An older gentleman sits a few feet away checking his watch. He's your typical Wall Street investor who wears way too much grey. From the silver hairs peeking out on the side of his head, he looks to be in his mid-forties. I spot a wedding band on his left hand. He must be waiting on his wife. On cue, a tall brunette struts out of the fitting room. She's gorgeous and definitely not in her mid-forties. She’s gorgeous in the baby doll negligee she’s wearing. The pink crème color compliments her long chestnut brown hair. The older gentleman watches with fascination as she prances outside the fitting room. She turns, giving herself a once over.
"C'est parfait," she says smiling.
Carol walks over with a glass of champagne in her hand. "Five bucks says she's not his wife." We watch in awe as the stunning brunette walks over to her companion and whispers seductively in his ear. I only catch a few words but I don't need to hear the rest to know the meaning of what she's said. She runs back to the fitting room to change as her companion walks to the front of the store and pays. After a few minutes, the two exit arm in arm down the street. I catch a glimpse of her hand as she caresses his shoulder –but there's no ring.
Carol smiles. “Told you."
Lola pokes her head out. "Your fitting room is ready."
"Go get em, tiger."
I'm alone in the fitting room and yet it feels like I'm on stage getting ready for the next Victoria’s Secret fashion runway. My heart is pounding in erratic beats. I don't do sexy. I do comfy. My idea of lingerie is my tank top and my boy shorts, end of story.
"I'm waiting!" Carol calls. I’m starting to think the glass of champagne is getting to her.
I scan the wide selection that Lola hand-picked herself. The majority of it is a little too risqué for my taste. I finally settle on a gold baby doll top. It shimmers like glitter under the fitting room lights. It's sexy, yet classy. I hold it up under my chin. The soft satin feels wonderful against me. It definitely makes my green eyes pop. I'm not the type to stare at my reflection all day, but I have to admit it looks great against the color of my hair. A bustier catches my eye amid the flurry of lingerie. It's a beautiful nude color with lace that runs up the sides. A matching pair of boy-cut underwear and stockings is attached with it. I press it against me. It's definitely not something I would usually wear, yet I can't help but wonder how it would look on me.
Carol pops her head through the fitting room curtain. "Rebecca, would you just pick something already?" she says, giggling.
"Look, it was your idea to bring me down here. Now you have to suffer,” I say, covering my goods.
"C’mon, Becca, I bet you look hot in any of these.” I give Carol a get-out-already look and she quickly leaves and closes the curtain behind her.
It’s not every day I get to shop for expensive lingerie. Mine usually don’t cost more than my monthly rent. Then again, it’s not like I’m actually going to buy any of this. I can’t afford any of it. I slip on the nude boy shorts and stockings along with the bustier, and with some luck I find a pair of garters among the lingerie to complete the piece.
I’m amazed at the transformation. The person standing before me is unrecognizable. It's like I'm naked, except all the wobbly bits and pieces are covered.
"Carol, I think you're going to be happy with this one. Carol?" I peek my head out of the fitting room curtain. Carol is nowhere in sight. Where the hell did she run off to?
My eyes scan the room and stop dead as Nicholas StoneHaven makes his way into Demure. Holy shit. My heart sinks as Lola walks over to Nicholas. Lola’s question repeats over and over in my head. “Are you a friend of Mr. StoneHaven?” Crap. Damn it, Carol. Lola greets him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. He must come here often to be so personable with a salesgirl. She ushers him toward the fitting rooms and in my direction. Double shit. I slip back inside the dressing room. I'm going to kill Carol. A second later I hear Carol walking up.
"Hello, Ms. Livingston, it’s nice to see you." I cringe at the sound of Nicholas's voice. Why is he here? I thought he wasn’t in the office today?
"Hello…Rebecca is here,” she blurts. Gosh, she must be tipsy. Usually Carol’s a lot better at keeping her cool. A third voice joins the conversation.
