The next morning, Celia sat on her balcony sipping her morning coffee.
Room service had been delightful. Her beignets and powdered sugar, a New Orleans staple, heightened her culinary journey through the Big Easy. The images from the night before crowded out all other thoughts. After an orgasm and a good night's sleep, it had become a risqué adventure that she could file away for future use. A warm smile crossed her lips.
One for the Fantasy Rolodex.
A loud and forceful knock rang through the suite. When Celia opened the door, Reagan stood there with a smile.
"Good morning," she said, barging into the room without waiting for an invitation. "So, we've been invited to a dinner-slash-party tonight. It's snooty upscale, and while it isn't an actual costume party, there is a dress code—or dress style, that is. Garrett asked me to take you shopping so that you'll be properly attired. I figured we'd do some shopping, grab lunch, and make a girls' day out of it."
"Oh, you don't need to do that. I'm sure you have more important things to do. I'll be fine."
"Not going to happen," Reagan said with a laugh. "Garrett threw down the gauntlet, and I accepted the challenge."
Celia looked sideways at Reagan. "I don't want to take advantage of Garrett.
I'd feel funny accepting anything like that."
Reagan said, "In all seriousness, this is who he is. He's the most generous man ever, so please, don't make me go back and tell him you declined."
Celia looked at Reagan with apprehension. "Is this where the shoe drops?
Now, he's dressing me?"
Reagan let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, for God's sake, no. You pick out whatever you like—no obligations, ever. I've got Garrett's corporate card, and he very much wants you to be comfortable and safe. It's just that the clientele at this shindig are a bit snotty, and we have to fit in."
"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this. Garrett shouldn't be buying me clothes."
"I'm supposed to get something for me too, but suit yourself. Personally, I never pass up an opportunity to use his corporate card." What the hell am I going to do?
Celia smirked and gave in. "Give me fifteen minutes; I'll meet you downstairs."
Reagan smiled and said, "This is going to be fun."
A half hour later, they were in the limo as Barton took them to an exclusive part of town.
The car stopped, and the door opened. Celia climbed out to find herself in front of a boutique shop called Tawdry Diva.
"I love this place. It has some amazing choices," Reagan said as she stepped to the door.
Celia stood outside, apprehensive. The lines on this trip seemed to have blurred. She wasn't going to be indentured by a dress, and Garrett had to realize that.
But, then again, Reagan's on board, so I guess it won't hurt to check it out.
She followed Reagan.
As she stepped into the shop, the ambiance of a newly and meticulously restored antebellum mansion enveloped her. Heavy, luxurious drapes cascaded down the walls, while evenly spaced sconces cast a gentle, golden light throughout the space. Plush armchairs upholstered in deep purple velvet invited guests to relax, and oil paintings depicting scenes from Southern history adorned the walls, reminiscent of the restaurant she'd visited the night before. A long hallway, lined with thick carpet, guided her from the entrance to the main showroom, where a grand Persian rug sprawled across the polished wood floor. More glowing sconces illuminated elegant columns that stretched from floor to ceiling, completing the boutique's opulent and welcoming atmosphere. As they arrived in the main showroom, an attractive older woman approached them. Reagan embraced the woman with a smile.
"Celia, this is Dorothy. She'll be helping us out today. Dorothy, my new friend, Celia." Dorothy held out her hand. Celia took it meekly, still not ready to commit to Garrett's inducement.
Dorothy appeared to be in her early fifties. She wore her bright red hair swept back and to the side in a style that suited her vibrant presence.
Little ringlets hung down the back of her head and past her shoulders. Her makeup accentuated her exquisite cheekbones, and she wore a diamond ring that had to be at least two carats. Her thick Southern accent betrayed a tinge of Cajun, proving that she was, without a doubt, a New Orleans native.
Reagan explained, "We're heading over to the Gideon tonight for that soiree and need appropriate attire. What's new at Tawdry Diva?"
Dorothy hopped into action. "Let us take a stroll through the racks and see which direction we would like to go. If you'd like to take a seat, I'll pull together some suggestions. We can start from there. Help yourself to the champagne."
Dorothy stepped out of the room, and without hesitation, Reagan poured them both a glass of bubbly.
"This is my favorite part of shopping. Delicious." She took a long sip and let out a satisfying "Ahhh."
