jealous anger at every turn. Her flight home wasn’t for another two days. It was going to be a looong weekend.
The rest of the panel went by in a haze, followed by a blur of activities with Cheri buzzing about the convention, flitting from booth to booth while the most beautiful woman Lara had ever seen in her life tugged her hand and giggled with her, sparkling blue-clad breasts rubbing against her arm accidentally and setting off fireworks that had no business wreaking havoc through her hopelessly smitten body. Cheri insisted on buying her an overpriced meal at the concession stand.
“Never try to keep a Southern woman from feeding someone,” she warned, dark eyes flashing playfully. Lara tried to ignore the way the gesture made her heart beat a primitive, premature victory dance. By the time the convention booths were shut down for the day, she had only managed to dig herself even deeper in her unfortunate attraction. Her feet were sore, and her heart was following suit.
“That was an experience,” she said with a lopsided smirk, readjusting her vinyl bustier. Cheri laughed.
“Oh sugar, you handled it like a pro. But the experience isn’t over yet! There’s a big after party for convention guests at the Sheraton tonight, and I’d love it if you’d join me. Are you up for that, sugar?” She wanted so badly to say no, but the way Cheri watched her, those perfect eyebrows arched hopefully, that tentative smile just waiting to broaden into an outright grin…
“Will there be alcohol?” she asked, wishing she’d thought of a smoother way to work in that question. It was the only chance she had to make it through the night without resorting to her usual stress relief of wolfing out.
“Open bar,” Cheri answered with a mischievous eyebrow twitch. Well, there went THAT excuse.
“I don’t know… I need to change out of this,” Lara said, gesturing to the increasingly uncomfortable vinyl encasing her.
“Of course! You must be exhausted wearing that all day! Come on, let’s get you out of that thi
ng! You can undress in my suite!” Oh, how those words sounded coming out of that mouth. The young werewolf was incapable of doing anything more than trotting after the voluptuous vixen, her mind reeling at the same rate as it slapped down those obnoxious hopes that just refused to stop cropping up and ruining her day. It would be a relief to get out of the costume, though she really didn’t have any party clothes to change into. But judging by the sweatshirts and ripped jeans on display at the panel, her usual casual get-up would probably fit right in.
They stopped at the rental SUV to grab Lara’s duffle bag, then made their way to the incredible suite where Cheri was staying. Perhaps it was the fact that this was her first time in a nice hotel, or perhaps it was the drastic change from the Come On Inn, but regardless, Lara was struck speechless by the spacious room with impeccable décor and staggering view of the heart of the city. Various garments in rich jewel tones, including several corsets, bras, and lacy panties lay flung about the room almost artistically, and she blushed, realizing they had to be Cheri’s.
“Uh… I’ll just… I’ll go change,” she stammered, taking her bag into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her softly.
“That’s just fine, sugar,” Cheri called after her, and she could just make out the sound of laces being untied. She’s taking her corset off just behind this door. Oh my God I may pass out. Redirecting her attention, Lara hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her blue vinyl shorts and tugged them down, sighing in relief as air hit her skin. She attempted to pull the red bustier off as well, but only managed to get it as far as her shoulders before she found herself desperately and embarrassingly stuck. Aww CRAP! She struggled against the stubborn, plasticy fabric, but it refused to budge.
“Damn it!” she gasped, trying a third time to no avail.
“Something wrong?” Cheri asked. Oh God, there’s no other way I’m getting out of this thing, is there. SHIT.
“Ah, yeah. I’m stuck.”
“Want some help?”
“Please.” She would have dwelt on how absolutely mortifying the whole situation was if it hadn’t been for the fact that Cheri entered the bathroom wearing only a very short, flirty midnight blue slip, lace stretching tightly over those beautiful, bountiful breasts. She couldn’t stop her face from blushing or her breath from catching, but Cheri seemed quite focused on the task at hand, wasting no time in grabbing the vinyl and tugging upward.
“Who would have thought that a Wonder Woman costume could double as a straightjacket,” the woman joked, and Lara let out a startled laugh. With a final tug that nearly lifted Lara off her feet, the vinyl slipped free leaving her entire torso bared, the light brown nipples of her small breasts hardened into telling peaks. Cheri didn’t seem phased in the least, and handed the bustier to her with a smile. “Sweet freedom, eh, sugar?”
“Yeah,” she managed, her tongue feeling like it belonged to someone else. Cheri returned to the bedroom, leaving the door open. Whether it was intentional or not Lara didn’t know, but she had to fight the urge to watch as the rustle of cloth told her the woman had returned to her undressing. She dug into her duffle bag with both hands, distracting herself with the search for something appropriate to wear to a party she hadn’t intended on attending when she packed.
Clothes. Clothes would be good. Because you’re still completely topless and the door is open, Lara. Put on some damn clothes. Finally she found a plain black tank top and pulled it on, breathing a short sigh of relief to finally feel slightly less vulnerable. Okay, but you still need pants. Right. Pants. She cringed as she pawed through her duffle bag, realization dawning on her that she’d only brought one pair of pants. Her yoga pants. Which were perfectly nice, comfortable, and even reasonably presentable as yoga pants went, but they were also the pair she’d been wearing— well, mostly wearing— in the Juneau public library when she’d given in to the temptation of Cheri Flambé. A surge of guilt tore through her. Welp. Can’t exactly go pantsless, Lara.
