She entered the club with confidence, she swaggered and swayed where she should for maximum appeal. Her make-up enticing, her tactically dramatic blue pixie cut perfect, and her jewelry over adorned to purposely seem desperate for attention. She had metal in all the spots that made her seem easy, bright hoops in her ears, studs in her nose and tongue, and an overly cute gemstone belly jewel. The walked to the music with a bouncy, perky gait that had her assets jiggling so much that by the time she reached the bar men already had their wallets out to buy her drinks. And she took all of them, drank every neon girly-drink, knocked back every shot, gulped down every beer, whiskey and wine glass. All the while, she scanned the crowd, casual conversation rolling off her tongue, giggles punctuated every joke and pick-up line, she even slurred where she needed to. Everytime she didn't see the look she was searching for she moved on and struck up the next pointless conversation. Too many confident, capable looks. Too many 'I get what I want thrown at me' attitudes. And finally while getting hit on another random hedge fund snake, she saw them. Two guys who radiated the 'I'll never stand a chance with you unless you're drunk out of your mind' vibe. In their eyes she saw what she was after, the hunger. They were already devouring her with their eyes. She excused herself from Brad, or Chad, or which ever pointless name he mentioned, and made her way to the restroom. She stumbled and giggled as overtly as she thought necessary as she 'conveniently' missed the bathroom and fell out the back exit into the alley. She giggled once more for good measure, eyes closed but she could hear them follow her out, smell their lust as they beheld her sprawled out on the wet pavement. The took a little too long drinking her in for her taste, but she guessed she couldn't blame them. She had gone with the stiletto-heeled thigh-high boots over garters and fishnets, with flippy school girl skirt sans underwear to make access easy. And the sheer mesh off the shoulder blouse/exposed lace bra look that just screamed wet dream to most guys. She knew how to bait her hook, she was a professional after all.

"Damn," said one of the creeps as he ran his hand up the inside of her thigh.

Her bare mound was engorged, this both being visibly pleasing and wafting her pheromones, which she knew no guy could resist.

"Dude," said the other guy cautiously, but she could smell his arousal as well, "you sure we should do this? We could get in big trouble."

Growing frustrated, she parted her wet lips and moaned quietly with her eyes still closed, "oh, baby," to his stroking of her thigh, and licked her lips.

"See!" He exclaimed excitedly, "this chick so wants it."

He was leaning in toward her face and she had to fight laughing at the thought that this asshole was actually going to steal a kiss from her first.

"Hey!" Came the shout, and she could sense it instantly deflating the arousal of her two companions. Her two suitors quickly got to their feet in fear. She opened an eye to see a man at the entrance to the alley. He was average height, small of build, and wore thick rimmed glasses. His hair was a little long and messy, not in that 'trying to be cool' but that 'just don't take care of it' style.

"Leave her alone." Said her would-be prince Valiant, in a tone that didn't convey a lot of confidence.

"Or what, Romeo," said the one that was previously feeling her up, "what can you do about it?"

"Well," he replied, holding up his phone with the number already dialed, "I can call the cops." Then he turned it back around and the flash of his camera went off three times. Her 'customers' went white at this point and ran down the alley, scooting past her 'hero' against the opposite wall and down the street.

As the man walked up to her she sat up suddenly and uttered, "damn it!" She knew she would have to start over now, probably a different club.

The guy was taken aback, not only by her attitude toward what just happened, but the fact that this girl, who was passed out drunk just moments before, now seemed perfectly sober. Still, he led with, "are you ok?"

"Do I not look ok?" She asked, standing up and adjusting herself.

"I'm sorry, did," he began, "did you want that to happen just now?"

"That is my business, isn't it?" She retorted.

"Ok, I was just trying to help." He said, placing his hands out in front of himself.

"Well, thank you but my night is ruined now." She said in a huff and strode past him toward the end of the alley.

She was already spinning her plans in her head when the next words stopped her in her tracks, "can I at least buy you a coffee, maybe?"

'Shit' she scolded herself. She was so annoyed with him interrupting her hunt, she didn't even think he might be one of those guys. The ones who go looking for a girl to save hoping she will reward him with sex.

She breathed in, cramming her annoyance down for now, and turned back to him. She played with the hair over her ear and gave him a shy smile. She knew all the different smiles. "Um, sure. That'd be great."

The coffee shop was close enough to the club she could still hear the muffled thump of the music. They sat in the booth at what turned out to be a little collage coffee shop, all the drinks were handmade, authentic hipster crafted, and expensive. He paid without a second thought even though she had made sure to order the most expensive drink she could. It was quiet at this time, three young college girls sat at one table with their drinks and laptops that went unattended as the girls seemed more in the mood to chat about boys they had recently been out with. She quickly considered if she could rope them into a menage 'a quatre with her hero here, but quickly doubted it was his speed. The only other patron was the middle aged guy, whose attention was divided between the young girls and the porn on his tablet. His arousal was palatable. She could certainly do the young, innocent but curious college girl, but didn't have the time or opportunity to change. Not with her not-so-dashing rescuer here.

"Do you have a name?" He asked, as she set down the drink she'd been sipping while evaluating her options.

"Oh, Cissera." She spouted. 'Damn it' She berated herself internally, he'd caught her off guard again and she'd just spilled her real name. No one was supposed to ever get her real name.

"That is an unusual name," he said, with a look of genuine interest actually. "I mean, it's beautiful…"

"Trendy parents," she interrupted, trying to laugh it off, "everyone just calls me Sissy."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Sissy." He smiled, "I'm Mike. I know, it's boring compared to Cissera, but that's me."

"No," she said, trying to find the footing to deploy her legendary charm at last. "I like it. And thank you Mike, I know I was a bit of a bitch a little bit ago, but you did save me." She ran the tip of her boot up his leg as the pitch of her voice dropped, taking a more suggestive tone, "please, can I repay you? Somehow?" She smiled, biting her bottom lip and looking up at him through her eyelashes.

You would have thought she pulled a knife on him as Mike jumped in the booth and pushed her foot back down to the floor. "No, that won't be necessary, really. I just wanted to help, I don't need some kind of reward for doing the right thing." His face returned to a smile and he reached across the table to take Sissy's hand. "Tell me Cissera, are you in some kind of trouble?"

