First

by M. A. Grant

  In and out in less than twenty minutes and diligently ignoring Maya’s seven missed phone calls, I continue on to my final destination. It’s a little sketchy. The building’s not old or anything, but the blacked out windows and bare bones sign declaring the store’s wares aren’t exactly high quality either.

  I delay the inevitable by reading over my list a few more times. When I notice I’ve been sitting in the car for fifteen minutes like a creeper, I have to accept it’s now or never.

  The door chimes when I walk in. The lady behind the counter is younger, fairly pretty except for the mask of make-up she’s hiding under, and gives me a world-weary, ‘Welcome to Bangz Adult Boutique. Let me know if I can help you with anything.’

  Her tone indicates she hopes I will not ask for her assistance and I must admit it’s not high on my list of things to do either. ‘Thanks,’ I reply as I get a basket. ‘I’m just looking.’

  Again, that bored acknowledgement. I move past her and examine the selection of products in front of me. This doesn’t look too bad. There are racks of lingerie. I wander, trying to figure out if there’s anything I should try on.

  What kind of lingerie does Dally like?

  The question makes me pause. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk about a girl’s underwear before. Like … ever. Even during the summer when we hit the beach and girls are running around in swimsuits that make butt floss look classy.

  I examine a teddy, surprised to see that there’s nothing to cover the breasts. They’d hang out there like they’re waiting to be milked. Do guys actually like that? I don’t see the point. It would be easier to go naked. At another rack I find some fairly modest bra and underwear sets. They’re classy, with soft, muted colours and a little bit of lace and ribbon.

  I pick out my size and head toward the dressing room. On the way I find a smooth black teddy. This one actually covers the breasts—well, sort of since it’s see-through mesh—but has a V-cut that goes all the way down, stopping just short of the pubic bone. Would Dally like that one? I grab one in case and go into one of the empty stalls.

  My lingerie pick is exactly what I expected: cute. The teddy surprises me; it’s a good fit and looks pretty sexy. But I don’t feel like either one is a perfect match. I wish I could just ask Dally what he wants, but every article I read said lingerie is supposed to be a surprise. Maybe it’s not meant to be.

  I give up on those two and wander the rest of the selection. There are some beautiful fabrics, some lovely cuts, but nothing that calls to me. A sex therapist’s column comes to mind: if you don’t feel sexy, you won’t look sexy.

  There must be a site that gives advice on what kind of lingerie looks best on different body types. I dig out my phone and am surprised to see Dally’s called twelve times. A bit of overkill for my low-key messages. He picks up the first ring and I’m shocked by the frantic edge in his voice.

  ‘Cat? Thank God! I was going crazy—’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask as I inspect a pair of crotchless panties. They’re kind of pretty … except for the slit that extends way past the necessary access point. I quickly move on.

  ‘Where are you? I’ve been calling you for almost an hour!’

  ‘I’m shopping. And you still haven’t said what’s wrong.’

  His sigh is shaky. My concern grows. ‘Is Jake—?’

  ‘Your brother’s fine. I just got off work.’

  I check the time. ‘Isn’t that kind of late?’

  ‘I had to stick around because one of the guys just got here. There was a bad pile-up near the school. I didn’t know—’

  The knot in my stomach eases. ‘I’m fine, Dally,’ I say softly. ‘I promise I’m nowhere near there.’

  ‘Fuck …’ I silently listen to him breathe. Eventually he asks, ‘Where are you, brown eyes?’

  ‘Umm …’

  ‘Umm isn’t a place.’

  ‘I’m shopping … You know, for our big night.’

  I’ve always liked Dally’s laugh, but hearing it this time is even better. There’s an undercurrent there, a shared joke, one no one else listening would understand. As overwhelmed as I may feel in this store, Dally’s reaction makes it worth it.

  ‘You don’t have to go out and buy anything special, Cat.’

  ‘Have you been reading tons of magazine articles to figure out exactly what’s needed?’

  ‘Hell no. But the concept’s not that difficult. Plenty of lubricant. Part A goes in Slot B.’

