by P. J. Mellor
Realizing her legs were wobbly, she giggled and walked gingerly into the bathroom. They’d probably had more sex last night than she’d had in her entire life.
She leaned closer to the mirror and examined the slight discoloration at the base of her neck, unable to stop smiling.
She couldn’t wait to “help” Devon again.
After a quick shower, Jamie braided her hair into a single braid and headed toward the boardwalk. Maybe Shirl would have a new shipment of dresses in. Devon was taking her out to dinner, and she wanted to look her best.
“Hey, doll,” Shirl called in his distinctive deep raspy voice when the bell jingled to announce her arrival. “I just got some stuff in that’s your size!” He toddled on orange-sequined heels to the door of the stockroom and pulled out a rolling rack. “Check it out while I make a couple of calls to customers.”
Today Shirl was dressed in a pair of lime-green stretch capri pants that were stretched to the max. His obviously waxed chest didn’t improve the neckline of the plunging neon-pink tank top. The edge of his fake boobs, clearly visible through the bra he wore, pushed against soft knit, giving his chest a boxy look. His outlandish red hair was piled on top of his head, secured with what looked suspiciously like a big swizzle stick topped with a little pile of fake fruit. Tiny clusters of bananas hung from each pierced ear, giving him the appearance of a Caribbean queen on testosterone overload.
Obviously noticing her stare, he did a slow turn and then flicked one earring with the tip of a bright coral fingernail. “What do you think? Too much?”
“Well, it’s certainly, um, eye-catching.”
Shirl nodded and looked thoughtful, so Jamie took it as a sign to try on a few dresses she snagged from the new items.
With Shirl’s voice rumbling in the background, Jamie tried on three dresses and a pantsuit that reminded her of a costume from The Brady Bunch.
Disheartened, she walked out to rehang the clothes, shaking her head at Shirl’s questioning look.
“Hold on, sugar.” Shirl covered the receiver and whispered. “Did you see the black number on the other end?” He made a shooing motion with his hand and then went back to his conversation.
Jamie held up “the black number.” Tiny sparkles woven into the fabric caught and reflected the light coming in through the plateglass windows. The dress looked tiny, but the tag confirmed it was her size.
She tested the fabric by giving it a little tug. It stretched and then popped right back.
In the fitting room, she stared at her reflection. She looked like she was wearing black-glittered shrink-wrap.
After confirming that no one else was in the store, she hurried out to the three-way mirror. By light of day, it really wasn’t bad.
She turned, observing the dress from every conceivable direction, light reflecting her every move. The long sleeves were sheer with the same tiny sparkles woven in. The neckline was low. Very low. It dipped almost to her belly button, while the back stopped just shy of being too revealing. A jaunty bow of the same fabric saved the back from being risqué by hiding the telltale slope of her derriere.
The hem was shorter than she usually wore, and she had to resist the urge to tug it down.
“Okay, doll, if you don’t take that dress, you are banned from this shop for eternity.” Shirl walked over and motioned for her to turn. Then he let loose a loud wolf whistle. “Damn, I wish I had it in my size.”
“I can’t imagine how anyone taller could wear it without being exposed.” Jamie frowned at the expanse of leg showing and wondered if she had the nerve to wear it that night.
“Truth be told, I think it may be a tunic top, doll, but it’s the perfect dress for you.” He pointed at her. “Stay right there. I think I saw some heels in the box that would go perfectly with it.”
For a big man, he moved pretty fast in high heels.
“What size do you wear, doll?” he called from the back room.
“Five or five and a half, but you may as well forget it,” she called back, “because it’s almost impossible to find that size anymore.” Which was fine, because she preferred flip-flops anyway.
Shirl emerged, waving a pair of the highest black heels Jamie had ever seen. “They’re a six, but they’re so high you’ll probably need the extra room to keep from pinching your toes. Gravity, you know.” He shoved the shoes toward her. “Look, they even have the same little sparkles as the dress.”
Jamie kicked off a flip-flop and slipped on one of the shoes. She would have immediately fallen over had Shirl not reached out to grab her. “I’ll never be able to walk in these things!”
“Sure you will, doll. If I can do it, so can you.” He held up the remaining shoe, light-leather sole out. “They don’t look like they’ve ever been worn, so maybe you should walk out on the sidewalk and do a few practice laps in front of the store to roughen up the soles while you get the hang of walking in them.”
Devon paced around his living room and checked the clock for about the fifth time in as many minutes. Killer was having another sleep-over with Petunia and Francyne, and it was surprising how much he missed him.
He glanced at the dark screen of the laptop and tamped down the guilt for not working on his book. After he had walked Jamie home last night—okay, so it had been closer to this morning—he had come home and written up enough descriptions to keep the editor of the Midnight Fantasies company happy for a while; then he’d faxed them.
But his mind wasn’t on his work anymore. Hadn’t really been, since he and Jamie got together.
Just the thought of his impending date had Mr. Happy ready to ride.
Images of the previous night flashed through his mind, tightening his pants.
Damn. With the way his life had been going lately, maybe he should try his hand at writing porn.
29
Jamie wiped her sweating palms on the sides of her new dress and eyed her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.
