Chapter Text
Cover picture by the amazing divergentmisfit
Morticia let a single fingernail slide along the glass of the picture frame. "Would you approve of my course of action, mon coeur? Would you enjoy the sheer overemphasis, the dramatization?" She squeezed her eyes shut to prevent a tear from messing up her makeup, letting out a shaking sigh instead.
It didn't matter that a full year had passed, her husband's death had driven a pike through her chest, leaving a gaping wound that to this day made it hard for her to breathe. Her soulmate, the love of her life, her partner in crime had gone on without her, and there was nothing she could have done to prevent that. No revenge she could extract. She wouldn't be whole anymore and she had accepted that with the grace of someone who had never feared Death but respected Her as a part of life.
And she had her oath to hold onto.
Her decision made, Morticia grabbed the photo of her husband and planted a kiss on it, before putting it back on the mantlepiece, and storming away, leaving Gomez's reproduction adorned with a black stamp of lipstick.
"Welcome to Uriah's Treasures, I'm Uriah, how can I be of service?" the motherly lady at the counter – My pronouns are she/her, informed the colorful pin on her cardigan – was not the type of person Morticia had imagined welcoming her in such a place, but after all, Morticia herself wasn't the usual client that roamed these halls. Or maybe she was. She had to admit her ignorance on the more day-to-day aspects of escort services. She took her right glove off and shook the presented hand with a steady grip.
First rule of high society: never let them know when you are out of your comfort zone.
"Hello, I'm Morticia, Morticia Addams. I was hoping to get more information on what you offered, and potentially hire one of your employees."
"How lovely! Please, if you'd like to take place into this little sitting room to your right, I'll be right there with you in a minute."
This was something Morticia recognized: it was the start of high-end business proposals of any kind, where the potential customer and the potential seller sounded each other out, to see if there was any chance of a collaboration. She had been in this position thousands of times, and some of her well-hidden nerves were soothed. It would seem that as her research had shown, this was a distinguished business avenue, and not a tawdry brothel. No matter the services offered.
She perched herself on one of the dainty loveseats and took the time to study the decor: it was tasteful, if a little too bright for her personal tastes – as was most décor, sadly, except for the lovely mansion she called home – interior designers should really learn how to darken their palettes to a chic gothic mélange of blacks and deep burgundies.
"Thank you for your patience, would you like something to drink while we chat?" Uriah had followed her in the room and was waiting on her reply to close the door behind her.
"That won't be necessary, thank you very much."
"Very well then,” she selected a spot on the armchair facing Morticia's own seating place and flashed her a warm smile before getting the ball rolling. “We usually like to let the potential client tell us what their specific needs are, to see if it's something that we can provide. What kind of services were you looking for when you came here today?"
"I have been estranged from the public eye for quite some time, and I find myself wanting to make quite the impression with my comeback. I was hoping you could provide a companion of striking appearance to accompany me to several high-society events. If you have someone that fits my criteria, of course."
She raised an eyebrow in challenge and was surprised to see a responding smirk on the woman sitting in front of her. "Somehow I doubt that is going to be a problem."
Cocky. Morticia could appreciate that.
"What we usually do is to suggest a match between our employees and our clients and arrange a time here to talk between the two. If the match is not satisfactory to either part, we do our best to find other ones until an agreement is reached or suggest one of our partner companies if your requirements cannot be met by our staff. When we have a match, we can discuss pricing, which per our policy has a flat starting fee and an hourly fee on top of that, regardless of the activities involved in that timeline."
"That sounds like a well-oiled machine."
"I'm glad you think so. As far as the specific activities involved go, it is a negotiation that you can undertake with the person you match with. I wished it could go without saying that all activities need to be consensual and not put our employees' life or well-being in danger. Our legal team is a dangerous enemy to have, and so am I." the sharpness of Uriah's tone was a surprise coming from her soft features, and Morticia could only nod in respect to the fierce protectiveness she had towards her employees.
"It seems more than reasonable. I guess in this line of work it's best to be clear from the get-go to avoid future unpleasantness."
"You have no idea, ma'am. But I’m glad we are on the same page about it. So, if I understand correctly, you’re looking for someone who makes heads turn, is well-versed in etiquette and able to entertain polite society. Anything else?”
Once again, Morticia found herself surprised at how easy and professional this conversation was. It was really not that different from when she went to an atelier to get her custom clothing done. The only variation was that the sizing up of the client seemed to be more moral than physical here.
