Eighteen Evelyn #2
“Sorry,” I muttered, scrunching up my face and jolting again.
Her hands kept brushing my neck as she grabbed sections of hair to weave into the extravagant French braid she was creating.
I couldn’t help but squirm, especially as my mind drifted to thoughts of her using these abilities on other parts of my body in a different context.
“Evelyn,” she warned more seriously.
“Vanessa,” I mimicked, earning a groan from her.
“You’re not a child. You should be able to sit still,” she scolded, skimming my neck again.
“Not when you tickle me.” I frowned at the insult.
“I’m not tickling you.”
“Yes you are!”
“If that’s tickling you—” I knew what was about to happen the moment her firm grip tightened around the braided section to keep it from coming undone. “Then what’s this?” Her hands went straight to my neck.
I jolted backward reflexively, uncontrollable giggles spilling from my mouth. My head ducked downward into her chest, trying to shield myself from her insistent hands. I threw my arms back, squirming viciously. Luckily she stopped after only a few seconds, letting out a low chuckle.
I gasped for air, still recovering against her as I tried to regain my breath. A hand on my back pushed me forward and back into a sitting position, so my head no longer rested against her chest.
“Sorry,” I muttered, a blush creeping over my face as I realized how I’d thrown myself onto her. I whipped my head around nervously, wanting to see her expression. An instant burning sensation hit my scalp—she was still holding the end of my braid for dear life. I had to hold back a low moan.
Luckily, there was an unexpected smile on Vanessa’s face. “If I’d known you were so sensitive, I wouldn’t have done that,” she mused, giving my cheek a gentle push to position my head forward.
She continued braiding my hair as if nothing had happened, her soft breath fanning against my cheek as she finished the ends.
“Face me,” she whispered, a knuckle caressing my jaw to get my attention. Her face was close to mine, checking that the front of the braid was smooth.
My eyes darted to her crimson lips while hers stayed glued to my hair.
She looked so focused, her mouth slightly parted in concentration.
She’d already applied her makeup, further highlighting her natural features—curled lashes framing her seductive eyes, bronzer accentuating her sharp jaw.
My mind grew fuzzy, all the lust this experience stirred finally getting the best of me.
If only you would lean forward another inch.
But before I could do something I’d regret, she leaned back, her eyes meeting mine with a warm smile.
Could she see how much I needed her?
I felt beautiful, all dazzled up in a dress like nothing I’d worn before, and a hairstyle like no one else’s.
I felt special. But it wasn’t just that.
Confidence and power surged through me. The feeling of accomplishment—from working hard and being invited to something so prestigious—was overwhelming.
Eventually, the hours started to drag on and the thrill faded. It was almost 10 p.m., and the dinner was nowhere near close to ending. All my caffeine was long gone, and these social events drained me like nothing else.
Feeling a warm hand on my dress-clad knee, I turned to meet Vanessa’s concerned emerald eyes. “Is everything okay? You seem out of it.”
“Sorry, just tired,” I whispered back.
“No need to apologize. You worked hard today.”
“Thanks. By the way, when do you think this will end?”
“Very subtle, sweetheart.”
“So, you’re enjoying this?”
“No, but I’m actually trying not to be obvious.”
“I liked the first two hours, but I don’t want to hear these boring men share their boring stories. I just want to sleep.”
“Yes, and I’m being subtle about that as well.”
“I can’t help it; these people don’t have your captivating quality.”
A hint of something flashed across Vanessa’s face. “Patience, honey,” she cooed. Her thumb gently stroked my knee, maybe thinking it would help me listen. It did.
Watching Vanessa engage everyone around her was at least interesting. She played these events like a game she’d mastered. She managed to end the dinner exactly when she wanted, powerfully directing the conversations in the most subtle but effective ways. Was she speeding this up for me?
Like clockwork, at exactly 10 p.m., Vanessa had us out the door in the most respectful and polite manner.
“Evelyn, get some sleep, please. You look weary,” she instructed as we walked through the hotel lobby.
“I’ll try.” I was too tired to protest her insult.
“What work do you possibly have keeping you up?” she demanded, slowing down our pace.
“It’s not that,” I answered vaguely.
“Then what is it? We arrived before eleven, and you had to be up at seven. That allowed for a decent night’s sleep.”
“I just didn’t fall asleep till 4 a.m.”
“You can’t do that again. Especially when we have such important meetings and events to attend.”
“I know. I said I’ll try.” I tried not to get emotional as Vanessa checked her dainty gold watch with a frown.
“It’s 10:15 now. I’m expecting you to be asleep within the hour and up by 8 a.m. I want you well-rested with at least eight hours of quality sleep. Am I clear?”
I just nodded. While I never minded her telling me what to do, when I couldn’t do it, the satisfaction I gained from obeying her was replaced with disappointment. Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to burden her with my insomnia.
We said our goodnights as I headed into my room.
The added pressure Vanessa had put on me to get sleep was only making this worse.
That was how insomnia worked—the harder you tried, the harder sleeping was.
I took a short shower, not daring to wash my hair and destroy Vanessa’s art.
It was a memory, one I wanted to keep forever.
Even running my hands over it made me smile.
I changed into an oversized T-shirt and sweatpants before crawling under the thick, inviting covers. But like powerful magic, my tiredness disappeared the moment my head hit the pillow.
I tried for a good hour, resisting the urge to check the clock every few minutes, before my frustration became unbearable. Giving up, I jolted out of bed, furiously pacing my room.
Vanessa wouldn’t understand why I was even more of a disaster tomorrow.
Stressing out about her reaction was probably what was keeping me awake in the first place.
I paced and paced, my heart speeding up by the minute.
This was a lost cause. I got back into bed, trying once more to get comfortable to no avail.
My mind raced even faster. I needed a change of scenery to calm down.
I considered texting Vanessa. Maybe explaining the situation in advance would numb my fear of disappointing her. After thinking and walking a few more circles, I took out my phone, accepting it was the only thing that could help.
Evelyn: I wanted to tell you I have insomnia. That's why I can't sleep. I do try.
Vanessa: I understand. Come to my room.