by Noelle Mack
Sofia found her handbag. “Okay, I can remember all that. Thanks, Nicky. See ya, Ruthie.” She grabbed the handles of the full-to-bursting bags and Nick got up to help her get them to her car in the rain.
A few minutes later he came back in, drenched to the skin. He pulled off his sweatshirt and tossed it to one side, then shook the water out of his hair.
“Can’t wait to see the Post headlines tomorrow,” Ruth said. “My hero.”
“Damn right.”
“What are we going to do now? I’m ready for a nap. Rainy days always make me sleepy.”
He stood over her and pulled her to her feet. “It’s starting to thunder. That means we can make some noise.”
“About time.” She reached down into his jeans and found what she’d been missing. “While I’m holding this,” she said, “tell me again what you said when I walked up to you.”
“Are you wearing your lucky panties?”
Ruth shook her head and held his cock tighter. “As a matter of fact, I am, but that wasn’t it.”
“You mean when I said I loved you?”
“Yeah. Say it again.”
He eased out of her grip and swept her up in his arms. “I love you. Do you love me?”
“I think I do.”
He kissed her nose. “Then let’s get naked.”
Unzipped
1
Pam heard the sliding door of the delivery van bang open and went to the window to see if it was him. Yup. Those were his shoulders. And his dark brown hair. Even from three stories up, Kev Donnell looked good. He wore his usual uniform of delivery company shirt and summertime shorts, scuffed suede lace-ups, and thick socks that bunched around his ankles. The muscle in those legs just didn’t quit. Pam watched him swing down from the driver’s side and feed the parking meter, then stride around to the back of the van, unlatching the clasp.
He came around again with a white cardboard box in his arms that was almost as long as he was tall, carrying it lightly. The mystery package that he said was for her when he’d called five minutes ago. Long-stemmed roses?
Interesting. Maybe she had a secret admirer. Ha ha.
She tried to lift the window a little higher so she could call to him but it was stuck shut. Humidity. Everything swelled in June.
Kev took the stairs two at a time and disappeared into the vestibule of her apartment building. Pam buzzed him through the downstairs door before he pressed her button, knowing he’d come all the way up without waiting for an OK. Working at home meant you got to know your delivery guy.
Her accounting business was doing all right. Her clients, creative types and minor celebrities who had not one clue about how to manage their money even though they were making plenty of it, let her figure out their seriously screwed-up finances and quarterly taxes. Rather than maintain an office, she had them send in their paperwork in bulk: bank statements, usually marked up with baffled questions about why one check or another had bounced, endless credit card bills that testified to an over-the-top social life, and mountains of crumpled receipts that bore the circular imprints of wineglasses and coffee cups.
None of which arrived in pristine white boxes. Not what Kev was bringing up. She went to the door when she heard him thunder up the last flight of stairs and opened it before he knocked.
“Hiya, Pam. Package for you, as promised.” He held it out, holding it at either end with strong, long-fingered hands, but she didn’t take it, only looked at the shipping label.
“From Stacks, huh?” She knew the name from one of her clients, who liked to give his girlfriend ultra-expensive, super-sexy evening gowns, which she, a temperamental Russian model, liked to rip up, just to show him who was boss. “That’s a dress company. I didn’t order a dress.” She hitched up her baggy gray sweatpants.
Kev winked. “Bet you’d look good in one.”
“Aw, shucks. Bet you say that to all the slobs.”
“Only the beautiful slobs like you.”
“Thanks a lot,” Pam said. She cast a glance into the hallway mirror by the apartment door, just in case there was a grain of truth in his friendly compliment. No surprises there: blond hair with thick bangs that needed trimming. Round eyes, bluish. Full lips, glossed, but otherwise no makeup. Pretty good boobs and small waist, concealed under a beige sweatshirt with a peeling logo that said Can We Get Our Hands On Your Bottom Line?
A relic of her brilliant career at Cooper & Freundlich, accountants to the stars. Playing switcheroo games with their celebrity clients’ millions got Ernie Cooper five in a federal playpen. Lou Freundlich got off a little easier with an ankle bracelet and sixteen months of house arrest.
