Firefighter's Virgin

ay?”

Missy laughed. “My point is that it’s almost like you’re wearing a mask tonight – a metaphorical mask. Think of it that way and draw confidence from the belief that no one will know or recognize you tonight. So, you can do whatever you want and say whatever you want. You’re free. You don’t have to be conscious of yourself because no one is going to know who you are.”

I thought about that for a moment. “You know what? That actually helps,” I nodded.

“See?” Missy nodded. “I should have become a shrink.”

I laughed, and closed my eyes so that she could apply a layer of waterproof eyeliner. After ten more minutes, she sat back and looked carefully at my face. Then she broke out into a big, satisfied smile.

“Perfect,” she pronounced triumphantly.

I was just about to glance over to my reflection in the mirror when Missy stopped me. “You’ll have enough time for that later. First, I want you to get changed. I’d much rather you see the entire look.”

I was curious, but I decided to listen to her. I removed the oversized t-shirt I was wearing and Missy helped me slip into the dress.

“Oh God, I can’t breathe,” I panted, as Missy proceeded to zip me into the dress.

“That’s the point,” she replied. “It’s meant to be tight.”

“This tight?” I asked.

“You’ll get used to it.”

“I doubt it,” I complained.

She ignored me and produced a pair of nude, strappy, four-inch heels. “Put these on please.”

“Can’t I wear something a little less dangerous looking?” I asked.

“No,” Missy said, with finality.

I had come this far, so I decided to just go with it. I put on the heels and then wobbled to my feet. “Oh, man… I’m going to fall at some point during this night.”

“You’re going to be fine.” Missy waved away all my concerns and looked at me critically. “Now, there’s just one more thing.”

“What now?”

She shot me an impatient look. Then she walked over to me and removed my hair from its usual ponytail. With a comb and a hair curler, she went to work on my hair, and fifteen minutes later she set her tools down and smiled.

Before I could ask if she was finally done, Missy opened up her jewelry box and pulled out a thin black ribbon that appeared to have a clasp at the end.

“For my hair?” I asked.

Missy laughed. “For your neck,” she said. “Trust me, it’s incredibly sexy, and it’ll complete the look. There…you’re perfect.”

I took a deep breath and turned to the mirror. Missy was right; it really did look like I was another person. I couldn’t see the full effect of her makeover in the mirror because my neck and head were the only things visible, but it was enough.

She had ringed my eyes with dark eyeliner, giving me a little winged hook at the end of each eye so that they looked large and seductive. She had applied an earthy nude for my lips and smudged my cheeks with a subtle hint of rouge that almost perfectly matched my skin tone. My hair hung straight and silky, framing my face before ending in slight waves around my shoulders.

The stark black of the choker set an attractive contrast against the milky white canvas of my bare shoulders. I wished that I could see the dress, too, so that I could get the full effect of Missy’s makeover, and suddenly, I was excited as well as nervous.

“You’re an artist,” I told Missy.

She smiled. “Oh, I know,” she nodded.

I turned back to my reflection. I could barely recognize myself, and I knew I had to cling on to that belief tonight. Missy was right – it would give me the courage to put myself out there.

“Ready?” Missy asked.