Using Zeph’s expense card, I’d commissioned my dress from a local seamstress to be the exact perfect level of provocative. The skirt was big and accurate, but the top was scandalous. Its built-in corset cinched my waist, but it cut off just around my bust, and it split in two down the front, revealing the inner swells of my breasts. I’d powdered them to fine alabaster and applied a single black beauty mark at the top of lefty. Then I’d bunched up my hair into a tangle of up-done weaves and made myself up with a bit of powder and rouge.
Tasteful, I’d decided, but just provocative enough.
“You need to promise me,” Buffy said as she gingerly sipped her wine, “that I’ll be off the clock by ten. I’ve been desperate for some lovin’, and tonight’s the best night.“
“Cross my heart. Once Theo and I are in Amelia’s office, you just need to run interference for one hour.”
Buffy’s job was simple but critical. Arvo was gonna get called away, just long enough for me to sneak off with Theo. When Arvo came back, it was Buffy’s job to distract him. She would make excuses for me, something a little too personal and female—something he’d accept without question. Maybe she’d get a little frisky with him.
“Remember,” I said, “Arvo’s not a complicated dude. If you want to distract him, grab his junk. Nothing subtler will work.”
Suddenly, the hallway exploded with pulsing electronica. I nearly peed myself, and Buffy cracked up.
“That’s our signal,” she confirmed.
I stood and straightened my outfit. Buffy hurriedly dribbled fake blood from the corners of her mouth.
With that, we were on our way.
I was a total naïf, thinking that my peekaboo courtesan dress would be risqué enough for the event. All Hallows Eve was a whole other level of depravity.
There were girls in only pasties and booty shorts.
Right outside Buffy’s room were three guys, naked except for jockstraps and a full coat of metallic gold body paint.
The average lady was clad, at most, in a scant negligee that barely covered her key areas.
Most guys were bare-chested, and assless chaps were far more ubiquitous than I’d anticipated.
“What am I getting into?” I gasped as Buffy and I entered the Grand Hall, dim and pulsing with strobes.
“If you weren’t so distracted with your little mission, this would be the wildest night of your life.”
“Not quite.”
Buffy arched her eyebrow.
“You do your job tonight, and I’ll tell you all the wild details.”
“You’re on.”
Suddenly, a big hand grabbed my elbow and turned me around.
It was Arvo. A lot of him.
He was King Poseidon, which made a certain sense, given his aquatic hobbies. He was nude except for a mass of fishing net wrapped around his waist and a seafoam-and-shell crown over his blond head. His chest, arms, and legs glistened with oil.
“You’re overdressed, Quinn.”
“I know. I could have saved some money and just come naked. Would have fit in.”
“I’d have liked that. You look pretty hot as it is.”
He handed me the punch they were serving. I was reticent to drink, remembering how strong the punch was last year. Well, my tolerance was higher now, so I took a quick, appraising gulp.
It burned, but I was still standing.
“This is Buffy,” I said.