"Ah, there you are." It's Lola. She must be referring to Carol. "Is Mr. StoneHaven's friend still in the fitting room?" I’m screwed. I hurry, grabbing my clothes and shoes off the floor. I unbuckle the garters from my stockings and pull everything off.
Carol clears her throat, "Oh no, I think she left."
“Didn’t you just say Rebecca is here?” Nicholas asks, confused. I freeze. Oh. My. God. I'm busted.
"Oh, did I?"
"Excuse me, which friend?" Nicholas asks, directing his attention back at Lola.
I spot Lola's heels standing in front of my curtain. Before I can stop her, Lola pushes open the curtain and gasps. I jump back, covering myself.
"Oh my, I'm so sorry,” she says, embarrassed. “Your friend said you left."
My cheeks burn red as I spot Nicholas staring at me. A look of confusion and surprise covers his face. Even now, I can't help but notice how incredible he looks in his black pants and grey suede jacket.
"Sorry, Becca,” Carol squeaks.
I know I'm not naked, but with the nude bustier and matching underwear I might as well be. Carol looks back at me with guilt written all over her face. I panic as the slow realization hits Nicholas, a smirk creeps up his lips. I was the special "friend" that Lola had mentioned.
"Yes, Lola, this will do just fine,” he says.
I don’t think I’ve ever run out of a place so fast, but I left Demure in a hurry and quickly headed back to Carol’s apartment. I didn't wait for the mortifying conversation that was sure to follow my embarrassing debut, and no one bothered to stop me on my way out. Not even Carol. I just left her standing there with Nicholas.
By the time I reach home, it’s well past 6:00 PM. I’ve been aimlessly walking New York City for hours. Going back to the office wasn’t an option. I can’t see Nicholas right now. He’s the reason I left so fast. The way he was looking at me… It was like I was the juicy thanksgiving turkey waiting to be served to him. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to tell him to stop if he started kissing me. Not that he would kiss me in front of everyone, but I wanted him to.
My purse vibrates against the coffee table alerting me to a new text message from Carol. I don’t even know what Carol thinks at this point, but the last thing I saw was the look of shock on her face as I left.
Carol: Did u make it back to our place?
I wait a few minutes to answer. I should make her sweat. It’s partly her fault for getting me into this weird predicament, but it’s hard for me to me mad at her. She was just trying to help.
Me: Yes. I’m sorry I ran out on you.
Carol: OMG. I was so worried.
Me: Just got home.
I shouldn’t ask, but curiosity gets the best of me.
Me: Did he ask about me?
Carol: He did, but I didn’t say anything.
Me: Good.
Carol: I won’t be home until late. I have an emergency meeting with a client.
Me: K. See you later.
I toss my phone back into my purse and lie back on the couch. After flipping through the bazillion infomercials on TV, I finally settle on watching a movie. Instead of ordering out I decide to grab a bowl of cereal and plop down on the couch. They’re playing Sleepless in Seattle. It’s Friday night and I’m sure everyone is out partying, but I can’t imagine a better way to spend my night than being a couch potato.
A slight brush of fur glides against my leg as I switch on the television. I look down and spot two bright yellow eyes staring up at me. Sprinkles purrs as I scratch the side of his face. As I sit there watching one of my favorite romantic comedies, I start to feel a growing disappointment. Was Nicholas at work all along and just avoiding me? Or did he follow me? It seems way too convenient that he just happened to show up at Demure
.
Just thinking about him brings a familiar heat that stirs me in places I’d rather not have him affect me. I flush at the memory of his eyes trailing down my skin. They were meticulous in their study of my body. No one’s ever looked at me that way… My nipples harden at the memory. It’s been way too long since I’ve had sex with someone, and the last “someone” was Miles, my ex-boyfriend. The recollection of Nicholas’s hands on me the night of the charity event flashes through my mind. I shiver at the memory of the need in his voice when he asked me to kiss him. Although, it was totally embarrassing when he saw me standing in the fitting room half naked, it was like someone turned up the heat in the room.
