Page 107 of Total Exposure

And then I look up at the chandelier and say, “OK.”

I walk over to the gifts, lay the box marked One down onto the foyer rug, and kneel. My fingers can’t help but feel the rich, golden ribbon. It’s not smooth satin, but has a raised damask pattern woven into the silk. Very special, I realize. And very expensive.

I pull on it, expecting it to resist, but it doesn’t. The knot falls apart easily, like it was meant to do that, and soon it’s just a puddle of gold near my knees.

The box has a lid meant to lift off. Again, without resistance. And when I lift it, there is a swoosh of air which makes the black and gold tissue paper inside puff up with a display of splendorous pageantry.

My fingers are eager now, pulling the delicate paper aside to reveal a dress.

“Oh, my,” I sigh, lifting the dress out of the paper so I can hold it up to the light filtering in from the high, arched windows above the door.

It’s white. Winter white, not summer wedding-dress white. Almost cream. And it’s clearly cashmere, because it’s so soft, my fingertips want to pet it. I stand up, holding it against my body. It’s been tailored to my shape, because even though the skirt is long, it’s not too long.

I shrug off my robe, slip out of my silk nightgown, and step into it, just to make sure.

And even though the bodice is low-cut, it’s not too low-cut. My breasts fill up the cups on either side of the v down the middle, and make a spectacular show of cleavage. The a-line waist hits me just above my hips, and the hem swings just above my calves.

The intercom crackles just once, letting me know he’s watching.

I twirl for him, laughing, feeling like a child again. I had so many pretty, pretty dresses as a child. I wore them to spectacular places.

For a moment I’m disappointed that my destination today is the coffee house. This dress… this dress was meant to take me somewhere spectacular. The halls of a palace, or the desert gardens of a sheikh in winter.

But I remember there’s more inside the box. So I rush over and pull out a winter coat. Tan, the perfect color to compliment the winter-white dress. Double-breasted with large black buttons, a wide belt, and brown faux-fur trim on the hood and cuffs. It’s A-line, like the dress, with a long loose ruffle just above the waist for added flair.

Underneath the coat are tan leather gloves. Which make me laugh, because I left mine in the cab yesterday and even though I’m not sure if I care about exposing my hands, I will surely need gloves to leave the house on a such a cold winter day. There’s a scarf too. But not a thick one to cover my face like I usually wear. Silk. Cream with a intricate tan pattern.

There’s even a new pair of sunglasses. Not big and round and meant for hiding, but sheer, and sleek, and chic.

The second box contains over-the-knee suede boots the same color as the coat. Heels high enough to make me worry, but I dismiss that fear. I’m done with fear.

There’s more to unwrap. It’s like Christmas and I feel like I’m young again.

I go back over to the bench, find the package marked three, and sit back down on the rug to open it. The skirt of the dress pools around me like a puddle of snow.

The ribbon gives in as I tug, just like on the other boxes, and when I open the lid on this one there is… a necklace.

I can’t stop the huff of surprise that escapes my lips. Because this is no ordinary necklace. It’s diamonds and sapphires intricately woven together on a strand of silver, or white gold, or platinum, that would make a queen feel special.

“Oh, Ix,” I whisper. “This is…” I shake my head. “Too nice for a coffee house.”

The crackle of the intercom urges me to keep going. So I lay the box aside, get up to get number four, and sit back down in a pile of ribbon that looks like spun gold.

The fourth gift is earrings to match the necklace.

He bought me an entire outfit. And it’s perfect. It’s… me. So very, very me.

I didn’t even know who I was before coming to this house with Ix, but these clothes on my body add up to the image I’ve always wanted for myself.

No longer the child prodigy, but a grown, competent woman.

I daydream about how gorgeous I will look wearing this ensemble.

“What time is it?” I get up, rush to the kitchen to find the clock, and realize I only have an hour before the car will come collect me.

I shower, blow-dry my hair, and lightly apply a little makeup. Not too much. Today I don’t want to hide. I want to be me.

I put the dress back on, slip the boots up my legs with a sigh, and fasten the necklace around my neck and the earrings on my ears.