Getting Ready

Steam curls around you as you step out of the shower, skin warm and faintly damp, the scent of your shower gel still clinging. You towel off slowly, working from shoulders down, making sure you’re completely dry before moving to the wardrobe.

First, the drawer. Knickers first, you pause over the everyday cotton pairs before pushing them aside, fingers finding the softer lace ones you save for nights you want to feel a little different. Black, with a scalloped edge, that sit just right on your hips. You lay them on the bed.

Next, the bra. Matching black lace, lightly padded, enough to lift without overdoing it. You hook it on, adjusting the straps so they sit flat against your skin.

You catch sight of yourself in the mirror, bare except for the set, and there’s no denying it now. Deep down, you know exactly why you’re dressing like this tonight.

Clothes next. You pull out a fitted pair of dark jeans, the ones that hug your bum in a way Tom always notices, and a soft, low-cut blouse in a deep burgundy. Something that shows just enough when you lean forward over a table.

You add small hoops, a spritz of perfume at your neck and wrists. Hair down, brushed smooth.

You stand there for a moment, looking yourself over. It’s not about impressing him, not really. It’s about the quiet certainty in the pit of your stomach: you’re going out tonight, and you’re probably coming home after being fucked.