“Well, whatever alarm clock went off, he called home and declared that he would not be returnin’. I managed to talk him into givin’ it a little time before he files for divorce. So he’s been livin’ in Florida for the last five months and is due back next month. When he gets here we’re supposed to figure out where we’re goin’. The separation isn’t official yet, but talkin’ to him sure feels like it is.”
“So you’re taking this workshop ’cause you’re about to be divorced?” Rebecca asked.
“Oh, no. I’m takin’ it to keep from gettin’ divorced, or at least Miriam thinks it might help. She said I should come here to become a sex bomb so I can blow Dan’s mind. She figures that if the woman he left isn’t the same woman he comes home to, then maybe his interest will be piqued enough to stay. I hope she’s right. I don’t know what I’ll do if this doesn’t work.”
“It’ll work, but if it doesn’t, you’ll know what to do to catch the next guy,” Rebecca suggested supportively.
“But I don’t want another guy. Dan is my life and I want him back. Even if it means shovin’ these big ol’ feed bags into a scratchy, overpriced brassiere.”
“Feed bags? That’s gross,” Rebecca protested.
“Darlin’, these are just baby feeders,” she said, cupping her large breasts for emphasis. “I don’t see what all the hype is about.”
“Well, I’m sure Dan does. Now come on, let’s find you something hot to wear for when he gets home. Something like that,” Pia said, pointing to a poster of a femme fatale wearing an ivory and black push-up bra with lavish embroidery and a big satin ribbon.
“Honey, once you go from a thirty-eight C to a forty long, that kinda underwear just becomes silly. I’d look like a washed-up cathouse hooker wearin’ somethin’ like that.”
“They do take getting used to, ’cause just trying them on feels nothing like the tightie-whities I usually wear,” Rebecca said. “But you know what? I like it,” she admitted with a lip-biting blush. “They make me feel…I don’t know…different.”
“Welcome to the world of lingerie. You have been bitten by the power of the panty,” Pia said with a laugh. “But Flo’s got a point too. You have to feel comfortable. So Florence, how about you get the bra you like in black with matching panties. Seductive but safe. And wait, I have an idea,” Pia said as she ran back out into the store and to the nightgown display. She picked out a copper-colored silk gown edged in purple lace and a matching robe. It was elegant, age appropriate, and tastefully provocative.
“This should make you feel sexy and comfortable,” Pia suggested, handing her the set. “Oh, my God—it matches your hair perfectly.”
“Darlin’, you’re a genius. This feels amazin’,” Flo said, touching the silk to her face. “Beats the pants off the PJs I got at home. Now, this could work. Aimee, honey, what else you got like this?”
Pia left her teammate in Aimee’s capable hands to purchase Darlene’s gift and some scented sachets. As she passed the freestanding floor mirror, her passing image made her pause. She smoothed her T-shirt over her breasts and pulled the fabric close, showcasing her bustline.
Will these ever be baby feeders? she thought, staring at her own cleavage.
Not if you don’t pull on a new attitude with some new panties, Cosette’s words reminded her.
“Aimee, s’il vous plaît. Can you bring me that Aubude Tulipes demi cup? Thirty-six C,” Pia requested, catching Cosette’s assistant on her way back to the fitting room.
In her mind’s eye Pia could see the delicate scalloped edge combined with sensual white tulle in an exquisite tulip design. It was pretty, romantic, and perfect for making a baby.
With someone you love, not a sperm donor, an inner voice pointed out.
“Wait, Aimee—please, can you also bring me the Cabaret style as well,” Pia asked. “In black.” Sheer, sultry, tempting. Perfect for seducing a baby daddy.
Chapter Six
“Vanilla,” Florence requested.
“This is Baskin-Robbins. Thirty-one flavors and you can’t do better than vanilla?” Rebecca teased.
“Darlin’, it’s one thing to tinker with variety when it comes to your underpants, but there are times when plain and simple is just perfect. I’d suggest you remember that, Ms. Supersensual.”
