My hand shook as I applied a coat of blood red lipstick. I
stopped, took a deep breath.
It's alright, Jess , I told myself. Even though that
was ridiculous. Things were most certainly not alright.
But I managed to get the lipstick on without smearing it all
over my face, which was something. I met my own gaze in the mirror of the
beautiful antique vanity, and I hardly recognized myself. I looked the same as
I had yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. Aside from
the lipstick, of course. They'd requested that.
But my blonde hair, my blue eyes, the sprinkling of light
freckles across my cheeks. They were just the same as always, but somehow, I
looked different.
I studied my reflection, trying to commit it all to memory.
Because after tonight, I really would be different. And there was no
going back.
I had to admit that I was scared. Terrified. But this would
be worth it in the end. Right ?
There was a knock on the heavy wooden door, and then Eve
popped her head in.
"It's time." She said, her pale eyes sparkling.
She was clearly excited.
I nodded, and rose from the vanity. The towel that I'd had
draped around me fell to the ground, and I stood naked in the beautiful,
unfamiliar room. I tried to hide the shiver that went up my spine. I didn't
want Eve to know just how scared I was.
She picked up the thick blood red robe that was laid out on
the bed and carried it to me, then draped it over my shoulders. The robe was
even heavier than it looked.
Eve fastened the tie around my neck and pulled the large
hood up. I could barely see from under the heavy material, but when I moved to
adjust it, she swatted my hand away.
"There." she purred, taking a step back to examine
me. Her lips curled into a wolfish smile. "Aren't you just the perfect
picture of a virgin sacrifice? They're going to eat you right up."
*****
––––––––
M y week had started out the same as always, with no
indications that by the end of it, I’d be offering up my virginity in a ritual gangbang.
I woke up on Monday morning, exercised before breakfast,
attempted to make myself look like I belonged at a high fashion magazine
(which, as always, wasn’t exactly successful), and headed to work. Once there,
I sat in my cubicle, wrote copy for the latest eyeshadows and the newest high
heels, and drank too much coffee.
When Nicholas James strolled into the office at ten thirty,
with his assistant Eve trailing behind him, I stopped what I was doing to watch
him.
Nicholas was kind of my idol. He'd been named editor in
chief of Haute magazine three years ago, when he was only twenty five years
old. He managed to resuscitate the failing publication, turning it into the
hottest fashion magazine in the country, possibly even the world, within six
short months. And the magazine continued to become more important and
influential with each issue.
No one had ever been able to figure out exactly how he’d
done it, but everyone agrees that it's one of the most major success stories in
magazine history.
And as if being a publishing legend wasn’t enough, Nicholas
was also startlingly attractive. He was just as handsome as any of the world
class male models that had graced the pages of Haute. Six feet tall with the
lean, muscular body of a statue carved by an old master. Dark hair that was
always perfectly styled, and vivid emerald green eyes.
Every woman in the office was in love with Nicholas James,
and I was certainly no exception. He was brilliant, gorgeous and wildly
successful. How could I not be head over heels for him?
But I knew that my crush was hopeless, and I'd never stand a
chance with a guy like him. I was just an intern, after all. And far from the
most attractive or stylish intern at the magazine, at that. I was sure he'd
never noticed me, and probably never would.
I shook my head, breaking myself out of my Nicholas James
fixation, and went back to writing about handbags.
*****
––––––––
E ve led
T. Davis Bunn
Martha Wells
Hillary Bell Locke
Suzanne Stokes
Astrid Jane Ray
Penthouse International
Dan Brown
Melanie Tem
C. J. Box
Peter Popham