Rumpled Between The Sheets (4 page)

The last words
hit her the most.

Trust
no one, Mary.

She stuffed the
letter back in the envelope and tossed it on the cutting table. The shop wasn't
too dirty. All it needed a lot of TLC and elbow grease. Mary rolled up her
sleeves and dove right in. Halfway through, she unearthed a radio. She flicked
it on and was serenaded by Ted Nugent. She spun the dress form around and
skipped across the clean floor with her dancing partner.

All the dusting
and washing made the back room sparkle like diamonds. The warmth radiated from
every corner. As she spun, the wall behind the rack glowed and shimmered.
Skipping away from her dancing partner, she shoved the rack out of the way. The
vanishing room appeared and the dust that graced the loom lay no more. Panting
from her two-step, she entered the room. The radio turned on, blasting music
reminiscent of the 1940s. In the corner, the pile of gold glittered and
something else stood beside it. She hadn't seen one of them beyond pictures in
her favorite fairytale
Sleep Beauty
.
A spinning wheel.
She stepped over and glided her hand over
the smooth wood. Skirting around it, she sat on the chair. The spinning wheel
shimmered.

She scooped up
some of the gold. Her feet rested comfortably on the two pedals. She touched
the flyer orifice and the drive wheel flared to life. A thin piece of gold
thread poked out of the orifice and she brushed the gold in her hand to it. The
pedals came to life under her feet and she kept the rhythm going. She gasped as
the gold in her hands thinned and stretched. The bobbin between the
flyer
filled with the glittering thread. As the gold in her
hand lessened, she grabbed more off the floor.

Energy thrummed
through her fingers. She felt alive in the small room. Before long, she had ten
bobbins full of thread. The pile of gold hardly diminished. Bells, reminiscent
of wind chimes, gonged in the small room. Mary blinked from her work and
noticed the opening fading with every crescendo of the bells. She bolted from
her seat and dove through as the wall shimmered whole again. Glancing at her
watch, her eyes widened at the time.
Five in the evening.
She'd spent a good amount of the day in that small room.

Getting back on
her feet, she decided that quitting for the day wasn't an option. The workspace
was spotless and just itching for her to take over. With so many textiles to
choose from, she could whip up an outfit quick for a night on the town. A satin
royal blue called out to her and she heaved the bolt onto the cutting table.

Her fingers ran
over the silky fabric. Laughter burst from her lips before she sifted a happy
sob. "I get it now, Mom." She blew a big breath out, her heart
content more than she'd imagined it could be. The whole time in New York she'd
been obsessed about the spotlight of a stage and a man by her side. Why
couldn't she shine just as bright in a small corner of the world? It worked for
her mom.

She'd found her
calling and wasn't going to stop for anyone, not even the naysayers in her own
town.

Chapter Three

Spring 1978

"Okay, turn
to the left, Cindy." Mary, down on her knees, pinned the hem of the dress
as her client turned.

"Oh, my
goodness, Miss
Becken
.
I love the
embroidery. Carnations are my favorite flower."

Mary smiled up
at Cindy as she ran her fingers over the stitching. The rich green dress
contrasted nicely with the gold inlays. "Your mother popped in and told
me."

"When I
marry Gary Wells, you are totally making my wedding dress."

"Shimmy out
of this one, honey, and I'll have it ready by tomorrow." Mary pinned the
last of the hem and stood.

The past six
months had gone by in a whirl. She'd made the store front more to her style,
repurposing a few mannequins to be her centerpiece in the big display window.
Between the loom and spinning wheel, she'd fashioned a sparkling gold fabric
and made a red carpet ready gown as a show piece. The price on it kept clients
from buying the masterpiece and her talent shined through each delicate stitch.
The other outfit was more Beowulf Hollow appropriate. A pair of denim bell
bottoms with gold piping along the sides and a top with flowing, billowy
sleeves. She had added some small accents to the collar and cuffs. The
popularity of the set had made it necessary to have them ready to sell. Few
needed alterations to the rack-ready wear. Many of the mothers had slipped her
the sizes of most of the girls in town,
not that Mary
wouldn't tailor something if the need arose
.

