Part 3
Waltzing into the salon as if she owned the place, Cordelia confidently strode up to the front desk and explained the reason for their visit. Nodding obligingly, the cool as a cucumber receptionist immediately ushered Angel through to the treatment area out back.
As he reluctantly trailed along at the young woman’s heels, the vampire turned to shoot a beseeching look back at his seer, feeling like a little boy lost in a department store. Wholly indifferent to his plight though, Cordelia just waggled her fingers at him in farewell, her hazel eyes sparkling with silent laughter.
“If you’d like to hop up on the bed, Mr Angel, Shelley will be along in a few moments.” With that bright and breezy instruction, the impossibly manicured female drew the pale blue curtains closed with a smooth swish, and left the jittery vampire to his own devices.
How the hell did I get myself into this? Angel thought to himself, as he sat down on the treatment table and took in his confined surroundings.
The lighting in the small cubicle was subdued, but that didn’t make the place seem any less sterile and uninviting. A glass-fronted cupboard stood against one wall, with row upon tow of beauty products stashed inside, and several neat piles of towels stowed on top. Next to the bed, was a trolley on wheels, which held a trio of white plastic bottles, several pairs of surgical gloves, and – intriguingly – what appeared to be some kind of baseball mitt.
Pushed away in the far corner was some sort of torture device – at least that’s what it looked like to the vampire. The scary-looking machine had several dials on the front, and a metallic probe on the end of a piece of coiled flex, attached to the side. Angel did not even want to *think* about what it was used for; whatever it was, it didn’t look very pleasant, that was for sure.
His vampiric senses tingled then, informing him of another presence in the room, and he whipped his head round to confront the interloper. A small woman, in her mid thirties, stood at the end of the bed, watching him with an amused glint in her eye.
She was dressed in a pastel blue, calf-length dress, its wraparound style obviously chosen to emphasise her curvaceous figure to its maximum effect. Her hair was a deep burnished red and coiled up into a loose topknot, with a few wispy strands left free to frame her strikingly beautiful face. Her large almond-shaped eyes were deep violet in colour, a shade that Angel had never seen in a human before.
“Hello – I’m Shelley. You must be Mr Angel,” she introduced herself in a rich contralto voice, holding out her right hand towards him in greeting.
Angel shook her hand, noting that she had long elegant fingers, despite her short stature, while her slim wrists looked as if they would normally be adorned with a collection on thin, decorative bangles. Sniffing cautiously, he tried to ascertain if she was human or not, but the results proved inconclusive. Beneath the light floral perfume she wore, the beautician smelt mostly homo sapien, but there was an underlying, unearthly aroma there, the origin of which the vampire couldn’t quite place.
Shelley’s generously proportioned lips curled up into a quirky half-smile, and Angel got the distinct impression that she had read his actions like an open book. This opinion was further compounded when her laser-sharp eyes made a slow and deliberate pass over every inch of his muscular body, an unspoken challenge shining in her indigo orbs as she gave him a thorough once over.
“So – you’re here for a self-tan patch test, correct?” she enquired politely, when her calm, unruffled gaze eventually settled back on his face.
“Umm – yeah, I guess I am.”
“Okay then, Mr Angel – if you’d just like to take off your jacket and shirt, we’ll get started.”
***
Cordelia absently flipped over the page of the magazine, not really reading it, her thoughts elsewhere. At first, it had seemed funny to abandon the, obviously petrified, Angel to his fate, but then a twisted knot of anxiety had begun to develop in the pit of her stomach.
What if the St Tropez treatment resulted in spontaneous combustion, and he vamped out and went all growly in the middle of the salon? She’d never be able to show her face in here again!
When the horrifying reality of that sank in, the seer bolted out of her seat, knocking her copy of Cosmo to the floor and moving quickly in the direction of the treatment cubicles.
“Excuse me, Miss Chase? You can’t go back there…” the receptionist called after her.
“Pfft!” Cordelia threw back over her shoulder, dismissing the woman’s objections with a curt wave of her hand as she went through into the back.
In her blind haste to get to Angel, before he got her barred from the salon, she pulled back the curtain of the first occupied treatment area, not fully considering the consequences.
“Hey! What the hell?”
Uh-oh!
The indignant objection came from the woman on the bed, who lay, legs akimbo, obviously in the process of having her bikini line waxed.
“Sorry, I was just… Wow! Is that a Brazilian? Doesn’t that hurt like holy hell, and then itch to high heaven afterwards?”
