So Sue Me!













Fixing the last ruffles on the model's dress, he gave the bunch on her thin buttocks an extra fluff' and sent her off down the cat walk, her tiny hips swinging his latest work in the way it was made to in her sexy tromp, camera bulbs flashing in approval as she came.


This piece was a ballet dress (in gleaming red polyester; think Chinese dress material), except the top clung to her sickly body in a halter grasp, and the skirt hung around her bony waist like Saturn's rings, voluminous with the layers and layers of stiff, scarlet rimmed white cloth, ending though in a mini mini skirt fashion, her (skimpy; they look like an odd contrast to the puffy skirt) mile long legs covered in white fishnet tights with a plain white tight underneath of it, and then the straps of velvet crawled up like ivy near the end (the straps to the shoes), skinny heels barely supporting her anorexic weight.

This one was his favorite, and what he felt, was his best yet in his 23 year old existence.

He almost cried.

But not now, because his presence was required as his show had ended, and he needed to finally show himself.

The crowd roared as he jogged to the middle of the stage, all the models sporting his latest line standing against the wall, posed, all underneath the large sign carrying his label's name.

He bowed politely, and more photos were taken, the flashing lights almost blinding him, but he kept his poker face of a tantalizing slanted grin, chivalrous, but enough to make the ladies swoon over the handsome bachelor.


But not a certain Takawachia Sango, who had just hit the power button on her TV, the designer's smirk fading quickly into a black nothingness, the static humming on the edge of the screen as the electricity faded away too.

A deep scowl had implanted it's self where a smile just had been, watching the man's works of art simply walk down an isle. As much as she loved his designs, she just couldn't stand him!

Scoffing, she fingered the soft hem of her mottled gray Banana Republic shirt, it's familiarness comforting. Her cat, Kirara, nuzzled her ear in affection, and Sango stroked her head in an automatic reaction to that, but thoughts still brewed in her head.

How could the self named Houshi-sama be so brilliant, but annoyingly egoistic at the same time?

She shook her head.


Men.


The two person apartment stood in silence as she contemplated this, she (and Kirara) being the only occupants.


Miroku popped in the two Advil with in an oddly deja vu drill, all the photos and reporters too much for his poor brain.

He rubbed his temples, trying to rid the storm that brewed with-in his skull.

Hey, being a world famous designer was tough.

But, to his dismay, people just didn't understand that, as he received a phone call, the ringing ironically matching the one in his head.

What is it? he snapped, in no mood to be his usual gentlemanly self.

Houshi-sama. We have a problem, his agent's voice breathlessly worded, for once, her tone not full of happy little bunnies playing in green hills.

This had him instantly worried.

What is it Kagome? he retorted quickly, panic rising in his throat in form of a small lump.

Y-you're . . . BEING SUED! she shuddered nervously, obviously in some sort of hysteria.

I'm coming right over! he barked, and ran to the door, flinging on his black trench coat in his haste and barley having time to lock the door in the rush.

Bounding down several flights of stairs in record time, he leapt into his car door, pre-opened by a nifty control on his key chain.

Panting, he drove like a mad man to his office building, thankfully not too far away.

When he finally made it into the building, Kagome practically leapt at him.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for coming down here so fast! she gushed, leading him though a maze of doors and rooms all the while you really need to see this!.

Miroku now noted he was in her cubicle, but it was no time for musing on poor architecture and bad design, for her message screen was blinking as if paused, a strange man's face dominating the screen.

Kagome hit a button on the machine, and the message replayed it self.

Takahashi Miroku, you are charged with the sexual harassment of Huchibuci Kiyoko, and are being sued for it. I suggest you get a lawyer soon.

That's all it said.

But it was enough to bring doom to his world.

So where am I going to find a lawyer on such short note-

I have a friend who owes me a little something, Kagome grinned, obviously pleased with her self.

he sighed.

Takawachia Sango, nicknamed taiji.


He blinked.


Taiji meaning demon exterminator, she smiled, and he did too.


Let her exterminate the demon' model, Kiyoko, away.


So he could get along with his life.



Kagome! Wow! It's been, what, a year since we last met! Sango laughed, hugging her collage aged friend warmly.

Kagome followed the suit, and then they sat down for their lunch in the local, small cafe.

So! How have things been going? she chirped, happy to have some human company.

Good! I'm a secretary now





How's your love life then?

SANGO! As a matter of fact, just as bad as yours!

Who said that?!?

Well, you sounded kinda desperate in taking me out to lunch . . .



Well Sango. You always starve for attention when . . . Wait a minute, how's your brother? Is he better?

He's dead



. . .

I'm sorry to hear it Sango!

It was expected anyway. He was in a comma for over two years . . .

Yea but . . .

It was expected.

O . . K . . . then

What do you want me for? You said you had a job for me

Well . . . the person I'm working for is getting sued . . .

What for?

. . . molesting

I don't deal with perverts Kag, no matter how much they pay

NO! He's not! That why we need you!

You should have said that in the first place

. . .

So . . . who is he?

Takahashi Miroku

. . .

. . . well?

. . .



. . .

Are you alight?





I wont do it

Why not?!?

Sango had left.


Miroku had been watching this frank exchange from another table, wanting to see this demon exterminator' her self.

He was impressed.

But now . . . disturbed.

Why not him?

Why not?


























AN: Well there you have it peoples, the first chappy! Oh! To those who read My Dreams Are All I Carry, it's a one-shotter. Sorry! But this ain't, so await the next installment SOON!