She kept the
shop open four days a week, leaving Saturdays for fittings only. During the
other days, she sequestered herself in the private room in the back. The time
table to enter the secret back room was from when the sun peaked in the sky
until sundown. She budgeted her time on spindling the gold and creating the
fabrics. Her stockpile never showed signs of lessening. Still, she decided that
she could do without true gold accents. Her customers already thought it was
regular thread.

"Thank you,
Miss
Becken
!" Cindy waved and let herself out.
Retrieving the dress, Mary headed to the back to finish the product. No more
fittings were scheduled for the day. She patted the brand new sewing machine
she’d invested in after the business took off. Her mother's old pedal-powered Singer
was great for those times she wanted to experiment, however the newer model
gave her the speed she needed. As she positioned the foot down on the fabric,
she heard the bell go off on the front door.

"Shoot."
In her rush to finish her work for the day, she had forgotten to lock the door.
She hurried to the front. "I'm sorry but I'm not open for the day."
She slowed when she didn't recognize the woman standing near the counter. Mary
admired the outfit she sported though. Red with black piping, it matched the
ruby-red lipstick on her lips. The pants reversed the pattern with red piping
instead of black and flared at the bottom to accommodate the platform shoes.

"Are you
Mary
Becken
?"

"Yes. And
you are?" She extended her hand and the woman took it.

"Ginger
Govern." She glanced around, grinning from ear to ear.

Mary shifted her
weight, fiddling with the measuring tape around her neck. The woman seemed to
be window-shopping from the inside of the store. "Is there something I can
help you with? I'm not normally open today, except for fittings."

"Oh! I
apologize." She reached in her clutch purse and pulled out a folded piece
of paper. "I represent Press Week."

"Press
Week?"

"Yes, the
fashion show held in New York each year. We're looking for new designers with a
fresh look." She glanced around again. "And we've chosen you."

"What?"
Mary's jaw dropped.
"Why…how?"
She blinked.
"What?"

"It's all
in here." She tapped the paper. "I'll be in that little hotel, well
the only hotel in this town, until the end of the week." She fished a
business card out of her purse. "Vogue magazine has really started
promoting American designers and we want a good showing. Thanks for your
time." She whirled around and left.

Mary ran to the
door and locked it. She slid down the door in a panic. New York? Press Week?
How had anyone found out about her business in little old Beowulf Hollow?

"Vivian."
She hands covered her mouth. How was she ever going to compete with the likes
of the big designers? Panic welled up before she shoved the fear back down. A
big grin plastered on her face, she sprinted to the back and checked her fabric
supply. She had a few months to make whatever she wanted. Smacking her
forehead, she collected the document the lady had left. It gave her all the
details and a voucher for a plane ticket.

"Thank you,
Vivian." Her dream of New York was back in her clutches if she could come
up with a worthy collection. She thought about the dress in her window and
shook her head. That was never to be worn.
Her one showpiece
and nothing more.
The quietness of the shop accented the pounding of her
heart. Was New York really her reach for the stars moment or had her mother's
parting gift given her all Mary could ever want? What could it hurt to give the
Big Apple one more shot? Beowulf Hollow would always be there when she
returned.

"Looks like you and me have
a ton of work to do." She leaned on her favorite dress form, her
unfinished blue dress still hanging off of it. "But I think you're just a
little too big in the middle." She giggled and threw the papers up in the
air. "I'm going to New York!"

Chapter Four

Benjamin paced
his workroom floor. Several women were bent over sewing machines stitching his
latest creations together. He stopped near one and scowled. "No.
Stop."
He kicked the pedal away from her foot.
"You've made the whole thing uneven.
Unacceptable."

"I'm sorry,
Mr.
Elstiltzkin
."

"Do you
know how much that fabric cost? It's ruined because of your incompetence."
He threw his hands up before pointing to the woman in the doorway. "What
did I tell you about wearing that hideous outfit in here?"

His assistant
for more years than he'd cared to admit wore a red suit with black pinstripes.
The pants were the exact opposite, making her appear like some sort of succubus
in league with the devil. Her red lipstick did nothing to make that assumption
vanish

"It's one
of your designs." She adjusted her glasses and strode toward him.

"One that I
threw in the garbage, Miss Govern."
He pinched his brow. Her outfit
wasn't the only one he'd pitched in the trash. Every design he'd created had
been more horrid than the last. His reputation would nose dive if he didn't
pull something spectacular together soon. "Please tell me that the bolts
of fabric I asked you to order are here?"

