pointed out in Langa’s size. Four designs in total. Each selection was more daring than the last and Langa started worrying about what was to come if they were to leave this shop unsatisfied.
Fortunately, that never happened. Angela squealed and clapped her hands when Vuvu drew back the dressing room curtain and stepped aside to allow Langa through. The first dress out of the four was clearly her winner.
“No way. Forget it.” Langa lifted her chin and prepared herself for battle.
“But why, sweetie?”
“It exposes far too much for my liking. How will anyone take me seriously, looking like this?”
“Gorgeous and sophisticated, you mean? It’s perfect.”
“It’s non-existent, is what it is, Ang. Goodness, I’ve blown my nose on tissues bigger than this.”
“Oh, quit exaggerating; it’s a floor-length gown!”
And that was exactly what Langa could not comprehend. Angela was right about the length of the dress, and yet Langa felt uncomfortably exposed. How did the designer manage to create a dress that went from her shoulders to her toes without actually covering much? Delicate straps ran like a newly spun web, interlacing all the way down her back. Her front was moulded by the dreamiest of silks, which she couldn’t fully savour due to the angst brought on by the V that plummeted between her breasts and stopped mere centimetres above her navel.
She gasped in outrage as a thigh-high slit revealed a toned leg with every step she took. The material was the colour of an African sunset in summer; somewhere between champagne-pink and molten lava, between fire and gold. She did not realise the vision she presented as her caramel skin glowed, as if awakened by the hues of the silk.
Vuvu whistled. “If you’re not taking it, can I have it? I’ve been single for way too long and that dress would be the perfect cure for all my problems.”
“No, you can’t,” Angela huffed. “Langa needs it more than you do.”
Langa was indignant. “Excuse me, but I’m going to a business function. Not a find-me-a-husband convention. Besides, my love life doesn’t need any help.”
Angela’s brows lifted at that, but it was Vuvu who spoke first. “What love life, sisi?”
* * *
Once inside, Langa leaned against her front door and sighed. Home at last. Angela and Noluvuyo had not been joking when they’d said it would take all day to prepare for her big night.
Whatever happened to the simple meetings and expos of old? she wondered. Where were the days of concise gatherings in business environments that required no more than a well-cut suit and sharp business sense?
She eyed the fruits of her day. She was amazed that it took that many beautifully wrapped parcels to put together one outfit. After the dress boutique, they had gone to a lingerie shop that had made Langa’s cheeks flush. There Vuvu had helped her pick out three sets of indecent underwear, before cheekily pointing out that her dress would definitely have to be worn sans bra.
She checked her watch: an hour and a half to go. She decided to get ready before second thoughts regarding her outfit killed her wavering resolve.
She went to run herself a bath. She opened the packet from Angela’s beauty shop and added the bath oils. Ginger and vanilla; the scent was unusual in a refreshing way. Once in the water, she lay back and closed her eyes.
No project would affect her future as much as her pitch to Lazola Rhadebe would, this was a concrete fact. Langa smoothed the oil-softened water across her skin and remembered the way his voice had roughened when she’d challenged him. Her breath caught as she tried to imagine what he might sound like during other moments of passion.
She quickly rose and drained her bath. Now was not the time for such silly thoughts. She had secured her appointment with a man notorious for protecting his privacy and obliterating anyone who served him mediocrity. The first hurdle had been crossed. Blowing his expectations out of the water was next.
After dressing, she put her make-up on the way Angela had shown her. Finally, she completed her outfit with simple gold heels, her watch and dazzling earrings. A quick spray of perfume and she headed for the door without even glancing in the mirror to see the end result.
* * *
“Ready to mingle?”
Ben Nkosi was her top advertising accounts executive; asking him to accompany her to the Media Mix had been an obvious choice. Not only would he make the perfect networking partner, he was also easy-going company. He had a quick mind and a winning personality – the perfect combination for an occasion such as this. So Langa had no problem linking a slender arm through his and entering the banquet hall at The Adonis with a smile.
Her smile almost slipped when she saw all the guests. There had to be at least three hundred people, and it felt as if everyone turned to watch them enter. Ben led her to a couple of advertising producers, both of whom she knew.
Soon she felt calm enough to look around and really take everything in. Her brown eyes scanned the large room, settling on one particular man. He was talking to a group of men over whom he practically towered.
You’re staring.
The thought registered faintly in the back of her mind, but she simply could not turn away.
Obviously I’m staring. He’s gorgeous.
His skin was dark and his shoulders were broad. But his lips were the main source of her interest. They were so full, yet firm. A contradiction that had her wondering what his kisses would be like. Gentle and generous? Or powerful and demanding? Could they contain a bit of everything?
Langa berated herself for her girlish fancy. Of all the times and places to start adolescent fantasies, this was the least convenient. She smiled. It would not do to allow herself to be distracted tonight, no matter how beautiful the man.
At that very moment, as if sensing her gaze, he looked up and right at her. Her secretive smile froze in place as her heart slammed in her chest. She found herself unable to move as his intense eyes took in her straightened hair, intricately piled up high, and then drifted down her body. Pure sexual intent heated his expression. Her silk dress shimmered as she trembled.
The arrogance of the man! To blatantly strip me like that!
She felt as if she were being caressed from afar and a tingle rose up the back of her neck. She told herself it was anger. The oaf did not care that she was watching him, nor that they were in a public place. She could feel the shock of his focus on her and goosebumps broke out along her bare arms.
“Langa, you sexy thing!”
She jumped. It was Jess Rosen, the owner of a casting agency. Jess was loud, brash and thoroughly entertaining.
Langa put her hand to her throat in an attempt to calm her uneven breathing.
“Jess. It’s so good to see you.”
“You waltzed in here, looking like something straight off the glamour pages! I want to know where you’ve been. And who’s that dish you arrived with?”
“Ben?