Kudos for the uninvolved: Pam Kendricks got a pat on the head from the judge who praised her honesty.
“I’m being honest,” Kev said nonchalantly. “Hey, I’ve been delivering here for over a year. We’re friends, right?”
“Sure are,” Pam said. Had it been that long since Cooper & Freundlich had gone under and she’d struck out on her own? “Which is why you’ve never seen me in anything but sweats. Take me as I am.”
Kev looked her up and down with an amiable leer. “I like to be comfortable myself.”
Pam glanced down at his mostly bare legs. Amen to that. And how good it felt to be looked up and down in sweatpants that didn’t do anything to advertise her curves. She could count on Kev to cheer her up.
“At least you get to run around all day,” she pointed out as she walked with him into the kitchen. “I get to sit and do taxes for crazy people.”
He slid the long box onto her kitchen table, bumping a big wooden bowl that usually held bananas, occupied at the moment by a comatose cat.
“Sorry, Frisky.”
“His name is Lump. For obvious reasons.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” He scratched lightly between the cat’s ears. The Lump raised his head and gave a huge, tongue-curling yawn, then went back to kitty dreamland.
“So c’mon,” Kev said. “Open the box. Your name’s on it.”
Pam shook her head. “Is this your way of living vicariously?”
“Yeah, I get curious. And you don’t ever get anything but padded mailers filled with tax stuff, so I’m even more curious.”
“But I didn’t order anything from Stacks. There has to be a mistake.”
“Maybe it’s a surprise, Pam,” he said patiently. “Could be a gift. Is it your birthday?”
Birthdays. Pam loathed birthdays. Annual reminders of the march of time and the downward pull of gravity. She didn’t celebrate hers and no one outside of her immediate family knew when her birthday was. And it was weeks away. Anyway, no one in her family would send her something from Stacks.
“No,” she said finally. “But I’ll open the box if it’ll make you happy. You’ll probably have to take it back, though.”
He took a delivery-guy thingy off his belt and scanned the bar code on the shipping label with it. “No problem.”
Pam stuck a fingernail into the thin tape that sealed the box and ran it lengthwise. “Wouldn’t want to use a box cutter. Don’t have one anyway, come to think of it.”
The top flaps separated and she could see tissue paper underneath, folded neatly over a red something and adorned with a gold Stacks label.
Kev stuck the thingy back onto his belt and looked inside the box, interested.
“Drum roll, please,” she intoned. He obliged, beating the table on the side. The cat, startled into offended life, uncurled himself from the banana bowl, and jumped off the table onto the floor with a thud, waving his tail.
Pam lifted a big piece of the tissue paper, crumpled it into a ball and tossed it on the floor in front of her cat. Lump ignored her attempt to placate him and stalked off.
She parted the rest, revealing a voluptuous heap of what appeared to be shirred red velvet.
“Wow,” said Kev. “Nicer than I thought.”
Pam stopped what she was doing and looked at him. “You haven’t seen it yet. D
id you know what was in here?”
He held up his hands. “I confess. There was a Stacks catalog with it. I compared the product code on the shipping label and so—yeah, I did know.”
Pam touched the velvet without removing the dress. “I’ve seen that catalog. It’s so unreal. Like Neiman Marcus. For people who can drop $10,000 on an impulse buy. You know, gem-encrusted pet dishes and stuff like that.”
Her cat sauntered back into the kitchen with a now-you’re-talking look on his face. He jumped up on the table again and stuck a paw into the box, patting the velvet.
“Quit it, Lumpkin,” Pam said, shooing him away. “This is not your new nest. I won’t be able to return this thing if you get cat hair all over it.” She felt inside the tissue for a gift card or an invoice. Nothing.
“Hold it up,” Kev said eagerly. “Let’s see what it looks like.”
Pam only shrugged. “Not as if I’m going to wear it.” But she reached into the box, found the straps, and lifted it out of the enfolding tissue. She held it against herself, striking a glamor-puss pose. Kev’s eyes lit up.
