by M. Leighton
I hear the chime of the front door and my pulse skips. That has to be them.
Loretta yips in excitement. “That must be them. You girls go on back,” he says, pointing to a curtained door. “There are two separate rooms you can use for fitting. Ms. Theopolis, you go left. Honey, you go right,” he says, speaking to Cami. “I’ll roll the whole cart back there when I show your guests to you.” His eyes are bright and sparkling. It’s easy to see that he really loves his job. And men. Hot, corn-fed men.
“Sounds good,” I say, grabbing Cami’s hand. “Come on, woman. We’ve got some torture to inflict.”
Before we disappear, I loud-whisper to Loretta before he’s out of ear shot. “Loretta! I get the red-head.”
He nods and gives me a wink. Cami and I are both smiling on our way through the curtain.
CHAPTER SIX- Rusty
I doubt many things would’ve surprised me more than the man in drag who greeted me and Trick at the door of the costume shop. I think my mouth was still hanging open when he pushed us to the rear of the store and through a curtain to where Jenna and Cami were waiting. Somewhere.
“I’m Loretta,” the guy says by way of introduction. “I’ll be your host for this afternoon’s display. Can I get you boys something to drink?”
Trick and I look at each other then back at him and shake our heads. “No, thanks.”
“All right then. You have a seat right here,” Loretta says, leading me to a comfortable-looking, bright red chair positioned in front of a private little cubby with a black velvet curtain covering the door. “And you come with me,” he says to Trick, disappearing around the corner. “Let’s get this show on the road,” I hear him say as they’re walking away.
I’m sitting in my chair, feeling like a dumbass, when I hear the crackle of speakers coming on line a couple of minutes later. Music pours out around me just before the ambient lights dim and a spot light pops on to illuminate the thick curtain.
I recognize the music. And the song. It’s called You Can Leave Your Hat On, and it has an old, burlesque feel to it. It sets a mood; I’m just not sure what for.
Until I see the curtain wiggle.
It parts just enough that I see a knee poke out. In time with the music, the leg straightens. It’s curvy and covered in fishnet stocking, with a garter halfway up the thigh. On the foot is an obscenely high, shiny black heel. The curtain parts farther and Jenna steps slowly out of the dressing room.
“Oh damn,” I breathe, suddenly warming to the idea of costumes. Jenna smiles and then, pausing, coyly bites her fingertip, looking up at me from beneath her lashes. “I seem to be having some trouble finding juuuust the right costume. I’m looking for…sexy. What do you think of this one?” she asks, her lips curved the slightest bit, just enough to be suggestive. I let my eyes slide over her outfit. She’s in a pink and black bustier that her tits are practically spilling out of and some frilly little panty-type things. And the fishnets. And that’s it.
“Does it fit okay?” she asks softly, letting her palms glide over the swell of her breasts. “It feels a little…tight.” Before I can answer, she slinks over to my chair and turns, peeking back over her shoulder at me. She wiggles her ass just enough to draw my eye. “How does it look from behind?”
I glance up at Jenna’s face. I see the playfulness in her eyes. And the heat. She’s toying with me, but she’s enjoying it, too. I’ve always loved that about her.
“The fit is good, but what about the material?” I ask, reaching out to touch her. Before my fingers meet her body, though, she straightens and starts to walk away.
She stops in the doorway of the dressing room, smiling back at me. “Let me try another one. Maybe something else will tickle your…fancy a little more.”
When the curtain closes, I lean my head back and close my eyes. It’s been a while since I’ve embarrassed myself in public. If this is the way the afternoon’s gonna go, maybe I should start thinking about baseball. Or Margaret Thatcher. Naked. On a cold day.
Before I can conjure one distracting thought, however, I hear the rings on the curtain jingle. Then, all I hear is the music. And the thud of my heartbeat in my ears.
I open my eyes to Jenna masked and dressed in a black leather cat suit with one sparkling silver zipper that goes from throat to crotch. She struts over to me this time, cracking a black leather riding crop over her palm.
