I tried to stay calm, to breathe slowly as they helped me step on into the surprisingly lightweight gown. And it did feel like heaven getting into it, all that silk sliding over my body.
It fit pretty well too, because I didn’t even have to exhale all my air out just to get the zipper to go up.
I turned around to the two women and they both had a quizzical look on their faces.
“Mona, darling…” Bette chimed.
The door to the changing room opened and Mona walked in. “Yes.”
“What is all of that?” Bette pointed up at my chest.
Mona leaned in and gently told Bette, “It comes with a built in bra.”
“Oh,” Bette and Darla said at once, and then reached out for me.
“Wait!” I screeched, holding out my hands to fend them off. “I can get it myself.”
I’d be damned if I was going to let them strip my bra off too. The way they whipped clothes on and off me I’d find out I was missing a nipple when I got home.
I turned around and reached back to unzipped the back of the dress, slid the silky straps off and let the dress slink down to my hips. Then I undid my front-loading, boring white bra and took it off. It was weird being naked on top, especially in front of other women. Even with my back to them.
Felt like freshman PE all over again.
I pulled the dress back up, slipping the straps onto my shoulders, and then zipped the dress up again.
I turned and held out my arms.
“Well?”
Darla gulped and held a hand over her mouth, holding back a laugh.
Bette just rolled her eyes and walked over, taking hold of the straps and brusquely rearranging my boobs.
“For crying out loud, Hope… you’d think you’ve never played with these suckers before!”
Played with them? I felt the blood rush to my face as I was sure I changed all kinds of shades of red.
Bette gave the straps another jiggle, and then, tongue bit between her teeth, she smooshed them up and together with her hands.
Oh god, she was playing with my boobs now…
Bette backed up and all three women’s jaws dropped, expressions of awe and delight making their faces glow.
Okay, I had to see this.
I shouldered past them and out into the mirror room. I halted and stared at myself.
Wow…
I turned.
And wow…
I looked freaking gorgeous. The brown and caramel silk made my skin look cool and creamy, and the length made my hips look good, and my legs look long and elegant. Actually, the whole dress practically glistened with elegance.
And, oh jeez, look at my girls! They were lifted up and bunched into an alluring, creamy looking display of cleavage… that I never knew I had.
Bette whistled low. “I think I might just rethink my strictly dick-ly policy.”
I looked back at her, aghast.
She smiled wickedly. “Just kidding. I have my eye on a new prospect already.”
“You do look amazing,” Darla said, coming forward and giving my nearly bare shoulders a friendly squeeze, and then gave me a stern look. “Just don’t wear this get up anywhere near Drew. I don’t want him getting any ideas.”
“What?”
Darla’s smile matched Bette perfectly. She was messing with me.
I smiled back and then looked back to the looking glass.
“Girls, I can’t make any promises.”
They even scowled at me in unison.
“In this dress, men might just start following me around.” I tossed my head like a super model at a Sports Illustrated photo shoot. “I can’t be held accountable for what might happen.”
Bette caught on first and sneered at me. Darla glared and was about to say something when Bette reached over and touched her arm, and then rolled her eyes at me.
We all broke out into giggles and laughter as they helped me out of the dress. Modesty still made me turn my back until I had my bra on, but this time I wasn’t really nervous. I was giggling too much to be nervous.
Before we left we stopped and tried on a couple pairs of high heels, and found a pair that looked good, matched the dress, and didn’t make my feet feel like they were being bound like in imperialistic China.
The instant we walked out of the boutique and the afternoon baked San Antonio air hit us, my stomach roared like a caged beast ready to rip its way out of me to pounce on the next edible thing passing by.
“I’m starving!”
“Me too,” Darla cooed.
Bette shook her head. “That’s all you two do is eat. I have never seen two grown women put away as much food as you two.”
Darla raised an eyebrow. Damn, I wished I could do that!
