These Wicked Games

Chapter 4

A knock at my door draws my attention away from my laptop. I've been doing quick little freelance gigs online whenever I get a chance for some extra cash to pay for my bills and food. It's better than nothing right now.

I peek through the peephole to another empty hallway. Once I open the door, I find a big black box set on the floor in front of me with another envelope attached to the top. I set it on my bed and survey the card that has my name on the envelope and says:

Wear me, see you soon
~ A car is downstairs when you're ready ~

Once again, I grab my black light and shine it over, finding the same E and in the back is yet another single word.

SOVRANO

I stare at it curiously, I don't even know what it means. To be honest I don't know what any of the words mean. Blind, South, Sovrano, 40, 13. I keep those words and numbers in the back of my head for now as I glance down at the box before me.

I open it and pull out a long gorgeous black backless lace dress with matching lace Louboutin heels.

Holy shit.

I've never owned, let alone touched anything this expensive in my life. I look around me like this must be some kind of mistake and that I'm about to get caught. I hold the dress up to get a better look and I'm overcome with emotion.

The fabric is incredibly soft, and the open back and long lace sleeves show the perfect amount of skin. The whole dress even has a slight stretch to it that I'm thankful for with my larger than life back side.

Then like a giddy little schoolgirl, I throw everything on and look at myself in the mirror hanging on the back of my bathroom door. 

Fuck. This outfit can make anyone, even myself, look like a million bucks for sure. It hugs all my curves and perfectly pools at at my feet. I rush to curl my long chestnut brown hair into loose waves, mess up my wispy bangs before applying a light smoky eye and blood red lipstick to complete the look.

They give me a dress like this to wear? I'm going to rock it like I was made to wear it. Fake it 'til you make it I always say. No need for extra jewelry besides my locket, this dress is detailed enough. Not like I had any to wear anyways.

I grab my card from last night and head down to the car. A black Rolls Royce is parked right out front and the driver leaning against it sees my dress and asks for my thumb. He's the same big and brawny type as the security guards from yesterday. After scanning my thumbprint on his iPad, he says my name to greet me and opens the back door to let me in.

This car is huge and when I say luxury, that's not even the half of it. My feet move up as the seat starts to recline like a damn lazy boy in the backseat and there are stars, legit fucking stars on the roof. I'm such a huge car and tech junkie but the fancy car smell and all the gadgets just remind me of all the things I've wanted in life and could never even dream of having.

So I lay my hands firmly on my lap so as not to tease myself with all the things I'll never have in my entire lifetime. We sit in silence for awhile before I realize that I'm in a stranger's car, off to universe knows where and my stomach drops at the thought of what I'm even doing right now. "Umm, excuse me, hi. Uh, where are we headed?" I wave and ask the driver.

He eyes me through the rear view mirror, "We're headed to the Flatiron District ma'am. Gramercy Tavern to be exact."

"And why do I have to be dressed in this? Isn't this just an interview?" I continue to prod. It's beautiful but it's a bit much given the situation.