Is this what rich people feel like all the time?
“What’s the safe word?” Aunt V asked throughout the day.
“Timber!” the tributes responded automatically as one.
“Perfect. Remember, no matter what happens tonight, you’re in control.”
Finally, impossibly, it was time to dress.
The lingerie came first. Daisy stood in a private room as a valet helped her into garments unlike anything she’d ever worn. A bra of delicate dove-grey lace with tiny pearls contoured her curves. An intricate garter belt fit her narrow waist, the silk tapes clipping elegantly to the lace trim of sheer, icy thigh highs that covered her skin like a soft mist. Rather than panties, she wore vintage silk tap pants with slits on the sides and soft satin ribbons tied at the hip.
Daisy’s lips parted in awe at her reflection. It was the most feminine she’d ever looked. “I don’t believe it.”
The valet smiled, her hands still adjusting straps and bows. “The color suits you perfectly.”
“I don’t even recognize myself.”
“Wait until you see it with your hair and makeup.”
She couldn’t imagine anything prettier than the reflection staring back at her. But the stylists shortly proved her wrong.
The stylist parted her hair to the side, sweeping back the front in a way that looked sleek and polished, but not tight. He gathered her hair to one side, sculpting sections into wide twists that rested on her nape, and slightly off center, behind her ear. It was romantic and refined, reminding her of vintage models from the early twentieth century.
Her makeup somehow illuminated her features without looking heavy or overdone. Soft, shimmering pearls and delicate champagne. Her lips wore the palest shade of pink beneath a touch of gloss, appearing almost nude.
“Wow,” she said, wondering if she’d ever be able to recreate such perfection.
When they walked her back to the dressing room, women were emerging like princesses, so transformed it was almost impossible to identify them as the tributes at breakfast that morning.
Daisy stepped onto a pedestal, surrounded by mirrors. Shoes, perfectly sized to her feet, replaced the slippers she’d been wearing all day.
“High heels for…”
The valet looked up at her with a smile. “No one said you had to keep them on.”
“Do you keep yours?”
The valet cocked her head and frowned. “I wasn’t a tribute.”
“Oh. I just assumed…”
“It’s okay.” Her smile turned thoughtful. “Maybe one day I’ll be so lucky.”
The music faded away as her words echoed in the dark recesses of her mind. Lucky? Maybe she was looking at this all wrong. By morning, her life would be forever changed. What an incredible privilege to be selected for such an opportunity.
“Oh, no.” The valet handed her a tissue. “Your makeup.”
“Sorry.” Daisy gently dabbed her eyes. “I just got so overwhelmed.” She swallowed down the sudden surge of emotion. “It just hit me, like a wave of…”
“Gratitude?”
She nodded tightly and dabbed her eyes again. “Did I mess it up?”
“Not at all. You’re perfect.” She retrieved a long gown from the wall. The silk fabric shimmered like mist, a cross between silver and champagne, depending on the light. “Arms up.”
Silk descended in soft ripples, draping seamlessly over her curves, defying gravity. The front plunged impossibly low, exposing her navel in a swoop of layers and fine-strung pearls.
“Turn,” the valet said, and Daisy obeyed.