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of my cellphone vibrating again. Fuck. I sit up, grabbing my phone in time to see the incoming call that reads: MOM. I take a moment to clear my throat. God, I hope my voice sounds normal, not breathless and horny.
"Hi, mom, I was just about to call you." Lie.
“Hi, honey, I was calling to see how your week’s going.”
“Great, it’s going great.” Minus today's incident. “How’s everything at home? How’s dad?” It feels like it’s been months since I’ve seen them. I miss my mother, even if she’s a little crazy.
“It's not the same without you." The sadness in her voice is palpable. “That’s actually why I called. I have some bad news.”
“What’s wrong? Is dad okay?”
“Your father is fine. Physically, at least. He lost his job this week.”
“What?” I ask, shocked. What the hell?
“His work laid off 100 of their employees. He was one of them.”
“Shit.”
“Rebecca, language please.”
“Sorry…how’s dad holding up?”
“You know your father. He’s a proud man, Rebecca. This has really taken a toll on him.” I can’t believe this is happening.
He’s worked for Baron Imports for over 20 years. He wanted to retire but my parents are still paying their mortgage. They have two more years. Dad was going to retire after that. They had plans to buy a motorhome and travel across the U.S. It’s like the new American dream.
“I think you should come back home,” mother says. She catches me off guard by her serious tone. Move back home? I’m just getting used to this city.
“What? No, are you kidding me?”
“We need you here.” My heart squeezes at the misery in her voice.
“Mom, you guys need my help. I need to stay out here and work. How are you going to pay the mortgage?”
“I’m not sure, sweetie.”
“I can send you money as soon as I get paid again.”
“Let’s not talk about that right now. Let’s talk about something happy. Have you met anyone nice out there?" She asks.
Nice? Nicholas's face flashes in my mind. "No, no one special." The thought of Nicholas meeting my parents turns my insides to mush. My mother’s curiosity concerning my love life has always been disturbing. I’m actually surprised she hasn’t called me to chat about Miles. I think she’s still in denial. Our breakup went public over the Internet. That’s the thing with dating movie stars. Your business becomes everyone else’s.
“A certain someone came by today.”
“A certain who?”
"Miles."
I freeze. Miles? As in my ex?
"He was asking about you. I told him you were off in New York being a big shot at a major publishing company." Thanks, mom. I’m sure he could smell the desperation in her voice when she told him that.
"What did he want?" I ask, annoyed. I really hope he isn’t planning on coming to see me. Just hearing his name makes my hand twitch. I start to feel murderous again.
“I'm not sure, sweetie, but he asked for your information." Well, so much for anonymity.
“Ugh. Mother, please tell me you didn’t give him my work address.”
She laughs. "No, of course not." Oh, thank God.
“But I did tell him you work on Sixth Avenue and I gave him your office number.”
Damn.
"You never told me why you two broke up." That’s a little too tricky to explain. I don’t think she would appreciate hearing how I found him balls deep in another woman.
“He's not a good guy, mom."
“Oh, sweetheart, is that why you left?"
The point is moot. We've been down this road before and it always ends in an argument. "Mother, I have an amazing opportunity here.”
"I just miss you,” she says softly. “Are you coming home for Christmas?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“What do you mean? You’ve never spent Christmas away from home.”
“Yeah, but my boss will probably need me.”
“He works you too hard.”
Try telling him that. We say our goodbyes and I promise her that I’ll try my best to be home for Christmas. The conversation leaves me feelings slightly torn. Hearing my mom mention Miles is like ripping old scabs off. They might look healed, but the memories come rushing back and everything feels fresh again. I set the alarm on my phone for work and slip into bed underneath the warm covers.