“Wow. Fantastic. You have to try it on. Red has got to be a great color on you.”
“Think so? Mostly I wear boring old beige.” She looked down, taking in the details of the dress. Spaghetti straps. A fitted, very lowcut bodice carefully designed to give boobs a lift without the wearer needing a bra. Subtle shirring down the front seam and bias-cut side panels that flared over the hips without clinging. It really was a movie star’s dress, like nothing Pam had ever seen. She didn’t want to let go of it.
“You know, I think you’re right about the red. To hell with beige. My sofa is beige. My life is beige.”
“You need some excitement,” was all he said. His voice was lower and kinda rough around the edges.
Still holding it against her body, she walked over to the hallway mirror and inspected herself, blowing her bangs out of her eyes with an upward puff. She caught Kev looking at her pouted lips and smiled at him.
“You said it all, Kev. Wow is right.”
He kept his distance but his gaze was riveted to her, almost as if she were really wearing it.
Pam turned this way and that, marveling silently at how alive the dress seemed and feeling a flash of chagrin at how shabby her sweats looked. She didn’t have to wear them every day—they were just there in the morning, easy to pull on without a second thought. Undemanding. Able to accommodate a few extra pounds without her even knowing she’d gained a little weight.
She looked in the mirror once more. And she looked at the man standing behind her. Keeping his hands on his hips made Kev’s shoulders look larger and his waist leaner. His wide-apart stance was totally male and his long, strong legs were well worth a sneaky look down. Not to mention what was between them.
“Okay,” Pam said offhandedly. “I’ll try it on. Labels and all. Prepare to be dazzled, humble deliveryman. Have a seat.”
Kev nodded, and pulled a chair out with a hasty scrape against the floor. He sat down and leaned back against the table, gently scratching Lump’s head again. The cat got into it, rubbing its whiskery cheeks against his fingers for an added-value petting experience. “Ready for the show, pal? I am. Even if she did call me a humble deliveryman.”
Pam laughed and headed down the hall to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She hung the dress on a high hook and stripped quickly, kicking the ugly beige and gray sweats and the balled-up socks she’d had on into a corner. Her practical white briefs joined the pile next.
Naked, fluffing her pubic curls, she looked at the dress one last time. Then she took it off the hook, positioned it over her head and let it slide down her body. Just putting it on was erotic. It fit like a…body glove. And speaking of, wouldn’t it be nice if she had a pair of long gloves to accessorize it with. Diamond earrings, too. Mink eyelashes. And a gigolo on each arm.
She stepped up onto the edge of the bathtub to see more of herself in the mirror over the sink. Wow wow wow. What it did for her boobs and her butt was nothing short of amazing.
Pam stepped down carefully, inspecting her face critically. A little eye pencil wouldn’t hurt. Just a dab of powder blush—but only a dab. The red velvet made her fair skin glow. When she got done with the makeup, she grabbed a brush and did a major fluff on the hair. Good to go. Then she scrabbled in a little basket of cosmetics that she hadn’t used in way too long, finding a lipstick in an identical shade of red to the dress.
Pam uncapped the tube, parted her lips and put it on with precision. The result was overwhelmingly sensual. She blew herself a kiss, gave her bangs a final fluff with the brush, and opened the bathroom door.
“Don’t be shy,” Kev called.
“It doesn’t fit,” she called back, smiling to herself. Might as well play him.
“Awww.” He sounded utterly disappointed.
Barefoot, Pam walked down the hall. Under the flared sides, her thighs brushed together in a way that was sensually stimulating. And the dress cupped her ass almost like…a man’s hands. She thought of Kev’s strong hands holding the box and the eager look on his face when he’d asked her to open it. Pam took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen.
Kev almost fell off his chair. He rocked back, righted himself, and stood up. “You look—so beautiful.”
“Think so?” Pam asked innocently. She strolled around the kitchen, flipping the skirt with one hand and running the other through her hair. That lifted her bosom even higher, and Kev looked hungrily at her breasts.