'What the hell?' She thought. He was attracted to her, she could feel it. But she didn't smell the lust. He didn't ooze it like he should be right now. To her he had just smelled… uncomfortable.

"No," she stated, shaking her head. "I'm fine, Mike. And you don't have to try the seduction moves," she nodded to his hands, "I practically just threw it at you."

He quickly pulled his hands back, "I'm sorry Cissera, I'm not trying to bed you. I was just trying to comfort you."

"I just… it's just how I need to get by." She confessed, "it's no big deal." Inside she was screaming as she was spilling her guts after he had asked using her real name. "I don't need to be comforted, and please, you can call me Sissy." She had to steer him to that and away from her true name, or she was in big trouble.

"Ok, Sissy," he sighed, "but your actions tell me something is very wrong. That kind of attention seeking usually stems from deeper problems."

She stared at him for a minute trying to figure him out. She usually understood people in seconds but he was still a blank picture to her. "Are you a shrink or something?"

"No," he replied, "I did have some psyche courses in college, it comes in handy in what I really do."

"Which is?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I," he paused, continuing when her eyes widened impatiently, "I help people."

"Is that actually a job?" She scoffed at his statement.

"Only kind of." Was his reply, "I don't need the money, so I spend my time helping people. People in financial trouble, gang trouble, drug addicts, the homeless, you know, anyone in dire straights."

"You don't need the money?," she smiled, "so you're rich?" Rich people she got, the wealthy were easy. Rich guy could be coerced into doing anything in the fear of not being rich anymore.

"My father is rich," he sighed, now looking down almost in shame, "I let him attach his company's name on my work for PR, and he lets me pick my causes. It's a win-win deal, I guess."

"So, you're a rich boy, and you go around just helping people." She giggled at this a bit, "so you're friggin Batman."

"No," he said, "I'm Not a crime fighter or superhero. I'm just trying to help."

"Ok, bullshit Mike," she looked him right in the eye, "guys like that do not exist. Guys do not go through life independently wealthy, go around randomly helping people, and not take sex from a girl who offers it like its owed to them somehow. So what is your real deal? What's the scam?" But as Sissy looked into his eyes, she didn't see lies, or greed. She saw no lust, no wrath, none of the big seven. His eyes were soft, and giving, and they were full of compassion. And pain, she could now see the hurt. Someone or something had once hurt him and it haunted him. Now she just had to figure out how to use this. Someone like him was rare, and if she could somehow score him she would be set for a long time.

"No scam," he said, "but you immediately went there and it seemed like you were trying to get yourself assaulted." It was his turn now, to eye her critically, "are you a con artist, Sissy? Do you get men to rape you and then blackmail them for money?"

"I don't take money." She argued, but her voice grew quieter, "I do take something from them, but not money."

They were both quiet as she finished her coffee. She needed to say something before he asked further into her last comment. She had no idea what was wrong tonight. Her charms had failed her, she kept barring herself to him and not in the usual way. She was not going to score this guy, it seemed. She needed to cut her losses. As she sat the mug down she broke the silence, "ok, you have bought me a coffee. You are officially my hero. Are we done? Can I go now?"

"You seem to be all over the place, Sissy," he began. "First you are angry, then shy, then you try to seduce me, now you are back to being angry with me. How much of you is an act, Cissera?"

'Shit, her real name again, and it seemed he wasn't ready to drop this party. "All of me is an act, ok?" Here she was forced to spill her guts again. Damn rules. "You wouldn't like the real me. I'm not someone you want to get to know, Mike. I'm dangerous."

"But I do want to get to know you." Mike said, taking her hand once more. "Don't you want a connection? Don't you want love one day?"

She didn't know what this sensation was as he held on to her hand. It was scary and unfamiliar, and she felt compelled to answer his questions, real name or not, "I… I don't know." She stammered. She was never unsure of her lines in her life. "I have never known love in a long while, I'm not even sure what it feels like anymore."

He gently squeezed her hand, "You have been selling yourself, well effectively, all along and no one has shown you love? What about family, fiends, or parents?"

"No parents, and as for family they are literally a nightmare."

"So, abandonment issues, transactional views on intimacy, probably instances of abuse, you are a pop psychology swag bag, Sissy." He tried to deliver this with a charming laugh.

She pulled her hand out of his and gave him a scathing look. "I'm happy my issues could bring you such enjoyment."

"No, I didn't mean to sound that way." He apologized, "I'm sorry. Look it's late, or early I guess, depending on how you look at it. Let me take you home. And tomorrow, if you will let me, I'll take you and show you what a life of acceptance looks like. And how one of service can feel."

"Um, I don't exactly have a home you can take me to." She said with a sideways glance.

"Then where do you sleep?" He asked.

"That usually depends on where I am after the last person." She shrugged, even giving him a wry smile.

Mike closed his eyes and sighed, "then you will have to come home with me," he said, as he stood up and offered her his hand.

"Finally," she said, taking his hand, "do you have a big… bed?" She said, making the last word breathy as their faces drifted close, drenching the question in innuendo.

"I have a guest room," he rebuffed as he turned away from her hot breath hanging between their lips that were inches apart, and led her out of the coffee shop. "but it does have a full size bed."

"Better than nothing, I guess," she sighed sarcastically.

He led her to a big truck with four doors and a large cargo bed. It was midnight blue, pretty but not racy red or pretentious black.

"And here I expected a Prius." She quipped at him.

"I'm all for saving the planet, but I have to haul things a lot. People and supplies. So a truck is a necessity." He said, as he helped her into the passenger side, "besides, I like my truck." He actually winked at her as he closed the door.

He lived in a penthouse apartment, it turned out, over one hundred stories in the sky. His place was half the top floor, big kitchen, big central room and three other rooms not counting the bathroom. Which was also huge!

"Ok, how rich are you?" She asked, wide eyed as she stepped out onto the balcony that was large enough to have its own pool.

"I only have this place because of my father." He said, seeming almost ashamed of it. "Like I told you I don't actually earn any money, he owns this place. It's where he kept my second step mom, before he divorced my first step mom."

