The girl featured was a blonde named Victoria. She wore a bra that exposed her pink nipples and a barely there thong. Her bio stated she “tasted great with champagne.”
What does that even mean?
Jacques bustled into the room with a blasé, “I’m back. What do you think of this?”
I turned and my jaw dropped at the sight of the dress in his hands. It was a sapphire blue floor length gown in a shiny fabric that looked to be silk. The halter-top had a plunging neckline so deep, I wondered if it would reveal my belly button. He turned it around to show the dress was backless and then flipped back to the front to display the slit that went straight up the middle of the skirt.
“Stunning. You have the best taste,” Madame Rouge said, her voice warm with appreciation. “Miss Danson?”
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, reaching out to touch it.
Jacques smiled, pleased with himself and pulled the dress back until it was just out of reach. “I brought some lace thigh-highs to go with it. The slit allows you to play peek-a-boo if you wish.”
Peek-a-boo?
“That is an excellent detail,” Madame Rouge said. Noting my confusion, she smiled. “Our clients appreciate a little tease. You might think of signing up for a burlesque seminar at some point to hone those skills. Great sex is all about anticipation.”
Jacques sniffed and looked over my navy interview suit. “Take off those rags you’re abusing the public eye with and let’s see how this looks.”
I flushed at the thought of disrobing in front of them, but noting Madame Rouge’s expectant look, I realized this must be some unspoken test. If you’re going to have sex and engage in bloodletting for a living, I guess you can’t be shy about getting naked. If your boss wants to see the goods, you show the goods.
Resigned, I shrugged out of my jacket and slipped off the lace camisole I wore underneath. Leaving my bra on for the moment, I unzipped and wiggled out of my skirt.
“Oh my God, you’re wearing mass market underwear,” Jacques said, disgust filling his voice.
My blush deepened and spread to my chest. Madam Rouge clasped her hands together, almost applauding. “Oh very, nice Miss Danson. I don’t think we have anyone who blushes quite like you on staff.” To Jacques she said, “Be nice. We can’t all have your exquisite taste.”
Jacques gave a petulant ‘humph’ and stared at my underwear as if willing it off my body. When I reached for the dress, he jumped back. “Oh no, not with that made-in-China sweatshop underwear on your body. It comes off or the dress does not go on, honey.”
“Do you have something I can wear?”I asked.
He held up a finger and wagged it at me. “First, there is no bra with this dress. Second, underwear never comes back so we don’t supply it.”
Go commando? I looked at Madame Rouge who raised a perfectly contoured eyebrow. With a sigh I unhooked my bra and tossed it into the pile with the rest of my clothes. Then I slipped off my underwear. There, I was naked. Ta-dah .
Madame Rouge took the opportunity to walk around me. “Very nice.” She ran a hand down my back, raising goose bumps as she went. “Soft skin, no marks or blemishes. Oh, they’ll love you.” She stepped in front of me, gaze assessing my chest. “Large, firm breasts. A surprise since your frame is so slight.” She paused to heft a breast in her hand, fingers grazing the tip. When it puckered at her touch, she gave a nod of approval. “Let’s see how the dress looks.”
Jacques dropped the dress over my head and arranged it on my body with confident expertise. The neckline plunged almost to my belly button and the key to keeping my breasts covered was tying the halter tight behind my neck. The slit stopped about six inches before my pubic mound. I would have to be careful when I walked or my vagina would play peek-a-boo with everyone I met.
Yikes.
“Here, put these on and we’ll see how it comes together.” Jacques handed
What does that even mean?
Jacques bustled into the room with a blasé, “I’m back. What do you think of this?”
I turned and my jaw dropped at the sight of the dress in his hands. It was a sapphire blue floor length gown in a shiny fabric that looked to be silk. The halter-top had a plunging neckline so deep, I wondered if it would reveal my belly button. He turned it around to show the dress was backless and then flipped back to the front to display the slit that went straight up the middle of the skirt.
“Stunning. You have the best taste,” Madame Rouge said, her voice warm with appreciation. “Miss Danson?”
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, reaching out to touch it.
Jacques smiled, pleased with himself and pulled the dress back until it was just out of reach. “I brought some lace thigh-highs to go with it. The slit allows you to play peek-a-boo if you wish.”
Peek-a-boo?
“That is an excellent detail,” Madame Rouge said. Noting my confusion, she smiled. “Our clients appreciate a little tease. You might think of signing up for a burlesque seminar at some point to hone those skills. Great sex is all about anticipation.”
Jacques sniffed and looked over my navy interview suit. “Take off those rags you’re abusing the public eye with and let’s see how this looks.”
I flushed at the thought of disrobing in front of them, but noting Madame Rouge’s expectant look, I realized this must be some unspoken test. If you’re going to have sex and engage in bloodletting for a living, I guess you can’t be shy about getting naked. If your boss wants to see the goods, you show the goods.
Resigned, I shrugged out of my jacket and slipped off the lace camisole I wore underneath. Leaving my bra on for the moment, I unzipped and wiggled out of my skirt.
“Oh my God, you’re wearing mass market underwear,” Jacques said, disgust filling his voice.
My blush deepened and spread to my chest. Madam Rouge clasped her hands together, almost applauding. “Oh very, nice Miss Danson. I don’t think we have anyone who blushes quite like you on staff.” To Jacques she said, “Be nice. We can’t all have your exquisite taste.”
Jacques gave a petulant ‘humph’ and stared at my underwear as if willing it off my body. When I reached for the dress, he jumped back. “Oh no, not with that made-in-China sweatshop underwear on your body. It comes off or the dress does not go on, honey.”
“Do you have something I can wear?”I asked.
He held up a finger and wagged it at me. “First, there is no bra with this dress. Second, underwear never comes back so we don’t supply it.”
Go commando? I looked at Madame Rouge who raised a perfectly contoured eyebrow. With a sigh I unhooked my bra and tossed it into the pile with the rest of my clothes. Then I slipped off my underwear. There, I was naked. Ta-dah .
Madame Rouge took the opportunity to walk around me. “Very nice.” She ran a hand down my back, raising goose bumps as she went. “Soft skin, no marks or blemishes. Oh, they’ll love you.” She stepped in front of me, gaze assessing my chest. “Large, firm breasts. A surprise since your frame is so slight.” She paused to heft a breast in her hand, fingers grazing the tip. When it puckered at her touch, she gave a nod of approval. “Let’s see how the dress looks.”
Jacques dropped the dress over my head and arranged it on my body with confident expertise. The neckline plunged almost to my belly button and the key to keeping my breasts covered was tying the halter tight behind my neck. The slit stopped about six inches before my pubic mound. I would have to be careful when I walked or my vagina would play peek-a-boo with everyone I met.
Yikes.
“Here, put these on and we’ll see how it comes together.” Jacques handed
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