Abby took a look at herself in the mirror. It had been a long, tortuous day of beauty rituals. Abby
had showered for 45 minutes, using ridiculously expensive scented shower gel and scrubbing herself
inside and out. She was sure that she had put her loofah in places it probably had never been before.
She had waxed every inch of her body until she was as smooth as the day she was born. She had
shampooed, deep conditioned, and blow-dried her hair, and then furthered the abuse by dousing with all manner of sprays,
and sizzling it with a scorching hot curling iron. Her face had been tweezed and
powdered, her lips were painted with "Ripened Cherry", which sounded like it should taste good,
but it didn't.
She remembered the last time that she had slaved this hard over her appearance. It was when she
was a senior in high school, preparing for her Spring Formal. When she had emerged from her
bedroom in her lavender chiffon gown, Maggie had beamed. "This is the most beautiful you have
ever looked in your life," she said, wiping away tears as she proudly snapped pictures. Abby, being
a typical 17-year-old, had rolled her eyes, embarrassed by her mother's overt enthusiasm and
affection. Now, at 30-something, she had a strange feeling that if Maggie were here to gush over her
again, she wouldn't really mind it so much.
Abby sucked in a deep breath as she pulled on control-top panty hose. She fiddled with her strapless
bra, at the same time wondering why in the world she bothered wearing such a ridiculous
undergarment. It wasn't supporting anything and would probably end up creeping down to her
stomach over the course of the evening. She slid into her strapless black dress and once again held
her breath as she struggled to pull up the zipper. Finally dressed, she stood in front of her full length
mirror to survey the fruit of her labor.
"Not bad," she whispered to herself. "As long as I don't breathe for the rest of the night, I should be
just fine." As uncomfortable as her outfit was, and as much as she was embarrassed to admit it, she
was secretly proud of the way she looked. Her dress, a slim, black, strapless column, hugged her
curves tightly. The curling iron had produced perfect waves in her silky hair, and the make-up
played up her best features. Her eyes looked large and luminous, her lips pouty and full. The
doorbell rang, shocking her back into the moment. She tossed her hair, straightened her dress, and
clicked through the apartment on high heels to answer the door.
Carter was dumbfounded as she threw open the door. She was breathtaking. His jaw dropped, and
words escaped him. Abby grinned and took over for him.
"Hi, Carter. You look great," she said. He truly did, dressed in a quietly expensive tuxedo.
"Yeah...um...wow..." he stammered, fumbling for words. "You look...amazing."
"Thanks," she smiled. "Ready to go?" Carter stared silently. Abby was pleased. It was nice to
know that her hard work hadn't gone unnoticed.
"Um, Carter?" she prompted.
"Oh...yeah, let's go." Abby pulled a black silk wrap around her bare shoulders and they headed out.
Carter tried to get his head out of the clouds as he helped Abby into the limo. He didn't want to
come across as a bumbling idiot on their first real date. They had been out for coffee a couple of
times. She had invited him over and ordered pizza once. And of course, there was the infamous
"dinosaurs and dancing" at the museum. But after a month or so of these "non-dates", as he thought
of them, he wanted to treat her to dinner at a nice restaurant.
The short ride to the restaurant was pleasant, but basically silent. They exchanged some idle small
talk, but there was a tangible tension between them. It was as if these two close friends were
suddenly strangers. It was slightly uncomfortable, but it also added some excitement, some
electricity, to the evening.
The limo pulled to a stop in front of an elegant restaurant. Carter leaned over to help Abby out of
the car. It was no easy feat for Abby to get out of the limo in her short, tight dress, but she clamped
her legs together and slid across the seat, trying to duck out as gracefully as possible.
The maitre'd took Carter and Abby directly to their table. Heads turned as the other diners watched
the beautiful couple make their way across the restaurant. The maitre'd pulled Abby's chair out for
her. He offered to take her wrap for her, and as she sat down, she slid it from her shoulders and
handed it to him. When she removed the wrap, she instantly felt that something was terribly,
horribly wrong.
