Heart-shaped decals. Chocolate boxes. Diamond rings. Smiling, cuddly couples and laughing women.
The Intimate Closette had blown-up pictures of anonymous half-naked models in soft lighting with fancy script that asked, "Can you keep a secret?"
Yeah.A lot of people had them. Especially if they had six-packs and private DM's.
I dragged my thumb over the edge of my phone in my jacket pocket. I’d hate to run into Mr. Zeezy while passing Armando and Ritch. Maybe Theo quit. After all, Bigfoot could probably bankroll him.
I checked social media for an update. He’d posted a few songs he was listening to in his stories. They were mostly breakup ballads about giving your best to someone who didn’t appreciate it.Jerk.He didn’t give me respect, which was kind of a basic requirement in relationships. The lack of self-awareness only cemented my decision in not taking him back. Two years from now, he still wouldn’t be ready for marriage. He was too immature. Too selfish.
Thatwas the kind of guy I currently attracted. I had to fix that. For my brand and my heart. I deserved a real shot at love, whether it was from an audience, a casting call, or a partner. Even if that meant taking up with a fake one for a bit.
I texted Zack.
Part of me wanted to send a kissy face emoji, but I wasn’t sure we were there yet.
While waiting for a response, I wandered the ‘Closette’ aisles, which were basically branching bits of memory lane. Theo had never held back his opinion on which outfits would suit me best. It helped me navigate what someone like him or even a clientwould want in me, I guessed. Buthewasn’t my audience for my big brand revamp. What did the everyday eighteen to thirty-six year-old want?
I eyed the G-strings tangled in sales bins and the cotton with lace trim panties spread out on tables. Not a bad selection. The heart-patterned balconette bra and undies set would be a bestseller for the holiday. But what face and body sold them? A mannequin gave me nothing, but online, the model had a sly smile and a perky butt. It had to be photoshopped. Whose ass had perfect heart-shaped proportions like that? Part of me wanted to grab a screenshot and send it to a friend for a laugh, but I didn’t want them to think I was body shaming anyone.
In some ways, I kinda missed talking to my ex every day: being catty about bad customers, showing each other fashions, and hyping up social media trends to maximize our confidence. That’d been fun. Now, I had…
My phone rang.Zack.
I swiped to answer. “Hi. You do realize that most people from our generation prefer to text?”
“This is faster. What’s up?”
I picked up a thong. “Nothing much. I’m just playing with some underwear, waiting for my escort.”
“What?” he asked sharply, a thud sounding in the background. Did he run into a doorway?
“I’m at The Intimate Closette,” I said, stifling a laugh.
He grunted. “Can we meet literally anywhere else?”
So much for non-toxic masculinity. The guy couldn’t handle the presence of ladies’ underwear? “There’s a health store across from it,” I said.
“I’ll be there in ten.” He hung up without further fanfare.
How had that same blunt guy made friends with the whole warehouse? He barely knew how to have a normal conversation.
I could only imagine the awkwardness if I showed up to our meeting with a bag from The Closette. He’d probably turn bright red and tug his earlobes, looking anywhere but my face so he didn’t visualize me in whatever I’d gotten. Not that he pictured me like that. He was too classy for fantasies. At least the saucy ones. My New Year’s Eve romper had probably only caught his attention because it was shiny. Plus, I’d been shivering and throwing lemons while wearing it.
I sighed and abandoned the land of silk and lace for the shop peddling protein shakes across the way.
The location was good marketing for both stores. People looking at the intimate ads would be motivated to look better naked. They’d want sexy underwear and ‘health’ supplements.
I eyed the plain white banner in front of some vitamins as a familiar strong gait clomped toward me.
Meet your New Year’s resolution goals with Nutrivixxx!
I chuckled and shook my head. The three x’s made it seem like they were trying to sell something sexy. I checked the nutritional label on the back. “Five thousand percent of your daily intake of iron. Is this what you need to feed your beefcake physique?”
“Beefcake?” Zack leaned over, his chest warm against my back. “That much iron could be lethal for kids.”
