Cruelle, Darling

...The Viper's Pet~Pt. 2

~Author's Note: For those of you who are new: STOP! There's an installment before this since this is kinda like a sequel. Link is provided down below!! :) (Smile)~
~For others, glad to see ya!! Note that when you live in an apt. and someones buzzes for you floor, it's considered "calling". Enjoy~

You're surprised when Cruelle dismisses you from your "muse job" for today and, instead, hands you blank checks and tells you to buy yourself jewelry, shoes, and a hair appointment. You know there's no use trying to turn it down, so you accept and head into town.

It isn't till you're buying a pair red pumps after a faux pearl bracelet and earrings-you aren't comfortable burning too much of his money-that you realize you've been constantly wondering "Would Cruelle like these?", "Would Cruelle think they match his dress?", "Would he think I look beautiful in them?"

Jesus. That personal love confession really screwed you up... Not wanting to push your luck with it all, you decide to call it quits and do your own hair to spare yourself the hassle of considering Cruelle's reaction.

Tonight, you have to force yourself to sleep despite your buzzing nerves. The ball isn't for hours and yet you feel like getting ready right now. You continually glance at the dress hanging on the door, fingers twitching, and it takes all your willpower to slip into unconsciousness. Unfortunately, when you wake up you're no better off. You rush about busying yourself with meaningless tasks to keep the excitement at bay.

Excitement for what, exactly? The ball? Meeting famous people? The paparazzi that will see you with Cruelle?

Cruelle... You pause at the thought of him, a soft, meek smile pulling at your lips. How unusual that you calm with him on your mind rather than the opposite. Is this what love does? Unrequited love, perhaps. You sigh and finally settle down to do something productive.

Soon you phone vibrates. It's a text from Cruelle: "Little bee, I'm arranging for my chauffeur Calvin to pick you up at 7 o'clock. Considering it's already 5, I highly suggest you start getting ready. I've seen firsthand how long it takes you... Ta-ta~"

"It's 5?!" you gasp and look at the clock. It is, sure enough, so you bolt to your bathroom and simultaneously strip. Against your rule of thumb, you decide to put the dress on last less you ruin it amidst your returned excitement and start by putting your (h/c) hair in an elegant yet messy up-do, followed my make-up-you paint your lips and nails a stunning crimson-and the matching faux pearl earrings and bracelet.

You breathe out and shake your hands. "Okay...dress time," you say and shuffle over to the suddenly intimidating present in your bedroom, hesitating in front of it. The hesitation isn't because you're worried it won't fit-Cruelle is a seamstress extraordinaire-but because you have a doubt whether or not you'll be worthy of something so undoubtedly perfect, like a pigeon with gold feathers, or an Amish person with a flat screen TV. This angst stalls you for almost ten minutes.

"He wanted to make it unique just for you."

Roxanne's unintentionally endearing words relax you. "Just for me..." you repeat. That's right, Cruelle doesn't want to see anyone in the dress but you, his precious muse. Smiling, you wrap yourself in his present and slip the pumps on just as there's a buzz at the intercom.

"One sec!" you call out and hurry to the button. "Hello?"

"Darling, for the love of the Queen in a leather coat, move in with me. It's bloody depressing to think you live in a place so...repulsive," a sultry voice comes.

"Cruelle?! What're you doing here?"

"I told you you were getting picked up at 7, did I not?"

You blush and smile. "You did, I just didn't think you'd personally call me."