What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [116]
Jenna had followed the map provided with her invitation and now found herself in another of those small changing rooms that seemed to be the gateway from normal life into fantasy.
As promised, her wardrobe had been provided and she was almost giddy about it. The dress was very Marie Antoinette—not completely authentic, but close enough. The extremely low-cut bodice nearly revealed her nipples while the ivory satin corset underneath shoved them high, making her feel like a sumptuous courtesan. Otherwise, the frock’s shape was much like the green one she’d donned on the beach yesterday, yet with wider skirting and a few lace panels sewn into the ornate brocade.
Beneath the dress, she wore only stockings with ivory bows at the front of each thigh, and ivory shoes that matched the period. According to the note with the dress, “You have decided to forego undergarments tonight as the weather is warm and you are feeling a bit naughty.” True, and true, she decided merrily enough.
Just as she stood before the mirror in the small room admiring her dress—and her breasts—a woman attired as an English maid came scurrying through the door. “Sorry to be so tardy, m’lady,” she said, sporting a thick cockney accent, “but ’ave you a seat and we’ll fix up your hair right nice.”
One thing she had to say for the Hotel Erotique—they understood the value of details. She couldn’t hide her smile as she sat down at a small dressing table to the right of the large mirror and let the maid begin working. With no mention of the modern curling iron and pins being used, the maid chattered about how the party was well underway and how fancy all the ladies looked.
“And oh, them ’andsome lords in their tight breeches!” the maid screeched, fanning herself. “Some of ’em looks like they got a lot to offer a lady, if ya knows what I mean.” Meanwhile, she styled Jenna’s hair into an admirable seventeenth-century coif, complete with tightly ringed sausage curls falling over her shoulders.
“Off ya go now,” the maid said with a shooing motion when she’d finished. But before Jenna could even get to her feet, the maid held up one finger. “Wait! I’ve gone and forgot the most important thing!”
“What’s that?” Jenna asked.
The maid stepped to a cabinet across the small chamber and pulled out a glittery ice blue mask adorned with a clump of fluffy ivory feathers. It was so beautiful Jenna gasped—and the maid smiled. “Can’t very well go to a masquerade without this, now can ya?”
“Definitely not,” Jenna said, warming to the fantasy even more.
Then the maid carefully fit the mask over Jenna’s head, securing it with the attached elastic band, which she hid beneath certain locks of hair, and ignoring that the elastic was a modern addition.
The mask covered only the top part of Jenna’s face, and her eyes shone vividly through, but it still made her feel sexy and mysterious. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror as the maid resumed her previous shooing. “Go now. Ya don’t wants to miss the merriment. But ya best be careful,” she added, winking, “for I ’ear there’s a rascally rogue or two what might try to have his way with ya.”
When Jenna stepped through the door that led to the fantasy, she found herself immediately immersed in seventeenth-century London! Like last night, the sense of being swept back to another era was instantly more profound than in yesterday’s beach fantasy and nearly took her breath away. To one side of the ornate room, a string quartet played, filling the air with classical music. Candles in ornate wall sconces lit the space, drawing her gaze to intricately carved woodwork and brocade-covered walls where period paintings hung. The large parlor buzzed with people in costumes similar to hers—they stood in groups talking, maybe flirting, drinking wine and snacking on fancy finger foods. Some women and even a few men wore tall powdered wigs; others, like her, simply