Page 53 of Saved By My Buyers

“Can I help you?” someone asks. Turning I see that she works here, and I decide to put myself out of my misery.

“Yes,” I say, giving her a small smile. “I have a special date, and want to make sure I make an impression. I’m thinking of something that says ‘confident and sexy,’ while still being comfortable. Does that even exist?”

The woman in front of me is in her forties, and gazes at me critically.

“I need to see a bit more of you before I can help,” she admits. “Maybe we can start with your head?”

Grinning because she’s right. I’m very bundled up, I drop the hood back and unbutton my coat. I’m wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater with boots, which seems to be a staple for me.

Style is swapped for not freezing to death, the clothes whatever I was able to find at the thrift store.

“I have some ideas,” the woman says with a nod. “I’ll be right back.”

Fifteen minutes pass and I’m beginning to worry that she forgot about me. Am I having a Pretty Woman moment? I didn’t think she was judging me, but I’ve been wrong before.

“I am so sorry,” the woman gushes, walking toward me with her hands full. “You’re so gorgeous, my mind went wild. You can wear so many different styles and wow whoever you’re dressing up for!”

Suitably and happily surprised, I grin as I thank her, walking into the dressing room with the options as she leaves for a moment. I look around, trying to decide what I’m going to try on first.

Slowly, I start to try things on, losing myself to the pretty fabrics and how they fit.

“I feel so badly that I spaced, please show me anything that you’re not absolutely sure about. I closed this section of the dressing rooms so you have complete privacy,” the woman says, coming back.

I hold back a squeak of surprise, because my nerves are shot.

“Ah, thank you, but that wasn’t necessary,” I say, looking at myself as I twirl around in an outfit. It's baby pink, and I wrinkle my nose at it. “Although, I will say that this pink is not my shade.”

“Seriously, hand over whatever doesn’t work,” the woman gushes. “You’re saving me from straightening a display case someone just destroyed.”

Chuckling, I change into something else, giving the saleswoman the pieces I don’t like. I dress in next to nothing for work, yet somehow now I’m shy. Maybe it’s these fluorescent lights? No one looks good underneath these.

The sixth outfit is a black teddy with a deep bust that somehow has enough lift underneath my breasts to make them look amazing. The back is made up of stretchy straps, leaving nothing to the imagination, while the front consists of gorgeous black lace.

“I think this is the one,” I murmur. The saleswoman encourages me to step out, and has me turn at all angles to look at the outfit.

“Whatever you want it for, you’ll definitely slay,” she says with a grin. “How do you feel?”

“Less nervous,” I say truthfully. “It’s so beautiful, it helps me feel it too.”

Clapping excitedly, she nods. “Then this is the one,” she says.

My lips smile widely as I agree. Moving to change, I close the fitting room door behind me to remove the outfit. I’m excited this is the last thing I need outside of maybe a Brazilian wax a few days before the event.

There are few things I’ll spring for, but this is one of them. Once I’m dressed with my purse securely over my head underneath my coat, I open the door to find someone to ring me up.

Surprisingly, the saleswoman is still outside, and she escorts me to an open register.

Quickly and efficiently, she rings me up, and I force myself not to wince when I hand her three hundred dollars. Fuck me, that hurt, especially after just paying rent. I swear, Frankie overcharges me for the hovel we live in, but I have to remind myself that it’s better than living on the streets.

Taking my bag with my lingerie, I thank her and walk out of the store with my hood over my head. I make a stop to eat before I head home, feeling tired after the long bus ride. My roommates are having a fucking party when I get home, my heart hammering as I hope no one as been in my room.

“Hey,” Frankie says, sounding high, his pupils blown as his hand wraps around my throat. Shoving me into the wall, he snarls at me. “You think you’re too good to get fucked up with us?”

“No,” I say loudly, over the music. “My work has a no drug policy.”

I’m lying out my ass, because I don’t think Percy has any such agreement. Her dancers all seem to be clean and clear headed, and I’ve never seen any of them act sloppy. Frankie hiccups before he yells at someone.

My roommates are on top of me a second later, and I drop my lingerie bag as I attempt to fight them off. One of their hands pulls my hair, while the other pulls open my coat, zeroing in on my purse. I brought a lot of my cash with me because I didn’t know how much I would need.

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