Nata

In my bedroom, I stand in front of the glass closet doors in a floor-length red dress, that hugs my curves and has pleats and gatherings on the bust that make my smaller chest appear ... more. I search for a price tag in the box but find neither it nor a receipt. Although the dress resembles Kate's in color and the silkiness of the material, the quality is different. Better doesn't quite do this dress justice. If I had to guess, I'd think someone custom-made it for me, it fits so well. I turn my back to the mirror. The crisscross straps need to be straightened out, but they still accentuate my spine, and the peek-a-boo of my shoulder blades transforms my back into an art piece.

I love this dress.

There's a knock on the door. "Okay for me to come in?"

"What if I'm naked?"

"I have seen you naked," says Phillip. "Multiple times."

True, but somehow, they don't quite count. "This is different."

"How exactly is it different?"

Because my body is on fire just thinking of standing naked in front of him again. His fingers tracing the dips and curves on ... I shake my head. "I'm putting the clothes on instead of taking it off."

"I think I can manage."

I place my palms on my flaming cheeks. "What if I can't?"

"I'll help you." Phillip's voice is lower and conjures images of both of us naked on the bed, not me trying on the next dress.

I choke on the words that were supposed to be my reply. How long has it been since he actually seen me naked? My chest tightens as I try to count the days.

"So, can I come in?" Phillip repeats his original question.

"Yes." I turn my head in time to witness Phillip's smile slide off his face as his eyes rake my body.

"I love you in this dress." Phillip sets two handfuls of bags on the floor by the door and takes a step forward, only to grab the doorframe and take the same step back. The muscles on his jaw tick.

My imagination wants him to stride to me and his hands to settle on my hips and press me into him.

I want him to want me as much as I want him. I don't care about the ovulation, or whatever this dress is for. I want human physical contact. My pulse thunders in my temples. Actually, I want physical contact with Phillip. I could cut the distance between us, kiss him, drag him to my bed, and make my fantasy a reality, but I stand still. Some borders should not be crossed. I could move, I want to move, but what if that changes things between us?

"Nata." He crosses his arms over his chest. "I think we found the winner."

"I thought you wanted me to try them all?"

"Please, don't." He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes glued to my naked back. "Do you still have the red lipstick you wore to the reunion?"

"I might. Kate gifted me a set." I take several steps toward the door.

Phillip doesn't move. His gaze is on my mouth and as if it's a laser beam, I feel my lips heat.

I point at one of the straps that's bunched around the other. "Could you straighten them?"

My back to him I busy myself adjusting the ruffles on the bust. With the barest of touches Phillip's fingers run along one of the straps, separating the tangle. Fanning the fire in my stomach, my skin warms wherever his fingertips brush my skin. I'm entirely too hot for someone who's wearing light silk and not much else.

"I thought that red lipstick looked amazing on you," Phillip says in a raspy voice. He's close enough to my back that I feel his breath on the nape of my neck. "And this dress is perfect for the opera."

"Opera?" I twist to fully face him.

"We are going to 'Il Trovatore' tonight. That's what the dress is for." He checks out the ruffles I just straightened that cover my chest.

"Tonight?" I inhale sharply. My mind tries to comprehend his words as lust tries to coat them in a fog. "What time?"

"Seven." He leans on the door frame.

I frantically rake my gaze over the room for my phone. "What time is it?"

"Five. We have plenty of time."

The panic in my brain overpowers the desire to cut the distance between us and forget about the consequences. I take one, two, three steps back, almost falling over the puddle of red silk under me. "I need to take a shower, dry my hair, put makeup on, I don't have shoes. And I need makeup—"

"You already said makeup," Phillip moves closer, closing the distance I created. He bites the corner of his lip. I want to be the one biting the corner of his lip.

"Right." I stare at Phillip. A thought shines through the fog of my overactive libido. The reason Phillip wasn't to go to the opera was to talk to Mallard. To find out more about his mom and his birth father. I move off the silky trim and take another step back and fist the fabric of the dress. "Is professor Mallard going to be there?"

Phillip stills. "Yes. It's confirmed. He's going to be in the dress circle. We should be able to accidentally bump into him either before the show or during the intermission."