“So you won’t be joining us as we raid the Sheetz Made to Order shop two blocks over?”
Bette eyed us for a beat. “I could eat a little something.”
Darla held up her hands in triumph—I snatched the car keys out of her hand.
“I’m driving.”
Chapter 26
Driving Bette’s luxury liner of a car was a new experience. It rode so smooth, its high horse power engine growled gamely as I took it up to the speed limit… and stayed there. But good god the bucket seats were comfy. It was way, way more comfortable than my couch.
Maybe I’d could troll a junk yard and find a Cadillac bucket seat and install it in my living room?
I ignored both Bette and Darla’s grousing that I drove like a grandma and that we were going to get pulled over by the police for GOING TOO SLOW!
I didn’t care. I’d driven all over San Antonio with these two speed demons driving me to nausea, it was my turn to drive!
We pulled into the Sheetz parking lot and the girls fell in behind me as I led the way in the building and up to the ordering stations. I knew exactly what I wanted and raced through the touch-screen menu.
Thirty seconds later I had an order slip for a six inch turkey sub with all the trimmings, an order of cheese sticks, and a medium frozen strawberry lemonade smoothie. I left Bette and Darla in the dust and headed for the registers to pay. There I hit traffic of the human variety: a line long enough to stretch to the doors.
The girls fell in behind me about thirty seconds later.
Drat…
We got through line without adding too much more to our orders… okay, I got a Milky Way and some gum. After the chocolate dress, who could blame me?
We swung around the corner to grab our hopefully not cold already bags of greasy, deliciousness and came right up behind a tall, dark, broad shouldered hunk-a-hunk of burning manhood standing at the pick-up counter.
I stopped to eye up the long lean, jean clad legs, and a wondrously firm butt. But then I noticed he had some tattoos on his arm… familiar tattoos…
Raphael Morales turned around with a frozen drink in his hand.
Oh crap!
He smiled down at me evilly, as if he knew exactly what I’d been doing and the lusty thoughts that had been going through my mind.
I looked down at the drink in his hand. Large, swirled with pink and orange and white, and topped off with whipped cream and… and sprinkles!
“Sprinkles?” I chided, and then fell into a slow belly laugh. Behind me Bette and Darla started to snicker and giggle along with me.
Raphael scowled, his dark eyes turning stormy. “It’s Birthday Cake.”
I couldn’t stop laughing long enough to say anything else.
Raphael’s broad shoulders tensed, as did his beautifully muscled arms, and he stalked on around us as we erupted into even louder peals of laughter.
It was just too damn funny.
That was until my gaze followed him out the front doors and to his shiny red sports car—a Barracuda… and one of his sisters sitting in the passenger seat. Stiffly he handed her the drink, which she immediately started to suck down.
He turned and glared at me, and I shrugged my shoulders.
O
ops.
I turned back to the girls. They had already grabbed our bags of goodies and we headed out the doors to park our rumps at one of the little round metal tables with matching metal umbrellas over them. We made it outside just in time to wave goodbye to Raphael and his sister, and then to burst into even more laughter when Raphael shook his head and gunned his shiny sports car out of the parking lot.
Now that was worth all the trouble this day had wrought.
Then something occurred to me. What if I couldn’t find a date for the party?
After “Sprinkles” it might be kind of hard to get him to do anything for me.
And what about more zucchini bread? Or the banana nut bread he was baking for tomorrow?
Drat, drat, double drat.
###
Bette and Darla insisted we take a detour and make a quick stop at the Yanni-Fell Mall, right off the Route 88 expressway. They said I needed some nylons and sexy panties (I said I had plenty of panties, and they crooned in chorus, “Yeah, we saw!”) and some “natural looking cosmetics.
Since Bette’s last foray into “making me up” I wasn’t at all gung ho at the prospect. But Darla had said she’d apply the makeup. I wasn’t sure she even knew how to use make up. The teenaged beauty queen never wore any… didn’t need any.
