Michael
In truth, I think James has told her to wear them simply so she feels more comfortable, because they hide nothing; in a sheer, translucent wrap and stockings, her body is quite visible through the fabric; the curve of her breasts, the line of her waist and hip, the splash of red at her loins. Her hair is brushed long and loose; her face is elaborately made up and she wears a heavy jewelled collar at her neck.
And she looks simply amazing, utterly breath-taking.
She hovers at the door, clearly nervous again.
James meets my eyes and as he offers her wine, together we switch on our smiles.
“Relax a little, Charlotte,” he says. “You look beautiful. Come join us. Let us look at you.”
She doesn’t speak, sipping wine. I think the glass gives her something to do with her hands.
There is a full-length mirror on one of the walls. James guides her to it and I follow, wondering what is in his mind. For all our years-long friendship, I’m seeing a new side to him.