This is a semi sequel to “The Art Ghost”. You don’t need to have read that short story to enjoy this one, but it reuses a couple characters!
This is a three part story - Part 2 is already up on my Patreon, and will be here in a week. Part 3 comes out on Patreon on February 6th, and here, publicly, on February 13th.
It also includes an illustration, which I put at the end of this post!
Irene DaLier wore blue and white on the evening of the ball.
The blue, a stunning cocktail dress, one that shimmered in the dim light of the dance hall, one that would make any woman jealous of her tailor, and of her body.
The white, a diaper hidden beneath her dress, puffy and crinkling.
Standing at the edge of the room, Irene watched, straightening out her dress. She saw no sign of her guest. She’ll be here. She promised. Heck, she could be here now. For all Irene knew, she was already inside, flitting about with the other guests in the banquet room. She had no way of knowing without an obvious tell; she’d never seen the Ghost before.
“That’s a lovely outfit,” a woman said, making Irene twitch in surprise. She hadn’t heard the woman come up behind her.
Turning, Irene’s gaze was caught by the woman’s ruby red lips, and the expression that played across them. She was smiling like she had just seen something funny, but was waiting for the right time to mention it.
Irene swallowed. “Thank you. It was a gift.”
“A gift that we’re all grateful for,” her smile widened. “Those of us with an appreciation for beauty, that is.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You shouldn’t be. I…” Her cadence hitched, just for a moment, glancing past Irene before resuming. “I was only wondering if you’d consider joining me in the next dance.”
Following her eyeline, Irene looked over her shoulder. She’d been glancing at the entrance, clearly, and at the moment Irene looked, only one person was coming in. Another lady that Irene didn’t know - Dark skin, searching eyes, and a vibrant yellow dress that didn’t quite fit her naturally. Store bought, most likely. Walking in, she started scanning the ballroom, purpose in her gaze.
Turning back, Irene tried to place the woman in front of her. She wasn’t local, certainly - She was too pale to have spent much time out in the sun, certainly, and her accent was foreign. American, maybe? “And why would I dance with you?”
“Because you had already asked to meet me .”
Irene’s eyes went wide in surprise. “You’re the g-”
“A guest,” the Ghost finished, as the band finished one song, and started playing another, strings backing up a sultry piano medley. “Now, dance with me?”
Biting her lip, Irene looked back over her shoulder, for the lady in the yellow dress. She wasn’t by the entrance any more. “Who was she?”
“An inconsequential detail,” the Ghost replied, reaching out and taking Irene’s hand. “Now or never, darling. I’m certain you know the steps.”
Irene did. She knew her way around a high society event, even if the crinkling padding between her thighs put a slight toddle in her step. “Did you have any trouble getting in?”
“Irene, please.” The Ghost shook her head, raising her hand and pressing her palm against Irene’s own, circling each other, slowly. “Don’t worry about me. Let’s talk about you.”
“I never told you my name,” Irene said.
“When the baroness’s daughter asks my help, I know,” the Ghost said. “No matter what she does to keep that a secret.”
Turning, Irene lowered her hand, speaking softly as she turned, so that the Ghost could put a hand on her waist as they moved around another pair of dancers. “How?”
The Ghost ignored her, hand slipping lower to feel the top of Irene’s diaper, through her dress. “I see you wore what I asked.”
“You said you wouldn’t meet me if I didn’t,” Irene said. “I know you wouldn’t make an idle demand like that.”
“I also said I was retired,” the Ghost said, turning around in a slow spin. “That hasn’t changed.”
Then, they parted, the dance separating them as they turned to face different partners.
Irene was suddenly face to face with the woman in the yellow dress.
“You can’t trust her,” the woman said.
Irene frowned, as they touched hands, slowly circling. “Who are you?”
“My name is Cassandra, but that’s unimportant,” she said, stepping the wrong way, almost kicking Irene in the shins until Irene moved to compensate. “That woman you were just speaking to. Whatever she’s promising you, don’t believe it, she’s just trying to rob you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Irene lied, as they weaved between two other dancers.
“Trust me,” Cassandra said. “She’ll play like she’s your friend, then empty your pockets the minute you turn around.”
“I was just talking to her about fashion,” Irene said. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then why are you wearing a diaper?”
It was Irene’s turn to stumble. She hadn’t thought it was visible. As they moved around each other, though, she put her hand to Cassandra’s waist and felt a telltale rustle beneath the store bought yellow dress. “Who are you?”
“Help me bring her to justice. Please.”
Then, they separated, broken apart by the dance. Irene was matched with a stranger, and played her part pleasantly.
On the other side of the ballroom floor, Cassandra and the Ghost touched hands.
“I swore I’d track you down,” Cassandra hissed.
The Ghost smiled. “And you did, little baby. It’s a shame you have no evidence that I am who you say I am.”
Cassandra gritted her teeth. “Even if I did, Ruthlos doesn’t have an extradition policy for art theft.”
“A lovely island, isn’t it? Mind your step, you seem a little inexperienced on the floor and I’d hate to see you humiliated.” They moved through the steps of the dance, with the Ghost leading. “How’s your potty training coming, by the way? I was so delighted to hear that you kept playing even after my whole bottle of special pills was emptied. Can you even tell when you’re about to have an accident?”
Glowering, Cassandra said, “I can still expose you. Plenty of people hold a grudge. If I put your location out, you’ll have enemies coming after you for a bit of revenge.”
