A Beauteous Flower

Chapter 3 - The Sisterhood

*****

Madison woke to her alarm later that morning, disappointed that the Faceless Man had not returned to consummate her dreams. No matter how she tried she simply couldn't conjure him at will, like any of her other fantasies. It seemed that, unlike every other man she had known, the Faceless Man did not make command appearances. As she cast off her bedclothes and stood up, Madison ruefully thought that next time she had the Dream, whenever that was, she would fight to stay asleep until the Faceless man finished the deed.

Once on her feet, Madison glanced at her reflection. She looked sleepy, but for a first look just freshly out of bed, it wasn't bad at all. A hot shower with a trim here and a pluck there and a shave in the other place and she would be right as rain. Madison shrugged into her robe and headed out to the kitchen.

The large, four-bedroom apartment Madison lived in was on the top floor of a trendy building in a trendy complex just a few miles from the team facilities. The complex was full of young professionals and the pool at the center of the complex was the social hub. In the complex grapevine, the apartment Madison and her roommates lived in had a reputation as "the hot girl lair" and Madison and her roommates made every effort to live up to that reputation. They called themselves the Boss Bitch Bunch, and in the apartment Madison and her three roommates, Adalina, Ivy and Deva laughed and danced and planned their lives as Mrs. Somebody.

Madison met her roommates when she joined the dance team. Adalina and Ivy were veterans, while Deva was another rookie. The two girls that lived with Adalina and Ivy the previous year had left the dance team for married life with two well-placed men. Deva moved in before Madison to fill one space. Another girl had reserved the fourth space, but she was cut from the team due to an oversized tattoo on her thigh that showed when she put the uniform on. Thus, Madison got the spot.

As Madison entered the kitchen, Adalina and Ivy bent conspiratorially over their daily crossword puzzle. They were college roommates and best friends, and they always did a crossword puzzle together each morning. Madison muttered "good morning" while she shuffled for a cup of coffee to clear the morning fog from her head. Adalina smiled, Ivy nodded and then they bent in unison back to the puzzle. They were an odd set of best friends because their individual affects were so totally opposite. Adalina was sugar, and Ivy was cinnamon.

Adalina, a team Captain, was blockbuster of a woman. She was twenty-seven, which made her one of the oldest girls on the team, and at five feet and two inches tall, she was also one of the shortest girls on the team. Her shiny chocolate cake hair tumbled over her shoulders and ample bust in tight natural rings. She had an oval face with a button nose that separated two iridescent brown eyes under luscious black lashes. Her smile was a white explosion between her puffy, red lips. Her body was rounded, but not fat, and her smooth almond skin described one spectacular curve after another.

She oozed confidence and joyful power and the more eyes that were on her, the more star power she exuded. Adalina was the only person Madison had ever seen with enough star power to seduce 70,000 people simultaneously. She eye-flirted incessantly and when Adalina strutted out to the center of the field, a hush of anticipation would fall over the crowd. Then she would shake her pom poms and slowly raise them up and the volume of crowd noise would go from two to ten in the time it took her to raise her arms over her head. As her hands crested, she would throw back her head of glorious curls and every fan in the place would lose their minds.

But the thing the fans loved most was what Adalina called the "giggle-jiggle". At each game or appearance, Adalina would get a sly look on her face and then throw her hands over her head into a high, double handed wave and pop her knees so that her curves and cleavage would jiggle in perfect rhythm. When Adalina did her filthy-sweet giggle-jiggle, every eye in the room focused on her and received the double handed kiss she blew out as a dismount.

Whenever the dance team did publicity events, the line to meet Adalina was always the longest. She happily signed autographs, beamed for pictures, and gently teased each admirer in a faux Hispanic accent that made her sound like Charo. In truth, Adalina had been born in the USA and in private had no accent to speak of, but the fans got giddy when she put on the fake accent, so she gave the fans what they wanted.

In the apartment, Adalina always went barefoot and wore sloppy fit sweatpants and baggy, cut-up sweatshirts that she appropriated from past boyfriends. She loved to put her little feet up on the furniture, and once she propped herself up into a position, she didn't like to move, so she would call for people to bring her things. She would produce an enormously loud snap with her small fingers and exclaim, "'EY!" as she pointed to what she wanted.

