Seduced By Red Satin

Shimmering like the light from a fine ruby, the silky fabric beckoned. Touch me. I parted the racks, eager to see what this slip of red really was even though I was looking for full length and just from looking at the hemlines on the rack I could tell it wasn't. Or so I thought.

The hem was held up by another hanger. Some exceptionally smart salesperson (undoubtedly a woman) had saved this gown from certain soiling by keeping the hem off the floor. Beautiful. She deserved a raise.

I held up the hanger and unclipped the hem. The fabric fell through my fingers, liquid and supple as all good satin is. The love affair deepened. It wasn't just floor-length. A small curvy sweep of a train graced the back edge, making it just a little longer and oh so old Hollywood.

I took a deep breath. It wasn't good to get this excited about a dress I hadn't even tried on yet. Or checked out the price tag on. I took another deep breath and flipped over the tag. I blinked and looked again. $29.99? That couldn't be right, could it? For this dress?

I held the dress up again and examined it, trying to find something to justify the price. No pulls or stains or tears anywhere that I could see. Perhaps it was cut poorly or cheaply made. But it was lined and the seams looked good. I needed to try it on.

Glancing around to be sure everything was on the up and up, I eased the dress into my shopping cart and headed for the fitting room. I saved the dress for last, figuring the disappointment would be easier to take if I didn't have to stare at the gown while trying on the rest of my items.

Finally, I unzipped the dress and slipped into it. So far so good. I flipped my hair over one shoulder and tied the halter snuggly. The zipper went up with no problem. I turned to face the mirror but there wasn't really enough room in the cramped cubicle to get a good look.

I ventured out to the all-knowing, all-seeing, truth-telling three-way mirror and peered into it, studying my reflection. The lighting was bad. I'd had better hair days. Had my mascara worn completely off?

And yet the dress was undeniably gorgeous. The sweep of crimson satin flowed over my figure, hugging my curves and transforming me. From the neck down I was Jean Harlow, slinky and seductive. I twisted around and checked the price tag again. Still $29.99.

Another deep breath and I hurried back into the fitting room. I slipped the dress off, and the fabric whispered sweet nothings as it slid down my body. Take me home.

You better believe it, baby. We've got a date in Reno.