I laugh. “Me too! I used to sneak onto the library computers so I could look up all the outfits afterward.”
Too late, I realize what I’ve suggested without saying it—that at home I would have been forbidden from doing something even as innocuous as looking up images from a major world event. Uncle Aaron and Aunt Hope think anything to do with celebrities or fashion is worldly and sinful, after all.
I tense, bracing myself for Deja’s judgment—or worse, the familiar pitying look.
Instead, she appraises me, tilting her head to the side. “What are you doing after this show?”
That wasn’t where I expected the conversation to go, so I blink at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Do you have another job lined up after this?” The answer must be obvious on my face, because she explains, “Most of us move from show to show, or sometimes film sets if we can get the work.”
My curiosity piques. “Can you make a living out of doing that?”
She laughs ruefully. “Not a great one, but it’s enough to get by. Most of us aren’t really in it for the money.” She shrugs. “You’re a good worker. I bet you could do it. If you ever make it out to Hollywood, you should look me up. I’ll definitely let you know if there’s a spot for you, whatever I’m working on.”
The offer takes me by surprise. This whole time I thought I was only here because Sienna and Rae took pity on me. I guess that’s how it started, but apparently whatever I’ve been doing was enough to impress Deja. She’s a nice person but definitely no-nonsense. She wouldn’t offer me this if she didn’t really mean it.
My first impulse is to tell her that of course it can’t happen. Uncle Aaron and Aunt Hope would never let me. Then again ... if all goes according to plan, I won’t be living with them anymore after this. I won’t be spending most of my time running their errands and doing their household chores. I’ll be ... free.
The thought sends something warm blooming through my chest. It feels like hope. “Thank you,” I tell her, unable to contain my smile. “I’ll definitely take youup on that ...”
The only downside of spending all day working on the dresses by myself is that it gives me lots of time to think. I worry, of course, about what might be happening on set, but surprisingly, it doesn’t take up as much of my mental space as I thought it would.
Instead, I can’t stop thinking about last night with Wes.
The feeling of his warm, lean body pressing into mine. His soft, full-lipped kisses. The way each touch, each caress, each press of our body stoked a fire inside of me. No one has ever made me feel what Wes does so effortlessly. It’s like all the voices in my head, telling me how sinful I am, are temporarily silenced by the pleasure, theneed, he awakens in me.
I meant what I said when I told Wes he was my temptation, even though I know he didn’t love hearing that. And I understand why. It isn’t completely the right word for what he makes me feel. Temptation sounds like something inherently wrong and bad, and that’s not what I feel when I’m with Wes. I feel powerless to resist him; but conversely, I also feel stronger, more in control of my life than I’ve ever been. When he told me I would be in charge of setting the pace for our physical relationship, I was grateful. Overwhelmed. No one has ever given me authority over my own choices before.
My whole life, I’ve been taught that sexual feelings are sinful outside of marriage. But how can it be a sin, to feel loved, cherished, respected, adored, and wanted?
Maybe this is one of those areas of my life I need to reconstruct. I know there are things from my foundation in faith I want to keep, that I don’t want to destroy wholly. But in truth, I think there might be much more I want to get rid of.
(Ingratitude.)
Likethat. That voice in my head that tells me everything I do is sinful and chides me for even the smallest of mistakes.
The voice that sounds a lot like Uncle Aaron’s.
I know we should all strive to be the best we can be, to try to be as close to perfect as we can. But seeking perfection can be a daunting way to live. Sometimes, I want to sleep past six a.m. and not feel like I’m wasting God’s gift of the day. Sometimes I don’t want to busy myself with a dozen different tasks and have a never-ending to-do list I’m supposed to accomplish so I won’t be idle; sometimes I just want to be lazy and donothing.
I like fashion. I know it’s frivolous and that Uncle Aaron would probably say it’s vain, but I like beautiful clothes, and the way they can help people be their most beautiful selves. I like the artistry in putting together an outfit or a costume, and how just a simple swathe of material can completely change how we see a person.
I like how being near Wes makes my heart race. I like how he makes my body feel like it’s waking up and paying attention. I liked finding that drawing he made of me and knowing he sees me as a sensual and seductive woman. I liked touching him, and kissing him. I didn’t like the shame that came afterward, but I enjoyed the sensations in the moment, the closeness, thebeingwith him.
I think I might want to do it again. I think I might want to domore.
The thought sends my body into full awareness.
The revelation startles me, frightens me. It feels like something I shouldn’t admit out loud. And yet, once I think the words, I realize they’re true. Sexissomething that I want to explore. With Wes, specifically. With Wesonly. There’s no one else I’ve ever wanted to be close to like I want to be close with him.
The same pulsing, thrumming need I felt last night begins to build low in my belly. But I’m at work, nowhere near Wes, and this is not the right time or place to let my fantasies get the best of me. I should focus my energy on the beautiful dresses I’m sewing tiny sequins into to make them look even more magical under the bright filming lights. Harmony’s is pink, of course. She’s going to look absolutely beautiful in it?—
As she dances with Wes, molds her body against his, kisses his soft, full lips.
Pressing my eyes shut, I take in a few deep breaths to center myself. Clearly, I’m going to need a distraction to get through today. My two modes seem to be either anxious or horny, and neither one is an especially productive way to work.
A sudden thought strikes me. Matilda has been raving to me about audiobooks ever since she discovered them half a year ago or so. I’ve never been much of a fan, since Uncle Aaron would only let us listen to the Bible or books with a central Christian theme, and both of those options usually just make my mind wander. But maybe, here on my own, away from my family, I might be able to try something new ...