"Ooo," she teased in a schoolgirl tone, "mistresses, adultery. Sounds like daddy could be a client of mine."

"And what exactly do you do for this clientele? What do you take from them?" He pressed, forcing her to bite her bottom lip in embarrassment or frustration, she was really unsure of which one it was now. She continued to slip up like an amateur ever since Mike entered her life. "You made it clear it wasn't money."

"It's… not important." She attempted to deflect the conversation, "I was just making the joke that as a former mistress pad…" she again lowered her voice to a purr, running her hands up his shirt and trying to get her lips close to his, "it might need a new mistress. Couldn't you use someone to take care of you after you spend all day taking care of others?"

Her lips were a hair's breadth from his when he once more pulled away from her in panic. "Sissy," he hissed tearsly, as he pushed her away by her shoulders. "Please, no. I told you that is not what I want from you."

Sissy screamed through her teeth in frustration and turned away to walk back to the apartment. She didn't want to let him see her upset, and she was livid. She knew he was attracted to her. She could smell it, damn it! But there was no hunger, no lust in his eyes when he looked at her. Every guy felt lust at the sight of her. Why didn't he! What was going on? Why did she have no power over him? She wanted to have him in her power, and for some reason she wanted him to take her more than she wanted anyone before to want her.

He ran to catch up to her after she got inside, reached out and turned her by her shoulder to face him. "I'm sorry, Sissy. I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings." She quickly regained her composure before he managed to turn her around, she was not going to crumble around him, she refused.

"It's fine Mike, that's just how I've always maintained control over situations." She let out a cute practiced sigh and smiled warmly. "You have made your point several times. I'm just acting out of habit I guess. I apologize."

"Sissy," as he once more looked at her with his warm eyes, and she felt she would be ill. But for some reason she couldn't turn away, she wanted him to look at her forever, "you don't need to keep your defenses up with me, it must be exhausting. You are safe here, and there is nothing wrong with being vulnerable sometimes."

'Yea, not happening, not if I want to continue existing,' she thought as she continued to smile at him.

He took her to one of the other doors in the apartment. Inside was a white four poster queen bed complete with the princess fabric. It connected to a walk-in closet as big as the room itself, but empty, as well as its own door to the bathroom.

"If this is the guest room, your room must be enormous." She said in awe.

"Actually, I sleep in the guest room." He admitted, "I don't really come in here, this was her room."

She saw the haunted look return, and she finally began to get a tiny peek behind his barriers, "she…she did something to you, didn't she Mike?" She asked, trying to convince herself she only asked because this might finally be her in.

"It's not important," he said, putting on the first fake smile she had ever seen on him, "but I figured you might appreciate it." She strode to the bed and ran her hands on the fabrics, which had to be at least three thousand thread count. "There probably aren't any clothes still in her closet, but I do have some t-shirts you could sleep in if you need."

"That's ok," she said looking over her shoulder and giving him a wicked grin, "I always sleep in the nude anyway." This she punctuated with a wink.

"Oh… I, um…I'll leave you to get… get ready then," he stammered nervously, "good… goodnight, then…Sissy." And closed the doors.

"Nighty night, Mikey." She called through the doors. She turned to see herself in the full length mirror by the door to the bathroom. She saw the smile on her own face. Not one of her arsenal of smiles she used on people, but a genuine, happy, real smile. One she had not seen on herself in forever. She wiped it from her face immediately, and fell back onto the bed and once again growled through her teeth. 'What the hell was wrong with me?' She asked herself. She had bungled and botched her way through every interaction with him since the alley. They should be lying together naked by now, if not already in possession of what she wanted then damn close to it. How could this have become as screwed up as it has so fast?

She had to get it together, she stood in front of the mirror and looked herself over. It was wrong from the start, she decided. She was in full on manic-pixie-dream-girl for club hunting, but this was obviously not his thing and she hadn't had the chance to be anything else because he'd been with her the whole night afterward. It was so obvious that she needed to do sweet, vulnerable, girl next-door to get this back on track. Even though he had already seen her like this, she had admitted to him earlier everything about her was an act. It could still work, if she could get to his heart, she could lead him astray, and she could still pull it off. Sexy-sweet girl next door, she had done it plenty of times before, it was nothing new. "So why am I so nervous right now?" She whispered at her reflection.

Mike came out of his room the next morning in shorts and a t-shirt, scratching his unruly hair and yawning. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the girl sitting at the kitchen counter. It took him more than a few seconds to register that it was Sissy. She sat demurely on the stool, ankles crossed in modest heeled jelly sandals, and bare-legged in a yellow sundress. Light brown wavy hair cascaded down to her shoulders, flipped over to one side revealing small silver studs in place of the neon hoops in her ears from the night before. In fact the only other piece of jewelry on her now was a silver chain around her neck with a tiny silver heart. She was flipping through one of his magazines and seemed to not notice him right away. When she finally turned to see him and gave him a warm smile, her smokey eyes were now lighty kissed in pink and her lips simply glossed. Even her now manicured nails lost her neon colors for clear polish.

"Good morning." She said with a musical tone to her voice. "Did you sleep ok?"

"Isn't that my question?" He asked, still confused.

"Can't I be concerned?" She retorted with a smile.

"I'm fine, Sissy." He said, "but you. You seem very different."

"What?" She giggled, "I figured if I'm going to spend the day with you, helping people, I maybe shouldn't look like you stopped to pick up a hooker on the way."

"First off, I wouldn't have said you looked like a hooker before. But you definitely don't look like it now." He paused, and Sissy was sure he was taking extra time to look at her, "secondly, I know the closet was empty, and you didn't have a bag or even a purse on you last night."

"I have my ways," she said coyly.

"And were you wearing a wig last night then?" He indicated her completely different hairstyle.

"Mikey!" She feigned indignation, "that is NOT something you ask a girl. Not if you want this date you set up last night to still happen."

"It…it's not a date," he stuttered, she knew she had him on defense now. This was more like it, she was finally in control.