“Where’s Pia?” Rebecca inquired as the two ventured back into the mall.
“She said she’d wait right here for us,” Florence said, looking around.
“Here she comes, and she’s got company.”
Flo’s eyes followed Rebecca’s finger and saw Pia headed toward them with what looked to be a two-year-old boy in her arms. The pair appeared to be chums, with a glowing Pia singing and the child laughing.
“Sale at the toy store?” Flo inquired when Pia reached them.
“I found this cutie-pie wandering around by himself. I went into the center of the mall to see if I could find his mommy, but nothing. I’m taking him to the security office, but I didn’t want to go without letting you two know.”
“Whoa, he really likes you. He’s grinning and laughing and he doesn’t even know you.”
“You’re a natural,” Flo remarked to her beaming teammate.
“He’s sweet,” Pia said, gently running her fingers through the toddler’s curls. Her bittersweet smile was not lost on Flo. “Now let’s go find your mommy,” Pia said, touching her forehead to the child’s. “I’ll be right back.”
Florence and Rebecca were just finishing up their ice cream cones when Pia returned. “The mom was already there in security. She was frantic. She said she turned away for a minute and he was gone. What a scary feeling it must be to lose your child.”
“Good thing you found him and not some crazy,” Flo said. “Now back to shoppin’. What else is on the list?”
“Well, we can check off number one: Underneath it all something that makes you feel beautiful,” Rebecca said, quoting the shopping list Joey had given each of them. “Number two: A scentual way to express yourself. I guess that’s perfume.”
“Or it could be scented candles or incense,” Pia suggested.
“And three: a tangible indication of who you are or want to be. That must be the icon thing she was talking about. What aisle do you find that one in?
“I’m kinda confused,” Rebecca admitted. “I get the underwear, but what’s with the other stuff? I need some different clothes to go with my new lingerie, ’cause the closet I have isn’t working.”
“Clothes aren’t as important as your mind-set. Joey’s trying to get us to change our attitude, which, like Cosette said, bubbles from underneath. Everything on that list is about individual expressions that are related to our sensual personalities,” Pia explained, becoming more impressed with her instructor’s ideas. “I get it.”
“Of course you do. Ever since we got started there hasn’t been one darn thing that has you as confounded as the rest of us. If I didn’t already like you so much, I’d have to hate you for bein’ so damn together,” Flo joshed.
Pia simply gave her a wink and a smile.
“So where do we do the fragrance thing?” Rebecca asked.
“How about there?” Pia suggested, pointing across the mall to a perfumery.
“I’ve been wearin’ the Jean Natè all my life,” Flo announced as they entered the store.
“They still make that?” Pia asked.
“Still sold at all your finest drugstores. It’s the first Christmas gift Dan ever gave me and I’ve been wearin’ it on special occasions ever since.”
“Well, then you definitely need a change. Come on, I have an idea,” Pia said, leading her over to the alphabetized fragrance wall. “Try this,” she said, spraying a test wand with Chanel No. 19 and waving it under Flo’s nose. “It’s a classic, but it screams mystery.”
“It smells good, all right, but you’re the cool mysterious one. Why in the world would I want to be an unknown to my own husband?”
“Remember? Woman he left…no
t the same one he comes home to? Shake him up some,” Rebecca prodded.
“Hmm…well, I guess I can try. You two are makin’ me into a regular Mae West.”
“I’ll be back,” Rebecca declared before making a beeline toward the celebrity display. “I’m going to check out J.Lo’s new perfume. I want something…”
“We know…sexy,” Flo and Pia responded in amused unison.
“And hot,” Rebecca added, laughing.
“Does that girl have any other words in her vocabulary besides hot and sexy?”
“Apparently not, unless you include whoa. I hope Joey knows that she’s creatin’ a monster,” Flo remarked in both concern and jest. “We need to shake a leg. We still have more shoppin’ to do and the bus will be here to take us back to the hotel in an hour. What about you? Aren’t you gonna buy anythin’ here either?” Flo asked.
