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Dad gets Trisha eaten under dining table at the club.
She flipped the hairdryer on, and over the whir, continued, "You've been doing nothing but 'relieving tension' since last night, right?"
"Before dinner yesterday. In the kitchen after dinner. This morning. With me downstairs last night."
"Have you tried putting something on?"
Lauren looked at the black lace underwear, a little bit scared about the possibilities they embodied. But again, Rachel was right. Given that she'd actually had sex last night, even if it was with a woman, maybe her body's tension had been diminished enough to do away with her affliction.
Slowly, and with great caution, the blonde, reached for the black floral-lace panties, noticing that Rachel had fished her out a matching bra, as well. As she had with Adams the day before with the red hip-huggers, Lauren slipped into the panties, sliding them up her legs, and snapping them into place at her hips. She remembered the burning, the aching, the excruciating pain from Tuesday night, but none of it haunted her at that moment. In fact, sneaking a peak below the fabric, Lauren saw that the rash hadn't even returned.
Her heart was in her throat. There was hope.
She grabbed at the black lace bra, slid her arms beneath the straps, and reached around behind her back to snap it on.
Nothing. No burning. No itching. No aches. No pains. No constricted breath.
Just a blonde girl, standing in her office in her bra and panties.
Exuberant, Lauren grabbed at one of the cocktail dresses hanging on the back of her office door. Certainly she wasn't going to wear one of the revealing party dresses around work that day, was she? But Lauren was off the mind that if she were capable of wearing a slutty Halloween costume, she might just do it - anything was better than another day in the nude. And so, the blonde stepped into one of the little black dresses and began sliding it up her body.
Only to discover that the fabric burned against her skin as she did so.
"No such luck," Lauren whined as she slipped out of the dress. The mysterious pink rash had returned, but faded quickly.
Rachel pouted. She had hoped to be Lauren's cure. "You can still wear the underwear, though, right?"
"Yeah," Lauren replied, looking at her reflection in the window. "I guess."
"Well, it's kind of weird to be in my underwear, isn't it?
"As opposed to being naked?"
Lauren frowned. "No, you're right. You're right." She hesitated. "But if I'm wearing this, doesn't that just open me up to a new barrage of questions? Like, why I'm in my underwear, and not everything else?"
Rachel didn't quite follow. "So you'd rather be naked...?"
"I don't WANT to be naked," the blonde answered. "I don't WANT to sit around in slutty Eve Intimates lingerie, though either."
"So then what?"
"It's only a couple of more hours," Lauren decided, and unsnapped her bra. "Me in underwear is big news. Me naked is old news. I'll just keep my head down, get the contract done, and be done with this whole fucking thing."
She shed the bra, and then the panties, and stuffed both into the top drawer of her desk. Was she insane? She'd rather go naked than have the cover of at least her underwear? She was buoyed by hope, however. She could wear some clothes, at least. And, in a few more hours, once the Cortland contract was on Dick Bramley's desk, she'd be able to put everything back on.
In the mean time, she put her jewelry back on - the large, ostentatious silver hoop earrings, the faux pearl bracelet, the two silver and one platinum rings, the thin silver bracelet she was wearing as an anklet, and her watch. She slipped her feet back into the same pumps she'd been wearing since Tuesday. And she did her hair, once Rachel was done with the hairdryer.
Ginger had curled up into a ball under her own desk.