“I can help with that,” she says, her heels clicking across the floor as she makes her way over to me. “How did your dress get unzipped anyway?”
“Oh, I was trying to fix my bra and–” I stop when Jocelyn gives me a knowing smile. I forget from time to time that a lot of people in this building know what my job really entails. It’s not really a secret around here, even if it is unheard of otherwise.
“So I take it you’re going to the Opal Room tonight,” she says, fixing a couple of my curls. She’s a pretty girl, in a sharp sort of way. Like she could be a model in one of those French ads where less is more. I personally have no idea what that’s like.
“As of ten minutes ago, it looks like that’s the plan.”
Jocelyn is still smiling as she looks me over. I can’t figure out how to read this girl. On the one hand, she’s been very sweet, despite our spicy first meeting. And on the other hand, as a woman, I know never to fully let my guard down with another woman. Over the years I’ve kind of learned to trust no one if I’m being honest.
“He does like to be spontaneous about things, doesn’t he? And at the very same time, he’s quite predictable,” she says, and before I can ask what she means by that, she goes on. “What are you going to wear?”
“Well. He insisted I wear red lingerie,” I say carefully. It feels weird even to be talking about this. I’m still trying to get used to it myself.
“Red, huh? He’s usually a black-lace kind of man. He must be in a good mood if he’s being adventurous.”
“Well, I mean, he saw it a few minutes ago and insis–”
“Let me see,” she says, and I stop. I’m sure I look like a deer caught in headlights, but in my defense, it’s not every day my co-worker, who I haven’t totally figured out, wants to see my underwear. At the same time though, I am a bit nervous about tonight because Damien did just spring it on me with little to no warning. And Jocelyn does know him better than I do.
I tug at my dress enough to reveal the cherry red bra and panty set, and Jocelyn bites her lip.
“What do you think?” I ask because there’s a hesitancy there. Not that I’m sure why I care.
“It’s hot…but you know what would make it hotter? Garters.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Oh absolutely. And taller heels. Really make those legs do all the work for you, girl. In fact…come with me.”
And before I can say anything else, she’s tugging me out the door. We hop in the elevator, catching it just before it closes, and go down one level, to the same floor as my office is on. On the opposite side is her office, apparently. I’ve never seen it before. But as we walk inside, it’s like déjà vu. It looks almost exactly like mine, from the fish tank to the corner position to the fur rugs and marble flooring. And if I am being honest…I feel a small amount of resentment. Maybe every office in the building is like this. Maybe mine isn’t special after all.
“Come here,” she says, pulling me towards the closet. She flips on the lights, revealing a wardrobe. It’s not much different from mine except that it’s more professional. A little less sex appeal. And a lot more pants.
“Wow,” I say as my eyes sweep over the racks and shelves and drawers. “Did he…buy all this for you?”
“No,” she says while tapping her finger on her chin as she debates shoes. “I bought all of it myself. But I keep everything here because my apartment is really small. This is like having a Dream Dollhouse closet, you know? Why not use it? Here, these are perfect.”
Jocelyn pulls a pair of black, shiny, strappy heels off the shelf and holds them out to me. They’re the right size, but that’s not what I’m worried about. They’re no less than four inches high.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I’m not sure they’re me.”
“They are not supposed to beyou. They’re supposed to behim. And these are very Damien Graves.”
Still, I hesitate. “I’m worried I’m going to fall off of them…” I tell her, but Jocelyn’s lips just creep into a smile.
“Well then, it’s a good thing you’ll be spending most of the evening on your back, isn’t it?” she grins.
Chapter 18
Ellie
I’ve never bought garters.
I’ve never worn garters. I guess I never saw myself as one of those women. Those women that add to the already uncomfortable experience of lingerie wearing by adding pointless straps simply for the sake of looking more promiscuous. Yet, for some reason, I trust Jocelyn’s judgment, and I go to a boutique after work to snag a pair (A pair? A set? I don’t even know how to correctly define them) of red garters to pin to my panties for the second half of my workday.
What even is my life?
After Rachel picks up Luca from the house, I rush to my room to slip back into the lingerie, spritzing it with perfume so it’s fresh again, with the added accessories. Then I throw on a red silk gown and my peacoat and head to the hotel, following the same protocol as before.
