Just the thought of hearing Jenna laugh as we played in the water, just the memory of her playfully wrapping her arms and legs around me and pressing her cool lips to mine, just the knowledge that her tight, hot body was within centimeters of my granite-hard cock—well, it’s enough to keep a man up at night.
With a growl, I throw back the covers and stomp through the living room and into the kitchen. I have to laugh when I find Trick sitting at the island, in the dark, nursing a beer.
“What the hell, man?” he says when I turn on the light.
“If we ain’t sleeping, we’re drinking. Now go get your stash of beer from downstairs. We’re gonna need a lot more than what’s in the fridge. We’ve got some hot blood to cool.”
“This is gonna be a long week, isn’t it?”
“Hell yeah, it is!”
We both sigh and Trick gets up to go downstairs. I walk to the fridge and take out the rest of the cold beer in there to make room for more. I figure we’ll have these downed in less than an hour.
I shake my head as I think again of Jenna. I don’t know what that girl’s trying to do to me, but if it includes death from over-excitement, she’s well on her way.
CHAPTER FIVE- Jenna
It’s after lunch and Rusty is on my mind even more than usual, which is always a lot. This whole look-but-don’t-touch (or at least don’t touch anything too much) is eating me up. But in a really good way. For whatever reason, I almost feel closer to Rusty, like we’re sharing a private joke. I guess we are, actually. A private joke that’s like the ultimate foreplay. And neither of us knows how much we can take before we give in.
But wading through every sweetly torturous moment is half the fun.
“So they are meeting us there, right?” I ask Cami, who’s sitting in the passenger seat of my car, fiddling with her phone.
“Yes. For the millionth time yes! They’re supposed to be there by 1:30.”
“Okay,” I say with a smile. Cami’s turns her attention right back to her phone and types something out furiously. “Just what the hell are you doing?”
Cami’s head jerks up and she glances guiltily at me, shielding her cell phone against her chest. “Nothing. Why?”
I gasp. “You’re sexting!”
“Am not.”
“Are, too! You are a dirty little sexter! Don’t even bother to hide it. Your cheeks are blood red and your pupils are huge!”
Cami grins. “Are they really?”
“Ohmigod, you two are horrible!”
“You say that like you don’t do it.”
“I haven’t texted Rusty one naughty thing since you told me what we were doing with this no sex thing.”
“Really? I’m impressed.”
“You should be, you cock-blocking gutter snipe!”
“Cock-blocking gutter snipe?” she laughs.
I giggle. “I don’t know where in blue blazes that came from. See what a lack of sex does to me?”
“I figured you’d have caved already. You’re not the celibate type.”
“Neither are you. At least not where Trick’s concerned.”
She smiles wider. “He does make it awfully hard to do without.”
My sigh is wistful, as thoughts of Rusty’s talented…parts come to mind. “Gotta love a man with magic in his pants.”
At 1:22, Cami and I are pulling into the parking lot outside the Crazy Clown Costume Shoppe in Summerton. It’s the nearest more-than-one-horse city to our hometown of Greenfield, South Carolina. We get out and walk to the door, both of us stopping to stare at the cardboard cut-out standing on the sidewalk like a proud, bipolar sentry at the shop entrance.
The guy is wearing a fuzzy red wig, a squishy red nose and his face is painted white with a big, black smile around his mouth. From neck up, he’s a clown. But from waist down, it’s a different story. He’s wearing a Chippendale bow tie, forearm cuffs like Conan the Barbarian, underwear with an elephant trunk at just the right place and chaps to finish him off. He’s sort of a costume clusterfu—.
“Please God, tell me you didn’t pick any of this for Trick,” Cami pleads as we approach the door, interrupting my thoughts.
I giggle. “Well, not all of it.”
She looks at me from the corner of her narrowed eyes and I smile as angelically as someone like me can smile.
A chime sounds as we walk through the door. A short, olive-skinned, small-framed guy dressed in full drag—and I mean full drag—greets us from near the cash register.