“My boyfriend likes it,” the young woman said defensively, before her blue eyes narrowed frostily when she realised that she’d been tricked into engaging in conversation with this bold as brass intruder.
“Okaay… I think I’ll be going now,” Cordelia said, hurriedly backing out of the cubicle and away from the artic death-stare aimed in her direction.
Tugging the curtain closed, the seer shut her eyes and concentrated her senses on locating Angel’s powerful presence in the vicinity.
She didn’t know when, or where, she’d learned how to do this, it just sort of happened. A consequence of being his seer, perhaps? She wasn’t really sure. Not that it mattered – it meant that the vampire could no longer sneak up on her unawares; she always knew his whereabouts when he was close by.
Quickly pinpointing him in the far cubicle on the right, Cordelia opened her eyes and strode down the corridor, quietly slipping into the treatment room, unannounced.
“Cordy!” Angel exclaimed, relief flooding through him as he took in her familiar and soothing countenance.
The vampire sat on the treatment bed, his pale muscular torso exposed from the waist upwards, and the seer’s warm hazel eyes turned to stone-cold flint as she absorbed the scene before her.
Okay, so exactly why does he need to be half-naked for a patch test? she thought to herself, swiftly moving to hover jealously over her man.
She glared at an unrepentant Shelley, who shrugged her shoulders as if to say ‘Hey girl! You can hardly blame me.’
Curiously, the fact that the beautician was completely unapologetic about her actions caused Cordelia to relax her protective stance. She couldn’t say for sure how she knew, but it seemed that Shelley had a look, but don’t touch, policy with regard to her clients.
Given that Angel was the pure definition of the word ‘hottie,’ she couldn’t really condemn the woman for checking out his, not so inconsiderable, attributes. After all, she’d been known to do her fair share of surreptitious ogling of his sculptured form herself. Patching up various minor injuries over the years had often called for the unnecessary removal of the souled vampire’s shirt, for instance.
Shelley’s eyebrows rose imperceptibly, and Cordelia blushed, almost certain that the other woman had sensed the shameful direction that her thoughts were taking. She quickly turned her attention to Angel to cover up her embarrassment, but found that she was unable to stop herself from admiring the planes of muscle that etched out the smooth contours of his toned back.
The vampire, meanwhile, was utterly oblivious to the silent exchange between his seer and the attractive beautician. Although, now that his soul was permanent, he had begun to release the restraints on his inner sensuality, the years of self-enforced celibacy had dulled the vampire’s senses towards the subtle come-on signals from the opposite sex. He was as clueless as ever with regard to his effect on the majority of women.
He did react when he felt the warm caress of gentle fingers, tracing the outline of the tattoo on his shoulder blade though. Turning his dark, mesmerising gaze on his seer, he was suddenly very aware of her presence beside him.
With a sharp intake of breath, Cordelia snatched her hand back, the pink tinge already colouring her cheeks, intensifying to a deep rosy red on being caught with her fingers in the honey-pot.
Angel silently exulted; the barriers between them were slowly coming down, and he couldn’t have been happier. He wanted this amazing woman in his home, his heart, his bed, and everywhere else in between, and it felt good that he had the power to get under her skin in this way. He had not missed Cordelia’s earlier reaction to his touch back at the Hotel, and this was just further evidence that she wasn’t adverse to the idea of being with him.
“Ahem!”
Shelley loudly cleared her throat to disperse the thick cloud of sexual tension that had descended over the pair. Snapping on a pair of gloves, she squeezed a globule of dark brown cream onto a small circular sponge, and approached the bed.
“Shall we get this done?” she asked, her violet eyes questioning.
Angel swallowed hard, and nodded in agreement, reluctantly giving his permission for her to proceed. The short redheaded woman bent over and reached out to dab at the pale skin of his torso with the sponge, but stopped when he involuntarily cringed back from her.
“You can relax,” she said, her rich, smoky voice filled with amusement. “A few vampires have had allergic reactions, but I’ve never known one to burst into flames.”
“What? How did you…?” Cordelia stopped mid-sentence and stared at Shelley, open-mouthed.
“Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan recommended my salon to you, did he not?”
“Yeah, but… that green colour doesn’t come from a bottle, does it?”
Shelley laughed, “No – that’s all natural. Considering who you are, you can’t be oblivious to the extra service I provide here though, Miss Chase.”
