Ward of the Vampire Read Free

enough draping to accentuate my curves without being over the top. Gorgeous, but the satin fabric looked like it might wrinkle just from being looked at too intently. It was just a bit too long for me, or so I thought until Miss Delilah gestured at the floor near the mannequins.
    “Put on some shoes. The peep-toe ones, I think.”
    I hadn’t noticed the shoes until now. Three pairs, all high-heels, all red—and all to die for.
    I slipped on the shiny leather peep-toe pair. They fit just as well as the dress, which surprised me because I knew Miss Delilah’s shoe size was larger than mine.
    “Go ahead, take a few steps around,” she said. “Is it too tight to move in? How about the shoes?”
    I walked around the room, feeling incredibly self-conscious. I’m not ashamed of my body in any way, but it’s one thing to be confident in my own clothes and quite another to feel at ease in a gown that costs about half what I make in a year. Never mind the price; I’d never worn something that low cut or long enough to brush on the floor with each step; even my prom dress wasn’t that long.
    “Hmm.” Miss Delilah tapped a finger over her lips. “I like it, but there’s something off about it. It doesn’t move quite right.”
    “Maybe it’s just me,” I said. “I’m not used to wearing gowns like this.”
    If she heard me, she didn’t reply, and instead she motioned toward the other dresses. “Let’s see the next one. With the black trimmed shoes this time.”
    I dutifully slipped out of the dress, careful not to wrinkle it. The next one—and again you’ll have to forgive the bridal talk because I have no idea how else to describe it—was a ball gown. Think Disney’s Cinderella in a deep ruby red. Layers of tulle, a lace overlay and thin beaded straps. It was beautiful but heavy, and before I even zipped it up Miss Delilah shook her head.
    “No, definitely not it. Next.”
    I can’t say I was having much fun at that point, but it never occurred to me to protest. Looking back, I guess it should have been a clue that something not entirely natural was going on.
    The ball gown went back onto the mannequin form. I turned to the next dress and realized this one was a back-laced corset. How was I going to put that on by myself? Before I could figure it out, Miss Delilah stood, her robe swishing gently around her as she came to me.
    “You’ll need to lose the bra for this one,” she said, lifting the dress off the mannequin.
    I gulped.
    Another perfectly reasonable occasion to say no. I still didn’t.
    I turned around until my back was to her and slipped my bra off. It’s not that I’m that much of a prude, but come on, how often do you find yourself topless and wearing nothing more than panties in front of your boss?
    After fumbling with it for a second or two, I dropped the bra to the floor and, at her command, lifted my arms. She slipped the gown over my head and tugged it down in place, immediately starting to do the laces in the back while I was still smoothing down the skirt. Made from bright, light chiffon, it fell as an A-line from a dropped waist. The corset was made of a thicker fabric, with a scalloped top and crystals scattered throughout.
    “The trick to a corset,” she said on a conversational tone, “is to tighten it until you can’t breathe anymore.”
    She demonstrated, and I let out a huff as every last bit of air was squeezed out of my lungs.
    “And then,” she continued, “to release just the width of two fingers.”
    She did release the laces somewhat, and I didn’t feel anymore like I would die of asphyxia in the next minute. As she finished the lacing, I did feel rather glad that I’d only have to wear the dress for a few minutes. The corset was giving me a cleavage to die for but I do enjoy breathing very much.
    “Peep-toe shoes,” she demanded as she stepped back.
    I slipped into the shoes and stood there, arms at my side, watching her watch me and thinking that, lack of air