I asked Sapphire to help me with my hair as Diamond wasn’t around. I told her not to fuss with it too much. It needed to stay up for a little while, but didn’t need to be rock-solid. She agreed and came into the dressing room with me.
She stood behind me and started on my hair. “I’m a little confused,” Sapphire said.
“About what?” I asked.
“Why are you getting an extra dance?” She whined.
“Seriously?” I laughed. “You’re whining because I get to do extra work?”
She whined again, “Based on the amount that we’re making for the three scheduled dances,
you’ll be making a nice bit of bank for the extra dance.”
“Annnd?” I asked. “You’re gonna get laid by what looks to be a choice of some pretty hot stuff!”
“Yeah,” she mumbled, “But that was gonna happen anyway!”
I sighed, “Okay, here’s what I’ll do. I’ll split the money from this dance three ways. How’s that?”
She made a disgusted noise. “No, that’s not right, you’re doing that dance!” She patted my shoulder, “You’re done.” I looked in the mirror, my hair didn’t look half-bad.
First meeting her eyes, I then hung my head, “Whaddya want me to do?”
She took a deep breath, “Nothin’, I’m just bitchin’…”
I stood up, turned around and hugged her. “Okay, if you change your mind, I’ll get the company to split it.”
She teared up and whispered, “Laci, you’re the best.”
I released her and walked back into the closet. I pulled a very sheer, black lace bra out of my bag and put it on. I pulled on a matching black silk, lace thong and a deep purple garter belt. I added black silk, thigh-high stockings and hooked them to the garter belt. I walked to the full-length mirror and checked my reflection. I grinned, I knew that I looked hot! I slipped into a white silk, long-sleeved blouse, buttoning only the two bottom buttons, exposing the bra, my barely covered boobs and my firm abs. I added a mid-calf pencil skirt with a slit that revealed my left leg all the way up to the garter belt. I tucked in the blouse, thereby completing my ensemble.
I walked out of the closet and Sapphire looked up at me and whistled. “Holy shit, Ruby! You’re gonna knock her socks off!”
I laughed, “That’s what I was going for, thanks Sapphire.”
++++++++++
I walked out of the bedroom and headed down the hall to Harper’s room. The distance between the two rooms reminded me of the mammoth size of this home. It really is ridiculous. I also had time to realize that I wasn’t sure that I had seen the bride-to-be. I had caught a couple of glimpses of the bridal princess tiara, and ‘Bride!’ sash, but I couldn’t remember seeing her face.
I arrived at her door and took a moment to relax and get in character. I took a breath and knocked.
I heard a faint, “Yes?”
“Ms. Carlsson, it’s Ms. Yacht, you wanted to see me?” I said softly.
“Yes, Ms. Yacht, please come in.” I heard from behind the door.
I walked in and Harper Carlsson was sitting behind a very sleek, modern desk, with no drawers, sides or back. It had a glass top with black steel legs. Harper was sitting very demurely with her knees together. I perceived that her skirt was very short because I barely could see it. Then she pulled a Sharon Stone by crossing her legs so the skirt disappeared completely, but what was under it was fully on display. I was speechless. Then, I finally dragged my eyes up to look at her face and realized that she was a real-life Elsa, from Frozen. White blonde hair, pale, perfect skin and huge blue eyes. My heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to beat out of my chest, or stop. So it settled on doing both. My heartbeat was all over the place.
As I stood there slack-jawed, I became aware of what she was (wasn’t?) wearing. She had the aforementioned black miniskirt and a bright red suit jacket and it appeared that was all she was wearing. I had observed the lack of panties when she had so deliberately crossed her legs. The cleavage peeking out of the jacket was spectacular and my view was unrestricted by any underwear.
She slowly stood, the miniskirt dropping back down her thighs just as slowly, giving me a long look at her cleanly waxed pussy. She cleared her throat, causing me to rip my eyes back up to her face. I could feel the embarrassment reddening my skin from my chest to the top of my head. I couldn’t restrain myself as my eyes immediately drifted back to her chest.
“Ms. Yacht,” she said sternly, “my eyes are up here.”
I was stunned, I was never this out of control in a stripping situation. She had me completely off-balance. “I, I, I…” I stammered, “I’m s-s-s-sorry M-M-M-Misss C-C-C-Carlssssonnn, I-I-I-I’m s-s-s-sooo emb-b-b-barrassed. I-I-I-I w-w-w-won’t d-d-d-do it a-a-a-again.” All the while staring at the luscious, pink, nipple peeking out of the red jacket, I had failed miserably to maintain eye contact.
She glanced down and snorted, “Well, I see that declaration wasn’t very sincere and didn’t last long. You’re staring at my nipple.” She unbuttoned the jacket and revealed her magnificent breasts. A perfect C-cup pair stood proudly on her chest. My jaw dropped.
“Is that better?” She asked sarcastically. She then dropped the jacket on the chair behind her, stepping out from behind the desk.
When she moved in front of me and I looked into her eyes, I noted the uncertainty there. She was playing a role and I thought she may have ventured into uncomfortable territory. Instantly, I was back on familiar ground and reasserted myself. Though, my heart rate was still all over the place. She was/is the singularly most beautiful woman I’d ever met.
I reached out and pinched her very hard nipple and her knees buckled. I caught her under her arms as she slid towards the floor.
I murmured, “So much better, Ms. Carlsson.”
She gasped, but did not say a word. I guided her back to her chair, helping her sit back down. I glanced down and the sorry excuse for a miniskirt was barely covering her pussy. It was at that moment that I recalled that she was the bride-to-be and my steadfast rule. I stepped back a little and slid back into the Ms. Yacht character.
I hung my head demurely and said, “I am so sorry Ms. Carlsson; that was sooo inappropriate. It won’t happen again.”
Harper looked momentarily stunned and confused and then seemingly remembered where we were and what we were doing. She firmly said, “See that it doesn’t!”
She slipped her arms back into the jacket, but didn’t button it, leaving her glorious breasts on display, both to my delight and dismay. She returned to sitting,
Waving me around the front, she sat forward, rested her elbows and folded her hands. “Ms. Yacht, I have repeatedly asked you to wear heels. You know I think it looks more professional and yet you refuse. Why should I not discipline you for your defiance?”
This was a surprising turn of events, but her expression was one of curiosity, so I indulged her. “Ms. Carlsson, as I have told you before, I am uncomfortable while wearing heels and am sometimes very clumsy and I am terrified that I am going to break an ankle or a leg.”
She broke character and grinned, “Ahhh, I get it.” Then she resumed her Ms. Carlsson role.