Classy

I nodded, agreeing to Rachel's suggestion of a classy white outfit. It seemed appropriate for the occasion, even if the situation was anything but. She clapped her hands together excitedly, her breasts bouncing slightly with the movement, and told me she'd grab some clothes that would fit perfectly. As she left the room, the door clicking shut behind her, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had been growing since I'd arrived at the compound.

While Rachel was gone, I took the opportunity to explore the small space. The room was sparsely furnished, with a single bed, a small nightstand, and a dresser. A crude wooden cross hung above the bed, casting a shadow on the wall that danced in the dim candlelight. The room smelled faintly of incense, a scent that was both soothing and eerie. On the dresser, I spotted a photo of Rachel with a group of other cult members, all smiling widely. It was a stark contrast to the fear I saw in her eyes now.

She came back with a classy white dress, the fabric silky to the touch and flowing elegantly to the floor. Rachel had clearly put some thought into this. She handed me the dress, her eyes sparkling with hope. "This is the dress you'll wear tonight. It will help you make a lasting impression."

I get dress in the white dress Rachel picked out for me. The material felt like it was caressing my skin as I slipped it over my head, the silkiness of it making me feel both elegant and ****. It was tight in all the right places, accentuating my curves, and had a neckline that dipped just low enough to tease without revealing too much. Rachel watched me with a critical eye, adjusting the fabric here and there to ensure I was dressed to their standards. She then handed me a pair of white heels that completed the ensemble.

Once I was dressed, Rachel began to work on my hair and makeup. Her hands trembled slightly as she applied the foundation, and I wondered if it was due to nerves or something more. "You're going to be the belle of the ball," she murmured as she painted my lips a shade of red that matched the roses on the dress. The way she spoke was almost rehearsed, like she'd said it a thousand times before to a thousand other girls.

I ask her finally. "Why are you here, Rachel? What's your story?" Rachel paused, the makeup brush hovering just above my cheek.

For a moment, the fear in her eyes was palpable, but she quickly masked it with a **** smile. "I'm here because I believe in the cause," she replied, her voice quivering slightly. "But tonight, it's all about you. You're going to be the star."

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