After my shower, I stepped out of the bathroom to find a gorgeous black midi dress with a pencil skirt and white trim waiting for me. It was not something I would have ever chosen for myself but I had to admit the white Dorset buttons trailing from the left side of the waist, down to the thigh were absolutely stunning. To the left of the dress were two white paper bags and on the floor in front was a tan colored shoe box with something scribbled over the top.

A quick look through the bags had me finding a hair brush, basic makeup in the perfect shades, and a black lace demi bra and matching panties. The cups of the bra were so low I thought they might not cover my nipples. I almost refused to wear the racy lingerie, but when I found I had no other option, I slipped them on and…

I looked good. I was almost too curvy for the ensemble but my softness spilled over in just the right way. On top of that, it made me feel confident. It made me feel sexy.

Who knew?

There was a moment when I lifted the dress that I was sure it was going to be too small, but I shimmied the skirt up and over my thick thighs quite easily. I opened the box on the floor and gasped at how beautiful the black pumps inside were. I slipped the red-bottomed heels on effortlessly and although a small smile teased my lips, my brow furrowed as a thought struck me.

How did Ettore know my sizes?

I didn’t time to think on it. Instead, I brushed my hair and used the travel size hairspray to tame my awful fly-aways. I applied a light coat of foundation and layered my mascara until my lashes were thick and long, and when I got around to looking at my reflection in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. Apart from the deep purple bruises around my neck, I looked classy in a way that screamed wealth.

Now, in the car, Ettore and I hadn’t spoken a word to each other, but as I kept my eyes ahead, from my peripheral, I could see him glancing over at me more than was wise.

Knowing I commanded his attention had me warm in places I shouldn’t have been. I shuffled in my seat, restlessly. I turned away, flushed, when I caught Ettore adjusting the hard ridge of his crotch.

The sexual tension grew and grew until it filled the cab of the car and it suffocated, and then I found myself blurting out, “Thank you for the dress.” He looked at me with a marred brow, so I added, “It’s beautiful.”