She smacks her ass with a loud crack and says, “Exactly. Let’s go.”
I can’t help but laugh at her antics. She is funny. Intense like Luke, but funny. Am I really going to wear a corset and short skirt with no underthings?
It feels so scandalous. And dangerous. As I look at the fire goddess in front of me, I think,well, I wanted to learn some big dick energy.
“Fuck it. Let’s do this!” I reply with far more confidence than I feel. I’ll fake it till I make it.
She gives me a huge smile, clapping her hands again. With a little hand gesture, I realize she wants me to take the black dress off. Okay, well then, guess we’re heading to friendship first base.
Pulling the dress off, I try not to be embarrassed, but she is already working on getting the corset ready for me. I step into the black leather skirt and fuss with the laces. I look back up at her and she holds out the corset.
I take it from her and step into it, sliding it up my body. Once my breasts are covered, I slip off my bra and adjust myself into the front of it. She gestures at me to spin around and deftly does up the laces.
I’m thankful she does them tight enough to be flattering, but not so tight that I can’t get a deep breath in. I spin back around, and she gives me a slow up and down perusal. My skin heats under her stare and I can’t help but blush, wondering what she is thinking.
She drips sex and confidence and I ooze—well, I guess, okayness? Yeah, I could learn a thing or two from her. She steps out of the closet, and I walk to the bathroom to take a peek in my big mirror.
I give myself a once-over and I gotta hand it to her. I'm smoking. I turn to check out the profile and realize she’s right. Undies will not work, so I slip them off from under the skirt, and the outfit looks perfect. Scandalous, but perfect.
As I stand there looking into the mirror, I can’t help but think back to Stalky Hottie. Maybe wherever he is from, stalking is different, or breaking and entering isn’t a crime.
With a small shake of my head, I give up on trying to understand his motivations, determined to have a fun time tonight despite still not knowing what we are doing.
I head out of the bathroom to find her standing in front of my closet door, holding a pair of stilettos out toward me in one hand and Lucifer in the other.
“You, too? Lucifer hates everyone but Luke and now you. I can’t believe he let you pick him up.”
“Cats love me. Don’t they, sweet boy?” she croons as they nuzzle foreheads together.
“That’s what Luke said,” I mumble under my breath. Louder I say, “I am not wearing those shoes. I don’t care where we are going or who we are seeing, I draw the line at stilettos.”
She pouts at me and says, “Then why do you own them, party pooper? Fine. Pick out your own then.”
She drops the shoes carelessly to the floor but puts Lucifer down gently. He winds himself around her ankles as she passes me the black clutch she must have unearthed from my closet.
I prefer my coffin backpack, but she’s right, the clutch is better with this outfit. I put in my ID, some cash, and a credit card. I grab my phone to add it, happy to see a reply from Anna confirming she can work tomorrow. Now I really can let loose tonight.
I add my phone to the clutch and then go dig through my closet until I find my cherry red knee-high Docs with the black ribbon laces.
It may not have been what she picked out, but the outfit still is great, even with these shoes. It has my sense of style and I'll be able to walk in them. I head to the kitchen and down a glass of water so I can stay ahead of hydrating since I’m guessing tonight will involve some level of drinking.
We step out into the night where I see parked next to my little bug is her glamorous rose gold Audi. I tuck my spare house key into the porch light beside my door before walking down to the cars.
She clicks the key fob and we both slide into the luxurious leather seats. Turning and smiling at me, she starts the car and revs the engine like we’re waiting at the starting line of a car race.
Shocked, I look over at her as she slams into drive, peeling out like the devil himself is chasing us. I brace myself against the seat with one hand and the door with the other and squeak, “If I am going to die tonight, I should at least know the name of my killer.”
She lets out a disturbingly childlike giggle as she weaves in and out of traffic, steering us toward the highway. She flies up the on-ramp, slipping between two tractor trailers and into the far-left lane. Looking at me, she smiles and says, “You’re a funny little pet. I’m Lilith.”
She holds my gaze longer than seems safe at warp speed on a busy freeway. I look forward and then back at her. “Eyes on the road, Lilith!”
She shrugs one shoulder at me and faces front, fiddling with some buttons on the steering wheel until some type of French rap with a fun back beat fills the air. She dances in her seat, singing loudly in perfect French.
I’m seriously questioning my sanity for jumping in a car and going out with a virtual stranger. Yet, I can’t help but believe tonight is going to be something. I cannot even begin to guess what that something might be, but it’s definitely going to be something.
She continues to drive like a bat out of hell, singing along to every song, no matter the language. Her chair dancing is amazing. I worry that’s where we are going, which I secretly love, but I'm super self-conscious about actually doing.
Given her chair moves, I have no idea how I could hit the dance floor with her. After a few more songs, Lilith whips the car from the left lane across several lanes of traffic to take a right exit ramp, leaving horns blaring in our wake.