“Welcome, ladies,” he says with something similar to a lisp.
His clothes are girly enough—pink sequined mini dress, black feather boa, black fishnets, pink polka dot platforms—and the silky, straight pink wig even matches. But it’s the flat masculine ni**les visible above the plunging neckline of the dress that gives the clerk’s gender away. That and the bulge about six inches below his navel.
“I’m Loretta. Can I help you find something?”
Loretta?
What I’d thought was a female smoker’s voice over the phone was apparently…not. Loretta is a man.
“I’m Jenna. I called a few days ago about some coordinating costumes.”
Loretta throws his hands in the air and his mouth forms an O of excitement. “Oh, girl! I’ve been waiting for you. I can’t wait for you to see what I got in for the guys.”
Platforms and all, Loretta races toward me and takes me by the hand to start towing me toward the back of the shop. Quickly, I reach out and grab Cami’s wrist. If I go, she goes.
The back wall of the store is lined with rows and rows of rolling metal racks. Loretta doesn’t stop until we are in the far right, rear corner facing a rack parked under a sign that reads Theopolis.
“I already pulled aside two or three different sizes in all the costumes you asked for. I brought ‘em back here with the ladies’, just to keep ‘em straight. It’s the only thing I like straight,” he says with a wink and an elbow to my ribs. “They start at large and go through two X. I know how big these corn-fed country boys can be.” He waggles his eyebrows comically and delicately slaps my shoulder. I laugh outright.
“Well you know your men,” I say, stating the obvious. “Most of the ones coming in are pretty husky.”
“Mmm, I love me some husky,” Loretta says with a wicked grin. “Now which one of you gets what outfit? Wait! Don’t tell me. Let me guess.”
Like the expert that he obviously is, Loretta describes exactly what I had envisioned us wearing.
“Damn, Loretta, you’re good!” I say in awe.
“Girl, I own a costume shop. I’ve got an eye for the inner beast,” he says confidently.
“Well, two of the guys should be here in a few minutes. They’re the two that are giving us the most trouble about the costumes. You know how pig-headed men can be…”
Loretta rolls his eyes. “Mmm mmm, don’t I know it?”
“So we’ve decided to put on a little show for them so that maybe they’ll be a little more…agreeable.”
Loretta’s eyes light up. “Oh, a costume montage? Sign me up!”
“I was thinking something a little more…private.”
Loretta smiles. “Not that I don’t appreciate what you’re thinking, but this is a public business.”
“Oh, not that private. I was just thinking maybe put on a little show for the boys. You know, get them a little more excited about dressing up. And seeing us all dressed up.”
“Ohhh, I see where you’re going. Start the engines up. Get the appetite going. Girl, I like where you’re head’s at. And I think the dressing rooms in back will work just fine.”
I hear the chime of the front door and my pulse skips. That has to be them.
Loretta yips in excitement. “That must be them. You girls go on back,” he says, pointing to a curtained door. “There are two separate rooms you can use for fitting. Ms. Theopolis, you go left. Honey, you go right,” he says, speaking to Cami. “I’ll roll the whole cart back there when I show your guests to you.” His eyes are bright and sparkling. It’s easy to see that he really loves his job. And men. Hot, corn-fed men.
“Sounds good,” I say, grabbing Cami’s hand. “Come on, woman. We’ve got some torture to inflict.”
Before we disappear, I loud-whisper to Loretta before he’s out of ear shot. “Loretta! I get the red-head.”
He nods and gives me a wink. Cami and I are both smiling on our way through the curtain.
CHAPTER SIX- Rusty
I doubt many things would’ve surprised me more than the man in drag who greeted me and Trick at the door of the costume shop. I think my mouth was still hanging open when he pushed us to the rear of the store and through a curtain to where Jenna and Cami were waiting. Somewhere.
“I’m Loretta,” the guy says by way of introduction. “I’ll be your host for this afternoon’s display. Can I get you boys something to drink?”
Trick and I look at each other then back at him and shake our heads. “No, thanks.”
