The Player's Girl (The Girls) by S R Vicente Page A

especially someone gorgeous as him? He would go down well with her friends too, if it got that far they would certainly be impressed. Amy leaned down on the desk and wrote her mobile number on a sticky note pad. She leaned forward just enough to ensure he had a great view of her chest. She had a plunge bra on that even she had to admit, made her tits look sexy. She hoped he liked the view.
    “Call me,” she said passing the sticky note over to him, “if you’re not some sort of weirdo of course.” As soon as she said it, she regretted it. How stupid did she sound?
    He nodded and took it, gently brushing his fingers against her hand as he did so, a simple smile on his face. “We are all somebody’s weirdo!” he said. She nodded, not knowing how to crawl out of this. She was blushing as she watched him leave her office, hoping like hell he would call. She doubted it already.
    On Friday morning while she was in the middle of arranging a cruise holiday for an old couple, Mark rang. She was so nervous when she recognised the voice she nearly dropped her phone. Her hands shook as she gripped it tightly.
    “Hey Amy. You still okay for tomorrow night?” he asked, in a deep voice. He sounded sexy.
    “Depends on what we’re doing?” she said, trying to play coy.
    “I’ll pick you up at seven and I want you to wear a dress, one of those little black numbers. What’s your address?” he asked. She felt butterflies as she told him.
    “Great. I’ll have it delivered over later,” he said and hung up. When she arrived home that evening, a deliveryman was waiting for her in his parked up van. He passed her a box and left. Amy had never heard of deliverymen waiting for you.
    When she walked into the pleasant warmth of the kitchen, she grabbed a cutting knife and slit the lid open. Pulling out the contents, she held up a skimpy black halter neck dress. Made of sheer fabric, it was completely see through. A little yellow sticky note sat at the bottom of the box. Pulling it out it read, ‘nothing else but stockings and heels.’ Her stomach knotted. Tomorrow night was going to be indeed, one hell of an interesting night.
    * * * * *
    The following evening he arrived at her door wearing a black suit and had a taxi waiting for them. “I like your dress,” he commented when she opened the door to him. She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t wearing underwear but as it was a cool evening, had thrown a large wrap over her shoulders. It covered her breasts. As long as she stood still, the material that gathered in at the waist of the dress, fell in such a way as to provide a tiny portion on modesty. She had spent the afternoon debating whether to go through with this or not. If she knew him better, the decision to play would have been easier.
    “And your body,” he added for good measure. It had been so long since anyone had said that to her.
    “This old thing?” she replied feeling a little more confident.
    He laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t plan on you wearing it much anyway!” He took her hand and led her to the taxi, opening her door. She felt extremely conscious as she carefully sat down in the back.  “You don’t mind do you?” he asked, looking at the taxi, “I fancied a few drinks!”
    “Course not, it’s a good idea!” He slid in next to her and shut the door behind him before resting his hand on her knee. Amy could feel her face blush but didn’t resist, rather liking it. They didn’t speak as the taxi headed towards Regents Park. His hand crept higher up her leg and she felt goose pimples as her skin responded in delight. He used his thumb to push her other leg away, making her part her knees a little. She let him. The thrill of what he was doing was just too hard to refuse. She could see the taxi driver looking at them in his rear view mirror. In this light he would have a perfect view. He pulled the sheer fabric up her leg, almost all the way to her crotch. Her heart was beating faster