Chapter 18: Snow Elves Get Set
A week after we got back, Jess came in from fetching the mail carrying a pair of engraved invitations from the Alexanders for their early Christmas party, one addressed to “Jess Jevgenijeva and Guest” and the other addressed to Kaitlyn and I.
We found a handwritten note below the invitation’s formal language: “On condition that you reprise your roles as body servants for select party attendees.”
On a line below the RSVP contact information was an ominous line: “No cameras of any kind will be allowed past the foyer.”
“What in the world does that mean?” I asked.
Kaitlyn said, “I saw those two tuxedoed guys at the party firmly but politely lowering cameras while we were doing the solarium massage. I even saw them stop a few shots from being taken during our faux wizard battle. The Alexanders must be trying to get ahead of it this time.”
“That’s a relief to me, but how about you, my little exhibitionist?” I asked her.
She looked thoughtful, then said, “I suppose I can take it either way. The WNBR aftermath gave me tools for coping if my old coworkers find pictures of us at the party, but this isn’t a public event. I’d rather this party be recorded only in the memories of its attendees, not be plastered all over social media.”
The line below that one on the invitation was also of interest: “Bring a gag gift for exchange, unlabeled.” It named a price comfortably within our starving student budget, which was a relief considering the caliber of people this party drew. We kicked around ideas for what we’d bring for a while.
With all of that settled, we RSVP’d by phone, Kaitlyn staying on the line the longest to set up the details of our services that night. “Uh, huh.” Pause. “Yeah, I thought so, too.” Pause. “How about twenty on and twenty off?” Pause. “Yeah, that’ll be a big help to us, thanks.” Pause. “Oh, really? That sounds great!” Pause. “Yeah, lots of fun!” Pause. “All right, Mrs. Alexander, we’ll see you then. Thanks for the invite!”
Kaitlyn turned her phone off and explained the new arrangement. “They got some static from the guests last time, so they’re switching to three massage drawings, each done on the main floor instead of drawing them all up front with scheduled times. They want us to spend twenty minutes with each client, and they’ll give us at least twenty minutes between clients so we can better enjoy the party; they felt we worked too hard at the last one.”
“That all sounds good to me.”
Kaitlyn’s eyes widened with a thought, then she continued, “Oh, and they’re making the solarium massage a formal event this time! They got a lot of appreciative feedback about the impromptu one!”
“Who’s going to be the client this time?”
“They’re making it a charity auction!” she said gleefully. “They will of course be disclosing the nature of the fourth special massage to the bidders up front, but Molly said she knows for certain there’s at least half a dozen people eager to win it, and she expects competitive bidding. She said they’ve rigged the game to almost guarantee that a woman wins the bid, but she wouldn’t say how.”
“That’s how I’d want it if I was setting the rules, too,” I agreed.
“Yeah, me too,” Kaitlyn admitted, shrugging her shoulders.
“Manly-man that I am, I know why I have that preference,” I commented jocularly, “but I wonder, is there not a man beautiful enough that you’d prefer to have him as the client instead of a woman? I’d go along with it if that’s what you wanted to do.”
She looked thoughtful, then said, “No, I think women are just nicer to look at, even as a straight woman myself. There are some awfully gorgeous men in the world, but for pure esthetics, I think women have got you guys beat. Sorry, Davie,” she said with another shrug.
“I quite agree,” I said simply.
Kaitlyn went on, “We don’t need to bring our massage tables. Molly told me they got a pair for use by their servants, who are now taking night classes at a different massage school. Some nights, they do each other. They’re letting us use their own tables for this party.”
“That’s nice of them,” I commented. Kaitlyn didn’t need me to explain just how nice it was: a well-built massage table is heavy, and its weight is not lessened by the big bold letters spelling “PORTABLE” on the side of the shipping crate.
Kaitlyn then took me back to our bedroom and proposed, “Let’s make up a special set of the cropped shirt and shorts outfits for the party, Davie.”
“Snow elves!” I said, expanding on her idea.
