Page 13 of Tempt Me

I sat forward on my chair as a thought blazed through my brain. This was my chance to go out in public dressed as sexy Memphis.

I checked my watch. I still had seven hours until work.

A commotion coming from the walking path below drifted up to my balcony, and I stood to look over my railing. Down below, a group of guys walked out of my hotel dressed in costumes and talking and laughing so loudly I could almost hear everything they said despite being four floors up.

One man wore a Spiderman costume. There was a pirate who was the spitting image of Captain Jack Sparrow, a Star Wars Storm Trooper, and four different-colored Power Rangers. As they shuffled up the walking path, one last guy raced to catch up to them—Batman. His cape shifted from side to side with his gait. He was taller than the rest of the men, and his broad shoulders filled the costume perfectly. When he reached the group, not one of them acknowledged his late arrival, and I wondered if they would have left him behind.

For some inexplicable reason, I felt sorry for him.

I knew what it was like to not fit into a group. Growing up in a small town in country Australia meant that my choices of friends were limited. My school had less than one hundred and sixty kids. Being the chubby one in my school meant I was always good fodder for picking on, mostly by boys, but the girls could certainly bring on the bitchiness when it suited them.

The insults didn’t usually bother me. I guess I always knew I’d leave Mildura and move somewhere more exciting, so making life-long friends was never important. It was ironic that the only true friend I’d had, Chelsea-Lee, turned out to be the greatest bitch of all when she stole my fiancé from me.

With that shitty thought driving me, I grabbed my things and hiked downstairs to catch a taxi to Pacific Fair Shopping Center.

It was time for a new costume for Memphis.

Costumes On the Coast was a hive of activity, and I had a sinking feeling that I may have left my purchase too late. I strolled up and down the aisles without any clue what I was looking for. A Batman costume fitted to a mannequin in the window gave me an idea. I sought out a staff member.

The small Asian woman behind the counter greeted me with a weary smile.

“Hi, can you help me please?” I said. “My boyfriend is going to Supernova as Batman; is there a costume that would go with that?”

Her eyes glanced over my body, sizing me up, I guess. “For you, lovey, I have a few options.” Her English was so perfect I imagined she’d lived in Australia her whole life. “Hopefully, I haven’t sold out. It’s been a crazy couple of days.”

She was quick on her feet, and I raced to catch up with her as she dodged the people down the crowded aisle.

“We had some Batgirl . . .” Her voice trailed off as she flicked through a rack of clothes. “No, sorry, they’ve all gone.”

“What else is there?”

“I think Poison Ivy is made for you.” As she toddled off, I wondered who or what she was referring to.

In the middle aisle, she plucked out a plastic bag and held it toward me. “You’re in luck. The change rooms are back there; go try it on.”

I walked where she’d pointed, then slipped behind the curtain and tugged the costume from the bag. The green-boned corset was the feature of the costume, but there was barely anything to it. I doubted my boobs would fit. The other bits and pieces were green fishnet stockings, green satin underpants to match the corset, elbow-length green gloves, and a green mask.

The only thing that wasn’t green was a fiery long red wig, which was of poor quality compared to the almost human-hair wigs I’d bought the other week. Fortunately, one of my wig purchases was a striking copper color that fell to my shoulders. If this costume fitted me, not only would it be a miracle, but it seemed I had the perfect wig to go with it.

Holding the corset against my torso, I judged it for size. This was going to be tight. “Oh, what the hell?” I said to myself as I began to undress.

I was an expert with fishnet stockings, having worn them several times in my Memphis disguise over the last couple of months. The corset, however, was a different story. It had multiple bones that ran in parallel lines up my torso, and to do the corset up, I had to wriggle tiny hook-and-eye clips into place at my front. The battle came at my boobs, where the fabric finished halfway across my nipples. To get my breasts in, I had to tuck my nipples downward and, at the same time, plump the bulk of my breasts upward. The result, when I wrestled the final clips into place, was a very narrow waist and great bulging mounds that threatened to burst from the top.

My first thought wasno freaking way, but as I turned from side to side in the cubicle, I realized this was exactly the type of outfit Memphis would wear. I put the mask on for the finishing touch and smiled.

“Well, hello, Poison Ivy.” I giggled as I admired my reflection.

Once I clipped out of the outfit and could breathe again, I shoved all the pieces back into the bag. The exhausted Asian woman smiled at me as I placed it on the counter. “I knew you’d like it.”

“It’s going to drive my boyfriend wild.” It shocked me how easy it was to lie. Then again, since the first of January this year, my whole life has become a lie. During the day, I was mousy Plain Jane, but when the stars were all aligned, I became Memphis, a cheeky seductress. Thank God no one but Lolita and her husband knew about my secret, or else they’d have me carted off in a padded wagon.

I caught a taxi back to my hotel and ran the gauntlet through reception, hoping Marjorie, the afternoon manager, didn’t see me. I’d be stuck with her for at least twenty minutes if she did. Thankfully, the elevator was at reception, and I jumped in and pressed the button for my floor.

In my room, I applied my meticulous makeup to create Memphis and shoved my hair into the fiery copper-colored wig. I wriggled into my new costume again and opened my closet to scour my range of shoes.

I found the perfect pair. They were a similar shade of green to my costume, with wrap-around ankle straps and killer heels. I didn’t know what I’d been thinking when I bought them, because they hadn’t been worn yet. It was as if they’d been waiting for this very moment.

When I finally looked in the mirror, Poison Ivy looked back at me, and I liked what I saw.

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