Page 56 of Just Dare Me
I slump my shoulders with a glum face. “Don’t tempt me.”
Dominique’s French accent cuts in. “I own just such an island, in the gulf of St. Lawrence.”
We’re not surprised to see that of course she’s overdressed for the occasion—not to mention the setting—in a form-fitting black gown with flourish-y things and lacey things and crystal-looking things. Look, I don’t know what you call this stuff, okay? Just picture something you’d see on a fashion runway at midnight in a New Orleans cemetery.
She continues while we gawk. “When I vacation there, I demand no less than five of the most capable men of my clan for constant pleasuring. I could extend this service to you.”
Nora is first to untie her tongue. “Oh, that’s…so generous of you.”
“Constant pleasuring?” I blurt.
“Five men,” Dominique reiterates.
Nora clasps her hands together. “I mean, that sounds wonderful, but I’m pretty much covered in that area.”
“Totally covered,” I say.
Dominique gives a thoughtful nod. “Of course. A siren queen could demand—would require, in fact—several episodes of pleasure every day. Five or six times, I imagine.”
Nora says casually, “Yeah, or just once with Ilren.”
Dominique’s eyes widen, and she steps forward. “Who? Is he here now?”
When Nora stammers, I decide now’s a good time to step in. I call out to Jay, waving him over. “Okay, Dominique, Madam of Midnight, Queen of Thirstiness, remember how I said I had something special to give you?”
Her eyes light up. “You will give me Jay for one night?”
“Yeah, no. Not him.” I gesture to the chatty, oblivious blonde in a chic princess dress following on Jay’s heels. “Her.”
Elle sees me and is starting to say something when her eyes fall on Dominique. Her mouth hangs open, emitting a high-pitched squeak, like air leaking from a tire. Her eyes move up and down Dominique’s designer dress—up and down, up and down—and now she steps to the side and the back, then the other side, studying the gown from all angles while whispering such reverent words asMulberry silk,Swarovski crystals,vintage cape overlay.
Dominique recoils, as though Elle might carry some sort of disease. “Who is this creature?”
“That’s Elle. And she doesn’t have to ask who you’re wearing, because she’ll be able to tell you in about two seconds.”
Right on cue, Elle rejoins us with a stunned look. “Except that I don’t dare dream this could be real. I’d say it was Givenchy, which would be incredible by itself, but some elements are Chanel, only more like a Chanel-inspiredreplica of a Jacques Doucet, which—I know I don’t have to tell any of you—would be, like, the Holy Grail of fashion.”
Now it’s Dominique whose mouth gapes open and her eyes that move up and down Elle’s tiny frame with wonder. “It’s not a replica of Jacques Doucet, it’s anoriginal, which, over the years, I have had altered in keeping with modern trends—first by Coco Chanel, who was a personal friend of mine, and, most recently, by Givenchy himself. But to recognize by name the handiwork not of one butthreedifferent designers is beyond belief. I demand to know two things: who are you, and can I keep you?” She appeals to me. “Can I keep her?”
Elle hops up and down, clapping her hands. “Yes, yes, keep me. Chain me up in your closet. You do have more dresses like this?”
“Oh, mansions full.”
“Do you spend whole days trying them on?”
“Whole weeks.”
“While eating nothing but cake?”
“With martinis.”
Elle squeals with delight. “Can’t you just imagine yourself having sex with a dress like that?”
“I can, and I do.”
I throw my hands up to stop this runaway train. “Anyway! Elle, meet Lady Dominique, Queen of the Windsor clan. She just recently went on the market and could use something of a guide into the wide world of dating the modern man. And since you’re the expert in all things man-flesh, I figured you could show her the ropes.”
“Wait.” Elle gazes at Dominique with glistening eyes. I swear she’s on the verge of tears. “Wait. You’re fashion eliteandyou need a matchmaker?” Keeping her eyes on the vampire queen, Elle feels blindly for me, then pulls me in close, wrapping her arms around me. “Pretend this is you, okay? I just don’t want to touch the gown.”
