Despite all the information at our fingertips, nobody could give me a simple answer on what happened once you sold yourself.
“I know what’ll make you feel better,” Sonia said brightly. “I’m gonna turn you around.”
“Sonia—”
“Shh. Just look at yourself.”
I closed my eyes as she spun my creaky old swivel desk chair around with a flourish.
“Ta-da!”
I looked into my mirror and my mouth dropped open.
Okay, so, I’d been wrong to doubt Sonia’s skills. While I’d fretted that she was making a hash of my face, she’d actually been painting with the broad yet furtive strokes of a master. My contoured cheeks sat high and rosy on my face, and my eyes burned out from a smoky haze of eggplant eyeshadow and black winged liner. My lips, carved with the definition of a Greek statue, were a perfect rosebud in blossom. And my hair! It was flipped over to one side and pinned back, so on the right hand it was sleek and tight and on the left, flowing with barrel curls. Jessica Rabbit, eat your heart out, I thought with delight.
“Oh, Sonia. I look…”
“Beautiful,” she finished, satisfied at her work. “Okay, stand up and show me the lingerie.”
I did as I was told, rising to my feet and discarding the robe on the floor.
Sonia had brought me one of her lingerie sets, back from when she was stripping — she quit because of back problems, in case you’re interested. The bright red number included a satin balconette bra, matching panties, a garter belt, and those thigh high stockings with a thin black line up the back.
“You are so fucking hot!” she shrieked with glee. “Oh my God, forget one hundred thousand, you’re making two hundred thousand tonight!”
I slipped on some black pumps I’d shoved under the desk, and moved to look at myself in the full-length mirror.
Sonia was right — I was a bombshell. I gasped at my reflection, running my fingers down my neck and over my décolletage. Could I really be the woman staring back at me, this mysterious, erotic minx with a knowing smile? How had I changed so very quickly?
“You’re gonna be a legend,” Sonia said, smiling at the figure I cut. Then, more seriously, she added, “And if at any point you decide to back out, even if it’s five minutes before, remember to call me and I’ll be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
“Thank you. Seriously, it means a lot to have a friend like you.”
She pulled me in for one last hug.
“Okay,” she said at last, breaking free. “Let’s call that Uber.”
Within half an hour, I was being dropped off on the curb of RES. I stepped out of the car, my legs quaking with such gusto I worried they’d snap. My stomach was flipping about half with delight that I looked incredible and then with what I was about to do.
As instructed, I made my way inside the casino, my usual trench coat wrapped firmly around my body. It felt so naughty, walking through a public space knowing that I was dressed head to toe in fine lingerie. A strange, foreign part of me suddenly wished that Tate was there to see me now. I wanted to watch his mouth drop open as I unbelted the coat and revealed myself.
You’re being silly, I nagged myself. Fantastical, even.
That was true enough. But the stares I was getting from surrounding strangers were as real as the nose on your face. People turned to glance at me with shock and barely concealed envy. I wondered, Is this what it’s like to move through the world as a beautiful woman? Constantly revered and hated?
The experience was new, to say the least. Maybe it was my make-up, or maybe the surge of confidence. My hips began to swivel as though to an unheard beat. I stuck out my breasts and lowered my shoulders. Either way, I was giving off vibes that made people openly stare with lust. I had to admit, it wasn’t a horrible experience. If this was what it was like to sell my virginity, perhaps I’d actually have a bit of fun.
I finally got to the back of the casino, where as promised, I found a dimly lit bar, glowing with a faint orange hue beneath the long stretch of countertop. There were a couple of worn leather bar stools, a football game on TV, and little else. Compared to the rest of RES, it felt forgotten, a backwards glance into a different era of casinos, when everything wasn’t quite so polished and Insta-pretty.
The bartender was one of those old-timers, who had more liquor in his blood than water. His nose was bright red, a feature I was familiar with from the faces of many other devoted drinkers who passed through Dazzlers. These ancient sea dogs were good at getting their daily tipple in while still managing to serve other people drinks. It was a precarious balance, but the town was built on their backs.