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“How… How can that be possible?” Jacinthe blinked in disbelief.
“Yes… Yes, yes, yes!” Lebanne cheered wildly.
Lebanne pumped her fists and let herself go with vigour. She always knew that if she just kept trying, all she needed was to get lucky once or twice. A critical hit there, a well timed Poison-Type move there. Though, her Galar hook-up helping her get a Duraludon across the border certainly helped too, in combination with her old, reliable ace, Dragalge.
And it was all for this: so just once, she could triumph over Jacinthe in a Pokemon battle.
Not just any Pokemon battle, either, by the way but one which had a wager riding on it. Lebanne wanted a little bit of revenge. She wanted to see Jacinthe styled with her own choices of clothing and make up, something more streetwear than socialite.
Being a woman of her word, Jacinthe had no choice, she surrendered, “Very well, do your worst.”
“With pleasure.” Lebanne licked her lips, an eager snarl to her voice.
Jacinthe had never seen Lebanne so excited before. She was like a child in a candy shop. She took charge with a skip in her step. If Jacinthe had not witnessed it herself, tugged along into the whirlwind that Lebanne stirred, she might not have believed it as she was taken back stage.
Past their parlour and where Pokemon battles were conducted, into their private quarters and even the wardrobe that Jacinthe afforded Lebanne. No expense spared but really. Jacinthe could have sworn that she had had some of the monstrosities that Lebanne was rooting around for thrown out or better yet: burnt.
Oh, they absolute affronted Jacinthe’s sensibilities as she was shown shirts with holes in them and baggy pants and tight leather. It made her sick as Lebanne compared and contrasted before putting together an outfit that she deemed as worthy for her mistress.
Jacinthe had other ideas but she would be true and regal to her word. This was the wager they had bet on. It was the ritual she had put Lebanne through but that was a cleanse, a purification: what was happening to her was rot and decay.
Or so she thought.
“I know you're not thrilled about this,” Lebanne rolled her eyes, “I can practically smell your discomfort but I promise I’m not gonna be mean about it.”
“Going to be mean about it.” Jacinthe corrected her enunciation. She couldn’t help herself and she pompously swept her hair off her shoulders to really stick it to Lebanne.
Lebanne snickered. There was a hazard of a smile on her face as she then proceeded into a lecture. She turned her head and gazed fondly at Jacinthe for all her pomp and splendour, her froufrou frills and soft, fuzzy furs.
“You can still like pink and stuff even if you wanna dress like a rocker.” Lebanne said. “There’re all kinds of pastel Goth and stuff out there but everyone looks good in black so. That’s what I’m going to do today but I know your preferred silhouette, I promise to stick to that”
“Aren’t you so kind a maid to consider my preferences even as you humiliate me.” Jacinthe annoyedly mumbled.
“Hah, so you admit it,” Lebanne sniped, “you do consider this humiliation.”
“That’s different.” Jacinthe attempted to defend herself but she knew well. She had no leg to stand on.
“Anyways, put this on. I think you’ll look quite cute in it, baby bat.” Lebanne teased.
She handed Jacinthe a coat hanger with a shirt on it but Jacinthe had no idea what the hanger’s purpose was given that most the shirt looked like it had been stuck in a shredder. The white loops of what was left of its bottom, she supposed, mimicked the white arcs of fluff that accented her skirt and blazer combo but barely.
She snatched it off Lebanne and regarded it as what it was: hideous. It had some logo for a band she had never seen before but used a Shiny Goomy as part of its design. The pink, with exaggerated purple, was within Jacinthe’s acceptability of colour palette and she clung onto that as she got changed.
With Lebanne’s assistance. Some things never changed despite bets and wagers as it were.
“I think you’ll really like what I’ll have done to you by the time we’re done.” Lebanne whispered.
She pinched a zip at the back of Jacinthe’s neck and pulled down. Her and Lebanne had seen every inch of each other by this point. With or without clothes but still, Jacinthe felt tense so Lebanne made sure to move slowly, without sudden movements. That appeared to help as they wrestled clothes and fabrics to get the shirt onto Jacinthe and somehow.
