Chapter Three: How to Strut
Marinette's stomach twisted painfully as she watched the bustling of bodies moving expertly back and forth through the chaotic sea of fashion. There were plenty of the contestant designers, like herself, but there were also the lead company designers going about their own work as usual. On top of that, they had the model try outs. It was supposed to mimic an actual work environment, and she was suffocating.
She barely skipped out of the way of a hasty make-up artist, lunging for a brush on the counter the blunette was standing against, and the next moment Mari dodged a hurried model shedding her clothes, unabashed, grabbing another outfit for her next walk. It was messy, and it was jumbled, but everyone seemed to understand the flow of things. Everyone but her…
"Marinette!" Alya's familiar voice flooded her with temporary relief, and she turned gradually towards the sound. "I was wondering where you were!"
The blue haired heroine gasped softly, eyeing her best friend from head to toe. Her crimson hair was pulled up in an elegant bun, and her glasses were gone, presumably replaced with contacts, showing more of her beautiful golden orbs. The dress she wore was a soft yellow color flowing down to the floor, and the neckline plunged low enough to reveal her cleavage. The slits on either side of the piece went up to mid-thigh. She looked stunning.
"Wow," she breathed, reaching out to touch the shimmering lace embroidery at the journalist's hip.
"Oh, yeah," she tittered. "Forgot! Mylène is entering the design portion of this thing too," she said, excited. "I mean, I knew she liked acting with her dad and all, but I guess she has spent so much time behind the scenes that she learned some other tricks too. She wanted to give it a shot. Since we've graduated lycée, we're doing the 'you only live once' rounds," she giggled. "You know, before we all move on with life."
Huh. Marinette's eyes skimmed by her best friend, settling on Mylène for a moment, and a smile spread over her lips. "Good for her, she deserves to take a chance."
It was no secret how shy she was, timid, really, so to be able to do something that didn't put her in the spotlight, but could bring her closer to something she might enjoy was amazing. Marinette was happy for her, and she hoped that it would work out. Juleka, on the other hand, who was in the process of trying on a short mauve dress for the woman, looked as ill as Marinette felt.
"Yeah," Alya said, her tone thick with unspoken meaning, but it didn't last long. "Maybe you should try it."
The bluenette sighed. "I'm taking a chance right now, aren't I? I'm here, doing the design thing."
"Yup, well within your comfort range. You should have tried the modeling. That would be stepping it up."
Her face burned, and she turned away. "I c-couldn't do that," she whispered, butterflies tangling the insides of her gut. "Besides, I like designing."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it girl. I'm just saying." Alya hooked her arm, and ushered her closer to Mylène.
"I th-think I'm going to be sick," Juleka whispered, and Marinette sympathized. She swayed a little, and the blue-haired woman put her hands on her shoulders to steady her.
"You can do it," she said firmly. "You just have to believe in yourself, Juleka."
"Just pretend you're someone else," Mylène suggested fluidly, her fingers never stopping her work on the hem.
"S-someone else?" Juleka's voice was meek as she stared into their faces.
"Like acting," Marinette chimed in. "You're not you if you're uncomfortable."
Alya giggled. "Yeah! Great idea! Pretend you're already a superstar! Strut your stuff like this!" The caramel skinned beauty backed up a little for them to see her full figure, and then she did her cat walk, full hips swaying more exaggerated than normal, sensual smirk on her face. She stopped short of the group to pose, and put a finger to her crimson painted lips. The journalist 'superstar' tilted her head, and slowly licked her fingertip before shifting her gait dramatically, and spun with 'attitude', walking away.
They all burst into laughter. Marinette snorted. "They're looking for models Alya, not strippers and porn stars. I'm pretty sure you'd get disqualified for that, despite the fact you look smoking hot doing it," she teased, winking as her best friend turned back around, grinning.
"I don't think I can," Juleka whimpered, eyes darting around frantically. "I'm not g-good enough."
"At least one of you realized you were worthless before making a fool of yourself," Lila's scathing voice slithered out, and Mari growled, spinning.
"What are you doing here, Lila?" The anger bubbled casually beneath the surface just seeing the Italian beauty. Mari endeavored, many times, through the years to quell her distrust of Lila...always to no avail.
For years, Lila tricked people into believing her blatant lies, and Marinette was always on the outskirts of the popular vote when it came to her, until she went a step too far, involving a rumor with her and Chat Noir having a romantic fling.
The Ladyblog had exploded, of course, but Chat Noir had gone on record to state that he unequivocally loved his Lady, and that Lila must be mistaken. More or less. He'd been very kind and considerate in his response, careful not to call her a liar, despite the fact she was one, but that's all it took. Lila's reputation quickly dissolved until she was forced to retract her virtuous stature and trek in the mud with the rest of them.
