205 Dress

Choosing what to wear when being blackmailed into going on a date was certainly a challenging task. Such had Glynda discovered as she scoured her wardrobes and drawers, seeking out something both fancy but not with much effort behind it's elegance. Simultaneously it had to be easy to move in so she could properly collect her riding crop to welt Parc should he decide to let his hands wander. All in all, it was a task more challenging than ever expected. Glynda didn't have many 'dresses' in the first place. Barring the various vacations strewn throughout the school year, she hadn't the opportunity to put them to work. Especially not with all the more secretive aspects of Remnant she was set to deal with. This would be her first real day off in more years than she could count off the top of her head.

Frowning as she plucked a particularly sleek dress from her wardrobe, she lightly dusted it of some lint that had accrued on it. Holding it over herself in the full body mirror her frown deepened. "My lord, I wore something like this?" the dress was more something expected of a Street side harlot, barely reaching past her waist and would squeeze her stomach like a noose. Even the breasts looked overly small and particularly revealing considering the V of the neck ran down to just below her sternum.

She faintly recalled a time, long before Ozpin, long before joining his secretive organization. Back even before entering beacon when bad ideas and false friendships lead her into befriending maniacs and club goers. All of which she regretted after a stern talking to from her father and a revelation about who she wanted to be. Someone respectable. Not a slag.

"Why did I keep this." She plucked it from the hanger and threw it to the side where it began to float towards the bin, bunching up into a crumpled ball of fabric before ultimately entering the collection of refuse she'd yet to take out. With that sickening memory tossed to the wayside, she returned to her wilting collection of feasibly wearable and event appropriate wear. This date Parc was blackmailing her into was far, so utterly distant from a formal endeavour, nothing that required such a lengthy thought process.

Sifting through the dresses one by one and lingering on them for just long enough to get a general idea of their appearance. Many were formal, too formal for what this was, the others simply disappointingly dull. "Do I really have nothing to wear?" grumbling she did another pass over her assortment, sighing dejectedly when none of it was anything so as remotely passable for a date.

Her cheek twitched and a shiver ran down her spine, "I'm thinking of this as a date. Perfect, I've lost my mind. You know what, damn him, damn this 'date' Why should I care about how I look." Ripping open her drawers she collected a clean blouse, the same as she usually wore with a keyhole neckline that ran to just above the centre of her bosom. Pulling that on above her undergarments, she quickly grabbed her pencil skirt and dressed in that as well. Reaching out for her cape—which was neatly folded off to the side—her hand paused, her eyes narrowed. Would a cape make her appear too out of place at whatever this place Parc was taking her? No, either way she was going to be out of place with what she'd chosen to wear, a cape was likely to make little change to that fact. Then again…

Flicking her wrist, the cape flew up, the fabric splaying out to show off the stylized arrows and flames of the cut. Slowly, it began to fold, once, then twice until it was neat, she seat it on the head of her bed. Joining it not long after.

There was no one to blame but herself for this. Lax is what she was, finding some stress relief in debauchery and perversion. Idiot. Fool. She clenched the wood of the bed frame and ground her teeth. A nod of her head spun around the mirror to face her and she looked herself in the eyes past her spectacles. They were cold, angry, not at Parc but herself. Such a hobby should have never become a reality, especially not with her, not as a teacher.

Resting her face into her hand she pushed up her glasses and rubbed her eyes. There was still an hour till they were set to meet at the docks, an hour she'd undoubtedly be spending berating herself for her sickening actions.

"Summer," she suddenly thought. Weren't those two in a relationship? Then what was this flagrant adultery? An idea swiftly formulated, Summer, could she force Parc's lips shut and end this nightmarish mistake of hers? The idea was just too tempting to not attempt. Swiping her hand through the air, her scroll rushed into her hand and opened, she swiftly slashed across the screen and brought up the contacts screen and lingered over Summer's name. Calling her now would likely bring up he question, 'why?' was she ready to divulge that to her.

Glynda shook her head, there wasn't a choice. She'd skirt around the question but if push came to shove, Summer could be trusted not to blab. The scroll rung, once, then twice, and by the third Glynda realized something. From behind her door, she could hear something, 'Backstreet's back alright!" followed by some musical number.

A scrambled yelp sounded, and the ringing suddenly ended, the soft echo of "er, hello?" came through the door and a moment later from the scroll. Twice she blinked once she glanced at her scroll and back to the door.

