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Part 8


Photo Credit: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/53480314300100163/

Victoria crossed the threshold of Madam Soladar's. The reception area, decorated with Moorish and Gypsy charm was over-the-top. The scene tickled her imagination, and she couldn't resist turning in a circle to view every angle. Persian rugs, woven wall panels, brightly colored furnishings, and a large red chandelier filled the space.  Aqua and Gold Ottomans sat about the room while satin, jewel-toned pillows accented every niche with vibrant color.

 "Wouldn't this make a great movie set for The Desert Sheikh and the Slave Girl?" 

Jessica's intriguing tone drew Victoria's attention to her friend who lounged seductively across two ottomans. The flush on Jessica's cheeks and the merriment in her eyes would have looked natural on the face of a five-year-old. 

"It's certainly interesting," replied Victoria. 

"You're a little late," chided Jessica as she rose and walked to Victoria's side. "Madam Soladar and I made some preliminary choices for you to view. You're going to love these costumes. They're each original. You don't have to worry about someone else showing up at the ball looking better than you in your own costume." 

Victoria laughed, enjoying the first spark of enthusiasm for her dreaded task. At the same moment, Madam Soladar entered the room followed by three models dressed in different costumes. All the garments were visually stunning, but none seemed just right for her. They were too theme-oriented.  On the other hand, the cyan caftan worn by the owner was dazzling. Its glistening yards of silk embellished in gold, floral embroidery, and bead-work flowed majestically around its wearer.  

"This is your chance, Victoria," whispered Jessica. "The right costume could put some kick in your dull life. Don't keep me in suspense, which one are you going to choose?" 

Madam Soladar's soft voice saved Victoria from more of Jessica's zealous eagerness. "I chose what I thought would suit your personality and stature. Your friend was kind enough to give me some suggestions. I hope you approve." 

"All of these are very nice," Victoria said as she considered the samples: A 50's collection, a 20's Flapper ensemble, and a 'Golden Age' jewel-encrusted gown. The latter looked as though it had come straight out of Mrs. Vanderbilt's closet. 

Jessica fidgeted next to her. Her friend made decisions like other people made instant oatmeal, in thirty seconds or less, and hated waiting on slower mortals. 

"I think you'd look great in the Flapper outfit." Jessica said with a big wink as she nudged Victoria's arm. "The fringed skirt will play hide-and-seek with your legs and drive all the men crazy." 

Victoria gave Jessica a forced smile. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness in making these selections for me, but I had in mind something a little different. In fact, I really love the beautiful creation Madam Soladar is wearing. The embellishments are a work of art." 

"Your interest flatters me," said Madam Soladar. "I have been reluctant to offer the clothing of my culture since it is not fully appreciated by many. I regret to say, Miss Ballard, I do not have a caftan of this quality to offer you at this time. There is another possibility, though." 

Madam Soladar looked at her closely, as if there were some additional information written on Victoria's forehead or in her eyes. The solemn, gentle scrutiny embarrassed her. She was glad when the proprietress spoke again. 

"You have the eyes of a moon flower, sensuous and beckoning. I believe you are enticed a little by the unknown and exotic. These things are essential for a very special costume of extraordinary beauty. If you have the time, I will arrange an immediate viewing?"

"How wonderful. She has the time, don't you, Victoria?" Jessica nudged her in the side. 

Victoria struggled to understand the import of Madam Soladar's strange expression. Bemused, she nodded in agreement while she pondered the words...sensuous and beckoning. 

Jessica grasped Victoria's hand as soon as Madam Soladar exited the room. Her eyes scanned the salon. Bending toward Victoria, she whispered into her ear. "Whatever do you think she means?" 

Wondering the same thing, Victoria said the first thing she could think of. "Have a little patience, Jessica. Madam Soladar seems to know what she is doing. I think we can trust her choice." 

Both women sat with their backs spindle straight, hands clenched, and eyes trained on the archway as Madam Soladar returned through the opening. They followed her graceful approach across the richly designed carpet. Both sucked in a deep breath as she took her seat beside Victoria. 

"We are almost ready. The clothing I am about to show you is very special to me. These pieces are replicas of a garment fashioned for a princess of my people. The princess wore them as she danced for her husband at their bridal feast. The story says he fell so much in love with her he emptied his harem, staying faithful only to her. The innocence glowing in your eyes will do honor to these garments." 