She stops in front of the chair and raises one leg to set her stiletto-shod foot on the arm. With her legs spread, I watch as she drags the tail of the riding crop up one long thigh, stopping only when it grazes the V that makes my mouth water.
“How do you like this one?”
I look up at her face. I can see the glimmer in her eyes as she watches me from behind her black domino. She flicks the riding crop between her thighs. I see her lips part like she gasped, only I didn’t hear it. She might be doing this to torture me, but she’s enjoying the hell out of it, too.
I’m just about to take that crop from her hands and show her how I could use it on her when she turns on her heel and walks back the way she came. My eyes are glued to her ass. Blood pumps through my body with each exaggerated swing of her hips.
As I wait, try as I might, I can’t think of baseball or naked, old British women. I can only think of Jenna. And what she might be wearing next. And how much I wish I was in there while she changes.
When the curtain parts a third time, Jenna appears wearing a teeny tiny white dress with a red cross over the left breast. The top is split to the navel and, if she moved just right, I could probably see nipple. On her feet are red shoes. Around her neck is a red stethoscope.
She starts toward me again, but before she reaches me, she stops, dragging the stethoscope from around her neck. She lets it dangle from her fingertips for a few seconds before she drops it onto the floor behind her.
With wide, round eyes, she purses her lips and says, “Oops!” covering her mouth with her fingertips in a gesture Betty Boop would be proud of. Then, in slow motion, she pivots on her high red heel and bends at the waist to pick up her stethoscope.
As the short dress rises over her hips, I see the curve of her ass and the dark shadow between her legs. Damn her, she’s not wearing any panties!
I give absolutely no thought to where we are, or the fact that I’m supposed to be keeping my hands off her. I simply get up and go to her. Jenna affects me like that. She consumes me. Completely sometimes.
She yelps in surprise when I jerk her upright and whirl her around. I pull her up against my chest and raise my finger to her lips.
“Shhh,” I mutter, backing her up into the dressing room she just vacated.
Once inside, I pull the curtain shut behind us. With that song still playing, I reach around Jenna to feel for the zipper on her skimpy costume. Her breathing is heavy as it hits my lips. She’s panting.
I ease down the zipper and then pull the white material from her shoulders, peeling it down to her waist. She’s not wearing a bra underneath either; the outfit is cut too low for one. Gently, I palm one plump breast, rubbing my calloused hand over the nipple. Jenna’s mouth drops open and I remind her again, “Shhh.”
I tweak the pebble and smile when she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. I bend my head and suck one nipple into my mouth as I push her costume down over her hips. I let it fall down her legs to pool on the floor.
Jenna’s breathing is ragged as I kiss my way down her stomach. Cupping the back of her knee, I push back so that she leans into the corner for balance as I bring her foot up off the ground and prop it on my shoulder, opening her up for me.
I place one kiss on the inside of her thigh before I slide my mouth over to nuzzle the silky, wet flesh between her legs. I flick my tongue over her, just once, and I inhale. “God, I miss this.” I feel her shudder when I exhale warm, moist air on her. Slowly lowering her leg, I straighten to stand before her. “I miss you.”
Jenna’s eyes are heavy and her lips are trembling.
/> “But I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.”
“Still, I can’t have you, though, can I?” She watches me with her hazelnut eyes, but says nothing. I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing I am. “Let’s go home. Before I commit a felony in here.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” she replies softly.
“Oh no. When the time finally comes, I want you screaming my name. More than once.” With a grin I know will drive her nuts, I back out of the curtain, telling her just before I close it, “Just remember this when I see you tonight.”
I smile all the way out the door. The funny thing is, Trick’s already outside waiting on me.
CHAPTER SEVEN- Jenna
When we walk into Lucky’s, the only place Cami would agree to have this joint bachelor slash bachelorette venture, my eyes immediately scan the crowd for Rusty. I’m not sure what the female equivalent of blue balls is, or if there even is one, but if there is, I’ve got it!
