a goddamn professional. I could get lost in that cleavage.
You used to have those in your bed every day, asshole. Didn't appreciate them then, did you?
Fine. Maybe I took her for granted a little bit. Maybe more than a little. But I never saw her like this before. It's not just her clothes, it's the way she holds herself. She looks a little bit regal and a little bit sly, and I realize that my inconvenient arousal might've actually tickled her more than she let on.
"You look nice," I tell her, finally.
Great job. Awesome line. Now she'll melt for sure.
"I know." She glances at me sidelong and smiles. Okay, so now we're joking about my boner. At least that's a step away from the awkward silence.
"You know it's not always a compliment," I point out. "Sometimes it's involuntary."
"Right," she says, shifting in her seat a little. " Sometimes it is."
Now I can almost see the top of her stocking. I'm pretty sure it's not just those faux-tights that are made to look like it, I think they're the real deal. And I don't know why that makes me want to groan out loud.
"Yes," she says, following my line of sight. With one finger, she hikes her skirt up just enough to show where the garter attaches. "They're thigh-highs."
"Christ." I let my head fall back on the seat.
" She never dressed like that when we were together ," Lissy intones, mocking my inner monologue. "Am I right?"
I shoot her a look. "Well, you didn't."
"Well, you never asked." She grins, sliding a little bit closer, just enough so she can reach out and grab the end of one of my laces. She can't bend at the waist much, so this gesture puts her breasts approximately two inches from my face. I freeze as she tugs on the end of the thin leather strip, gently. "Also, neither did you ."
God damn. The girl wanted me in leather and lace-up flies, I would have done it in a heartbeat. I had no idea. How was I supposed to know?
"That's not fair," I grumble, trying to squirm away from her before my temporarily-dormant dick realizes what's going on. "I didn't know you liked it. Every straight man with eyes wants to see his woman in a corset and thigh-highs."
"Oh boy," she says, taking mercy on me and putting a little more distance between us. "I hope you're not about to trot out that old 'women aren't visual' stereotype. Come hang out in some of the online readers' groups I'm in. You'll be in for a world of wonders, my friend."
"I'm not saying women aren't visual, I'm just saying...I mean, is that a thing? Do all women like lace-up leather pants? Nobody talks about it." Too late, I realize I've stumbled into a trap.
"Exactly." She grins. "You know how much time women spend talking about what they can wear to please men? Why don't you try tipping the scales a little bit?"
"Fine, tell me all the secrets, then." I fold my arms across my chest. "I'll make sure to add them to the agenda of the next Bro's Meeting."
"Um, off the top of my head? Well-tailored suits. Button fly jeans. Dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Sharp uniforms. Boots. Cowboy boots. Cowboy hats , if you're into that sort of thing."
My eyes widen a little. "Seriously? This is all common knowledge?"
She shrugs. "I mean, pretty much. Opinions vary, of course. I once knew a guy who told me that his favorite look on a woman was a bikini and sneakers. There's no accounting for taste."
"A bikini and anything is a good option," I inform her, glancing at her chest again. God damn it.
"Yeah, well." She smiles, without it reaching her eyes. "Not really for me."
"Could be," I point out.
But she just shakes her head.
***
Lissy
Me in a bikini? Seriously? I'd get laughed off the beach. Oh well, his vote of confidence is charming, I guess. I'm still kicking myself for not coming up with a scathing one-liner when I noticed that he got hard when he was lacing me up, but the whole thing just threw me off. At the tail end of our relationship, the bedroom situation had become so
You used to have those in your bed every day, asshole. Didn't appreciate them then, did you?
Fine. Maybe I took her for granted a little bit. Maybe more than a little. But I never saw her like this before. It's not just her clothes, it's the way she holds herself. She looks a little bit regal and a little bit sly, and I realize that my inconvenient arousal might've actually tickled her more than she let on.
"You look nice," I tell her, finally.
Great job. Awesome line. Now she'll melt for sure.
"I know." She glances at me sidelong and smiles. Okay, so now we're joking about my boner. At least that's a step away from the awkward silence.
"You know it's not always a compliment," I point out. "Sometimes it's involuntary."
"Right," she says, shifting in her seat a little. " Sometimes it is."
Now I can almost see the top of her stocking. I'm pretty sure it's not just those faux-tights that are made to look like it, I think they're the real deal. And I don't know why that makes me want to groan out loud.
"Yes," she says, following my line of sight. With one finger, she hikes her skirt up just enough to show where the garter attaches. "They're thigh-highs."
"Christ." I let my head fall back on the seat.
" She never dressed like that when we were together ," Lissy intones, mocking my inner monologue. "Am I right?"
I shoot her a look. "Well, you didn't."
"Well, you never asked." She grins, sliding a little bit closer, just enough so she can reach out and grab the end of one of my laces. She can't bend at the waist much, so this gesture puts her breasts approximately two inches from my face. I freeze as she tugs on the end of the thin leather strip, gently. "Also, neither did you ."
God damn. The girl wanted me in leather and lace-up flies, I would have done it in a heartbeat. I had no idea. How was I supposed to know?
"That's not fair," I grumble, trying to squirm away from her before my temporarily-dormant dick realizes what's going on. "I didn't know you liked it. Every straight man with eyes wants to see his woman in a corset and thigh-highs."
"Oh boy," she says, taking mercy on me and putting a little more distance between us. "I hope you're not about to trot out that old 'women aren't visual' stereotype. Come hang out in some of the online readers' groups I'm in. You'll be in for a world of wonders, my friend."
"I'm not saying women aren't visual, I'm just saying...I mean, is that a thing? Do all women like lace-up leather pants? Nobody talks about it." Too late, I realize I've stumbled into a trap.
"Exactly." She grins. "You know how much time women spend talking about what they can wear to please men? Why don't you try tipping the scales a little bit?"
"Fine, tell me all the secrets, then." I fold my arms across my chest. "I'll make sure to add them to the agenda of the next Bro's Meeting."
"Um, off the top of my head? Well-tailored suits. Button fly jeans. Dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Sharp uniforms. Boots. Cowboy boots. Cowboy hats , if you're into that sort of thing."
My eyes widen a little. "Seriously? This is all common knowledge?"
She shrugs. "I mean, pretty much. Opinions vary, of course. I once knew a guy who told me that his favorite look on a woman was a bikini and sneakers. There's no accounting for taste."
"A bikini and anything is a good option," I inform her, glancing at her chest again. God damn it.
"Yeah, well." She smiles, without it reaching her eyes. "Not really for me."
"Could be," I point out.
But she just shakes her head.
***
Lissy
Me in a bikini? Seriously? I'd get laughed off the beach. Oh well, his vote of confidence is charming, I guess. I'm still kicking myself for not coming up with a scathing one-liner when I noticed that he got hard when he was lacing me up, but the whole thing just threw me off. At the tail end of our relationship, the bedroom situation had become so
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