"I would think that would be obvious," she snapped back. "I'm here to be the next top model," she rolled her eyes, flipping her silky chestnut hair.
"Of course," Alya groaned. "Why don't you get ready then, Lila? We're trying to do the same. Good luck," she murmured, attempting to diffuse the situation. Marinette appreciated the sentiment, but Lila never let things go.
"Sure," she bit out. "Good luck," she breathed, bumping the bluenette's shoulder as she stomped by. "Hope you guys break a leg," she spat vehemently.
Marinette blew out a sound of exasperation, a sense of fear shifting along the cushioning of her gut. The ominous feeling settled, anchoring its weight. It wasn't a good sign.
****An Hour Later****
Mylène sewed expertly, and Marinette couldn't help but watch in fascinated awe at her expert fingers. This was the woman's element. The last time they'd tried acting, she'd fallen apart. Now, she seemed calm, happy, and at peace with the world.
"Your work is beautiful," she blurted out accidentally.
The shorter woman stiffened a moment before smiling, their eyes locking. "I got the idea from you, actually," she admitted, making Marinette squeak in surprise. "You're always so clumsy, and so unsure…except when you're designing or defending others. I decided, I'm so uncomfortable being the center of attention." She sighed shaking her head. "But, when I make things and get to watch the beautiful models show them off, I'm so proud and happy without the nervous energy."
"O-oh," she giggled softly, blushing.
"Every production has more than one important part. I wanted to make my dad proud, but then I realized being in the spotlight wasn't for me, and that I didn't have to be to make him feel that way about me."
Marinette smiled softly. "That's great, truly."
The woman's arms grappled her suddenly, squeezing her tight. "Thanks, so much," she whispered, her voice breaking.
At first the motion felt awkward, but she quickly hugged her back. "Of course! What are friends for?"
When the embrace ended, the tears were already drying on Mylène's cheeks, and Mari pressed her lips into a thin line to avoid asking. If the woman wanted to say something more, she would.
"I wonder if Alya has already strut her stuff," she teased softly to break the tension, and they both laughed.
"Well, I hope one of them returns quick, I have another dress that needs to go up the walk, and Rose is running way late," she sighed, fingering a black dress. "I don't even know if the final touches look okay…" She touched the hem more nervously, and Marinette grit her teeth.
"Well, I'm caught up until the next wave," she breathed. "I can try it on for now so you can make any adjustments?" Mylène's eyes lit up. "I-I'm not modeling it though!" Her voice sounded shrill now.
She laughed, shaking her head. "Course not! Thank you so much Marinette, you're a lifesaver!"
****POV Change****
Lila's eyes narrowed as she watched Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She hated the bluenette with a passion ever since they were younger. They'd been rivals, and for some strange reason, Adrien still seemed bent on being friends with her despite any real interest flowing both ways. Nobody trumped up Lila. Yet, the blonde still preferred her company.
"I-I'm not modeling it though!" Her panicked voice echoed across the bustling room, her face burning bright crimson as she accepted one of the fatso's garish creations.
With heated anger she watched the girl undress timidly in a confined corner, pulling on the incredibly short black dress. It was almost as if the piece was designed for someone shorter, or with shorter legs. The blue-haired girl kept tugging the hem down at the thighs, but it wasn't budging more than two inches passed her core. One false bend and the world would see her secrets, as it were.
"I need to put the shoes on, Marinette!" The other girl pleaded, and Lila rolled her eyes. How could someone be so nervous about clothes. They were just clothes, and her body was just that. However, she looked like she was going to die.
The dress glimmered, sparkling each time she turned, the thin straps over her shoulders a bright silver color. The low scoop was showing the frantic undulating of the bluenette's swollen breasts as she hyperventilated, and when she saw the back, the plunge went low enough to kiss the swell of her ass. She might as well have no back at all.
She couldn't hear everything they were saying, but she watched in partial amusement as the heavyset girl got Marinette out of her sneakers and into six-inch stilettos, and the lace intertwined up to the knee. Okay, so the dress and shoes weren't that bad, but she still hated Marinette.
The blue-haired girl took one step and almost collapsed, wobbling, and Mylène caught her, laughing.
"Don't let anybody see me like this!"
Lila's mouth curved into a slow malicious smile. Oh, oh…oh. The beginnings of a wonderfully, beautiful, awful idea stirred in her mind as she looked around. She'd make a fool of the bluenette. She'd make sure Adrien saw what a clumsy, useless, bottom dweller she was!
She found one of the producers and approached him slowly, offering a wide smile. "Hi!" She gave a small wave. "I'm Lila Rossi, I'm friends with Adrien, and his father, anyway," she giggled, waving her hand flippantly as she leaned against the confused man. "My friend over there is supposed to go up right after Adrien, but she's really nervous and doesn't remember when the next walk is. She's too afraid to ask, so I was wondering if you could possibly just escort her there?"
