"Why do you want that?" He asked gently.
"I want to have power over men." She replied.
Her truth was intoxicating to him.
She asked with hope in her eyes. "Is it possible?”
He answered. "All things are possible for a price."
Every transformation he created would be as much for him as it was for her, but he couldn't buy a meal with a favor. He wouldn't give away his art. He didn't work for free.
He threw out a high opening price expecting to start a round of haggling. He was surprised when Betty accepted the amount. She reached into her purse and pulled out a little more than half the cash to cover the payment. “This is all I have right now, I will get the rest to you another time.”
He accepted her terms and they were ready began the transformation process.
The Gypsy walked to the edge of the vault and pulled back a curtain revealing another chamber. Betty entered. The space looked like a movie star's dressing room. There were mirrors traced by light bulbs. An open makeup kit, pallets, jars and brushes sat on a long white counter ready to serve their master.
He seated her in a plush red barbers chair. It was as soft and luxurious as a throne. He guided her head back so the base of her skull rested on a skinny metal yoke. He explained that photographers used these thin props to help subjects hold still for tintype photographs, which had long exposure times. He repurposed them. She settled in and was very comfortable.
Betty said. "Keep in mind, I don’t want any permanent changes. I want to establish two different identities.
Another shiver engulfed Beznik. He contained himself and said, "Yes ma'am."
He began sculpting her new face. The Gypsy took his craft very seriously. Every transformation he undertook was as much an act of love as it was an exercise in creativity. He was making art as he applied the makeup. The brushed tickled her. It had been so long since anyone had touched Betty. His fingertips gave her goose bumps.
He was immersed in his craft. He paid close attention to minute details. As he worked, her appearance began to change. New features took shape. He was corrupting her innocent face.
He narrated his performance as he worked. His voice was so even and soothing, like a hypnotist's. Her eyelids became heavy. His words and touch were so relaxing. She'd been working so hard lately. This experience was a nice comfortable escape from her real life.
He spoke of transformation. He spoke about the freedom contained in anonymity. He spoke of the pleasure in keeping secrets. He spoke of dreams.
His touch was so gentle, like a caress…She drifted off to sleep…
When Betty woke up it seemed like moments since she dozed off, but it was actually two hours later. She reached up to rub the sleep from her eyes.
Beznik stopped her. "Don't! You’ll ruin your make up."
Betty stopped and asked "What? Are we done?"
Beznik beamed with pride. "See for yourself."
He spun her in the red chair to face the mirror. She leaned in and said. "I'm gone…"
Someone new took her place. Betty saw the face of a gorgeous stranger looking back at her. The woman was exotic. She had almond shaped eyes that peaked out from behind thick, black hair. It was long and poured over her shoulders and down her back. Her face was now oval. Her nose turned up slightly, over full lips. She looked just like a model from a French art magazine. The transformation was so dramatic. She loved it.
It seemed impossible that the reflection was really her. The new disguise masked any hint of the innocence her old face conveyed. The stranger smiled with an alluring, mischievous grin. This woman knew things good girls didn’t. She was an object to be desired. She radiated the confidence of experience. Her eyes contained secrets. This mysterious woman would draw men in. They would do anything for her, and she could destroy them.
A hot flash ran through her and something moist happened between her legs and she tightened her thighs.
"This, this is amazing!" She squealed.
She went to touch her face again, but stopped herself. "Can I touch my face?"
He laughed. "Of course you can my darling. I just stopped you from rubbing and ruining your eye make up. I spent a lot of time on them since you know they are the windows to the soul."
He was right, Betty looked deeply into the eyes of the stranger but saw herself in them. Then her fingers gently probed her new cheeks. It felt so real. They were warm but dead to the touch, like her new face was numb. Her transformation was so complete it seemed like magic.
Betty said. "This is incredible. How far can you take this?"
He replied. "As far as you want to go. With a costume change and by adding body forms, I can make you look like anyone."
Mesmerized at the thought she said. "Golly…I want to learn more. Will you teach me?"
The Gypsy responded. "Of course, of course, if you have the money, I’ll make the time to transform you. Just call me and let me know when."
Betty was more eager then he expected. "Maybe we should set standing appointments a few times a week?"
He chuckled. "Like I said before, I go where the money takes me. For the right price we can make standing appointments, and I promise my store will always be open for you.”
He was in it for the transformation, the cash and the praise. He got all of them. Beznik was a master showman. He knew how to wow an audience and leave them wanting more. He asked. "Do you want to go home like this?"
She though for moment then said. "No you'd better change me back so I can return to my real life.”
He stripped off her mask and Betty returned to the world outside the magical, costume shop.
Betty added a few more steps in her weekly routine. Somehow she managed to juggle them all. She alternated days between her fighting and disguise lessons. Betty was enthralled as a student of the Gypsy. Each session he made her into someone else. She was patient and methodical in her collection of information. She asked precise questions and talked little. She watched, listened and absorbed as he performed.
The Gypsy said. "You will discover that people aren't very observant. Transformation is the art of illusion and manipulation. You are whomever you can make others believe you are."
Betty said. "It sounds like lying."
He responded. "Of course it is. Everyone lies. It’s how we survive in the Citadel.”
She already knew it to be true.
One night, under the Gypsy’s tutelage, Betty recreated her first disguise. She became the mysterious woman with long black hair again. Then headed out to infiltrate Razzles.
She was dressed exquisitely. She wore a tight black dress and bright red lips. As she arrived she was quickly ushered into the nightclub. In a strange way she’d missed the place. She loved the music the band played. The crowd laughed and the girls worked their magic on the wealthy clients. She took a strange comfort in knowing some things never changed. She glided through the well dressed crowd that filled round tables. There were so many familiar faces, and she held so many of their secretes. She could exploit them all now if she chose, because no on knew who she was. There would be no repercussions.
She got the attention she was looking for. Even from people she knew. They stared but no one saw the truth. No one saw Betty. They only saw the illusion of the mysterious persona dreamt up by the Gypsy. She made men's mouths water. She was free to cause chaos if she so desired. It was too easy. She felt giddy like a mischievous little girl up to no good.
She arrived at the bar and was quickly greeted by the bartender. Betty used a sultry voice mimicking the Gypsy's accent and introduced herself as Raven. She said she was new in town and looking for a job. She claimed to have heard good things about Razzles. She assured him that she had experience in what they were looking for. The bartender was all too eager to oblige. Before long she was talking with the manager of Razzles. The last time she saw him, he was yelling humiliating things at her. He dumped Betty into the street. It was a memory that felt like a nightmare. He had such rancor in his words. Now he was charming her, practically begging her to join the staff.