When it was time to go out, Adalina stopped the show. As loose and comfortable as her home clothes were, Adalina's "night out" clothes were that daring and tight. Her skintight mini dresses barely covered her butt and always showed generous amounts of cleavage. Mounted on skyscraper heels, Adalina would wage a sexy tug of war all night long, and hauled her skimpy dresses up and down as she flirted with the line between a "PG" and an "R" rating. Others might get uncomfortable, but Adalina was never shy about the amount of skin she showed.

And when it came to night's out, anyone who wanted to have fun made a point to hang out with Adalina. At any moment Adalina might launch into a dance routine or turn a cartwheel and thus garner the attention of every hot single guy in the facility. A night out with Adalina always produced memorable stories, usually sore feet from all the dancing, and sometimes led to interesting adventures with interesting people.

Before she had even met Adalina, Madison heard reverent stories of a night out when, upon discovery that she was a professional cheerleader, two hot guys bet her that she couldn't do an aerial in her stiletto heels, and Adalina was only too happy to take up the challenge. That aerial landed Adalina and her friends on a yacht full of hot young bachelors for a weekend and made Adalina the team party legend. Three girls got new powerhouse boyfriends, one of which later married her catch. It was also darkly rumored that the escapade resulted in one pregnancy, but no one seemed to know exactly who got pregnant, so Madison considered that part of the story apocryphal. Adalina was a cheerleader's cheerleader, and her life was an exclusively VIP only party that everyone longed to join.

Ivy, by contrast, was more reserved, but a no less forward and strong personality. A sculpted Midnight-angel with a ruthless touch, every inch of Ivy smacked of gothic sexuality complete with a naked dance under the full moon and a cup of blood red wine. She had raven wing hair parted in the middle with razor straight ends. Her eyes were a hypnotic, lobo-gray, which contrasted with her fair skin, and she didn't blink much. Even her puffy red smile had a pouty and morose edge to it. She was average height, and she could have used a few pounds, but despite her lack of body fat she sported big natural breasts. If anyone challenged her on the fact that her breasts were natural, she would give them a cool gray stare and assure them that they would never know the answer to that question. Ivy embodied secret, dark and delicious sin.

Ivy had a keen intellect to go with her sinfully good looks. She was brilliant and a quick wit, which let her skewer overconfident suitors with barbed remarks that only failed to steal their confidence if they were too stupid to realize that she mocked them. Maybe she was too wan and frail to bite people's heads off, but she always left her fang marks on their neck.

Any girl on the team who wanted advice on investments or finances went to Ivy. She studied finance in college and had a business head on her shoulders. She socked away a large portion of her salary into investments and wasn't above a coupon or two when she shopped. A good deal, be it either on a jar of peanut butter or an initial public offering of stock, was her jam, and when it came to money everything about Ivy was prudent and thought out.

She did, however, have one area she splurged in and that was shoes. Ivy loved shoes and had a closet chock full of designer brands that was the envy of the entire team. She bought heavy, but she never bought speculatively. When she bought a pair of shoes, she already knew which outfit it went with. Her wardrobe was mostly tight sheath dresses and clingy sweater dresses that highlighted her thin frame and big breasts, so she could pull an outfit in a matter of minutes. But when it came to which shoes to wear, Ivy would line up at least half a dozen pairs and try each pair on in front of the mirror where she would twist and turn and walk and strut to get a good look at how they appeared from every angle. It drove everyone else crazy while they waited, but Madison had to admit that when it came to shoe selection, Ivy never missed.

As a cheerleader, Ivy was an acquired taste for the fans, like fine Scotch whisky; a layered and tangy flavor with a little bite at the end. Where other girls on the team smiled and vamped for attention, Ivy pouted and puffed like she was bored and did not care in the least if anyone paid attention.

Ivy's fans were not a huge legion, but their loyalty was absolute and singular. Other girls on the team referred to them as "Ivy's minions". At events, her fans stood politely and waited for her to acknowledge them, and after she deigned to recognize them, they silently trailed behind her like a knot of enthralled subjects. Once she took them in tow, Ivy mostly ignored them, but every so often Ivy would look over her shoulder with sultry eyes and blow them a succulent red tease of a kiss. If Ivy felt especially generous, she produced a black Sharpy pen and bestowed a flowing autograph, usually on the lucky fan's arm or chest, that simply read "Ivy". Ivy's fans were maniacal in their devotion, and it would not have surprised Madison to find out that Ivy could call them up in the middle of the night and ask them to help her bury a dead body.