She hopped off the stool and minced over to him, stopping a wholesome distance between them and stood with her hands clasped in front of her waist. "Whatever it is, shouldn't you be getting ready?" He was quiet for a few heartbeats, that made Sissy realize he was still looking her over, "Mike?" She asked, prodding.

"Oh," he said with a start, "yes. I'll just go get ready." Before stumbling into the bathroom.

"Yes!" She whispered as the door closed. That is how things were supposed to go. She felt like she was finally on her game again.

She went to his room while he showered. The room wasn't even half the size of the closet in the room he put her in. All it contained was a twin bed with a chest at the end, and a dresser with a small mirror attached. He had jeans and a t-shirt on the end of the bed, so she put the shirt back away and went to the closet. It was only a couple feet deep and contained only a handful of nicer clothes. Sissy picked out a nice polo and placed it on the bed. She shook her head and thought, 'what am I going to do with you, Mike?' Quickly followed with her wondering why that thought came to mind.

She could hear the shower still running so she went to the next door. It turned out to be an office. The room was at least twice the size of his bedroom, with a desk and computer and bookshelves containing a hodge-podge of books. The books ranged from home renovation to navigating loans to felony law and other law books. An eclectic collection fitting for a guy trying to help everyone.

She caught her reflection in the darkened computer monitor and saw the smile from last night again. She shook her head and growled to remove the unpracticed smile to replace it with a polished one. "Control the situation, control."

She had sat back down at the stool for a few minutes before Mike exited the bathroom in a robe, night clothes in hand, and smiled at Sissy as he passed. She lifted a hand as she smiled back, wiggling her fingers at him. As soon as he entered his room she swept into the bathroom and grabbed a comb. She was standing at his bedroom door by the time he called for her.

"Sissy?" He turned to find her there already, "did you change out my shirt?"

She walked up to Mike slowly with her best, doting wife smile. He was already in his jeans, but bare chested. His t-shirts camouflaged the fact that his slight build was actually quite toned. Either Mike worked out or this was from actual work.

"Yes I did." She said in an authoritative tone, "have you ever considered that if you are going to approach people to help them, you might not want to appear like someone who needs help themselves. She slipped the polo over his head, running her fingers down his abs as she did. He breathed in sharply, "sorry. Looks good though, do you have a routine?"

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"I don't really work out," he whispered nervously, from her proximity, "I spend a day or two each week building habitat houses though."

"Mikey, you really are a saint." She whispered back. She took the comb in her hand and ran it through the unruly mop atop his head. Mike braced himself for another inevitable pass at him, but she simply finished his coif and stepped back. "You were cute Mike, but now I dare say you look handsome." She reached up for his hair again and stopped. She looked away and made herself blush. "I'll leave and let you finish getting ready."

"Oh, uh," he stumbled over his own tongue, "yea, I'll…finish up." He watched her leave until she completely disappeared from sight.

They pulled out of the underground garage in his big blue truck. She had her window down and her brown hair fluttered in the wind. Her eyes were closed and her shiny lips pursed as the wind blew over her face as she smiled. Mike realized several times he was watching her longer than the road. And tried to refocus on driving. He was having a hard time believing this was the same girl from last night. She was so different.

"So," he said, breaking the silence, "is this the real Sissy? Or is the girl I see before me just another act?"

"This may be the real Sissy," she said, sliding across the seat and laying her head on his arm. "Do you like her better than easy sexpot Sissy?" A strange feeling bubbled up in her gut. A whining, sick sensation she feared was guilt. Why the hell was she feeling guilty for giving him his dream girl. What was happening? This is what she did. She had never felt ashamed of it before.

"Kind of," he admitted, "she definitely seems amazing, but I would still really like to meet the really real Sissy."

"Maybe I don't really know who she is." She confessed, risking dragging down this mood she spent all morning cultivating. "As far as I know, this is me."

"I do like this Sissy," he confessed, with a small kiss on top of her head, "but I can't help feeling you're still hiding something from me."

She smiled at his sudden affection. She looked at herself in the rear view and saw her cheeks flush. She wasn't trying to blush right then and was confused as to why she was.

They arrived at an inner-city shelter. It had a brass plaque outside the door that read 'Anna Mason Memorial Shelter'. Three men came out to meet Mike. They exchanged greetings, handshakes and back slaps before beginning to unload boxes in the truck bed. Sissy tried to grab one herself but everytime one of the boys came back out they took it from her hands in a grand show of chivalry. So when the last box slipped from her hands she shrugged and walked in.

Inside was a typical commercial kitchen with its steel counters and ancient cooking equipment. Mike introduced her to a late middle aged woman named Margaret, who apparently ran the shelter. When she asked who mike had brought with Sissy made sure to introduce herself with the right name and said she was here to help.

Margaret smiled and gave Sissy a hug thanking her. She quickly directed her to the dining hall where they could use help serving lunches to those who were unable to stand in line. Meanwhile she took Mike aside and explained they had an ove that quit working again and he agreed to look at it. When Margaret thought they were out of earshot she asked Mike where he found such a pretty girl. She had that 'mother meeting the new girlfriend for the first time' tone to her voice. As Sissy left the kitchen she heard Mike answer that it was like heaven sent her to him.

When she reached the food line, one of the other volunteers serving food remarked what a lovely smile she had. Surprised by the comment Sissy's face went blank. The lady quickly told her it wasn't a problem, that they needed more smiles in here. The people could use them. Sissy was completely lost as to which smile she was using considering she wasn't smiling on purpose. So she decided on her shy smile and stepped up to the table.

Ok servant girl, she thought, I've done this one before. She scooped up a full tray and followed another volunteer with amazing grace. Sissy flowed around the tables setting food in front of people. Women, Men, children, and elderly of both sexes. She got smiles, thank yous and grateful touches to her arm. While she recognized the looks of some, most wore eyes she had never seen. Sad but grateful was as close as she could describe it. Her last plate was set down in front of a man named Roscoe. By the hat and pins he wore he was a Korean war veteran. He looked into her eyes and she could see his appreciation of her looks, but his age was apparently well beyond being able to experience the hunger. Still he told her if he had known someone as pretty as her was waiting at home for him, he could have fought another ten years on her image alone. She gave him a wry smile and kissed his forehead. His eyes lit up with the kind of happiness Sissy had not seen in forever.