“You mean the new age chant that’s really a spell? No, it doesn’t fool me. It works wonders, I might add.”
“That’s why my salon has the reputation for being the best around.”
“You really treat vampires?”
“Yes, there are several on my regular client list.”
“But how do you stop them from – like – eating you?”
Shelley muttered something under her breath, and held out her hand, claw-like, towards Angel. The vampire jumped as a zap of electricity ricocheted through his veins, temporarily paralysing him for a second. He growled, his forehead rippling as the hard ridges and glowing yellow eyes of his demon emerged.
“Vampires find the sensation extremely unpleasant for some reason,” Shelley explained. “It doesn’t hold them for long, but I have this,” she pulled a wooden stake from the treatment trolley, “For the more troublesome ones. The majority are well behaved, however. This is LA – everyone wants to look good, even the un-dead.”
“So, you know who I am?” Angel asked the beautician.
“You’re reputation proceeds you, Mr Angel.”
“It’s just Angel.”
Shelley nodded and raised the sponge that she still held in her fingers. Angel inclined his head, and she began to paint a square patch of his skin with the brown lotion.
“Miss Chase here likes to talk – a lot,” she continued conversationally. “And you’re her favourite topic of discussion. I have to say her ways of trying to conceal the fact that you’re a vampire are *very* inventive.”
“You could have just told me you knew,” Cordelia reproved, her bottom lip jutting out into a slight pout.
“Ahh – but where would be the fun in that?” Shelley said with a smile.
She stepped back and threw the used sponge away. “Okay – just give that a few minutes to dry and then you can put your shirt back on. If there’s no reaction in half an hour, you’re good to go.”
“Do you think he could get an appointment this morning?” Cordelia queried.
“Well, I’m all booked up, but I’m sure one of my colleagues is free. I don’t remember there being a full appointment schedule today. Ask Heather on reception – she’ll sort something out for you,” Shelley answered, as she tugged off her soiled gloves and tossed them into the bin.
“Nice to meet you, Angel,” she added, bidding him farewell with a congenial nod of her head. “Miss Chase – I’ll see you next week for your regular appointment.”
Forty-five minutes later, Angel and Cordelia sat in reception, away from the windows, waiting patiently for an appointment at 10am. At least, the seer was waiting patiently, happily engrossed in the latest copy of Cosmo. The vampire, however, was bored silly and growing increasingly restless. Looking around for something to do, he strode over to the counter and grabbed a handful of advertising literature to peruse.
He let out a deep put-upon sigh as he sat back down next to Cordelia, but she purposely ignored him and continued reading. Angel sifted through the glossy leaflets and absently flipped open the salon’s price-list, skimming his eyes down over the range of treatments and their respective fees.
“How much?” he choked back a startled exclamation, causing his seer to look up from her magazine article. “Have you seen what a St. Tropez treatment costs?” he asked her.
“If you want the best, you have to pay premium rate prices,” Cordelia told him primly.
“Shelley said you had a regular appointment – how do you afford that?”
“I put it on the company credit card.”
“And Wesley agrees to this?”
“Not exactly,” the seer admitted sheepishly, her eyes downcast. “He doesn’t know Shelley’s a beauty salon – I told him it was a stationary supplier.”
“Cordelia!”
“Hey – you fell for it too, buddy. Besides, it’s a legitimate business expense. It’s your fault; I can’t go out in the sun.”
Angel would have taken that to heart if she hadn’t kept her tone of voice deliberately light and teasing. “That’s a low blow,” he informed her.
“I know,” Cordelia said, gracing him with her wide beautiful smile. “True though,” she added.
Angel frowned, everything in him baulking at paying out that kind of money for someone to rub cream into his skin. “Can’t I just buy the stuff and do it myself?” he asked plaintively.
The seer turned her head to look steadily at him, disapproval written all over her beautiful face. The vampire stared back at her, completely unfazed by her icy stare. It was just cream – how complicated could it be for god’s sake?
Seeing he wasn’t going to back down, Cordelia rose to her feet with a loud huff and a disdainful toss of her head, and made her way over to the reception desk.
“I’m really sorry,” she told the young woman behind the counter. “But I think we’re going to have to cancel that appointment.”
“Oh?”
Cordelia leaned forward conspiratorially. “He’s kind of shy around women,” she said in a low voice. “He’s gonna need a bit more persuasion to go through with it.”