“No, I believe you summed it up pretty well.”
"Splendid! With those specifications I just know who the right person might be for you, and if I'm not mistaken…" she pulled out her phone, checking something on it "…they might even be free right now, if you want to get the first interview done right away. It usually takes something between fifteen and thirty minutes, would you like to do it right away, or would you prefer to think about it?"
There was something quite soothing in being given the chance to opt out of the whole thing so easily. Morticia wouldn't even have to lie, she could just walk out of the establishment and not think about this anymore. Go back to her grieving, and her too-empty mansion, memories hiding in every nook, every piece of furniture, every picture frame.
But she had promised. And she had a plan. And Morticia Addams was not someone who went back on her word.
"Meeting them right now would be acceptable."
"Very well, if you'll just wait here, I'll be sending them down immediately." Uriah quickly made her way to the door and Morticia allowed herself to relax slightly in the now empty sitting room. The first step in the plan was taken, now she just needed to go on with the show.
A soft knock interrupted her musings, and at her “Come in!” the door opened, to reveal a tall person striding confidently in, and it took all of Morticia’s poker face not to let her jaw drop. Whomever she had expected to walk through the door, she could have never pictured this.
She had to hand it to Uriah, she had had her reasons to be so smug. Morticia had asked for someone who could make an impression, and the individual that had just entered surely fit the description. The towering, statuesque figure could have been a representation of one of the divinities of old, carved out of marble and pure gold by a hand too inspired to be considered just human.
“Well, aren’t you a beautiful one.” Usually Morticia wasn’t one for understating the truth, au contraire, she enjoyed toeing the line of excess when in doubt, but even she could find little to no words to describe the gorgeous being that had walked into the room. “What’s your name, divinité?”
They blushed coyly, looking at her from under long, mascara-coated lashes, as they sauntered past the armchair left empty by Uriah, choosing to sit beside Morticia on the loveseat. Their long legs were left almost completely bare by this gesture, milky expanses of skin that climbed up to where a skin-tight golden dress hugged the rest of the body. “Hello to you too, charmer. I go by Sequoia, but you can call me anything you like,” was the answer, in a low timbre full of unspoken promises.
Morticia felt her lips curl up in a smirk, as she extended her hand to shake theirs, meeting the smoldering gaze of deep blue eyes. “A redwood? Quite the stately name… It surely fits the way your presence fills the room, you command attention as soon as you step foot inside. As for me, Morticia will do. A pleasure to meet you.” As soon as it was extended, her bare right hand was caught between her companion’s two, and they lowered their luscious lips to its back, brushing it with the faintest of kisses. They never lost eye contact as they did so, murmuring: "The pleasure is all mine" in that low, sensual voice.
If she had been a lesser woman, Morticia would have been flustered by the sudden contact, or by the unwavering smolder of those icy eyes, but she had never been one to be intimidated by flirting. Even if the setting was out of her usual haunts, she found herself relaxing: this was a language she was fluent in and it put her at ease.
She retrieved her hand when its captor freed it from their grasp and felt a dangerous edge climbing into her smile. Time to start testing the waters; she was here on a mission, and a pretty face alone wouldn’t be of much help if this young thing couldn’t hold their own in a conversation. She couldn’t afford a single misstep, this whole production had to work like clockwork.
"Pleasure is a forgiving mistress, wouldn’t you say? I'm sure it can be both given and received freely.” She let a wink drop from her own eye, and continued their conversation blithely, studying the other’s reaction, “What are your pronouns, Sequoia?" Her flirting response was met with a playful grin, as if her conversation partner was pleasantly surprised to have someone properly flirting back.
"Indeed she is, and generous with her gifts to those who worship at her altar.” There was a subtle art in letting seemingly innocent words take on a deeper, more sensual meaning just by twisting the intonation slightly, and apparently Sequoia had graduated that class with flying colors. That was a good sign. “I use any and all pronouns, so you can pick and choose whichever you prefer. What are yours, Morticia?" She was quite familiar with her own name, but the way it was dragged out in a sultry purr made it sound almost exotic to her ears.
