Seductive Shadows by Marni Mann Page A

slathered me in oil and lotion.
    My hands were covered in remnants of paint. It didn’t matter how many times I washed, how hard I scrubbed, or how much soap I used; the colors from my latest piece always seeped into my skin. The different tints acted as accessories to my outfits, but Sandy was able to remove it all while she exfoliated my flesh with sugary goo until my skin glowed. My nails and toes were painted a deep crimson; the ends of my hair curled and sprayed. Perfume had been misted over my chest and core. When it was time to get dressed, she handed me black lace boy shorts and a long, bulky, striped button-down shirt. A black tie and thigh-high fishnet stockings finished the look. She didn’t leave me any heels, jewelry, or even a bra…just a mask that matched my tie.
    Passing by the bathroom mirror, I took a quick glance to review the final look. I stopped, and stared. I gasped. I knew I was attractive; men had always shown me interest, sometimes too much, but this…
    Sandy had made me perfect.
    She airbrushed my face until all my imperfections were gone. Against the subdued color of my makeup, the green of my eyes popped. Sandy had made sure they were the focal point, extending my lashes and curling them around the mask. I almost didn’t recognize the pale, glossy lips that I usually painted in dark hues or the gleaming white teeth that before tonight had been slightly stained by coffee. I touched my cheek, my short, square, red nails stroking skin that looked and felt exotic. Layered, messy, loose curls framed my face and shone from the light. I pushed the pads of my fingers into my forehead, then my cheeks, and I blinked. The view didn’t change. This was how I looked all cleaned up. And I would have plenty more nights to gawk.
    I pulled myself away from the mirror and moved into the bedroom to explore the nightstand and chest before my client arrived. I wanted to be familiar with the room and the toys that were available…and to locate something strong to drink. There had to be a fully stocked bar somewhere in here that could offer me a few sips of calm, but I didn’t know where it was. As I made my way toward the bed, I heard a noise behind me. I turned my neck just slightly, assuming Sandy had forgotten something, and pressed my chin against my shoulder. My breath caught in my throat and my palms began to sweat. It wasn’t her. This must have been what Victoria had meant by unconventional.
    Without a warning from Sal, a man stood in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe. His feet were crossed, his hands in his pockets. He wore a black suit and a white shirt, and his tie matched mine. His was loosened around the collar, though mine wasn’t. His shoes clicked when he shifted his feet.
    I turned and faced him, resting against the pole of the bed and squeezing it between my fingers. My back straightened; I parted my lips like my legs and allowed my tongue to show slightly between my teeth. “Hello, there,” I said, my face tilted a little to the side, curls bouncing from the movement. My voice didn’t show a hint of the nervousness I felt—the butterflies in my gut, the turmoil in my womb, my rapidly beating heart. Nothing betrayed me.
    He closed the door, sending me his smell. Whiskey, maybe, and crisp leaves, mixed with cologne that was a few hours old.
    “Good evening,” he said. He slowly moved closer.
    I took in all of him. Though he was dressed as a gentleman, there was something rugged about him; a man who didn’t use only his brain when he went to work, but his hands, too. His eyes moved from mine and landed on my body, causing everything below my neck to redden. Only a few seconds passed before I felt him. His thumb grazed my bottom lip, his skin cold from the glass he held in his palm. I licked my lips, tasting the sweetness he had left behind. The spark from that simple touch opened my pores.
    I needed him to want me.
    He pressed the rim of the glass against my lips, pouring a