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Between now and the moment before we left, my panties are wet and slick to the point that they would show through my skirt if I sat down in them. I’ve never had to deal with something like this before, and I’m both nervous and excited that Dominik might notice.
I lead him down the massive hallway to the designer dress shop at the end of this wing of the mall. Usually I don’t need to go to malls – my father always pays for tailored outfits for every occasion. But this time, I’m being forced to abide by the dress code of the person hosting the event, and they need me wearing these specific shoes to match the dress they chose for me.
When we walk into the store, it takes Dominik a moment to gather himself before he starts to poke around at the price tags hidden in the garments. “Do people actually pay this kind of money for this shit?” he asks incredulously, his eyes wide in disbelief.
“What, you mean off the rack? Yeah, that’s what you get when you can’t afford for them to design your dress themselves,” I reply, amused that he’s so blown away by the prices of clothes that I could wear once and throw away.
He opens his mouth to respond, but his jaw just hangs as he struggles to articulate his confusion.
I approach one of the sales associates at the front desk, an impossibly thin woman no older than twenty-seven who has ballooned her face with filler and Botox. She tries to smile as I walk up to her, but it looks like the kind of smile you’d give if you received soap as a birthday gift.
“Hi, how can I help you?” she asks in a chirpy sales voice.
I hold up my phone and show her a photo of the dress and shoes that have been put aside for me. “I need to try these on. If they fit right the first time, I’ll just buy them outright.”
She tries to raise her eyebrows in vain. “Oh! I’ve seen that one. It just came through from the seamstress. It’s lovely. Hang on, I can go get it for you and have a fitting room opened up.”
She teeters away on stilettos that she probably had to have financed, and I truly feel sorry for her. I’d hate to be in a position where I had topretendto be rich while getting paid bullshit wages.
There’s a moment of silence between Dominik and me again, and I can feel a magnetic urge to place my arms around his waist. I just want to benearhim, and not in the authoritative, tough-love kind of way that he has been. I want to feel his warmth, to smell his skin, to feel his tongue-
“What even is this event that you’re going to? Do I have to go?” Dominik asks, glancing around the store as a flock of blonde stay-at-home wives walk through the heavy glass doors.
“I don’t know, and I don’t know. My father’s business partners are always having these bullshit events, probably to claim the expense as charity and keep the IRS off their backs. I’m not sure, but they’re usually full of people like that,” I reply as I tip my head towards a middle-aged woman with bolt-on tits and three-inch acrylic nails. “Just a bunch of rich assholes showing off how rich they are.”
Before he has a chance to respond, the associate brings over a dress bag and a shoe box. “Here you go. Just let me know if you need any help, okay? There’s a button on the wall in the fitting room that we’ve opened for you.”
I thank her, taking the bag and shoes as I feel the slick warmth of anticipation rubbing between my thighs. It’s so awkward to be talking to this poor woman while I’m practically in heat, but it’s become abundantly clear that there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
Dominik follows close behind as we walk to the back of the store, entering the open fitting room and hanging the bag on the back of the door.
“Are you going to come in with me?” I ask as Dominik sits down in the waiting area. “I could have drugs in my purse for all you know.”
He gives me a wary side-eye, weighing the risks of following a young woman into a dressing room. However, he knows that if there wereanyissues that arose while I was with him, his head would be shot into the sun with a civil war cannon.
Begrudgingly, he gets up and follows me.
I’ve tried not to notice, but he’ll adjust his pants every few minutes since we got back to the fitting area. I try to put it out of my mind, but my eyes flicker downwards every time I feel like he isn’t paying attention.
There are mirrors wall-to-wall in this room, which means that he can’t just turn around and wait while I change. He has to watch me.
If I thought my face was red before we left, I was sorely mistaken. My cheeks flush a heavy vermilion red, and my pulse begins to race in my chest and throat.
“You’ll have to watch me,” I say with as little emotion as possible. This is all happening so fast.
Our eyes meet, and I see a shadow cast over his as something begins to overtake him. Perhaps I’m watching his judgment dissolve as he resigns himself to his true nature.
His eyes drift down at my collarbones peeking out of the neckline of my shirt before I begin to remove it. I feel like I’ve been bathed in pure heat, as if my desire has plunged me into a new plane of blood orange and opium.
The white lace of my unlined bra just barely conceals my nipples, the peachy pastel flesh showing through just enough to be obscene to the puritanical eye. But Dominik’s eyes remain fixed on mine, as if he’s showing me that what he wants isn’t my body, butme.
“The dress is strapless, so I’m going to take this off now,” I say awkwardly as my voice trembles.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he replies, just above a whisper.
I begin to unclasp the back of my bra, and his gaze turns from curious warmth to fevered lust. “Don’t fucking do that.”
There it is. There’s the warning that I will choose to heed or forsake. This is the moment that I’ll either do the right thing or allow my flesh to consume me.