"Good." I take a deep breath. This is about his father. I'm going with him to help. I school my face into a friendly tutor mask. "Do you have the questions ready?"

"I do."

"Excellent. Now go get dressed."

He walks through the door backward. "Back in 45 minutes?"

"Go." I shoo him away. "45 minutes. Opera."

"It's a date." Phillip throws a glance at me over his shoulder.

I catch myself smiling as the door closes behind him.

Taking the dress off is somehow much harder than putting it on was. I speed through the shower and curse the length of my hair as it takes longer to dry and style it than I have time for. I unearth Kate's red lipstick and perform the witchery of makeup. I'm not that bad at it. I take out nude underwear I would usually wear under a dress. Not for this dress. I shove the beige pair back into the drawer and dig out tiny red thong, another one of Kate's presents. I should seriously consider tasking her with getting all my clothes.

Or Phillip. He seems to be good and finding clothes to put on me. Electricity runs across my spine. And take off me? I slide the tiny piece of fabric on. Talking about Mallard and ushering Phillip out of my room might've cooled my temperature to simmer, but even a thought of Phillip taking the thong off is enough for it to return to full boil. The way he looked at me was not my imagination.

I'm zipping up my dress when Phillip knocks on the door. "Ready?"

"Almost. Come on in," I say.

He strides in. In a tuxedo and a thin black tie. My turn to catch my breath.

The corner of his mouth slides up. "I clean up well, huh?"

"I still think I like the dirty version of you more, but if I can have both, that's the preferred option."

"I concur." He looks at the pile of bags he left on the floor by the door earlier. "Have you picked the shoes?"

"I didn't get there yet."

He pulls boxes out and takes shoes after shoes out. Shiny ballet flats. Red heels. Nude stilettoes. A studded sparkly pair that has long cords to go around a calf. Phillip holds a kitten-heel black swede pumps. "Speed trying?"

"Why do I still feel like Cinderella in reverse?" I inspect the row of fancy footwear. "I'm trying many shoes instead of many girls trying one shoe?"

Phillip bends one knee and in an I'm-going-to-propose pose extends the stilettos my way. "I think this is a better version, don't you agree?"

"I do." I slide my feet into the strappy beige contraption almost disappear on my feet but add height. Classy. The ballet flats don't add enough height and the dress drags. The black pumps are more office than opera. I try the studded sparkly ones and try to wrap the cords around my leg.

"Let me help." Phillip's fingers do a swift job of wrapping me in the shiny straps. I wish it took him longer, because watching him quickens my breath. He stands and does another up-an-down inspection of me. "I think we have the winner."

I twirl. "You like?"

"Love." Phillip's gaze caresses everywhere it lands.

Heat creeps across my collarbone. I glance at my bed and then at the door. Opera. We are going out tonight. "Ready to go?"

"One more thing." He picks up the Tiffany's bag and takes the box out. "Turn."

I face away from him and stare at our reflection in the mirror. An identical mirror to the one in his bedroom.

"Close your eyes."

I look up at him. "But I like watching us."

"I like watching us too." Phillip pulls the curtain of my hair away from one shoulder and trails his lips along the sensitive skin there. He knows exactly what I'm talking about. "But first I need to take you on a date," he whispers into my ear.

"A date," I whisper back. His fingers touch my earlobe, and he puts in a hook of an earring through. He repeats it with my other ear.

"Open."

I do. Droplets of transparent stones on a long string sparkle from between my hair, almost touching my shoulders, like a waterfall of what I assume is either diamonds or something very expensive.

"Gorgeous," I say on a sigh.

"You are." Phillip interlaces our fingers. "Let's go enjoy the music and find out who my biological father is."

Author's Note

3/7/2024

And here is part of of  what was supposed to be one chapter.  I'm still not 100% happy with it, but this is just my first draft and it gets us to the next chapter: the opera date!!

I've been really obsessing about getting stuff perfect and it's not helping me get ahead, so I'm letting it go for now and posting some imperfect chapters to get ahead and get Nata and Phillip to the end of their story.

Thank you all for reading and for your support!

Love,

GR