A woman who looked to be about the age of Samantha’s grandmother turned in her overstuffed seat. She set the pair of pants she was stitching to the arm of the chair and patted her salt-and-pepper bun.
“This,” Renee began, “is my best friend, Samantha.” It was said in a way that said “Finally!” And she pushed Samantha toward the woman like a sacrifice to her maker.
“Ooooh…” the woman said, with a thick Italian accent. “She more beautiful than you say.” She walked toward Samantha and circled her a couple of times before looking up. She then took one of Samantha’s thick blond braids in her palm, and flipped it over. “After we sew, we cut.”
“No, no,” Samantha protested, shaking her head. “No cut.”
Renee only laughed, pushing her forward again. “She means trim, and yes! I bet you haven’t had one in two years.”
Before she could even argue, Betty fetched a garment bag from the back of the door and thrust it into Samantha’s arms. “Put on,” she ordered.
Not wanting to argue with the tiny woman, she nodded, then turned to Renee with her eyes open wide open and did what she was told.
Just as Samantha feared, the dress was too tight. Much too tight. Getting into the thing was like trying to fit a hamburger patty into a hot dog bun. Bits of flesh were sticking out all over the place, but mostly in the top region. Betty circled her in the middle of the room, while Samantha desperately regretted all those pancakes she’d eaten on their trip.
“Okay!” Betty exclaimed. She took hold of each side panel and yanked them together. “One… Two…”
Samantha sucked in her stomach and blew out a breath.
“Three!”
The panels slammed shut behind her, and Renee, who was standing on a chair above her, tugged at the zipper. She made a few grunting noises as she tugged and stretched, while Betty shoved and stuffed Samantha with jabbing fingers. Then all of a sudden, as if the Gods had come out to show their mercy, the zipper flew up. Samantha pulled in a gasping breath, stumbling forward and steadying herself with a nearby chair, before she glanced up at Renee.
A full-length mirror was right in front of her, and her shoulders relaxed when she saw her reflection. It wasn’t half bad. Which honesty surprised the hell out of her. The fabric was a blush color, not pink or peach, but a color somewhere in between. It flattered her skin tone perfectly. There was a silky skirt that draped to the floor, somehow making her look a little taller, but the only thing she didn’t like was the A-framed bodice that pushed her breasts nearly up to her chin. And even that—aside from being completely public inappropriate, made her look gorgeous.
Betty circled a couple of times around the chair, scratching her chin and tugging at bits of the fabric as she went. “Hmmm…” she mumbled, before sticking a few pins in the hem. She came to stand right in front of Samantha. Her tongue tsked off the roof of her mouth as though deciding what to do. Then, as if not having any impulse control whatsoever, she lifted Samantha’s breasts in her hands and started bouncing them.
The door to Renee’s hotel room burst open at that moment, and Tristan and Phin walked in, carrying her bags. They both stopped dead in their tracks.
“And vhat do we going to do with these?” Betty asked thickly, still bouncing Samantha’s breasts up and down.
Renee, who was still standing on the chair, must have been so shocked by what was happening she didn’t move it all.
Betty looked at Renee, still standing up on the chair, and Renee looked at Phin who was standing by the door with Tristan.
But Tristan looked right at Samantha. Her face flushed with embarrassment and she instantly started to giggle. Renee started giggling too, which caused Betty to throw her hands in the air in frustration.
“Vhat?” she questioned sharply.
The whole room erupted in fits of laughter, doubling over. Except Betty, who stuck hands on her hips and stormed into the restroom.
Blood rushed to Samantha’s face and neck as they came to, because there was no mistaking the look on Tristan’s face. It was inappropriate, sexy as hell, and she couldn’t breathe.
He covered his mouth with his hand, wiping over his chin, then down his throat, but his eyes never left hers. “I could really go for a burger and fries about now,” he said to Phin. “How about you?”
Phin cleared his throat a moment later and looked to the floor. “Sounds good to me, brother.” They placed Samantha’s bags by the front door, her keycard on the entryway table, and turned toward the exit. Renee stepped down from her chair, waiting for the guys to close the door behind them, then stood right in front of Samantha and looked down at her breasts. “She’s right you know. Vhat in fuck are we going to do with these?”