Blind Carnival

Red Carpet Treatment

She bloody hates Bea. Olivia's sitting in her car, and she's so uncomfortable in so many ways that she has half a thought she should just start the engine and go home. Her eyes feel like she put Tabasco in them instead of her eye drops. Her hair is pulled up in a bun and it's so bloody tight that she's not certain how she manages to blink. The wires of her new red bra are burrowing into her ribs.

Bea has dolled her up, despite Olivia's thorough attempts to scale down the importance of this evening. She might have made a mistake of actually looking interested when Bea opened the box from Myla in front of her. In hindsight, Olivia should have pretended to be terrified and call Bea a perv. She could've said it was 'only their second dinner!' Why would Olivia need a red lacy bra and knickers?! But you just couldn't reign you interest, could you? Olivia, you trollop! But they were so gorgeous! And she imagined his beard pressed into them and his white teeth dragging the little triangle of red lace down! And Bea noticed.

Olivia squirms on her seat, the narrow strip of lace cutting between her buttocks; and she curses the contemporary perception of sexuality. Had she lived in the nineteenth century, she would have had enormous drawers, all lacy and going down to her knee, and would still be considered frisky and loose. Now she has this torture device on her and feels like a dog in a harness.

She parked in front of John's office building. As is always the case when she's nervous, she is early. The front door opens, and he comes out with a colleague. They're chatting, and the bloke claps John on his shoulder. She recognises him from the photo on the fridge. One of the footie team, a huge bloke with massive arms and a shaved head. John sees her car and hurriedly says his goodbyes.

He slips into the passenger seat and opens his mouth to say 'hello.' And no sound comes out. He's staring at her, and she doesn't blame him. The Mantis green wrap dress, mid thigh, sexy hairstyle showing her neck, and even - oh terror! - massive amount of tasteful make-up. Has she mentioned she's overwhelmed with the desire to claw her eyes out at the moment?

"Oh wow..."

His eyes are roaming her face and then they slide to the cut of her dress and down to her legs. He clears his throat.

"I mean, wow..."

She chuckles.

"I thought we were having a quiet dinner at home..." he rasps out. "I mean, I'm wearing a jumper and runners."

She rushes to reassure him, "We are! It's just my friend Bea came over, and she insisted on this!"

She gestures around the low cut of her dress, and his eyes are predictably there.

"I can never say 'no' to Bea. She's like a forest fire..."

He grabs the back of her neck and pulls her into a kiss. If she could talk at the moment, she'd also said 'Oh wow...' Because it's so bloody hot! She immediately stops regretting the knickers. If the dress alone worked so well, what is he going to do when he sees Bea's... gifts?

He pulls away and clears his throat.

"Sorry, that was a bit sudden..."

She grins, leans in, and catches his mouth. This kiss is slightly less rushed, but it feels just as amazing. Then she extricates herself out of his arms and starts the car.

"Where to?"

He's panting, God honest, panting.

"My place?" he offers eagerly.

"We were supposed to get some dinner."

She tries to delegate with her tone that she doesn't oppose to his idea in the least. Bloody hell, the dress is working! Look at those dilated pupils!