Victoria felt her cheeks heat with color. Beads of perspiration popped out on her forehead as harem attire danced through her mind. The hush in the room was pregnant with mysterious possibilities. Jessica found nothing to say. Victoria waited for Madam Soladar to continue. She swallowed to loosen a throat frozen with anticipation and twisted the strap of her purse between her fingers. Instinct warned her to back away from the uncomfortable situation. But Madam Soladar's excitement as she continued her narrative wrenched away Victoria's fleeting opportunity. 

"The colors used in the ensemble have significant meaning: The pink pearls represent the purity of love, the matching pink fabric represents the treasure of innocence, and the gold beads and center broach represent the glowing heat of love's passion." 

Photo Credit: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/296885800416519954/

Victoria's heartbeat took on the rhythm of a jazzy tap dance. Mortification heated her skin to an insufferable sensitivity. At the sound of tinkling bells, she focused on the open archway. A young girl glided into the room. About twenty years of age with bare feet and sweeping black hair, she filled the space with a tantalizing presence. The tinkling sound came from the anklets ringed with small golden bells that played peek-a-boo with the edge of the skirt as she walked. 

Victoria widened her eyes to take in the fascinating illusion. The curves of the girl's slender legs showed through the sheer harem skirts held tightly to her body by a satin girdle. Cut low in the front, the design framed her navel. The top, made of the same fabric as the girdle and fashioned like a small halter top, ended just below her breasts and left the long expanse to her navel bare. A pink silk turban rested on the woman's head like a crown. White veils hung from the turban, draping down her back and over her face. Gold braiding trimmed the headpiece and ropes of pearls hung in scallops, with one scallop adorning the girl's forehead. 

The young model circled the room and then stopped a few feet in front of Victoria. The silence was so complete that Victoria could hear the panting rhythm of her own breath. Then Jessica exploded. 

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Wow! It's perfect for you, Victoria. You'll knock all those stuffy socialites on their...well, you'll knock them flat." 

Victoria was the one knocked flat. She stared at the girl and tried to picture herself in such a costume. A single vision trapped her consciousness and drew her farther and farther into its fictional web, deeper and deeper under its power. She couldn't speak or move and, she could barely make out Jessica's voice fading into oblivion. 

 A cloudy thickness obscured her vision. Upon clearing, she found she was wandering alone along a dimly lit corridor. Shivering from cold, she looked down to find herself dressed in a minuscule outfit more suited to a desert harem than a freezing steel and glass passageway. She didn't know where she was or how she came to be dressed so. Nothing made sense except the need to keep moving forward. 

The inner compulsion could only be described as a summons. It pulled her along as if she were leashed to an unalterable destiny. She followed the empty hallway like a sleepwalker until she approached a set of massive doors flanked by two men dressed in black robes. She stopped, not daring to move closer. 

Before she could discern their intent, the two guardians stepped to the side, opening the wide doors as they went. What stepped toward her through the dark portal was every young girl's fantasy lover, a charismatic desert prince. White flowing robes and a sash of scarlet satin enveloped his dominant masculinity. A white cloth banded with red braiding through which pure gold threads intertwined crowned his head. Sun-kissed skin radiated golden heat, and his smile blazed with supreme arrogance. She fixed her gaze on his face where eyes sparkling with possessive brilliance captured hers. Before she could even think to run, his unyielding arms lifted her high against his chest. With effortless strength, he carried her through the heavy doors and into the darkness beyond. Her ears rang with the sound of a woman's scream. 

"Victoria! Snap out of it! What is wrong with you? Who in the world is Rashid?"

Reality smashed through Victoria's dreamy vision with a jolt. Her whole world was trembling, and no wonder. Jessica held a death grip on her arm and was shaking her like a rag doll. 

"I'm fine, really, I'm fine." She tried reassuring her friend. "My imagination just got the better of me for a moment." 

"I'll say. You were in la-la land screaming at someone named Rashid to put you down." 

Victoria was appalled. Surely, she could not have screamed out his name. What did he have to do with harem girls and desert princes? Why did he keep violating her thoughts even in the light of day? 

"I'm fine, really, just overly tired. I think I need to go home. Jessica, if you don't mind, would you pick a costume for me?" 

Turning to Madam Soladar, she made her apologies and a quick exit. Maneuvering her car into traffic, she fought a surge of nausea as she jabbed at the air-conditioning controls. A blast of cool air washed across her face and she sucked in a deep, calming breath. Rashid, the name rang in her head. What was wrong with her? No matter how hard she tried to keep him out, he kept invading her space. Ten minutes...they had spent no more than ten minutes in the same room. This unconscious and unwanted awareness of him did not make sense. He was a stranger...a stranger she was learning to despise. 

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