Like a fool Jallen Delete dropped a bundle on a Brioni suit.
He'd adopted tweed for his summer job at the Magick College to project a scholarly image. Any soiree at Runesgate Manor was special, and he wanted to dress that way. Zoey could not help but approve. He now knew she was none too keen on the way he kitted himself out. He had a game to play at college, not ruffling any tail feathers of resident strutting peacocks. With few exceptions like Zoey, he left all birds alone and did his best to get along with the students and staff. Zoey was serious and bright, she disliked pretentious people who put on airs. Hogfarts was full of that. Now that he knew her Zoey seemed more adult than most of the rest in his classes.
Jallen could still slide the panties off most female student admirers if so inclined (or so he thought) but unsurprisingly they all lacked in worldly experience. He desired a little intelligent conversation between all the heart stopping sexual interaction. None of the other girls had Zoey's good looks either, or her goddess body. Jallen also sensed none of his groupies capable of keeping him interested long, in or out of bed.
She and he had only seen each other in class since the rainstorm, keeping a discreet distance in order not to draw attention to any kind of relationship they might have. Girls still gathered around his desk after the lesson and he sighed when Zoey left the room each day. Although Jallen still enjoyed the attention of his groupies, as Zoey liked to refer to them, he thought about her more than he cared to admit to himself. What man wouldn't? The fact they would attend a party together cheered him. When they talked on the phone at night she always sounded genuinely eager and engaged. He reminded himself not to get too serious about Zoey each time she invaded his daydreams.
The day of the night of the summer solstice affair Zoey told him on the phone, "Don't fret over appearances and pick me up at my grandmother's."
"You've not let her know you're going out with one of your teachers, have you?" he asked.
"No, not that I care," Zoey blustered. "She won't be anywhere near the house anyhow. Her Seven Suits club meets on Saturday nights. Granny's turn to host was last week, so she'll be out of here by six. The old girls usually sup at The Hare & Half Moon, have a little natter before adjourning to one of their cottages. Who knows where they're breaking out the cards this evening."
"Seven Suits, eh? Never have understood the game."
"Neither would I if granny hadn't taught me. I've been playing Seven Suits since I was a kid."
"Are you any good?"
A low sexy laugh purred over the line in his ear. "Assuming you don't know how to play I'm at least good enough to take your money."
"I'll bet, but not against you. What's a good time to pick you up then?"
"No later than eight, I'd say. Distrikt 33 is an hour's drive from 14."
"Not if we take my helicopter."
"Tell me you're joking."
"Actually the bloody thing's been grounded. No rotors."
"How disappointing. If we were going on a regular date and not to a costume party it would take me no time to get ready. We could give my mattress a bounce too before dinner and a film. As it is I'm undergoing elaborate costuming preparations for Lady Rowling-Boyle. Or more honest, I'm dressing up for you."
"You got my heart beating like twelve drummers drumming now. What kind of costume, love?"
"Ohh no you don't. Tell me what you're going as? The man in tweed?"
"You spoiled my surprise," he sniffed. "The only clue I can give is I've decided against a Derby. Other than that, Zoey, top secret."
"Same here, so no more questions. Women should keep their men guessing, don't you think?"
Jallen dodged the question. "It always seems that way to me."
He parked under the oak at five till eight. Zoey must've been looking out the window, before he rang the bell she opened the door. She hid behind it with only her face in view. Her eyes stunned him, twice the size than when she sat in a desk at Hogfarts. The eye shadow must've taken hours and been applied by an artist, bubble gum pink with a stark edge of yellow closest to the bridge of her nose. Sprinkled glitter dotted her skin from the far corner of each eye to the tops of her made-up cheekbones (soft red) that deliberately crossed over the line of tasteful into slutty garishness. Pink lip gloss made her mouth seem fuller than normal, her pout advertising it craved more than an ice lolly to put in it. Zoey's heart shaped face alone could stop his own heart at fifty feet.
The majority of her long blonde hair hung in two thick braids, one on each naked shoulder. Both plaits were decorated with two small ribbon bows apiece, one powder blue, the other pink. One rubber band secured the end of each braid, one pink, one blue. Long unbraided tendrils of hair twisted together drooped down both sides of her head, a mixture of untidy perfection and cosmopolitan sexy. Zoey wore no earrings or jewelry but a black velvet choker accented the whiteness of her neck. A sheer bone white minidress left most of her breasts bare and hugged her curves from beneath her arms just down to the bottom of her bottom. Jallen could effortlessly distinguish the division between the individual cheeks of her ass through the dress, the colour of her nipples and the blue bikini panties sunk between her clenched thighs. Strategic circles cut out of the material left her vulnerable tummy bare in front and displayed her dimples of Venus in back. She lurched around in with high platform soled rubber shoes a brighter red than her cheekbones.
"Fuckin' hell, Zoey. You've pulled off the naive little lady look, above your kissable neck anyway. If not for your gravity defying chest protectors and black girl ass I'd mistake you for someone younger."
She stuck her pierced tongue out at him. "That's not nice, professor, but spoken somewhat like a poet. I can judge the overall effect anyway just by reading your dick-o-meter approval rating myself." She cupped his genitals through the front of his silk trousers. "Mmm, the highest ranking possible, the 'hard as Chinese arithmetic' category," she murmured. Her eyes got real wide when she first noticed a change in him for the first time. "Look at you. Mister Shave-and-a-Haircut-Six-Bits. Without the sidies you changed your face."
"Is it not just new, but improved?" he wanted to know.
"To tell the truth, yeah, I think so."
"Really now?" he glowed.
He was fishing for a compliment and she gave it to him. "You look more modern, younger. That's a helluva Brioni suit, tapered sleeves and trouser legs. No pinstripes, no pleats, good good. Are you masquerading as a banker or something?"
"Or something I guess. I'll put a mask on before we go inside. Shame, this suit cost as much as a car. What do you call your costume? Virgin sacrifice?"
"Bloodthirsty cultists please check your sacrificial daggers at the door. I lost my eligibility a while ago."
"You could still pass for a virgin."
"Poppycock, to quote my granny, and get on with yourself. Only way I'd pass would be if you performed the hymen exam. Takes just two fingers."
"Happy to lend a hand if the need arises."
"We'll talk about what arises after the party."
"I don't even want to go now. You look good enough to eat y'know."
"I'd let you if I hadn't just spent two hours slaving over a hot mirror." She touched a playful fingertip to her lips and struck a pose. "And what about your decadently expensive new suit? You've dressed to impress so why would you want to waste the effect? Your loins are girded in Brioni armour for entering high society, not a Wellie toss behind a fucking pub. People you'll likely meet tonight are astronomically wealthy and politically expedient, a common recurring link. Whatever the ramifications, at least you're dressed for the occasion."
"If I crash and burn I've kept the receipt," he said, "I can always return the bloody suit before month's end."
"It is unfortunate to have prearranged plans, but we can't let down Lady Anyys now can we. Ready?"
