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“Dang,” Trina says, tapping her lips with a manicured finger. “I thought the sheer tights with the line down the back would up the sex factor.”
“Oh, they do,” Simone says. “She looks very bang-able—”
“‘Bang-able?’” I arch a brow.
“—if you were going to bang her in her corner office,” Simone finishes, not paying me any mind.
“No one’s banging anyone tonight,” I say.
“Keep your options open, girl,” Simone says.
“You’re saying I should have sex on the first date?”
“I’m saying you shouldn’t say youwon’t,” she answers, tilting her head from side to side. “Just see how it goes!”
“Agreed,” Fiona adds with a decisive nod. “But not in that outfit.”
“Okay. Back in the room.” Trina ushers me into the bedroom and directs me to the second outfit. This one is a chunky sweater with tight jeans and lots of gold jewelry. She shows the ladies, gathering my hair up in a ponytail to give them an idea of the rest of the styling.
This is also shot down, this time for being too casual.
“We want this guy to lose his mind,” Fiona complains. “She’s not going out for coffee. She’s going to a candlelit dinner. Give us cleavage, Trina!”
“I like this outfit!” I protest, throwing my hands out. “It’s comfy. And I can wear my gold hoop earrings. I love these earrings.”
“You can be comfy with him later,” Simone informs me. “Right now, you need to be a bombshell.”
“Hmm,” Trina says, eyes narrowing on me. “Maybe Simone is right.”
“Of course I’m right!”
“I like this outfit,” I repeat. “These boots are comfy. Those other heels are a broken ankle waiting to happen.”
My protests fall on deaf ears as Candice looks at her sister. “Trina, you can do better.”
Trina hums. “I know.” She looks at me with narrowed eyes. “I’ve been giving your opinions too much weight, Mia.”
“I’mthe one wearing the clothes! I would hope you’d listen to my opinion.”
“Hush. You’re throwing me off my game.”
Laughing, I head back in the room with Trina. She expertly flicks through my closet, stopping on a dress I haven’t worn in alongtime. It cost me more money than I care to admit, and every time I’ve done a purge of my closet over the years, I haven’t been able to get rid of it. Deceptively flattering with thick fabric and cleverly placed seams, the dress is brilliant in its simplicity. It has thick shoulder straps, a subtle sweetheart neckline, and a body-con silhouette with a touch of ruching around the hips. It’s insanely flattering.
“Little black dress,” Trina says, touching the fabric. “Can’t go wrong.”
For some reason, my heart picks up. As Trina leaves me to get dressed, I look at the black fabric lying across the bed and take a deep breath. Wearing this dress is really putting myself out there. There’s no way to pretend that I’m not trying hard, or that I see myself as old and over the hill and undesirable. If I put this dress on and go out on a blind date, I’m telling everyone who sees me that I think I’m sexy, and I’m not afraid of showing it.
Do I think that? Can I still wear this dress?
Throat tight, I grab seamless undies and hesitate. I’m wearing my same old nude bra—the one that’s worn around the edges and a little bit stretched out in the band. It would be wrong to wear ugly undergarments beneaththatdress. So, I strip my bra off and find one of the lacy numbers I brought over from my old apartment. I have a subtle push-up bra with lace trim that will work. I dress quickly, slip my feet into the borrowed stilettos, and walk out into the living room.
Conversation stops dead. I smooth my hands over my hips, breathing deeply, and meet my new friends’ gazes.
Simone whistles. Fiona beams. Candice claps.
Trina has literal tears in her eyes. She clasps her hands at her breast and shakes her head. “Gosh, I’m good.”
I laugh. “I’m guessing this is it.”
