The room was too dark to see Mag's expression clearly, even though she had taken her hood down. The diva was silent as she covered her mouth with her hands...Shilo was about to rise from the couch and go to Mag when a loud knock sprang from the dressing room door.
"ONE HOUR until show time, Blind Mag! Oh, Blind Mag! Are you ready for your beautification?! I have your fabulous GeneCo fashion entourage—Can we come in, sweet lady?!" A stream of tittering laughter came from the troupe in the hallway.
Shilo's eyes widened in terror and began searching the room for some place to hide. There wasn't one, but she stood anyway, unsure and prepared to flee like a scared animal. Mag exhaled, exasperated by the intrusion. Though her fashionistas were always very kind to her, she clearly did not want to deal with the flamboyantly lurid group or their dotage.
"Just a moment, please..." Mag responded to the door, crossing to the vanity and switching on a small lamp. She bid Shilo to sit again with a slight wave of her hand before opening the door just a few inches.
"MAG! Blind Mag!" The small throng erupted when they saw her face. Shilo could hear the troupe's excitement, though she could not see them. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"I won't be needing any assistance, thank you. I can manage dressing by myself tonight." Mag spoke in a low voice, not at all distracted by their clamor.
"Are you sure, honey?! We're all here, ready to make you outrageously fantastic for your big number!" the main voice replied in a strange, theatrical voice.
"Thank you. I'm quite sure. So, if you would be so kind...as to leave me." Mag's voice came out unnaturally curt. Shilo imagined that the troupe was probably just as surprised as she was.
"I—okay...Okay, honey. But you send for us if you need anything—anything at all!" the main voice stumbled. A hum of disappointed moans echoed in the hall. The diva nodded and shut the door with a soft click. Shilo stood quietly, and with the soft lamp now glowing behind its shade, began an easy trek across the carpet towards Mag. Shilo made it as far as the vanity before the soprano turned around and pressed her back and head against the door. Mag looked relieved but far away. Shilo sat at the vanity bench and gazed at her godmother's contemplative expression.
"I'll have to start getting ready now, Shilo..." Mag's voice was quietly sweet and high, her grey- blue eyes finally settling on Shilo.
"I hope you won't mind." The voice of GeneCo walked to her wardrobe, removed her new costume from the rack and laid it out over the top of the metal frame. Shilo didn't want to leave. She touched the top of the make-up table and looked at Mag's reflection in the glass.
"Can I stay a little longer?" The young woman saw Mag nod her uncovered head.
I should probably give her some privacy...
Shilo turned fully toward the vanity and tried to busy herself by looking at the items on the tabletop. A small conglomeration of makeup palettes, a pair of strange looking silver things that looked like talons, a pair of what looked like de-feathered birds that were Mag's false eyelashes, a black studded collar, a pair of black studded cuffs...Shilo shuddered at the sight of the cuffs and choker, and her mind began to wander. She knew that Mag was undressing behind her, and it made the young woman think of all the wardrobe and makeup artists who had seen the diva without a costume—naked, even! Shilo thought of all the GeneCo ads that featured Mag in devilishly risque get-ups, all bare backed with plunging necklines or exposed midriff with long slits in the skirt that ran all the way up past her hip. Shilo saw an old photograph of her mother tucked into the corner of an angled mirror, and she stole a gaze at the diva.
The long black cloak-dress was laid across an arm of the couch, the ankle high boots were tucked under the wardrobe rack, the corset had fallen to the floor and now she watched as Mag bent the cloth ribbing at the front of an inner gown to reveal a hidden line of tiny silver clasps. Shilo felt her face grow warm. She swallowed hard and averted her eyes to finger the hem of the unfamiliar black dress that Rotti had given her to wear to the opera. The young woman rubbed her knees, trying to subdue her curiosity...but could not. In the mirror, Shilo could see that Mag had reached the bottom of the clasps that stopped just below her navel. An endless strip of pale skin gleamed in contrast with Mag's dark gown. Shilo felt like an interloper—a voyeur peeking into a woman's private chamber. She had never seen anyone undress before. Shilo remembered watching one of Mag's performances on television, and finding herself intrigued by the superstar's almost catlike features and graceful movement...And yet, she looked so womanly. Shilo tried not to make a habit of it, but on occasion she would find herself wondering what Mag looked like underneath her elaborate costumes— without makeup. The young woman had hoped that she would look as beautiful when she was older.
But this is nothing like that...I don't even...
Nothing could have prepared her for this moment, and Mag was even more breathtaking than she had ever imagined. Shilo's thoughts were burned up by the white hot radiance of Mag's bare shoulders as she slipped her arms from the long embroidered sleeves—by the slight shimmy of her sloping back as she pulled the bodice away from her full breasts and taut stomach. Shilo felt a peculiar pull in her belly as if Mag were a magnet. Her pulse quickened so rapidly that she felt it thumping at her temples.
What is going on...? What's happening to me? I shouldn't be looking. She's so gorgeous...Okay
—Breathe, Shilo. Breathe...