Celia took her glass and sat in one of the overstuffed armchairs. The chair enveloped her. It wrapped around her like a cocoon. Warm and cozy, she took a sip of her champagne and began to relax. She chuckled at the thought of her Walmart greeter offering her champagne.
Maybe this isn't so bad after all?
They were about to pour a second glass when Dorothy, accompanied by her assistant, returned with a rack of gowns. Without conversation, the assistant, a young woman in her twenties, pulled a gown off the rack and held it up for inspection.
"For Miss Reagan, we thought this might be something that would be interesting." Dorothy gestured to the assistant.
The assistant stepped forward and displayed a leopard-print gown with one shoulder strap. The neckline dipped extremely low. On the side, a slit ran up almost to the hip, one that would expose the wearer's entire thigh.
"That is amazing. I love the statement that leopard print makes. I'll definitely try that on," Reagan purred.
Next, Dorothy's assistant held up a red satin, three-quarter-length gown. It had a bustier, form-fitting top with two straps that started at the waist and ran over the breasts.
Celia gasped as she saw it.
Dorothy offered several other choices: an ivory satin gown with a plunging neckline, a deep-cut Camilla mini dress, a black velvet cocktail dress—simple but elegant—and a vintage 1940s floral dress.
Celia decided to give the red satin a whirl while Reagan stayed enamored with the leopard print. The assistant led them to the changing rooms. Before Celia could get undressed, Dorothy knocked on the door.
"Excuse me. Every gown begins with the right undergarments. Please try these on under the gown."
Dorothy laid out several pieces of lingerie. There were several very sheer bras, a pair of black tattoo stockings with a garter belt—at least that's how the packaging described them—and a nearly transparent mystic bodysuit.
"I would suggest that you try the triangle bra under the red satin. Each bra comes with a matching thong, but of course, we do not get to try them on at this time. Keep your underwear on under the bodysuit for now as well. Let me know if you need any assistance."
She stepped out of the room, leaving Celia to her own choices.
Taking off her blouse and her jeans, she hung them from the two hooks on the wall. Unclasping her bra, she shrugged it off and draped it over the chair. Picking up the red triangle bra, she held it up to the light. Very sheer lace trimmed each cup.
"This is sexy as hell," she muttered.
Slipping it on, she did the clasp in front, slid it around her body, and pulled it up over her breasts into position. It performed with gusto, considering the size of her new boobs. The bra offered excellent support and separation. Looking at herself in the mirror, she also saw that the lace cut across the top of her breasts, and her nipples were undeniable.
Now, she had to figure out the garter belt, a first for her. It turned out to be relatively straightforward. It attached around her waist so that the straps slid evenly down her thighs, front and back. The tattoo stockings were next. They came out of the package, and she examined them. They were as sheer as anything she had ever seen, with a pattern of large diamonds embossed throughout, hence the tattoo moniker. She slid them on one at a time. The silk against her skin made her shiver, as though she wasn't wearing anything at all. She stepped in a small circle around the tiny room, experimenting with the feel.
"Okay, this is what I'm talking about. Wow!"
Pulling them all the way up her thighs, she clipped the straps both front and back and checked herself once again in the mirror. The light-blue cotton underwear was very much out of place, but other than that, she had never worn anything as sexy and beautiful as this lingerie. She wondered what Carter would think if he ever saw her in them. That thought gave her pause. If ever she doubted that she had done the right thing by breaking things off, she knew at that moment that she had. He would have filled her life with something she wasn't looking for, and as sad as it was, she knew she had made the best choice.
Shaking off those images, she dropped the red satin gown over her head. It draped over her like a superhero suit, hugging every curve. The bodice adhered to her midsection and provided the perfect accent to her waist and bustline. The skirt poofed out just below her waist, giving the gown the ideal line. The neckline revealed more than she would typically be comfortable with, but with the lace bra, she felt very secure.
She twirled in place. As the skirt flared, the tattoo stockings flashed beneath in a perfect portrait.
"Holy shit, I'm gorgeous," she said out loud. "And I feel like a million bucks."
Giving her head a naughty shake to fluff out her hair, she walked out of the changing room and back into the parlor.
Reagan had changed and, with great pride, paraded through the room in the leopard skin gown. She had been right. The leopard print accented her mocha skin, creating a golden aura around her. The gown fit Reagan as though she'd had it custom-made. She saw Celia gawking and spun to her.
