Free This Darkest Man by Sinden West Page B

everyone they were
delivered to me by accident.” I passed them to her over the half wall that we
shared, and she gave me a puzzled look but took them anyway. I left the card on
my desk and strode off to the bathroom. I felt a sheen of sweat on my skin, and
when I looked in the mirror, I saw a pale girl who looked sick.
    How
could I let him have this effect on me? And what was I upset about the most?
The ring, the questions I had, or, and it shamed me to admit it, never having
his hands on me again? This was beyond pathetic, even for me. How could my body
possible want someone whom I loathed so badly? He was a bad person. A horrible,
cruel, bad man. For some reason, he just made me want to act like a
wanton slut.
    I
nearly groaned at that realization, and remembered how my aunt used to call my
mother names like that. I didn’t want to be like my mother, but I also didn’t
want to be a prim and proper old maid who never had any fun.
    “What
would be the harm?” I asked the girl in the mirror. “No one would know you.
Everyone in that club would have done far worse. Take a risk.”
    Someone
entered then, and I promptly shut up and returned to my workstation. I couldn’t
concentrate, of course, my mind continuing to play ‘what if?’ The day wore on,
and eventually, I took a card and wrote on it.
    Why?
    That
was it. With shaking hands I called a courier to come and collect it as I
slipped it into an envelope and wrote the address of Hellman’s head office.
There was no reply back, and I hurried home, desperate to get to the safety of
my apartment.
    I
wasn’t home long when a parcel was delivered to my door. The writing on the
card was familiar, and I ripped it open.
    Be
ready at 10. Wear this and nothing else.
    I
pulled the ribbon from the accompanying box and slipped off the lid, hooking
the fabric with one finger and warily pulling it free from the tissue paper. I
sat there for a long while, holding the items as my mind raced. Did I want to
do this? Could I do this? In public? Risking humiliation?
    But
other thoughts intruded as if a little devil were sitting on my shoulder and
whispering in my ear. Do it, Matilda. How could this be worse than any other
humiliation that you’ve ever suffered?
    I
found myself undressing, discarding each item of my boring corporate wardrobe
and letting it fall to the ground. And then I stood completely nude in front of
the full-length mirror. This girl was pale and innocent. She was…boring. She
had never done anything interesting in her whole life.
    My
eyes moved to the scarlet garments that lay in a pile. They nearly had more
life than I did with their vivid color dominating the room and making
everything else, myself included, pale in comparison. I took a breath, and
reached for them.
    The
minutes ticked by and the hour of ten drew closer. I stood dressed in scarlet
and was almost unrecognizable. The bra and panties were scarlet lace, with
matching stockings and garters. Over the top of these, I fastened the cape. It
was a rich scarlet velvet that skimmed just below my bottom and had a large
hood. I tried to adjust it so it sat over my shoulders, but it wasn’t designed
for that and kept slipping to my back so I was uncovered. The shoes matched as
well; they were dangerously high stilettos but they weren’t uncomfortable. They
seemed perfectly molded to my feet and I managed to take a few steps without
falling flat on my face. I pulled the hood up over my head; it was large and
hung over my face in such a way that left my features in shadow. That was
better. You couldn’t tell that it was me like that.
    I
jumped as the doorbell rang, nearly falling in my heels. I took a deep breath.
This was it. I grabbed my coat and securely belted it around my waist before
opening the door. It was the same driver who had taken me home the night before.
He nodded at me, and without a word turned to lead me out to where the car
waited.
    My
heart started to beat more rapidly the closer we got to