“You can’t, can you?” the Ghost smiled. “No warning at all before you make a stinky diaper? That must be humiliating for a little baby like you.”
They turned, as the dance began to circle the way it came. “And if I find out you’ve done anything amiss here, I’ll get your ass shipped back to whatever court has the harshest sentence, and I’ll pin you to the wall with so many charges you’ll never get out.”
The Ghost laughed, quietly, and said, “The best part is, I can tell. Your nose gets all scrunched up and your knees bend, just slightly.”
“Hmm?” Cassandra frowned, sniffed, and then turned bright red.
“You should go attend to that, baby,” the Ghost smirked. “Before anyone can smell what you did to your diaper.”
“I will catch you,” she hissed, her brow knitting furiously.
“Maybe after a change. Ta-ta.” Spinning off to her next dance partner, the Ghost smiled as she found herself back with Irene. “Now, where were we?”
“You said you were retired, but I haven’t told you the job, yet,” Irene said. “Here me out.”
“I’m listening.”
They spun around each other. “A packet of sensitive documents was stolen, three days ago. The contents can’t be allowed to be released to the public.”
“And what do you expect me to do?” The Ghost raised an eyebrow. “In my experience, once documents go missing, eliminating all the copies from the internet becomes impossible.”
“They haven’t been copied, I’m certain of it,” Irene assured her. “They… it’s a complicated situation, and it involves national security. They’re in a safety deposit box at the central bank. I need to get them back before the person who stole them can get to the box and start making copies. I have the box number. I need someone to get them out.”
“That sounds like a job for law enforcement,” the Ghost said, as the song ended.
Irene shook her head, stepping back and curtsying with the end of the dance. “Law enforcement means a public record. This can’t go public, or I’d be personally on the hook.”
“What got stolen, exactly?” the Ghost raised an eyebrow.
“Documents.”
“Documents of what?”
Irene glanced away. “Can you help?”
“I’m still retired,” the Ghost said, shaking her head as the music picked up again. She turned to walk away. “And I’m not risking myself to solve your political drama. Goodbye, Irene.”
Reaching out, Irene caught her hand. The Ghost turned, facing her, and Irene bit her lip. “One more song. Hear me out.”
She raised an eyebrow, considering the offer. “One more.”
“I can pay you, well,” Irene said, as they stepped back onto the dance floor, hands on each other’s hips.
The Ghost continued to lead. “I don’t need money.”
“Not money. The national museum has more than a couple artifacts you would be interested in seeing sent home. I have the sway to get them returned to their countries of origin,” Irene promised her. “Legally, and with proper documentation. There won’t be any objections, no need for secrecy.”
That caught the Ghost’s interest, as they clasped hands and stalked across the floor in tandem. “I’m listening.”
“You’ll prevent a diplomatic disaster,” Irene continued. “And I’d be in your debt, personally.”
The Ghost nodded, considering it. “I’ll need a team. I won’t need payment, but they might.”
“I can come up with money. How much are we talking?”
“You want to break into a national bank. I’ll need three people, plus myself. I have a colleague who can fly in on short notice. She’ll do it for fifty thousand, plus expenses.”
Irene did the math in her head, and nodded. “That’s fine. Who’s the other two people?”
“I’ve got a local contact, but they’ll work for free.”
“Okay. Who else?”
“You,” the Ghost smirked. “You’ll be with us every step of the way. And, to prove your conviction, you’ll do something for me before the job.”
Blinking, Irene looked around the room, as though she was suddenly worried that someone would start listening in. “What? I can’t get the art moved until-”
“Not the art.” The Ghost looked down, one finger tracing the edge of Irene’s diaper. “Tomorrow, at six PM, I’ll send you a message with an address. You’ll arrive within half an hour for our planning session. Until then, you won’t change your diaper.”
Irene turned pink. “What? Why?”
“Because I think you’re pretty when you blush,” the Ghost replied. “And if I’m doing this, you’re going to make the job properly fun. If you’re so concerned about your dignity, you can find someone else.”
Chewing her lip, Irene thought about the question. “Why do you need me?”
“You’ve got a long standing account with the bank. That’ll get us information we couldn’t easily get otherwise.” The Ghost tilted her head. “I’m still piecing the plan together, but you’ll be integral, and you’ll be in diapers, because I want it that way.”
Irene knew she didn’t have a choice. She could go along with the Ghost, or she could give up on ever getting back the- “I’ll do it.”
“Don’t try and cheat,” the Ghost whispered. “I’ll know. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
She stepped away, bowed slightly, and then drifted away across the dance floor, vanishing through the exit.
Irene swallowed. What am I getting myself into?
…
Cassandra was furious as she wiped herself up, leaning against the wall in the restroom stall. She hated changing in public. She hated that she was this good at changing in public, that she’d had enough experience wiping up her own dirty diapers in the past six months that she’d gotten used to it.
Her dress was hanging on the stall door, to make sure it stayed clean while she changed. As she taped on her fresh diaper, she heard bathroom door swing open, and paused.
Footsteps approached her stall, and a wire slipped between the door and the frame, flipping the lock open.
The Ghost pushed open the door. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”
Leaning against the wall in just her bra and a diaper, Cassandra turned pink. “You- What?!”
“Not like that,” the Ghost rolled her eyes. “You want to take me in? I’ll put on handcuffs and fly with you to any country you want. First, though, I need you to do something for me.”
If you enjoyed this, consider supporting me over on Patreon! You can read part two to this story a week early, and also you help me afford stuff like food and diapers! 
https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling
Art by SnowPowder