"Yes."
Ginger handed him a piece of paper from her clipboard. "I have a bit of
other news that might interest you as well."

"I doubt it."
He paced the room, studying the order, and she followed on his heels.

"I got good
word from a reliable source that some up and coming designer has been invited to
Press Week." Her platform stilettos clicked behind him. At least she'd not
worn those hideous platform shoes she was fond of. A woman should never wear
such clunky shoes in his opinion.

He laughed and
turned. "What makes them think that will intimidate me?" He tucked
the paper into his inside jacket pocket.
"A
nobody?"
He snorted. "Hardly worth my time to even consider
this person a threat." Benjamin's hands balled into fists to control the
nervous tick winding its way down his arms. If this new designer had been
invited, someone was plotting the last dagger in his tumbling career. He’d
worked too hard to be upstaged.

She shuffled
through some of the papers on her clipboard and handed him some photos.
"This is what she's got in her front window."

He snatched it
from her hand. The picture showed a floor length gown made from some draped gold
cloth. "Amateurish, don't you think?" He scoffed. He faced away from
his assistant while he clenched his jaw. That dress was far from amateur in design.
He hadn't created something that innovative in some time. Whispers in the
community had grown from a soft murmur to a loud chattering that he'd lost his
edge. Throwing some small town bumpkin into the mix was an obvious ploy to have
the king of fashion week fall to some unknown seamstress. He had to remain
composed lest one of his workers add to the rumor whisper mill. Enough of that
happened in the town he grew up in.

"Where is
she from?"

"Beowulf
Hollow."

"Hmmm."
Could it be? A
sly grin spread on his face. "You're in charge of the fittings later
today. I have an appointment I have to get to."

"Yes, sir."

"And fire
her." He pointed to the woman he'd berated earlier. "I don't have
time for incompetent workers. Do a better job of hiring." He stormed out,
his mind set on a little minx in a small town. She had to be put in her place.
No one upstaged Benjamin
Elstiltzkin
.

In the hallway
alone, he peered at the photo again before he crumpled it in his hand. It
reflected back his lack of originality over the past year. The dress was
stunning and beyond compare. Still, he’d worked too hard to lose his prestige
and needed to find a way to squash his critics—and competition—for good.

****

Mary’s shop was
beyond her capabilities to keep up with the demand. In the short week since Ginger
handed her an invitation to her for Press Week, word had spread all across
Beowulf Hollow. Residents who didn't give her shop the bat of an eye raided the
racks for her latest creations. Mary feared she wouldn't be able to keep up
with the growing list of special orders. The thought of hiring someone, though
a few of the girls from the high school volunteered, was out of the question.
She couldn't trust her secrets with anyone. Sleep just wasn't a luxury she would
have until the fervor died down. Her only saving grace was that no girl was
seeking out a prom dress. The season had thankfully passed.

Betsy came to
the counter with one of the more conservative dresses. "This would be
perfect for the City Hall soirée, don't you think?"

"It would look
absolutely lovely on you. I actually designed it with you in mind. You always
looked stunning in these just below the knee dresses." Mary didn't lie.
She always admired how shapely Betsy's legs were and loved when she showed them
off.

"I'll take
it!" She took out a twenty dollar bill out. "I'm so glad you took
over your mother's shop."

"Me
too."
Mary folded the dress up and placed it in a box, tying it off with a string.
"Have a good day." She pulled a stool over and sat down heavily. Her
feet couldn't stand for much longer. A few more purchases later and the
customer traffic thinned a bit. As she grabbed a quick bite of a sandwich Janis
delivered from the diner—at no charge and with a smile no less!—she watched as
a tall, dark, and handsome man walked through her door.

He was something
out of her fantasy dreams. She swallowed slow, admiring how his jacket hugged
every luscious curve of his chest.
Heaven in a gray suit.
The way he prowled toward her made her very glad she was on a stool. Her knees
couldn't handle the predatory gaze in his eyes. He leaned on the counter,
giving her a full view of his gray eyes.

"Mary
Becken
?"

"Yes."
Her words were barely above a whisper as her breath left her. His voice
increased the heat between her thighs. Would he bend down and kiss her, his
soft but demanding hand around the nape of her neck? She hadn't felt so
sexually charged in a long time. She shook the fantasies out of her head. She
wasn't in some New York City bar nor did she want a man complicating her life.
No matter how much she wanted to lick every inch of his flesh.

