I stare at the two dresses lying on my bed, each one beckoning me to pick them.

I’m down to two choices, and fuck, it’s a difficult one. I analyze the dresses.

One is a sapphire colored halter dress. It’s sexy, yet sophisticated and…well maybe a little on the safe side.

The other is a champagne colored dress that’s a little longer in length, but has a killer, plunging neckline. I mean, the puppies might burst and spill out of this dress if I pick it…

I mentally compare them for at least five minutes, but shit, I still have no fucking clue which one I want to wear to Owen’s party.

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.

He’s undressing me with his bedroom eyes as a devilish and playful grin stretches across his gorgeous face.

“You look…” He trails off in wonderment as he continues to ogle me. “Absolutely fucking beautiful,” he finally finishes his sentence.

“Thank you,” I say and spin in a subtle little twirl.

“That dress really leaves little to the imagination,” he whispers into my ear. He smells delicious.

“This dress represents the new and improved version of Molly Quinn,” I confess.

“I like this new Molly Quinn,” Owen says as he intentionally brushes up against me so that I can feel the growing bulge in his pants.

“Should we go get a drink?” I ask and point to the bar area inside the lounge.

“Absolutely.” Owen nods and follows me inside.

Just as we’re about to hold hands, someone announces over the microphone that it’s time for Owen to give his founder’s speech.

So instead of heading to the bar, I follow him into a large reception hall where people are sitting at round tables eating catered salmon steaks and prime rib.

“You can sit up there with my best friend Victor.” He points to a table in the front.

“Okay,” I whisper and watch as Owen takes the stage. I can’t help but feel excited for him.

As I watch him stand at the podium on the stage, my heart swells with pride for being chosen to be at his side, celebrating this fantastic and well-deserved milestone for him.

He speaks with such love and respect for his colleagues, and I like how he mentions a slew of them by name, giving them praise and recognition.

That, to me, shows character and diplomatic behavior in a man, something I respect. Something Owen clearly has in spades. He’s also got the sexy smoldering look going on, and I wish I could jump his bones right there on the stage.

Everyone has a discretion point, though, and even the new Molly can’t take the passion and heat that far.

I have a fleeting moment of sadness as I watch him talk because I naturally compare myself to him. It’s just how I am. Loneliness gnaws at my mind. Owen got where he is all on his own, without the help or support of his parents.

I wish I could claim my own right to success, with or without my parents’ help. I have a feeling that, either way, I’m going to end up walking that road alone somehow.

When Owen’s speech ends, everyone erupts into applause and some people in the back even whistle. Owen looks humble as he climbs down the stage stairs, in the wake of a standing ovation that I’m happy to be a part of.