After two more round trips serving food, Sissy was ushered to a room with cots where she and two other ladies made up beds for those who would have to sleep here tonight. The rough cheap fabric was clean, but made her miss those wonderful sheets in Mike's master bedroom. She found herself wondering how the people here would feel if she snuck some of those in for the cots. She was stopped dead in the middle of finishing a bed when she wondered where that thought had come from. Why should she care if someone else is comfortable when she is? It didn't make sense. What was happening to her? Was this gambit worth what it seemed to be doing to her?

"Are you ok?" Asked another lady.

"Ye…yea," Sissy replied, "just a stray thought." As she continued finishing the bed.

"Mike?" Asked the other.

"What?" Said Sissy, confused.

"We all had those stray thoughts, honey" she said before laughing heartily.

"That man is a Godsend," replied the first, slapping the other woman with a pillowcase, but smiling at Sissy.

"Yea," said Sissy distantly, "he's wonderful, isn't he?" Her thoughts far off, truthfully considering what she had just said.

She found Mike elbow deep in the oven Margaret complained about.

"Will it live?" Sissy asked.

"No," he sighed, pulling out of the oven in frustration. "The wiring is shot. Burnt up. I'll either need to organize another fund raiser or ask my father for the money."

"Well you said your dad funded your charities." She said with a smile.

"Believe me the fundraiser would be easier." Mike replied, wiping his hands off on a rag. "There is a big step between getting my father to agree, And that's if he finds it worthy, and getting his accountants to let go of the money."

Sissy looked over Mike's shirt and took another rag to wipe the dirt off the polo she picked out for him. She sighed, "good thing I chose a dark color."

"And that's why I wear t-shirts." He said with a smile.

Sissy gave him a cute little pout. "I just wanted you to look nice."

"And I appreciate it." He put his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. Sissy found herself floating in his scent. Warm, inviting and more comfortable than she'd ever been. She found she wanted to stay there forever. When he broke it off Sissy stepped back, and adjusted herself, including fixing her hair that did not need fixing. Anything to distract her from those feelings she nearly lost herself in. "So why do you organize the fundraiser? I thought Margaret was in charge."

"Margaret runs the shelter for me. She was mom's best friend. This is really mom's shelter. It's been mine since she died and it suffered till I became old enough to assume control."

"How old were you when she died." Asked Sissy, at the same time wondering why she was asking.

"Eight," he answered, obviously saddened thinking about it.

"I'm sorry mike," she said, "I didn’t mean to…"

"Its ok," he said with a smile, "Believe it or not I love sharing her memory."

"Why did she die?" She continued.

"Multiple Sclerosis," he said, "ultimately cruel for her. She was a dancer."

"Aw," moaned Sissy sarcastically but smiling, "mommy was a ballerina?"

This time it was Mike's turn to laugh, "um, no." He smiled, "exotic. Mom was a stripper. Dad met her when he and a business client sealed a deal in her club. They hit it off and he went back for weeks just to see her. He finally promised to rescue her and she'd never have to dance for anyone but him again. The shelter was a gift from my father. She had spent time in city run shelters in her life. Building a good one was her crusade. And now it's mine. One moment, one meeting changed her life. That's why I believe everyone deserves that chance. I've made that my mission in life"

"Wait," she said, "so when we first met last night, when I looked like some hooker or stripper…" she eyed him suspiciously.

"No!" He almost shrieked, " Sissy I promise I was not at the club trolling for my own stripper wife. I saw you in trouble and wanted to help, that's all. Even though you didn't actually need my protection, I still felt, and still feel you need my help. I'm here for you, Sissy."

"Thank you Mike, I do appreciate it," she replied but found she couldn't stop blinking. The corners of her eyes were sticky then suddenly wet.

"You don't have to cry, but if you need to that's fine." Said Mike.

"I'm not trying to," she said, voice cracking as she tried to wipe the liquid from beneath her eyes.

Mike once more wrapped his arms around her as she cried into his shirt, frustrated as to why she couldn't control this feeling, or understand why crying into his arms felt so good at the same time.

By the time Margaret found them again Sissy had regained her composure. And while Mike explained the situation with the oven she was internally berating herself for losing control of herself like that. At this rate if she succeeded, if she got what she wanted, what would be left of her? Would she just be a blubbering mess? She hadn't seemed to be able to control herself since Mike entered her life. Was it worth continuing, or should she just run while she could? Or could she at this point? Why did leaving and never seeing Mike again now fill her with fear?

"Hey, did Agnes come in today?" Mike asked Margaret. "I didn't see her."

"Nope," Margaret shook her head, "she didn't come in yesterday either."

"Ok," he said, "make a to-go meal, and we'll take it to her. I know where she lives."

They were in his truck again in minutes and driving deeper into the inner city. Agnes, it turned out, lived in a tiny house sandwiched between two warehouses. What remained of whatever yard she had previously had was lost to scrap and trash from the surrounding business. Inside the house was really just two rooms and a bathroom. The cough could be heard from the front door, Mike was into the bedroom before Sissy realized what she was hearing. The elderly lady was in her bed tissues littered the blanket and floor around the bed. Fuzzy cotton ball of hair sticking up.

"Agnes, how long have you been sick?" Asked Mike.

"Just a….couple… days." Agnes replied between pauses to cough.

"Did you eat anything yesterday?" He pushed.

"I'm sure I did…. I can't rem….member. but I must….have." she coughed out.

"Well we have some food for you. But that cough is horrible. I have some medicine in my truck, I go get it and then you can eat." He put his hands under Sissy's chin and spoke quietly, "I'll be right back, just keep an eye on her please." She nodded and he left out the front.

Sissy looked around the two rooms. A lifetime tapestry woven from letters, cards and knickknacks. She never had paused to reflect on the lives that passed in her existence. Each had its own hopes and dreams, some were long while others were cut short.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing." Her voice came again, this time directed at Sissy.

"So they tell me." Sissy replied with an uncomfortable smile.

"Are you Michael's girl?" The uncomfortable prying continued.