The man looked skeptical and she sighed, rolling her eyes, pulling out a bunch of money, holding it inconspicuously out for him to see. "Extra if you help me trick her."
She watched his eyes flicker over the money and saw the greed in them. All too easy. She'd learned that there was little money couldn't buy over the years. When her lies didn't work, money made up for the rest. She giggled as he pocketed the cash, nodding.
****POV Change****
"Wow, you look beautiful," Mylène gushed, staring at her through wide eyes, and her face burned.
"N-n-no," she stammered, still trying to pull the hem down her thighs, but it was refusing to cooperate.
"You're right," she smiled softly, tugging on the long pigtails gently without permission. The ties came free, and her hair came loose in thick waves around her body. Mylène scooped her fingers through the tendrils but shook her head. "Tip your face down and shake it out hard then throw it back."
Marinette's eyes widened at the tone in her voice and the sudden command, so she dropped her head so all of her mid-back length hair fell forward, shaking her head like a….dog, really. After a moment, as she got lightheaded, so she threw it back, staring, blinking at her friend.
"Better," she cheered, "lean down." Marinette bent, a little, and the girl combed some of the locks over so the part of her hair was off center, and splayed more of the tresses, biting her tongue for several minutes before stepping back. "PERFECT! You're not beautiful anymore," she said triumphantly, grabbing a make-up tray.
"I d-didn't…I-I…w-what?"
"Now you're drop dead sexy," she said confidently, "Close your eyes and stop arguing."
Marinette squeaked, but grinned, admiring the fire of boldness growing in her friend as she dabbed something on her eyes. Next went the eyeliner and, by the looks of it, rosy lipstick.
"Take a look!"
Her heart fell out of her chest before the pace tripled when she glimpsed her image in the nearest mirror, silver shadow gracing her eyes, thick black eyeliner making her blue orbs shine.
"W-Why do the make-up," she gasped. "I was just supposed to try on the dress."
"Oh, I don't know," she giggled softly. "Cuz I think I'm not the only one who's afraid to look in the mirror and see things for what they are," she said slyly, pulling her away.
Fresh heat invaded her face, and she gaped at herself. "My hair is a mess!"
"Nope, it's messy…tousled. Like…just had sex hair. Trust me, it's super sexy." Mylène said firmly. "Now, admit you look great, and I'll finish my adjustments so you can end your ultimate shame," she said conspiratorially, giggling.
Their eyes locked through the mirror, and Marinette burst out laughing, enjoying the confident side of her friend that she'd never seen. It was refreshing, and she was filled with a joy she didn't know was possible at the fact she was able to be part of it.
"O-Okay, you did a great job. I look…good."
"I'll accept that," she teased. "Now, let me see that hem."
***Twenty Minutes Later***
"Miss Dupain-Cheng?" An unfamiliar voice made her turn, wobbling a little on her heels as Mylène inspected her work for the hundredth time.
"Yes?" Her brows came together in a frown. "Am I needed? I thought I was done until the next wave after break?"
The man smiled politely, nodding his head. "You're fine, we just needed you to give the final okay on one of your designs," he said slowly, gripping her elbow. "You'll be back in five minutes."
"O-Oh, is that okay?" Her eyes shifted to the woman kneeling on the floor, and she blinked slowly.
"Oh, yeah, I'll just clean up, and do the last looks when you get back." Mylène offered a broad smile, and Marinette returned the gesture before she felt herself being tugged away.
The bluenette didn't recognize the direction they were going in. She'd never been this way before, and she frowned. "Y-You sure we're going the right way?" Her heart started to pound at the prospect something was wrong, listening as the chorus of music and voices grew louder.
"Yup," he grinned brightly. "It's just going to be through here." He gestured at the door, and she hesitated.
"Why is there so much noise?" Her eyes narrowed.
"We're at the stage," he said softly. "The person you're looking at is ready to walk, but there was a tear and we had to fix it. We need a final okay from the designer."
"Oh, God!" It was Adrien. She'd designed for Adrien, so he was going to see her in…her eyes widened. "I-I have to g-go change."
"No time," he said firmly, pushing her through.
Marinette stumbled backstage, staring at all the beautiful models waiting to take the runway and swallowed her panic. Okay, she was a professional, she could do this…she could do it…
She walked tentatively towards the actual stage, seeking out the blonde boy, and she spotted him near the curtain. However, as she approached…he walked out, and she frowned. Maybe she had taken too much time? He couldn't wait for her to approve if it was his turn to go on?
She shimmied her way to the curtain and peered out. He was walking up towards the front, his gait perfect, the outfit she designed glimmering under the bright lights as he moved. Her heart contracted, and her mouth was suddenly dry, forcing her to lick her lips. She felt heat pooling in the bottom of her gut.
As he got to the end of the walk, someone touched her bare back, and shoved.
