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Sounds drift up from the party downstairs, the voice of Stevie Nicks blending with excited chatter and clinking champagne glasses. The party began several minutes ago, and you still haven’t decided which costume to wear. Oh well, you’ll just have to be fashionably late, is what you tell yourself.
You’ve got two options laid out on the bed in front of you. On the left, a classic Playboy bunny costume, with a fluffy little tail and a bunny ear headband. On the right, a cute angel costume, a skimpy white ensemble with wings, and a fuzzy halo headband.
Making your decision, you dress yourself quickly, eager to join the partygoers downstairs. Your makeup is quickly applied, a simple look to compliment your costume. You examine yourself in your full-length mirror, adjusting your costume, trying to soothe the butterflies in your stomach. You look great, you reassure yourself. Adorable. Fuckable. You’re going to walk down the stairs and Simon is going to take one look at you and decide to leave the party instantly so he can take you upstairs and make passionate love to you all night. You’ve got this.
Feeling slightly more confident, you carefully shut your door before making your way down the stairs.