Of course, she’s early.
I hurriedly throw my dress on and head to the front door. Since she’s early, she is going to have to wait for me to finish up. I answer the door to her staring down, texting. She is wearing a draped fringe dress in her signature bright red. I’m convinced there no lining since I’m pretty sure I can see her nipples peeking out.
She brushes past me, saying, “Nice door,” as she bumps my shoulder.
I look at my door and frown, not understanding what she is talking about. It’s just a door. McHottie had also cast disparaging glances at it. Weird.
I turn around and follow her into my house. She puts her phone away and looks at me with a raised eyebrow. Before she can get off a snarky comment, I defend myself, saying, “You’re early.”
“What are you wearing?” She gives me the once over with a blank face.
“A black dress? You never said where we are going,” I say as I look down at myself. I think my outfit is okay.
She crosses her arms, pushing up her already impressive cleavage, and rolls her eyes, saying, “It’s not only exceedingly boring, but inside out. Take me to your closet.”
“Take me to your leader,” I reply in my best robot voice. She just stares at me, not so much as a twitch of the mouth.Awkward. I thought I was funny.
As I lead the way, I smile to myself as I picture her as the sexy, glamorous Barbie doll I always wanted as a child. If Barbie was a redhead from hell with the attitude of a succubus. Then I think,maybe she asked me out tonight because she needs a friend.
My mindset thaws a little as I think of her as having a hard outer shell of rock-solid confidence but a sweet and lonely center. Like a chocolate-covered cherry. By the time I open the closet door, I’m smiling at my analogy and planning to be her best friend.
“What a fucking mess,” she huffs at me, again bumping my shoulder as she walks past me and starts rifling through my clothes.
Okay, friend might be too strong a word. We can start as acquaintances first. She spies the black garment bag toward the back and pounces on it like a cat.
“Aha!” She spins to face me, her feline smile so like Luke’s, I can’t believe they aren’t twins. “I bet there’s something positively dripping in here.”
She hangs it on the back of the closet door and unzips it, pulling out the corset. “Now this is more like it.”
“I’m not sure I want to go out in a corset,” I say with hesitation, but she seems so excited about it.
She narrows her eyes at me and the side of her mouth quirks up as she says, “Oh.”
Giving a little shrug, she starts to zip up the bag. She singsongs, “I just thought you’d want to surprise Luke by wearing it.”
“Luke? We’re going to see Luke?” She’s got me. If I’m going to see Luke, then I want to knock his socks off after the weird exchange earlier. “Well, I guess I could wear the corset. But what should I wear with it?”
She claps her hands excitedly and gives a little bounce. I can't keep up with her shifting mood. She is a mercurial little thing. Turning toward my rack of skirts and pants, she quickly flips through them, coming up with a leather skirt.
I vaguely recall buying it and shoving it in the back. I haven't even worn it, as I was never brave enough to wear a skirt that laced completely up the sides. So much skin.
“Are you sure?” I squeak out.
“Trust me,” she replies, handing me the pieces.
What underwear do I wear? I have a set of lacy boy shorts on, but I don’t think that will go with the skirt. And I’m clearly losing the bra since I’m wearing a corset. My usual briefs won’t work, so I turn and start digging through my unmentionables drawer.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to find underwear to go with that skirt,” I reply, rooting around.
“Why on earth would you do that?” she asks incredulously.
I spin to face her, my mouth open and closing like a fish. Finally, I blurt out, “I can’t wear a skirt that short without underwear!”
She twirls, thrusting her perfect peach shaped bottom out at me and shoots over her shoulder, “Do you see panty lines on this ass?”
“Well, no,” I say reluctantly.