Again, the young woman quickly retracted her gaze, but just as quickly reverted to secretly staring at the soprano in the mirror. Shilo hoped she was being covert enough at least, with her head slightly bowed as she looked up from her heavy lidded position at Mag's reflection. And by this time, Mag had stepped out of her gown and was left in a pair of black lace panties and knee high stockings. Mag's dark, wavy hair spilled over her shoulders as she bent to remove the cloth stockings. Long tresses curled cozily around the swell of her chest so that only glimpses of cleavage surfaced. Shilo bent over the vanity with her elbows at an acute angle and pressed her mouth to the top of her knuckles as she pried her eyes from Mag's nearly naked frame—as she tried not to recreate the sight of Mag's breasts in her head. The way they rounded and barely touched in the center, the supple underside peeking through the undulating glossy black locks. The young woman didn't look up again until she heard the rustling of fabric and saw the diva kneading the clasps of a feathered corset over her small waist. In profile, Mag's legs looked even longer and more toned than Shilo had first noticed. Shilo's dark eyes traversed their length and landed on Mag's naked feet. They looked small and shapely, with the tendons slightly protruding under her nearly translucent skin.
Somehow, seeing the older woman's bare feet knocked the wind out from under Shilo. Photoshoots and advertisements for GeneCo may have portrayed Blind Mag in scandalous and scanty garments, but the sheltered Shilo had never seen another human body so intimately tangible as she saw Mag now. Shilo's parachute was gone, and now she was free falling. She felt lightheaded. Her blood pressure cuff felt tight and stuck to her wrist. Surely it would start chirping soon, for the thumping in her temples had crept down to grip the pulse points of her neck and shoulders. She took the monitor off and turned around on the bench to openly face the soprano. Shilo's compromised constitution made her even more unsteady in her unsupported and precarious seat. Her vision shook slightly, and she hardly realized she was speaking until it was too late.
"Mag...you're so beautiful." She hadn't meant to say it, but it came out—seemingly calm and rich with warmth. Mag has just finished with the corset hooks and stood very still at the sudden sound of Shilo's voice. Shilo wanted to say more, but compelled herself to remain quiet when she saw the diva pause. The young woman began to think about all of the fans, dressing assistants and paparazzi who probably told Mag how beautiful she was on a regular basis. She thought about clawing directors and impertinent photographers, maybe a drooling Rotti Largo, himself! Shilo was sobered by a gnarl of protectiveness twisting beneath her sternum. She watched as Mag sashayed to the carafe and poured a cup of now cooled water. Her hips were even more pronounced by the tight corset. The top and bottom of the garment were rimmed in a spray of red and black feathers that covered her cleavage and pelvis, but only just. A plume of tulle trailed down over her backside—but being see through, left her mostly bare.
That's what he gave her to wear?! She's practically naked!
Shilo fumed silently, but softened as Mag handed her the cup of water. Shilo blatantly blushed at the close proximity of the lovely Mag and tried to cover her eyes with the bottom of the cup instead of looking at the diva. Once Shilo had taken a few sips and lowered the cup, Mag gently withdrew it and took a few graceful sips of cool liquid for herself.
Maybe I should apologize for looking at her...Well no, I'm not sorry...But maybe I upset her.
It looked to Shilo that Mag was lost in thought, and the soprano had yet to speak a word to her since she began dressing for the evening. Shilo watched Mag walk back to the carafe to pour more water. She was perturbed again by the outfit and soft leather that covered Mag's back (which Mag had turned to Shilo.) Shilo watched the older woman tip back her head and finish off the second cup of water.
Turn around...Why won't you turn around?
Shilo began to feel anxious. She felt strong enough again to look into Mag's eyes, and now her desire to do so was beginning to build and boil over. The younger woman couldn't tell which, but a wave of panic or longing washed over her body and prickled hot under her skin. She felt as if all of her organs were falling tinder for the fire that burned on her pelvic floor.
"Mag? Mag, look at me..." Shilo implored quietly. Even if she spoke softly, she knew that the diva must have tremendously sensitive hearing. But Mag did not move an inch.
"Please, Mag." The younger woman spoke a little louder-the syllables seemed to stretch and curl like taut muscles.
"Come closer to me...Please." Shilo waited in breathless anticipation as Mag set the teacup down on the carved table and caught the younger woman's eye. The lamplight struck Mag's gunmetal irises and made them appear luminescent and more striking than they had appeared in the dark. Shilo wavered at the sight of the diva-a compass needle searching for true North...She felt as if she were pulled into some sort of trance. The two maintained eye contact as Mag glided closer to the vanity. Shilo slowly sat further back on the bench, as if a lion was approaching her and she propped her arms on either side of her body for reinforcement. Her thin legs trembled in her black boots that dangled a few inches off the floor. Wordlessly, the diva came close to the young woman and knelt down in front of her like a kitten. The top of Mag's bare legs slipped easily beneath Shilo's feet. The diva pulled herself in closer until Shilo's boots trampled on two patches of feathers that splayed out wildly on Mag's thigh.