Maybe... But you'd rather show off to Maya, wouldn't you?

You stand up, and look at yourself with a more critical eye. Most of what Maya had done was beyond you, but you examine your face with different lighting, and try a couple of different expressions to see how the makeup changes their look. You didn't really want to go through Maya's regimen again, and this was a valuable opportunity to see how your makeup was "meant" to work.

But... Well, you could do that after you came back, right? Or at least, while Maya wasn't just standing there watching.

"Okay, okay, you win," She you tell her, still smiling at the results, "Makeup is awesome. I don't have the time or money to do this every day, and it won't work when I'm getting all sweaty, but... Yeah, okay, I guess I can let you put a face on me every now and then. Just don't **** your privileges, okay?"

You knew she would, though. You meant "Dates and other special occasions", while she'd hear that as "Whenever it's Saturday". But now that it wasn't really a big sticking point between you, sowing the seeds for a bit of playfighting between you could still be fun.

"Oh, they make sweat-proof and oil-free makeup too, nowadays," Maya threw out, "The right stuff can even replace sunscreen, so there's even a benefit!"

...Really? See, this was the kind of thing that had kept you from listening to her for so long...

"You really think that tossing some sunscreen on my face after rubbing down my arms and legs is any less of a bother than this?" You tease her, arching an eyebrow... And watching her squirm a bit? That's new.

"Just throwing that out there..." Maya smiles, settling down "I mean, it was aim for the sports, or mention that goth has been coming back in style along with the demons."

"Maya, I keep telling you..." You remind her, "I'm kinda into punk, not goth. Totally different subcultures."

Well, mostly. Honestly, you found goth girls pretty hot, something the internet suggested was a pretty universal phenomenon. But the actual personalities of most goths you'd met were pretty trash, and the culture seemed to encourage that toxicity.

If you could find someone with the aesthetics, but without the baggage, you'd be pretty happy with that... Though even then, you weren't really interested in trying it yourself. Were you? ...It didn't really seem like you, but maybe you could experiment a bit - if nothing else, trying out the various techniques could be good practice.

"You weren't into makeup before, either!" Maya teases you, "For all I know, you just didn't want to bother with the super-pale thing, and that won't be a barrier anymore."

You elect not to answer that speculation, knowing that it would simply deepen her misconceptions. You were into empowerment and rebellion, not moping around being edgy!

Instead, you take a good, long look at the dress, the one that you'd hardly gotten an opportunity to see after Maya **** you into it. Honestly... It kind of sucked. Oh, it looked great on you, no doubt about that. You didn't think it emphasized your best features very well, but it did a good job of showing off the popular ones, and the back looked kind of cool. But... It just wasn't you, and it was annoying to move in.

If you were going to update your wardrobe (and there wasn't much reason not to, upon reflection), you'd rather have something that showed off your athleticism - something that set you apart in a good way. You're no gorilla; you have a nicely toned body that promises a night of energetic fun. This dress hid most of that away, and your breasts and butt... Well, they were nice, but they weren't going to keep up in a world of soul sales. Better to focus on your own niche, right?

...And as you study yourself in the mirror, you notice Maya studying you in turn. Probably admiring her handiwork, right? She'd finally gotten you dress up, and to not hate it.

Except... Then what was up with seductive succubus routine from before? All the weird intimacy during the makeup? The flirty compliments? You were probably more attractive right now than you'd been your entire life, and Maya... She was the target of heavy succubus influence. It hadn't been for long, but there would be lasting effects.

Maybe...

"This is pretty easy to wear too," You say something nice, as you try to talk yourself out of something stupid, "I had been pretty worried about how carefully I'd need to move, but... Everything is staying in place nicely, and somehow it's not too tight. It might be calling a bit too much attention to my breasts, but... Well, this is a date."

...Well, maybe... You don't have to do anything too blatant, right? Maya bought this dress because she thought it would look good on you, and her sexuality was being rebuilt so that it would look good to her. Maybe you could just... Sound her out a bit, see if that was true here?

"It doesn't make me look slutty though, does it?" You ask, turning towards her, "You'd tell me if it did, right?"

"Not at all," Maya replies, wearing a small smile, "Just like a woman dressed to impress."

A miss, then?

