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“I don’t think I’m going to be good at it, and I definitely don’t think that I’m the person that’s going to make environmental conservation sexy, but I’m here.”
Miriam waves a hand. “Don’t be silly, you’re going to be amazing, and beneath the lab coat I see someone who I could easily set up as a model if she were interested.” The way she says it is pointed, like she wants me to agree that I could model.
I just laugh. “Miriam, that’s not true.”
“It is. I know several lingerie companies who would kill for someone with your looks and your body. But,” she says, “that’s a conversation that we’ll revisit another day. Let’s get you inside and ready.”
I follow her in the door, and the security guard doesn’t even bat an eye as she waves to him and leads me through. I would have gotten lost in the maze of halls, and I honestly have no idea where we are in relation to outside when she ushers me into a room filled with racks of clothes and a wall that’s covered in mirrors and lights.
“Do you want to wear a dress or a suit?” she asks, walking over to one of the racks.
“Dress,” I say. Even though I don’t claim to have a high level of street style, keeping the clothes I wear feminine is one of the main ways I can set myself apart in a field that’s filled with men. So I wear dresses when I can. Plus, they’re more comfortable to me.
Luckily, Dr. Fayberg isn’t a person who gives two shits about whether the people who work for him are men. If you know your stuff and are the best person for the job, you’ll get the job. Which is likely why there are more women in our office than normal. It’s a place that I don’t have to worry about whether or not wearing a dress will make my colleagues take me less seriously.
Miriam starts flipping through the clothes, and then turns and takes a long look at me before beginning her search again. “I want you in green,” she says.
“Green?”
“You know, psychic links and enforcement and all that.”
I put down my bag on one of the chairs in front of the mirror. “Given that I work for Green Leaf labs, isn’t that a little on the nose?”
She pulls out a vibrant dress and holds it up in front of me before putting it back. “Our subconscious could care less about whether something is on the nose. I want people to create a link between you and what you’re talking about, and color is the easiest way to do that.”
Fair enough. Psychology isn't my area of expertise, but that makes sense given the little bit that I’ve studied.
She pulls out a different dress, this one a much darker green, and holds it up. “This one, I think.”
It’s fairly simple, with short sleeves and a high waist decorated with nothing but a line of satin. But the skirt falls in striped tiers of a couple different fabrics, lace and silk and taffeta, giving it a lovely texture and honest to God reminding me of leaves.
“That’s pretty,” I say. “Will it fit?”
Miriam smirks, “Of course it will. I’m very good at what I do.” She points at a door. “Put it on. Then we’ll get to your hair and make-up.”
I go as fast as I can, shrugging the dress on without really looking at myself, and I hastily fold my clothes. Miriam grabs them as soon as I come out of the bathroom. “I’ll take care of these. Sit down, we’re ready for you.”
Hot, muscled, eyes bluer than the sea... and a total stranger. He tells me he's going to show me what passion is. That once I experience it, I'll become a romantic at heart, just like him.
I should ignore him.
I should forget he exists.
I should definitely NOT invite him over to see if he's able to put his money where his mouth is.