“Yeah! The green’s easy, and we’ve got some brick red material in our collection, too,” she said thoughtfully.
“The palest natural hemp rope we can get for the waistband cinches,” I put in.
“Yeah,” she agreed quietly, still in thought. “Hey, Davie, you said we can’t make our bodies do anything our DNA doesn’t code for, but you were saying that in the context of long-term modifications. What about short-term?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Elf ears?” she asked, hope brimming in her eyes.
“Well, I don’t see why not, especially the lightly pointed style like in the Peter Jackson LoTR movies, as opposed to the longer ears more common in older shows.”
“Let’s try it!” she enthused.
That night, we stripped off and ran out over the light snow crusting Jess’ back yard and played with pointed pinnae while our pudenda purpled. The transformation required a fair bit of energy, but other than that it wasn’t difficult to learn to do. My ears itched afterwards, but a bit of soothing magical attention solved that.
“What’re you two doing out here?” called Jess from the porch.
I walked over to her in my skin and said, “Snow elves,” pointing at my ear, tilting it down so she could see it clearly.
“Oh, wow, that’s some amazing work!” she exclaimed, reaching up for it as I shied away. She looked bemused by my reluctance, asking “Who did this for you?” as she drew her hand back.
“We’ve been learning the art amongst ourselves,” I said, which was true even while it implicitly accepted her faulty premise. Kaitlyn had crept up through the snow and showed off her ears as well, learning from what she’d seen between Jess and I, timorously keeping her distance. “We’re seeing how well they’ll work at the party.”
“You’ll be naked outside at this party?” Jess asked, sounding oddly hopeful.
“No, it just seemed like the thing to do here,” I said with a grin. “Snow elves,” I repeated, hoping that clarified it for her.
“Are you sure you won’t be naked outside? I heard a few things back through the grapevine about what went on at the last party,” Jess said archly.
“Yeah, well, if you hadn’t hidden away playing video games, maybe you’d have seen more of that firsthand!” shot back Kaitlyn, softening the criticism with a small smile.
Wanting to defuse the confrontation, I quickly said, “Part of that was our fault, Kaitlyn. We were off doing massages, leaving Jess all alone.”
“Oh, I’m being selfish, aren’t I?” asked Kaitlyn, looking like she was going to tear up.
“Oh…!” was all Jess said, and then the two hugged each other.
“I’m sorry, Jess. I just want you to join in the fun, that’s all,” Kaitlyn soothed, speaking into Jess’ ear, their embrace still tight.
“I’ll have more fun at the party if you’re dressed like this,” she murmured into Kaitlyn’s elven ear, then slipped down her body and kissed her breast to punctuate her point.
“Umm…maybe,” answered Kaitlyn.
“That would be so awesome,” Jess said, still speaking into Kaitlyn’s bared breast. Then she released Kaitlyn, stood up straight, and smiled down at her from her three inch height advantage.
“Maybe,” repeated Kaitlyn.
“Well,” I put in, “I noticed that your invitation allowed a guest separate from us two, Jess. How about you bring Vin? He’d love to be introduced to that crowd anyway, and then you’ll have more cause to stay out and see our antics while we’re busy entertaining the crowd?”
“Yeah,” Jess said, “he would like that.”
We all went back inside, Kaitlyn and I to our bedroom, where we were able to release the spell on our ears using only a fraction of our internal power reserves. I don’t think I could have set the modification up on my reserves alone, and I know for sure Kaitlyn couldn’t yet despite her growth in the power, but releasing our body to resume its programmed shape was easier than pushing it out of that pattern.
“I’m pretty sure the full-body transformations Merlyn made upon young Arthur in the legends are impossible, at least at our skill level,” I commented once we were fully human again.
“You won’t find me flapping around this room as an owl, that’s for sure,” she confirmed.
“I think even full-body transformations like to a pre-CG Hollywood werewolf might be beyond our power at this point,” I speculated.
“Yeah,” she agreed softly.