“All right then. You have a seat right here,” Loretta says, leading me to a comfortable-looking, bright red chair positioned in front of a private little cubby with a black velvet curtain covering the door. “And you come with me,” he says to Trick, disappearing around the corner. “Let’s get this show on the road,” I hear him say as they’re walking away.
I’m sitting in my chair, feeling like a dumbass, when I hear the crackle of speakers coming on line a couple of minutes later. Music pours out around me just before the ambient lights dim and a spot light pops on to illuminate the thick curtain.
I recognize the music. And the song. It’s called You Can Leave Your Hat On, and it has an old, burlesque feel to it. It sets a mood; I’m just not sure what for.
Until I see the curtain wiggle.
It parts just enough that I see a knee poke out. In time with the music, the leg straightens. It’s curvy and covered in fishnet stocking, with a garter halfway up the thigh. On the foot is an obscenely high, shiny black heel. The curtain parts farther and Jenna steps slowly out of the dressing room.
“Oh damn,” I breathe, suddenly warming to the idea of costumes. Jenna smiles and then, pausing, coyly bites her fingertip, looking up at me from beneath her lashes. “I seem to be having some trouble finding juuuust the right costume. I’m looking for…sexy. What do you think of this one?” she asks, her lips curved the slightest bit, just enough to be suggestive. I let my eyes slide over her outfit. She’s in a pink and black bustier that her tits are practically spilling out of and some frilly little panty-type things. And the fishnets. And that’s it.
“Does it fit okay?” she asks softly, letting her palms glide over the swell of her breasts. “It feels a little…tight.” Before I can answer, she slinks over to my chair and turns, peeking back over her shoulder at me. She wiggles her ass just enough to draw my eye. “How does it look from behind?”
I glance up at Jenna’s face. I see the playfulness in her eyes. And the heat. She’s toying with me, but she’s enjoying it, too. I’ve always loved that about her.
“The fit is good, but what about the material?” I ask, reaching out to touch her. Before my fingers meet her body, though, she straightens and starts to walk away.
She stops in the doorway of the dressing room, smiling back at me. “Let me try another one. Maybe something else will tickle your…fancy a little more.”
When the curtain closes, I lean my head back and close my eyes. It’s been a while since I’ve embarrassed myself in public. If this is the way the afternoon’s gonna go, maybe I should start thinking about baseball. Or Margaret Thatcher. Naked. On a cold day.
Before I can conjure one distracting thought, however, I hear the rings on the curtain jingle. Then, all I hear is the music. And the thud of my heartbeat in my ears.
I open my eyes to Jenna masked and dressed in a black leather cat suit with one sparkling silver zipper that goes from throat to crotch. She struts over to me this time, cracking a black leather riding crop over her palm.
She stops in front of the chair and raises one leg to set her stiletto-shod foot on the arm. With her legs spread, I watch as she drags the tail of the riding crop up one long thigh, stopping only when it grazes the V that makes my mouth water.
“How do you like this one?”
I look up at her face. I can see the glimmer in her eyes as she watches me from behind her black domino. She flicks the riding crop between her thighs. I see her lips part like she gasped, only I didn’t hear it. She might be doing this to torture me, but she’s enjoying the hell out of it, too.
I’m just about to take that crop from her hands and show her how I could use it on her when she turns on her heel and walks back the way she came. My eyes are glued to her ass. Blood pumps through my body with each exaggerated swing of her hips.
As I wait, try as I might, I can’t think of baseball or na**d, old British women. I can only think of Jenna. And what she might be wearing next. And how much I wish I was in there while she changes.
When the curtain parts a third time, Jenna appears wearing a teeny tiny white dress with a red cross over the left breast. The top is split to the navel and, if she moved just right, I could probably see nipple. On her feet are red shoes. Around her neck is a red stethoscope.
She starts toward me again, but before she reaches me, she stops, dragging the stethoscope from around her neck. She lets it dangle from her fingertips for a few seconds before she drops it onto the floor behind her.