I tried to keep things simple: some foundation and concealer to cover blemishes and shore up my complexion, a little bit of eyeliner and mascara to accentuate my large eyes. I guess I got a bit carried away; I probably didn't need to add blush (I thought it gave a bit of color to my pale cheeks) or lip-liner and gloss (to make my lips more full and defined, duh!). But I had enjoyed the rhythms of applying makeup since Cindy taught me, and falling into the routine made my anxiety melt away, the time fly past. When I was done, I thought it was a job well done! I told myself the now undeniably feminine cast to my face wasn't THAT noticeable, and deep down I tried to fight back a bubbling surge of pride.
That pride dwindled again when I remembered the precariousness of my situation with Cindy, and once more felt the butterflies in my stomach. Luckily I only needed to pass another half hour or so, but the time dragged as I fretted over what I was sure would be an evisceration from Cindy, probably ending with her breaking up with me.
Even alone, my eyes widened and I moaned softly at the thought. She might be breaking up with me. It hadn't occured before, but now it was so obvious. And really, I deserved it. She was so out of my league, so beyond me in every possible way. I knew she was fucking Jaxx, probably more than they let me see, and I didn't care. I remembered (not quite clearly) her abuses; but more I remembered the release, how she took away my control and made me cum like I had never imagined possible, like I couldn't in my own hands. What she did to me... What she made me do... I was beginning to like it, the sense of utter helplessness and surrender to her will. And ultimately, I had faith in her to make choices for me. She had even protected me from Jaxx, his behaviour towards me changing overnight in a strange, but darkly promising way.
At that moment I made my mind up. I couldn't let Cindy break up with me. No matter what it took, no matter what she wanted from me, I would prove that I deserved at least a second chance. So I waited, now patient with my new purpose and resolve. When my phone finally dinged with a message from her, I nearly jumped out of my skin from the nervous energy.
Here. Car is a black prius. Hurry!
I hastily grabbed my keys and phone before flying out the door, ricocheting down the narrow corridors and slowing to a speedy walk as I left the building and headed to the street. When I swung open the car door, I was surprised to be met by Cindy's beaming, vulpine smile, disarming me with what seemed like genuine joy. She was a vision; her auburn hair cascaded down her thin neck to the shoulders of the black leather jacket she wore over what looked like a fluffy white sweater. The black jacket was very reminiscent of the once Jaxx had been wearing earlier that day (aside from the fuzzy lining peeking out) but I was distracted from the similarities by the rest of her look. Devestatingly long and lithe legs were mostly exposed under a dark purple miniskirt with enticing lace trimming, and I could see the tops of dark boots as I slid into the car.
As the driver pulled out into traffic Cindy warmly hugged me, the strength of her embrace always unexpected. I was on my back foot; I had expected a much different reception. Pressed firmly into her neck, strands of luxurious hair flowing across my face, I inhaled her intoxicating scent and my plans and anxieties and goals and worries all disappeared like smoke in wind. She broke the hug and began telling me about some drama at the sorority while I nodded and smiled, barely listening but entranced by her melifluous voice and ethereal beauty. Her red hair was so vibrant and powerful; it stood out perfectly where it fell against the black leather collar she wore popped up. The purple of the skirt and her sheer beauty lent her a majestic glow, even awkwardly turned to me in the back of a random car.
I don't know how long we rode. I was somehow engrossed by Cindy but simultaneously failing to comprehend or pay attention, too overwrought by my nerves and fears. I knew she could tell, too. I was being even more awkward than usual, stammering and bashfully avoiding eye contact like I had when I'd first met her. But she didn't comment on it, only giving me a strange, amused look that I might have imagined.
Eventually the car stopped. We were outside a fancy French restaurant in the center of the city our college was adjacent to. The entire area was well-lit from streetlights and storefronts, bustling with early evening crowds. A group of men in fancy suits was just going into the restaurant, standing out from the other more casually dressed city goers that strolled the sidewalks.
Cindy got out of the car, and I took a moment for a deep breath, steadying myself against what I suspected would be a long night. I caught movement in the corner of my eyes, and when I looked up I found my gaze met by our driver in the rear-view mirror. Because of the angle, I could only see a rectangle including his bloodshot eyes and the bridge of his nose, his skin swarthy, marred with spots and scars. A lank tuft of pure black hair jutted out into the reflection. The eyes sharpened as they met my gaze, and I found myself caught for a second, not knowing if he would speak. Then he winked lewdly, the other eye maintaining its hungry stare. I gulped and quickly exited the car. I guessed my makeup had been a little too effective... but I couldn't spend any energy on this new horror, I had enough to deal with concerning Cindy. I pushed it down and let a smile spread across my lips, thinking about how beautiful she looked.
Cindy was already strolling off towards the restaurant, boots clicking on the sidewalk, and as I hustled to keep up I was feeling a little self-conscious. I had clearly underdressed for the location, but it wasn't my faultβ Cindy hadn't told me where we were going! She paused to wait for me just before the door, and though I felt like my deficient attire was glaringly, embarrassingly obvious, she only flashed a smile before linking arms with me and leading us inside.
The restaurant was as refined and polished on the inside as it was the outside; pristine white walls, high ceilings and broad glass windows that gave the entire building an airy brightness. I was even more intimidated by the dining room, packed with couples and small groups, all dressed as fancily as the group I'd seen come in. All the people were beautiful, in different ways, but universally fit and attractive. Waiters and waitresses flitted around the room, dressed primly in black and white uniforms.
As we approached the hostess (a tall, model-esque brunette) her eyes scanned me quickly, and I saw her nose crinkle with distaste, like I was a bad odor slipping in off the street. Her eyes kept scanning, and the grimace turned into a broad smile as she recognised Cindy. Cindy smiled back, and they laughed in recognition before kissing the air by each other's cheeks, then fell into conversation. I was left sidelined, looking on awkwardly as the two beautiful woman spoke, neither inviting me into the conversation. Then the hostess made a signal with her fingers, and a waiter suddenly appeared, greeting Cindy and indicating we should follow him to our table. Cindy did so without even a glance in my direction, and I hurried along after her, hoping proximity could keep me safe from more critical looks.
Though they were dressed more expensively, the men here were the same as the boys at bars we usually went to. I could see heads turn to follow Cindy's progress between tables, eyes tracking her lithe, swaying figure. She was also followed by angry expressions on wives and girlfriends faces as they realised what their dates were looking at. It even seemed like one or two of the turned heads were following me as I was swept up meekly in her wake. I brushed it off as imagination, but I couldn't totally erase the sight of lecherous smiles from my memory.
We arrived at the table and waiter pulled out Cindy's chair, giving me slight side eye as he waited for her, then bustling away and returning shortly with menus. I was so intimidated by our surroundings, my self-consciousness, Cindy's unearthly beauty, that I could barely focus on the menu. We sat in silence to the background noises of muted conversations and silverware clinking. I felt awkward, but Cindy still had the same aura of preternatural self-possession, as if she owned the restaurant and was loaning her space to everyone else inside. Luckily, she realised my distraction and ordered for us both, getting a bottle of wine (no I.D. check necessary, obviously) and what turned out to be miniscule portions of fancy French vegetarian dishes with unpronounceable names.