It wasn't the shocked looks on the faces of Carter and the maitre'd that told her. It wasn't even the
slight gasp she heard from the lady at the next table over, or the soft chuckle from said lady's dinner
date. It was the slightly airy, open feeling just south of her neck that tipped her off. She glanced
downward, and her suspicions were verified. Her left breast had spilled out of the top of her dress
and was now sitting glaringly naked in front of the entire restaurant.
Abby turned fifteen different shades of red and tugged at her top. The maitre'd had the grace and
courtesy to quickly drape her wrap back over her shoulders and walk away from the table with his
eyes averted. Carter, having recovered from the shock, was now desperately biting the insides of his
cheeks to keep from laughing. He wasn't having much success.
"Stop it," Abby hissed.
"I'm...sorry...I..." Carter chortled. His eyes were tearing at the effort to keep the laughter at bay.
"I want to get out of here," Abby whispered. She was nearly shaking with humiliation.
"Abby, come on. Nobody saw it. It's not a big deal," Carter answered. He knew how embarrassing
it must have been for her, but he didn't want a silly incident to ruin their first date.
"Nobody saw it?! Come on, Carter, you're a better liar than that. They kitchen staff probably saw
it, for God's sake," she responded. Carter laughed and choked on a sip of water. He tried to
delicately spit it back into his glass without attracting even more attention to their table. Abby felt a
smile creeping across her face, in spite of her embarrassment. Carter reached under the table for her
hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Abby was determined to salvage the rest of their evening, so she
peeked downward to make sure that everything was back in it's proper place and picked up her
menu.
"Let's just order," she grumbled. Carter swallowed the last of his laughter and picked up his menu
as well.
"Do you want to get an hors de oeuvres?" he asked.
"Sure. What's good here?" she answered.
"I've always liked the prosciutto and..." he trailed off before finishing his sentence.
"And what?"
"And...melon,"he finished lamely, and waited for the inevitable. Sure enough, he felt a swift,
stiletto-heeled foot kick his shin from across the table.
had showered for 45 minutes, using ridiculously expensive scented shower gel and scrubbing herself
inside and out. She was sure that she had put her loofah in places it probably had never been before.
She had waxed every inch of her body until she was as smooth as the day she was born. She had
shampooed, deep conditioned, and blow-dried her hair, and then furthered the abuse by dousing with all manner of sprays,
and sizzling it with a scorching hot curling iron. Her face had been tweezed and
powdered, her lips were painted with "Ripened Cherry", which sounded like it should taste good,
but it didn't.
She remembered the last time that she had slaved this hard over her appearance. It was when she
was a senior in high school, preparing for her Spring Formal. When she had emerged from her
bedroom in her lavender chiffon gown, Maggie had beamed. "This is the most beautiful you have
ever looked in your life," she said, wiping away tears as she proudly snapped pictures. Abby, being
a typical 17-year-old, had rolled her eyes, embarrassed by her mother's overt enthusiasm and
affection. Now, at 30-something, she had a strange feeling that if Maggie were here to gush over her
again, she wouldn't really mind it so much.
Abby sucked in a deep breath as she pulled on control-top panty hose. She fiddled with her strapless
bra, at the same time wondering why in the world she bothered wearing such a ridiculous
undergarment. It wasn't supporting anything and would probably end up creeping down to her
stomach over the course of the evening. She slid into her strapless black dress and once again held
her breath as she struggled to pull up the zipper. Finally dressed, she stood in front of her full length
mirror to survey the fruit of her labor.
"Not bad," she whispered to herself. "As long as I don't breathe for the rest of the night, I should be
just fine." As uncomfortable as her outfit was, and as much as she was embarrassed to admit it, she
was secretly proud of the way she looked. Her dress, a slim, black, strapless column, hugged her
curves tightly. The curling iron had produced perfect waves in her silky hair, and the make-up
played up her best features. Her eyes looked large and luminous, her lips pouty and full. The
doorbell rang, shocking her back into the moment. She tossed her hair, straightened her dress, and
clicked through the apartment on high heels to answer the door.
