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I just stared at him for a long moment.
Until finally, he pressed again. “Do you accept, Miss Morgan?”
“Are you for real?”
A small smirk quirked the older man’s lips. “I assure you, Miss Morgan, I am very much real. As is the invitation you received yesterday. Do you accept?”
I swallowed hard, then laughed and brushed my hair back from my face, leaning out and looking around. Where were the cameras? Where was the man jumping out saying this was all a joke or some sort of weird reality show?
There was no one there, though. Just Jeeves here, and for once, a quiet trailer park. At this time of morning, everyone was still sleeping it off from the night before. But soon they’d start waking up, and what would I say if anybody saw this guy?
“I thought the invitation said attendance was mandatory.” Was I stalling for time while I tried to figure out what to do? Yes, yes, I was.
The Jeeves lookalike just looked at me cryptically. “There’s always a choice.” Then he was back to his same old line: “Do you accept?”
There was a rustling down the way. Damn it. Mrs. Brown always was an early riser. She loved nothing more than spreading gossip around the park community. This fancy guy in his fancy tux standing outside my door at 9 a.m.? By noon the whole town would know if I didn’t get rid of him fast.
So, I made a split decision. It was all probably still a hoax anyway.
“I accept.” I yanked the huge box away from Jeeves, pulled it in the house, and slammed the door closed in his face.
Ten minutes later, my jaw was still on the floor.
It was the most exquisite dress I’d ever seen.
I thought I’d seen fancy dresses before—at the mall, and once when I went to Atlanta and walked beside some upscale shops. I mean, some of those dresses were over $100. I’d even dared touch one dress that was $180.
But this dress…
I reached out with the tip of my index finger to caress the delicate little gemstones hand-stitched onto the bodice but then pulled back at the last second. What if the oils on my finger damaged it? It seemed like a work of art that I might screw up at any moment.
I immediately ran to the kitchen sink and washed my hands and then washed them again.
Then I came back to the box.
Holding my breath, I lifted the dress out of the box. My breath caught. I’d never held anything so luxurious or beautiful in my entire life.
It was a dress for a princess. Like some Disney shit but in real life.
My hands shook as I held the gown up to myself. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like it was a perfect fit. Not a sample size, but the size of an actual human woman with hips and a bust.
How did they know my size?
I glanced back down in the box and my eyes opened wider. It wasn’t just the dress. There were also underthings inside.
I looked around for somewhere to put the dress down, but nowhere in my dingy trailer seemed clean enough.
Finally, I took it to my bedroom, pulled back the comforter, and laid it down on the sheets. I’d just put new ones on, wanting to exorcise Kyle from the place. It was the cleanest spot in the house.
With one lingering glance at the dress, I scurried back to the box and bent over it again.
I swallowed hard and slowly reached down inside. The dress had been a dainty, pale blue.
But the underthings? They were siren red.
First, I picked up the bra. It was a fairly standard push-up balcony bra. It would make my tits look great. But then there was also a freaking corset. An actual corset.
I frowned and picked up a few stringy bits left at the bottom. What on earth…
I dropped it immediately again when I realized it was the itsy bitsiest thong I’d ever seen in my life. And were those… stockings and a garter belt?
I breathed out long and low.
Holy shit. If this was all… real… then I was in way over my head.
Wasn’t I?
Because the dress might be Cinderella, but all this stuff was much more in line with Anne Rice’s dirty version of Sleeping Beauty. Yes, I read the books. Yes, they were hot as hell.
But I’d only had sex with a few boys. High school boyfriends and then Kyle. And while occasionally Kyle liked it doggie style, most of my experience was pretty vanilla. One high school boyfriend was addicted to porn and had a difficult time staying hard for me—an actual live girl—so we did it a few times, but he preferred blow jobs. Kyle usually just climbed on top and hammered away until he finished, got tired, or passed out. I got off sometimes, though more in the beginning than any time in the last year.
