Chapter 6
Elene
"Are you nervous?"
Sandi regards me wide-eyed and grimacing, her thick false lashes fluttering in a state of distress while she hoists her bustier. Even as she tries to contain her boosted-up breasts in the form-fitting lingerie, her tits spill over the top of the cups. Her face twists when her long, manicured nails pinch the fleshy curves of her escaping cleavage and I can't suppress a small giggle.
"Are you sure this is going to be okay?" I ask, jutting my chin forward. "It looks uncomfortable."
Sandi replies with a dismissive wave.
"Madam suggested it," she says. "Besides, beauty knows no pain."
I nod in hesitant agreement and gauge my own ensemble in the full-length body mirror on the wall next to us. Unlike Sandi, I never invested in a boob job, so it's much easier for me to wrap mine in tight-fitting clothing. Still, my outfit is anything but comfortable. A corset is laced tightly around my mid-section, transforming my outline into the perfect hourglass shape, but barely allowing me to breathe. I don't plan on eating or drinking much tonight, but even if I wanted to, this getup wouldn't allow it. I'm not as endowed as Sandi, but the corset disguises my small chest by forcing what cleavage I do have up until it's nearly to my chin, and forcing my stomach to become completely flat.
The bright, virginal white-laced corset, stockings, wrist cuffs, and four-inch heels all match. My rose-gold earrings match the little hooks lining the back of the corset and the somewhat tacky details on my heels.
I skeptically survey my appearance in the mirror. White is not my color. With my pale complexion and platinum-blonde locks framing my face, it makes me look like a ghost. Black suits me better.
Madam made the final decision about clothing colors; it wasn't my choice. White was for the innocent angels, black for the naughty devils.
Sandi is sporting the latter.
"So, you're not nervous?" she repeats her earlier question.
Our eyes meet in the mirror, and I see her lips curve into a smile when I offer a tight nod. "Oh, yes, I am."
She sighs with relief. "It's not just me then. Thank God."
"I have never done this," I say, now turning to her. "I don't even know what to expect out there."
Sandi huffs. "Well, at least you only have to talk to them, share a few drinks, listen to their boring stories. That should be easy enough, right?"
I shrug. Truth is, I'm terrified. I have never done something like this before. I’ve never just spent time talking, drinking, providing company to someone without it also including being paid to have sex with them. I hate to admit it, but somehow it seems so much easier to fuck someone than to have to talk to them all evening.
When I told Miss Barry about my concerns, she stopped me with a dismissive wave of her hand and told me to just treat every conversation like it was a normal first date. Engage in lighthearted conversation, but nothing too intimate or too risky, no talk about politics or religion, flirt a little, but not too much, provide a little touching here and there, but nothing too suggestive. I remind myself that I'm wearing white, after all, and need to adhere to the rules inside The Velvet Rooms.
"Easy enough," I say, repeating Sandi's words.
We stand in silence next to each other, both checking our profiles out one last time, before it’s time to stride through the door, our chests pushed out, heads held high, radiating confidence that is as fake as our eyelashes. We allow ourselves one last moment of weakness, our nervous gazes meeting again in the reflection of the mirror.
"Godspeed," Sandi says in a low voice.
I smirk at her. "I don't think He'd approve of this."
She giggles and gives me a little nudge in the side. She flinches when she makes contact with one of the steel strings of my corset instead of me.
A hiss escapes her lips. "Damn!"
"That'll teach you," I say. "Don't mess with an angel in white."
"Play with the devils instead," she counters, winking at me. "Let's go, you little slut."
"Right back at ya."
She squeals when I land a loving slap on her firm ass. Years of friendship lessen the awkwardness of such a move, as Sandi and I go way back. We've even served clients together as part of a menage a trois, becoming far more intimate with one another than most best friends ever do.
I follow behind her, admiring the artistic design her body is sculpted into by the lavish lingerie. It's a harness design, enveloping her curves with an array of strings that travel across her skin like lacy snakes. The beautiful set is a lot more revealing than my outfit. Her bare ass is on display under a richly adorned garter belt, strapped to the left and right by black garters that hold up her sheer stockings.
We exit the dressing room, joining a group of white angels and black devils in the foyer. As a group we gather in front of a massive dark red velvet curtain that shields our view from the main guest room. We all received a site tour a few days ago, but it was still being readied for the grand opening tonight. It was lacking the final touches for this evening, the drinks, bartenders, and most importantly, the guests.
Tonight is different. It's opening night—and they're waiting for us.
My heart rate quickens as the realization sets in.
Focus.
No mistakes. Not tonight.