No, wait... You hadn't really given her anything to hook her interest, had you? Even if by some miracle she'd noticed your half-hidden flirting after years of overlooking your half-buried interest, that wasn't going to get a reaction. She might be a bit surprised by her own reaction, but she wasn't going to upend years of friendship over a fleeting impulse.

If you wanted to really see if Maya was just that fashion-obsessed, or if this was part of Ms. Devlin's work... You were going to have to go a bit further.

...Maybe it would be fine? If she was embarrassed, you could just... Write it off to exuberance over the makeover. Or something. Just this much should be fine, right?

And so... You lean further, giving her a good look at your chest. The dress was a bit clingy, but that was great for something like this, keeping your breasts firmly in place while giving Maya a good eyeful.

"What about now, then?" You ask, "I mean, I'm going to need to move around a bit, probably... I still don't look too slutty when I'm like this, right?"

And Maya gives you a good, long look in return... Was that interest, then? Was she appreciating the view?

"Nah, you should be fine," She answers, with a shake of her head, "I mean, it'll be a problem if you stay in that position, obviously, but you're not flashing too much if you just need to reach for something."

A miss, then.

...Really? No, you were basically flashing her there, right? And she just... Stared, instead of asking you to stand up. Maya wasn't an idiot, so that couldn't have just been her thinking about an answer, right?

Maybe that was just her covering up what she was doing, then? A polite excuse because she didn't want to make you uncomfortable?

You sigh, as you realize that the only way to untangle this would be to try again.

"And this dress, it doesn't make my butt look too big, right?" You ask, turning back around, "I'm not used to wearing anything that emphasizes my curves quite so much."

No, wait, this was just the first question all over again, she wouldn't bite on just this much...

"Not at all," Maya immediately replies, "Taylor, you're more active than pretty much anyone not on our actual sports teams - if your butt is too big, then nobody could wear a dress like that!"

If you wanted this to work, you were going to have to escalate... Again.

"Really?" You ask, rolling your hips from side to side, "Nothing notable about it at all?"

...And see her expression change not one whit. Fuck.

Maybe she just wasn't a butt woman, but... More likely than not, all you'd been doing was making a fool of yourself. At best she thought you were grenade-fishing for compliments; at worst, blatantly flirting with someone in a precarious position while you were getting ready to date another woman.

Your face burns with shame.

"Not at all," Maya's delayed answer rubs salt in your self-inflicted wound, "You have a very nice looking butt, and Elizabeth will love it."

With a groan of humiliation, you try to dart for your phone in hopes that it would be close enough to Date Hour that you could run away from this stupid, stupid mistake conceptually and not just physically... But almost immediately trip over your stupid, stupid dress.

You just don't get it. If Maya didn't like your breasts, then why the hell had Miss Fashion Expert chosen a dress that emphasized your "assets" while both crippling you and burying everything that would make you stand out!?

"Ugh, damn it..." You curse, at least taking the opportunity to change the subject, "This dress might be pretty hot, but I'm really going to have to get something different for my next date. It really is next to impossible to walk in."

"But it looks so good on you!" Maya protests, "The nice, sleek design emphasizes all of your best features!"

...What, not being able to walk was sexy now? Were we going back to foot-binding next? No, don't go there, this would be the pockets argument all over again.

"I know I have pretty good legs too, Maya," You shake your head, "You may have been able to talk me into makeup and a wig, but you're not going to get me to ignore basic issues of functionality. I can't touch my face anymore? Fine, that's a minor matter. I can't walk? Sorry, but I'm going to look for a decent set of pants instead."

Well, honestly, you'd like to be able to touch your face as well; calling it minor felt wrong. But when you had your hands deep in filth, you couldn't touch your face regardless of whether you were wearing makeup or not - it was a habit you were at least used to, if not for the exact same reasons.

But that topic dies on your tongue as you hobble over to the phone and notice the time. It was 8:15, and a blind panic seizes your mind.

"Fuck!" You curse, the dire ramifications of this makeover striking you, "It's 8:15! Maya, I'm totally late! I'm never late!"

It was your first-ever date, with a woman who you felt like you could actually click with, and you'd managed to fuck it up before even leaving the door. Because you hadn't left the door, rather.

Despair fills your heart as you try to picture how to smooth this over with Elizabeth, who frankly already seemed a bit insecure. Begging for forgiveness didn't seem like it would go over well, but airily insisting that your own inability to schedule mattered more than her plans... You think she might like that, but you'd hate starting your relationship on those terms.

Just what...