I don’t have to worry if someone in the audience watches me too long. I don’t have to worry about making eye contact and really selling my performance because it could possibly get me in trouble later. I can be simply present and feel beautiful. He makes me feel beautiful.
My lighting and music cue sounds and I step out onto the runway. Camera flashes pop all around me and I walk to the beat, one foot in front of the other, using my hands to work the dress with every step before hitting my mark at the end.
I take that moment to glance to my left and, just as he promised, Tristan is sitting in his seat with a prideful smile and a puffed-out chest as he applauds with the rest of the audience.
The look in his eye is what captivates me though. It’s full of promise.
Promises of touches, kisses, praise, admiration, and every shade in between. I know then that I want him to wash me clean of Evan in every way. That hold on me ends tonight. The music creates a beat in my head and chest. I keep remembering what Tristan said about my shoes. What he didn’t know earlier is that with each change of clothes, I will be showing more skin.
What that represents is a return to power. No more hiding. What this show is giving me is that vehicle for myself. They don’t know my story. No one in here does but Tristan and me. Even still, I know that with every stride and turn, I’m representing something bigger than myself.
I reemerge from backstage for my next walk, now wearing a shorter backless white dress and my hair is down with half still pinned up in some complicated design, but I’m still wearing the same heels.
Tristan’s face is stoic when I make it to him as he gazes upon me in appreciation, and unexpected emotion washes over me. I feel powerful in a way I haven’t felt in years. I want to bottle up this feeling and keep it right with me for the rest of my life. I’m shedding layers of fear, layers of insecurity, and I’m becoming the phoenix that has always lived inside of me that Evan had tried to snuff out.
And by the last outfit of the night, I’m in lingerie. It’s not demeaning in any way. It’s sexy, classy, and makes me feel like I’m on top of the world… and when I reach the end of the runway for the final time, I pull the pins out of my hair and let the brown mane flow over my shoulders. I shake it out to the cheers of the crowd.
The lavender silk floats all the way down to the middle of my calves. When I turn back the material shifts across my body in the most delicious way. I don’t know if it’s a coincidence or by divine intervention, but I’m directly in front of Tristan for the final bows of the night. I know I should look at everyone in my view, but I can only see him. As I make my way back to the wings, I make certain he can see how low the back is on this nightgown and maybe we’ll get to take it with us as well.
There is a flurry of activity as soon as we step out of sight.
I’m changed out of the lingerie and I step into my tight, black body-con dress that I’ve chosen for the evening, and when I move to slip off the lilac heels, the designer taps me on the shoulder and tells me to keep them because I looked too confident in them to give them up.
This night just got even better.
***
The rest of the night will consist of mingling, music, and drinks flowing. I’m excited to be here, to be at an event like this again, but all I can think about is getting back to Tristan.
I weave through the crowd, my eyes moving back and forth, searching for him with no luck… until I feel his hand slide across the small of my back and his lips press into my ear from behind.
“You kept the shoes,” he whispers, and I can feel the heat of his fingertips through the fabric.
“I did. They were a gift. The designer thought I looked too confident in them. I have to say I feel that way. Did you like the show?”
“Petal, it was a near orgasmic event.”
I smile at his words and look toward my left as he anchors to my side. “Just near?”
“Yes. You were too far away from me for the total experience.”
“Well, I’m here now.”
“Indeed you are.”
“Feed me something delicious, get me a drink, then find a closet or a corner…” I say with a wicked smile, riding this wave of confidence as far as I can.
“Your wish is my command, Petal.” He offers me his arm and I slide mine through, hooking us together.
He works the room with me like a pro, finding someone to talk to while we nosh on small bites of cheese and fancy hors d'oeuvres, charming them with talks of nineteenth century art and its influence on culture today. Watching him here like this makes my stomach tighten even more than it was earlier. With each passing minute, I only want him more.
Tristan takes the empty glass from my hand and offers to fill it for me while I take a few social media shots with some of the other models. I haven’t been on those sites unless someone picked up a story in a rag mag or article online. For the first time in a long time, even though I know Evan is still out there, I’m not afraid. I know Tristan will protect me and that I don’t have to live my life in fear. The words of the evening and the meaning for which the funds raised tonight represent, I’m back to me.
I laugh as they shoot picture after picture with their cell phones. I even see some of the designers and patrons getting in on the moment. That’s when I see him. Halfway across the room Tristan has his phone out taking pictures of his own.
That familiar buzz of excitement dances on my skin and I find myself posing for him, even as I take pictures with and for others. A little arch of the back or a flip of the hair to expose my neck, small things that mean nothing to the random eye, but I know drive him absolutely crazy for me.
My eyes flit to him occasionally, just to see if he’s still there and of course, he is, but he’s getting closer and closer to me until he’s so close that I can feel his heat and smell the sandalwood and teak of his cologne.
“Petal,” he says into my ear. “May I steal you away from the party for a moment?”
“Just a moment? Is that all it’ll take?” I smirk.
“That depends on a number of factors.” He leans in closer. “If we’re close to being caught, how many times I can make you come, or if I let you come at all.”
I can feel my jaw go slack and even among the constant white noise and conversation around us, I hear my own gasp followed closely by the low growl in my chest.
“Steal me away. Now. I mean now, now.”
I don’t have to say anything else. He takes my hand in his and makes my excuse for me, telling the other models and press that I’m needed for a quick conversation elsewhere, then he whisks me away and leads me through the crowd.
Tristan sets a doorstop in the opening of a heavy door near the wing of the still lit runway. We vanish up a small flight of three stairs to a secluded landing. I have no idea how he knew where it was. It’s like it magically appeared. We can still hear the after-party going on outside these walls. We’re hidden in the dark from passersby, but if they looked hard enough, they could absolutely see the door propped open and could find us here.
“What if someone sees us, Tristan?”
“Maybe they will learn something.”
“Oh God,” are the only words that manage to leave my mouth before he is on my neck, pressing me back into the cold, concrete wall.