“Just these candles. I already have kind of a signature scent, Stella by Stella McCarthy,” Pia declared as Rebecca rejoined them.
“Okay, enough already! You wear pretty panties and have a signature scent? Why are you takin’ this workshop? You could be teachin’ it,” Flo asked.
“I guess I could if you believe the old saying ‘Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.’ Believe me, we have plenty of time left this weekend for my insecurities to surface. So, that’s that. On to the trademark icon. What about charms?” Pia suggested.
“We passed a silver jewelry cart on our way here,” Florence said, her curiosity piqued, but letting the topic go.
The three descended on the Silver Forest kiosk and began searching for a metallic representation of themselves. Pia immediately found what she was looking for among the Chinese symbols. Her fingers caressed the cool, smooth lines of the character for “mother.” Even in unbending sterling silver, the calligraphy captured both strength and gentleness, just like the concept it represented. Did she dare buy it and own this state of being for her future self? She paused. Was she staking her claim or merely tempting fate?
“Is that the one?” Flo asked, her eyes scanning the tray from which Pia had made her selection.
“I think so.”
“What’s it mean?”
“Love,” Pia replied, feeling as though she was only half lying. Weren’t mother and love basically synonymous?
“Hmm. Really? Nice. Well, I think I’m settlin’ on this,” Flo said, holding a silver “cause” ribbon. “Bein’ with you girls has led me to the belief that I am worth raisin’ Dan’s awareness over.”
“Dan’s or anyone else’s,” Pia added in support. “I love it.”
“Whoa! Nicole Richie has a necklace just like this.” Rebecca’s excited voice rang out from the other side of the jewelry cart. “I’m so getting this,” she declared, holding a charm of the iconic lounging mud flap girl.
“Honey, you want to be hot like Paris and sexy like Angelina, smell like J.Lo, and accessorize like Nicole Richie. Seems like you’re tryin’ to be everybody but Rebecca.”
Hurt and bewilderment clouded the young woman’s face, causing Flo to immediately regret her remark. “Don’t mind me, darlin’. It’s tough to decide on one thing that sums up who you are.”
“Or want to be,” Rebecca said sullenly. “I don’t really know who Rebecca is. I never have. Not when I was in Iowa and certainly not since I’ve been in Chicago.” She held up the charm and took a long look before sighing deeply and placing it back on the tray. “But the one thing I do know is, whoever she is wants to be someone very different.”
“We all do at some point,” Pia said, putting a protective arm around the girl. “You’re young. Take it from us old chicks: other than the great body, the twenties basically suck, but everybody has to go through the confusion to get to the other side. You’ve got time to figure out who you are, and hopefully this weekend will help.”
“It already has.” Rebecca smiled, appreciating Pia’s sisterly attitude. “Do you think they could make me a necklace that says Becca?”
“Not Rebecca?” Flo asked.
“Becca sounds more grown and…big city.”
“It does sound a little less like you grew up in a cornfield or on Sunnybrook Farm,” Pia said with a teasing giggle.
“I did not grow up in a cornfield,” Becca shot back with practiced indignation. “I’m from Cedar Falls, which is right next to Waterloo. My dad is a high school science teacher and my mother is a nurse. We’re not all farmers.”
She hated the way people stereotyped her home state and the folks that lived there. Seems like her entire life had been spent peeling off the clichéd labels stuck on by other people.
“I’m sorry. That remark did sound pretty ignorant. Is Rebecca a family name? I only ask because you don’t hear of many black folks named Rebecca.”
“You’re black?” Flo remarked. “I’ve been wonderin’ what you are. I thought maybe Latina.”
“My biological mother was African American and my biological father was white. I’m adopted.” Pia and Florence listened intently as Becca conveyed her story.
Her parents, Chester and Mary Vossel, unable to have children of their own and tired of waiting in the long line behind other couples looking for healthy white children, emptied their savings account and headed south to the Window of Hope, a Christian adoption agency in Macon, Georgia. Three weeks later, six-week-old Rebecca Mary Vossel moved into the lovingly prepared nursery in her parents’ modest three-bedroom home.