"My name is
Benjamin
Elstiltzkin
."

Her jaw dropped.
She might be knee-deep in the boondocks now but she knew that name. She'd spent
countless nights staring into the windows of the chic stores in Times Square filled
with his designs, and here he was, in her shop. His finger shut her gaping maw
and a sigh almost escaped her lips.

Pull
it together! He's competition now.

"It's a
pleasure to meet you. I guess we're going to be up against each other at Press
Week." While she meant the fashion show, her body hummed a different tune.

He cracked a
smile before laughing at her. It was like a deluge of cold water knocking her
off her feet.

"Don't kid
yourself, sweetheart. You're hardly competition." He waved his hand around
her shop. "This might be good enough for your little quaint mountain town
but no New Yorker would be caught dead in such low brow threads." He
pinched her cheek. "Best you just stay at home to save yourself the
humiliation."

Doubt crept into
her veins and her words faltered. His talent was miles away from hers. He was
right. How could she possibly compete? A slight quiver started in her
fingertips as she glanced around the shop at her meager offerings.
Hardly runway material.
Yet who was he to tell her she
couldn't reach for her latest dream? The stubbornness that aided her in fleeing
this small town surged within. Her fingers curled into her palms to curb the
shaking. No man was ever going to tell her she couldn't compete on their level.

Mary jerked away
from him. "You scared?"

"Hardly."

She rose from
her stool. "You should be, because I'm going to mop the floor with
you."

"Mop the
floor, eh?" Again Benjamin mocked her with laughter. "That's what
you're going to end up being when this is over.
My personal
maid."
He leaned in. "Maybe I'll make you something pretty to
wear in my mansion.
Pretty and very short."

"Get out of
my shop." She thrust her finger toward the door. He had the nerve to lay
his hand on her extended one and force it down to the counter. "I'm going to
enjoy humiliating you."

"Ditto."
Jerk.

He picked
something off a rack on his way out and dropped it on the floor. For a second
she saw a flash of appreciation before his cold steely exterior washed it away.
The few customers in the store, that didn't file out when he started the
charade quietly came up to the register and made their purchases without a
word. By tomorrow morning, everyone in town would know what happened. She
closed early and buried her face in her hands. How could she have challenged
someone of his caliber? What had come over her? Only the space between her legs
could account for her behavior.

"Ugh. I'm
like a cat in heat."

Mary had no
choice. In the morning, she'd prepare the fabrics she'd use for her collection
and post a sign that the shop would be closed for two weeks so she could sew.
That was the only thing she was sure of. That and a cold shower to strip any
remaining want for such an arrogant man.

"What have
I gotten myself into?"

****

The New York
skyline greeted Benjamin as he paced his apartment. A glass of bourbon in his
hand, he swirled the ice cubes around before taking a sip. His encounter with
Mary
Becken
had plagued him since he got back from
Beowulf Hollow a week ago. He’d expected to meet some long-nosed, facially
flawed mountain biddy, only to come face to face with a woman he wanted to
strip down and make love to all night long. Just the thought of bedding her
stiffened his cock. The fire in her eyes excited him. She was a prize he'd
dreamed of since his youth and never thought he'd encounter.

Groaning, he
downed his drink and sank down on to the couch. In his head, she danced in
front of him in a skimpy maid's outfit, bending over to dust the corner of his
coffee table and giving him a generous view of her bare ass.

Benjamin unzipped
his pants and slid them off. Spreading the
precum
on
his dick to the shaft, he palmed the length. Mary's visible lips rolled down
the sides to the beat of his hands. His eyes closed and envisioned her sucking
and licking his cock. He'd command her movements by grasping her hair, ordering
her to take more of him in.

He groaned as he
jerked harder. She would straddle him, if only to allow him access to her rosy
areolas. Laid bare, he planned to suck on her breasts until she shuddered
against him. Her wet and willing pussy would be his to bury his cock deep in.
She'd ride him fast and furious, beauty shining in her flushed face as he made her
come again before he branded her his.

Warm semen sprayed
his legs as he came hard. After a few more tugs, the frustration of his cock
tease disappeared from his fantasy.

He had to make her his at all
costs.