“Get in there,” she says in a cute but commanding tone.
“Excuse me?”
“Try these on so you can see just how hot and delusional you are,” she snaps with a sassy head tilt. Then she throws the basket in the dressing room and slides the curtain closed around me.
“I’m not delusional,” I reply through the curtain as I pick up the first corset from the pile. “I’m realistic. I can pretend I’m blind to those things, but society will never be.”
“Fuck society,” she barks. I smile at the sound. Mia is curvy and gorgeous. She has the confidence in her own skin I never had. While she was flaunting her perfect body to men on the internet for money, I was still covering up and hiding mine because—and I quote—boys would get the wrong idea.
I learned to be ashamed of my body before she was out of diapers. I never had the chance to appreciate it or know how to flaunt it proudly. I have never once seen myself as sexy, because it was drilled into my head at an early age that sexy bodies are sinful.
“Do you know why I started camming?” she asks, taking me by surprise.
Because of the money sounds like an offensive answer, so I don’t respond. Although I’m sure that was a big part of it.
“No, why?”
“Because I love my body. I saw the way girls on my gymnastic team would whisper about me. I heard so many fucking derogatory remarks and tips about dieting and working out. It didn't matter how I felt about my own body. People honestly thought I should be unhappy with myself. They thought they were helping.
“But men liked me. Men appreciated my body. And I don’t care if that makes me sound like a slut or an attention whore. I was, and am, proud of my curves, and I was tired of hearing how I should change them. So, stop talking about yourself like that. You are beautiful, and any man who gets to touch you is very fucking lucky. And if he doesn’t know it, drop him like a bad habit.”
As I stand in front of the mirror in nothing but my underwear, I try to let her words penetrate the negative voices in my head that want to criticize every stupid little thing. I picture that drawing Beau did of me on his tablet.
You don’t see what I see.
It’s obvious I don’t see what he sees because the woman in that drawing was radiant. I do my best to see the reflection in the mirror through his eyes. Then I look down at the pile of lingerie and force myself to take a deep breath. I’m completely expecting to hate myself in all of these, but I do my best to go into it with an open mind.
The corset on the top of the pile is sleek and black. It’s simple, but I’m still afraid of how it’s going to look as it cinches my waist and hugs my hips.
Like she said—there’s only one way to find out. So I slide it around my torso, hooking the clasps in the front before spinning it around. The heart-shape edge pushes my bust up, creating cleavage like I’ve never had before.
Before I can even let my eyes pinpoint things like the soft pillow of skin under my arm, I take a step back and look at the woman in the mirror.
I almost don’t recognize her. She’s fierce, sexy, fearless. She’s me. This is what Beau sees.
“Show me,” Mia whines from outside the dressing area. Timidly, I peel open the curtain and watch her reaction as her eyes and mouth both pop open.
“Holy shit! Maggie, you look fucking hot.”
I bite my lip as I catch another glimpse of myself in the wall of mirrors behind her.
“I’ve never worn anything like this before.”
“Your tits look phenomenal,” she replies. “Your man is going to go nuts for you.”
My cheeks warm up at the thought of Beau seeing me in this. It’s not even revealing and once I complete the look with some thigh-highs and garter straps, it’s going to be even better.