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And then briefly at my own less womanly figure. I grimace.
“Stop it,” she warns. “There are millions of women out there that would kill for what you’re rocking.”
Letting her words flow through me, I shrug off my robe and reach for the dress.
Blakely and I are long past having any issues being naked around each other. We’ve lived in each other’s pockets all our lives. It’s no big thing for her, she’s used to letting others see her body, it was a bigger deal for me when I started developing. I hid my body as best I could for a few years, though the modesty only lasted so long. Blakely never said anything, I knew she understood. But slowly, I found a way to trust her like she does with me.
“I know you’re going all out with this, but please tell me you’re going to put some knickers on,” she teases as I step into the dress and pull the skintight top half up my legs.
“Yes, obviously,” I snidely reply. “Massive ones if I get my way.”
She chuckles as I finally get the dress into place.
My tits don’t fill it half as well as hers would and my waist isn’t as cinched, and I might feel like a complete freaking moron. But then, I look up at myself in the mirror, and I frown at the reflection staring back at me.
“What’s wrong?” Blakely asks hesitantly.
My lips part to say something but I can’t muster up any words for a few seconds.
“I look…” Her brows lift as she waits. “I look… hot,” I confess, feeling a little weird about it.
“Finally,” Blakley announces with a wide, proud smile on her face. “I’ve been telling you this for years.”
I continue to stare at myself in the mirror in total shock that the person staring back at me is actually me.
Is this what others see when they look at me?
No, it can’t be.
I shake my head, my eyes catch on my thick-rimmed glasses that are sitting on the dressing table on top of my tablet and I’m reminded of the girl everyone else sees—or not, as the case may be.
I’m the geek, the weird artist. The one everyone overlooks.
I’m not the hot girl in the mirror wearing a skimpy Santa dress that’s ready to head out to entertain rich old men at their festive poker night.
A shudder rips down my spine as I think about the eyes that are going to be on me tonight. It’s almost enough to have me pulling my robe back on and crawling into bed.
But I can’t. We need this money as much as Blakely doesn’t need to lose this job.
So, I suck in a little more strength and rummage through my sister’s tiny underwear collection—and I don’t mean tiny to describe the quantity, more the size of each item—and when I find a red thong with a glittery bow, I suck down my apprehension and pull it on.
Next are the red fishnets that attach to straps hanging from the waistband of the dress and a pair of her stripper heels. They’re a little too small and pinch my feet but it’s too late to turn back now.
“Perfect,” my sister praises. “Just… don’t bend over.”
Standing in front of the mirror once more, I do just that, and gasp when I see everything—and I do mean everything—on display.
My heart thumps in my chest and I start to sweat.
This is such a bad idea, I’m really starting to second-guess my decision.
“You’re just a server tonight, Evie. There will be other girls dancing in way less than you’re wearing. The men will go for them.”
“But what if they—”
“Smile politely and move away. I’m not going to sit here and pretend that you’re about to spend the night with decent men, Ev. But also, they’re not the worst I deal with on a regular basis and I have every confidence you can hold your own.”
“I didn’t think you wanted me to do this.”