"Look at us. Just a couple of divas on parade."
"Wow, that leopard looks staggering. It couldn't be a better color match. I think I'm in love."
"Girl, that dress should be illegal for you to wear. You're way too stunning for any mortal man." Celia twirled for Reagan to get the full effect.
The two of them twirled, laughed and gave each other a quick hug.
"Sister, I gotta say, this is making me wet. I love this," Reagan said as an aside to Celia.
An embarrassed Celia laughed. "I've heard women say that. Do you think it's really true?"
Reagan leaned in and lowered her voice. "Oh, it's true, trust me. Sometimes it's bad. Wrong place, wrong time, and I'm worried I'll leak through."
Celia's eyes widened. "Really? Wow. Yeah, I'm not like that at all, but I can see the issue. Although, to be honest, I am getting a few flashes right now." She wiggled her hips.
Celia picked up her champagne glass, then held it high, in a hoity-toity pose, as though dozens of paparazzi were photographing her. One hand on her hip, the other extended with the glass.
"Dorothy, I think you've hit it out of the park with these choices. It's why I always come back," Reagan said as she hugged Dorothy. "Let's wrap these up! No sense in looking anymore. Once you find perfection, your search is over. Okay, next stop is down the street. We have to get shoes to match, of course."
Dorothy and her assistant wrapped up the gowns and lingerie. With sinister pleasure, Reagan dropped the corporate card on the counter. Celia couldn't help but look at the total, a little over twenty-five hundred dollars.
I might have to put out after all.
She smiled to herself.
Saying their goodbyes to Dorothy, Reagan walked the two of them down the block and into a boutique shoe store aptly titled Shoe Me Mama. In no time at all, Celia had picked out a pair of Jessica Simpson Prizma heels that added the perfect complement to the gown. Reagan went a bit more extreme with a pair of Ninety Union Gem heels with ankle straps. Selecting matching clutch bags, they had completed their assigned tasks and were on their way to lunch.
At a lovely little bistro off Tulane Avenue, Reagan insisted that Celia try the official cocktail of New Orleans, the Sazerac. This drink had a long-standing history. Legend has it that the Sazerac introduced the cocktail to the United States. It consisted of rye whiskey or Buffalo Trace bourbon—Reagan chose the rye—three dashes of bitters, Herbsaint, a lemon peel, and a cube of sugar. Celia mimicked her choice. She discovered that she had quite the palate for rye whiskey, and for this drink in particular. Two of them went down with ease.
Midway through the second Sazerac, Celia summoned her courage and asked Reagan a question. Leaning over and speaking in a whisper, she asked, "Hey, earlier, you said sometimes you get dripping wet? Is that true?"
"So much so that I carry extra panties with me just in case."
Reagan set her purse on the table and gave Celia a peek inside. Sure enough, a pair of lace panties peeked out from a side pocket.
"Wow. It used to be that would never happen to me, but recently, I'm finding I get aroused a lot easier. Sometimes I just give it a little squirm and bam, I'm on the edge."
"I hear that. A little pressure and suddenly I have to hit the bathroom and rub one out before I come in front of everyone in the room," Reagan confessed.
"Oh, my God, really?" Celia shook her head with a giggle. "When I was with Rod, orgasms were few and far between. Now, I'll be driving, and suddenly, my hand is between my legs. I feel so weird. I was never like that before."
Reagan leaned in. "I mean, we're all different; we respond to different stimuli. The secret is to find what works for you and go for it. Of course, practice helps. If you can't get yourself off, how do you expect a man to do it?"
"There was this guy in Houston...I mean, it's over, but..." Celia gasped and rolled her eyes, her hand coming to her chest. "I never knew it could be like that." An embarrassed laugh shot out of her. "I can't even believe I'm talking like this."
Reagan smiled and took her hand. "Celia, you deserve to be happy. You deserve to be pounded into ecstasy. No one should ever take that away from you. Life's too short."
"Can I share something?"
"You know you can."
"I got pretty wet last night. I never thought of being with a woman, but she was something else. I might have been overwhelmed and bolted, but that didn't take any of the excitement away. When her breast brushed my face, geez, I thought I was going to faint." Celia grabbed her drink and took a gulp.
Reagan sipped her drink and said, "I've been with a few women in my life. They're different, softer, and sometimes less complicated, but at the end of the day, as fun as that can be, I'm strictly dickly."