Carter was dumbfounded as she threw open the door. She was breathtaking. His jaw dropped, and
words escaped him. Abby grinned and took over for him.
"Hi, Carter. You look great," she said. He truly did, dressed in a quietly expensive tuxedo.
"Yeah...um...wow..." he stammered, fumbling for words. "You look...amazing."
"Thanks," she smiled. "Ready to go?" Carter stared silently. Abby was pleased. It was nice to
know that her hard work hadn't gone unnoticed.
"Um, Carter?" she prompted.
"Oh...yeah, let's go." Abby pulled a black silk wrap around her bare shoulders and they headed out.
Carter tried to get his head out of the clouds as he helped Abby into the limo. He didn't want to
come across as a bumbling idiot on their first real date. They had been out for coffee a couple of
times. She had invited him over and ordered pizza once. And of course, there was the infamous
"dinosaurs and dancing" at the museum. But after a month or so of these "non-dates", as he thought
of them, he wanted to treat her to dinner at a nice restaurant.
The short ride to the restaurant was pleasant, but basically silent. They exchanged some idle small
talk, but there was a tangible tension between them. It was as if these two close friends were
suddenly strangers. It was slightly uncomfortable, but it also added some excitement, some
electricity, to the evening.
The limo pulled to a stop in front of an elegant restaurant. Carter leaned over to help Abby out of
the car. It was no easy feat for Abby to get out of the limo in her short, tight dress, but she clamped
her legs together and slid across the seat, trying to duck out as gracefully as possible.
The maitre'd took Carter and Abby directly to their table. Heads turned as the other diners watched
the beautiful couple make their way across the restaurant. The maitre'd pulled Abby's chair out for
her. He offered to take her wrap for her, and as she sat down, she slid it from her shoulders and
handed it to him. When she removed the wrap, she instantly felt that something was terribly,
horribly wrong.
It wasn't the shocked looks on the faces of Carter and the maitre'd that told her. It wasn't even the
slight gasp she heard from the lady at the next table over, or the soft chuckle from said lady's dinner
date. It was the slightly airy, open feeling just south of her neck that tipped her off. She glanced
downward, and her suspicions were verified. Her left breast had spilled out of the top of her dress
and was now sitting glaringly naked in front of the entire restaurant.
Abby turned fifteen different shades of red and tugged at her top. The maitre'd had the grace and
courtesy to quickly drape her wrap back over her shoulders and walk away from the table with his
eyes averted. Carter, having recovered from the shock, was now desperately biting the insides of his
cheeks to keep from laughing. He wasn't having much success.
"Stop it," Abby hissed.
"I'm...sorry...I..." Carter chortled. His eyes were tearing at the effort to keep the laughter at bay.
"I want to get out of here," Abby whispered. She was nearly shaking with humiliation.
"Abby, come on. Nobody saw it. It's not a big deal," Carter answered. He knew how embarrassing
it must have been for her, but he didn't want a silly incident to ruin their first date.
"Nobody saw it?! Come on, Carter, you're a better liar than that. They kitchen staff probably saw
it, for God's sake," she responded. Carter laughed and choked on a sip of water. He tried to
delicately spit it back into his glass without attracting even more attention to their table. Abby felt a
smile creeping across her face, in spite of her embarrassment. Carter reached under the table for her
hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Abby was determined to salvage the rest of their evening, so she
peeked downward to make sure that everything was back in it's proper place and picked up her
menu.
"Let's just order," she grumbled. Carter swallowed the last of his laughter and picked up his menu
as well.
"Do you want to get an hors de oeuvres?" he asked.
"Sure. What's good here?" she answered.
"I've always liked the prosciutto and..." he trailed off before finishing his sentence.
"And what?"
"And...melon,"he finished lamely, and waited for the inevitable. Sure enough, he felt a swift,
stiletto-heeled foot kick his shin from across the table.