"I don't know. I think I'm trying to be, maybe." Sissy answered, with surprising honesty. "In truth, I'm not sure if he wants me." Maybe it was easy to confide in her because with her age she wouldn't hold her secrets long. Or maybe it was just that it felt good being honest for once. Sissy had built her existence on telling lies.

"My word," Agnes piped, "how could he not sweety, look at you."

"I don't think Mike is the kind of guy that worries about looks." Sissy said with a sad chuckle, "and that's all I really have."

"What's that?" Asked Mike as hebentered the room.

"Your silly girl here thinks all she has going is her looks." Tattled Agnes, to which Sissy gave her a stern look.

Mike took her chin in his hand and looked in her eyes, this for some reason seemed to affect the strength in her knees, strangely enough. "Sissy, you are so much more than your looks. There is a beautiful soul in there, I know it."

He then immediately turned to sit on the edge of the bed to open the medicine, leaving Sissy to mutter quietly, "no Mike, there really isn't, believe me."

Mike gave Agnes a healthy dose and opened the container to spoon feed her by hand.

"I can feed myself, Michael." She half heartedly complained.

"How am I to come to your rescue it you don't let me?" He replied.

By the time Agenes was full her cough had become much more infrequent.

He closed the container and Sissy took it from him. "I'll put this away." She smiled at him, before turning and walking to the kitchen half of the other room. Inside the fridge was so bare it would have been less sad if it had been empty. She put the leftovers inside and closed the door. She heard the conversation before she reached the room.

"No Agnes, you're sick, you need to stay in bed." Mike was saying.

As Sissy entered the room Agnes pointed up at her and said, "not with me, silly boy. With her."

"I'm sorry, what?" She asked, confused.

"Agnes wants us to dance." Sighed Mike. "You don't have to."

Agnes had a pleading look on her face. "Oh, but we have no music," said Sissy.

It was Agnes' turn to smile, "but I do." She said pulling out a music box.

"I guess we dance," Sissy said, biting her lower lip and holding out a hand to Mike.

He took her hand and stood up, "I guess we do."

Agnes wound the box tight and released the spring. A tinkling melody poured out of the box. "It's a waltz." Said Mike. "Do you waltz?"

"Do you?" She countered.

He parried with, "Agnes taught me."

Sissy sprouted a big smile and held her arm out for Mike to grasp and put her hand on his shoulder. He placed his on her waist and they were off. It had been so long since Sissy needed to waltz to accomplish her goals. She moved around Mike gracefully, although he was a little bit clunky, Agnes taught him well. Agnes watched mesmerized, as she hoped this would help him romance Sissy, but she had not seen someone move with such beauty as her since Agnes was a little girl. It was having the opposite effect. Mike couldn't take his eyes away from Sissy. She glowed, she sparkled and moved like she was the music. She seemed absolutely magical, from her grace to her beauty, he couldn't believe she could be real. She was a dream or a fantasy, his heart couldn't reconcile her and a living breathing girl. When the music ended they kept going for at least a minute before they realized it stopped. Agnes smiled so big she shed tears down her cheeks.

"That is your prettiest smile yet." Whispered Mike as he continued to be lost in her eyes.

"What smile?" She asked, trapped in his eyes as well. But at his question she looked away to the vanity in Agnes' bedroom and saw it again. That strange smile she didn't know, never practiced and never planned. This time she didn't banish it away, instead looking back to him. She rode it out, it was obviously more effective than any from her arsenal, and he liked it more. And so did she, it made her feel happy and warm. Or was it how she felt that made the smile? Was she looking at it backward? Her smile faltered in her confusion and the spell was broken.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Oh, I'm fine, just tired I think." She smiled weakly.

"Thank you," cried Agnes, " I have not seen anything so beautiful since I was very young." She took his hand and placed it in Sissy's. "You hold on to her Michael, I mean it. I have not seen so strong a love in a long, long time."

"I plan to," said Mike as he looked into her eyes, but she looked away. She feigned embarrassment but what was surging through Sissy was fear.

The sun was beginning its dive toward sunset as they drove back to the part of the city where Mike's apartment resided. Sissy was quiet, staring out the window. It wasn't possible, she thought. It couldn't be love. She made people fall for her for sure, but desire, attraction, even lust, especially lust, but not actual love. And it wasn't just him, she wasn't supposed to even be able to feel love, not anymore. Not real, actual… warm, honest, sincere, true…love. It had to be something else.

"Hey," he said, breaking the silence, "we have one more stop to make. Is that alright?"

She gave an awkward smile and nodded.

"Thanks, it's going to be business, not as fun as waltzing in a bedroom, but it needs to be done." He patted her knee and her stomach fluttered so much it made her ill. "I'm doing free repairs on a low rent apartment complex as a charity service and I have to meet with the owner. Just a courtesy."

The office building was dark except for two sets of windows on the fourth floor. The lobby was cold and poorly lit on the way to the elevators. Sissy had a bad feeling from this place. On the fourth floor, they were greeted by a receptionist that Sissy sure was hired for more after hours duties than business hours. She should know, she'd played that part before too. She buzzed them in, smiling at Mike in a way that made Sissy want to rip her throat out.

The man behind the desk oozed greed. He stank of it. Say what you will about the evils of lust, lust could at least be appealing. The stench of greed was always nauseating.

"Mister Mason, and guest I see." As the gravely baritone voice welcomed them, she could already feel his attention on her, drinking her in. This usually fed her needs, but right now Sissy just wanted to hide behind Mike.

"Mr. Danfield, the city has given my organization the authorization to move ahead with our project at your property at Greenway place."

"I'm not sure how this is supposed to work out Mr. Mason. My property is up to code and I have the inspection notes for the past five years to prove it." The man said with an indignant tone.

"Mr. Danfield, I don't understand your hesitancy, these renovations are at no cost to you, and they will only increase the value of your property when they are finished." Mike was getting upset. After his cold responses to all her advances, She was finding this passionate Mike all the more appealing.

"My apologies Mr Mason, but my building inspector tells me there is nothing wrong with the building." The smirk on his face was enough to tell Sissy that his favorable report was due to the right amount of money to his inspector.

