by Roya Carmen
I smile, wondering what he’s up to now.
“Now, you don’t need to do anything you don’t want to, but it’s in the agreement. It’s up to you.”
Uh-oh. I wonder what he has in mind now. Not knowing scares me, but it also excites me. A lot.
25
“What?” I ask curiously. “What were you thinking?”
He rakes a hand through his hair. “I thought it would be nice if you could undress for me.”
“Oh, you want me to strip for you?” I don’t know if I like the idea of that, of him seeing me slowly reveal myself to him in this vulnerable way. All of me. “Would you like a lap dance too?”
He laughs. “Well, that would be lovely as well. Only if you’re up for it, Grasshopper.”
I consider undressing for him. I’ve worn a sexy matching bra and panties set, virginal white, innocent. I’ve shaved my legs and waxed my bikini line. Truth be told, I had a feeling this kind of thing might come up. A woman should always be prepared.
“I thought… once you’re naked, and I get to admire you for a bit, I could help you into that red dress. I’d love to see you in it.”
I smile. “I’m not sure if it still fits. The last time I wore it was four years ago.”
“Well, let’s see, shall we.”
I shake my head, and turn from him for a moment as I contemplate doing this. Thankfully, I’ve had two glasses of wine and am feeling pretty loose and frisky. I honestly don’t think I could do this without the liquid courage.
I whip my hair as I turn around to face him with a seductive expression on my face. Or at least what I think is a seductive expression.
He smiles, urging me to continue.
“I need some music,” I tell him, and hop over to my chest of drawers where my speaker sits. My phone is right next to it, and I debate what song might be best. I finally decide on Run DMC Walk this Way. It’s upbeat, fun and kind of sexy.
I swivel my hips and sway, laughing. He seems amused and excited. I toy with my hair in that flirty way I’ve seen strippers do in movies and on TV. I wonder if I’ve ever seen a stripper in the flesh. I don’t think I have. I’ve lived a very secluded life.
I reach for the tie of my dress, and shoot him a playful smile as I tug at it. I know I should probably be wearing heels for this. I’m doing this all wrong, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all.
He looks quite comfortable in my bed, watching me revealing myself to him. I peel the dress off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
He bites his lip again. “Wow. I love it.”
I sway my hips, turn on my heel, and stick out my ass for him because I know he loves it.
“My little grasshopper is not as shy as I thought,” he says. His voice has changed. It’s deeper, more ragged. “Take them off.”
“Patience, Mr. Boss Man,” I scold. “All in due time.”
“You are cruel, Miss Morris.”
I turn to him. “Yes, it’s my turn to be cruel.”
He rubs a hand against his face. “May… may I touch myself?” he asks ever so politely.
I still for a moment. He’s such a naughty man. I turn back to see I’ve left the door ajar. I walk over and lock it carefully. We are both consenting adults, and the thought of him pleasuring himself while watching me excites me in the most unexpected of ways. “Yes,” I finally say, giving him the go-ahead.
I’m officially aroused now as I toy with the lacy band of my panties, swaying my hips. I watch him intently as he undoes his fly, and reaches into his pants. He closes his eyes for just a second when he grabs his hard-on.
God, I’m turned on. I follow suit, and slip my own hand under the fabric of my panties. I reach down and slide my fingers against my pussy. I’m already wet. I trail my other hand over my breast and with a swift motion of my fingers, I release it from my bra.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “I love your breasts.” His strokes are slow and his eyes are dark and hooded. He’s not rushing, and I like that. I like that we can play together like this, without even touching each other. It might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever done.
My nipples are hard under my touch, and my fingers are eager. I feel a climax coming on and suddenly it’s all I can think about.
“Take the brassiere off,” he commands.
I reach back for the clasp and quickly undo it. It falls to the floor, my breasts in full evidence. I suddenly feel exposed, vulnerable, but only for a moment.
“Touch yourself again,” he urges, breathless. His strokes are hurried, and his body has all but melted into my bed covers. He’s nearing too.
