know how to see it in herself.
Charlotte’s mission was figuring out a way to show her.
* * *
LANCE COULDN’T FIND A STORE IN HIS SCHOOL DISTRICT THAT sold the things he wanted. Which was probably a good thing. A sexual fetish shop probably wouldn’t raise any property values.
The store he’d looked up on the Internet after Charlotte left his office this morning—his personal computer, not his school-issued desktop—was along a stylish mall in a newly refurbished downtown only ten minutes along the freeway. He shared the sidewalk with mothers pushing strollers, poodles prancing at the ends of their leashes, teenagers rushing for after-school coffee drinks or pizza parlors, and a few lovebirds holding hands. The place he had in mind didn’t advertise sexual toys in the window, but instead displayed a variety of skimpy lingerie. Feathered Halloween masks were on sale now that October was over, although Lance figured the masks could be marked back up for Mardi Gras in a few months.
Stepping inside, he found the front room equipped exactly like the window. Racks of colorful bras and panties, a counter displaying bright jewelry and sparkly makeup, hooks on the walls holding costumes and sexy scraps of lace.
“May I help you, sir?” The salesgirl looked young enough to be one of his students. Or worse, his daughter. But if he’d had a daughter, he would have been against the nose ring, the blue hair, and the black fingernail polish, not to mention the short pleated skirt that barely covered her—
He needed to stop being so judgmental. “I’m just browsing,” he said quickly. Under no circumstances would he be able to purchase what he wanted from this . . . girl.
“The garters and bustiers are all on sale this month.” She fluttered exceptionally thick lashes at him.
“Thank you.” He smiled. Charlotte Moore would have a field day with him on this one. She probably recommended sex toys to her clients all the time to spice up their sex lives. Although he was sure that was probably minimizing what she did.
At that point, thankfully, the shop’s door opened again and two ladies entered, providing the diversion he needed to make it to the back room.
He wasn’t a prude, but the kinkiest he’d gotten—before he spanked Charlotte—was using his second wife’s vibrator on her. The experience had been pleasurable enough, until he’d realized she preferred using it on herself when he wasn’t around. Most men would have looked to their own prowess, but Lance had begun to understand that she enjoyed sex in ten-to-fifteen-minute bouts without all the mess and fuss of having to deal with anyone else’s orgasm but her own.
It was this kind of thinking that had given him ideas about Charlotte. He could spank the naughty little wench— cocksucker , that still had him laughing—or he could up the stakes with something special. The problem: He had no idea what . Hence his shopping trip. He was sure something would catch his eye.
The lingerie racks gave way to a narrow hallway filled with shelves of sexual gag gifts: inflatable dolls, inflatable penises, penis joke books, penis eraser heads. Hah, that would go over well at school.
The hallway opened up into a long room that was twice the size of the front area. Well, hell, here was where all the business was done. And here’s where all the customers were. Couples, women, men. There were shelves of how-to books, erotica for couples, for women, for gays and lesbians. All manner of vibrators covered half a wall, all shapes, sizes, colors, one-speed, two-speed, three-speed. Next to that hung cock rings, cock harnesses, cock plugs, cock pins—uh, no, thank you very much. He didn’t even want to know what they were used for. There were gels and heating lotions, wands that looked like feather dusters and would probably cost a hell of a lot less at a discount department store. Leather masks, headgear, hoods, handcuffs, ball gags, nipple clamps, blindfolds,
Charlotte’s mission was figuring out a way to show her.
* * *
LANCE COULDN’T FIND A STORE IN HIS SCHOOL DISTRICT THAT sold the things he wanted. Which was probably a good thing. A sexual fetish shop probably wouldn’t raise any property values.
The store he’d looked up on the Internet after Charlotte left his office this morning—his personal computer, not his school-issued desktop—was along a stylish mall in a newly refurbished downtown only ten minutes along the freeway. He shared the sidewalk with mothers pushing strollers, poodles prancing at the ends of their leashes, teenagers rushing for after-school coffee drinks or pizza parlors, and a few lovebirds holding hands. The place he had in mind didn’t advertise sexual toys in the window, but instead displayed a variety of skimpy lingerie. Feathered Halloween masks were on sale now that October was over, although Lance figured the masks could be marked back up for Mardi Gras in a few months.
Stepping inside, he found the front room equipped exactly like the window. Racks of colorful bras and panties, a counter displaying bright jewelry and sparkly makeup, hooks on the walls holding costumes and sexy scraps of lace.
“May I help you, sir?” The salesgirl looked young enough to be one of his students. Or worse, his daughter. But if he’d had a daughter, he would have been against the nose ring, the blue hair, and the black fingernail polish, not to mention the short pleated skirt that barely covered her—
He needed to stop being so judgmental. “I’m just browsing,” he said quickly. Under no circumstances would he be able to purchase what he wanted from this . . . girl.
“The garters and bustiers are all on sale this month.” She fluttered exceptionally thick lashes at him.
“Thank you.” He smiled. Charlotte Moore would have a field day with him on this one. She probably recommended sex toys to her clients all the time to spice up their sex lives. Although he was sure that was probably minimizing what she did.
At that point, thankfully, the shop’s door opened again and two ladies entered, providing the diversion he needed to make it to the back room.
He wasn’t a prude, but the kinkiest he’d gotten—before he spanked Charlotte—was using his second wife’s vibrator on her. The experience had been pleasurable enough, until he’d realized she preferred using it on herself when he wasn’t around. Most men would have looked to their own prowess, but Lance had begun to understand that she enjoyed sex in ten-to-fifteen-minute bouts without all the mess and fuss of having to deal with anyone else’s orgasm but her own.
It was this kind of thinking that had given him ideas about Charlotte. He could spank the naughty little wench— cocksucker , that still had him laughing—or he could up the stakes with something special. The problem: He had no idea what . Hence his shopping trip. He was sure something would catch his eye.
The lingerie racks gave way to a narrow hallway filled with shelves of sexual gag gifts: inflatable dolls, inflatable penises, penis joke books, penis eraser heads. Hah, that would go over well at school.
The hallway opened up into a long room that was twice the size of the front area. Well, hell, here was where all the business was done. And here’s where all the customers were. Couples, women, men. There were shelves of how-to books, erotica for couples, for women, for gays and lesbians. All manner of vibrators covered half a wall, all shapes, sizes, colors, one-speed, two-speed, three-speed. Next to that hung cock rings, cock harnesses, cock plugs, cock pins—uh, no, thank you very much. He didn’t even want to know what they were used for. There were gels and heating lotions, wands that looked like feather dusters and would probably cost a hell of a lot less at a discount department store. Leather masks, headgear, hoods, handcuffs, ball gags, nipple clamps, blindfolds,
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