“I don’t hear you denying it, Gee.”
I pop my shoulders. “Why would I deny something that’s true?”
A cackling giggle escapes my best friend, drawing a couple of looks from the other women milling about the lingerie shop.
Only when my cheeks ache from grinning so wide and my stomach is beginning to cramp with laughter pains, does Rosie clap her hands together. Her own smile is stretched as wide as my own, her lower lash mascara slightly smudged from tears.
“We’ve got to be serious now.” She blows out a breath, dislodging the wispy strands of her fringe. “My date with Tom is tomorrow. I need to find something new to wear to blow his mind and make myself feel good while I’m wearing it too.”
“Now, that’s what I like to hear,” a husky voice sounds behind me. “We can’t let it all be about the men without having a little fun of our own.”
I turn to find a pretty, brunette smiling at Rosie and I. It’s obvious, even at first glance, that she works in the lingerie shop. Dressed in a white cable knit dress, hair scraped back into a fashionable low bun with a pair of small gold hoop earrings, it’s the lanyard draped from her neck and the nametag pinned to her chest, which separates her from staff rather than just a regular shopper.
“I’m Aurelia,” she continues. “Would you like any help shopping today?”
“Oh my god, yes please,” Rosie gushes, introducing the two of us.
“Brilliant! I’ll set up a changing room for you both, pick a few bits out, and we can go from there. Does that sound okay?”
I’ve got to hand it to Aurelia; she’s good at her job. Too fucking good.
Once she’s taken both Rosie’s and I’s dress sizes, she ushers us both into side-by-side changing rooms and promises she won’t be long. I sip my complimentary glass of champagne while I wait, the bubbles flying up my nose, listening to the rustle of Rosie next door as she strips to her underwear.
Kicking off my own shoes, I sit on the velvet stool in the corner of the changing stall – although,stalldoesn’t quite cut it seeing as it’s practically the same size as my bathroom back at my flat – and check my phone.
Hudson: these skill sheets are driving me mad :/
Hudson: what are you doing? Xx
I huff a laugh to myself, picturing him hunched over filling out those damned skill sheets. Rather him than me.
Me: I’m just out shopping with Ro x
A red heart appears beneath my message, followed by a notification from my online banking app.
Mr H Millen has deposited £120 into your account.
Note: Treat yourself to something nice – Hudson x
Jamming the pad of my thumb into my call log, I press my phone to my ear, only having to wait for two rings before he picks up.
“Did you get the money?”
I squeeze my legs together instinctively at the gravelly sound of Hudson’s voice. It’s become as familiar to me as the voices of my parents, friends and dance clients. A thought which never fails to make me feel giddy, the butterflies in my stomach causing a riot.
“Hudson,” I sigh. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know I didn’t, I wanted too.” I close my eyes and picture him shrugging those broad muscular shoulders of his; the ones I like to rest my feet on when he’s going down on me. “There’s a difference, Gee.”
I sink my teeth into my lower lip. “But—”
“Can’t I treat my girl while I’m away? Hm?”
Is it possible to be turned on by the way someone talks? The sound of their voice?
“Giselle? You still there?”
I hum, desperately trying to ignore the empty way my core pulses.
