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Next came my face. No easy feat. But Maria worked wonders, my eyebrows reshaped, my face creamed and softened, and then she provided me with a complexion-matched makeup kit that set me back a small fortune. My hair was cut and styled, lowlights and highlights run through in a spectrum of browns from light golds to deep chestnut.
Each thing was subtle, only a slight enhancement but all put together the effect was a good one. I felt so much more confident suddenly.
My next stop was shopping hell. I actually didn’t mind shopping; I was a take it or leave it, person. I could enjoy it for the right things and despise it for others. Clothes were not usually something I loved but I didn’t despise them either. I was very much on the fence with it.
What I wasn’t a fan of was the late-night complex mall. I worked in sterile units, glaring overheads and a world of no natural light. Coming here was not my idea of a relaxing time. I wasn’t sure how anyone could sit in the faux gardens in the middle and sip coffee as though they were actually outside. To me, it all felt wrong and I preferred to brave the weather and elements on the high street. Unfortunately, though the indoor mall was open a lot later and was certainly more convenient in this instance.
I made my way into the big department store and headed straight for the lingerie. I figured I would start with the last thing to come off. The thought of taking my clothes off in front of Arya both terrified and excited me. I thumbed through the racks but I already felt overwhelmed. There were pieces of cotton, silks, chiffon, lace, ribbons, clasps, leather, ties. Those were just the materials, the styles were endless … panties, boy short, thong, briefs, thong, g string, peek a boo. Then that was just thinking of each of them as one-off pieces. But it didn’t work like that, they need to be matched and partnered with a bra, corset, stockings, suspenders.
Basically, I was out of my depth.
I normally hate it when someone approaches me in a store … I think why can’t they just leave me alone and let me look in peace at my own pace? But not today. Today, I practically pounced on the young assistant the moment her eyes made the slightest contact with mine.
“Can I help you, Ma’am?” She asked softly in an unassuming way and I felt an instant relief.
“God, yes please. I need some underwear. For a…. for a… um.. first date.”
Her name was Ashlyn. No idea how it is spelled but it sounded pretty. She was American natively but moved here in her early teens due to her father’s work. I don’t know if she told me these things to calm me as she surveyed my figure with a critical eye but it worked.
“Hmmm, you’re very slim, tall, toned. Not a lot of curves but we can allude to that … really, I think you can pull off most styles. It is more about the image you want to project you know … Are you feel cute? Sweet? Sassy?” She leaned in a little closer with a smirk “Dominant?”
“Christ, no. Nothing like that.” I replied in a total flustered and she smiled.
“I am just joking with you.” She said playfully. “But really, how do you want to feel?”
“I want to feel sexy,” I say in a strong voice and she nods.
“Sexy we can absolutely do for you, Juliet. Coming right up.”
I mistakenly took the “coming right up” as a this was going to be a quick job, but it was anything but. In actual fact, it took about two hours before I finally felt like we had pieced together the look I wanted for my first sexual journey with a woman. And after baking under the neon-like glare for that long, it took a little imagination to see the sexy through the flushed skin and slumped limbs.
Ashlyn was very direct, whilst wrapped up in a sweet southern charm. She gave me a sweet smile as she shook her head, a complement would come as she told me that under no uncertain terms would that style really work for me. She seemed to have sex practicalities down to a T too …
“It won’t be practical.” She dismissed the corset. “Unless you’re wearing them solely to rip them off … don’t bother.” She waved away the suspender combination. “I like the heels but how tall is your date because you’re already pretty tall …” Her voice veered off as she confirmed I would in fact tower above Arya.
Once we were both, Ashlyn was more than me, happy at the chosen pieces she wrapped them carefully and handed them over with a huge smile. “Over them … get something simple. Nothing too fancy, just sleek you know. If you are showing your legs, cover your chest. If you are showing some breast …” She said with a wink. “Cover the pins. Let him work for it, don’t give it away too easy, the prize is underneath, and I don’t mean the fancy undies. I mean you. Also … think about the actual stripping off … If it is too tight, too delicate, it will be a pain you will be feeling nervous. Am I making some kinda sense?” She said with a huge smile.
I nodded and thanked her profusely before hurrying off to the womenswear section.
I followed her advice; I went for a simple black dress. The fabric was light like sheen and hung sexily from my chest and fell in soft cascades down to my ankles. It hid my figure but then revealed my curves and lines every time I moved. I felt good in it, sexy and beautiful which is how every dress should make a woman feel.
I paid for it all and I didn’t even look. It had probably been the most money I had ever spend on my personal appearance in one day, but I didn’t really care. Sometimes it was needed, that splurge to make us feel good about ourselves, I just hoped Arya would think it was a worthwhile investment.
Tuesday dragged and I don’t say that often about a full day in the hospital. I went from meeting to meeting, but each one was drawn out so I watched the hand move around the clock in slow motion. Everyone was on go slow. There was no urgency or rush, my secretary could feel my discontent and kept a healthy distance, which I understood but only exasperated me more because then I had to hunt him down just to get him to do what I needed, which I could have done myself in the time it took to find him.
If Arya was in my orbit, we never connected. I looked for her at lunch but she never appeared and, in a way, I was pleased. I felt the nerves rising throughout the day and seeing her in this capacity may well have been enough to totally derail me. I forked through my pasta but I didn’t take a bite, feeling my stomach swirl with nerves, anticipation, and doubts.
I didn’t rush home from the hospital. I really want to take my time getting ready. I don’t want to feel stressed or rushed and I have a couple of hours, so I run a nice hot bath. I shrug my shoulders, letting my robe fall on the bathroom tiles. Raising my leg, a pink painted toe skims coconut scented bubbles across the steaming water. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath before I sink into the tub. The water caresses my naked body, pinking my pale skin ... Flushes spread across my chest as I softly lather myself.
I cover my fingers in shampoo, my fingertips massage my scalp as I work up a thick almond lather before I slip under the surface to wash it all out.
I leave the bath and I reach for a thick white towel. Wrapping myself up in its soft warmth as my nails trail through wet curls. Bare feet pad along plush carpets as I head to the dressing table. Running the dryer through my hair, letting chestnut curls fall in loose rings over my shoulders with soft bounces. It has been such a very long time since I have done this- made myself beautiful for someone. Looking in the mirror I take my time. The sweep of foundation, the brush of a blush, a flick of kohl, a smudge of shadow, curling my lashes, and finally deep red paints across my lips. Slutty? Maybe, but I like it.
Standing slowly, I drape the towel over the rack. Flicking through drawers I pull out the stockings, tan. Resting my toes on the chair I run the glossy sheen up my smooth legs until the black lace tops stick tight to my thighs. Pulling on the tiny red panties that barely cover my ass, the undercurve of my cheeks left bare, lace that kisses the parts of me that were freshly waxed yesterday and rests on my hip bone.
I take the matching bra. A size a tiny bit too small so when the clasp clips tight my breasts spill over the cups, begging to be freed. I reach into the closet, taking out my black dress. It's beautiful, a piece of art in its own right. Slipping into its soft silk, pulling the zip up along my side, it nips me in tight at the chest, before following my curves, accentuating them, thin straps rest on my shoulders.
The length is long, falling to the floor but the slit, less so. Rising to the tops of my stockings so when I walk a flash of lace is teased. Slipping glossy stockinged feet into strappy sandals I bend and fasten the strap, a caress of tight leather against my anklebone. Standing tall, I smooth out non-existent creases as I stare in the mirror.