Mike dropped a stack of papers on his desk, "these complaints from the tenants say different, but besides their opinions when my inspector goes through the building we will have a definitive idea of just what needs to be done." Sissy smiled the smile of a mom whose son just scored the big goal.

"I told you Mr Mason, I have my own inspector…" Danfield began.

"The city wants an independent assessment. I'll be talking to them tomorrow and setting up the date for the inspection. This was a courtesy meeting Mr Danfield, things will be proceeding no matter what you feel." He turned sharply and took Sissy's hand "good day Mr Danfield!" And stode out with Sissy in tow.

As the elevator doors closed Sissy found herself breathing heavily.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Mike said to her.

"Are you kidding Mike? That was so hot. You positively have me squirming. I loved the passion you showed there." She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed herself against him. Then she remembered his issues with 'intimacy' and stepped back. "Sorry, I know that bothers you."

Mike smiled at her, "It's alright Sissy, I didn't mind that." He looked back at the descending numbers and his smile widened. "Was it really hot?"

Sissy's smile widened as well, "are you kidding? It's taking all my will right now not to rip all your clothes off."

Danfield sat at his desk furious, when the door to hisboffice opened again. "Our Mr Mason can cause us great trouble if his inspector finds our operation in the basement." He sighed and rubbed at his eyes as if weighing his options before he spoke again, "make sure he cannot make that call to the inspector tomorrow."

The large man turned with a nod and left the room again.

Sissy was positively giddy on the ride back to the apartment. His behavior at the meeting was proof he could not only feel passion, but deeply. She kept stealing glances at him the whole trip and smiling, once or twice outright giggling. She realized when they finally entered the parking structure her fear was gone. She had just been so happy to see Mike like that she hadn't been worrying about the weird changes she had been experiencing. Was it because she wasn't concerned now with what she had to do? Because she was just enjoying being with him, not trying to ensnare him? There was no guilt, no dread. If she could just exist like this forever, and not worry about that, now unsavory to her, act she had to perform. If only that were the case.

They were both still smiling and laughing so much when he unlocked his front door Sissy was inspired to jibe him just a little further. She held up her arms and said "don't you want to carry me across the threshold?" Mike's face looked like a deer in headlights at this, "I'm sorry Mike," she backpedaled, "I was just joking."

Suddenly the corners of his mouth turned up again and he snatched her off her feet, walking through the door and to the couch to ultimately flop down with her on his lap. "Like that?"

She looked into his eyes and gently touched his cheek as the sky outside the glass wall of the patio lit up and thunder rolled "just like that." She let out a deep sigh, "well I guess this date is over." Still looking into his eyes. "Do I just leave, or do you take me somewhere? Like the coffee shop?"

"You don't have to go." He said, "I'm not kicking you out. You can stay as long as you like Sissy. Besides, we're not done." He moved her off his lap to the couch next to him.

"What is left in our deal?" She asked. "I spent the day with you helping people and now its done."

"Closure," he said. "Did you enjoy it?"

She thought back on the day, talking with the people at the mission, dancing in Agnes' Bedroom, seeing Mike passionate, powerful and manly in the office of that sleazeball. "Yes, yes I did."

"Then that could be your everyday. What is stopping you?"

That question brought back down the hammer of reality on her existence. "Mike," she said, sadness coating her words, "I can't. There are things I just have to do. My life literally depends on it. And these things don't mesh with this nice girl you want me to be. Even if… I want to be her too." Her eyes were tearing up at this point. "Beautiful as this has been, it has to end tonight." Sissy stood up but Mike retained hold on her hand.

"You don't have to leave tonight. I mean it's going to rain any second, you can sleep one more night here and this can end tomorrow instead." She could see the sadness in his eyes, she felt his heart breaking, even though she could not be this girl he fell for.

"Alright" she said, "but only if you lie with me and hold me all night." She pulled him in the direction of the master bedroom but he hesitated.

"I…I don't go in there." He said, the fear visible in his eyes. "I had all her stuff removed, but…but it still feels like her."

Sissy sat back down, curious as to what she did, and furious that someone would hurt him. "What did she do mike?" He was silent and seemed to refuse to look at her. "It's ok, if you don't want to talk about it."

"She was an heiress." He said finally speaking up. "After my mom died my father tried to repeat their story. But the first one was a mess. She kind of looked like my mom but was nothing like her. When he realized his mistake he began the divorce immediately. And met number two. She was from a rich family but they had cut her off. Apparently her party lifestyle brought too much embarrassment and cost them too much. So she was desperate for money and played my father like a fiddle, pretending to be everything my mom was. But he wasnstupid either. He put her in an ironclad prenup. So to make sure she got everything she wanted she needed an heir from her loins. But turns out I was a bit of a miracle. My dad was practically sterile and couldn't give her a baby. So she came up with a master plan. She brought me here one night while my father was on a business trip. She said it would be a fun weekend, just us two. I was fifteen and she was only eight years older than me. I was beginning to notice girls but she was my step-mom and I had no interest when she started trying to 'make me a man'. So she doped me. She still had some party drugs stashed here and slipped me one." Mike breathed in deep and exhaled, Sissy knew where this was headed and despite things she had done that were arguably worse, this sickened her. Teenage boys had no resistance to lust, so she didn't prey on them, and Mike wasn't even interested then, as a teenage boy. It was despicable. "So she kept me doped for two days. Conscious but unable to move. I felt everything though, she used my hormonal reactions to make sure we…copulated, I guess is the best term, as much as we could in those two days. She needed an heir and this way a paternity test would hit spot on. When my father came back I told him. He was furious, I had never seen him strike a woman but he did her at least twice. He had her arrested and divorced her, leaving her nothing. He also was golf buddies with the DA, she got the maximum, in fact she's still in prison. My father makes sure her parole hearings are impossible fights."

"Thankfully she didn't get a baby from that" said Sissy, shocked at this tale.

"She did get pregnant." Said Mike softly. "But she lost it the first couple months in prison."

"Oh, Mike," weeped Sissy, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm so sorry for every pass I made at you."

"It's ok, Sissy," he said, hugging her back, "I'm touched you wanted to. I'm sorry if made you feel that I wasn't tempted. Believe me I was."

