Shit,
she thought, realizing she'd been so busy with work that she forgot to pick out an outfit for the special evening. She gave Tierra a kiss on the cheek. "Give me a moment to change, okay? I'll be right back."
Tierra nodded, her eyes following her mother as she scurried to her bedroom. Solana's mind buzzed as she stepped into her changing area, fingers brushing past her usual work attire and casual wear. She needed something special for the evening, an outfit that would make her feel confident and proud standing beside her daughter.
She pulled out a sleek black shirtdress, the silk material cool and smooth under her fingers. A bit on the casual side for what the evening calls for, she thought, but she didn't have the time or energy for a more formal outfit.
I can make this work
, she told herself as she draped it over the chaise and kicked off her heels, sighing in relief as her tired feet sank into the plush rug.
Reaching behind her waist, she unhooked the clasp and unzipped her skirt. With a wiggle and a tug, it dropped to the floor. She stepped out of it and moved toward the mirror.
Standing before her reflection, she began unbuttoning her blouse, working from top to bottom. As the center parted, her silver lace-trimmed bra came into view, followed by the gentle curve of her ribcage and the flat expanse of her stomach. With a shrug, the blouse slipped from her shoulders down her arms and into her waiting hand, which then tossed it onto the chaise.
Solana paused, scrutinizing her reflection for signs of age. She studied her breasts, cupping their weight from below and giving each a gentle lift and tap. Shifting her hands over the mounds, she felt the way they filled her palms and held their shape.
Still perky.
Tracing the lines of her cleavage, she wondered how long this defiance of gravity would last.
Where the lace ended, smooth, creamy skin began, interrupted only by the slender straps that curved over her shoulders. Solana's eyes traced the line of her shoulders, still proud of the youthful posture she maintained. Her back was straight, her shoulders pulled back, accentuating the curve of her collarbone and the hollow where her neck met her chest. The thought of standing any other way—less poised, less graceful—made her shudder with disgust.
Her eyes drifted to her stomach as she tightened her abdominal muscles, revealing subtle lines and ridges. Feeling playful, she pushed her belly out as far as she could, rounding it into a small bump. A girlish giggle escaped her lips as she poked at the slight swell, amused by the jiggle of flesh. She pinched the protrusion, shaping the skin into a crooked mouth.
Better watch out, Solana, or you'll end up just like this
, she imagined it saying.
Letting her stomach return to its natural state, her hands glided to her hips. She tugged at the waistband of her panties, pulling it up just enough to make the contours of her intimate folds more pronounced, then shifted her hips to adjust the fit for comfort as the material settled against her skin. She smiled, pleased that the same fit was just as perfect today as it had been when she was her daughter's age—still snug, still flattering.
She turned to check her butt in the mirror, admiring how the panties framed her curves, emphasizing their perkiness. Her hands glided over the rounded flesh, giving it a squeeze and enjoying the bouncy feel of the supple skin. "You're such a tease," she murmured as she delivered a playful slap. The unexpected sting made her hips buckle as she let out a yelp and giggled with delight.
Solana returned to face the mirror, her hands drifting down until her fingertips grazed the bands of her stockings. She traced the edges, taking pleasure in the sensory contrast between the smooth nylon and her supple skin. With the poise of a ballerina, she lifted her right heel and pointed her toes into the floor. In one fluid motion, she eased the stocking down her leg before gliding it back up, the band settling on her upper thigh with a soft snap. Stretching her leg, she ran her palms over the fabric, checking for snags. The seamless whisper of her caress confirmed there were none.
Finished with the other leg, Solana straightened her posture and reached for the black dress draped over the bed. She slipped it on, threading her lean arms through the sleeves that ended just above her biceps. The dress settled on her body, the open front framing a narrow strip of skin from her collarbone to just below her knees.
She fastened the first button just above her chest, pulling the fabric together to leave only a hint of cleavage. The silk stretched over the curve of her breasts as she secured the second button, the material molding to their pert shape. The third button drew the panels of the skirt across her hips, leaving the fabric parted below, framing the tapered lines of her legs.
Her hands moved lower, cinching the dress around her waist, the cloth highlighting the curve of her butt as the hem settled just below her knees. With the final button secured, she straightened and stepped back to review her reflection, turning in front of the mirror as her heels lifted with each shift.
Solana scanned her wall of shoes.
The black stilettos will complete the look.
Lowering herself onto the edge of the chaise, she slipped her right foot into the shoe, pressing down gently to feel the snug fit around her arch and heel. Her toes wiggled, adjusting as the soft leather conformed to them. She repeated the motion with her left foot, her arches settling into the curve of the stilettos. With both shoes on, she flexed her toes once more, settling into the fit before rising to her feet.
Standing tall, she felt the subtle shift in her posture, the stilettos lifting her chest and tilting her hips into a sinuous line. Lifting the hem of her skirt to mid-thigh, she admired her legs, lengthened by the heels, muscles tightening with each slight turn. Her lips curled upward as she returned to the mirror, a cold glint in her eyes as she took in her reflection.
Reaching for a brush, she began smoothing her dark hair, her wrist moving in rhythmic strokes. With each pass, her head tilted to one side, her hair falling in waves just below her shoulders.
She paused, fingers combing through the strands as her eyes searched for any trace of gray. A sigh slipped when she found one, wincing as she plucked it out. Her focus returned to the way her hair framed her face, as if the flaw had never existed. But no brush could erase the deeper truths etched into her features.
Her face, arresting in its haunting beauty, still compelled second looks—drawing people in while leaving them unsettled. Where youthful exuberance once animated her features, her high cheekbones now exuded a regal grace. Her large almond-shaped eyes, formerly doe-like, now held an elusive coldness—the legacy of trust betrayed and illusions shattered. The mouth that had once curved effortlessly into smiles now rested in a straighter line, a testament to disappointments weathered and expectations unmet.
With a final glance of the mirror, Solana smoothed the dress over her hips. She exhaled, centering herself.
I still have it, ladies and gentlemen, bitches and perverts.
She stepped out of the room, her heels striking a confident rhythm on the hardwood floor.
In the hallway, Tierra was applying a final layer of gloss to her lips, the sheen catching the light. As Solana approached, their eyes met, and Tierra's face brightened with a smile, dimples forming on her cheeks.
"Wow, Mom," Tierra said, slipping the gloss into her purse. "You look amazing."
"Thank you, sweetheart."
"Shall we?" Solana asked, offering her arm. Tierra nodded, looping her arm through her mother's. Together they walked down the hall, the rustling of their dresses mingling with the click of their heels.
As they reached the front door, Solana glanced at Tierra. "Ready?"
"Ready."