I don’t remember driving back to the office or taking the time to hang my coat and tie, but somehow I’ve managed to undress myself and pour a glass of scotch. When the woman at Demure mentioned red hair, I knew it couldn’t be anyone but Rebecca, but I had to see for myself. I rescheduled with Emily and promised to take her out to lunch another time. In a way, I’m glad she didn’t come because it would’ve been a very awkward way to meet my assistant for the first time. Although Emily has been to the office a couple of times, she hasn’t had the chance to meet Rebecca.
I toss the glass back as thoughts of her flood my mind. I shiver at the memory of Rebecca’s bare skin and the soft curves of her body hidden only by small pieces of lace. Watching her in the fitting room left me floored. How am I supposed to forget that? Her hips will forever be engrained into my mind.
I feel like a fucking animal. I’ll fuck her until she begs me to stop and then I’ll fuck that smart little mouth of hers. I want to be the reason for the blush against her freckled skin. I’ve never been so aroused by the mere sight of freckles. They taunt me, as if daring me to kiss each one. I ache to know the feeling of her pussy clenching around me. It’s an all-consuming need. And I know I won’t get my release until I’ve buried myself between those gorgeous legs. Maybe then I can get her out of my mind. Maybe then I can let her go.
I’m not exactly sure what the hell Rebecca was doing with my account. She ran out of Demure so fast I didn’t even have a chance to stop her. When I spoke with the woman who called about my account, she didn’t know the name of the female shopper who was using my account. The only thing she did know was that she was a redhead. That’s all I needed to hear to pique my curiosity. I’ve never actually dated or fucked a redhead and there’s only one redhead I know – Rebecca.
Her friend Carol wasn’t very informative when I asked her about the incident, and Lola kept apologizing profusely. She even refused to charge my account when I offered to buy the lingerie Rebecca was wearing. She said it was complimentary. Demure doesn’t give out complimentary items. They don’t need to. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to know about Rebecca’s little shopping spree. Testing boundaries seems to be the name of the game with her.
The bag from Demure is still sitting on top of my bed. I pour another glass of whiskey, hoping to drown my thoughts of her, but I know it’s useless. The whiskey only seems to intensify my need to see her. I smile, picturing her spreading her lips apart for me. My cock grows harder at the thought of her running her lips along me.
I think it’s time to teach her a lesson. Perhaps, the lingerie won’t be such a waste. Rebecca wanted it, right?
This is going to be one hell of a long weekend.
The crisp morning and the sound of coffee brewing down the hall wake me from my sleep. I’m drawn from my bed by the smell of haz
elnut. As much as I want to stay curled up between the sheets with a good book, I can’t. Wait, yes, I can. It’s Saturday. Relief washes over me as I realize that yesterday was the beginning to my weekend. I won’t have to deal with Nicholas until Monday.
The sound of a text message beeping on my phone cuts through my thoughts as I head toward the living room. I search for it in my purse and finally find it hidden beneath my wallet. There’s a text message, but it’s from an unknown number.
580-3000: We need to talk.
I squint, confused at the message. The timestamp reads 1:00 a.m. Who the hell was texting me so late at night?
Me: Who the hell is this?
The response is almost instantaneous.
580-3000: Your boss.
Shit. He can’t fire me through text, right? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he has my number, considering my staff file is basically at his disposal, but I am a little surprised that he would text me at one in the morning. I close my phone and toss it back on top of my purse. I’m not dealing with him right now. I want to enjoy the only peace and quiet I have before I have to deal with this disaster waiting to happen.
My purse begins to vibrate. This time someone’s calling me. I look over and see his number flashing at the top of the screen. I’m tempted to pick up the phone, but I’m not exactly sure what I can say to make the situation better, and I’m too afraid to know what he wants to tell me.
I spot a note from Carol clipped to the fridge. She must’ve left it here when she left this morning.
Becca,
I’m sorry about yesterday. I hope today isn’t too rough –unless you want it to be. Haha. By the way, the rest of your clothes are back from the dry cleaners. Let’s go somewhere fun this weekend. I’ll be back around 2:00 pm.
Bound to You: Volume 2 Page 6
