As she suspected, Victor was no longer in the room when Violet finally emerged from the bath. Discovering the room vacant, she sighed, torn between relief and disappointment. She then promptly and severely chided herself for feeling both.
She shook that aside, however, put on her makeup, fixed her hair, then dressed with infinite care. That is to say, she dressed with the expressed purpose to make a change and not a subtle one. In essence she meant to switch gears from prim proper to slutty seductive.
She swallowed hard as she set aside her no-frills bra and Granny panties—Jocelyn’s name for the comfy, practical Hanes underwear she always wore~~ and she gingerly touched the naughty little corset thing she was to wear under the even naughtier dress.
It was indeed sinful looking, all scarlet satin with black velvet trimming. It certainly belonged more in a brothel in New Orleans than a quaint little bed and breakfast in upstate New York.
“Okay, so I’ll pretend I’m in New Orleans,” she muttered nervously to herself. “I can do that. I can act slutty and…and seduce Victor.”
Violet couldn’t even convince herself.
But being a trooper—at least she was trying her best to be one-- she rallied her resolve and donned the harlot-wear. Her first impression upon seeing herself in the corset was that she didn’t recall getting a boob job. The girls never looked so good. Then again, she never tried to enhance them, just the reverse. She’d always been self-conscious about her chest and chose to minimize it.
That, however was not what a woman on the prowl would do, now is it?
“On the prowl?” she murmured.
Is that what she was now? She laughed at such a silly notion and she sat down to put on her stockings.
“Holy moly,” she muttered, as she slipped one up to her thigh and hooked it in place.
She’d never felt anything so luxurious on her legs. These were definitely not your regular drug store pantyhose.
Next she braced herself and donned the dress from hell. Surely, only the daughter of the devil himself could wear such a despicable little thing and get away with it. She slipped into it holding her breath as she did so and zipped it up before turning to the mirror and her damning reflection.
She actually gasped. “Well, call me little Miss Satan,” she whispered. If she didn’t get a few male jaws to drop tonight, she never would.
It took several minutes and a herculean effort to drum up the courage and stiffen the spine enough for her to leave the room. A few fortifying breaths later, she grabbed her pushmina and stepped out into the hall ready to make Victor drool.
Of course, this false bravado would only go so far with our shy little Violet. Before she reached the stairs she tugged the dress down as far as it would go, pulled the neckline up, tossed the pushmina over her shoulders and hoped no one looked at her.
It was midway down the steps that Violet stopped in stunned disbelief watching the scene enfolding below. She suddenly felt a strange beast of nondescript form squirming in her belly. Why? Apparently, Victor was being mauled by a raven haired Amazon with legs as long as said river. Who this woman was, Violet had no clue.
What she did know is the Amazon had a musical laugh, a beautiful face, a killer body and seemed to think Victor was her own personal property. What was worse is Victor’s reaction. He listened to this woman with rapt attention, delighted in the numerous, casual touches and intimate caresses she bestowed on him and he obviously found her fascinating. From where Violet stood, and much to her chagrin, he was enjoying every minute of it.
That was bad enough, but then the Amazon laughed and said, “Oh, Vicki, you gorgeous man, you are not getting away this time!” and she grabbed his face and kissed him full on the mouth.
Then it got even worse. Victor wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close and kissed her back.
The beast within erupted fully formed, hissing, spitting and breathing fire. Rage filled Violet and she did something of which she didn’t know herself capable. She whipped off the pushmina, thrust her shoulders back—the better to show off the girls, you see--strut down the stairs and said, “When you get the chance, Victor, you might want to introduce me to your new friend.”
Victor instantly turned toward the stairs, dropping the Amazon like yesterday’s trash. While his jaw didn’t drop, a tell-tale glint of admiration showed in his eyes as they swept Violet up, down and up again. She had seen that look before, many times, and it had often made her feel uncomfortable, but this time, with Miss Amazon left dangling like a cold fish, it rather gratified her; more so when he came toward her, took her dainty hand in his, raised it to his lips and kissed it, all the while staring into her eyes.
“Violet, my love,” he whispered. “You look absolutely ravishing tonight.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it?” she retorted.
Surprise registered on his face, but he didn’t have a chance to reply. The Amazon approached just then, hooked her arm through Victor’s and smiled at Violet.
“Is this your little girl friend? Oh, Vicki, she’s adorable!”
Violet bristled at being called both little and adorable. Okay, so the only reason she was at the same eye level as this woman was that Violet was currently standing on the second step, but adorable didn’t seem quite right while most of her boobs stuck out of the dress she was almost wearing.
“Chenille, this lady may be many things but adorable is not one of them.”
Only then did Violet notice the man who just spoke with a slight, indistinguishable accent. He was casually leaning against the front door and he also had a glint of admiration in his startlingly blue eyes; eyes which forcibly reminded her of Richard, as did his blond hair. That, however, was where the similarity ended.
While Richard had been a boy scout, your typical boy next door with short, neatly trimmed hair, this guy, on the other hand, looked every bit the bad boy. He was elegantly dressed which greatly contrasted with his artfully unshaven face, the shoulder-length Fabio hair and the devilish grin as he wantonly allowed his eyes to travel unheeded over her form. Richard never looked at her that way and he was married to her. This man, however, was visually undressing her and didn’t even know her name.
She felt the sudden urge to replace the pushmina covering herself and high-tailing it very far away from him. Before she could, Victor, sensing exactly what she felt, wrapped a proprietary arm around her waist and kissed her cheek.
“Violet, I’d like you to meet one of my oldest and dearest childhood friends and…”
“Vicki! Oldest, are you trying to wound me?” Chenille pouted pretty as you please.
“You can’t deny, Chenille, that we’ve known each other since we were very young,” Victor said.
“True, but as I recall you didn’t actually notice me until I grew some tits,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.
While Violet’s eyes widened and she let out a tiny, astounded gasp, the men merely laughed.
“Vell, vat is der to attract a young man coming of age?” the Fabio look-alike drawled as his eyes roved over Violet’s cleavage before he looked at her face. There he found her expression amusing. He chuckled and staring at Violet, he softly spoke to her only, “Perhaps I was wrong. You are adorable.”
“As I said,” Chenille retorted with a haughty flip of her hair making it cascade down her back. “It is getting late. We should be going.”
Upon hearing this a genuine smile appeared on Violet’s face and she had just been about to utter a perfunctory pleasantry when Victor took the pushmina and placed it on her shoulders.
“Yes, good thing you stopped by when you did. Now we can dine together,” Victor said.
“We’re going with them?” Violet hissed.
He looked at her and raised a curious eyebrow. “I didn’t think you’d mind, your mind being elsewhere and all,” he replied.
She couldn’t understand his meaning nor decipher his mood, but as she had no choice, there was nothing left to do but acquiesce.
“No, not at all,” she muttered, forcing a smile. “This will be lovely.”
Of course, she very much doubted her own words.