Since walking out of the shop with the three of them and getting a chaste kiss on the cheek as Rusty opened the car door for me, I’ve been unable to think anything other than his lips on me. And how much I want them on me. Now.
I don’t see him at first, so Cami and I make our way to the cluster of tables that Daryl, the manager of Lucky’s, let us push together under the giant banner that reads CONGRATULATIONS, TRICK AND CAMI! Behind that, in front of the stage, is a curtain I borrowed from the local funeral home. They use it as a partition when the need arises. It’s super-sized, solid black and thick as hell, perfect for what I needed. It conceals the night’s two main attractions.
I grin when I take in the costumes of the members of the wedding party who have already arrived. I picked them out specifically so they’d match.
One of Cami’s bridesmaids is wearing a Playboy bunny get-up. Her husband is wearing a Hugh Hefner-style smoking jacket, a cravat and a grey wig. Another girl is wearing a nurse’s costume, one which gives me chills when I look at it because it reminds me of this afternoon. Her counterpart is wearing a surgeon’s outfit. There’s also a Pocahontas and Brave couple, a Marilyn and JFK couple, and a Fred and Ginger couple already here.
As Cami gives hugs all around, I turn again to look for Rusty. This time I spot him.
And he takes my breath away.
Rusty is gorgeous anyway, but his costume highlights his stellar body. He’s shirtless, with only a bandana wrapped around his throat and a cowboy hat on his head. From the waist down, he’s all long, muscular legs, tight jeans and dusty boots. I’m sure those are his, because I didn’t pick out boots to go with his costume.
He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I can look my fill. His broad shoulders are tan and muscular. His chest is wide and well-developed. And his stomach… God help me, I love that stomach! It’s trim and ripped, and there’s a thin trail of hair that leads from his navel to the most incredible…appendage.
I smile as I think about it. Rusty would probably have a stroke if he knew I was calling it an “appendage.”
Suddenly, he turns and his eyes meet mine. It’s almost as though he could feel my attention on him. He raises one dark brow, no doubt wondering what I’m grinning about. I smile even wider, knowing it will eat at him until he finds out.
I’m not surprised when he grabs his beer and walks toward me. He’s half way across the bar when he starts to slow down. It seems that he’s just now noticing what I’m wearing.
And I’d say he likes it very much.
I suck in my stomach and hold out my arms before settling my hands on my hips to let him look. His eyes roam me from my own black cowboy hat, down to my fringed, suede bra, to my bare stomach and on to my chaps, completely open all the way to my boots, but for the frilly little panties I’m wearing underneath.
His mouth drops open the tiniest bit and I feel my heart speed up. I have no doubt if we were alone, or even in a different venue, Rusty would take me by the hand, lead me to the first semi-private place he could find and bury his body in mine until we both lost the ability to think straight.
It’s what we do. It’s how we affect each other.
And it’s wonderful.
He resumes his walk to me. Cami passes in front of him and he watches her go, shaking his head at her outfit. She’s wearing a black leather dominatrix ensemble and Trick is wearing the matching submissive one. I watch her cross to Trick and I laugh out loud when he turns and sees her. His jaw goes slack and I’d be willing to bet he got a hard-on instantly. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if they use these costumes again. In private.
“So, what's the next surprise in Jenna’s World of Wedding Wonders?”
“You mean the costumes weren’t enough?” I ask. “Don’t you like mine?” I look up at him from beneath my lashes, purposely coy as I tease the fringe that hangs from my bra.
“I’d be happy to show you what I think of your costume. Later.”
“You would?”
“Mmm,” he purrs, leaning in to kiss my neck. Chills spread down my arms.
“Well, since I’m off limits, maybe the other things I’ve got lined up will take your mind off me. And all the things I’d like for you to do to me in this outfit.” I lean in to Rusty, my lips less than an inch from his and I whisper, “And out of it.”
“You’re evil. Did you know that? You’ll probably go to hell for doing this to me.”
I run my fingers up his bare chest, to his chin then I trace his bottom lip with my bright red fingernail. “Come burn with me.”
