He spoke of transformation. He spoke about the freedom contained in anonymity. He spoke of the pleasure in keeping secrets. He spoke of dreams.
His touch was so gentle, like a caress…She drifted off to sleep…
When Betty woke up it seemed like moments since she dozed off, but it was actually two hours later. She reached up to rub the sleep from her eyes.
Beznik stopped her. "Don't! You’ll ruin your make up."
Betty stopped and asked "What? Are we done?"
Beznik beamed with pride. "See for yourself."
He spun her in the red chair to face the mirror. She leaned in and said. "I'm gone…"
Someone new took her place. Betty saw the face of a gorgeous stranger looking back at her. The woman was exotic. She had almond shaped eyes that peaked out from behind thick, black hair. It was long and poured over her shoulders and down her back. Her face was now oval. Her nose turned up slightly, over full lips. She looked just like a model from a French art magazine. The transformation was so dramatic. She loved it.
It seemed impossible that the reflection was really her. The new disguise masked any hint of the innocence her old face conveyed. The stranger smiled with an alluring, mischievous grin. This woman knew things good girls didn’t. She was an object to be desired. She radiated the confidence of experience. Her eyes contained secrets. This mysterious woman would draw men in. They would do anything for her, and she could destroy them.
A hot flash ran through her and something moist happened between her legs and she tightened her thighs.
"This, this is amazing!" She squealed.
She went to touch her face again, but stopped herself. "Can I touch my face?"
He laughed. "Of course you can my darling. I just stopped you from rubbing and ruining your eye make up. I spent a lot of time on them since you know they are the windows to the soul."
He was right, Betty looked deeply into the eyes of the stranger but saw herself in them. Then her fingers gently probed her new cheeks. It felt so real. They were warm but dead to the touch, like her new face was numb. Her transformation was so complete it seemed like magic.
Betty said. "This is incredible. How far can you take this?"
He replied. "As far as you want to go. With a costume change and by adding body forms, I can make you look like anyone."
Mesmerized at the thought she said. "Golly…I want to learn more. Will you teach me?"
The Gypsy responded. "Of course, of course, if you have the money, I’ll make the time to transform you. Just call me and let me know when."
Betty was more eager then he expected. "Maybe we should set standing appointments a few times a week?"
He chuckled. "Like I said before, I go where the money takes me. For the right price we can make standing appointments, and I promise my store will always be open for you.”
He was in it for the transformation, the cash and the praise. He got all of them. Beznik was a master showman. He knew how to wow an audience and leave them wanting more. He asked. "Do you want to go home like this?"
She though for moment then said. "No you'd better change me back so I can return to my real life.”
He stripped off her mask and Betty returned to the world outside the magical, costume shop.
Betty added a few more steps in her weekly routine. Somehow she managed to juggle them all. She alternated days between her fighting and disguise lessons. Betty was enthralled as a student of the Gypsy. Each session he made her into someone else. She was patient and methodical in her collection of information. She asked precise questions and talked little. She watched, listened and absorbed as he performed.
The Gypsy said. "You will discover that people aren't very observant. Transformation is the art of illusion and manipulation. You are whomever you can make others believe you are."
Betty said. "It sounds like lying."
He responded. "Of course it is. Everyone lies. It’s how we survive in the Citadel.”
She already knew it to be true.
One night, under the Gypsy’s tutelage, Betty recreated her first disguise. She became the mysterious woman with long black hair again. Then headed out to infiltrate Razzles.
She was dressed exquisitely. She wore a tight black dress and bright red lips. As she arrived she was quickly ushered into the nightclub. In a strange way she’d missed the place. She loved the music the band played. The crowd laughed and the girls worked their magic on the wealthy clients. She took a strange comfort in knowing some things never changed. She glided through the well dressed crowd that filled round tables. There were so many familiar faces, and she held so many of their secretes. She could exploit them all now if she chose, because no on knew who she was. There would be no repercussions.