The next night, while Archer was likely still asleep, Ami was having a dilemma of her own.
Morgaine was sitting on her bed, idly picking at the strings of Ami\'s banjo as she got dressed in a pair of tight black jeans and studded leather vest, zipped up just so, to show off the round firmness of her breasts. The dark-skinned woman looked up when she was done, and tilted her head to one side. "Why are you all dressed up?" she asked, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.
"Got a date," Ami replied, and Morgaine laughed. Ami looked over at her briefly, clearly not sharing her mirth, and the singer\'s eyes went as wide as saucers. Ami? Date? Unthinkable.
"Seriously?"
"Yup."
"What the fuck man?!" Morgaine quickly set aside the banjo, "When?! With who?! where are you going?! Why the hell didn\'t you
tell me?!"
"He\'ll be here at seven-thirty. Name is Archer. Some place called Echelon. Knew you\'d get like this." Ami turned to face Morgaine, resting her weight against the TV set, set on a bureau directly across from the bed.
If at all possible, Morgaine\'s incredulity increased, "Are you serious?
Echelon? It takes like, months, to get on the waiting list for that place." She looked her bassist up and down, eyes narrowing, "You aren\'t wearing
that to
Echelon, are you?" As Ami looked down at herself Morgaine shook her head emphatically, then answered her own question, "You know what? No. No you\'re not. C\'mere." Before Ami could protest, the singer was on her feet, dragging her out the door, toward Vivianne\'s room.
The harpist wasn\'t in, but she\'d left her door propped, which likely meant she was in Joe\'s room. Morgaine immediately made a beeline for her closet, pulling something black off a hanger. Then, she ushered ami back into her room.
"Strip," she ordered once the door was shut behind her, arms crossed over her chest.
Ami just looked at her, brow quirked, in reply.
"Strip, or we\'ll play nothing but top 40 at the next show."
Ami raised her lip in a sneer, "You wouldn\'t." Morgaine nodded slowly. Oh yes, she would.
Looking thoroughly displeased, Ami did as requested, and Morgaine tossed the pilfered garment her way. "Now put that on. We have a lot of work to do in the next two hours."
~~
Morgaine was gone by the time Archer showed up, and it was Ami that answered the door. She wore a tight black
dress that accentuated her curves; a delicate contrast to the tattoos on her arms. Her lips were painted a vibrant, rich red, and her green eyes were accented by a ring of smoky black eyeshadow, flaring out into a subtle cat\'s eye at the corners. Her short hair was combed over to one side, framing her face in a curtain of tight, slick fingerwaves. On her feet, she wore a pair of death-defying black patent pumps, and she held a satin clutch in her red-nails fingers.
She looked gorgeous; classic, but her expression was, for once, unsure. "Hey," she said after a pause, sounding as casual as ever.