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A text pops up from the woman in question. It reads like a drill sergeant putting me through beauty school boot camp.
Remember the earrings and wear your hair up, but loose. You want your sexy lil collarbone to pop and wear the bra I gave you for your birthday. For the love of god, match it with your cute peep toe wedges, and don’t forget to shave your legs.
More dots start bouncing as she continues to type.
Have you trimmed up down below lately?
I should have booked you a wax.
Why couldn’t he give me more time to get you ready???
The urge to roll my eyes at her through my phone screen is overwhelming. But I know she only means well.
Yes, mother.
I shoot back my reply.
Then, I shimmy into the midnight blue gown, which hugs my curves perfectly, and with thick enough fabric that it doesn’t feel clingy. The straps are delicate and show off my tattoo sleeve to its fullest extent.
We went back and forth, trying to choose between this dress and one with long sleeves that would have concealed my tattoos. But I didn’t want to hide; if these rich assholes can’t handle some artwork on the skin, then Mr. Thorne Calliano had better think twice before inviting me to another event with him.
The deep blue compliments my skin tone and sets off my lilac curls perfectly. I do as my drill sergeant says, sweeping my hair into a simple updo with loose strands framing my face. I add the gold drop earrings and triple check I haven’t missed any stubble on my shins as I slip into my wedge heels.
Approved?
I snap a photo in my mirror and receive a flurry of heart-eye reactions immediately.
If he doesn’t bang your brains out tonight, he’s an idiot.
Anyone who can resist you does not deserve to breathe the same air as you.
I’d do you. *wink face*
Don’t know how I’d ever manage without you.
I know, right?
She sends me a meme of a troll.
Bitch.
Another image comes through, this time it’s a devil wearing a halo.
My alarm goes off, which means shit is about to get real. In five minutes, my ridiculously suave date will be picking me up, if he isn’t already waiting outside.
Quickly scooping up my phone, wallet, and keys, I stuff them all in the matching clutch I got today to go with the dress. Honestly, I tried to refuse, but it was easier to agree to add the clutch to the eye-watering bill than the sheer lingerie Em was trying to force me into getting.
I point-blank refused to have a total stranger buy me a pair of designer panties and matching see-through bra. It felt way too Pretty Woman for my liking, and I’d rather crawl in a hole than have him think I bought lingerie specifically for him.
The irony being that I would very much like him to peel me out of this dress at the end of the night, so maybe I should have just embraced my inner slut and gone all out with the high-end lacy lingerie after all.
It’s Saturday night, and there’s a handsome devil standing outside my front door.
He’s wrapped in an immaculate midnight blue suit; collar propped open to reveal that alluring stubble-coated throat of his. With a soul-eating stare in his eyes, he takes in my appearance in one long glide from head to toe.
I’m not entirely convinced I don’t look like a hot mess. But the way this fabric falls over my skin makes my tits look amazing, with a sultry neckline that scoops down, not to mention the cut does wonderful things for my ass.
Now that I see what Thorne is wearing, I’m glad this one was my eventual choice. We’re obviously not going anywhere near the parts of the city I’m used to frequenting on my shoestring budget.
