Page 26 of Role Play
I weave my fingers between hers and squeeze twice, feeling the delicate bones of her hand. “I'm here. It’s okay. You’re doinggreat, by the way. My apologies to the bride, but you are the most captivating woman in the room tonight.”
“Except for my ex-husband’s latest conquest. She’s gorgeous.”
I’m biased. All I see in Greg’s date is fake breasts, bleached teeth, and hair big enough to shelter a small family of birds. From earlier, I caught a whiff of her perfume—way too much of it.Is she attractive?Physically…I guess? I’m not sure. His date is a young woman, dressed up like a Barbie doll, begging to be noticed. But Celeste? She’s class, grace, and humility, far too busy with all her innovation to beg so desperately for attention. Not to mention she’s still a knockout nearing forty, making Greg the dumbest fuck on this planet.
I hate the effect he still has on her. But from what she told me, they were high school sweethearts. She loved that man for almost twenty years. Their divorce was barely six months ago. She’s more than allowed to be vulnerable at the moment.
“Her dress is nice I suppose.” I offer a shallow compliment, while dodging any further confirmation of her appearance. I don’t praise the young woman, but I don’t insult her either. I don’t know her story. Maybe she’s a victim of the circumstances. Who knows? Maybe Greg hired his date the same way Celeste hired me. Wouldn’t that be ironic?
A server walks by with a tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries. I silently sulk when Celeste waves them away. This woman eats like a bird, meaning, when I’m with her, I tend to also go hungry.
“It’s one of my upcoming pieces from my new fall line.”
“Pardon?” I ask, momentarily distracted as I fantasize about a thick peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
“The dress she’s wearing. I designed it. Greg only has access to the samples because he’s still a chairman on the board of my company. The lengths he went through to pour salt intothe wound. That lace is so delicate…” She lowers her voice. “They massacred it. They added fabric to the sides that doesn’t match the original design to accommodate her—” Celeste cups her hands in front of her breasts, acknowledging the woman’s plentiful chest. “The back is bunching because the bodice is too small. I bet she can’t breathe in there. Poor thing.”
“Now you pity her after she stole your dress?”
Celeste smirks, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. “Absolutely, I do. She has to go home with Greg. That’s punishment enough.” Celeste holds up her pointer finger and curls it, a conspiratorial gleam lighting her face. “Four and a half inches at best, and it’s crooked. How’s that for petty?”
I smother my laugh behind closed lips, feeling my chest tighten with the effort. “Very petty. Well done.” And the asshole had the nerve to insult my manhood? Projection at its finest.
Her eyes drop to the ivory-colored linen at our small table. We were supposed to be seated with another couple tonight, but they never showed. We’ve had all the privacy we could ask for.
“Who cares who he’s with and what she’s wearing? It’s not you, so he’s already lost. Why are you looking at her?”
“She’s hard not to notice,” Celeste quips back, adjusting her earring.
“You want her number? I’m happy to be your wingman. That could be a fun twist in your breakup saga. What if Greg’s mistress left him for you?”
She narrows her eyes, the corners crinkling with suppressed amusement. “On our first date you were so docile. What happened?”
I break out in a grumbly laugh, the sound rumbling from deep in my chest. “I’m sorry. I’m getting too comfortable around you.”
I normally never do repeat clients. It’s a dangerous game to play. It’s easy to cut ties after one salacious evening. Onceyou start spending too much time together, lines get blurred. I’m paid to be a woman’s fantasy, and I’ve become excellent at playing the part. But it’s an act. It’s not real. And it’s not forever.
But Celeste is an exception because we don’t have sex. She made that clear from our first date. All she’s paying me for is my company.
She swipes at my nose like she’s half-heartedly disciplining a kitten, the tip of her acrylic nail barely grazing my skin. “Anyway, sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not having lesbian thoughts about Greg’s date. What bothers me is the hypocrisy.”
“What do you mean?”
She exhales, pushing away her empty glass, making room to fold her hands together on top of the table. “Before I started working on the fall line, I told the board, Greg included, I wanted to start designing based off a different body prototype. I wanted to launch dresses that were made to honor a curvy woman’s body. Women should be proud of their breasts and hips. They shouldn’t have to hold their breath and suck in their stomachs all night like they’re ashamed they carried children. High fashion can be for everyone. They shouldn’t have had to frankenstein my work with cheap polyester for her to wear that dress tonight.”
Judging by the anguish wrinkled between her brows, Celeste didn’t get her way. “They turned down your idea?”
“Vehemently. They want runway fashion. All samples in sizes double zero to two. They want to call a size six, plus size.It’s vile.And now I’m sitting here wondering how Greg can sleep with a woman likethat, but won’t advocate for her.”
“My ex, Hannah, nearly gave herself an eating disorder trying to fit into Versace. She wanted this unbelievably expensive dress, but they never had it in stock in her size. She decided she had to shrink her body.”
“They probably never even made it in her size,” Celeste confirms, shame clouding her expression, her shouldersslumping slightly. “She fell victim to an old trade trick. They add the bigger sizes to the website, but it’s always marked out of stock. We make everything limited edition to create a sense of urgency. They get desperate enough and they change their bodies to fit the dress instead of vice versa.”
“Seriously?” I quirk a brow, the string quartet transitioning to an up-tempo waltz that fills the momentary silence between us. “That’s a thing?”
Celeste’s eyes fall to her lap, fingers mindlessly twisting the napkin. “It’s a thing.”
“It’syourcompany, Celeste. If you want to make a change, make one.”
