Don't Judge Me

I scurried back to the bath room, shedding my robe. All the girls were together, two on the bench, and two on the stone steps of the pool, and there was Luna, towering gracefully over the others, the only one wearing her towel.

All their postures were sullen. They all turned to me as I approached, and Mahogany asked the question, "Is she ok?"

"She's going to be just fine," I assured them all. "When you see her, give her a moment to... make peace, ok? I think you'll find she's keen to win back some trust and friendship. All she needs is a chance."

Everyone nodded and murmured their agreement, but the mood didn't break. There was something else.

"So...," Celine began, looking around to be certain she had all the others with her. The momentum gathered immediately behind her, the others all relieved that Celine would ask the question that everyone wanted asked.

The thick, misty air was dampening all sounds other than a low hum of some water mechanical equipment, whether filters or whatever, I had no idea how any of that works. Besides that it was silent. Sort of a low humming silence. Is that a thing? It's not really a silence, but it's like a silence because the... ok. I think I'm off the point.

She drew a deep breath, and blurted, "I mean... what the fuck did you say to her?" And it had the effect of breaking the almost oppressive blanket of suppressed feelings and held tongues that had been pressing down on the little group. With this question voiced, there were echoes from all the others, like, "Yeah, what did you say?", and "Oh my God I need to know", and similar.

I let the flurry of questions rise, break, and fall away like a wave on the shore, and allowed a moment of silence (you know, the humming sort), before responding, "I'm not proud of what I said, and it's not important what it was. What matters is that it really hurt Crystal and I hate that about what happened. But it's done now. Please, for my sake, let it go. What matters is that she and I have made up, and now Crystal will be ready to reset her relationship with each of you. Please be kind to her."

I surveyed the minds of the little group as I went from face to face with my plea. There was a distinct disappointment that I wasn't going to bring any salacious gossip and work everyone up into a bitchy frenzy, but more than that there was a deep respect growing for me. And trust. And deference.

A tinkling little bell rang.

"One hour to showtime!", Cordelia responded as she jumped up.

The group mobilized and headed for the exit in a sudden babble of chatter. Mahogany drew alongside me and apologetically said, "You missed out on hopping in the water. That's too bad. I was looking forward to... well, I wanted you get that chance."

I could tell she was being more than half truthful, but what she really wanted was to be in the water with me. She's such an affectionate little thing. I hooked her arm in mine, "I know. Another time. Thanks, Mahogany."

We got through the showers, and the dressing room was then a noisy gaggle of hair spray, perfume, sequined costumes and fishnets. The girls, I learned, were going to put on a little performance for Miss Havisham's guest, some sort of burlesque show. The one hour bell was a countdown to when the guest was going to arrive. The girls were able to tell me with confidence that the driver would have left earlier to go to the airport to collect this guest, because that's normally how this sort of thing went.

I kept an eye on Crystal, as she pulled aside the girls, one by one, even as she kept getting herself ready. There was talking, crying, hugging. She was really putting in the work. But mostly I got out of their way, and managed to blow-dry my hair in the shower room. I pulled my blue dress from the shopping bag, and remembered that the casual bra I had worn that morning would easily show through the stretchy, body-hugging fabric and look all wrong, and Miss Havisham had said the girls could help with that. I looked around among all the hectic activity of girls in front of mirrors, girls in various states of dress or undress, girls helping one another with their hair, or their outfits, and I didn't want to disturb any of them. But Crystal, having just finished with one of the others, looked up and saw me there and came to ask if I needed anything.

"Miss Havisham said you guys might have a bra I could wear with this?" I asked, grateful she had rescued me.

"Oh, absolutely!" she gushed. She motioned me to the large walk-in robe. At the far end there was a grand array of lingerie, arranged in various sizes like a shop. There were several neck-to-knee mannequines available for dressing so that garments could be compared and assessed. "Grab anything you need," she indicated the magnificent cache. She also gestured across the large section dedicated to shoes, containing everything from flats, to runners, to sandals, pumps, and even outrageous platforms, ABBA boots, and even clogs. "All the underwear and shoes are... well, they're yours once you've worn them, if you take my meaning. It all gets restocked all the time."

I let her get back to getting ready with my heartfelt thanks, and a genuine complement on her outfit, a fire engine red, stylized corset which sported a little tease skirt of short tassels, over fishnet stockings. She looked incredible, the high-cut outfit showing off her legs almost all the way to the top of her hip bone. An absolute banger of an outfit.

I then turned to survey this most marvelous hoard of treasure.

