Demons Are a Girl's Best Friend

8- Getting Ready

Starting that day, Sylvia started spending her nights with Mephistopheles. His spell allowed her a nightmare-free slumber, while his presence provided a source of reassurance that she was not alone, and that if she were to have one of her fits, she would have someone to support her through them. As for the incident at work, though she had insisted on paying for the damage done in the bathroom, she was still very glad to hear that her manager would take care of it, as a way of apologizing for making her uncomfortable. Due to her tight financial situation, Sylvia was very relieved to hear this, and thanked her dearly. With David, however, things were a little awkward, with her taking her distance from him again and him making short conversations as an attempt to break the ice. Sylvia did not really hate him for what he had done, but the audacity he had to ask her to rely on him when he had done it; that really touched a nerve.

Besides the tension in her relationship with David, however, her week went by quite smoothly, and it was now a Saturday. Sylvia was feeling well-rested and almost excited to be spending a day out with her contract demon, Mephistopheles. She had bought him some casual clothes that he could wear outside, and was waiting for him to get ready while she touched on her makeup in her room. After a long struggle with herself, as to whether she should allow herself to enjoy today or not, she came to a conclusion that she should do her best to enjoy it as a way to thank Mephistopheles. Getting all depressed on a day he seemed so excited about would probably ruin it for him, and he would have to console her instead of having fun. As such, for his sake rather than hers, Sylvia wanted to have fun today.

Starting with her outfit, she wanted to go out of her way and put on her cute patterned skirt and white baggy blouse. For her legs, she wore dark pantyhose and black leather boots that reached just her ankles. As she was not planning to wear a jacket on top of her outfit, she let her curls fall to her shoulders in order to hide that ridiculous mark on her neck. Now, she was struggling to perfect her eyeliner, keeping one arm steady with the other. Mephistopheles' sudden appearance behind her startled her into drawing a curving line that reached her ear.

"What the f**k, Mephi! I told you to stop doing that." She said with a glare and a deep hopeless sigh.

"I was tired of waiting. You're taking too long." The demon shrugged behind her then threw himself on the bed in boredom.

"You act like such a kid, I swear. Now you gotta wait a little more cuz I just f****d up my eyeliner cuz of you." Sylvia was using a Q-tip to clean up the mess without having to redo everything. Then, turning to him, she continued: "Actually, can you do it for me? I don't know why, but you give the impression of being good at makeup."

As soon as she laid her eyes on him, though, Sylvia was awestruck. This demon had always been drop-dead gorgeous, but with these clothes on him, he was hotter than the sun. As he sat up, she gulped and quickly looked back at her reflection with a faint blush on her face. The black top, the jeans jacket wrapped stylishly around his waist, the pants, the sneakers, the sunglasses atop his head. Every article seemed to have one wish: To bring out this man's perfection as much as possible. She coughed awkwardly as he approached her and asked her for the eyeliner. Not to mention how he styled his already-divine looking hair, with two luscious bangs resting comfortably on each shoulder, while the rest yielded its freedom to a loose hairband; a few strands playfully threatened to slip out. His attractiveness was criminal, she thought to herself. If God ever personally sculptured a man, it would be Mephistopheles, which was ironic, since he was a demon.

"I haven't tried it before, but I am guessing I just need to copy what you did to your right eye, right?" He asked, focused on his task. Meanwhile, Sylvia was wondering why he smelled so good when she didn't get him any cologne. "Hello?" He tilted his head at her lack of response.

"Y-yeah! Yeah. Just copy it."

"Got it." With the eyeliner in one hand, he used the other one to lift her chin in his direction. Sylvia closed her eyes aggressively, giving the impression of someone about to get punched in the face. "Relax, Sylvie, it'll be fine. It can't be that hard if you could do it."

The subtle insult served as a reminder that as hot as this person was, he was still the sarcastic clean-freak of a demon that was living with her, and she found herself relaxing but for an offended frown. Soon, she felt the cold brush of the eyeliner against her eyelid. The process took about three seconds before her head was released altogether. Opening her eyes, a satisfied Mephistopheles was nodding proudly to himself. True enough, the eyeliner was perfect, much better than hers, actually. She thanked him, though a little jealous of his innate skills, and signaled him that it was time to leave.

The plan for today was to show Mephistopheles around the city, the places that she thought he might like or find interesting, namely the beach, the amusement park, and some of the main streets. Sylvia herself would never choose these locations as they were always foaming with crowds, especially on weekends. But for a demon who probably hadn't seen modern civilization, these places might be appealing to him. Besides, she only had to pay for the amusement park tickets, and for her own lunch, since demons did not eat nor drink.

As soon as they stepped out of the house, Mephistopheles had his mouth agape in astonishment. Her neighborhood was nothing special, of course, but you could easily see the tall buildings and skyscrapers looming in the distance, which seemed to catch his eyes. She couldn't see his expression clearly, since he was wearing eyeglasses to cover his peculiar eye color, but the sight of Mephistopheles childishly admiring the tall buildings got her chuckling a little.

"Come on, let's go." She said, thinking he was pretty cute for a demon.