"Summer." Glynda spoke into the scroll, "why are you outside my door?"

"Oh-oh, well, uh, Parc told me you're going out with him and we both agreed that you probably didn't have anything to wear so I'm outside, uh, carrying a dress for you." Her voice meek, seemingly minute even though it came through twice.

"He told you?" Glynda exclaimed.

"Yeah, um, do you think you could let me in, and we can talk about it while you get dressed?"

A raised brow was followed by a flick and a click as the door creaked open allowing Summer to inch herself in. Something blue and sparkling hanging over her arm alongside a simple looking box with flattened edges. A jewelry box. Perfect. Not only was she getting a dress, but jewellery as well.

Summer dressed herself kindly, taking a simply T-shirt with 'Recently returned from the dead' written on it with an arrow pointed to her head. Above that an open cardigan top and a pair of blue jeans.

"I've been meaning to ask this what with that Kurome girl and now this Esdeath, but exactly what type of relationship do you have with Evans?" Crossing her arms beneath her breasts as Summer flinched and flushed.

"It's… complicated?"

"Then uncomplicate it. No, before then, you know about this 'date' I'm being forced into?"

Summer nodded.

"And you know exactly why, I am being forced into this?"

Hesitant, Summer nodded again. This time, Glynda flushed but tried to bury the embarrassment and disgust.

"I mean, I can't exactly comment about what gets you off. I'm in no place to even so much as say that it's wrong." Summer strained drawing her a single raised and curious brow from Glynda. "I… I uh, sort of, maybe, possibly… enjoywatchingParchavesexwithotherwomen."

It took a bit, but Glynda parsed through that hasty sentence and the vividly red hue the older Rose before her had taken. "Pardon me?"

"Please don't make me repeat that. It's embarrassing enough as it is."

Whimpering, Summer pushed closer to Glynda and shoved the dress and the jewellery box towards her.

"I won't. I just, can't process you, of all people being into that type of thing."

"And I can't imagine you enjoying being naked in public."

Both went silent with the ambient temperature steadily rising past the minutes.

"Can we just say me, and Parc have an open relationship and be done with it?"

"Sure. Can we just say nothing about my mistake?"

"Yeah, I had no intention of speaking to anyone about that. Though, please be more careful about where you do it in the future."

Glynda snorted, "I don't think I'll be doing that anytime soon." In response Summer's eyes went blank and her eyes skirted away. The action going unnoticed as Glynda set the jewelry box to the side and unfolded the dress with the help of her semblance. "This… is quite beautiful."

***

As a student at Beacon, Yang considered herself one of the best, studious—except in Ports class, and well, any other class—and utterly beautiful members of Beacons studentry. She prided herself on her team, especially her little sister who'd even become her leader.

There were ups, and definitely downs with the composition. Rich girls and silent black-haired partners didn't really get along, surprisingly. There was also the most pressing event of the last ten years, the return of their mother. Summer Rose. Yang was still getting used to the idea that she had Summers number on speed dial and could call her at any given moment, even more, she couldn't reason that she could take twenty minutes out of her day to walk over to Professor Evans classroom and meet up with her. Something Ruby had been doing on a nigh daily basis once Summers infamous cookies appeared. Actually, Ruby went either way. Just being with her mother, her real mother, was enough.

Today though, long after lessons had finished and Yang had decided to go wandering about Beacon for a breath of fresh air, did she see something… odd, in the distance. At first, she didn't know what to think, it made no sense, Professor Goodwitch in a dress looking like a woman about to go out to eat at a fancy restaurant or even attend a ball like Weiss was likely to do? That did just not compute with the stern teacher she was used to.

It took not a second for her to snap a picture from around the corner and forward it to her team, quickly followed by 'WTF' followed by three shocked emojis.

Weiss was the fastest to reply, 'And? Ms. Goodwitch is free to go out whenever and dressed in whatever she wishes.'

'Don't be boring W. This is the discovery of the century! Meet me at the docks lets follow her!" devious emojis followed.

'I don't think that's very appropriate.'

'If you agree give me an Aye!'

'Aye sir!' was what Ruby typed.

'Blake? And don't you dare say you're reading a book. Because we both know that isn't true.'

'Sure. But if we get found out I'm taking none of the guilt.'

'Great! Three against one, W, get your posh heiny over here, we've got a teacher to stalk!'

***

Welp, this is starting. I would like to mention that holy shit, I wrote this date into a dozen chapters, good lord.