With a hopeless sigh, she tugged them on and glanced out the open doorway, her jaw going slack at the sight of the curvaceously large black woman in the bedroom shimmying into a tight, hot pink dress. How was she supposed to survive a big, noisy, crowded party all night with her friend, the unwitting temptress? And only days from the full moon— and her wedding— when her nerves were already little more than a mass of poorly manufactured, constantly misfiring electrical conductors. But from the way her heart slammed in her chest as the woman she would do anything for smiled at her, she was about to find out.
* * *
Lara hated crowds. This hatred wasn’t new, and as far as she could tell it wasn’t exactly a ‘werewolf thing,’ as most of the other wolves in her pack seemed to have no real trouble with socializing. For as long as she could remember, though, she had been easily overwhelmed by the noise, the scent, the heat of so many bodies happily enjoying a situation she could not. Nothing made her feel more outside, more alone than crowds. And to say the ECCC guest party at the Sheraton was crowded was to say that a flaming chainsaw to the face was unpleasant. Which was to say quite a lot, Lara thought.
But Lara wasn’t saying anything, no matter how much she thought, because Cheri was pulled in a thousand different directions by schmoozers and fans from the moment they stepped into the Greenwood Room, a small conference room with big beautiful windows full of the evening city light. The room itself was full of the evening city nightlife, several of the people Cheri had introduced Lara to at the panel whose names she had forgotten right on schedule dotting the thick mass of humanity that easily outdistanced the official room capacity.
“Can we talk a minute?” one of the men Lara recognized as the television series producer asked Cheri. The woman smiled graciously and grabbed Lara’s hand again, ready to pull her along as the man began leading her off toward the buffet table that was sadly bereft of food but ridiculously overburdened with booze. Cheri hadn’t been kidding about that open bar.
She sent Lara an apologetic half-smile as TV Producer Man veered off the expected course, leading her to one of the windows, quickly monopolizing her attention, his mustached mouth moving quickly by her ear. The young werewolf couldn’t catch a word of their conversation amidst the pulsing throb of the dance music blaring from the sound system. After a few minutes, Cheri attempted to end the discussion in her genteel way, while Lara tried not to notice, not wanting to eavesdrop despite her curiosity. After watching Cheri make two more fruitless attempts to politely extract herself from the conversation, Lara darted to the buffet table and snagged a bottle of butterscotch flavored schnapps she didn’t really need.
“And now for a word from our sponsors,” she declared loudly as she returned to Cheri’s side, giving Mr. Producer her best death glare. He took a startled half-step back, nearly bumping into the window, having suddenly realized he’d come face to face with a natural predator. She grinned wolfishly— was there any other way she could?— and unscrewed the cap, tossing it over her shoulder carelessly and fighting the urge to wince as it smacked some pretty blonde woman in the face. “Want a drink?” she asked Cheri, offering the bottle. Dark eyebrows arched high while the glimmer of a smile tugged at the corners of that tempting mouth.
“Maybe a glass of wine would sit better at the moment,” Cheri answered, turning away from the man still attempting to regain his composure.
“We weren’t finished, Ms. Bouchard—”
“Actually, I think you’ll find we very much are,” Cheri replied smoothly, putting an arm around Lara’s waist and walking with her to the buffet table. “My hero!” she whispered with a giggle in Lara’s ear, making her shiver deliciously. Even if it didn’t mean anything. It still felt amazing to hear Cheri say it. She jostled the bottle in her hand, looking for a witty retort.
“An alcoholic hero?” she settled on, and Cheri rewarded her with an eager laugh that nearly made her overshoot the glass she was filling with red moscato.
“Well now, sugar, that depends. Are you reall
y going to drink that?” she asked, gesturing to the bottle of schnapps with her wine glass before taking a sip. Lara considered the heavy brown glass bottle, then took a long pull. The sweetness was intense, but the burn down her throat was welcome.
“I’m nothing if not committed,” she replied. Cheri laughed again.
“I had noticed that.”
“Is everything alright? Mr. Can’t Take a Hint seemed pretty serious over there.” Cheri frowned, her pretty pouting mouth taking all Lara’s attention for a moment.
“It’s just the nature of the beast. Apparently there’s been more pushback than the network was expecting over having a known porn star in the show.”
“Darrek O’Marley?” Lara asked, working hard to keep the jealous sting out of her voice. Cheri nodded.
“It’s not like he’s the first actor to get his start doing risqué projects,” the woman added, her own voice taking a notably protective tone that wasn’t helping Lara’s jealousy any. “Anyway, it sounds like they might be scouting out a replacement if the hubbub doesn’t simmer down.”
“And you’re not a fan of that idea?” Lara asked, taking another healthy swig of schnapps. Cheri gave her a measured look, then smiled that same perfect, gracious smile Lara had seen her display at the panel and when talking to the TV producer. She instantly regretted her question.
“Darrek’s a better actor than any of them know, sugar,” the woman answered softly, sipping her wine as she looked around the room. Lara bit the inside of her lip and brushed her hair behind her ear, nearly bonking herself in the nose with the bottle while doing so.
“I’m sure he’s wonderful,” she said, hoping to smooth any feathers she’d just managed to ruffle. Cheri’s smile returned to its normal, genuine warmth.