"Me too," Celia said with total commitment. "But there's something intriguing about a woman. I guess I'll just have to wait and see where that journey takes me. One thing's for certain: I'm not shying away from anything. I've wasted too much time already."
Reagan said, "Good! Everyone deserves their Eat, Pray, Love moment. You go, girl!"
Celia snarked, "Yeah, right. Except I'm not Julia Roberts and can't just run off and explore the world. Whatever's happening to me, it's gonna happen right here."
Reagan had the smile of someone who knows a secret. "You never know." She raised her glass and toasted, "Here's to frequent orgasms, stiff dicks, and a guilt-free life."
Celia clinked her glass. "I think that's going to be my new motto. Maybe even a tattoo."
After a marvelous lunch of crawfish and rice, Reagan texted Barton, who whisked them back to the hotel.
"This was an amazing day. Thank you so much for everything!" Celia hugged Reagan. "But I need a nap. What's the plan for tonight?"
Reagan said, "Dinner is at 8:00. I don't know what Garrett's plan is just yet. I'm sure he'll give you a call. I just got a text from him. He's just about done with biz. Let's touch base in a bit, and we can confirm." Celia grabbed her bags and headed to her room.
A few hours later, she stepped out of the shower to hear her phone ringing. "Hello," she said, with pure joy in her voice, as the caller ID projected Garrett's name.
"How was your day? Reagan said that you had tons of fun," Garrett exclaimed.
"Yes, we did. Thank you so much. I didn't expect any of it. It truly was a blast."
"My pleasure. So, we should leave here about 7:45. But I was thinking, maybe we could grab a drink before we go. Maybe on my patio, if you're comfortable with that?"
Celia smiled. "I think that would be nice. I'll drop by about seven?" In a gracious tone, Garrett said, "See you then. 244, end of the hall."
He hung up.
As Celia did her hair and makeup, she kept one eye on the clock. She had decided to wear her hair down, with a sweep to the right. Her expertise with the curling iron brought about a fantastic result.
Simple yet elegant.
Using the darker red lipstick that Reagan had suggested, she dabbed her bottom lip and smudged the two together. It wasn't her usual color, rather bright for her everyday use, but this occasion seemed to insist she go all out. Dropping her robe, she stood naked in front of the mirror.
The proof is in the pudding.
She dropped the lipstick into her clutch for touch-ups later in the evening.
Slipping on the sheer thong, she wiggled a bit to let it slide up between her butt cheeks. She had never been a thong type of gal, but in this instance, she made an exception.
"I'm sure I'll get used to this thing tickling my ass." She wiggled her butt cheeks again to secure it. The front portion had some rigidity, which gave it a nice, snug feel as it cupped over her pubic bone. The constant pressure offered a pleasant little buzz. Since the events of the previous evening, her genitals seemed to be yearning for more attention than usual.
Taking the garter belt out of the bag, she strapped it on with practiced efficiency. The stockings were next. As they slid up her newly shaved legs, she relished the texture and elegance. They were soft and exquisite, giving her legs real definition.
After attaching the stockings to the garter's clips, she grabbed the bra.
Again, the delicate fabric cupped her breasts with exceptional efficiency.
She checked the clock; the time to put on the dress had arrived. Celia crossed to the closet and, as she passed the full-length mirror on the bathroom door, she caught a glimpse of herself in the expensive lingerie. She froze.
Is that really me?
Her reflection showed an elegant, sophisticated, and damn-right-hot woman. Her long frame had been born to wear this type of thing. Each piece of lingerie accentuated the exact right body part and made her sizzling hot, at least in her mind.
"Okay, maybe I can pass for an eight sometimes. And the thong's a much better choice than the blue cotton." She laughed at her own joke.
She slipped the red satin gown over her head, and it writhed down her body like maple syrup—slow, smooth, and inviting. A quick pull at the waist landed everything in its correct place. Given her height, the skirt rode a bit higher than the designer probably intended, which made the stockings more pronounced. Another look in the mirror. She could only shake her head in astonishment. "Wow! I feel...invincible!"
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she put on her new shoes and grabbed her clutch. She deserved one last pose in front of the mirror; after all, this outfit deserved to be appreciated.
I may have been born to feel like this. Damn, girl. Who knew?
With a twirl, she pranced out the door.