This story is written for entertainment purposes only. If you're under age, scram. And BTW, children's Internet use should be monitored by their parents, not me.

Dressed for Success

She wasn't sure how a pair of jeans and a t-shirt could be scary, after all she had faced down Amanda and Percy and had more than one dance with death. But somehow, these tight denim jeans, which were the equivalent of spray paint and an equally tight t-shirt with the word 'HACKER" written across it's chest really frightened her.

Sonya sighed and threw the garments on her bed. They landed next to the red satin push up bra and a studded black leather belt. She turned toward her mirror and saw a proper young woman in a suit with perfectly coifed hair looking back. The dark maroon suit was very stylish for a businesswoman… the high necked blouse stylish for a church going businesswoman, the leather pumps stylish for a church going businesswoman who was in her forties. She rolled her eyes at herself and took her hands and mussed up her hair, pulling strands around her face and creating an unruly mass of curls.

Her dressing table was uncharacteristically messy, with pots of eye and lip color and the equipment to affix a pair of false eyelashes. It was a bit daunting but the girls on you tube made it look easy and encouraged their watchers to go dramatic. Even the women monitoring the flash news feeds wore color and shine. She was blessed with a flawless complexion and had a routine: eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss were her staples. She'd always thought making yourself up was rubbish, but the last few months had made her painfully aware of how she looked.

Sonya thought Birkhoff looked like a rock star, sexy but comfortable with a style that was uniquely his. If she was going to be seen with him, she didn't want to feel like she was on a perpetual blind date.

Naughty schoolgirl indeed! She'd show Seymour what naughty was and took the lid off of a shoebox. She unwrapped a pair of leather boots with all sorts of straps and impossibly high stiletto heels.

Birkhoff stepped out of the shower and used a towel on his hair before wrapping it around his hips. He used his hand to wipe a circle of steam off of his medicine cabinet mirror and thought about the last time he'd had a haircut. He shook his head like a wet dog and his hair fell down haphazardly. When Alex had snipped away and chunks of his locks had fallen on his shoulders, he thought he had lost his mind. Why he would allow her to go at him with a pair of scissors was insane.

He thought damage control and used an ancient jar of Dippity Do and tried to combed his hair into place. That was a disaster, besides smelling bad, he looked like he'd dumped white glue on his head. He rinsed his hair in the sink and slicked it back and the residue kept it in place. He doused himself with Aramis cologne, something he knew Michael used when he went out on Valentine Missions. Oh the sacrifices we make... he thought to himself knowing how painful it must be to seduce beautiful bimbos.

Just outside the bathroom door were a pile of clothes on the floor. Baggy denim jeans that were at least three inches too long, a well worn t-shirt with an image of Bob Marley swinging his dreadlocks around, his favorite jacket that was half safari and half military and covered with pockets, and a pair of converse tennis shoes that had looked like they'd been to summer camp.

He kicked the pile aside and reached for the garment bag that lay across his bed. He unzipped it in one fluid move and removed a dark gray gabardine suit and a light pink button down shirt. All the sales woman had to say was he looked like Matt Bomer in White Collar and Birkhoff was sold. He pulled the pants on, wondering if going commando was a good idea as he rearranged himself more comfortably.

Seymour Birkhoff knew he was a scrub, and he wanted to let Sonya know he cared about how she saw him. Maybe a little effort in his appearance would show her he could be as well dressed as he was smart. The perfect package.

He slipped on a pair of Italian wingtips and tied the laces neatly. Someone once said, clothes make the man. He thought maybe that someone wasn't a bonafide asshole after all.

The corridors in Division headquarters were cold and austere and Sonya's boots made a click clacking sound as she walked towards the wing that housed the sleeping quarters. She had almost changed her clothes and washed her face but somewhere inside of her she knew it was time to woman up and use it before she would loose it. So she slipped on her new cropped leather jacket and headed toward what she hoped would be a duly impressed and a very turned-on Seymour Birkhoff.

Her apprehension had spiked, but was tempered with excitement, until she ran smack dab into Owen Elliott.

"Excuse me." Sonya said feeling timid and a little foolish.

Owen raked his eyes over her. "No, 'scuse meee..." He drawled and instead of stepping aside, he stood his ground, blocking her exit. "Sonya, what are you all dolled up for?"

She wondered if she looked clownish or juvenile. "I just thought... I wanted to try a new look."

Owen almost whistled. "Well this new look seems to work. I like the hair." He said admiring her froth of curls. "Any special occasion?" He saw the flustered look on her face and couldn't help but torture her.

"No." Her eyes darted around. "I'm meeting Birkhoff and we were going to go out and possibly take in some music."

"Well, you look amazing." He said sincerely.

"Thank you." She muttered.

He smiled at her knowingly. "Have fun tonight." He finally took a step to his left and let her pass by, wishing he could be a fly on the wall.

When Birkhoff left his apartment, he was feeling pretty confident and cocky, but that attitude started to dissipate once he was in the elevator going down into the bowels of Division headquarters. He reminded himself how sophisticated and put together Sonya always looked. What got to him was knowing what was inside of that conservative looking shell, she was smokin' hot!

He hoped he appeared to be struttin' down the corridor and not looking like a geek on a pogo stick. They agreed they would meet in his old quarters at Division, it was a shrine to all he had endured. As he rounded the corner, he cringed when he saw Owen ambling towards him.

This time Owen had to give up a cat call and whistle. "You're looking like a man on a mission." He winked at Birkhoff, thinking he was really clever.

Birkhoff wasn't going to let this guy get to him. "That I am. I have a date with the smartest woman in Division."

Owen raised his eyebrows, "You're going out with Mary in Research and Development?" He thought of the department head who was a looker if not a bruiser and who treated the agents like they were hired assassins, which they were.

Birkhoff wasn't taking the bait. "Sonya, My Sonya" he said definitively.

Owen smirked. "You know I'm yankin' your computer cord. You've cleaned up good."

Birkhoff grinned goofily. "You think?"

"Oh yeah, for real. You look like that guy from that TV show. Ya know the one I'm talking about." Owen tried not to laugh. "Go! Have fun."

Birkhoff's face lit up but then he gave up a dubious look. "Thanks, man. I will." He continued to bounce down the corridor.

Owen wondered if there was a security feed he could tap into. He would give his glock to see what these two would do when they saw each other.