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A Stocking Full of Romance. Brigid Coady
Читать онлайн.Название A Stocking Full of Romance
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007570225
Автор произведения Brigid Coady
Жанр Зарубежный юмор
Издательство HarperCollins
“No point using fake lashes on you, you’re a novice and we don’t want them decorating your cheeks. We’ll curl them and mascara them up.”
About half an hour later, she declared herself happy and ushered me to the bedroom without allowing me to see a mirror.
“With a figure like yours you can just go with bra, knickers and hold ups. Lucky cow. Now get into these undies.”
She waved some candyfloss lingerie at me.
I thought about protesting, but to be honest she looked so fierce that I took them meekly, and when she left me alone to change, I slipped them on. They felt a tad airy compared to my comfy boy shorts. The bra hitched everything up and when I looked down my cleavage was like the Grand Canyon.
Maybe this would work…
Ailsa came back to help with the dress. It was black lace over a nude satin sheath, with a plunging neckline. Then she allowed me to look in the mirror. I looked almost naked. The satin sheath glimmered like it was my own skin. And my face! I pouted at the image.
I was moving into the fast lane.
The Christmas party started at seven thirty in a huge marquee in Embankment Gardens. Every night in the run up to Christmas some company or other would hire it to entertain their workers. This Saturday it was our turn.
With shaking hands I took off my coat and handed it to the cloakroom attendant.
“Emma?”
My boss stood in front of me, his glass of champagne drooping and spilling liquid whilst he stared at me wide eyed.
“Freddie.” I replied.
With a not quite steady finger, I pushed his glass vertical and sucked my finger to get rid of the champagne.
He gulped, made a strange coughing sound, while turning red.
I was accelerating in the fast lane.
I patted my overlarge handbag to check that part of my Secret Santa gift was still there, and strode into the party making sure to put a wiggle in my walk as Alisa had instructed me.
Shining through the lights of the bar was hair the colour of copper. His back was towards me, and he wore a short black Bonnie Prince Charlie jacket which clung to his back. A kilt hugged his behind and flowed to show a fine pair of legs.
I wanted to know what this Scotsman wore under his kilt.
I walked towards the bar. People who had usually ignored me or treated me like one of the boys were double taking and rubber necking me the whole way. But I only had eyes for one.
I leant on the bar next to him.
“Matt.” I said as I picked up a glass of champagne by his elbow.
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