Dreamboat Read Online Free Page B

irresponsible, messy, and noisy. Even though it had been a strain on her budget, she had managed to hang onto this place by herself. Now, with a growing following, her tips alone took care of the rent.
    Crissy went to the one closet in the apartment and began rummaging through her clothes, trying to decide what to wear tonight. It was really a no-brainer, she decided, since she didn’t have that many things to choose from. At least not the kind of clothes she wanted to be seen in tonight. She took a long-sleeved T-shirt out, slipped it off its hanger, and laid it on the bed. It was made out of a glittery black stretch fabric that looked a lot more expensive than it was. It was clingy as well, emphasizing her ample breasts and slim waistline. Going back to the closet, she wondered whether to wear trousers or a miniskirt. What would a powerful man who worked at the Capitol like? she wondered, then laughed aloud at the thought. She finally decided on a pair of sleek black trousers that fit her to perfection, then she quickly showered and blow-dried her hair.
    She took great pains putting on fresh makeup: eyeliner, mascara, shadow, lipstick, and blusher. She dabbed her favorite perfume, Femme, under her ears. She loved its scent, and had to be careful not to use too much. Looking into the mirror over the sink, she examined her face and hair closely and decided that she looked good. Sexy, but not hookerish. The club would be dimly lit, so she was wearing a bit more makeup than usual to compensate. Her black hair, cut in a deceptively simple A line, shone with vitality, and her dark eyes sparkled. The eyeliner and shadow she’d used slightly accentuated their Asian slant. Cat’s eyes, her father had called them, and while they were an indication of her mixed lineage—a liability, some would think—she thought they were one of her best assets.
    In the bedroom/living room, she put on a lacy black bra and slipped into black, high-heeled mules that were stylish but comfortable and easy to take off if she danced a lot. Finally, she went to her chest of drawers and took out the small box that held her black satin belt. It had a rhinestone-studded buckle in the shape of a Maltese cross, and it was one of her favorite articles of clothing. She put it on, then retraced her steps to the bathroom, where she checked herself out in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, turning this way and that. She adjusted her top, tucking it in just so, then switched off the bathroom light and closed the door. Almost done, she thought.
    From the chest of drawers, she took out the box that held her small black satin evening clutch, and removed it from the layers of white tissue paper she’d wrapped around it. Like the belt, it was a favorite, and she took care great of them both. She put in her wallet and car keys. Although Jenny had said she would pick her up, Crissy was certain that she would be asked to drive, and she didn’t mind. She was nearly always the designated driver nowadays, since she could have no more than a glass of wine. Like so many Asians or part-Asians, she had Asian alcohol syndrome, and couldn’t drink much without getting drunk, sick, or both. From her closet, she took the fluffy black fake-fur jacket that she wore for dressy occasions in the winter. Friends often joked with her about it—what kind of animal is that?—but Crissy didn’t mind. She didn’t like the cheap furs she could afford, like rabbit, and though she loved the look of more expensive mink and sable, their price was out of her reach. Besides, beautiful as fur could be, she could never rid her mind of the gruesome images of slaughtered animals that she’d seen at animal rights protests.
    She remembered when she was a child her father, a Vietnam vet, had somehow struggled to buy her mother, Lily, a fur coat. It had been an inexpensive one, but her father, who was on disability and drank most of the