Feeling bold, I reach into my panties again and stroke myself. It feels so good.
We watch each other as we pleasure ourselves. We get completely lost in each other, in the moment. A delicious tingle runs up my spine as my climax nears. I drown in it, savoring every second. I moan out loud because I want him to know how good he makes me feel. He catches up to me as I settle down. I still touch myself, trying to draw out the last remaining droplets of pleasure as I watch him delight in his own. He’s beautiful as he orgasms, and I know this is a moment I’ll certainly never forget.
When he comes to, I throw myself on the bed, and snuggle up close. He’s suddenly shy as I stroke his arm. “You were beautiful,” I say. “I loved that. You are such a naughty boy.”
He smiles. “I promise this wasn’t what I initially intended.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Honestly,” he says. “I thought you’d be shy and demure, and I’d just feast on the sight of your beautiful naked body, but you were playful and sexy as sin. You were driving me crazy.”
I laugh. “It’s the wine.”
“Well, you should drink more often.”
“Probably not at work though,” I point out.
“Yes, it wouldn’t be good for Rosetta to find us like this.”
“You could always lock the door,” I suggest. “For privacy.”
“But then she’d know something was up.”
She already knows, I want to scream, but I let it go.
He untangles himself from me. “I’m just going to go wash up. You stay there on the bed, and when I get back, we’ll slip on that gorgeous dress.”
“You want to try it on first?” I tease.
He shakes his head, and scurries to the ensuite.
I stare at the light fixture on my bedroom ceiling, still not believing what just happened. It was so dirty, yet kind of romantic. It was weird. It’s certainly not something I ever did with Donovan. Donovan and I had good sex, but not too many theatrics, nothing too original. He always made sure I came though. He was very selfless that way. The few times I didn't left him upset.
Weston reaches for the dress, and carefully unzips the bodice. He’s cautious when he removes it from the mannequin. I sit on the edge of the bed in nothing but my panties, eagerly awaiting the fitting. He motions me to stand, and he carefully splays the dress in front of me on the floor. I daintily walk into it, and he slowly pulls it up my body. He wraps the bodice around my torso, and orders me to turn around. He kisses my shoulder as he slowly works the zip up.
He laughs as he reaches my chest. “Sorry, Grasshopper. It doesn’t fit.”
I’m kind of devastated, but not surprised. “It doesn’t?”
“Nope. I could force it, but you probably don’t want me to do that.”
“No, the dress is too beautiful,” I tell him. “I guess I’ll just need to lose some weight.”
He bites my shoulder, just a nibble. “Don’t you dare. I love you just the way you are.”
My breath hitches. I love you. He could have said I like you, but he didn’t. I shake my head. I’m getting way ahead of myself here. I can’t get too attached. I can’t have any expectations. This is just fun. We’re having naughty fun. Nothing more.
“Okay, Sir. I promise I won’t lose an inch.”
“Good girl. Yes, the dress is stunning, but it can stay on the mannequin. I’ll b
uy you a new dress, even more beautiful.”
I turn to him. “You don’t have to do that, silly. I don’t need a dress. I never go anywhere fancy.”
He sighs. “Now, that needs to be rectified, Grasshopper. A woman should always have an occasion to wear a beautiful dress.”
“Well, last time I checked, I wasn’t a princess,” I point out, a little snarky.
He laughs. “You are to me. You’re my blue haired princess.”
I smile up at him. “You’re such a weirdo.”
“Yes, admittedly, I am. But that’s what you love about me, isn’t it?”
“It is.” I reach up for a kiss, but he presses a finger on my lips.
“Uh-uh. No kissing… remember?”
“Not even a peck?”
He laughs. “No… if those delicious lips find their way to mine, I might just lose all control, and completely ravish you right here, right now.”
Damn, he’s certainly not making this easy. I reluctantly turn from him, and slip out of the dress. I cover myself as I reach for my bra. Suddenly, I’m shy. I retrieve my dress from the floor, and put it back on. Weston is busy carefully slipping the red dress back on the mannequin.
