I can
fit into a space this small with him but I guess we have no choice
but to manage. I wish they had a handicap dressing room nearby but
there isn’t.
He slides in beside me and shuts the door and
locks it. God we were close, really close together. My breasts are
brushing against his stomach close.
“Sorry.” He whispers rather sweetly. Looking
directly into my eyes and not at my breasts that are conveniently
brushing up against him time to time.
“It’s okay.” I smile and let out a nervous
laugh. And for once I mean it. I kind of feel bad for the guy.
Can’t even go out in public without getting mobbed. That’s a pretty
shitty existence even with the fame. Not to be able to walk down to
a coffee shop without having someone notice and ask for an
autograph or picture, or worse.
We stand staring into each other’s eyes. I
can stop looking into his and I think he feels the same. Man is it
getting hot in here or what? My hands are clammy I wipe them on my
black dress.
“Hey Em.” I hear Stacy say from right outside
the dressing room door.
“Yeah?”
“Two things. One- Don’t panic there is a
group of people searching the store for Johnathan. But don’t you
worry I have it covered. And two- I can’t stand around here
twiddling my thumbs it’s boring and obvious. And we can’t leave
until you have clothes. So hand over the ones you have decided to
keep and I’ll bring some in for you to try on.”
“Um…. That’s not possible Stace.”
“What? Why?” he whispers.
“Because it’s cramped in here. Tell me why he
doesn’t go in the bathroom to hide or in another stall?”
“He has to stay in there with you. For one
the bathroom is too accessible and two if he goes into another
dressing room and a person comes in and knocks he can’t very well
talk can he? But if they knock on your door you can and they’ll be
none the wiser.”
I’d hate to admit it but he’s got a good
point. This is the only real way without making a giant scene that
will be posted to the internet along with me punching Johnathan in
the nose. Which of course hit the news big time, even on fox. A few
pictures were captured via cell phones and tons of captions about
it being a lover’s quarrel or a one-night stand gone
awry . Nothing about the real truth that he was an asshole and I
socked him a good one for it.
“Hey J you good?” Stacy asks.
“Yep.” He whispers.
I can feel my back starting to get warm. I
will never look at dressing room stalls the same again. It’s hard
not to stare at a six-five giant wearing a plain white t-shirt,
khaki cargo shorts, a blue bandana on his head and aviators hanging
into the top of his shirt. Not very good on the incognito part but
bonus points on the sexiness. The bandana is hot on him.
“What are you staring at?” he raises an
eyebrow playfully and a small naughty smile creeps out of the
corners of his big juicy lips.
“Oh stop. You already know you’re hot. Woman
tell you that all the time.” I blush. I don’t mean to. But I can’t
help it. It’s hot and we have been pinned together for too long.
What has it been eight hours? Well probably ten minutes but it
feels like way longer.
“Yes, but you never tell me that.” He
whispers his voice is dark and sexy. Those few words I don’t know
why but I get instantly warm in my belly and my toes curl. Force
myself to close my eyes and shake my head to clear it.
“Wh…” my voice cracks. I clear my throat.
“Why does it matter what I think?” I finally make out. How freaking
embarrassing.
“Because you’re my short stack.” He says.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m
HIS short stack? Is that a good thing? It doesn’t sound bad. But
god he is so infuriating most of the time. Why can’t he just say
what he means like usual?
“What’s that mean?” Fine, I let it out and
ask. I have to know.
“Hey Em, I have some panties and stuff out
here I selected for you. I’m gonna toss them over. Take a
fit into a space this small with him but I guess we have no choice
but to manage. I wish they had a handicap dressing room nearby but
there isn’t.
He slides in beside me and shuts the door and
locks it. God we were close, really close together. My breasts are
brushing against his stomach close.
“Sorry.” He whispers rather sweetly. Looking
directly into my eyes and not at my breasts that are conveniently
brushing up against him time to time.
“It’s okay.” I smile and let out a nervous
laugh. And for once I mean it. I kind of feel bad for the guy.
Can’t even go out in public without getting mobbed. That’s a pretty
shitty existence even with the fame. Not to be able to walk down to
a coffee shop without having someone notice and ask for an
autograph or picture, or worse.
We stand staring into each other’s eyes. I
can stop looking into his and I think he feels the same. Man is it
getting hot in here or what? My hands are clammy I wipe them on my
black dress.
“Hey Em.” I hear Stacy say from right outside
the dressing room door.
“Yeah?”
“Two things. One- Don’t panic there is a
group of people searching the store for Johnathan. But don’t you
worry I have it covered. And two- I can’t stand around here
twiddling my thumbs it’s boring and obvious. And we can’t leave
until you have clothes. So hand over the ones you have decided to
keep and I’ll bring some in for you to try on.”
“Um…. That’s not possible Stace.”
“What? Why?” he whispers.
“Because it’s cramped in here. Tell me why he
doesn’t go in the bathroom to hide or in another stall?”
“He has to stay in there with you. For one
the bathroom is too accessible and two if he goes into another
dressing room and a person comes in and knocks he can’t very well
talk can he? But if they knock on your door you can and they’ll be
none the wiser.”
I’d hate to admit it but he’s got a good
point. This is the only real way without making a giant scene that
will be posted to the internet along with me punching Johnathan in
the nose. Which of course hit the news big time, even on fox. A few
pictures were captured via cell phones and tons of captions about
it being a lover’s quarrel or a one-night stand gone
awry . Nothing about the real truth that he was an asshole and I
socked him a good one for it.
“Hey J you good?” Stacy asks.
“Yep.” He whispers.
I can feel my back starting to get warm. I
will never look at dressing room stalls the same again. It’s hard
not to stare at a six-five giant wearing a plain white t-shirt,
khaki cargo shorts, a blue bandana on his head and aviators hanging
into the top of his shirt. Not very good on the incognito part but
bonus points on the sexiness. The bandana is hot on him.
“What are you staring at?” he raises an
eyebrow playfully and a small naughty smile creeps out of the
corners of his big juicy lips.
“Oh stop. You already know you’re hot. Woman
tell you that all the time.” I blush. I don’t mean to. But I can’t
help it. It’s hot and we have been pinned together for too long.
What has it been eight hours? Well probably ten minutes but it
feels like way longer.
“Yes, but you never tell me that.” He
whispers his voice is dark and sexy. Those few words I don’t know
why but I get instantly warm in my belly and my toes curl. Force
myself to close my eyes and shake my head to clear it.
“Wh…” my voice cracks. I clear my throat.
“Why does it matter what I think?” I finally make out. How freaking
embarrassing.
“Because you’re my short stack.” He says.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m
HIS short stack? Is that a good thing? It doesn’t sound bad. But
god he is so infuriating most of the time. Why can’t he just say
what he means like usual?
“What’s that mean?” Fine, I let it out and
ask. I have to know.
“Hey Em, I have some panties and stuff out
here I selected for you. I’m gonna toss them over. Take a
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