-clears throat- Almost to the eeeennnnndddd. Aren't 'choo excited?
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Dirty Tricks

That night she dreamt of parties, dances, laughter, and dinners—nothing horrible came. She pictured herself dressed in nothing but silk and pearls, dancing with fine gentlemen, and being awed by the ladies. She was on top of the world.

But her dream ended so soon, as there was a knocking on her door.

"Excuse me, madam, but these have just arrived for you," the attendant announced when she opened the door.

"Huh?"

A bouquet of thorn less red roses was handed to her, attached was a card. But before she could question the attendant, he had disappeared down the hall. Closing her door, she walked slowly over to her dresser. She set the flowers down, and pulled off the card, which read;

Miss Grayham,

Hope you have had two nights well. I am truly sorry I kept you all night the other day, were your friends worried? I do hope not.

I do also wonder if my suggestion on your 'medicine' has worked. If it hasn't, continue with your proceedings, but I do wonder…

On another note, I hope you enjoy these beautiful roses for a beautiful young lady. The dinner starts at eight, so I will be there to pick you up at seven-thirty, no earlier, no later.

- Mister Malton.

The note made her laugh, how sincere he sounded! But she knew he could only be joking—the way she had come to know him. Handling the roses with care, she filled her sink with water and set them in until a vase appeared from no where on the counter top. Smiling, she filled the vase up about three-fourths of a way, and set the flowers in there instead. After doing so, she set them on her nightstand and studied them for a bit. Knowing these wouldn't die anytime soon, she'd cherish them for quite much longer.

The whole day she pampered herself—taking a shower, but then soaking in a bubbly bath, lathering her skin was softening lotion, brushing her curls into a softer, less curly hair style. So afraid was she to touch the dress, to even mess it up once, she let it hang where she had set it that morning.

But it was still so early! Biting her nails, she suddenly stops. Her nails! She would have to paint her nails. But what color? What would match her green dress? Definitely not red, from the sounds of it, Darian detested red. Blue wouldn't even match! Black seemed to… well, too 'blah.' It was now between an ivory white and silver. Hmm… Silver seemed better, so she cleansed her nails, shortened them a little, buffed, and softened them up a little before applying the first coat of silver, then another after they dried, then a clear coat to make them shine. Not to bad of a job, her nails, that is, when she wasn't professional or anything.

The time rolled on, she felt edgy, nervous, and slightly sick… Oh pray do hope that the sickness if just from being nervous. She did not want another scene like that morning which seemed so long ago now. This was going to be her night!

Six-thirty rolled around, and she applied her make-up, still refusing to touch the dress until seven. But then seven o' clock rolled around, and she couldn't hesitate any longer. Taking it down from the hanger, she slipped it over her arm and then laid it carefully on the bed.

"Oh, oh," she whispered, retrieving the shoes and accessories from the closet, also. She stared at the silk beneath her fingers for a moment before slipping it on. It felt more secure than the first time she had tried it on—odd, she couldn't have grown that fast. It couldn't have shrunk, ridiculous! Hmm, maybe she was just imagining it. But as she studied herself in the mirror for moments, turning this way and that, she noticed a dreadful, embarrassing thing.

Her panty line was showing.

"Oh no," she bit her lip, narrowing her eyebrows. "How can I go out, now? I'd be embarrassed beyond belief! But, there is one way…" she thought on this. If someone found out, would they think her a slut for wearing no underwear? Oh, Merlin, please no! But, against all odds, she decided to go commando, hoping that no one would find out—not even some random stranger.

It was just her body, the dress, the shoes, and accessories. Oh how she felt so dirty for not wearing underclothes.

But grabbing her little silver handbag, with her cardkey, some money, and other little things inside, she left her room, said good-night to her friends, and left for the lobby where Darian would be in a few minutes.

-&-

"You look astonishing tonight," a voice behind her said.

She turned, smiling, "Why thank you," dipping into a small curtsey. "And you, yourself." Darian's attire was a black suit, a crisp green oxford shirt underneath, and a silver tie. "And you just had to match me, didn't you?" she laughed.

"Oh yes, to make sure no one would catch you."

Perking a brow at him, she took his out stretched hand that would lead her into the night—the beginning of what was to come.

There was a limo waiting outside, a long, black limousine! Oh! The inside was adorned with green and silver—how queer. 'Did Darian have this set?' she wondered. Sliding down into the limousine on his hand, she set down in the cushiony leather, Darian slipping in beside her.

Once the door shut, they were off down the street, heading for some place.

"Where is this at, anyway?" she asked.

"At the old Victorian Mansion they use for dinners and parties only."

"Sounds exciting."

"Maybe for you."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Sighing, he resolved into a plain, "Nothing."

"Oh no, tell me, Darian!"

"It's nothing, Hannah. I was just thinking of something. Something highly important—but I can not speak of it. Please do not bother yourself with my dealings."

"Well…alright," she sighed, looking out the tinted window to the street.

The rest of the way was silence, so unbearable it was that she could have cried. Thankful that the car stopped for good and the door opened to let them out by the driver. First, Darian got out, and handed Hannah out. He locked arms with her, leading her up the walk to the house. But as she glanced around—to the gardens, the house, and then her glance rested on his face. It was like stone—what was wrong? His jaw was set, his silvery orbs cold, and a frown upon his face.

Tonight was supposed to be enjoyable, not troubling. She made a plan, to force whatever was troubling him out of his mind into her. She would have to get him to tell her, maybe she could help… maybe.