A/N: I tried not to turn Stefen Van Holdestein into a cliché (gay dress designer) but rather based him on a couple of dear friends of mine, who are responsible for all the formal wear in my closet, and who are already plotting on my daughter's quinceañera dress.

A/N2: Had I known that finding a dress was going to be so difficult, even in ficdom, I would have never opened that can of worms!

Xxx XXX xxX

Behind the gossamer curtains of the entrance, here lay a hall, barely lit, comfortable rather than eerie lighting coming from tiny spots along the hall's walls. From beyond, music could be heard. Lindsay thought she recognized what was being played, but she couldn't go beyond telling it was a catchy rhythm… a happy rhythm.

Stella walked past her, opened the door at the end of the hall and ushered them both in. Lindsay wasn't really sure what she was expecting to find... but it certainly wasn't what she was looking at.

This wasn't a shop. At least, not a shop like she knew them. It looked more like a… like a… "toy store" whispered her excited 10 year old self in the back of her mind. And it was probably right. All over the multicolored room were mannequins dressed in different fabrics. Vanity tables, mirrors, sofas, cushioned chairs were scattered here and there. And, above all, dresses. Dresses everywhere. Seemingly tossed about randomly, but carefully positioned so anyone coming through that door could see them all. Not take them all in, for that was impossible. Even the most un-chic geek in New York wouldn't have been able to feel excited about this store. Lindsay wasn't an un-chic geek, but the closest she had been to fashion, real fashion, were the spreads at Vogue magazine she liked to leaf through whilst drinking tea at the corner coffee shop.

Only then did she notice the man working on a mannequin at the corner of the room. Tall and broad shouldered, he almost seemed too rough to be doing the delicate labor he was engrossed on when they came in, namely, embroidering. "That man in hand-embroidering a dress", thought Lindsay in awe, "there's no way in hell I'm gonna be able to afford this!"

Just then, the man in question decided to turn around and find out who had barged into his domains. His face broke into a huge smile when he saw Stella, bouncing towards him.

"Bebe!" he exclaimed, dropping his sewing to the side and taking three strides to grab her in his arms, loudly kissing both cheeks and hugging her tight.

"Stefie, darling!" was Stella's equally buoyant response. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything…"

"You, bebe, never interrupt me. I was already wondering when you'll be showing those bouncy tits of yours in here. And who, pray tell, is this deer-like creature you brought with you?" he asked, glancing towards Lindsay.

Stella promptly made the introductions. "Stef, this is my workmate, fellow CSI Lindsay Monroe. Linds, this is Stefen Van Holdestein, the best designer this side of the Bronx... and the other as well".

They both shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, carefully eyeing one another. She with nervousness and trepidation, him with critical analysis.

"Well?" asked Stella, as if waiting for the designer to produce a verdict.

"Country girl. Cowgirl, too. She'll do nicely in stilettos, Manolo's if her ankles aren't too thick for a strap, Jimmy's is she'd rather do pumps… got the perfect fucking pair done in Swarovski somewhere around here. She's got tits and gravity has been kind to her so far. She's got arse, too, but Lord knows she hasn't got a clue as to what to do with them. She probably got these athletic arms, not too defined as to ruin the look, but nice and plump enough as to not worry about sleeves as cover up. Her face will look too harsh if we put her in one of those dramatic tones you so much adore." Stefen finished his report and looked back at Stella. "Happy now, bebe?"

"Oh Stefie, I KNEW I was right when I decided to bring her here!"

"Excuse me…"

"But you, bebe, should also know better than to barge on me without calling ahead. I'm willing to forgive you this time, but only cause I'm crazy about you"

"Have you decided on what I'll be getting?"

"Excuse me…"

"That depends. I'm figuring it's that yearly fund raiser thingy of yours... again. So what are we aiming for this year? Blend with the scenery, we're so gonna fuck once we get out of here or listen bitch this male is mine?"

"EXCUSE ME!"

Lindsay felt a bit self-conscious when both of them stopped talking and looked at her questioningly. She hadn't really meant to yell, but she was getting tired of being ignored. Not to mention she was still annoyed over Stefen's reading on her.

"Yes, bebe, is there anything you'd like to share with us? And before you decide you want to rip my eyes out of my sockets I am, by no means, being patronizing. I have the feeling that my cheeky friend over here brought you to my boudoir without any proper explanation, didn't she? In that case, bebe, my deepest apologies. I can understand how you feel."

