Mistress Vivienne tapped her fan against her palm, and the room stilled. “I’ll see to this part of Ms. Rhodes’ preparation, Candy. She’ll meet you in hair and makeup. Milly will assist.”
I glanced down and the simple black dress I'd carefully chosen and frowned. "I don't understand."
"You don't want to keep your Master waiting. You're already late."
"But it wasn't?—"
The sharp snap of her fan cut through the air silencing me. No words left my mouth. How had she done that?
“Strip, then shower,” she ordered.
"I took a?—"
“Now.” She gestured toward the tiled stall off to the side.
I’d already waxed, prepped and made myself neat. But I stripped quickly, heart hammering, and stepped under the spray. There were small containers of body wash, shampoo and conditioner, all peach scented.
How had he known?
Because you had your body pressed against his. He was attentive if he'd remembered the scent of my perfume.
It made no sense to wash again, but I obeyed. Afterward, the Mistress led me through the hall, not waiting for my objections to the fact that my hair was dripping and I was in nothing but a towel. The softest towel I'd ever had the pleasure of running my fingers across, but still.
I was ushered into a stylist’s chair, and as I opened my mouth to asked what was going on, I was cut off.
“Your Master has seen to everything,” Mistress said. “He’s not a man to leave a detail undone. You can sit silently and be prepped to his specifications, or I can send you back for your clothes. The choice is yours, my dear. Yours alone.”
Fear prickled through me, but I'd never been so turned on in my life. What the hell was that all about?
Her gaze softened, just a little. “Remember, my dear, you can stop everything with just one word.”
She cupped my cheek, and her gaze met mine. I diverted my eyes downward, knowing it was frowned on to make eye contact.
“Your body already leans toward submission,” she murmured. “What would happen if you allowed yourself to let go? To just… be?”
A stylist stepped behind me and began drying my hair.
"Yes, Mistress."
Her lips curved as she squeezed my hand. "That's a good girl."
Heat rushed up my throat. She turned and left me with Candy and the other woman—Milly, I assumed. Micah had told me to trust the process. So had Sir.
Mistress Vivienne had called him Master. He hadn't said anything other than signing his emails, Sir. Did he have a different preference?
I wanted to ask questions, but as they fussed with my hair and makeup, none of them made eye contact. The message was clear. I was to remain silent.
Candy kept my makeup minimal, just enough to sharpen my cheekbones and darken my lashes. Milly dried and curled my hair as Candy started massaging lotion into my feet and calves, I tensed.
“Relax,” she whispered with a wink. “Enjoy this part.”
So I tried. I closed my eyes, inhaled peach and baby powder, reminding myself I was doing this for me.
When Milly finished my hair, Candy took my hand and guided me to stand. Before I could catch my breath, the towel slipped from my body, pooling at my feet. Together they worked methodically, smoothing lotion over every place the towel had covered. My skin tingled under their hands. I couldn’t tell if I was more embarrassed or more aroused. Maybe both.
Mistress Vivienne returned just as Milly slid a white lace lingerie over my head. Candy crouched, holding out the matching panties for me to step into.
The fact that it wasn’t a thong nearly made me laugh in relief. I was grateful for that small mercy. Already, the anticipation was unbearable.
