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Jay had spent some time chatting with me last night, and it was imperative that he didn’t recognize me. I covered my scattering of freckles with liquid foundation and applied a range of blue shadows to my eyes, hoping to detract from my green irises. I thickened my eyelashes and darkened my cheeks.
A quick glance confirmed my transformation into Memphis was underway.
The black sequin dress I wore last time was not an option; it’d been a disaster I’d like to forget. But I didn’t want to wear the French maid costume, either; it had already outlived its projected lifespan, and it didn’t seem appropriate for my rendezvous with the young brainiac.
I rummaged through my wardrobe and settled on a pink and cream cotton dress with shoestring straps and an elastic waist. It had a lovely summer feel to it.
And it was easy to remove.
I chose my new long blonde wig to compliment the sweet, fresh look I was going for. Although, my over-the-top makeup enhanced the look to seductive. At least that’s what I hoped for anyway.
I parted my hair and formed two long plaits, just like the woman in the shop had shown me, to make fitting the wig easier. She’d been able to massage the wig onto my head in seconds.
Not me though, I struggled to hide all my unruly dark wisps of hair. Obviously, there was a trick to putting on a wig that I’d totally missed. Eventually, it was in position, and I looked in the mirror to confirm none of my dark hair escaped beneath the blonde.
A different person looked back at me.
The transformation was complete. I don’t think Lolita would even recognize me. I plumped my boobs up in the white strapless bra and dabbed on Pinky Promise liquid matt lipstick.
My shoe choice today was a pair of killer stilettos that matched the lipstick color perfectly, and they came with eight-inch silver spike heels that could double as a weapon if needed.
Although, with my green belt in karate, I knew enough moves to take out any man should the need ever arise.
I grabbed my bag, and with the sounds of the women still screaming from below, I planted a smile on my face and left my room.
Jay was on the first floor, but I did the same trick I did last time, going up several floors before I returned down to his level. In my head it made sense—something about keeping my identity hidden. Or maybe I’m just a complete nutter!
I strode to Jay’s room and knocked.
After a long pause, I was just about to knock again when Jay opened the door.
His hair was scrambled, and he wore just a pair of red jockey underpants. His skin was evenly tanned, young and supple, and as expected, there wasn’t one wrinkle on his young face.
What I hadn’t expected was how nicely developed his stomach muscles were.
Maybe my initial thoughts of him being a surfer weren’t so far off after all.
I felt like I’d stepped onto the set of a movie.
A porno movie, maybe.
“Morning, sunshine,” I said. “May I come in?”
Blinking like he wondered if he was dreaming, he stepped aside. “Okay.”
I strode into the room, put my bag on his table, and turned, ready for his reaction.
He cleared his throat. “Who are you?”
“Who . . . is not the right question.” I opened the blinds, allowing the golden sunshine to flood the room.
Squinting against the glare, he rubbed his left eye. “Huh? What’s the right question, then?”
I undid the string tie at my waist and swung the belt in a circle. “You should ask what I want.”
He huffed. “If you’re after money, you chose the wrong room.”
I tossed my belt on the floor and made a show of removing my pink stiletto from my right foot. “Do I look like I’m after money?”