  ‘You know how much I love when you go all dirty mechanic on me,’ I quip as I wander past the lingerie toward the second half of the store.

  The satin masks of the near aisle beckon. I admire them. They look more like sleep masks than something that would be related to sex. I keep moving down the aisle, shock rising when the masks turn into leather straps. And then some really strange masks. And some spiky things looking like they belong in a medieval torture chamber. And … What the devil is that?

  I inspect the strange item, but there’s no tag and I’m sure as hell not asking the saleswoman for help. ‘Dally, if I send you a picture of something, could you tell me what it’s for?’

  He sighs. ‘If you don’t know what it’s for, you definitely shouldn’t be getting it. There are some weird types of lube out there …’

  I ignore the rest of his lecture, letting him ramble on as I take a pic and send it to him.

  He gets it a moment later because he grumbles, ‘Hang on.’

  His bark of laughter is loud enough I have to hold the phone from my ear. I wait until it subsides and ask, ‘What is it?’

  ‘Did you actually go to a fucking adult store? Put that back on the shelf.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Trust me, you want to put it back.’

  I do as he orders, still a little confused.

  ‘Did you do it?’

  ‘Yeah. Now will you tell me what it’s for?’ There are some others on the same shelf, different sizes and colours. I look more closely at them, wondering what I’m missing.

  ‘It’s a ball gag.’

  I rear back from the display. ‘Gag? Like, to put in your mouth?’

  He’s snorting from trying to contain his laughter at my horror. I clutch at my phone, cheeks burning, as I back away from the ball gags. ‘There’s sex that requires you to gag people? That can’t be healthy!’

  ‘Cat, seriously, which store are you at? I’m leaving right now to get you.’

  I give him directions and hang up. A slick, rubberised mask is hanging from a peg. But I don’t see any eye holes. Or mouth holes. Or nose holes? Holy shit, what kind of aisle is this?

  I escape by turning the corner, only to find myself face to face with the prominent sign Anal Play. I grimace and swerve to a different aisle and go slack jawed. I am surrounded, quite literally, by what must be hundreds of penises. Or, strange plastic things shaped vaguely like penises.

  My brilliant plan of being strong and mature and brave has completely fallen apart. So astounded I don’t think I’ll recover, I start to sit in the aisle. At this point I notice it’s carpet, wrinkle my nose, and clear myself a tiny space on the bottom shelf.

  Dally calls me about ten minutes later. ‘I’m here, brown eyes. I’m guessing you decided to play plucky explorer and wandered past the lingerie.’

  ‘I’m trapped.’

  The amusement in his voice doesn’t help. ‘Trapped how?’

  I glance at the plastic-encased penis nearest my head. ‘The realistic G-Spotter is six inches of paradise and has the manly heft of the real thing. Do you have any idea how long six inches really is, Dally? It’s almost the same length as a water bottle. How does that even fit? I mean, there are some here that are even longer.’

  I squint at a huge package further down the aisle. ‘Twelve inches? You’ve got to be kidding me!’

  I unfold myself from my shelf and creep closer to examine it. ‘It’s based on a real person? Holy nightstick, that’s impossible. Dally, you aren’t tha
t big, right? I think you might kill me if you are—’

  ‘Oh, babe.’

  Still crouching, I turn and peer up in the direction of that low drawl. Dally’s standing at the end of the aisle, muscular, tatted arms crossed over his chest, a ridiculously wide grin on his face. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt more foolish than at this moment.

  Then he says with a snigger, ‘Did you find the precious?’

  Oh yes, it’s possible.

  He strides over to me, extending his hand. I take it and let him pull me up to a standing position. He doesn’t let me go immediately, taking a second to look me over.

  ‘Hi,’ I smile, but the seriousness doesn’t leave his eyes.

  I know he’s still stuck on that concern about the car accident, flashing back to the last accident that rocked my family. I reach down and pick up my shopping basket with my free hand, resting it in the crook of my elbow. ‘Want to help me find some fun things?’

  That gets him to relax. ‘What could you possibly need?’

  I hold up a finger and dig around in my purse for the list I’ve compiled. I pull it out and hand it to him. ‘These were the things that different magazines and websites suggested.’

