“It’s okay, Lucas. Mr. Blaine. Are you sure you’re okay?” He stopped and gave me a tight smile that didn’t reach those gorgeous eyes.
“It’s nothing, I promise. I’ll get over it.”
“I hope so, because I’m not sure my desk can take any more.” I was very fond of my desk. It had been a present from Dad when I got promoted and I planned on taking it with me, even if I changed offices.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and then he left as if he was running away from something, and I was left wondering what the hell that was all about.
9
“I thought you would need this,” Sloane said, handing me a glass of wine when I stumbled in the door that night. I hadn’t been that tired after work since I’d pulled a few all-nighters a month ago.
“You’re my favorite,” I said, and gulped the wine. Ah, sweet elixir.
“I also took the liberty of ordering takeout,” she said, holding out her arm like a bimbo from a game show presenting a brand new stove as she gestured to the bags and boxes on the counter.
I collapsed on the couch and downed the rest of the wine.
“I didn’t know sexual tension would make me so tired. I mean, it’s not like we were ready to rip each other’s clothes off in a fit of lust, but it definitely wasn’t easy.” Watching his mouth as he talked, remembering what it could do on my body . . .
“You’re such a liar. You totally were ready to rip each other’s clothes off in a fit of lust. I bet you eye f**ked each other all day. I know I would. He’s not really my type, but damn. I’d be on my back on the desk for him.” I gave her a look and went to stuff my face with takeout, which included pizza, a tortellini salad from my favorite Italian place, chow mein and baklava. Our tastes were eclectic.
“You’re being so nice to me lately,” I said when I sat down on the couch again with a full plate.
“I’m just buttering you up to ask you a favor.”
“It must be a big one. What do you want?”
She took a big bite of chow mein and chewed it before she answered.
“I need your body.” Ah, that was what I figured. Sloane had all sorts of mannequins and models for her clothes, but sometimes she wanted to try them on a real person. I was usually her guinea pig, but she normally just started putting the stuff on me without asking.
“Okay, why the big production. You know I never say no.”
“Well . . . here’s the thing. I’m working on a new line. Of undergarments, but ones for real women.” She wouldn’t look at me.
“So you’re saying you need me for my ass.” I guess I should have been offended, but I had no delusions about my body or the size of it.
“Not just your ass. I need your tits as well,” she said, smiling. I set my food on the coffee table and stood up in a huff.
“You only want me for my body. I thought I meant more to you than that!” I pretended to cry and Sloane got up and hugged me.
“I love your sexy mind, but I really only need your bod. Please?”
I sighed like it was the hardest thing in the world, but turned around.
“Fine. But you’d better buy me some flowers afterward and call me the next day.”
She clapped her hands and I knew that the food would have to wait. Fashion waited for no man. Or woman, in this case.
“What is that?” I said, pointing to the mess of black lace and red ribbons that was laid out on Sloane’s cutting table.
“That is the first piece I’ve been working on. See, here’s the thing. I was thinking that I’m good at the clothes part, right? But what about what’s under them? What if I could sell someone an entire outfit, down to the undergarments? Why wouldn’t I? Plus, the lingerie market is huge and it requires a lot less material, in theory, and it gives me a chance to be a little naughty. So. Here it is!” She picked it up and I saw that it was basically a bra with panties attached by crisscrossing red ribbons, with little bows on the ends where they meet the bra and panties. It’s more of an outfit than a set of underwear.
“How the hell do I get into it?” It looked impossible. Like half the moves in the Kama Sutra, or going to Coach without buying something.
“You’re such a drama queen. Here, you can snap the ribbon part off. So it’s like a little extra. You can wear the bra and panties without it.” She showed me how to get the ribbon part off, leaving just the bra and panties, which were cute on their own.
“You’re going to make me try it on now, aren’t you?”
“Yup,” Sloane said, shoving me toward my bedroom. I would also be expected to model as well, and I hoped the panties would be big enough to cover everything they need to cover. Good thing I got waxed on a regular basis.
I stripped down and slid on the panties first. Success! I almost did a little victory dance in front of the mirror. The bra was also my exact size, with no spillage. I got myself situated and then snapped on the ribbon parts and checked myself out.
Wow. It actually looked good. Sexy. Like my body was a nice little present to unwrap. I turned and it looked good from the back too. Not bad, not bad. I bent over and stood up and twisted side to side. It was actually pretty comfortable. Not as binding as I’d thought it would be.
There was a frantic knock at the door.
“How does it look?” I rolled my eyes and opened the door and Sloane dragged me out. I stood still as she stepped back, came forward and adjusted, and walked around me like I was a mannequin. I was used to this. If I moved she’d get mad, so I stayed as still as I could until she finished her inspection.
“What do you think? Does it fit well? Do you feel comfortable in it?” I shrugged my shoulders and twisted again and met Sloane’s worried eyes.
“I love it. I feel totally sexy.”
“Fabulous!” Her smile was a mile wide and she clapped her hands. “You look smoking hot, by the way. Like, if I swung the other way, I would have made my move already. All you need are those red heels and you’re in business.”
The red shoes would be awesome with this.
“Okay, I’m going to put my clothes on now, because I’m hungry and it’s a little cold in here.”
Sloane gave me the thumbs up and I heard her going to the kitchen and putting things in the microwave as I went back to my bedroom.
Once I was dressed again, we finished our dinner and continued our Sandra Bullock marathon. Sloane was twitchy and I could sense that she wanted to ask for something else when she made me a cup of tea and brought it over.