This is not how I had envisioned the evening ending. I anticipated a few more stolen touches, a slap on the bum, perhaps a little touching. Certainly not a striptease, and the two of us pleasuring ourselves in front of each other.
He keeps surprising me. And I love that about him.
26
Sacha is a sweet girl. A little sullen but sweet. She has the longest lashes I’ve ever seen, lama lashes. And the most beautiful long curly hair. She studies me with large doe eyes, and I can’t help but feel sorry for her. Divorced parents, deceased older sister. I want to become her friend and nurture her. Perhaps I could.
“I’ve been trying to teach Sacha how to cook,” Samuel tells me, “but she’s not been too enthusiastic.”
I’m chopping orange pepper for the salad. “Trust me. That’s a skill you’ll want to learn. If you want to be healthy.”
A hint of a scowl traces her features. I realize I sound like a mom. But I am a mom.
Ethan is happily playing with the Connect 4 game on the coffee table. I keep a close eye on him, paranoid that he might choke on one of the pieces, but he’s not putting them in his mouth. He’s just sliding them down the slots, completely riveted. It doesn’t take much to entertain him.
Sacha is chopping lettuce, not too happily. I can see that she really is trying to be amicable, and I appreciate the effort. I remember those days. Being a sixteen year old girl is not easy, in the best of circumstances.
The meatloaf is cooking in the oven, and the kitchen smells delicious. The table is already set, and there’s a pretty vase of flowers at its center. I appreciate the effort he’s made to welcome us, but it also leaves me a bit uneasy. I don’t want him to think this is more than it is.
We chat about our jobs and our kids. And we gossip like junior high girls about the ladies at the group. It occurs to me that there is only two men in the group. Samuel and Frank, an older gentleman who lost his wife to cancer.
We finally sit down to eat, and Ethan eats his meatloaf enthusiastically. He’s such a good boy. I realize how lucky I am to have such a sweet kid. I’m not sure I could handle life as a single mom if he weren’t so good.
The meatloaf is very good, and I offer many compliments. I’m thankful to have been invited into his home. Every new friend is a blessing. I know that sounds a bit trite, but it’s true.
I ask Sacha about school in an attempt to strike up a conversation, but she’s not too chatty. She excuses herself right after the blueberry pie, and leaves us with Ethan.
I help Samuel with the kitchen clean, and I’m brought back to the night before, when roles were reversed, and Weston helped me tidy. I’m positive the evening will end quite differently tonight. There will be no striptease and no masturbation. Well, perhaps there will be on his end after I’m gone. I’ve noticed the way Samuel’s been looking at me, stealing glances here and there. I’m not wearing anything especially sexy, just jeans and a red t-shirt, perhaps a little too snug. I should have worn loose linen pants and a thick sweater.
“Thank you so much for coming tonight,” he says. “It means so much to me.”
“My pleasure,” I tell him. “I try to be as social as I can. I usually make a conscious effort to make friends.” I accentuate the word ‘friends’. I don’t want him to think we’re anything more.
We move to the living room once the kitchen is tidy. Ethan is already busy playing with Sacha’s old books and Seventeen magazines. He seems quite fascinated by the images in the magazines.
We both sit on the sofa. “Can I get you a coffee or tea?” he asks.
“Nope, we should be heading home soon,” I tell him. “Ethan’s tired. He’s rubbing his eyes.”
“Oh, I understand,” he says, clearly disappointed. “I just… I just wanted you to know that I like you a lot, Gretchen.”
Oh, here we go. I should have never accepted his invitation.
He slides closer. “What I mean is… I know you’re not ready for another relationship, but I’m willing to wait. I’m a patient man.”
Oh crap.
I really don’t want to lead the man on. “I thought you were on dating sites,” I say. “You had a date just last week.”
He sighs. “No good prospects. None of them are as great as you.”
