Mask Me (An Empyrean Novel)- The Atlas Collection- Book 1

Part 3

"Wow, that looks amazing on you!" Samantha calls from the couch for what seems like the hundredth time.

I get confidence boosting, but not everything can be spectacular on this figure, staring unseeing in the mirror.

"That's the one you've GOT to get. No question about it, Atlas. It's stunning. Like holy shit, mouth dropping stunning."

Her eyes are wide and mouthing something to the sales clerk while I evaluate myself in the mirror. The sincere tone of her voice and her open gaze makes me believe it.

I turn toward the mirror again, twirling this way and that, to get a good view at every possible angle. On the hangar, it reminded me of everything I would choose; a plain ebony dress that looked like you could hug the shadows with it on and never be noticed. But when I put it on, it hugs my body in all the right places. It sweeps along the curve of my waist, flowing delicately off my hips and accentuating my bust line. The soft jersey knit looks elegant, cutting a perfect silhouette across my entire body.

"You've got to get that one Atlas, and I saw the sexiest pair of red sole shoes over there that would go amazing with it."

She motioned to the clerk before her sentence was even finished.

"You mean LouBoutins?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

"Yeah, those," she grins, winking at me.

It drives me absolutely crazy when she acts less educated and cultured than her background and she knows it. Which is why she does it whenever she thinks I will rise to the occasion. This time is no exception.

In a mere moment, the black smooth kidskin materializes and embraces my foot. My toes are peeking out of the front of the shoe, the intertwined laces running delicately across the top of the near-vertical 5.5" platform stiletto heel. The image staring back at me is amazing, sophisticated, stylish. Not the strict stern style of my 'Alexandra' Dominant persona at the club, but a rather more delicate feminine version of myself I have never allowed forward for fear of appearing weak. It is the femininity men think are fragile. They imagine the mirror appears anything but weak. There is an undercurrent of power and yet, a soft openness. I feel sexy, amazing and confident in my own person.

What brings the whole outfit down is I am also barefaced, my hair is pulled back with pins and my fingernails are due for a manicure fill in. As 'Alexandra', I wouldn't have even graced this place without perfect hair and flawless makeup but at the moment I'm not her. I'm the girl behind the curtain, the soul that keeps all the masks running in perfect harmony and suddenly I'm facing myself in a whole new light. I am facing the part of me who is responsible, prudent, calculated and planned. Right at this moment none of those things are screamingly obvious and I stand staring at the image looking back at me, wondering where in the world that girl has gone.

"Perfect. I've got you a new pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a more casual pair of sexy heels."

Samantha throws me a wide grin.

"I mean, those jeans would be hot to cut off but they won't do here girlfriend."

Her playfully accusing tone dares me to reply. I stare at her open mouthed.

"Miss Kingston, I believe it was you who showed up upon my doorstep, unexpectedly, whisked me out in a limo, fed me champagne far too early in the morning and now you are complaining about the way I'm dressed?"

The overly elaborate reply must have been exactly what she was hoping to get because her grin grew wider and she nodded to the clerk, "Told you."

Samantha looks back at me and nods her head toward the dressing room.