14

"And I need them now because..." I eye him cautiously, trying to imagine what he's thinking.

He grins. "I've given them instructions for how I want you. They'll have you ready for me."

I glance at the girls, then back at my husband. "You do remember giving me the night off, correct?"

His smile never falls. "Doesn't mean I can't enjoy the view. In you go."

I sigh and nod, turning towards the open door. I just barely make my way inside when he moves to close the door behind me. Just before he does, his smiles through the small crack between the door and the wall.

"I'll see you in a moment my dear."

He closes the door behind me, cutting me off from everyone and everything but my new maids. There's ten of them standing in front of me, each a striking beauty that makes me feel incredibly insecure. They're dressed in an array of clothing styles: some wear dresses, other in jeans and shirts and others in what looks like leftovers from a cutting room floor. I certainly have an interesting menagerie to work with.

They start immediately, rushing forward and beginning their duty of turning me into a queen for the night. They undo my dress and help me out of it. My heels are removed, my hair is brushed and makeup wiped away. While they clean me up, I take the time to look around my dressing room.

It's solid slabs of pure white marble from floor to ceiling. The ceiling itself is made of carved wood effigies pieced together like an enormous puzzle. There are marble columns reaching up to the ceiling, with black marble vines twisting up to meld with the dark wood at the top. The décor is sparse, but it's all carved stained wood and polished mirrors. There's no bed in this room, so my nights will be spent with Lucifer's bed, not here.

One of the girls reaches out for my necklace. I know she's just doing what she's been told -- undress the queen and clean her up -- but my hand flies to my throat. I shake my head. I promised Lucifer I wouldn't take it off, and I don't want to get in trouble because a naive demon wants to follow orders.

She nods and pulls her hand back, giving me an apologetic look. She rushes over to a rack of clothing hidden behind an enormous dresser and wheels it out so my outfit can be chosen. Two more demons join her and start scanning through the rack, nodding and shaking their heads at different pieces of clothing. The rest of the girls finish undressing me. I'm stripped completely naked and stand awkwardly as I wait for my newest outfit.

After several minutes, the group of girls nod together and make their way back to me, carrying heaps of clothing in their arms. Another maid drags a long fabric-covered bench over to where I'm standing. She helps my designers spread out the clothing on the bench, allowing me to take along at my choices.

It's all skimpy lingerie. Corsets, garters, stockings, thongs, the works. There's at least ten choice of each item, all in different colors and designs. Two more girls come rushing out carrying armfuls of shoes. They set them out on the floor, lining them up along the edge of the bench. Stilettos, I should have known.

Shit. So I am going to be paraded around tonight.

I sigh and cross my arms over my chest. Well, this is certainly unexpected, isn't it? Lucifer wanting his new little bride dressed up like an expensive escort even though he's not getting any ass tonight. I have the urge to dress in every piece of clothing available just to piss him off, but I reject the thought. Instead, I jump at the chance to feel sexy and scan through the scraps of cloth laid out fro me.

I reject anything yellow, green or white, along with any shoes I don't feel are a safe height to fall from. I'm left with three sets of lingerie to pick from. I scan the again and settle on a satin burgundy corset with black lace panels on the side, matching thong, sheer black thigh-highs and red patent leather heels. If I'm going to be with Lucifer, I might as well be dressed hot enough to set fire to everything.

The girls lace me into the corset and help me keep my balance as I step into my shoes. Two more start painting my face and fixing my hair. I'm sure by the end of this I'll look enticing enough to put the whores of Babylon to shame.

"He likes it down," I tell the girls working on my hair. The stop and nod at me, removing the pins and adornments they've started to shove in my scalp.

Five minutes later, I'm ready for show and tell. The girls all smile and step back, admiring their work. I wither look absolutely fabulous or horrifyingly awful. One of them rushes off, returning with a large free-standing mirror covered with gold filigree. She drags it in front of me so I can see how I look.

I'm stunned. The shoes make me five inches taller, and the stockings I've picked are just sheer enough to tease the eyes. My legs look fantastic here. The corset shows off my waist and shoves my breasts up to my chin. My hair is pulled away from my face and held in place by a single jewel-encrusted hair in. The makeup is minimal but striking: red lips, barely flushed cheeks and smoky eyes. The girls have done their job.

Bravo, girls. You've made me look like a Wall Street hooker.

Before I can take a breath, the girls begin to usher me to the door.

Oh, we're going now?