I’m somewhat flattered, but also kind of irritated. He’s led me to believe that he was actually seeing women. I accepted his invitation with that in mind. “Well, I certainly don’t want you to give up the dating sites. I… I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready, Samuel.” I really don’t want to tell him that he’s not really my type, that he doesn’t rock my boat. He’s handsome enough, but for some reason, I just don’t feel a spark. I don’t want to kick the man when he’s already down.
He smiles. “Like I said, I’m a patient man.”
Ethan laughs as he rips a page from the magazine.
“Ethan!” I dive as fast as I can, and tear it from his hands. He can’t be destroying Sacha’s things.
He bawls at the top of his lungs. I’ve really hurt his little feelings. I never scold him, and when I do, this is what happens, incessant crying until he wears himself out, catching his breath in gulps of air. I feel so bad.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Samuel. “We should really go. Ethan needs to go to bed. As you can see… he’s pretty cranky.”
“I completely understand,” Samuel says, probably glad to be rid of us.
I dash around the living room, gathering our things, and we exit as quickly as possible.
Turns out I was right. Tonight’s ending was quite different than last night’s.
“Stay still,” she scoffs.
“I’m trying.”
Rosetta wraps the measuring tape around my chest. “The crap I have to do to earn a living,” she complains as she scribbles a number on her notepad.
“What’s this all about?”
“What do you think?” she asks. “You and Boss Man are definitely hiding the salami.”
I stifle a laugh. “We are not.”
“Well, he definitely wants to hide the salami.”
I shake my head. She moves down to my waist, and then to my hips. She then gets quite familiar as she measures the inseam of my leg. I do know what this is about. I’m not stupid. He wants to buy me a dress.
“You promised you’d tell me all the juicy details, and you haven’t said a peep,” she whines. “I’m disappointed.”
“I’m sorry.” I really am. But I certainly can’t tell her about the spanking and biting, the tying up, and the mutual masturbation. I wish I could share something with her, but it’s all kind of weird and sordid. But in a really fun way.
“He’s buying me a dress, isn’t he?”
She smiles up at me. “I believe so.”
“You should get him to buy you somethi
ng too,” I suggest. “It’s only fair.”
Her eyes turn skyward. “I like the way you think, Honey. Excellent idea.”
“So Samuel’s got the hots for me,” I tell the girls.
Abigail puts down her menu. “No way.”
“When it rains, it pours,” Claudia says. “You’re quite the catch these days.”
“I’m having the spinach omelette,” Mischa chimes in, seemingly uninterested in my statement.
“Did he tell you so?” Abigail asks.
“Yes… I thought he was seeing women through the dating sites, but he tells me none of them are as good as me, and he says he can wait for me.”
“Oh my God,” Claudia chirps. “Stalker.”
I shake my head. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. He just likes me.”
“And why wouldn’t he?” Abigail says. “You’re awesome.”
I smile.
“Is he attractive?” Mischa asks.
“He’s all right,” I tell her. “I’m just not personally attracted to him.”
“Yes, you’re too busy with Mr. Dark & Mysterious,” she says, and I detect a slight note of envy.
“I’m not serious about Mr. Dark & Mysterious either,” I point out. “We’re just having fun.”
“Probably for the best,” Mischa says. “It’s never a good idea to get involved with the boss.”
Claudia reaches for her cup of tea. “God, you’re such a Debbie Downer, Mischa.”
“I’m just realistic, that’s all.”
Abigail laughs. “Remember when you thought Abe was a gold digger out for my money?”
Mischa’s laugh is strained. “I admit… I can be paranoid sometimes.”
“So ladies… have we decided on our orders yet?” the server asks.
Mischa is the first to speak up, followed by Abigail. I scramble to make a decision before she gets to me. I settle for the breakfast for lunch option. It’s my go-to.
“So about Mr. Dark & Mysterious,” Claudia continues as soon as the server leaves us. “What’s the latest?”
“We have a flirty dynamic,” I tell her “It’s fun.”