“No, I mean it. I have dinner with my boss very soon, and she wants to see me with my fiancée. I lied, I said I had one and now you’re all I’ve got. Please help me, Roxy!”
I can’t believe I’m imploring her like this, but I don’t have much fire in me. I might still be angry, but I haven’t done much yelling in my life and the irritation is quickly eroding into panic.
Her eyes lock on to mine and she presses her lips together.
“Okay Helen, okay. I’ll do whatever, you just tell me. I’ve run shadier deals, I’d say.”
I don’t know how to take the comment but when she starts giggling again, I tear the champagne out of her hand. She giggles even louder, shaking her head. I burrow around in the piles of clothes, pulling out a sheath dress in pale grey.
I grab the robe right above Roxy’s breasts and pull it off and for a moment I just sit there, numb.
She’s naked. She’s fucking naked. I thought she might have on a negligee or underwear or… Fuck. Not naked.
Roxy rubs her fingers against her hair absently, not even seeming to notice that she’s naked. I turn and run to my guest room, pulling out some bras and panties that were left here by my cousin a few months ago. None of my underwear would come close to fitting Roxy.
When I get back out there, she’s got the champagne again. I take it off her and start fiddling with the bra. I’m sweating and breathing so hard I can barely see the clip. My fingers fall over themselves and refuse to obey. Roxy brushes drunkenly at my hands.
“Hey, stop that. I don’t wear bras.”
“Tonight, you do.” In my frustration I grab both ends, wrench them around her like I’m tying a corset and clip it in. Roxy makes a little grunting sound. When I come around to the front, she’s got a hell of a frown, but I pay her no mind.
While I wiggle the cups back and forth, I try to keep myself totally professional. Like a costume designer or something. Just put her breasts in the cups and don’t think about those pink nipples starting to rise against the lace. Don’t think about how they bob in your hands, firm and sweet…
I quickly reach up to her shoulders and adjust the straps there. I look at the panties then at Roxy.
“Here, put these on.” I haul her to her feet, and she tries to oblige, falling against me. I shake out the dress and a little jacket while she wriggles into the panties.
“Oh, these are nice.” She does a little twirl, pointing her butt at me. It’s a black lace G string. How did I not see that when I was choosing them?
Maybe I did. There’s a scary thought.
“Okay. Help me Roxy.” I hold the dress open so she can step into it. It’s just a narrow rectangle of dark grey that looks blue in the right light. Straight cut at the bottom and across the neckline, no sleeves. I pull it up Roxy’s body, straightening it and zipping it for her.
Even in just the dress, she is transformed. Her petite little curves work perfectly against the straight cuts and the subtle color brings out her delicate features.
“I’m going to get changed as well and bring you some shoes. Can I leave you alone for five seconds while I get dressed? Do you promise not to get drunk?”
“Drunk-er,” She corrects me firmly.
I tear off down the hall, my heart pounding in my chest. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I want to call it all off. I can’t just tell Lisa though. I could never live it down.
So, my only option is to get Roxy ready and take her out in public.
I pull on a pink dress and quickly touch up my makeup, leaving my hair free. When I get back to the living room Roxy is watching TV but she’s not getting the dress wrinkled or drinking.
“Okay. Sit still.” I lean in close, just lightly smudging her eyes with liner and painting her lips pink. With just a tiny bit of product I get her very pale hair to curve around her face. When she blinks at me, I think that she looks like a mystical anime character, fallen out of one of their strange and beautiful realms to land in mine.
For a few seconds we look at each other. I stroke her hair gently, getting lost in the moment. She’s very beautiful. In a nice dress, a light touch of makeup and her hair neat, she’s hardly recognizable as the girl I recently brought home.
I think about the heavy eye makeup and dark lips she had before. The clothes that practically screamed ‘try me—I dare you.’
Maybe, Roxy is something inside that she doesn’t show. While we sit there, gently touching each other, I get a painful stab through my chest.
Even though we are so different, I suddenly get the feeling that we are exactly the same. That what we are on the inside, we can’t let out. The sense of loneliness I’ve always felt seems mirrored by her.
“What time is dinner?” She asks quietly. For a second I don’t know what she’s talking about, then the world and all its constructs come flooding back into my mind again.
“Ah—seven thirty. I think.”