“Yeah. I do.”
“So…” she breathed. “How much time do you have left on the meter?”
“What?” Kev just gaped at her.
Pam threw him a flirty look designed to melt delivery-dude belts. Maybe it was the magic of the dazzling dress, maybe it was the months she’d gone without a date, maybe it was Kevin’s friendly but totally male vibe and all that healthy energy he radiated…but she had suddenly decided to seduce him.
No second-guessing herself. No filling out Glamour quizzes on whether he was Mr. Right or just Mr. Right Now. No calling a girlfriend and discussing it in advance. Her inner vixen was in charge, and inner vixens did not think twice, especially when she was pretty sure there were condoms in the nightstand drawer.
He could always go and get some if not.
Kev was just so fucking cute. The sudden admiration that glowed in his brown, dark-lashed eyes was enough to turn her on, big time, but it wasn’t as if she had never noticed how gorgeous Kev Donnell was. She had just been too busy to do anything about it, what with getting a home-based business off to a solid start and donning baggy sweats every damn day to work nonstop.
But opening that white box with a flick of her fingernail changed everything. She still had no idea where it had come from or who had sent it to her by mistake, but she didn’t care. If a magic dress got dropped on your doorstep, you couldn’t say no. Pam ran her hands over her velvety hips. “I said, is there time on the meter?” She ran her hands up and lightly cupped her breasts. Kev clenched the back of the chair for support.
“Guh,” was all he said. “Go. I mean, I’ll go see.” He thrust a hand into his pocket, not taking his eyes off her as he rushed for the door, jingling the coins in it and, she suspected, forcing his erection down.
Pam nodded, giving him a glistening red, come-back-soon smile. Kev focused on that for a split second, stopped, then grinned in response. “I don’t believe this.”
Pam murmured a barely audible, “Believe it,” then picked up the cat and tickled him under the chin. Lump stretched out his neck, purring blissfully as she rubbed the sensitive spot with long strokes in one direction, completely focused on the animal’s pleasure. Kev took in the sight, then ran through the open door, not shutting it behind him.
“Guess what, Lumpkin,” she cooed. “I’m going to get laid. And you’re going to get locked in the living room. Is that okay with you?”
The uncomprehending cat seemed to agree. H
e was a fool for a good chin rub. Pam carried him down the hall to the living room, grateful for once that the rooms in her ancient apartment building had doors that opened into the halls, awkward as the arrangement was. She didn’t want Lump pouncing on Kev’s ass once he got naked and got on top of her.
Cooing to the cat, giving him one last head scratch, she set him down inside the living room and closed the door. Then she walked back to the kitchen, hearing Kev thunder up the stairs and almost colliding with him when he burst back in.
“Easy. Calm down,” she said, patting his chest. He was breathing hard.
“Fed the meter. So—this is for real, right? You want me to jump you—believe me, I want to—oh, Jesus, Pam. I thought you’d like the dress, but not this much.”
She looked at him wide-eyed. “You mean you bought it for me?”
“No.” Unable to resist touching her, he ran his hands over her shoulders and down her bare arms. “It’s a long story. Tell you later, okay?”
“Tell me now.”
His hands moved around her waist. “I just wanted to give you something. But I didn’t know if you’d like the dress.”
“I like the dress.” She put her arms around his neck, not quite believing what he was saying but loving his confusion and his arousal.
“You’re so sexy, Pam. Even in those goddamn sweats. Last few months, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“That’s sweet,” she said softly. Feeling wanton and womanly, she pressed her body ever so subtly against his, as if the dress had possessed her. Until she’d slid it on over her bare body, Pam did not do wanton things, did not think of herself as a temptress, and did not, as a rule, coo. Kev’s hands held her tighter, keeping her exactly where she was and not letting her get a millimeter closer.
“So, uh, anyway, I was talking to a sales associate at Stacks because I deliver there sometimes, and she happened to have the catalog at the page with the dress and I—”
