Hell no. She could use a drink, a very strong one.

She cursed her inhibitions and her strong sense of adventure. The undertaking of something new led her to a place where she’d never been, and as soon as she stepped foot out of the tiny cottage, the one with the white picket fence for show, she’d lose all control.

Vulnerability didn’t amuse her. In fact, she never possessed a tolerance for it. When her parents were among the living, they refused to acknowledge outward signs of weakness. It allowed the competition to find hot buttons and later use them to their advantage. She never understood or enjoyed a power struggle which is why some mused over her strengths and others marveled at perceived perfection. 

While she thrived in the world of business closings and delegated agendas, her private life suffered. Not only did she have a twisted and personal relationship with loneliness, but she also feared it would always remain just as it always had been.

Paisley checked the mirror just to see if she looked the part. “Nope, not a chance.” She talked to herself often. Sometimes, from boredom or maybe a little lunacy, she even replied.

 Trying to peer slightly over her shoulder, she cursed her ideas and the foundation for which they were discovered. If her father were only alive to see her now, he wouldn’t just send her to her room, but he would help her design her own casket. Then, he’d seal her there. Yes, the man ruled with a cruel hand, and often she despised him and his memory, for it.

After an exasperated sigh, Paisley turned around again to face the woman staring back at her. The girl she thought she might have been before she slipped on the black spider web dress challenged her. She felt herself transform as the material fell over her smooth, bare skin.

Undergarments were made to order. Naturally, they were shipped at the last minute so there wouldn’t be time to debate the practical appraisal of whether or not she looked good enough to eat.

The bodice of the webbing provided a natural fit, and it slid and moved with her body easily. The sleeves weren’t comfortable, and the snug confinement found there left a lot to be desired. When the apparatus first arrived, she almost trashed it because of the flaw. The mere act of pushing her arms through the entanglement tried her patience. The price she paid for the get-up bordered with hilarity. Those in fashion were grotesquely over-paid.

A large scoop at the back of the dress led to a trail of faux tails. Something tuxedos in another century resembled, only the suits of a previous time didn’t expose so much. Ah, but if only. She stopped herself from thinking of the perversion found in such a mental image—yes, a divine clip. Men in those days would’ve been appalled.

“It’s time to experience a man while there’s still one out there willing to teach.” Right now didn’t seem quite appropriate for self indulgent conversation.

Behind a desk, she typically wore executive clothing and unisex attire with ridiculous boxer boots. It alienated any assumptions. When she stood at the head of Paisley Properties, no one out ranked her. Not only did she carry her company’s name, she was the company.

Eyes drifted downward and scanned the opening at the crotch. The v-exposure trimmed the lace panties underneath. From the back, the thong looked nice on her shapely ass, but the frontal view offered far too much sex appeal. The dress left nothing to a man’s fantasy and said everything for originality.

A quick wink and puckered lips, maybe she was ready—or maybe not—it didn’t matter. The here and now arrived. On the other side of the door, he waited, and he knocked.

* * * *

 “Are you ready darling?” He didn’t bother with introductions. He would’ve been fired on the spot if he’d offered one; an order her liaison received with her initial instructions.

“I admire a man who is right on time.” She clutched a small purse, a very peculiar octagon shape with black zigzags across a silver case. Simple elegance for a woman eager to learn the ropes or perhaps find herself tied up by a few.

His dimples were cute for an older man. The indentation didn’t lead to a larger smile or maybe it did. Either way, she imagined she’d see more of them. A man like the one in front of her would be full of surprises. He’d been recommended as the best turnkey lover in the galaxy, and if she’d been misinformed, there would be cause and reason to kill, yes slaughter, the messenger.

He casually slid his arm around her waist only for a split second and just quick enough to shut the front door behind them. Once he did, he offered his arm in an extended hook, a gentleman’s gesture which she took without hesitation.

The clickety-click sound of high heels spiked the interest of the concrete beneath them because the sound of her steps rang out in an echo across the dimly lit path. The long walk to the car didn’t surprise her. Forty yards to an awaiting automobile bound for the office proved short. Now, it seemed to take a few extra minutes.

The chauffeur stepped out of their way and then politely opened the door. He made an art out of avoidance. He nodded with the simultaneous tip of his hat and then allowed them to enter.

He’s gay. Just as requested. She didn’t want to feel uncomfortable in her latest design, and the last thing she needed was a limousine driver more interested in driving into her rather than onto the road ahead of them. Her latest fashion choices would eventually make it to Europe, and some years later, the States would accept it but for now, this type of statement had a definite place. Most men would appreciate her bold step into the night, but she didn’t need their approval. She wanted something more, and few doubts existed about where she’d find it.