Double Trouble:
The Masquerade Ball

Hanna burnt her tongue for the fourth time on her triple frothy, double shot espresso caramel swirled cappuccino, studded with mountains of whipped cream dashed with cinnamon and chocolate shavings.

Humm.

Eying the topping she had a thought – maybe waiting for the cup of liquid to cool down to a boil, she could just lick the whipped cream off and chill down her tongue. Enjoy and heal. What could be a better duo. Calorie loaded burn relief could be a new medical journal entry, and she would be proud to be the presenter.

Hanna had a good imagination.

Better do it quick before Celinda dashed in with the usual apologies offered for being ‘not quite on time’, as she liked to phrase being totally late, and discovered her best friend’s burnt tongue remedy involving whipped cream and objected to the action.

Drat.

The table beside Hanna’s, empty two seconds before she decided to self-help, filled suddenly with two rather respectable looking men. She didn’t know if gentlemen applied yet (they defined differently you know) but even reputable men in her environment could be slightly put off by her intended maneuver.

Plan thwarted, with her tongue throbbing, Hanna turned inward and contemplated what subterfuge outfits Celinda had designed to “go under detection” – another Celinda terminology – to the company masquerade ball.

Hanna knew word definition too. They were about to party-crash a business event, not exactly invited, and could possibly be fired.

The thought that frightened her most was knowing her best friend could get mighty enthusiastic over costumes, or attire in general. Hanna just hoped hers had more yards of fabric than a few inches covering basic body parts.

Hanna knew before the doors opened that Celinda had arrived at the entrance to the coffee bar.

Six pairs of male baristas eyeballs swiped from the customer in front of them, to the glass doors separating the street from access to the building.

The respectable men/gentlemen at the table beside Hanna suddenly converted into chivalrous knights to the rescue; popping up in a jerk; nearly knocking over their table and dumping cups of hot liquid on the floor.

To many, it would seemingly be a standard assessment of gallantry.

But Hanna was wise to eyeball antics of certain males. Opening the door was a ruse, the main effort of their gallantry was to be rewarded by watching Celinda swish and sway her way over to Hannas table on stilettos – in a very short skirt.

Sir Walter Raliegh was chivalrous too. But when he threw his cloak down over a puddle so Queen Elizebeth would not get her shoes dirty – his recompense as she walked away was minimal. Many yards of heavy fabric, huge bows, ugly shawls, and rear end rump bumpers – disguised the female form he intended to ogle.

Not looking up yet to see for herself but knowing Celinda dressed on non-workdays in outfits ranging from Marilyn Monroe -to Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, Hanna wondered what Celinda’s persona would promote today.

After the afore mentioned swish and sway deliberate stroll across the floor to Hannas table, Celinda settled daintily but carefully on a chair by the table. She waited expectantly for Hanna to inquire about the costumes. She wanted her excitement over this caper to infect Hanna or at least get her cooperation.

Since Hanna remained non-pulsed, Celinda reached into ‘purse’ and scooped up a catalog to push across the table. Suspicion blended with curiosity; Hanna looked at the sleek cover.

She darn well knew it!

A gorgeous pouty lip-glossed model, with very good center of gravity aspect on spiked high heels – chest and buttocks properly accentuated – looked straight at Hanna from the glossy cover with imploring eyes.

Don’t you want to be look like me the gaze said.

Not particularly, Hanna thought.

To avoid being fussed at because she wouldn’t even look inside the catalog, and at least try to accommodate, Hanna turned to the page tabbed with a sticky note.

‘The Uplifter’.

Descriptions following were well and truly alarming to Hanna and probably meant to mislead the reader.

They read: “Comfortable super soft microfabric push-up bra, with strong, non-bendable steel wires – guaranteed to elevate and place the breast at higher alignment to create a more accentuated female form.”

Say, what?

Soft comfortable covering over unbendable steel wiring able to push breasts up and move them towards your chin?

Didn’t sound like the ‘Uplifter’ was labeled correctly as far as Hanna was concerned.

Hanna knew word definition too.

