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A charmer if I’d ever met one.
“Yep,” I said through gritted teeth.
I’m doing this for the kids. I’m doing this for the kids, I chanted over and over so I didn’t punch her in the face or run screaming out of the room.
“This way, please,” she sighed, leading me down a hallway and into rooms filled with makeshift mirrored stations. There weren’t many girls in the room; the auction was going to be over pretty soon.
Maybe they wouldn’t need me after all?
“We have one dress left,” she said, gesturing to a garment back hanging at one of the stations. A pretty blonde with her hair in a neat chignon, clad in a sparkling gold dress, eyed me in the mirror. At least she wasn’t wrinkling her nose at me.
Progress.
“Put on the dress…try and…fix your face. And you’re up at the end,” the woman said before turning to leave.
I reached out, practically clawing at her arm. “Sorry—did you say I was up at the end?” I asked, panic dripping from my words.
She smiled—well, it was definitely more of a “it’s going to be hilarious to watch you up on stage” kind of smirk. “You’re at the end. Don’t mess up my schedule.”
She shrugged off my hand that I belatedly realized had still been holding on to her and stalked away.
“Isn’t this so fun?” the blonde gushed, powdering her nose.
“So fun,” I repeated numbly, turning my attention back to the garment bag.
At least I didn’t have to wear my uniform up there.
I pulled the zipper down, revealing a gorgeous, sparkly black cocktail dress, the fabric a rich, lustrous black that seemed to absorb the ambient light, making it even more alluring. It was…stunning, the kind of dress that I had never dreamed of wearing.
Except there was one small problem.
It was at least a size too small.
“Do you know if there are any dresses available?” I asked the blonde.
“That’s the last one. I think it was too big for most of the girls,” she said innocently.
Of course it was too big for them.
Of courseeeee.
I moved behind a privacy partition and stripped off my work clothes. Taking a deep inhale, I stepped into the dress, inching it up as far as it could go.
Fuck.
I stared at myself in the mirror, wondering if my work uniform would be a better bet.
The dress clung to me like a second skin, every seam and stitch straining to contain the curves of my body. With each delicate tug and careful adjustment, I fought to stuff myself into the dress, the fabric protesting with a faint but persistent groan.
Hey, at least it zipped.
I stared at myself in the mirror, shaking my head at the sight. I was fine with it accentuating my curves.
But my boobs…they were now defying gravity, spilling outeverywhere.
My nipples were basically an inch from popping out.
Good thing the dress was so tight, I guess.
