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"TEASING ME" SEASON 3, EPISODE 6"

 Teasing Me 

Season 3

Episode 6

The look on Hope’s face when I open the door is more than a confirmation, and when I step on the pedestal in front of the mirrors I know. “This is the one.”

“Without a doubt,” she says. “Here.”

She hands me a pair of matching high heels, and they make me feel even more like a badass. I never thought lingerie could make me feel this…awesome. But then again, it works for Wonder Woman, so why not me?

“I also thought you might need this.” She hands me a small black mask. It’s not fancy, just a simple black one that covers the eyes, but she’s right. It gives me the exact air of mystery I’d been hoping for.

“Wow.”

“It’s perfect,” she says.

I nod, unwilling to step away from the mirror yet. “Thank you, I really didn’t think I was going to find anything.”


“Glad I could help. I’m sure whoever he is will be knocked off his feet.”

“I hope so,” I say, pressing my lips together. I do, I hope he even remembers the girl from the coffee shop this morning, and that maybe he’ll…I don’t know, like me? I didn’t lie to Sandra, I’m not going to this party with the intention of having sex, but if something were to happen, I wouldn’t say no. It’s been so long, the idea of a night of sex without any attachments practically makes my mouth water.

Hope helps me off the pedestal and I get dressed and buy the entire outfit. It’s more than I should spend, but it’s too perfect, and I’m too committed to this now to back out. She wishes me well as I leave the store and head into the fading heat of the day. Now to head home and get ready for this. I need hair and make-up to match the outfit.

I suppose no amount of hair and make-up or lingerie was going to erase the anxiety I feel now that I’m at the club. My hair is curled and pulled back, and I used some long forgotten shimmer spray I found in my vanity that makes my blonde hair just a little brighter. My lips are dark, and my eyes are too, making them smoky and mysterious inside the mask. I’m wrapped inside a trench coat I haven’t worn in years. Arizona rarely has weather that requires a trench coat, but I’m glad I have it because it’s the only way I was getting out of the house. I’m sure that the club has some place where people can dress, but it felt weird.

I take a deep breath and exit the car, and approach the door. The guy at the door is maybe the tallest guy I’ve ever seen, and I have no doubt that he could take someone down, but he seems friendly. “Can I see your ticket?” I show him the ticket on my phone. “The party is downstairs. Welcome to Club Deep.”

“Thanks,” I say, but then I pause. “Actually, I was wondering something. I ran into a guy today, he’s the one who told me about the party. Is there a way to find out if he’s here?”

“What’s his name?”

I swallow. “Hudson Carlisle.”

He looks surprised. “Yeah, I can check. What’s your name?”

“Christine Everett. Or if that doesn’t ring a bell you can say the girl who spilled coffee on him.”

He turns away and mumbles into a radio which must be in his ear. It’s only a minute or so before he turns around smiling, “If you’d wait at the main bar, Mr. Carlisle will join you in a few minutes. He’ll be available soon.”

Wow. “Is he some kind of V.I.P. here?”

“You could say that,” the guard answers and opens the door for me, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Inside there’s a wide staircase that leads down to what sounds like club music and a crowd, but right here there’s a coat check. Moment of truth I suppose. I walk over, and a pretty girl takes my coat and purse. I pull out the mask and put it on, and she gives me a wristband for my coat. That’s nice, most clubs—the few I’ve been to anyway—have paper stubs and you usually have to stow them in your bra.

I take a deep breath as I go down the stairs. I’m really doing this. I am.

It’s both everything I expected and not what I expected at all. The huge open space I walk into is filled with people in various states of undress and tons of costumes—everything from actual Wonder Woman to a man walking around in a red latex body suit with a pitchfork. Caged dancers in angel costumes hang from the ceiling around the room. The music is sensual and everyone seems to be moving in that way that speaks of sex in the air. Speaking of sex, that’s happening too. All around the room on brightly lit stages, people are just doing it right out in the open.

_________


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