“Oh my God, you are so gorgeous!” She fluffed my red locks. “Jewel tones all the way for you!” the woman gushed.
I fingered my promise ring once again as the woman went through a rack of vastly different dresses, each exquisite in their own way.
I’m sorry, Jarod. Please forgive me.
Episode 9
The Pregame
FAITH
After the waxer ripped every shred of hair and decency from my body, I spent hours—hours—putting clothes on and taking them off. Over and over. Ad nauseum.
“Do you like this powder-blue lingerie, Faith?” My stylist held up a lacy little set. It was pretty and high quality. Something I’d never be able to afford on my own. The edges of the cups were deeply scalloped in a demi-style that would show more than it hid.
“It will look incredible against your tanned skin tone.” She tittered, holding the almost nonexistent panties that went with it near my hip.
Dutifully, I stripped down and put the lingerie on, not caring about my nakedness in a room filled with others. The bottoms were high cut at the hips and framed my bum with a thong-style back that went straight up between my cheeks, accentuating the roundness of my booty with scalloped edging.
In the past I’d never been shy about my body. I was trim with a slight hourglass shape. Unlike the beautiful redhead, Savannah, who had all the curves. She was fighting with her stylist about how small the lingerie set she had on was. It was an emerald-green color, and her design would cover more than mine did, but what did I care? The point was to woo a bidder. I had a feeling if Ruby was told to walk out on that stage stark naked, she would have strutted as though she was wearing the finest threads.
Me, I didn’t much care. All of this was a means to an end. I needed money and the security that came as the wife of a wealthy man.
“Do you like it? I think we have a winner with this one!” Greta, my stylist, gushed, walking around my body with an assessing eye. “I think Madam Alana will approve.”
I nodded. “It’s as beautiful as were the last five sets you made me try on.” I sighed.
“You must be batshit crazy to put me in that!” Dakota’s frustrated voice rang through the air from across the room. “There’s no way on God’s green Earth that I’m wearing that. It needs a lot more fabric, honey. Look at this ass.” She smacked her toned booty. “I need full coverage, sister.” She pointed to the pair she’d been wearing when she came in. “If you have anything like these, I’ll wear ’em. If not, why can’t I wear my own?” she griped.
My stylist shook her head and tsked. “If she wants to be chosen, she needs to put those goods on display, not hide them.” She plucked at the edge of the tiny panties I currently wore.
“Maybe she’s the kind of woman who likes to surprise her man.” I shrugged, trying to be supportive.
“That’s not the goal,” Greta confirmed.
“No, it is not,” I reiterated, understanding the goal. It was all I thought about. Getting chosen. Getting the down payment. Sending that money to my dad. I stood straighter and smiled. “Okay, what happens next? It’s getting late.” I glanced at the clock and noted it was already eight p.m. We’d been in styling for hours. My face, hair, nails, feet, and body had been primed to the nth degree. I wanted to get this show on the road.
Before Greta could answer my question, Madam Alana entered the room with two gorgeous Caucasian women behind her. One blonde, one brunette. They were both dressed in beautiful gowns, their hair and makeup immaculate. It was obvious the women would be part of the auction but weren’t included in our group of newbies.
Madam Alana had changed into a perfectly tailored black sequin dress. It shifted and moved with her like oil over water. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, the black strands hanging pin-straight down her back.
“Good evening, ladies. Let’s take a look at your lingerie and discuss this evening’s proceedings. Stephanie, Elizabeth, you two can freshen up over there while I check in with our newest candidates.” The two women waved at our group, then did as Madam Alana bade.
I waited with my nerves in my throat as she came over to me first and scanned me from top to toe. My cheeks pinked at her blatant perusal while she tilted her head and walked around my body.
“Perfection. Great work, Greta. Put her in the strapless dark-blue velvet gown with the sweetheart bodice. Keep her lovely hair down but pinned behind her ears.” She cupped my chin. “I want nothing hiding this stunning face. You are a true beauty, Ms. Marino.”
I bit down on my bottom lip. “Thank you,” I whispered, actually feeling beautiful for the first time in what seemed like forever. Being on the run didn’t give me a lot of time for primping or caring much about my features. The focus was always on staying safe while being leery of everything and everyone. I looked forward to not having to look over my shoulder. To sleep peacefully through the night without wondering if I’d wake to a dark figure over my bed, ready to hurt me.
Madam Alana took her time with each person, adjusting their styling or choosing different items than what they currently wore.
I waited until she got to Dakota, who was standing in her own mint-green boy-cut cotton panties and a sports bra. If I’d known these women better, I’d have been laughing my ass off. Dakota was gorgeous. Her body that of an athlete, or a woman who spent her days doing manual labor and riding horses. She had probably a C-cup on top like my own, a ripped stomach, and tight booty. Her legs were long and muscular. She rocked the toned look, and even though she had a tomboy style and way about her, she would definitely turn some heads tonight.
“What do we have here?” Madam Alana clasped her hands together and rested her chin on her fingertips.
Dakota hooked a thumb to her miserable stylist. “Anna wants me to wear a thong. I don’t do thongs. Not even on my feet.”
I snorted under my breath and pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.
“Anna, do you recall the sporty sets that new designer created? Van Wyk?”
The stylist nodded and raced across the room to the long shelves filled with clothing. She grabbed two sets of something and brought them over.
One was a dark eggplant color, and the other was red.
“The purple, darling.” She snapped her fingers and made a ‘give-me’ gesture.
Anna placed the items in her hands.
Madam Alana held the material against Dakota’s frame. It was a unique style that I’d not seen before and was made of shiny fabric that caught the light, much like a bathing suit would.
“Put this on. Hurry along, dear. We don’t have all night.” Her tone was direct and lacking any humor.
Dakota pushed down her undies, and I noted all of us looked away, especially the single guy, Memphis, who was wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs that molded to his muscular form magnificently.