“Oh, I see,” Heather said, with an understanding nod of her head. “We do have a qualified male beautician, you know. I think Andre is free in an hour if your friend would be more comfortable with him performing the procedure?”
Cordelia was sorely tempted, but wisely decided against it, remembering the vampire’s swift backtrack when she suggested that he would have to shower with a load of men if he joined a gym. “Thanks, but we’ll leave it for now. I don’t want to push it – I think a subtle campaign of feminine persuasion is the best way to go.”
“Works every time,” Heather agreed, with a sly wink. “Men are so gullible.”
“Not to mention extremely tight with a buck,” Cordelia muttered under her breath as she strode back across the room towards a completely unremorseful Angel.
***
Gunn looked up from his Game-boy as the Lobby doors crashed open, and Cordelia and a blanket-wrapped Angel came through. “Hey guys! We were wondering where you two had got to – whatcha been up to?”
In answer, Cordelia dumped a non-descript brown paper bag down in front of him, while Angel tossed aside his, slightly smoking, blanket and sat down on the sofa opposite.
His curiosity piqued, Gunn emptied out the contents of the shopping bag onto the low table. “Kinky,” he remarked as he picked up and set aside a box of surgical gloves.
Turning over one of the bottles, he laughed out loud. “Self-tan – got to look the part, huh? Cool! This your idea, Barbie girl?”
“Oh no!” Cordelia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “*My* idea was for him to get it done professionally at a salon, but no, Mr I’m-not-cheap-I’m-just-old decided he could do it himself.”
Ignoring his seer’s pointed jibe, Angel picked up one of the other two bottles. “What’s an exfoliant?” he asked, his broad brow creased in puzzlement.
“You see what I mean?” Cordelia exclaimed in exasperation, throwing her hands up in despair at the vampire’s naivety.
“It’s a beauty product that removes the top layer of dead skin cells,” Wesley said automatically, and then shook his head. “And I don’t even want to know how I know that.”
“Me neither, English,” Gunn replied, as he studied the bottle of self-tan lotion in his hands.
“Given what those life-guards have to wear, you gonna have to rub this in some interesting places,” he remarked to Angel with a wicked grin.
“Mmm,” the vampire absently agreed, and then it finally occurred to him. “I’m going to need some help,” he said, lifting his eyes to look directly at the young black man, sitting across from him.
Their gaze held for a brief instant, and then speedily shifted in opposite directions, both of them fidgeting uncomfortably in their seats.
“Well,” Gunn said, rising purposely to his feet. “I promised my old crew, I’d check in on them to see how they’re doing after the debacle at Caritas. I’ll see you guys later.”
With that, the former street-kid turned on his heel and made a fast exit.
“And I should *really* be getting back to my research,” Wesley put in, scrambling quickly to his feet. “Coming Fred?” he asked, hooking his hand under the pretty brunette’s elbow and practically dragging her from the room.
Cordelia’s head swivelled from one swinging door to the other, and then she rolled her eyes in derision.
“Men! They’re all the same,” she snorted, gathering up the self-tan supplies in her arms. “I should have made you that appointment with Andre; it would have served you right.”
Angel stared at her blankly and she clucked her tongue. “Come on then – I see that I’m going to have to be the one who helps you with this. If you go to that interview with tiger stripes, you’ll never live it down.”
The seer turned towards the staircase, fully expecting him to follow her, but Angel remained where he was, thinking about the decision he had made in the car on the way back to the Hyperion. He had come to the conclusion that it was finally time to move their relationship onto the next level, and had therefore been planning to bite the bullet and confess his feelings. This unexpected turn of events had him reconsidering that course of action, however.
Watching as Cordelia climbed the Lobby steps, he gazed appreciably at the gentle sway of her curvy backside beneath the thin cotton skirt that she wore, his mind working overtime. The seer had been extremely flustered both times the boundaries of friendship had been stretched today, and he simply couldn’t resist this golden opportunity to tease her some more.
Cordelia turned to look down on the still stationary vampire. “Are we going to do this, or not?” she demanded wilfully.
Angel’s mouth curled up in a slow, sexy smile at her question. He pushed himself upright and was by her side in a blink of an eye. Placing one hand on her hipbone, his cool fingers brushed the silky strands of her hair away from her neck, before he bent to speak softly in her ear.
“Oh yes – I think we are,” he murmured, his gravelly voice low and seductive, despite the relative innocence of his words.
Cordelia Elizabeth Chase was suddenly a whole lot less sure of herself…
