I find a rack that’s largely deserted because it only has a few plain black pieces left and start sliding through them slowly. My hand shakes on each hanger as I move them from one side of the rack to the other.
Yikes.
Double yikes.
Ew.
I don’t really see anything other than thin lace and black, but I choose one for the simple fact that it offers a full-coverage panty.
Never, in my wildest dreams, did I think choosing something just because it wouldn’t show my actual vagina would be the safe option of the bunch, but here we are.
On shaky knees, I rejoin Hillary and Abigail and a group of other women whose names I can’t remember, and I tuck the corset and panty set over my arm like a waiter at a fancy restaurant would do with a napkin. It’s really the only option since it’s a similar amount of fabric, and the more I hold it out and see it, the more I freak out in my mind.
“God, I can’t wait for tomorrow night,” one of the girls says, practically dancing in place.
“What’s tomorrow night?” I ask, kicking myself for avoiding the damn schedule they offered when they first took me to my room.
“It’s the co-ed mixer,” Abigail explains. “It’s the first time we’ll be in the room with all the men at once. Didn’t you read your schedule?”
Co-ed mixer? I almost want to laugh. Or cry. I don’t know. It’s all feeling veryThe Bachelorbut with a lot fewer roses and a lot more blood.
“I forgot to take one,” I lie. Hillary smiles like she knows.
“Oh, I have an extra. I’ll grab it out of my room for you when we go back tonight,” Abigail offers.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” Abigail smiles, and a little giggle escapes her throat. “Honestly, I can’t imagine I’d be able to properly pick out any of my outfits without the actual schedule!”
A bell rings over the loudspeaker, startling me entirely and sending the rest of the room into a round of applause. When it quiets slightly, a disembodied, rich, haughty male voice comes over the intercom.
“Ladies, thank you for a delightful opening evening of this year’s Selection. We hope you’ve had a wonderful time convening with women of your equal tonight and cannot wait to meet you ourselves tomorrow. Please dress in similar formal attire and be ready by six fifteen. Security will escort you back to your rooms now. Please, our darlings, rest well. For the rest of the weekend holds more excitement than you can imagine.”
The whole group breaks out into a cry of cheers again, tittering and jabbering as we head toward the massive doors in one giant group.
I keep close to Abigail and Hillary as they move us through with a wave of their arms before closing and locking the doors to the ballroom behind us. Red velvet ropes stretch across the grand staircase to the left, as they usher us to the right and down to the other stairs at the end of the hall.
I crane my neck, trying to get a look up and into the roped-off area, knowing that’s where Cal went before, but when the rest of the group gets bunched up behind me, security gives me a stern gesture to move my ass.
“What are you looking at?” Hillary whispers, glancing over her shoulder just briefly as I link elbows with her.
“That’s where he went,” I say vaguely, hoping she’ll understand that I’m talking about Cal. “I think they’re all up there somewhere.”
“You think they’re…here? In the house?”
I nod, and her lips suck into her mouth with a healthy mix of fear and curiosity. My mixture leans a little more heavily toward terrified, but compared to the others, who are still gabbing like this is a day camp for wealthy girls, she’s practically panicked.
I can tell by the look on her face she’d love nothing more than to come to my room for a little while to talk, but the security ogres make it clear that’s not an option. A guard stands by each of our doors, waiting for us to arrive before double-checking the ID bracelets they gave us and letting us inside.
It’s solo time, plain and simple. Or, you know, a fancy prison.
Abigail is far too gracious for my liking when she asks her guard for permission to come back into the hallway to give me a schedule. He nods, reluctantly, and she thanks him like he’s doing her afavor.
I can’t, for the life of me, comprehend how they got all these women so trained to think this is good. To have them thanking the damn security guards for allowing basic human rights!
It’s preposterous.
“Here you go,” she says, smiling brightly as she hands it over to me.
