Chapter 1
Intro:
Joan Ferguson stood staring down at the items in her hands. She was unsure why she thought this was a good idea. This was not her, this was not something she did, and it made her skin crawl to think that others thought that it was. The music pulsing throughout the shop assaulted her good taste. She had entered this luxury bath and body shop with utter trepidation, but knew she did not drive two cities over and then sit in her car talking herself into this for her to bail and not follow through with the plan.
The place smelled of patchouli, which made her nose curl when she entered, but she had read online that this place carried quality products and she knew would only buy what would be worth every penny. Joan held up the bath oil in one hand and the shampoo bar in the other. They boasted promises of relaxation and soft complexion. She could not discern what made these products worth it, she was a woman of practicality. She could not see why someone would take the time to do more than a simple wash, but she knew that some women enjoyed feeling treated and pampered.
A young woman approached her with hesitation, "Can I help you, ma'am?"
She caused Joan to startle slightly. She now wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. "Yes, bring these to the cash. Do you have candles? Nice smelling ones? Bag one of those up too." She strode over with open wallet to the counter and refused to give the cashier eye contact as she put the purchase on credit. She snatched the bag and exited before anyone could ask her to smell something or, god-forbid, merrily suggest she test some sort of foul lotion.
Before she drove home, she had to make one more stop. This one made her even more uncomfortable than the first. She would honestly rather stab herself in the eye than run this next errand because with it came touching and decisions and snide looks from bitch sales women who thought they ran the world. She would make herself though, because all this was for a greater plan, and if everything was not perfect it would not be worth the effort.
The sales woman had to stand on a stool to wrap the measuring tape around Joan's chest. Joan's clenched her jaw to the point that she felt pressure behind her eye. She was a Governor for Christ's sake; people trembled in fear at her mere presence. There must be some more dignified way to figure out what size lingerie she needed. When she entered this establishment she had scoffed at the idea of needing help, but after standing and looking at the racks and racks of finery, a young clerk had worn her down and escorted her to a fitting room. Joan cleared her throat a little too abruptly and loudly when the tape pulled taunt. "Good, lord" she mumbled under her breath.
Joan drove home, feeling tense and exhausted. She had a bag that contained things of a delicate nature, which was against her nature, all wrapped in tissue paper, as well as a bouquet of white freesias. She wished she'd thought ahead to pay someone to do this for her, but now that it was done she would at least never have to venture down this road for a good long time.