Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
I could just eat her up, she’s so fucking open and adorable. I can’t resist wrapping my arms around her waist, hugging her to me. “Come on, Mimi.” Spinning her in the direction of the dressing room, I slap her delectable arse, making her squeal. “Let’s go play dress-up.”
She slides me an arch look over her shoulder. “Putting clothes on?”
“The novelty feels like payment itself.”
“Well, this is kind of cute,” she says, pulling a sweater from a nearby rack. “It’s the same as the one hanging in the window. I noticed it when we—holy Moses! How much?”
“That’s not for consideration,” I say, taking it from her hands. “What about pants?”
“Whit, no!” She turns, her expression shocked.
“No pants? Works for me.”
“Be serious!”
“How can I be serious when we’re playing dress-up.” Reaching out, I grab the first thing my hand falls to. “I’d like to see you in this.”
“A jumpsuit?”
I examine the garment and resist saying I thought it was a pair of really long pants. “Don’t you like it?” I say instead.
“Well, it is cute.”
“Look, they have it in miniature, too.” I slide another hanger from the rack.
“That one’s a playsuit,” she informs me.
“Is it indeed? Doesn’t look like it’d be much fun to get into.”
“Or out of.”
Holding it out, I examine the thing. “I’d just use scissors.”
“Not in a public bathroom!”
“Is it, indeed,” she repeats with a less than patient expression. “You sound like you’re one hundred and three. All you need is a moustache to twirl.”
“How about I twirl you instead?” One hand still holding the hangers, I reach for Mimi’s hand. As I lift it, she twirls gracefully under it. “And an evening gown.”
“What? No!” She laughs as though that’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “I don’t need an evening gown.”
“Surely, every woman needs a posh frock.” I can’t believe the nonsense that’s coming out of my mouth. “Right…” I turn to, what was her name again? Ah, “Charlotte.” According to her name tag.
“Absolutely! You never know where one might be invited.”
“Well, this one has never been invited anywhere.”
“Give it up, Cinderella. Someone else needs the pumpkin.”
“What?”
I turn to Charlotte. It’s either that or laugh at Mimi’s expression. “Can you give us a few options?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Charlotte twirls away. All she’s missing is a wand, and she’d be a very posh Fairy Godmother.
“What has gotten into you?” Hand on her hips, Mimi eyes me warily. “I don’t need an evening dress. I just need something to schlep around in and maybe something to get me to work on Monday.”
“What if one of your upcoming dates invites you somewhere fancy?” I ask a little caustically. There’s no way she’s going to date anyone, not if I have my way, but the idea is like a scab I keep picking. She gives a tiny shake of her head as though she can’t believe what she’s hearing. Fair enough. I can’t believe it, either. Except when I add, “What if I want to take you somewhere special?”
“Like where?”
“That would be telling.” The event that springs to mind is the one that got me into trouble in the first place. It was after such a gathering that I’d found I was pleasuring—fingering?—the sister of my deceased best friend instead of the woman I’d anticipated.
“Yeah, and this,” she says, pointing at her still moving mouth, “would be asking.”
“I’m always getting invited to things. Galas and art shows, gallery openings, the opera.”
“Those are the kind of places you take a date,” she says carefully.
“You did say I could ask you out.”
“Are you asking me out?”
“Are you angling for me to ask you out?”
“Are you going to answer the question?” she says, fighting a smile.
“I’ve taken the liberty to hang a couple of gorgeous gowns in the dressing room,” Charlotte announces, oblivious to the charge bouncing between Mimi and me.
“Thank you.” Mimi turns her attention my way. “I’ll try them on, but that’s all I’m promising.”
“That’s fine.”
The rest I can work with.
25
MIMI
“Yes, that’s much better,” Charlotte decrees, fastening the last hook on the most beautiful evening gown I’ve ever seen. Black lace over a sheer under dress, the fabric clings to me like a second skin to my knees where it flares gently. It even has a train! It’s grown-up and sexy and, in truth, makes a person take a second look because it looks like I’m naked underneath. I’m not naked. I’m also not wearing my own underwear. “Infinitely better.” The corseting of this bra doesn’t interfere with the flow of the dress.”
Apparently, my own bra did. It was also an unsightly slash across the backless element. I said my imagination worked just fine, that I didn’t need to try the “correct” underwear. But because Charlotte is very thorough and likely working on commission, she insisted. She also brought matching panties with an obscene price tag considering the tiny amount of fabric, along with a pair of shoes with heels as high as a skyscraper.