Chapter TenIt took Vicky the better part of an hour to do what I could in less than ten minutes. What was it about shrugging on a dress, putting on shoes and adding some make-up?
Vicky pinned up my hair, leaving a few strands hanging around my face and neck. The make-up was minimum, a soft-pink lipstick and gloss, an almost imperceptible darkening of the eyes, and the faintest of blush on my cheeks. All against my protest, of course.
When I stood to survey the result, I had to admit, I looked good.
Damn good.
The dress, Christian Dior–according to Vicky–was long-sleeved, done in a lilac color made of a soft fabric that stopped below my knees and fit me like a glove. It made me wonder how Diggy got a measuring tape around me without my knowing.
Four inches, also lilac stilettos looped