  As Dally’s reading, his eyebrows are rising higher and higher. I’m about to cite my sources when, to my dismay, he crumples the list in one hand. My mouth falls open and I stare at him. He shakes his head. ‘No.’

  I take a breath, but he shakes his head again. ‘Just … no.’

  He tugs on my hand and leads me from the aisle.

  ‘But they all said that those—’

  ‘You don’t need any of that shit.’

  Okay, I might get a little mulish. He glances over his shoulder when I dig my feet in and stop. ‘Dally, everything I read told me—’

  ‘Brown eyes, as a real man who has had lots of sex, let me tell you a few simple facts. One, good sex is good sex, regardless of the accessories.’ He steps closer. ‘Two, a real gentleman will make sure he’s prepared for the evening. Which means he’s considered his pleasure and yours.’

  He’s nearly pressed against me, smelling of California sunshine and GoJo citrus soap and some kind of spice that’s him and him alone. His lips curve up as he finishes, ‘And three, you’re having sex with me. I promise the only thing I care about is seeing you. Naked. Under me.’

  There’s no moisture left in my mouth; it’s all travelled south.

  He tugs again at my hand and I follow him complacently. We stop at a simple wall display. ‘This is all we need,’ he assures me. ‘Lube.’

  A small box gets tossed into the basket.

  ‘Condoms.’

  Two packages. I read the label. ‘Extra-large, huh?’

  He winks at me, looking smug as hell.

  I look at the meagre supplies he’s chosen. ‘That’s it?’

  He reaches out and takes the basket from me. ‘That’s it.’

  ‘But …’

  When no smart-ass remarks come and he tilts his head at me, I sigh.

  ‘Cat, communication is kind of important with this thing. I need to know what’s going on in that head of yours,’ he says gently.

  I look at my shoes, feeling the weight of my naivety. ‘I’ve never been in a place like this,’ I mumble. ‘And …’

  ‘And?’

  I crook my finger and he leans in closer. ‘Is sex usually as scary as all of this makes it seem?’ I whisper to him, so humiliated to have to ask.

  He wraps an arm around me and pulls me to him. It’s a natural movement, one we’ve done for years, and I settle against the line of his body without hesitation. But, unlike every other time, he lowers his face so we’re curved into each other.

  ‘No, babe.’ His arm tightens around my waist. ‘And I won’t let your big night be scary either.’

  I nod against his chest, fears drifting away. Dally never breaks his word.

  ***

  I let Cat wander the store, answering whatever questions I can. She’s nervous and skittish, but as we explore, she starts to calm down. Part of me is surprised she decided to come here on her own; the other part of me takes it as par for course.

  We’re almost back to the front when she glances at the lingerie and raises an eyebrow. I’ve done laundry with her for years. I know the type of underwear she has. And after folding pair after pair of those cotton panties, I find the idea of stripping them off her a whole hell of a lot hotter than any of the shit that’s hanging on the racks.

  I shake my head, smiling a little, and she looks away from the racks. Her eyes alight on a small, fairly tasteful display and I follow her over.

  ‘Honey dust,’ she reads. She picks up the canister, absently twirling the tiny feather duster as she skims the back label. ‘Dally—?’

  The mixture of tempered excitement and nervousness on her face does me in. She could ask for nipple clamps and I wouldn’t be able to say no. ‘Want to try it?’

  She bites her lower lip and looks back down at the canister. The saleswoman at the counter eyes us with clear curiosity bordering on rudeness. When I first walked in, she gave me a slow once over. At least being on the phone with Cat kept her from pouncing.

  Cat looks torn. I can read her well, but this is different. She’s trying to prove herself to me and I hate feeling like I’ve brought on this lack of confidence by agreeing to this scheme. ‘Buy it,’ I urge. ‘It’ll be new for me too.’

  Her face lights up and she clutches her prize as we head toward the counter. I set down the basket and pull out my wallet. Cat starts to protest, but I give her a look and she clams up.