The designer looked truly remorseful and emphatic, and Lindsay felt her temper starting to drop.

Stefen turned to Stella. "You evil women, you. I ought to punish you and let you go dress-less for being so mean to your friend here."

Stella raised her hands. "But sweetie, it would have ruined the whole effect if I had told her! Besides," she added in a conciliatory tone, "you love showing off, don't you?"

"Details, mere details". Stefen waived her off and turned to Lindsay. "You see, bebe, I'm a CSI of sorts myself. I can tell plenty about people just by looking at how they are dressed. And once I've done that, I can "undress" them, so to speak, in order to find the perfect gown for them."

Lindsay looked at him questioningly. She wasn't all together sure she bought the whole theory, and the designer saw that as well, so he was quick to give her a more thorough explanation.

"Country girl… you know how to do the layering thing. And since you always prefer denims to any other kind, you are comfortable wearing them as a second skin. City girls wear them to call the attention, you wear them as a way of life and it shows. Cowboy girl… you should see yourself on those boots, bebe. Again, for you it's a way of life, not a fashion statement. And you know how to work them, too!"

Lindsay analyzed his answers and came to the conclusion that his explanation was plausible. "But what about the rest? How do you know about… well… uh…?" She gestured toward her body. "The tits and arse thing?"

The man laughed out loud at her embarrassment. "Oh bebe, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel bad! AS I said before, I have a knack for "undressing" people from a distance; just by the way they carry themselves. Even if they are not flaunting their assets, I can always tell. You may be lacking in the height department, which you compensate nicely with those 3-inch you're wearing by the way, but you definitively got shapes under all those layers. You may be petite, bebe, but you carry mighty assets."

Lindsay turned towards Stella, who had been browsing about the store and already had a couple of dresses hanging from her arms. "Is he for real?"

"I'm 100 for real, bebe. I may be gay, but I ain't stupid. You have no idea how to dress to showcase, as you've always dressed for working, but that doesn't mean you don't have what it takes. Take Stella, for example. She's tall and slender, with a great upper-lower body proportion…"

Lindsay interrupted like an eager puppy. "Now you're talking. Stella has a great body!"

Stefen laughed and patted her cheek. "Whatever she's paying you, it ain't enough bebe. As I was saying, she has a model body, but she hasn't got a figure. She doesn't have full tits, and rest assured J. Lo isn't loosing any sleep over her. When it comes to junk in a trunk, Stella is more like a pizza delivery bike…"

"I love you too, you know"

"Bebe, if you wanted flattery you'd go someplace else. You come to me for the harsh truth and a way to work it, don't you? So bugger off and lemme educate your friend here."

Lindsay couldn't help but laugh. Stella was pretending to be steaming over the comment, but her smile was broad and a happy one. Lindsay supposed that if Stella could take that kind of heat and not take offense, she might as well give this man a chance.

"But I've never walked on stilettos, and I could never ever in a million years afford Manolo Blahnik or Jimmy Choo shoes!"

Stefen looked at Lindsay, surprised, and then regaled her with a huge smile. "Oh, bebe! My country pumpkin has turned to Cinderella and gone to the palace once or twice. That's wonderful. I don't' have to spell things out for you… much"

"Ouch…" Lindsay felt the barb.

Stella walked past her and gave her a reassuring pat on the back. "Tough love, remember? Take it as a CSI and he'll turn you into a bombshell… guaranteed. He's fooled everyone making 'em think I had cleavage, hasn't he?"

"Well… that he has. I think" Lindsay didn't want to openly stare at Stella's cleavage, but she was almost certain that she had some… well, almost being the operative word here.

"Enough chatting, bebes. Let's get down and dirty here. What are we trying to achieve here?"

Before Linds could even think of how to answer that, Stella beat her to the punch line. "Me, I need a "take that, bitch" with plenty of "and you thought I'd lost it". Her… I think a "what are you waiting to fuck me" will do, for starters."

"Stella!!!"

The designer looked at Lindsay's shocked, outraged expression and at Stella's smirk, and smiled.

"Bebes, I think I have just what you need. Come this way, please."

Xxx XXX xxX

A/N: What? Don't tell me you were expecting to hear about the dresses just yet! Truth is, I have two runner-ups for each one of them, so to speak, and I'm having a hard time making up my mind as to which one should be the winning one. I'm willing to take a poll on it! All you have to do is get in touch…