Soft microfabric and unbendable steel wires were in classification conflict when applied to a garment she intended to adorn her body with. Sounded to Hanna much like the psychology of wearing stilettos – only for your boobs. This contraption too, wanted to reorder and squash into unnatural positions nature’s given body parts.

Hanna then had another troubling thought. What would happen to her body if she combined the two elements of distortion – battle armored push-up bra and high off the floor stilettos?

Nothing good she supposed. Buttocks might maintain accurate accentuation, but her breasts would be pushed so far up – her chin could rest on them. The mental visual was disturbing on so many levels.

Hanna decided to try out the word ‘no’ and see how long it took before it turned into a yes.

Before she could utter her refusal – Celinda reached into ‘purse’ and plucked out a sample of the deforming femineity enhancing contraption and slid it across the table – along with the ‘look’.

Took about twenty-seven seconds before ‘no’, turned into ok – you win.

Leaving the coffee bar with an ice chip for Hannas’ scorched tongue, the two best friends left to go to Celinda’s house and prepare to ‘go under detection’ to the company’s masquerade ball.

Celinda’s bedroom looked, as usual, like a department store sale and craft store close out had merged to create a mountain of multi-colored chaos. Celinda was extremely proficient at shopping.

Long dresses, short dresses, hats, gloves, shoes, oodles of bangles, jars and jars of face stuff, lip stuff, hair stuff, etc.

A few of Celinda’s more sensuous fashions from Victoria’s Secret Hanna thought looked challenging to put on and not very comfy. Perhaps they came with a manual of some sort.

“Want something to drink, Han?”, Celinda asked.

“No, just get me wired up”, Hanna replied with a deep sigh. It was probably the last chance she had to breathe properly tonight.

The two had about four hours before they were due to arrive at the event center. Celinda enlightened Hanna on the progression of occurrences. They wanted to arrive fashionably late, and optimistically, after the other guests had ingested copious amounts of strong liquor.

In the cab ride over, Hanna was sweating and breathing shallowly. The soft covered unbendable steel wiring of the “Uplifter’ was jabbing her ribs into her lungs. Celinda was steadily applying extra glossy lip gloss and breathing just fine.

Celinda had explained as well, their exact entry strategy to get past the two white-gloved attendants who would be guarding access to the ballroom – she would handle them.

Hanna had no problem at all with that plan, in fact, it really worked for her.

The door guarding attendants beamed picture perfect smiles at them, politely requesting their invitation.

Celinda swiftly cued up the fainting couch misdirection; deep sigh and collapsing swoon of a dainty damsel in distress…Cool water in lieu of smelling salts would do wonders to revive her…thank you ever so much.

One attendant did a Flash Gordan and swooshed off down the hall to the facilities kitchen to fetch chilled water; leaving his co-worker to steadfastly guard Celinda’s heaving cleavage.

The panoramic view stepping onto the ballroom floor was unconditionally magical.

Gleaming parquet floors, chandeliers hung along the walls projecting low romantic light, debonaire tuxedo attired waiters ambling about the guests, balancing thin stems of crystal flutes on trays bearing champagne and pimento topped hors d’oeuvres.

Double Trouble had arrived.

Celinda roamed among the elites – swishing and swaying, mingling, dancing, and small talking like she was part of the herd.

Hanna found a secluded spot in an alcove to adjust the soft covered steel wires of the ‘Uplifter’ and watched her best friend do her thing and absorb the show in front of her.

Once she could breathe easier, Hanna looked about the room. There in a gaggle of peers was Mr. Ballou, their boss, laughing full out, displaying unnaturally white teeth.

He looked quite debonaire in his tux but completely pickled.

Celinda wouldn’t admit this to anyone but Hanna, but when the feet twisting stilettos and the soft fabric sheltered steeled underwire of the ‘Uplifter’ got to be too much suffering even for her – she sent Hanna a secret best friend bat signal – to let her know the caper had concluded.

Maybe wishes do come true – if you wish hard enough.

On the cab ride home, they gossiped to each other on the evening’s fruitful details.

They had socialized with company elites incognito, ate yummy snacks, drank chilled bubbly – and were probably still employed.

-Leika