They managed and without fighting. They even took the next few steps. Jacinthe said goodbye to her skirt and her fishnets. It was a little cool in the wardrobe with the air conditioning up and so, her dark skin prickled.
“You best hurry.” she complained.
“Already one step ahead of ya.” Lebanne said.
“You.” Jacinthe corrected her again but this, too, was part of what Lebanne wanted.
Her old days, her glory days, now shared and mixed with the new. For better or for worse. She massaged Jacinthe’s arms and got them into position for more layering.
“C’mon, this is an obvious one,” Lebanne commented as she helped pull new sleeves onto Jacinthe’s arms to cover them, “you need a leather jacket, too. Here, this is one of mine.”
Jacinthe’s heart wavered. She had to admit. She didn’t mind the scent that the jacket carried. It smelt of Lebanne. Duh. Of the cheap perfume she used to wear and even the sweat of a hard earned battle worked up. It was warm, too, so Jacinthe relaxed into its well worn insides.
They continued on. Jacinthe couldn’t walk around with her bum out, heaven forbid.
“And as for your bottom half, here you go. Fishnets and a skirt.” Lebanne added.
Jacinthe turned around and for her wearing displeasure, Lebanne had yet more prepared.
The fishnets were fine, Jacinthe supposed, she would prefer white for contrast but black was fine. They were also tightly knit where she preferred a large criss-cross for the diamond effect that it gave. If anything it was a safe choice, she had expected more from Lebanne in a way since she had been so excited to finally turn the tables on her mistress.
Thus, to Jacinthe, the fishnets were not as obnoxiously offensive but the skirt absolutely was. The skirt horrified her. It violated her fingertips rule and it had a scandalous slit up its side. The purpose of which had to be for naught given how little it left to the imagination in latex which toed the line between magenta and violet.
But unlike with the shirt and jacket, Jacinthe was perfectly capable of putting these on herself. Lebanne stepped back and admired the view. She wolf whistled as Jacinthe’s legs, the pins of beauty and glory as that they were, were shown off impressively by how she clad them in fishnets.
The skirt, meanwhile, took some maneuvering but she got there in the end. She shimmied it up her legs and over her thighs but that only made the embarrassment that it caused to become all the more real to Jacinthe. It was slim and tight, sleek and squeaky and not at all her style. She squeezed her legs together and Lebanne helped her do up the button on the hip.
“See? Suits you. Ain’t that different for your usual clothes.” Lebanne made fun of her.
“Lebanne,” Jacinthe cut in, utterly scandalised, “how am I meant to bend over without my panties being seen?”
“That’s the fun part,” Lebanne cackled, “you don’t.” She patted Jacinthe on the shoulder for not realising that doozy.
“Oh my.” Jacinthe intoned blankly.
“C’mon, beauty queen, sit down and no one’ll be able to see anythin’ that way.” Lebanne said. “I’ll put some fresh makeup on you.”
If Jacinthe was blank before, she was utterly hollow by now. She sat down on the Ottoman in the middle of the wardrobe and watched as Lebanne flit around. She assembled an artist’s palate and other items of miscellany, too, like setting spray. Jacinthe could only fear what happened next but thankfully.
Lebanne was gentle. She didn’t go overboard. Jacinthe monitored that, she watched as Lebanne’s hand flicked between her face and the various items of makeup she had at her disposal. It didn’t end up heavy but it was certainly different to the natural and understated look that Jacinthe usually wore.
“I know you like glitter, so this eye shadow’ll look really good on you.” Lebanne said.
“As long as I don’t look like a clown afterwards, or a mime!” Jacinthe scolded her.
“Never…” Lebanne murmured.
She focused intently on her brushes and less on Jacinthe. Jacinthe, meanwhile, shrank inwards as she was pampered as so. Lebanne was like an artist, she would have never guessed as she was made Lebanne’s muse and model.
The brushes were soft and underused, Jacinthe would think as she was swirled with various dusts and powders, then set with a spray. She was inked up with a pen and curled with mascara. Some of it was normal to her, other applications and the depth they were taken to were adventurous to say the least.
“Very nice…” Lebanne purred.
“Yes, well…” Jacinthe hesitated. For once, she had no words.
She didn’t know if she ought to decry Lebanne’s hard work or not. Especially as Lebanne gazed so proud at it, too, and mused aloud.