“You lead the way,” he growls hoarsely, like the heat between us has singed his vocal cords.
I plant my hand on his chest and push. I give him my sauciest grin. “Maybe later,” I say, taking a step back. “Or maybe not.”
Rusty’s breath hisses through his gritted teeth and I laugh outright. Who ever thought this would be so much fun? Torture, for sure. But fun anyway.
CHAPTER EIGHT- Rusty
I never thought it could be so hard to keep my hands off someone. Of course, I’ve never really tried. All I can say is that, when I finally get between those long legs of Jenna’s, there’s gonna be an explosion of epic proportions.
And it won’t just be me doing the exploding.
As I watch Jenna, I can see invitation in the way she moves. She might as well be shifting against me, close enough for me to touch her. The things she does with her hips and her hands, the way she bends over with that delicious ass of hers tipped perfectly in my direction—all of it is for me, like she can feel my eyes on her. Like she wants to feel my hands on her.
I know this because she keeps looking back, making sure I’m watching. Teasing me. I’d be willing to bet those ruffled little panties she’s wearing now include a wet spot. We’re engaged in the ultimate game of cat and mouse, and it’s keeping us both turned on.
I watch her as she backs toward the curtain that’s stretched across the back half of the room. I know there’s a stage back there, but there has to be something else. It’s a big space she’s got concealed!
“Seems like we’re missing something in here, doesn’t it?” Jenna asks, raising her voice so the rest of the party can hear her.
Shouts go up all around and she smiles, taking a handful of curtain and dragging it along the makeshift line that’s stretched across the room. Bit by bit, the edge of a thick black and red mattress is revealed. That’s all I can see because it’s so dark behind the curtain.
With a flourish, Jenna flings back the curtain. A single spot light flips on, shining down on a dull, black mechanical bull. The crowd goes nuts.
All I can think about is watching Jenna ride that thing.
“Holy shit, it’s gonna be a long night,” I mutter to myself.
Jenna is grinning from ear to ear. “All right, now that I’ve got your attention, who’s gonna be the first to ride the bull? We gotta get some use out of this thing before the operator gets bored and goes home,” she says, gesturing toward the clearly unenthusiastic plaid-clad ol
d man who’s sitting on a stool in the corner, leaning over a small console. He probably came with the mechanical bull. I think he might be asleep under the wide brim of his enormous hat. I can’t be sure. “Come on, ya bunch of pansies! Who’s gonna pony up and ride it first?”
There’s lots of shouting and whistling and general loud-mouthing, but no one steps forward. I can see several people trying to get Trick to go first, but he’s resisting, content to sit by his hot fiancée.
I hear Jenna’s name above the fray, called once, twice then multiple times. In a few seconds, everyone is chanting for her to give that bull a ride.
With an exasperated shake of her head, she turns toward the bull. “Fine. I’ll show you how it’s done. I just hate to make the rest of you look bad,” she teases with a cocky grin.
The old man, awake and alert after all, slides off his stool and hobbles over to Jenna to lend her a hand as she climbs up onto the bull. When she’s seated on its wide, leather back, I see her frown. “Something else is missing,” she muses loudly, pausing for a second before she shouts, “Music!”
The lights over the stage come on in a burst of color. Standing with their instruments, and one member sitting behind his drums, are the members of Saltwater Creek, the band I used to play in. I glance over at Trick. He’s howling happily, his arms raised into the air. He used to play with us, too. He looks at me and smiles. I know this probably makes his night that much better. I return his smile then look back to the stage.
“Something’s still missing,” Jenna yells. “Oh, I know what it is. We’re gonna need more bass.”
Heads start turning toward me and I finally look up at Jenna where she’s sitting atop the bull. She’s looking right at me, grinning. She tips her head toward the stage and I look back in that direction. Everyone in the band is watching me, smiling, and Sam, the bass guitar player, is taking the strap of his guitar off his shoulder. He walks to the front of the stage and holds it out to me.
