Do I want to make a bold statement, or do I want to play it safe?I’m still undecided.
If this were a normal occasion, and the old Molly was choosing the dress, things might go a little differently. There would be no contemplating. It would automatically be the sapphire halter dress that would come out of the closet and accompany me to the party.
The champagne dress wouldn’t even be an after-thought.
The tides are turning, though, and I’m realizing with this new freedom that I am choosing to live in that life can be spicy and fun, full of flavor.
I want more fucking chocolate in my life and less plain ole’ boring vanilla, dammit.
What does freedom mean to me, you might ask?
First of all, it represents that I can actually have a choice, and not allow myself to always take the easy road.
The sapphire dress is more on the discreet side, yes. However, the champagne dress is bold, daring and sexy.
The new me should most definitely go for the plunging neckline. Don’t you agree?
I take a deep breath and pick up the champagne dress and pull it over my slender body. I stare at myself in my full-length bathroom mirror and gasp in disbelief at the sexy as fuck woman who stands in front of me.
I’m proud of myself, and I can’t fucking wait to see Owen’s eyes drop right out of his skull when he drinks me in with desire.
I leave for the party, having a driver drop me off right in front of the hotel. I ride the elevator to the top floor where I know the party is happening.
I can hear the crowd’s mingling chatter and the music playing as I slowly approach the entrance doors.
“May I take your coat, Miss?” A female attendant gives me a polite smile and holds out her hand.
I’m wearing a trench coat. I’m not chickening out; it’s just a chillier night than usual for this time of year in the city.
“Yes, thank you,” I say, and shake my arms out of the coat. I tip the attendant and head inside, adjusting my hair and dress at just the last second before entering.
I look around, observing my initial surroundings. It looks like any normal party I’d attend. There are people dancing in the center and a live band plays covers of 80s pop songs.
The room is completely packed, and I find myself having to weave and maneuver around people, bumping and brushing up against strangers as I
push through to the bar area.
I’m taking my time, walking slowly so I won’t miss the chance of finding Owen, my date for the evening?just like he wants.
I finally spot him in the lounge area on the balcony.
“Owen,” I call out, hoping he can hear me.
He turns around and as our eyes meet, my heart beats faster and blood rushes between my legs, pulsing in my pussy.
I give him a cheesy wave that I pray doesn’t look like desperation to his point of view. His hair is perfectly manicured, short and dark. He has clean-cut features and not a lick of facial hair.
He’s wearing a tuxedo that makes him look even sexier than he already is. Yep, he pulls off the James Bond type of look exceptionally well.
He approaches me, and I grin from ear to ear.
“Hello,” I greet him.
“Thank you for coming. I’m so glad you were able to make it.” He plants a soft kiss on my cheek, and it tickles me as his lips brush against my skin.
“You’re welcome; it’s my pleasure,” I respond with sincere enthusiasm.
Now comes the special moment I’ve been waiting for. Owen glances at me, checking me out from the ground up.