"And what about the pronouns you use in your own head for yourself? Do those change as well? I go by she/her." That seemed to give the other person some pause, and Sequoia seemed to ponder the question a little longer, without rushing the answer, like the way it was presented was somewhat new, although it felt like a natural follow up question for Morticia. "I guess it's mostly she/her in my head, but depending on the shape I'm wearing, I might lean a bit more they/them or he/him…there’s no way to get it wrong. Just use whatever comes to your lips." The smirk grew a bit wider at this, as if it was a private joke beside the obvious innuendo. She couldn’t help but feel her curiosity pique.
"What do you mean when you say the shape I'm wearing?"
"You mean that Uriah didn't tell you? She usually cannot resist boasting about me…as she should. I am her jewel in the crown after all."
"Modest, are we?"
"My lips only speak the truth, Morticia." The coy smile was back, but behind those fluttering eyelashes Morticia could see the dark allure of self-confidence. This person had some hidden depths that she didn’t immediately share with the class, and Morticia found herself wanting to explore them.
"I’m like a custom-made jewel, commissioned to the most skilled of goldsmiths. Whatever you desire, it can be within your grasp. No compromises, I can be anything and anyone you want, down to the smallest detail. Uriah told me you are looking for a plus one to accompany you to high-end soirees, but tell me,” Sequoia’s voice had dropped into a seductive murmur, as she leaned forward, as if immersed in the most confidential of conversations, the coy smile taking on a smirking edge, “when you came here today, who were you imagining as this mysterious companion? Maybe a dashing toyboy?” And suddenly, in the blink of an eye, that was exactly who was sharing Morticia’s loveseat, hair perfectly mussed as if he had just rolled out of bed, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, showing a tantalizing glimpse of toned chest. The smirk though, the smirk was the same. Morticia couldn’t help the slight widening of her eyes at that.
“You’re a shapeshifter,” the world rolled off her tongue in wonder. That explained the hidden mirth before, and both Sequoia’s and Uriah’s confidence that they could offer anyone Morticia could ask for, at least in appearance. And the rapidity of the switch had been flawless! One moment, a golden divinity, the other, the epitome of rugged masculine sex-appeal…to see an outcast so at ease with their powers, so unapologetically themselves in this horrifyingly normie-centric world, was mesmerizing.
“Congratulations, Morticia” The same smooth confidence as before, spoken in a deeper voice “A+ for observation skills. But maybe you wanted someone else? A top-model, maybe? To let all the boys die of envy when they see us together?” long, statuesque legs were once again put on show, as Sequoia shifted into someone who could have just exited the runway to come lounge here beside Morticia, all sharp angles, perfect make-up and exposed skin, but she wasn’t done yet: "Or maybe you're more into more mature, distinguished companions?" the slicked back blonde bob was suddenly a grey undercut, clearly as military-inspired as was the handsome, chiseled face underneath. A man older than Morticia was, a man who would make many ladies swoon with only the raise of an eyebrow and a crooked smile.
She took a slight intake of breath. She had been beyond lucky in her search; she could have never imagined a more perfect person for what she had in mind.
“Mh? What will it be, then? You can unleash all of your desires, they are safe with me. You tell me who you’ll want by your side all through the night, and you’ll have them.” The shapeshifter lips were next to her ear, now, the gravelly voice little more than a whisper, tantalizing, intoxicating.
And yet, if Morticia had to be honest with herself – and it was something she endeavored to do as much as possible – although impressed by the shapeshifter’s power and dazzled by the beauty of all of these shapes she took, she couldn’t help but feel the slightest pinprick of unease at this sort of “à la carte” offer.
Was she supposed to just pick and choose an option? Tweak details? No, just a couple of inches shorter. A button nose, not a straight one. Can you make your hair a touch more ‘Old Hollywood’? Yes, like that, but in ice blond. Asking that to a person…it didn’t sit right with Morticia. No matter the fact that Sequoia herself was offering it, this was a human being they were talking about, not a custom-made accessory. She wanted a companion by her side to enact her plan, yes, but she didn’t want to exploit the amazing power at the fingertips of this person to simply achieve a shallow aesthetic criterium. That was not what her coming here was all about.
Slightly uncomfortable and refusing to show it, she did what she always did when she was out of her depth: she bluffed. "Whatever form you are more comfortable in, darling. It's quite obvious that you can be gorgeous whatever you choose."
There was another shift, and a similar appearance to the one at the start of their conversation was back beside her, albeit one lacking that otherworldly character about her – a more human version of it in a way –, young, red-painted lips pursed as Sequoia studied Morticia intensely through her golden ringlets of hair. "You're an interesting one, Morticia."
"Well, I do try my best."