  The woman finishes ringing up my purchases as Cat eagerly sets her honey dust down and waits to ring out. Genuine anger flares in me when the woman takes in Cat out the corner of her eye and gets a little smirk on her face. Cat—an optimist who’s friendly with all strangers—doesn’t even notice the shift. But I do.

  I can only guess at the thoughts running through the woman’s head. But they are definitely patronising towards my girl. I can’t let that stand.

  I snag Cat’s honey dust and slide it toward the register. ‘This too.’ I glance back at Cat. ‘Can’t wait to try it out, babe.’

  A dark part of me smiles when the woman blinks and deflates a bit. She adds it to the bag, which I hand to Cat, and gives me the total. I get back my change, let her keep the receipt, and escort Cat outside.

  ‘I could have gotten it,’ Cat says, peering into the black bag as we walk toward her car and my bike.

  ‘I know.’

  She unlocks her door and puts my purchases and her purse on the passenger seat. But she doesn’t get in yet. ‘Thanks for coming. That was definitely a different experience than I’d been led to believe.’

  ‘Sure thing, brown eyes. Anytime I can rescue you from attack of the sex toys, just let me know.’

  ‘You’re a good guy, Dally.’

  I shrug, awkward at her praise. How can she possibly believe that? Especially since I agreed to help her lose it?

  She fiddles with her keys.

  I’m backing toward my bike, wondering why she’s still standing there. ‘Meet you at home?’

  She looks up at me. ‘Why did you call me twelve times?’

  ‘I hadn’t heard from you and was worried.’

  ‘But why were you worried?’

  My heart’s twisting on itself as I stare at her. Could she really not know? After all this time? All these years? I couldn’t have been that good at hiding my feelings from her, even if I’ve tried to not let her figure out how deep they go …

  My voice is rough when I answer. ‘I like you, Cat—’

  She makes a face. ‘If you finish that sentence with as a sister, I will kick you in the balls.’

  ‘I would let you.’

  She tilts her head. ‘So how were you going to finish that sentence?’

  ‘That was it.’

  Those brown eyes narrow, fix on me. ‘I like you, Cat. That was all?’

  ‘Yep.
’

  She shakes her head, but when she looks up she’s smiling at me. It’s a little softer than normal. ‘I like you too, Dally.’

  I should not get turned on by those words.

  She’s getting into her car. When I don’t move, she rolls down her window and calls, ‘Let’s go home.’

  Right, home. For a few more days at least.

  Day 3 — Evening

  When Cat and I finally get back to the house, my brain isn’t as fried from our store trip. She’s focused as I help her take in some groceries. ‘What is all of this?’ I ask, peering into the bags.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Just unpack them in the kitchen, would you?’ she asks, scurrying off to her bedroom, black bag in tow.

  What the hell? Lobster tails, some fancy lettuce, and random jars with shit I don’t even recognise. I step back from the counter, examining the goods. The picture slowly comes into focus. ‘You planning something, brown eyes?’

  No response.

  ‘Cat?’

  I hear her coming back and turn. How I keep my jaw from hitting the floor is a mystery. She hurries into the room, a flush rising in her cheeks, peach-coloured dress fluttering from her movement. She must not have had time to put on shoes because her feet are bare. Her hair is pulled up again, a few strands pulling loose from how quickly she rushed it.

  I’m going to punch through my jeans.

  She pulls out a few things from the fridge and finally looks at me. Her smile is shy and she does a little up-down movement on the balls of her feet in her nervousness. ‘I figured we could have a nice dinner.’

  ‘Awfully fancy dinner,’ I croak, mouth strangely dry.

  ‘Consider it a thank you then.’

  I feel like I should change. Shower. Somehow show her I’m willing to take her gesture seriously. ‘Do you need me to help or can I clean up really fast?’

  She waves me away. ‘Go clean up.’

  I’m in and out of the shower before I can question my motives. My clothes are dumped in the laundry room. I’m a little surprised a load is going in the dryer. Fuck it. I have bigger problems. Finding something to wear shouldn’t be this hard. Cat never wears dresses for a night in. She’s definitely never worn one for me. I throw on a clean pair of jeans and, with only minor apprehension, a button down shirt.