There were camisoles and corsets, bras and knickers, from thongs to briefs and everything in between, stockings and garters, suspenders, teddies, and more than I could take in. I carefully moved along the rows, wishing, in many cases, that I could wear what I found, but knowing that my dress for tonight would not suit it. Finally I found an incredibly pretty sky blue lacy matching set, a simple thong and a longline bra, both of which would keep my shape perfectly smooth under the unforgiving dress, without creating visible lines.

"A good choice," Miss Havisham's voice announced from somewhere behind me. Had I imagined it? I spun around to see her head popped around the corner of the robe, and behind her, the bustle of half-dressed girls.

"They're beautiful," I said, conscious, but not overly so, that I was naked, my dress over one arm, as I stood holding the underwear.

"When you're dressed, would you come downstairs and find me? These girls have a show to prepare for," she waved a hand at the chaos behind her.

I agreed to do just that, and she was gone.

The underwear was perfect. The dress looked, if I say so myself, absolutely smashing. When I found the sky blue open-toe sandals with just the one inch heel, the height that I preferred, I was in heaven. They were dainty and elegant, and I felt like a million dollars.

I found an empty vanity and sat down to find the makeup. Celine was next to me, having her hair braided by Pensee, and without turning her head she reached under the table and pulled out a kit for me, dropping it in front of me. "Here you go. Most everything you need will be in there. That's yours, now."

She was right. Everything was there. Brand new mascara, foundation, blush, lip liner, eye shadow, pencils..., and all of it the brand names I never dared to look at in the shop, because they cost an absolute fortune. it took only a few minutes to apply my face, luxuriating at every step in the finery, the quality, of the cosmetic products. Did life get any better than this?

When I was done, there was only 15 minutes to be downstairs with Miss Havisham. I collected up my makeup, dropped it in the shopping bag safely in a corner, and started hurrying to the door, "Break a leg, girls!" I called out to an excited, bubbling response.

As I rushed out the door onto the inner balcony of the entrance hall, I slowed myself. I had time. I didn't need to rush. Miss Havisham was downstairs, I saw, with three of the delicious young men I had met at lunch (were they the same guys I had met earlier? I couldn't tell from that distance. Did it matter? Pfft, no. Don't judge me)

I slowed myself to a confident stride, unhurried, thinking of how Miss Havisham would move along the corridor. My chin up, my shoulders back, I felt radiant.

When I reached the top of the stairs, Miss Havisham's little clutch of men noticed me. Or Miss Havisham drew their attention to me. Which was it? Who cares? I was the center of attention, and I looked amazing. I felt like some glamour star, maybe Sandra Bullock or something, making her grand entrance.

"She's beauty, and she's grace," I was reciting to myself as I descended the stairs. "She's elegance and taste," I couldn't remember where these quotes were from, but I was living them, glowing, to an audience of some of the most beautiful men on the planet, whose eyes were all on me.

And then I tripped.

Just a few steps from the bottom of the staircase, I awkwardly missed the step and came stumbling forward, ready to sprawl headlong on the gigantic mat at the base of the staircase. And I would have done so, probably losing some teeth, if not for Angelo.

Angelo stepped forward deftly and grabbed my as I fell, swooping me around him, which caused him to stumble as well. We both sort of danced backwards for several paces, off balance, before he held onto me and crash-landed us safely by rolling under me to break my fall, then on top as we came to a crushingly humiliating stop, entwined almost like lovers.

There was Angelo's perfect face above me, his amused smile making me want to shrink and completely disappear. His face was heralded, from my position underneath him, by the grand chandelier which hung above us, silently, motionlessly, surely laughing at me in my humiliation. His scent began its mocking assault on my senses as the air settled around us, taunting me as clearly as hurling tomatoes at the convicted whore paraded down the street in stocks, "Shame! Shame!"

"You are extraordinarily beautiful, ma jolie," and just like that he brought my whole humiliating, miserable little world crashing down, falling away from around us until we were alone, floating in an endless void, just the two of us, entwined almost like lovers, as he spoke flirtatious beatitudes over me, forever, and ever.

Until, of course, Miss Havisham exclaimed, "Are you alright, dear?" Then the spell was cruelly broken.

Angelo freed himself from me, ending my eternity in his arms somewhat prematurely, I felt. He lifted himself up on one knee while offering his hand. I allowed myself to be lifted, and nurtured and consoled, and resisted the urge to run away. For now. Because of course, Angelo had been so kind and I didn't want him to be embarrassed, ok? That's why. It was to protect the feelings of this kind, considerate, handsome, charming, attractive, powerful, hunky, strong, muscular, athletic, masculine, sexual, throbbing... err, um..., I forgot what I was saying just now. Never mind. I didn't run, ok? That's the point. I was fine. Just fine.

Fine.

Don't judge me.