Hot and bothered

"Almost ready," Betsy announced, parting Emberlynn's white hair to the side and holding it down with colorful pins.

She brought out a red lipstick and reapplied it on her lips, which, to Emberlynn, wasn't necessary as she would smear them again. She had a habit of biting her lips and licking them.

She doubted it was a habit she could grow out of, even though Damien had told her not to bite her lips. She had continued to do so, and it wasn't out of disobedience as he must have assumed; she couldn't help herself.

Doing the zip of the dress, she stood to her feet, with the help of Betsy, and looked at the black lacy gown. It clung to her body like a second skin, accentuating every movement she made.

Emberlynn winced as she gazed at her chest. It was still the same deep V-shaped neckline. Her breasts were practically on display, and she barely had a shawl that matched it.

Raising her hands as Betsy did the zipper at her side, she gazed at the sleeves, sheer and billowing; it cascaded down