The mall was packed; all those who didn’t want to melt from the heat were out at the mall. I didn’t care if my central air didn’t work, I’d rather be at home. We went in the west entrance, by the movie theater. It was the least packed parking lot, seeing as matinees weren’t all that popular on a weekday.
Bette and Darla took off at a manic pace—I guess the thrill of so many shopping potentials gave them a boost of adrenaline. Me, I barely kept up. Thank god Victoria’s Secret was so close to that entrance, or I might’ve pulled something keeping up.
I’d never been in a Victoria’s Secret store before. I didn’t know what I had expected, but what I got was this: perfume and body washes displayed in front, on the back walls, on the counters, in the front windows, on the registers, and hanging from the sales racks. Oh, and there were flimsy little silk and velvet and lace doohickeys suspended from tiny little plastic hangers on those sales racks.
I blinked a few times before I realized it was all lingerie. Every stinking bit off it was sexy barely-there teddies, barely there undies, almost nonexistent bras, and itty-bitty lace garter belts and… even less there thongs…
Oh, and toward the back were some super short silk and lace robes that didn’t really cover anything up. But I guess if you were going to put on a little show for whoever it was you were buying the miniscule outfit for, you’d want some kind of opening act.
Lord almighty, I was so never going to buy any of this stuff. I was ready to die from embarrassment just standing there.
“Hope!” Bette called out over the racks of lace doilies. She waved a hand at me to catch up. They were back by one of the checkout counters. I gulped and looked around. The place was teeming with shoppers… and not all of them were women. There were about a half dozen red faced men angling uncomfortably through the racks of stripper wear.
I moved stiffly through the crowd to the back where Bette and Darla stood staring down at what was in the glass countered case.
“There are a lot of men in here,” I whispered to Bette.
“Yeah, they’re a bunch of dopes,” Bette chortled.
Darla giggled.
“What do you mean?” I said.
She looked up and around at the scattered men. “These men don’t get it. You don’t buy a woman lingerie as a present. You let a woman buy her own.”
“Yep,” Darla intoned. “When a guy buys you something slutty to wear, it’s a present for him, not you.”
Oh-h-h-h…
I turned and looked down at what was in the glass case… and blinked.
Okay, granted I’m not the most sexually daring woman on the planet, or the most worldly of shoppers, but I just didn’t get it. There were some almost there panties (that vibrated, or so it said on the box); a pink something or other that looked like it had rabbit ears (that guaranteed a woman’s pleasure); and some “self heating” lubricants (to enhance your lovemaking).
I felt the blood flood to my face.
“What do ya say,” Bette said, nudging me with an elbow. “Maybe you would be a little more relaxed if you got yourself one of those?”
“What?” I croaked.
“Yeah, yeah,” Darla said helpfully. “That massager can turn any frown upside down—if you know what I mean.”
“And,” Bette added, “in case you just want to lie there and be uninvolved,” she cleared her throat suggestively, “uou can just slip on the vibrating panties, turn the remote to orgasm and enjoy.”
Oh. My. Freaking. God.
“I need to leave now,” I said, trying to take in a breath, but failing.
I was past embarrassed, I was mortified!
“Okay, okay… this isn’t your thing.” Bette took me by the shoulders and steered me over toward perfumes and body washes. “Let’s start small and work our way up.”
We found a fragrance that smelled like berries and chocolate—which made me hungry again, and a light strawberry scent that made me even hungrier.
From there we moved on to garter belts and stockings, and I nixed that right away. I could deal with pantyhose, but garters and clips and such were just too much for me to fathom. Bette and Darla conceded my point, since they wouldn’t be there to help me if I had a wardrobe malfunction at the party.
From there we meandered into the bras and panties. I didn’t need a bra, but they both insisted I get “a real one” while we were here. I had plenty of real bras. I just didn’t have anything that lifted and separated, and was only made up of flimsy, see-through lace.