“You know,” Lebanne thought aloud more to herself than Jacinthe, “I got better with this kind of thing thanks to you.”
Jacinthe stubbornly pouted, “Well, I’m glad I’ve been some kind of good influence on you.”
Lebanne then picked up a mirror, “There you go, an understated Goth look but I think glittery eye shadow suits you.”
Jacinthe let go of half a puff of laughter. She was bemused and irritated. If this was understated by alternative measures, she really would look like a clown or mime had Lebanne go the whole way but credit where credit was due. The eye shadow was nice. It was an understated brown with notes of charcoal and black to suit her complexion and the Goth aesthetic but then a hint of white in the form of the glitter.
But it was the lipstick that Lebanne had selected for her. It was the most bold of all as it was a midnight black. The glitter and eye shadow could be ignored as long as Jacinthe kept her eyes open. There was no such solution for the pristine, velvet lipstick applied to her mouth.
It was eye-catching and far too out of Jacinthe’s comfort zone but it must have been Lebanne’s favourite detail because she caressed Jacinthe’s face and held her by her chin. Her thumb stroked the underside of her lip.
“You look so good right now…” Lebanne purred.
Jacinthe shivered. She couldn’t deny a compliment. That would be improper and moreover, she couldn’t deny that wasn’t the exact tone of attraction and allurement she had used when she had scrubbed Lebanne of her gutter trash ways.
“Anyways, whilst you're seated, I’ve got one last thing for you to wear.” Lebanne said.
“Ah, yes, shoes. Those would be helpful.” Jacinthe agreed.
“And I’ve got the perfect pair, don’t you worry.” Lebanne said.
She trotted it off and Jacinthe kicked her legs. That was as close it was going to get to patient with her this afternoon as Lebanne returned with a pair of compers which were huge. They were chunky and had frayed laces, too. Lebanne presented them proudly, with a flourish of her hand as she then delivered her sales pitch for them.
“Believe it or not,” Lebanne slurred, “these boots cost me a small bomb back in the day.”
Jacinthe pouted. She highly doubted that. Nonetheless, she raised her foot and briefly, she felt like Cinderella. She let Lebanne slip her small, dainty feet into these huge, huge boots. Lebanne did them up tightly at their willowy laces and strapped her in. Oh, they were abominations, thick leather that was shiny and black then grey rubber undersides that were erased from use. They had yellow stitching, however, which clashed with their otherwise “worker who belonged on a factory floor” aesthetics.
“Alrighty, you ready to put it all together now…?” Lebanne asked.
“For your amusement, I suppose so.” Jacinthe complained.
Lebanne laughed and watched as Jacinthe struck all the wrong moves for the show off. She twirled and held herself primly. Her body language was dissonant and incompatible with the hand-me-downs and thrift that she wore but with that aside, Lebanne liked what she saw.
She really did.
She thought Jacinthe killed it.
Her legs were shown off by her skirt and her shoulders looked fierce and jaunty thanks to the jacket. To be fair, like Lebanne said, black leather looked good on anyone but especially her. The pops of colour in her shirt and skirt. It wasn’t too much different from what she normally wore if Lebanne lied.
“Eh, we’ve got a little bit more we can do with this.” Lebanne shrugged.
“What could I possibly be missing?” Lacinthe asked, belaboured.
“A statement piece or two.” Lebanne said.
She leaned over and picked up a disused makeup bag. It was sad and frumpy but full to the brim with unearthed treasures, she soon revealed to Jacinthe. She offered them all up on display but it was all junk to Jacinthe.
Plastic and acrylic. Bits and bobs that were chipped and peculiar, lots of motifs of eyes and skulls and cobwebs. Some of it looked hand made and others looked like it came from a secondhand shop. She sighed as Lebanne encouraged her to pick something. Anything, even.
“Pick what you like.” Lebanne said. “Don’t be shy. Wear lots, mix and match, a statement piece does not have to be singular in this subculture.”
Jacinthe did not like the sound of that but she picked through the cluttered jewellery box nevertheless. She chose an assortment of costume jewellery that she would consider “understated”. Unadorned rings and bangles, a glass bead necklace, small things such as those. She didn’t quite take Lebanne’s bait as she gave the box a rattle – and gosh, what cacophony that was but in the end, she was content enough with the selection.
