“Yeah, it’ll be fun though.” Taking her glasses off her face, she lets them dangle from the chain attached to each arm and grabs a sassy pair of white heels from another rack. Then she drags over a stool to the vanity where the bright lights must be illuminating every pore on my face. “Here, sit down. We’ve gotta be quick so we’ll just put a little on.”
I sit on the stool and raise my eyebrows at her as I smile. Moving her glasses from the shelf of her breasts, she secures them snugly against the bridge of her nose and tilts her head from side to side. A big grin spreads across her face. “Yup,” she says, then winks at me, saying nothing more. Before I know what she’s even doing, she’s put moderate false eyelashes on me, given me a slight smokey eye, and dabbed on a deep burgundy lipstick.
“Okay, now go throw this on. Be careful of your lips.” She hands me the jumpsuit and points me to the curtain of the dressing area.
I put on the jumpsuit and the silky fabric feels luxurious against my skin. I don’t wear clothes like this, but I’d love to. The plunge of the neckline is way lower than anything I’d wear and my non-existent cleavage certainly doesn’t fill the plunge. If that wasn’t enough to make me uncomfortable, there are thigh-high slits on the front of both legs. There’s no mirror in here so I can’t see the full effect of what’s going on, but I know I can’t walk out from behind this curtain.
Holding the curtain around my neck, I pop my head out. “Um, Tina? Do you have something, uh, a little less…”
“Revealing?” She finishes my thought. “No, dear. Not with me.” She gives me an understanding smile. “Come on out. Let’s see.”
“Um, give me a sec, okay?” I shrink back behind the curtain and try to find the guts to step out and let anyone see me in this getup. I don’t have the body or personality for an outfit like this. Candi would look sensational in it. Growing up, she blossomed into her body early, while puberty skipped me.
Before I can even try to plan an escape, Candi comes in with half a shot glass filled.
As soon as she sees me, she lets out a whistle. “Damn. You look fuckin’ hot,” she coos, handing me the shot glass. “You’re wearingthistonight.”
“I can’t wear this out.” I refute, adjusting the thin spaghetti strap on my shoulder.
“Oh, yes you can and youare.”
“I look ridiculous,” I say, downing the half-shot. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”
“Okay, come on. Let’s get this moving along. We have a birthday to celebrate.” She grabs my hand and I follow her out and over to the setup where Nicco is standing and waiting.
The backdrop is a light and dark gray floral fabric and long strings of crystal baubles hang from above. A massive, 8-foot-tall mirror stands in the corner, it’s silver frame intricately carved and detailed with crystals and pearls. What looks like a refurbished vintage burgundy brocade chair sits in front of the mirror on a light gray shag carpet.
As we approach him, Nicco’s eyes are on me, a quick sweep from my feet to my face. His eyes blink and he pulls in his lips, then runs the barely visible tip of his tongue between his slightly parted lips. He must be holding back a laugh. I knew it. Idolook ridiculous. Candi releases my hand and walks into her setup.
“Okay, we’re almost ready. Nicco.” She looks up at him. “I want you just a little bit shiny.” She grabs a bottle of oil from a nearby table.
Before I can say anything, she takes my hand in hers and squeezes a few drops of oil into my palm. I look down into my hand and then back up at her. She’s out of her mind if she thinks I’m going to rub my oil-covered hands on this sexy man’s chest.
No…freaking…way.
“Okay, you do this. I need to make a couple adjustments to my cameras.” She turns and walks away, leaving me standing there with a palm full of oil.
With my hand held open, I look up at him, pretty certain that the expression on my face reveals how terrified I am. I have no poker face.
“You look beautiful.” The baritone timbre of his voice shoots a shiver from the tail of my spine all the up to the base of my head.
Right, I look beautiful. As compared to the gorgeous, voluptuous women he’s surrounded by daily and probably has wild, passionate sex with. His playboy reputation precedes him. “You don’t have to mock me.”
He squints his eyes. “What does it mean, mock? I don’t know this word.”
I’m forgetting that English isn’t his first language. “It means to make fun of,” I say, looking down into my hands and rubbing the oil between my palms, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with him. “I’ll just, uh, try to warm this up a little for you.”
“Why do you say I’m making fun?”
I continue rubbing my hands and slow my pace, still avoiding his eyes. ”It’s just, well, you’re around beautiful women all the time. And…” I’m now rubbing my fingers together as my tongue twists around inside my mouth. “I’m not…”
In one gentle movement, he curls his large index finger under my chin and lifts my face toward his. Our eyes lock. I don’t move. A tiny gasp hitches deep in my chest.
“You are beautiful.” His reverence stuns me.
Two arms wrap around mine from behind me, grabbing and twisting my wrists. “It’s warm,” Candi says as she separates my hands and smacks them onto Nicco’s chest. I snap my head toward her as she walks away saying, “Let’s go.”
Oh God, oh God, oh God. ”I’m, I’m sorry.” I look back up into his smokey eyes.
