The silk, with its faint champagne shimmer, had clung to her body as naturally as her skin when she stepped into the gown two hours ago. A single strap clasped perfectly to her shoulder, giving way to a ripple of fabric that hugged her upper body, pooled perfectly around her hips, and cascaded to the ground. Now it was all too tight. A constant awareness of prying eyes straightened her spine and caused her shoulder blades to throw themselves at one another. That heavy sound, the one full of energy but lacking in depth, pulled at the silk. She fidgeted around in her seat, trying to pull back, to regain her comfort. Once she brushed elbows with the man to her left; he turned and winked at her. She sat on her hands to avoid splashing the rest of her champagne in his face. The seat to her right had a tangible emptiness. Looking at the untouched food, fork and knife laying haphazardly across the prime rib, where they were almost put to use, she sighed slowly.
“Ah, you must be the newbie’s wife, huh? Welcome to the circus darlin’,” Senator John Smith number 49 said as he passed by, his evening gown-donning accessory draped over his arm.
The newbie’s wife. When did she become that foreign creature?
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