Now accessorised and decked out for, well, the zeroes of society, Jacinthe stood up and allowed Lebanne to get her fill of the ridiculous outfit that had been cobbled together. Every movement, Jacinthe jangled and jingled. She felt like a poser. Possibly worse than a poser and yet.
Lebanne was head over heels.
“Y-You look good.” Her words got caught in her throat as her eyes bugged.
“Well, if one is graceful enough, even a potato sack would look fashionable.” Jacinthe supposed.
“True, true,” Lebanne said in seeming agreement, “but even a little bit of stylisation and customisation is necessary.”
“Is there still something not to your dissatisfaction?” Jacinthe asked.
“Eh, not quite.” Lebanne replied.
Jacinthe pouted. She puzzled over what Lebanne could possibly mean. She watched her maid stroke her chin and look her up and down. There was nothing lurid to the gesture, it was analytics and Lebanne appeared to have made up her mind as to what was truly out of place with Jacinthe without being Jacinthe herself.
“Yeah, all that’s left is the finishing touch,” Lebanne said with a smirk. “ and I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
She stepped back and came down to her knees. She placed her hands either side of Jacinthe’s legs. Jacinthe bristled at the unusual touches.
“Pardon? What do you think you're doing?” Jacinthe’s hackles raised.
“You can’t be pretty in punk without a little bit of wear and tear, mistress.” Lebanne replied.
Jacinthe was galled by the notion, there was nothing she hated more than imperfection but at the same time. Her heart wavered as Lebanne demonstrated rather unusual strength.
She ripped Jacinthe’s black, fishnet tights on purpose. She created gaping holes and tears. They looked… fashionable, Jacinthe supposed, if she squinted and thought about skateboarders and their lot, but it was Lebanne’s white knuckles and twitching forearm muscles that she was more allured to.
Shame that Lebanne had to let go so soon.
She rose to her full height and smirked, she folded her arms in front of her, “So, what do you think? Ready to hit the rock show after this?”
“I think not!” Jacinthe replied, flustered. “I will not be seen in public in such… such… appalling attire!”
Lebanne chuckled, “Aw, c’mon, mistress, you know you like it…”
She stepped closer. There was a saunter to her gait and a swagger in her voice. She furthered her hands, she didn’t quite touch Jacinthe but her hands hovered by the belt loops of her skirt.
“This is for your eyes only.” Jacinthe budged that inch.
“I can work with that.” Lebanne cocked her head. “Maybe I can give you a private show.”
They brushed up against each other. Hip to hip. It wasn’t quite grinding but it was close. Intimate. Jacinthe smirked.
“I suppose I would have no qualms with that,” Jacinthe said and she squinted, mischievous, “so long as I get to pick the set list.”
Lebanne suppressed a complaint but she could feel the growl in the notch of her throat, “Fine.” she replied. “I think I can live with that.”
“Good.” Jacinthe replied.
Jacinthe leaned in and coaxed Lebanne into kissing her. She placed her hands on Lebanne’s body: not quite on her chest for that would be uncouth but close, on her upper arms.
With pleading eyes, Jacinthe tilted her head up and Lebanne sighed. She closed her eyes and took the lead. She kissed just how Jacinthe liked it. A little bit of pressure here, a swipe of her tongue here. It was darling and routine in how it was exactly how Jacinthe expected their kiss to be.
Lebanne’s mouth was warm and soft. She was scented ever so softly of the most luxe perfumes that Jacinthe could afford for her maid. Yet, something distracted her as they went back and forth in the kiss.
Jacinthe fidgetted. She flattened Lebanne’s collar and made sure nothing was out of order. There wasn’t so much as a crinkle or crease in the silk that Lebanne wore, her Mega Stone proudly displayed, and most importantly of all: her insubordination was reigned back in despite the minor win that she had incurred today.
Next time, Jacinthe would win and all would be right in their neat, polite world of roles as mistress and servant. There would be no more of this “pretty in punk” nonsense but for now, Jacinthe would allow Lebanne to cherish the fleeting victory and the rips in her fishnets.