He said, “Teisha, thank you for everything.”
She flushed red and nodded mutely.
So, it was true.
And if it was true, how was I going to get his silver fox face between my own legs? I was more than ready for it. As I browsed the clothing racks with Mrs. Hubert, picking out green garments that complemented her pale skin, I was burning up with fever for something belonging to a man, be it juicy c**k or wet tongue.
She grabbed a gauzey red dress and said, “How about this?”
Mr. Hubert was already sitting on a chair nearby, looking at something on his phone. The way he held the phone made me think he was using it to take photos of me. I posed at a saucy angle for his lens, sicking out my butt and chest.
“Not sure if that's your best color,” I said to Mrs. Hubert. She seemed like a nice enough lady, and I was being paid for my help, so I figured I ought to be honest. “A few shades lighter and you'd be good, but that burgundy will wash you out.”
She frowned at the dress. “It would look great on you.” She thrust the dress at my chest. “You try it on!”
I surreptitiously took a glance at the price tag. It was twice what I'd be getting paid for today's private shopping session. No. No way. “I'm not here for me,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “You're not marrying the dress. Just try it on while I'm trying on my things. I'm going to be in the changing room for a long time.” She glanced over at Mr. Hubert and gave me a sly smile. “Besides, you need some excuse to go into the change rooms.”
Was she pimping me out to her husband? She was, I knew it. My little passionflower lit up inside my panties. I thought having him look at me was hot, but having her push us together was even more delicious. My lady cave started to ache. If my pu**y had a voice, it would have been whimpering, begging for some juicy loving.
“Sure,” I said, accepting the red dress, which was just my size. The fabric was incredible, so soft and strong, like the skin of a certain organ.
Another pair of sales clerks fluttered around us, finding more suits and tops for Mrs. Hubert to try on, and soon, we were being whisked back to the changing rooms, at the back of the store.
Rich people really know how to live! And shop!
The changing room entrance was like a luxury suite compared to the places I shopped at. The entry had comfortable sofas for the gentlemen, and the actual changing rooms were spacious and completely outfitted with mirrors, as well as a tall bench. Usually change rooms have those awkward low benches you feel like you're squatting on when you sit down, but this bench was pure elegance. I hung the one red dress on a hanger inside my room, then went to check on Mrs. Hubert, making sure her needs were being met.
“I like to try on everything twice,” she said, removing her jacket as I stood inside the small room with her.
“You're going to do great, you have a rockin' body,” I said, and I wasn't lying. She had a tiny little waist, and really nice br**sts. They looked like they cost a fortune.
She glanced down. “I should have stuck to the B-cups. These puppies are hard to fit into designer lines.”
“You are one hot lady,” I said.
“So are you.”
I wanted to ask her something, but I wasn't sure what. Mind if I get off on your husband? No. I couldn't ask.
As though she could read my mind, she said, “Lexie, can you do me a favor?”
She unbuttoned her shirt and I wondered, with a tiny note of terror, if she wanted me to do stuff to her!
I gulped, hard. She was a really hot lady, and if I was going to indulge my bisexual curiosity, I supposed doing it with her would be as good as anyone. “Anything,” I said, almost meaning it.
“I like to take my time trying on clothes.” She slipped off her blouse and started to unfasten her gorgeous slacks. “Can you keep Mr. Hubert entertained?”
I gave her a sidelong look. “What do you mean … exactly?”
“Entertain him. He's allowed to have as much fun as he wants, but he's not permitted to touch the flesh of another woman with his cock.”
“What about the balls?”
She smiled. “Sure, you can play with his balls. Like I said, I like to take my time, and I don't need help shopping so much as I need a hand … husband-sitting.”
Just then, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to see the fair-skinned girl from the makeup counter, the redhead, standing behind me.
I backed out of the change room and the redhead took my place.
Ahh, so that was how it was.
I looked around the large chamber for Mr. Hubert, but he was nowhere to be found. I felt a twinge of disappointment and annoyance. He'd already gone off and found Teisha, I figured. He was probably under the counter, eating her juicy peach right that moment.
I sighed heavily and wondered what the billionaire I'd seen the day before, Mr. Thorne, was up to.
Damnit, but I needed some cheering up. I went into my changing room, determined to put on that red dress, and if it looked good, I was going to buy it for myself. To hell with my bills and my plans for starting a business. I needed to start treating myself right.
There was someone in my changing room.
I startled and held my hand to my mouth, my heart pounding.
Mr. Hubert, the silver fox, was inside the change room, sitting on the tall bench. He loosened his tie and said, “Does kitty want to play?”
My heart was still pounding, but I didn't feel it in my neck and chest anymore. All my blood flow diverted to my pu**y, which began to throb.
I clicked the changing room door closed behind me. We were alone together, in private. Well, sorta in private. People were milling around on the other side of the door, coming and going.
I said, quietly, “What did you have in mind? Wanna help me try on this dress?”
He grinned. “That's what I'm here for.” He grabbed me by the waistband of my cheap, navy-blue skirt and pulled me close to him. His legs were parted and I stood within the space between his legs. He still smelled strongly of the cologne he'd been doused with, and it was intoxicating, like two glasses of wine straight to my head.
My legs shook from nervousness as he gently undid all the pearl buttons down the front of my blouse.
His hands were smooth, his fingers long.
When my blouse was undone, he ran his hands below the edge of my bra, stroking my sides and then running a finger up and down my center, pausing to play briefly around my navel.
“You like to take your time,” I said, thinking of what Mrs. Hubert had also said.
He leaned forward and ran his tongue up along my stomach as an answer.