Lyla’s Project Part 2

Timeline: December 9th, 2008

It was a couple minutes before ten when Rey arrived at the house. She was tired, having greeted the dawn screaming Grey’s name a third time before he finally succumbed to his own release. The young witch wasn’t so tired that she had circles under her eyes, but she would definitely need a nap when she got back from Manchester.

She’d brought everything she’d need to go shopping with her, so she could head out directly after meeting with Lyla. Rey’d have to buy more than just a couple of suits; she needed to get underwear, shoes, the works. That meant extra stops to make on her list.

Stifling a yawn, she opened the door and walked into the house.

Lyla was there, having returned from her early morning run up to Mt. Washington and back. Another advantage of being a werewolf was that just a short naps taken here and there during the day was plenty of sleep for them. Lyla looked bright-eyed, alert and pleased to see Rey. “Morning, Rey!” She led her guest up to her bedroom and walked past the big wardrobe and opend up the closet instead.

She turned on a light in the closet. “Just ignore that stuff,” she said, pointing to a couple shelves full of adult toys. “See these?” She pointed out some business-style skirt, suit coat and blouse combinations. “Honestly, they may be a little too flirty. You should probably go with a bit more conservative longer skirt or slacks instead. If you do go with a skirt, make sure you wear dark host. Oh, and wear sensible, but nice, shoes. If things go bad, you want to be able to run, not break a heal and get nabbed. That’s just plain embarrassing.

“And you’ll want to take this with you for sizing reasons. Also, it’s required.” She pulled off what looked like a relatively thin black vest. Lyla handed it to Rey and she realized it was much heavier than it looked, though she suspected it wouldn’t be heavy enough to slow her down much. “Bulletproof,” Lyla said. “It won’t stop someone gimping you in the leg, or planting a bullet in your face, so never get overconfident or cocky. I’m trying to plan things so that you’ll never actually need this, but… well better to be prepared and bruised than not and bleeding, right?”

“No kidding.” Rey took another look at the vest. “Okay, no white blouses unless I’m wearing something over this. Or maybe I can make a cover to put over it. A simple white shirt with a dark suit is an acceptable, if not slightly boring, image.” She took her coat off and slipped the vest on over her shirt. “I never thought I’d ever be glad for everything my mom force fed me about the importance of your image.” A slight smile curved her lips.

Lyla chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve only been able to get these darn things in navy or black. They can be hot and uncomfortable, too. This one is at least made for women, but apparently they decided one breast size fits all women.” She rolled her eyes.

“Can’t you get one custom made?” Rey asked as she did the vest up. “Or is that prohibitively expensive?”

Lyla shrugged, “I thought I was lucky to get my hands on this thing. I don’t see why it wouldn’t be possible, but I don’t know anyone with the skill or equipment to customize one without ruining the integrity of the vest.”

“Man, this is tight even on me.” Rey tugged at the neckline of the vest. “For those one size fit all things, they’re normally for a B/C cup, and I’m a B. Either this is on the small side, or my boobs have gotten bigger. Not that Grey would complain.” Fresh love bites from earlier were a clear sign of that. She bit her lip as she thought.

“Skirt suits are so much more professional, but I may have to stick with pant suits. With all the running I’ve been doing, my legs look very good according to Grey. Of course, he’s biased. Still, opaque hose might do the trick, and heels no higher than an inch.”

“Hey check this,” Lyla said. She pulled on the sides of the vest and there was a ripping sound. “Velcro. It’s not going to fit your boobs like a glove, but this thing isn’t going to choke you.” She smiled. “And there are adjustable velcro straps over the shoulders and around the waist. See how they are super flat? If the shit you wear is loose, you should be able to see them.”

“Good. Now I just need to find a tailor who won’t blab about the woman who came in with a bullet-proof vest.” Rey took the vest off and removed her shirt. She knew her bra did nothing to hide the various bruises she had, and hoped Lyla wouldn’t get upset when she saw them. “Anything else you think I should know before I head into Manchester?” she asked as she put the vest on and adjusted the straps for comfort.

“Naw, you should be fine,” Lyla said, eyeing her bruises. “Things getting rough at home?” she asked.

“Rough? No.” Rey shook her head. “We’re not fighting or anything. I like it a bit rough, and both Grey and I like to bite, and to be bitten. I don’t mind being marked, though it’d be nice if I could give him one that’d last more than a couple of minutes.” She said with a soft laugh, then looked her female alpha in the eye. “Grey’s not doing anything I don’t want him to, and I do what I can for him, within the boundaries we’ve established.”

“Be careful, Rey,” Lyla said. “If you can’t stop, avoid rough-housing during his moon cycle. That’s aggressive and a werewolf can succumb to the pressures of being forced to live in this civilized world and act out without meaning to. If you keep that up with him, one day, he will hurt you.”

The look on her face told Rey she was very serious and she wasn’t interested in arguing with Rey on this point. The truth was, she avoided such roughness with Ramiel for exactly this reason. Although she allowed him to be rough with her, the times she was rough with him was almost always unintentional.

“I know.” Rey glanced at the shelves of toys. “Though I suppose my definition of rough is vastly different than yours. A little nipping, a little use of nails, no bondage or toys or anything like that. No fighting or wrestling, though we do enjoy acting out the scene carved on my bed once in a while,” a half satisfied, half embarrassed smile covered her face, “and that only happens when he suggests it. The most aggressive thing I’ve done is give him a light smack on the butt and tell him that if he moved again, I’d stop licking.”

Lyla was unconvinced by Rey’s explanation. “My definition of rough for humans is that which leaves bruises — or worse, Rey. Rough for werewolves is similar because that could trigger animalistic passions. And remember that my lover is a human — magic or no. I do have experience in this area — as well as what happens when control is lost.” The last was said with tight-lipped bitterness. “Just take it easy, Rey. That’s not a request.”

Rey nodded. “I will.” She put her shirt on over the vest. Telling Lyla the bruises were the exception to the rule wouldn’t change her concern, so there was no reason to bring it up. Besides, it’d sound too much like protesting or making excuses. “Did you want me to pick up anything for you while I’m shopping?”

She shook her head. “No, but thanks.”

Lyla walked Rey out. “Have a safe trip — and have a little fun,” she said with a smile. “We’ll have some business to take care of soon.”

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