For the second time in my life, I woke up naked. It was slow and gentle and enjoyable. I loved the relaxed comfort of being nude under the blankets, but I didn't immediately notice my lack of pajamas. I was very comfortable and I had been very tired the night before. I stretched and yawned and felt the sheets pull and slide across my skin delightfully. I opened my eyes just long enough to see that I was in Emily and Laura's bed again and that the morning sun was shining on my face. I turned away from the window, snuggled up against Emily and dozed off again.
My third nude awakening was just moments later. Emily was in bed with me! What had I done? Had I done anything? Shock flooded through me like adrenaline. I was wide awake now, but I couldn't move. I lay there with my face resting on Emily's hair and my naked body pressed against her.
Emily was not naked. I couldn't tell what she was wearing, but I could feel that her body was definitely encased in some kind of cloth. That was something, at least. As thin as the cloth was, there was at least a barrier between us. I had seen a lot in the past two days, but I wasn't ready for that level of intimacy. I wanted to thank God for small favours, but I would have been lying to Him, so I didn't.
I was refusing to admit it to myself, but I was enjoying Emily's closeness and warmth and scent. After all the things I had watched her do the night before, it was relaxing to just lie there. I even felt priviledged. Four different men had paid a lot of money to go to bed with Emily, and I was there by invitation.
I was secretly even a little disappointed that she was not naked. It would have been naughtier and this was my week to be naughty. Next week, I would stop being Crimson, the sexy sister of the erotic Scarlett. I would again be Karen, the daughter of John and Caroline. I'd go back to being meek and obedient and repressed.
It was a depressing thought and it made me very sad. Then it made me angry. Why did I have to go back to that? Why the hell couldn't I be whoever I wanted to be?
I made myself a firm promise. I would stop being afraid. This week, for the first time I could remember, I had allowed myself to make my own decisions. This was my life. It was high time I had some say in it. I would no longer be afraid of myself.
I embraced my new philosophy by embracing Emily. She snorted and mumbled something that sounded like "Graceland," but she didn't wake up. The warm sun and my newfound comfort with myself were relaxing. I fell asleep.
For the fourth time in my life, I woke up naked. Emily was awake and dressed ang gently shaking me.
"Wake up, honey. I think we're in trouble. Your sister wants to talk to us."
I sat up immediately, sleep and drowsiness gone. If I'd had a double dose of caffeine injected directly into my veins and a bucket of ice water poured over my head, I could not have been more alert. My sister had an intimidating presence.
My resolution wavered for a few moments, but held. I would not be afraid, come what may. I put on a robe that Emily lent me and I followed her into the living room.
"I had a phone call this morning," Michelle began, glaring coldly at Emily. "Mr. William Hauser wanted to thank me for sending Crimson over. I was quite surprised. I don't believe I have anyone by that name working with me. Would either of you happen to know to whom he was referring?
Michelle barely glanced at me, giving all her attention to Emily, who remained silent.
"Let me refresh your memory," my sister said, her voice dripping with anger. "Mr. Hauser, also known as the client 'Aztec' told me that he was partying with Katrina last night. During the party, the mysterious Crimson put on a little show. Apparantly, it was quite a performance. He couldn't stop raving about it. She made a definite impression. He described her act in great detail. It was a shy, amateur striptease, he told me, clearly done by someone who had never done such a thing before. It was followed by a scorching show of sensuous self-gratification performed by a real artist. The girl was a first-rate actress, he said. She really made him believe she was for real.
"Does any of this ring a bell?" Michelle said sarcastically. We didn't answer. "No? Doesn't sound even the least bit familiar? Maybe another hint will do the trick. I've got one more clue as to Crimson's identity; one final piece of the puzzle that might fill in those stubborn gaps in your memory.
"Before he hung up, Mr. Hauser reminded me that he worked in advertising. He said that referring to Crimson as my sister was an excellent marketing tool, the perfect hook for grabbing the customer's attention.
"It's amazing what you can learn from a telephone call. According to Mr. William Hauser, Senior Vice President of Modern Marketing and Research, Incorporated, I have turned my own little sister into a callgirl. I must be suffering from my own memory lapse because I don't remember this at all. I don't recall the discussion, or the decision, or the methods used.
"Emily, I'm surprised at you. First of all, we have made it a very strict rule that all parties are to be arranged beforehand by telephone, without exception. Never negotiate in person. You're just asking to be arrested. You know that as well as I do.
"Next is the matter of recruitment. We do need some more girls and we are planning to expand, but we agreed to wait until after Saturday's party to start making plans.
"Finally, how dare you bring my sister into this without asking me? You had no right to make that call on your own. What the hell were you thinking?
