Free Tempted by Evil by Amber Lynn Natusch, Shannon Morton

sea of makeup spewing forth from it.
    Makeup ?!
    A wave of panic washed over me as I grappled with the notion that Julian envisioned an afternoon with someone looking far more like Helen of Troy or Scarlet O'Hara than plain old me. Deciding I would never be a contender without a shower, I hauled my acquisitions over to the closet and hung up the outfit, while gently placing the boots front and center on the floor. The small cosmetics pouch found a home on the bathroom counter, and I quickly peeled out of my clothes and climbed into a scalding hot shower, eager to try on the new ones hanging in the wardrobe. I tried desperately to expedite the process; however, it proved to be an exercise in futility. Showers were always a lengthy process once my insanely long locks were involved and something about washing my hair always felt like a chore to me. Perhaps it was because it took at least twenty minutes to accomplish.
    While I fell into the normal routine of sudsing and rinsing, the earlier events with the lady by the sea invaded my thoughts yet again. With disturbing clarity, the advice from the unusual woman replayed in my head, her curious stare focused on me the entire time she delivered her strange message. Allowing the water to wash the last of the conditioner from my hair, I closed my eyes and prayed that it would have a cleansing effect on my brain as well. The encounter had been another that was beyond strange, and I just didn't want to think about anymore. I simply wanted to enjoy my first date with Julian.
    Julian, who clearly expected me to look beautiful.
    I winced slightly at the mere thought and turned off the shower. After I stepped out and draped a towel around myself as well as another around my hair, I decided to handle the situation like a semi-mature individual instead of the pathetic little creature I felt like. Slipping into the brand-new clothes left on my doorstep earlier that morning, I towel dried my hair and ran a comb through it before adding some Moroccan oil a woman at work gave me to keep the frizz away.
    I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, armed with an array of supplies to assist with my mission. The clock on my nightstand provided a rush of hysteria along with a shot of adrenaline at the reminder that Julian was to arrive in less than twenty minutes. Was I really in the shower that long? Fewer that twenty minutes separated me from my first official date.
    With Julian.
    As excited as I was to see him, I couldn’t help but be equally nervous about the idea of going on my first date. I was terrified I would do something completely mortifying, and he would realize that I was plain old Jane Eyre to his sophisticated Mr. Rochester. Attempting to put those thoughts out of my mind, I opened the small makeup bag on the counter and stared at the contents. They brought about an entirely new sensation of trepidation.
    I tried to focus on the task at hand by pulling out a compact of blush. I prayed that makeup was as magical as girls made it sound while I swiped the brush across the compact before lightly dusting the apples of my cheeks. Next up was mascara. I eyed the wand hesitantly as I removed it from the tube. It was positively frightening in appearance, like a medieval weapon of some kind on a much smaller scale. Taking a deep breath, I leaned in close to the mirror and swept the black brush through the upper fringe of my left eye. Blinking several times to clear my vision, I repeated on my right eye and stepped back from the mirror to admire my handiwork. I was horrified to notice that while my top lashes looked dark and full, my bottom lashes appeared nonexistent. Stepping back toward the mirror I moved the brush back and forth through both sets of lower lashes. When I was satisfied I had successfully coated each one sufficiently and wiped away the stray marks I'd painted on my face accidentally, I exchanged the mascara for the clear lip gloss to complete my look.
    Stepping back from the mirror,