I ended up getting one baby powder blue lace bra, a black satin number, and an exotic looking red and orange print job.
I balked when they breezed right past the almost not there panties and went straight for the thongs.
“I am not wearing one of those!” I said, planting my feet and crossing my arms under my breasts.
The girls exchanged a look and shrugged in unison.
I was starting annoyed by them sharing one brain. Obviously they were twins separated at birth by… oh, about fifteen years.
They backtracked to the almost not there panties and tried to get me to wear something far more revealing than I’d ever be caught dead in. I finally met them part way, with some French cut, black silk panties with some lace decoration.
I put my foot down when they tried to add in some more risqué variations to the shopping cart—if you could call a hand held basket the size of a lunch box a shopping cart.
I checked out and my eyes bugged when I saw the total.
“A hundred and ninety-seven dollars!” I said, my jaw practically falling off my face.
“I know,” Darla said beside me. “We hit one hell of a nice sale.”
Sale?!?!
I gritted my teeth and handed the sales girl my credit card. The underwear had been more than the dress and shoes combined. But at least they were new, I guess…
On the up side, I was buying all this for a work related gathering, I could deduct it all from my taxes.
We stopped for some Cinnabon cinnabuns and mocha milkshakes when Bette and Darla tugged me into a Spencers. Now, I’d been into one of these stores, so they didn’t get the charge out of me that they’d gotten at Victoria’s Secret. So they went off and browsed while I stayed over by the novelty mug counter. I loved novelty mugs.
That reminded me that Raphael had only perfectly matching white coffee mugs in his cupboards.
I had to get him something with a little personality.
And besides, with the sleeve of tattoos on his arm, it was strange that he had such boring dinner wear.
I surveyed the glut of product they had; all kinds of cute, mugs with naughty sayings, endless cartoon logos and characters—I picke
d up a Hello Kitty mug I didn’t have and considered getting a second one for Raphael; and of course kittens and puppy dogs abounded. I thought about getting him some of those too.
But then I saw the absolutely most perfect novelty mug ever created. And it was perfect for him!
I picked it up just as the girls made their way over to me, arms laden with their items.
I held up the mug, their eyes went wide, and we all broke out in raucous laughter.
“Oh my god,” Darla wheezed between laughs. “He’s going to have a cow!”
Bette winked at me approvingly. “You can be so mean.”
I turned and headed to the sales counter to make my purchase.
###
I opened the door and exited the party. The room was small and unpopulated, and there was a roaring fire in the fireplace, and one of those lovely fainting couches that no one actually has in their homes. The room was lit with only a smattering of flickering candles.
I dragged myself over to the couch and gently lowered myself onto it. The chocolate silk dress had been a hit, but the shoes were killing my feet. I leaned back and to the side and raised my legs up on the couch, so my feet dangled over the edge.
Closing my eyes I sighed as the pressure on my poor, tortured feet let up.
“May I help you take those off, ma’am?” Brad Pitt said, his voice rough and husky.
Oh, this was a dream? A Brad dream.
I sighed as he took hold of my ankle and started to pull my left shoe off. I hadn’t had a Brad Pitt dream in weeks. I was glad he was back.
Maybe I’d get a naked foot massage?
I licked my lips as I felt Brad’s rough hand slide up my leg and expertly snap the clips connecting my silk stockings to my garter belt. God, he knew how to do everything.
His hands rolled down my stocking, his fingertips sliding down my thigh, over my knee, and then down my calf.
I opened my eyes as he pressed his thumbs into the now naked arch of my foot, and the ball of my foot into the smooth, warm hairless flesh and muscle of his chest.
I jumped in surprise: Jake knelt at my feet, shirtless, gorgeous, his delicious bare skin glowing in the candlelight. He stared up into my eyes and licked those pouty, thick lips of his.
Love Him: A Love Him, Hate Him, Want Him Novel Page 19