As the adopted daughter of devout, conservative Christian parents, Rebecca was raised to be obedient and God-fearing. Chester and Mary were strict but devoted parents, demanding good grades and community service at the church and allowing little social life. She learned quickly that her father’s word was just as powerful as the Lord’s, and she grew up toeing the line, learning to be seen and not heard. Naturally shy, she didn’t find this difficult, and she actually preferred keeping to herself. It was the being seen part that she wished she could change.
Despite her name, she’d become the ultimate plain Jane, less by nature and more by parental design. No makeup, modest “proper” clothing, no flash, and absolutely no trash. As the years went by and the features of her African American mother emerged, it became impossible to disappear behind a veil of good behavior and the New Testament. Amid all the corn-fed-looking girls surrounding her, Rebecca’s honey-toned complexion and unruly hair made her stand out in all the wrong ways.
“That’s why you said in session this morning that you spent your life trying not to get noticed?” Pia probed gently. “And why you want to change your name?”
“Yeah, pretty much. New identity, new life,” she admitted, not sure if she could make them understand.
“My parents definitely loved me and they made sure I didn’t get in any trouble growing up. They kept me away from alcohol, drugs, and wild parties, but the problem is they kept me away from everything, including boys. By the time I got out of high school, I just wanted out. I didn’t know much about life or men and I still don’t.
“When I refused to go to a Christian university they said that they were not going to pay tuition to a heathen school. So instead of going to college I worked for a few years in Waterloo until I moved to Chicago four months ago. Right now I’m working as a receptionist and trying to save money so I can get my degree.”
“This workshop is very expensive,” Flo remarked, her maternal instincts once again on alert. “Why would you go into debt for somethin’ this frivolous?”
“I don’t think it’s frivolous. This is like a survival course for me. I’m tired of feeling as though I don’t belong anywhere.”
“I guess it’s easy to feel out of place in a new city, but darlin’, you’re beautiful. You have such an exotic look about you.”
“That’s it!” Pia said, clapping her hands to the baffled looks of her teammates. “That’s your weapon—the one you possess but don’t utilize. Turn what you think is your negative into a positive.”
“I don’t get it.
”
“Becca, it’s like Joey said today. Strengthen your strengths. You’re exotic-looking. Play up the fact that you look different to your advantage. Don’t try to cast yourself in a Hollywood cookie cutter starlet mold.”
“I swear, I can’t tell one skinny, blond, dog-totin’ girl from the next, even if they are famous,” Flo agreed.
“Oh, I don’t want to be famous. I just want to mean something to somebody. To be somebody’s star instead of always feeling like a fish out of water.”
“Well, then this should be perfect,” Pia said, pulling a necklace from the display and clasping it around Becca’s neck. “What are starfish but uniquely shaped fish. And where do you find starfish? Usually on the beach, out of the water. So whenever you feel like you don’t belong, touch this and remember you’re a one-of-a-kind star. Just presently undiscovered.”
“You really think I’m a star?”
“Becca, I deal with so-called celebrities every day, and one thing I’ve come to realize is that whatever you believe you are, others will too.”
Chapter Seven
Friday—Social Sensuality
After a morning dedicated to relaxing and sensual spa and aromatherapy treatments, followed by a sumptuous lunch of tasty bite-size cuisine, everyone reconvened in the Pacific Ballroom for day two of unearthing their inner bombshells.
“Good afternoon, lovelies! You’re all glowing!” Joey remarked once her pupils were assembled. “And there’s a new vibrancy in the air. Can you feel it? You all must be wearing your new lacy attitudes.”
Happy laughter buzzed around the room. The sparkling energy was evident and contagious. It had even managed to warm Pia up to the idea of being there. Yesterday’s lessons had obviously sunk in and were being fully applied this morning. Armed with a new confidence brought on by self-discovery and the emergence of self-acceptance, the weapons-in-waiting sat eager to absorb today’s knowledge.
Weapons of Mass Seduction Page 5
