Stiletto Sisterhood

Original Edition: Cait| Though she be little, she be fierce

His hand folding over hers, a star etched into the deep umber skin, and squeezed gently. "I'm sure the best is yet to come." He paused long enough to open the office door and hold it open for her as she crossed the threshold and was immediately struck by the starkness.

White walls, a desk and a conference table, both topped in glass, a black leather sofa, black leather chairs that Cait pegged as Mies van der Rohe, and chrome lighting fixtures. Modern. Tasteful. Elegantly furnished with minimal possessions, free from the extraneous.

Only a few works of art graced the walls. The one that caught and held her eye the most was a Mario Sorrenti of a nude model laying across wet sand. It was rich with depth and texture that Caitriona could imagine stroking her finger across it and feeling the grains.

"May I introduce Cait Emerson, a respected fashion director for an online blog and a social media star on the rise."

A figure moved near the window, pulling her gaze to the woman who sat on the sill, window pushed open as she sucked on a cigarette.

"Althea Valois," Caitriona whispered her name, star-struck.

"Call me Thea, please. I prefer to work with less formality." Exhaling a stream of smoke, Althea blunted her cigarette and pushed up from the edge of the window sill. Six foot and lanky with sleek blonde hair, her whole style was big shouldered jackets, sleeves capped at her elbows, long legs in skinny jeans. Edgy rocker meets all around laid-back chic.

"I'm honoured to meet you," Cait gushed, though slightly confused. "I'm a huge admirer."

"Enchanté. Evan speaks very highly of you."

"It hasn't been formally announced as of yet, but Thea has assumed the mantle as the new editor-in-chief for Vogue Paris," Evan explained as Cait shook Thea's hand.

"Oh...congratulations. I guess you're still moving in and getting situated in your new office."

"No. This is it. C'est tout." She slid her hands into back pockets, cocked a hip. "I like clean. Both at work and home. Minimalism is better for focus and clarity. When everything is empty I'm calmer, more centered; I can see better. Work better. The less you have, the more you enjoy, mais non?"

As someone who had transformed an entire bedroom for her shoes, with over three hundred pairs in every shape, colour and style imaginable, Caitriona answered the statement with a vague smile.

"The press release announcing her succession is set to cross the wires this evening, and Althea is looking to strike hard, with impact," Evan said, guiding Caitriona to sit in one of the matching chairs. "Besides being smart and insanely good at her job, Thea has a very keen eye which has driven her success. She is going to make something truly special with Vogue."

Althea returned to her perch on the window sill. Drawing up a leg, she hooked an arm around her knee.

"Majority of my career has been forged in fashion journalism." Plucking out a fresh cigarette, she sparked her lighter, sucked in a long pull of smoke and exhaled out through the cracked window. "Most people hear change and it shrinks their balls. Yes, I want change, but smart. Not radical. We will keep the quality, the photographers we work with—our stable: Sims, Testino, Mert and Marcus, and Weber, but of course. The magazine should still be chic and sophisticated but I want us to remember that we are French. I want real and authentic. We can smoke and show nudity—push boundaries. Rattle foundations."

She paused, sucking on more smoke. "And that is what you do, non? Evan assures me there is no one better for this project than yourself. After carefully reviewing your blog, I must admit, we are all rather impressed. And interested."

Ankles crossed, Caitriona slid her hands beneath her thighs to keep from punching them victoriously in the air. Her love affair had all started with a job in a menswear store. As she'd helped with the measurements, selecting fabrics, Caitriona grew increasingly fascinated with men-inspired suits for women, but boldly stylized with bracelets, necklaces and drop earrings. Like slipping in a pair of stilettos, immediately you felt taller, sexier, and more confident.

And confidence changed everything.

"Thank you. Femmeinizer has been my life's work. I'm very proud of what we've accomplished in our short years."

"As you should be." Stubbing out her finished cigarette, she set an elbow to her narrow thigh. "A renowned photographer and industry elite cover model are coming out this weekend and we'd like you to be in charge of putting together the wardrobe for an eight week long online campaign built upon Femmeinizer's foundation. A new breed of fashion guide for the modern woman. This season will be all about chic attitude, a tribute to androgyny featuring everything from smoking jackets to boyish jumpsuits. Our goal is to make the trends of male fashion accessible, relatable and less...intimidating for women. To share all of your secrets."

"There's only one secret," Caitriona said. "Be it dresses or suits, it all comes down to structure and structure is defined by tailoring." A lesson she'd learned and learned well under the tutelage of Guiseppe. Every piece needed to fit to the body's specific measurements. The franchised business model of mass production small, medium and large bullsh!t was a crime to fashion.

To women.

And Caitriona had set out to educate. To empower. To embolden.

"You did good in there," Evan said, walking her out after another thirty minutes of shaking hands and hashing out idea. Only now did Caitriona dare aglow her face to split in an ear to ear smile. Setting her back to the wall, she let out a soft, giddy, giggle.

"I can't believe it."

"Believe it." Evan laughed, bracing a forearm to the wall. "You should do something tonight. Celebrate."

"I should," she agreed keeping where she was against the wall while her eyes beckoned him to come closer. Dared him to. "Where are you taking me?"

"There some place you had in mind?"

She raised a shoulder, let it fall. "Dinner would be great. Drinks would be better."

"There a reason we can't do both?"

"None whatsoever." Trailing a finger along his tie, she held his gaze. "Provided you don't mind being out late?" Caitriona caught the flash of understanding in his eyes, as like recognized like. Every word became a sexual dance filled with hidden meaning and transformed the simple and innocuous to the intensely provocative.

Sure he was older, but the man was devilish charm and cultured sophistication, add in the high of exhilaration and Caitriona was about to burst with energy. Energy she was eager to spend, so why not with him?

His eyes searched hers, went liquid and deep. God, he was sexy.

"Eight," he said and punched the elevator call button before walking away.

"Aren't you going to tell me where?"

"Just be ready," he said over his shoulder. "Leave the details to me."

**Author's Note**

I'd love to hear what you think about Cait! And for those waiting on Eshe -- don't worry! She's coming up next, I promise!!! :)