The dress was so formfitting, she had not been able to wear any underwear. The back was too low for a bra, and the fit would reveal panty lines, regardless of the scantiness of the undergarment. She knew because she’d tried on every thong she owned.
The good news was, due to the elasticity of the dress, she was still able to wear her gel augmentation. Just to make sure they were secure, she jumped up and down a few times. Both breasts remained at the same size and location.
A part of her told her it was stupid to continue wearing the hot, uncomfortable things. After all, she was going to be with Devon. He’d seen and felt the real her plenty of times by now. He hadn’t even seemed to notice the disparity in size.
But they were going out in public. Fred could be lurking. That’s why she had splurged on a new hair coloring kit and renewed her blondness that afternoon. Devon had been busy, so she’d also slathered on self-tanning lotion and then gone and sat by the pool to speed along the process. She’d discovered that the sun helped the self-tanner look more like a real tan. It also helped dissipate the smell somewhat.
Her shoulders slumped. What was she doing? She and Devon had been having a perfectly lovely, intensely sexual relationship. Why had she let him talk her into going out on an actual date? She liked him too much. It would be too easy to fall for him. And she didn’t want to do that.
She couldn’t afford to get emotionally involved with anyone until she was certain she was safely away from Fred forever.
The air clicked on, giving her a definite draft. She guessed going pantyless would do that for a person. She critically eyed the hemline again and then dragged a kitchen chair into the bathroom and sat down in front of the mirror. Nothing showed.
Just to be sure, she got her compact and pretended she was stepping in and out of a car. Again, nothing showed except an expanse of tanned leg.
Thank goodness.
She glanced at the clock on the oven. Devon would be there soon. Had she brushed her teeth?
She ran i
nto the bathroom again and swished mouthwash and then rebrushed her teeth, just to make sure.
Of course, then she had to reapply her lipstick. She leaned close to make sure there was no red stain on her teeth. The bright red lip color had been Shirl’s idea. Jamie personally preferred softer shades and the lightness of a gloss.
She frowned at her reflection and then grabbed a tissue and scrubbed the bright junk off. Digging in her little makeup bag, she finally found her Clinique Ripe Apple lip gloss and swiped it across her lips and then smiled. That was more like it.
Rick and Todd were sitting, talking quietly, in the courtyard when Devon headed for Jamie’s apartment. He noticed they stopped talking as he approached.
“Hey, guys, how’s it going?” He stopped just shy of the fire pit and observed them. What was going on?
Todd shrugged and took a swig of his beer. “Not much.” He eyed Devon. “Got a date or something?”
Devon nodded and cast a nervous glance at Jamie’s apartment. Should he tell who he was taking out?
“Rick, when did you get back to town?” Diversion was always a good tactic. “I thought I saw your truck in the back lot yesterday, but then it wasn’t there, so I thought maybe not.” His watch confirmed he had a few minutes, so he pulled up a chair but shook his head when Rick held up a beer.
“Yeah, I got in yesterday. Had a bunch of errands to run, so I went back out right away.” Rick stretched and looked at Todd and then slumped back in his chair. “Anything interesting been going on while I was gone?”
“New tenant.” Todd nodded in the direction of Jamie’s apartment. “I met her. Seems nice.” He grinned. “Hot stuff, right, Dev?”
Beneath his crossed arms, Devon clenched his fists. He made a noncommittal shrug. He knew by the smile on Todd’s too perfect face that he was razzing him, but his relationship with Jamie was too new to discuss with anyone.
That thought brought his brain to attention. Did he and Jamie have a relationship? Sure, they enjoyed great and varied sex, but did that mean they were involved in a relationship? The thought was sobering, to say the least.
He wasn’t sure he was ready to get involved with anyone. After all, he had his writing career to consider. He’d always planned to settle down someday, maybe even get married and have a family. But he’d also planned to write and sell his books. While he didn’t intend to wait until he hit the best-seller list, he’d always thought he wouldn’t begin to seriously look for anyone until he’d at least published his first book. Hell, he could barely support himself and Killer; forget a wife and potential future children.
Yet now that he’d gotten to know Jamie—and he didn’t mean only in the biblical sense—he couldn’t really imagine life with anyone else.
Pretty scary thought.
“Dev?” Todd’s voice broke into his thoughts. “I said we’re going to P.O.’s, maybe grab some barbeque and play some pool. Wanna come?”
Devon made a show of looking at his watch. “No. Thanks, anyway. I’ve got something else to do in a bit.”
Todd’s grin flashed white in the firelight. He gave Devon a playful punch on the shoulder. “Go get her, tiger.”
He and Rick laughed as they walked away like they thought the idea of him scoring with someone like Jamie or anyone for that matter was a big joke.
Was it? He’d spent most of his life with his nose stuck in a book or daydreaming. Or cooking. Not exactly potential stud material.
Jamie jumped when the knock echoed in her apartment and gave herself one more once-over. Deciding it was probably too late to change her dress, she tightened her butt muscles to avoid wobbling as she walked to the door in her new shoes.
A glance in the old mirror on the living room wall made her stop for a second. If she’d thought she didn’t recognize the new her in the mirror before, what she saw tonight was even more of a stretch.