While Adalina and Ivy whispered over the crossword, Madison got her mug down from the cupboard and poured herself some motivation. She took her first sip of the day as the bathroom door popped open, and Madison's best friend Deva strolled out clad in a towel and a Mona Lisa smile. As always, every eye on the room turned to Deva's graceful form. All the women on the dance team were remarkably pretty. That was a foregone conclusion. But Deva was drop dead gorgeous and everyone, including Deva, knew it.

Everything Deva did was graceful and measured and quietly elegant. She had a fluidly poised presence that commanded attention and awed everyone around her. As a dancer she was flawless because when Deva danced her movements were precise and enticingly liquid and even her thick and lustrous black hair moved exactly on the beat. The effect was nothing short of enchanting and wherever she went she inspired unrequited lust in men. She also inspired several little jealousies in women.

Obviously the first jealousy Deva inspired was over her looks. Deva reminded Madison of an enigmatic goddess, a powerful seductress of sultry and erotic femininity. She was a curvaceous but firmly toned woman with flawless, supple brown sub-continent skin. Her chest was full, her hips were generous, and her legs were long and defined. She had a trim oval face and a large pair of moist henna eyes that could soothe a hurricane. With a single suggestively veiled glance of those henna eyes, Deva could ensnare anyone into a hopeful orbit around her. In the final analysis Deva was irresistibly, but unattainably pretty and smoldered exotic sexuality, like the coals of a dying midnight fire.

The second jealousy was Deva's magical power over men. A massive legion of attentive and attractive men orbited around Deva, and they made things appear and disappear at her request. She was their unattainable sovereign, elusive and sultry, and they hurried to serve her like good vassals. If she needed something done there were always men around, but Deva treated them like a plumber or repairman. The men came in, did their job, and left with their reward of a sultry bat of Deva's moist henna eyes coupled with a breathy "thank you SO much!" Her admirers fell over themselves and each other to be nice to her, yet in return she only tantalized them, just out of reach. Deva could have had any one of them without any real effort on her part, yet she didn't partake of any of them. When a curious Madison asked Deva why she didn't simply choose the best of them and release the rest back into the wild, Deva smiled her smokey smile and told Madison that if she picked one of them, she would have to give up the rest of them, and in her considered opinion that would just be a waste of good men. No one seemed offended though. Maybe they all intuitively knew that Deva was a kind of gorgeous that was completely beyond them, and none of them had a hope in hell of anything more than a smile and a few airy words from Deva.

While this strange power over men made other women a touch jealous, that jealousy never had a chance to flare into real ire because if some other woman managed to cut a man out of Deva's herd of hopefuls, Deva did not mind at all. To her, men were sweetly fungible, just like candy. Also, Deva was not the "steal your boyfriend" kind of woman, even though she easily could have been. Thus, Deva's generosity with her enormous pack of thralls and her "hands off" approach to other women's boyfriends, allowed the women around Deva, including Madison, to be comfortable and lessened that little jealousy.

To go with her devastating good looks, Deva also had impeccable fashion sense, which every woman automatically envied without mitigation. Even the old throw on clothes she wore around the apartment described her body in the most elegantly seductive way. That envy got worse when Deva dressed to go out. Her party clothes were always a touch exotic and covered her body, yet seemed as though they might slip from her body and reveal the perfection underneath. In her head, Madison imagined that little birds flew in the window every morning and dressed Deva while she combed out her glorious black tresses.

Deva's diet was also another point of jealousy. She had a powerful sweet tooth and candy was a regular staple of her diet. Her preferred snack was a plastic bag full of a jumble of Raisinettes, Peanut M&Ms and Reese's Pieces. Deva laughingly referred to it as trail mix and always carried some in her backpack or purse. To Madison, and other women, it didn't seem fair that someone as gorgeous and slim as Deva could eat all those chocolate calories and never gain an ounce.

However, the twin clouds of the distant lust of men and the tepid jealousy of women never seemed to effect Deva in the slightest. Ultimately, no one, Madison included, knew much about Deva beyond the superficial. Along with her good looks, poise and charisma, Deva fostered an air of mystery. She never gossiped or shared with the girls. When they went out, she would listen to the other girls intently and was sympathetic to those who told tales of woe. However, she never judged or gave advice and she never asked for any. Deva, it seemed, was an island unto herself and as a result only very little was known.

They were an eclectic group, to be sure. A strange mishmash of personalities and tastes. However they were all unified by one principle; they knew they were pretty, and they knew that their looks bought them unfettered access to high-value men. And their shared goal was to find a man that could provide the kind of life that their kind of woman wanted.