then and opened it. “I didn’t bring you back here for sexual favors, although it’s quite telling that your mind immediately went there,” he informed me teasingly.
I had no words.
“These dresses are arranged according to size,” Gavin continued, gesturing to an assortment of colorful satin and lace numbers. “Take your pick, get changed and then report to the kitchen for assignment. You’ve got work to do and,” he added with a wink, “I don’t ever pay women for sex. Not even a woman as lovely as you.”
I couldn’t tell whether the last sentence was meant to be tongue-in-cheek, so I didn’t say anything in response. Instead, I simply glared because it was easier to pretend to be livid than to admit I’d just made a complete and utter fool of myself.
I stood there motionless as my face burned. It wasn’t until Gavin let himself out and shut the door behind him that I managed to pick my jaw up off the floor. I wanted to melt into the floor. What had I just done? Humiliation washed over me as I realized I’d just brazenly – and wrongly – accused my new boss of wanting to have sex with me for money.
Ugh. I didn’t think the night could get any worse. But at least I got to play dress-up, I reasoned, trying to latch onto any shred of positivity I could. And the dresses were pretty. In fact, they were downright gorgeous. They were the sorts of exquisite garments one might expect to see on a red carpet.
A few minutes later I’d swallowed my pride and steeled myself to get on with the night. After all I needed the money. And so, there I was tottering awkwardly to the kitchen in a pair of stilettos I’d found in the back of the closet.
Back in the day, I’d worn similar shoes without a second thought. But that was before my pregnancy and the extra ten or fifteen pounds I’d never managed to shed. My weight had shifted, redistributing to my hips and breasts, and now tottering around in such high heels made me feel off balance.
But damn, did they look good…
So did the rest of my ensemble.
The dres s I’d chosen was a knee length fuchsia cocktail number with rhinestone embellishments at the shoulders. It had caught my eye immediately because it was the brightest and boldest of all the dresses in the closet. It was something I’d never buy for myself because I had no place to wear such a thing…but I instantly knew it would be fun to play dress-up in it for one evening.
W hen I saw the price tag on the dress, I knew there was a second reason I’d never buy it for myself! Holy shit, it cost a fortune! It also fit like a glove and I felt good in it, sexy and curvy and gorgeous. Instantly, it gave me a lift.
I felt even better when I got to the large and immaculate kitchen and saw that Gavin was nowhere to be found. Thank God for small favors.
A couple of leggy fake breasted servers nearly knocked me over as they strutted out of the kitchen with trays in hand and noses in the air. One of them ignored me completely, as though I didn’t even exist. The other one glared at me before pushing past me.
I stared after them, too surprised to even yell anything snarky after them. I hadn’t encountered cattiness like that since high school, and back then it had been dressed in cheerleading uniforms, not cocktail gowns.
“Don’t mind them,” a mousey young woman hunched over the sink advised as she finished scrubbing a pot and set it aside. “They’re bitches to everyone.” Her long dark blonde hair hung in her face almost like a shield. Her voice was so soft, youthful and angelic that it was almost comical to hear her say a swear word. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing that should be coming out of her mouth.
She wore a navy blue floor length gown. It was modest but pretty. Even though she was dressed just like everyone else, she didn’t seem like she belonged in a place like Palate. It was hard to pinpoint