Dressed to kill

I arrive at Victoria’s home right on time. Her house is modest in scale, but in a very tidy neighborhood. It looks like everyone on the block is using the same lawn service. Everything is pruned and there isn’t a weed to be found. How very Victoria.

I take a deep breath and ring the bell. A few moments later the door swings open. Victoria and I stare at each other in surprise. She has changed her clothes as well. To be honest, I was too out of it to notice what she had worn today. THIS, however, is hard not to notice. She might as well be naked. She stand before me in a vibrant sky blue, one-shoulder dress that leaves nothing to hide behind. It conforms to every detail of her body. Every curve, every mound, every muscle, even the faint outlines of her thong and strapless bra are on display. I can even detect the slight rise of her nipples through the thin bra. I feel a buzz building in the back of my head. My heart is pounding from something other than caffeine. My tongue has gone dry...because my mouth has been hanging open as long as the door has. I’m having a full blown dissociative moment. When I look back at her face and am shocked that she isn’t scowling at me. She is appraising me carefully, too.

“Well, sending you home early was the right decision. You look one-thousand percent better than when I saw you last.” She touched my jacket lapel, recognizing its quality. “Warren, you clean up very nicely. I was just trying on my gala dress, but you are almost dressed well enough for me wear it out tonight.” One corner of her mouth is smiling.

A few of my neurons finally figure out their firing pattern enough to collect myself. I close my gaping mouth. “You look absolutely stunning,” I say wholeheartedly. I flick my tie out from my pocket and hold it to my chest. “Will this do?” The words come out okay, but seem hard to form, like my physiological systems are crashing into each other throughout my body. I am only dimly aware of the fattening club in my pants.

She looks me over one more time and gives me a full, parted lipped smile. “It will!” Tingles blast through my nervous system. Endorphins dump into my blood stream. The buzzing gets more resonant. I need to calm down soon or I’ll have a seizure.

“Come in.” Victoria turns back to the house, showing off her luscious ass. The dress bridges the cleft between her cheeks deliciously, daring me explore the few secrets her dress is keeping.

The interior of her house is pretty close to what I had expected: mostly modern, expensive, stylish, and very, very clean. Decorative object are meticulously arranged. Esteemed best-seller books adorn built-in shelving. White objects emphasize how clean everything is. There is a circular white area rug in the center of the room. The end table is a glossy white cube with stubby walnut legs. White frizzy pillows flank the couch and loveseat. A trio of white ceramic birds cluster on a mantle.

When I turn to my left I see stacks of shipping boxes of different sizes, at least thirty in all. It appears that Victoria did try to stack them according to size anyway. Is this an OCD thing? These boxes must have something to do with why I am here.

“If I’m going to be wearing this, then it is a good excuse for me to figure out my jewelry for the gala as well. Why don’t you start by opening these boxes and stacking the items on the dining room table in rows like this.” She takes a stack of business cards out of a box to illustrate where and how things should be oriented. “We will be filling gift bags for all the gala guests. We can lay everything out now, then start filling them after dinner.” She walks into the kitchen. Can I get you a beverage? I have a bottle of sauvignon blanc open.” I am torn between taking her up on it, and wanting to actually survive the long night ahead.

“Not yet, thanks. What restaurant are you treating me to?” I am painfully reminded of how little money I have left until Monday.

“I made eight o’clock reservations for Monastrell.” I could have guessed it, since it is her favorite, but it is serious dough. It has phenomenal reviews. I think she is greatly overpaying me for helping stuff some bags. Unless she expects me to put-out tonight, too... I lose myself in that fantasy for a minute, then remember I have a job to do.

I see a small accent mirror on the wall, so I take the opportunity to button up my collar and put on my tie. Then one by one, I open each box, organizing the contents on the impressively large hardwood table, just like Vikki had explained... I freeze. Was I just thinking of her as ‘Vikki’? That is...overly familiar...if not downright domestic. Where the heck is my head at? I am still feeling addled from screwed up sleep. I need to keep my head on straight and my guard up. A simple slip-up like that could set off a landmine if it doesn’t suit her mood. The woman is a viper. I can’t forget that. I feel for my anger ball and try to get it heated up, but I am not feeling it right now.

{if victoria_birthday = true}

I think about the deal I made with Penelope. I am supposed to get them back in regular communication again if Penelope is going to help me. Do I risk ruining a potentially great night by sending her a message? I compose one and stare at it. This could be the dumbest thing I ever do... I send it.

Warren: We have reservations at Monastrell at 8pm tonight. If you show up, I will insist that you join us.

{endif}

I get back to work, unpacking everything for later.

Victoria returns, resplendent in blue and gold. She added dangling earrings and a necklace of four shining strands that would be concentric, except for points where they crisscross, dramatically swapping tracks, making a sort of golden web across her chest. She has matte black high heels with a matching purse, both accentuated with golden buckles and studs. Her black hair is down, setting off the gold of her earrings.

“How is this?” She asks.

I am in awe. No one could pull this off like she can. My mouth starts spilling unformed thoughts before I give it permission. “Incredible. You look like perfection...dipped in glory.” The words came out with conviction.

She was silent. Still, her dress told me everything. Her lungs pulled in air, expanding her rib cage sharply. Her abdominal muscles tightened. Her nipples peaked. She blinked like she was seeing me for the first time. She let her breath out in a slow, consciously controlled blow of air through barely parted lips. I don’t know where those words came from, and I’m afraid I’ll ruin it if I say more. My dick is rock hard and I know these pants show it. “That good, huh?” She asks me, cautiously. The thing she just felt, whatever it was, was a shock to us both. “That is a hell of a complement. You must have some luck with the ladies.” I'm not sure if she is referring to my erection, or my words.

I try my luck by urging my mouth to go on. “I can’t...think of any other ladies at the moment.”

She keeps her composure better this time, but a satisfied smile creeps across her face. “Good answer.” She is enjoying this in some way that I can’t quite gauge. I usually have a better instinct for this. She reaches out to the counter to grab her purse. “I'll drive.”