lavender tissue paper.
What the—?
Lara gingerly picked up a piece of the costume and inspected it. No. There was absolutely no freaking way she could wear this outfit. She’d asked for a costume that concealed her identity, one that would let her blend in with the crowd and enjoy the festival, secure in her own anonymity. Instead the costume shop had sent her …a skimpy slave-girl outfit!
And not just any slave-girl costume, either. It looked suspiciously like the one that Princess Leia had worn in the Star Wars movie.
Pushing aside the remnants of tissue paper, Lara spread the bits and pieces of the costume out on the flowered bedspread.
Yep, there was no doubt about it.
There in front of her was a perfect replica of the famous metal bikini with its wrought-gold top and bottom, the delicate, curved slave bracelets for her upper arms, the chunky slave collar and chain, and the tiny suede booties, cleverly designed with straps and Velcro to conform to any foot.
The only difference was that this ensemble also contained a gold mask, reminiscent of the Venetian Renaissance. Covering everything but the mouth and chin, the mask curved elegantly along the sides of the wearer’s head and locked into place at the back.
How could the costume shop have made such a colossal mistake? There was no way she could wear this outfit, of course, and she felt a pang of regret that she would have to miss the masquerade ball.
Lara picked the mask up, turning it over in her hands and admiring it in spite of herself. Finely crafted, the mask was a work of art. How would it feel to wear such a gorgeous creation? Hesitating only briefly, she slid the mask over her face and fastened the closure. The lightweight metal felt cool against her skin.
When she peered at herself in the mirror, it was like looking at someone else. Even the familiarity of her own body, clad in figure-hugging jeans and a turquoise tank top, did little to dispel the sense that she was actually looking at an exotic stranger.
Entranced, she touched her fingers to her lips, exposed beneath the bottom edge of the gold face plate. She’d always considered her mouth too full, but now the gold mask framed her lips and emphasized their plumpness. They looked …hedonistic. Except for the glittering blue of her eyes behind the eye slits and the thick, red-gold hair that fell to her shoulders, she was unrecognizable.
Mysterious.
Lara glanced at the rest of the costume. Did she dare? She’d played a lot of dress-up games as a kid, but nothing like this. She’d never worn anything so risqué in her entire life. She’d asked for a costume that hid her identity so that she could size Graeme up without worrying that he might recognize her. But now, instead of being an anonymous observer, she’d stand out like a neon beacon. The costume was a scant step away from complete nudity. Not that she thought Graeme would recognize her even if she did decide to wear the costume.
What had Valerie said? That she’d changed in the last five years, so much so that even Graeme would have a hard time recognizing her. The mask would hide her features, and he wasn’t even scheduled to make an appearance at the costume ball that was kicking off the convention tonight.
Maybe she did dare …
Eyeing the outfit warily, she pulled a single-serving bottle of white wine out of the minifridge. Before she’d even consider putting the costume on, she needed a little false courage. She twisted the cap off the bottle and took a deep swig, and then another. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she stripped out of her clothes and donned the costume. She had a moment’s panic when her breasts refused to cooperate, and threatened to overspill the embossed cups of the bra. It was only after some jiggling and rearranging that she finally managed to subdue them.
Her silver locket lay nestled between her breasts, and she carefully removed it and placed it on her night-stand. Then she squeezed the bracelets around her upper arms and fastened the gold slave collar around her neck. A short length of chain hung from the front and lay cold and smooth against her breast.
For a long moment, Lara just stood and gazed into the mirror, hardly able to believe it was herself reflected there. She looked like a decadent offering, designed for a man’s pleasure. Her skin gleamed pale and smooth beneath the bikini, and when she turned experimentally, the crimson cascade of fabric swirled and provided alluring glimpses of her legs. The brevity of the costume shocked her. The front and back of the metal bikini bottom were held together by gold loops, exposing her entire flank.
Turning to the side, Lara examined her profile, sucking her tummy in and then letting it out. She wasn’t overweight, but there was a slight roundness to her belly that no amount of exercise or starvation could eliminate. But the reflection in the mirror wasn’t of a pudgy girl, but a lushly curved woman. She’d always thought her breasts a bit too large for her small frame, but now the bra pushed them upward to a whole new fullness. They looked …sexy. She looked sexy. Erotic. Words that Lara would never have used to describe herself, but there was no question they applied to her now.
Lara gazed at her reflection, and a naughty thrill coursed through her. Did she dare attend tonight’s costume ball like this? Just the thought of appearing in public dressed in such a salacious way brought a flush of color to her pale skin. She could have been a character straight from one of her own erotic stories. Which inspired another intriguing thought: how would the intergalactic outlaw, Kip Corrigan, react if he saw her?
Immediately, Lara’s imagination surged, and she could almost anticipate how the fictional Kip would respond. He’d bend her backward over any available surface and feast on the bounty of exposed female flesh. Then he’d take his time removing the costume, piece by piece, until all that remained was the collar and length of chain around her neck. She could envision him wrapping the slender links around his fist and using the chain to hold her, while he plundered her sensitized breasts with his mouth.
Warm tendrils of excitement unfurled in Lara’s womb, spreading outward and causing heat to build between her legs. She realized that her hands had drifted to the soft skin of her breasts just above the embossed bra, and her breathing had quickened. Beneath the lower edge of the mask, her lips were parted and damp, as if she anticipated a lover’s kiss, and behind the eye slits, her irises shimmered hotly.
Closing her eyes, she shifted her internal focus slightly, imagining it was Graeme doing those things to her. The images in her head swam and then sharpened into stark relief, and she gasped softly. Instead of the fictional Kip, it was Graeme who stroked her heated flesh, all the while telling her in explicit, exciting detail what he intended to do to her, his Scottish burr more pronounced with his arousal.
In her mind’s eye, he fastened his mouth around the aching bud of one nipple, drawing sharply on it. When she might have protested, he tugged gently on the chain, holding her in place. Meanwhile, his free hand skated along the silken skin of her abdomen until he found her core and stroked her slick center.
Lara’s eyes flew open and she stared at her reflection, more aroused than she could recall being since …well, since the last time she’d had sex with Graeme, five years earlier. In the mirror, her breasts rose and fell in an agitated fashion, and her skin had taken on a warm, flushed glow. Her blood pulsed hot and quick through her veins, and her eyes were filled with sensual need.
With a soft groan of dismay, she picked up the small bottle of wine and drained the contents in one long swallow, then swiped her mouth with fingers that trembled.
She took a deep, calming breath, willing her pulse to slow down. What would Graeme think if he could see her now?