She took a deep breath and continued toward the door.
“Take no prisoners,” she whispered and opened the door.
Devon paused in the process of spraying his mouth and started coughing.
“Devon!” She rushed to him and pulled him into her apartment. She closed the door and watched as he continued to cough. “Are you choking? Can I get you a glass of water?” He shook his head. “Call nine-one-one?” That earned her a glare. Relief washed over her. He was going to be okay.
“Just give me a sec,” he wheezed.
He took a deep breath and straightened up, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Sorry about that. You surprised me. I didn’t think you’d answer the door so soon so I decided to take a shot of breath spray.” He shrugged. “Guess I inhaled.” He brushed a kiss across her lips. “But at least I know my breath is fresh,” he said with a smile.
“Yes, it is.” She stood smiling up at him, her smile telling him it was okay to behave like an idiot with her. She understood.
Then again, maybe her smile just said he was an idiot. He wasn’t all that adept at reading female body language.
“Are you ready to go? Our reservation is for nine.”
“Sure. Just let me grab my purse.” She turned and picked up a miniscule black object not much bigger than a number-ten envelope.
He squinted. Was she wearing any underwear? He sure couldn’t see any panty lines. Or any other lines, come to think of it.
Pausing at the door, she looked back at him. “What? Is there a problem?” She looked down at her shoes and dress. “Don’t I look all right? Is what I’m wearing too much? Too little?” She gave a nervous-sounding laugh.
“How can you walk in those shoes?” he finally blurted out and then could have bitten his tongue when her face fell. “I mean,” he racked his brain for a way to soothe her obviously hurt feelings, “they’re nice. Pretty. They match your dress, don’t they?” He nodded like a Bobble-Head doll. And felt about as intelligent. “I just asked because I wouldn’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
When he opened them again, she was smiling shyly up at him.
“Don’t worry, I’ve been practicing walking in them all afternoon. But you can hold on to me, if you want, just in case.”
Great. If she knew how he wanted to hold on to her, she wouldn’t be smiling. She’d be screaming and running. Then again, with her wearing those shoes, he might be able to catch her.
He watched her lock the door and then walked her to his car, one hand on her elbow and the other at the small of her back.
She smiled up at him and thanked him for helping her into the bucket seat of his Mustang.
He closed her door and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he walked around the car.
Was Jamie really that clueless?
Heaven help him. He was dating a woman in a fuck-me dress if he’d ever seen one.
30
Jamie had a difficult time enjoying the delicious meal. At least, she thought it was probably delicious. She was too busy concentrating on keeping her legs together. As if that hadn’t been bad enough, the hostess had seated them on the upper level of the rotating dining room. She felt like people were looking right up her dress.
From the leering glances of some of the men at the bar, they probably were.
“You’re not having a very good time, are you?” Devon looked down at his plate, shoving food around with his fork. “I should have taken you somewhere else. The food is good, but—”
“No!” She reached across the starched white tablecloth and touched his arm. “It’s great. Really. I just, um, have a little problem with heights. And it’s made worse by the rotating.” She shrugged. “I can’t look out the window or I’ll get dizzy.”
He dropped his fork to his place and heaved a sigh. “Like I said, I should have picked another place.” He looked over at her. “I had no idea you had a problem or I’d have picked a stationary restaurant. On ground level.”
She squeezed his hand. “Of course you would have. But you didn’t know. And this is really a very nice
place.” She picked up a lump of something and popped it in her mouth, chewing appreciatively. “And the food is delicious,” she added after swallowing.
“You look pretty,” he said and flashed a small smile.
“Thanks. So do you.” She put her hand to her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that, should I? I meant you look handsome.”
He grinned, and she was once again struck by his features. Handsome was too mundane for the way he looked. By day he was sexily scruffy, but when he cleaned up and wore something other than shorts and flip-flops, he took her breath away.
He took a sip of his drink. “I’ll settle for pretty. Handsome might be a stretch.”
“Not really.” Had he no idea of how attracted she was to him?
“Thanks.” He stood up and extended his hand. “Would you like to dance?”
The idea of dancing in the high heels filled her with terror. Besides, she knew what was beneath his starched shirt and tie and conservative sports coat. Before the evening was through she planned to touch and kiss and lick every inch of the skin hidden from view.
The thought made her achy in places that hadn’t ever ached before. Last night had been wonderful.
She fully intended for tonight to be even better.
He paused at the top of the spiral staircase. “Maybe we should ask if there’s an elevator.”
“I don’t want to wait. Let’s go home.” When still he hesitated, she said, “Tell you what, why don’t you go ahead of me? That way, if I slip, you can catch me.”
He thought about that for a second and then nodded. “Good plan.”
After he’d descended a couple of steps, she placed her hands on his shoulders and began her decent, trying not to look down.
Evidently, she didn’t lift her foot quite high enough on the second step.
The tip of her heel caught on the edge of the carpeted step. Thinking it was just picking on the fiber of the carpet, she pushed out with that foot a little harder. Her foot connected with air, and before she could do more than squeak her surprise, she was beginning a bumpy descent down the stairs.