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What do I wear beneath this thing?

My phone buzzes with a notification and I check it to see I have a text from him.

August:I see my gift arrived.

Me:Everything is beautiful, thank you! But what do I wear underneath it?

August:Wear only what’s in the box, Sin.

My skin warms. I can hear him say those words and they seem to vibrate just beneath my skin.

Me:But there isn’t a bra or panties. And the dress is so sheer!

August:Trust me. I spoke to a sales associate. She has exquisite taste and told me you’ll look stunning.

Trust him. I can’t trust him. He’s horrible most of the time. I think he enjoys making me squirm. Humiliating me. And there’s a small part of me that enjoys it too.

Me:If you say so.

“I’m supposed to wear this without any underwear.” I drop the sequined dress onto my bed. “I’ll look like a slut.”

“Oh, you will not.” Elise grabs the dress and holds it up practically to her face. “It’s not that sheer. It’ll probably give the illusion that you’re naked underneath it.”

“And I’m supposed to wear the black tights beneath it? That’ll look stupid.” He’s setting me up, I swear.

“It won’t. You’re going to look like a goddess. He’ll swallow his tongue the moment he sees you.”

“He better not. I happen to like his tongue a lot,” I retort, making Elise laugh.

I start laughing too. This is the most surreal experience of my life and I should just go with it, but it’s hard. Especiallywhen I don’t necessarily trust the man who’s going to take me on a date tonight.

There’s another knock on the door and I answer it to find our RA standing there with yet another box. “For you.”

I tear into it the moment she’s gone, a gasp leaving me when I pull out a heavy faux fur coat in the most beautiful golden-brown color. “It’s so soft.”

“You’re going to look like a mafia wife with that coat,” Elise says with a smile as I shrug it on and admire myself in the mirror. “I love it.”

Another text from August comes through as I’m shrugging out of the coat.

August:It’s going to be cold tonight. Thought I would send something to keep you warm.

Me:Thank you. It’s beautiful.

He doesn’t respond but it’s fine. My heart is giddy. If he’s trying to impress me?

It’s working.

A hired car and driver arrive promptly at six to pick me up. Once I’m in the car—I folded myself in carefully, terrified I’d rip the dress or my tights—I’m a bundle of nerves, curious as to where we’re going. Even more curious as to August’s whereabouts. He’s definitely not in this car and the driver isn’t talking. I decide to send August a text.

Me:Where are you?

He responds quickly.

August:Waiting for you.

Me:That’s nice, but where?

August:You’ll find out soon.