She broke the hug smiling and wiping the tears away. She took his hand and asked, "do you trust me?"

"I do," he said, cautiously.

"Good, then let me help you take that room back from that bitch." He let her pull him up from the couch, and they walked to the room. He was nervous but she smiled that new smile she never practiced at him, "trust me, you're just going to hold me all night. I promise, no tricks, no seductions."

A before they made it to the door the lights went out in the apartment.

"Must be the storm." Said Mike, "just let me check the hall."

When Mike opened the door, the gun was the first thing he saw. The big man silhouetted in the light from the hall removed his hat. Sissy could smell the wrath pouring off the man. This was a killer. Murder soaked his soul. When he spoke it was in a charming tone, "my apologies, but you represent a large problem to my employer." He looked at Sissy, "I'm just sorry such a lovely dame, such as yourself, had to be wrapped up in this unpleasantness."

Sissy didn't fear this man, she could deal with him before he could blink, but the gun was pointed at Mike, and she wouldn't risk him.

The brute waved the gun, "now we will be taking a short stroll to that lovely balcony of yours."

Mike nodded and walked to the patio doors, he wrapped his arms around Sissy and kept himself between her and the hitman. The idiot was protecting her, her idiot. Her Mike. It was undeniable to herself how she felt about him. She didn't want to lose him. She would have to do something.

As they exited to the outside Mike was still trying to save her, "you don't have to involve her," he began, "she just a party girl, she wouldn't say a word to anyone that might get her in trouble. You can let her go and just deal with me."

"Sorry, but no." Was his reply, "I regret her involvement, but I have standards as a professional. Now, up against the railing please."

"Please don't hurt him." Sissy found herself pleading. She tried to get around him to face the man but Mike continued to keep himself between her and the gun. He was willing to die to protect her, her who he had just met yesterday. "Please, Mike is no threat to anyone. You must have the wrong guy."

The assailant shoved Mike against the rail. "Believe me I have the right guy." He confirmed.

"Please," she pulled out her biggest gun. "I can do things for you that you couldn't imagine." She poured on the heat of her look. She smoldered with intensity, she driped sex, and her pheromones drifted out with all her might. "Anything you desire, just please don't hurt him."

She smelled his arousal, hell she could smell Mike's as a collateral effect from his proximity. She knew Mike must be getting uncomfortable with how much she was pushing it. But she had his gaze, and he was practically drooling.

"Woah, she is something else," he said off-handed to Mike, "I will definitely have to have fun with you after…"

This last statement made Mike furious, he lunged at the larger man. As Mike grabbed at the man it broke the hold she had on his lust. His wrath flared again, "but business before pleasure." And he shoved Mike with all his might, sending him toppling over the railing.

"Mike!" Sissy screamed as she lashed out with her hands grabbing his ankle. But the weight of the falling Mike pulled her over as well.

"Damn, a waste of a fine piece of ass," casually remarked the brute.

As the ground rushed up at them, Sissy crawled over Mike to get next to his face. "Mike grab on to me!" He was confused. What good would that do? "Hold on to me tight, please!" Mike wrapped his arms around her, satisfied that at least he would die with her in his arms.

As the ground approached Sissy's body was wreathed in flames. The appearance he had known burned away and two large wings unfolded behind her. Mike gripped tighter as the sudden jerk of deceleration shook his body violently. Mike was forced to close his eyes as the whip of a sudden turn compressed his insides painfully. He wasn't aware of where he was now till they hit the ground and rolled to a stop. Mike scrambled to his feet as he watched the wings fold as she stood, and could see her in her entirety at last.

She stood on silver cloven hooves that were poking out of red silky hairs to her mid-calf. Her skin was deathly pale, almost white and her fingers ended in black talons. The bat-like wings sprouted from her hips like she had another set of shoulder blades for them. Long blood red hair hung over her naked breasts from her head, which now has two small horns poking out of the hairline above her forehead. Her lips were blood red and he could see her elongated canines in her mouth. Her eyes were red around the pupils and seemed to glow with their own light. But aside from the new inhuman features, her face, her body were both still undeniably Sissy.

His eyes were wide as he looked at her, speechless and frozen. "Mike," she began, as tears streamed down her face, "Mike, I… I'm sorry."

The wings once more whipped open, and in one powerful downward thrust, rocketed her once again into the sky. The rushing air peeled the tears from her cheeks and slowly as she streaked back up the building, her crying was replaced with a scream of rage.

The thug looked over the edge and to his surprise did not see bodies laying on the sidewalk. He wondered where they could have landed for a moment, but gave up. No one could have survived the fall. He turned to walk back to the elevator. He made it only half a dozen steps when something wrapped around his neck, white hot and searing the flesh of his throat. Suddenly he was violently jerked back, slamming into the railing. The demonic visage perched on the railing looked down, keeping the flaming whip pulled taught around his neck.

"You!" It screamed, "you ruined everything! EVERYTHING!" It pulled him to his feet by the whip, and continued till he was face to face with it, tips of his toes barely touching the concrete. His eyes were wide in fear, and he gasped and croaked trying in vain to speak with his throat constricted. It eyed him maliciously, "my stock and trade is usually the sin of lust. But maybe just this once, I should see if the sin of wrath will do."

Once more with a powerful beat of wings, she shot into the sky, hauling the brute up with her by the whip. As they pierced the clouds the rain began to fall in buckets.

Mike ran out onto the patio as the rain hammered down. He looked about with no sign of her or the goon. He ran to the railing and scanned the lightning streaked sky and shouted, "SISSY!" Again and again, till his voice gave out, "SISSY!"

The goon's body lay crumpled in a barely human heap in an alley far across the city. The woman walked up to it with her trench coat collar pulled up against the storm. Her red hair fell out of it in front as she squatted down to examine the body. She ran her fingers along the burn wound on his neck in lines like coiled wire. Then she stood and scanned the sky.

Far away from both the alley and the apartment, on top of a gothic church, she sat. Face buried in her arms that sat on her knees, and wept. She wept hot tears pouring from a broken heart, that steamed when they hit the metal dome of the roof, never stopping even in the rain.

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The Date

By Atomicsaurian