at me. I don’t even have to look at her; I can hear it in her voice.
“Agent Provocateur?”
“Really? Now what would you possibly need to be in Agent Provocateur for?” She’s goading me and I love it.
“Oh, nothing in particular. Just, you know, to look around.” I try and play it off cool.
“Uh-huh,” Rachel retorts sarcastically. “I’d be willing to bet it is something very particular that you’re looking for. Spill it. What’s going on in that naughty little head of yours?”
“Well.” I contemplate whether or not I really want to tell her. Hell, she’s the one that put it in my head. It’s her fault. “I had a dream last night.” I pause, figuring out exactly where to go with this.
“Okay.” I can hear the don’t make me pull it out of you in her tone.
“Fuck it. I dreamed Seth was fucking me, and then out of nowhere there was another cock in my face. I just couldn’t get enough of it. I was gagging myself on it while Seth was ramming himself into me. That is what has me all scatter-brained this morning. I woke myself up out of a dead sleep; my body was still coming down from the orgasm.”
Rachel’s mouth is agape; her eyes blinking over-exaggeratedly.
I wait, and wait, and wait. Nothing. “For fuck’s sake, say something.”
She licks her lips, “You little slut. You dirty, dirty, little slut. I’m SO proud of you!” She throws her right arm around my neck and pulls me into a half-hug over the center console.
“It’s your fault, Rachel. All your Jedi mind-tricks put that crap in my head the other night.” I wave my hands around like in the Star Wars movies.
We make it to LA, and head to Melrose Avenue. After valet parking, Rachel and I start our shopping bonanza; up one side of the street and down the other. In three hours, we’ve managed to hit nine different stores, and we both have our arms completely filled with shopping bags, containing everything from vintage tees to designer shoes, one-off dresses, and even some naughty negligees. All in all, we’ve managed to drop about ten grand. Mind boggling to me, but just another summer shopping spree for Rachel.
While waiting at the valet stand as they retrieve her Mustang, I pull my phone out when a text notification dings.
Seth: Hope you’re having a great weekend. Really looking forward to seeing you this week.
Rachel looks over my shoulder. “So, are you going to make him work for it?” She elbows me, playfully insinuating.
“I don’t know if I can. I really need to get laid.”
Me: Glad to hear it. ‘Yes,’ I am having a good weekend. Rachel and I are out melting her Dad’s credit card. Talk to you soon.
The Mustang pulls up, and we throw our haul of merchandise into the trunk. We hit a bistro before leaving town to have a light, late lunch. Conversation is mostly about her route through Europe. She’ll start in London, work her way to Paris, over to Rome and then up and across to Switzerland. Ambitious for a month’s visit.
It’s about six-thirty when Rachel drops me off at the house, and I drag all my bags in. I pull my new dresses, tees, and capris out and hang them on the racks in the closet. The shoes and new Givenchy handbag go in their cubby slots in the built-ins. Finally, I unpack the Agent Provocateur bag. It’s a black lace and sheer paneled bra and panty set. I wouldn’t even let Rachel see me in it. This thing makes me feel sexy as hell and worth a million bucks. And it gives me an idea.
Slipping out of my pink sundress, I remove the Victoria’s Secret bra and panties, replacing it with the new set. After redressing in the pink sundress, I slide back into my sandals, grab my purse and keys and head out to the garage.
The board is still on the Jeep, so I remove it and place it on its rack on the wall. After opening the door, I toss my purse into the passenger seat and climb up. I press the garage door opener and start the Jeep up once the door is clear. Backing out, I get on my
“Agent Provocateur?”
“Really? Now what would you possibly need to be in Agent Provocateur for?” She’s goading me and I love it.
“Oh, nothing in particular. Just, you know, to look around.” I try and play it off cool.
“Uh-huh,” Rachel retorts sarcastically. “I’d be willing to bet it is something very particular that you’re looking for. Spill it. What’s going on in that naughty little head of yours?”
“Well.” I contemplate whether or not I really want to tell her. Hell, she’s the one that put it in my head. It’s her fault. “I had a dream last night.” I pause, figuring out exactly where to go with this.
“Okay.” I can hear the don’t make me pull it out of you in her tone.
“Fuck it. I dreamed Seth was fucking me, and then out of nowhere there was another cock in my face. I just couldn’t get enough of it. I was gagging myself on it while Seth was ramming himself into me. That is what has me all scatter-brained this morning. I woke myself up out of a dead sleep; my body was still coming down from the orgasm.”
Rachel’s mouth is agape; her eyes blinking over-exaggeratedly.
I wait, and wait, and wait. Nothing. “For fuck’s sake, say something.”
She licks her lips, “You little slut. You dirty, dirty, little slut. I’m SO proud of you!” She throws her right arm around my neck and pulls me into a half-hug over the center console.
“It’s your fault, Rachel. All your Jedi mind-tricks put that crap in my head the other night.” I wave my hands around like in the Star Wars movies.
We make it to LA, and head to Melrose Avenue. After valet parking, Rachel and I start our shopping bonanza; up one side of the street and down the other. In three hours, we’ve managed to hit nine different stores, and we both have our arms completely filled with shopping bags, containing everything from vintage tees to designer shoes, one-off dresses, and even some naughty negligees. All in all, we’ve managed to drop about ten grand. Mind boggling to me, but just another summer shopping spree for Rachel.
While waiting at the valet stand as they retrieve her Mustang, I pull my phone out when a text notification dings.
Seth: Hope you’re having a great weekend. Really looking forward to seeing you this week.
Rachel looks over my shoulder. “So, are you going to make him work for it?” She elbows me, playfully insinuating.
“I don’t know if I can. I really need to get laid.”
Me: Glad to hear it. ‘Yes,’ I am having a good weekend. Rachel and I are out melting her Dad’s credit card. Talk to you soon.
The Mustang pulls up, and we throw our haul of merchandise into the trunk. We hit a bistro before leaving town to have a light, late lunch. Conversation is mostly about her route through Europe. She’ll start in London, work her way to Paris, over to Rome and then up and across to Switzerland. Ambitious for a month’s visit.
It’s about six-thirty when Rachel drops me off at the house, and I drag all my bags in. I pull my new dresses, tees, and capris out and hang them on the racks in the closet. The shoes and new Givenchy handbag go in their cubby slots in the built-ins. Finally, I unpack the Agent Provocateur bag. It’s a black lace and sheer paneled bra and panty set. I wouldn’t even let Rachel see me in it. This thing makes me feel sexy as hell and worth a million bucks. And it gives me an idea.
Slipping out of my pink sundress, I remove the Victoria’s Secret bra and panties, replacing it with the new set. After redressing in the pink sundress, I slide back into my sandals, grab my purse and keys and head out to the garage.
The board is still on the Jeep, so I remove it and place it on its rack on the wall. After opening the door, I toss my purse into the passenger seat and climb up. I press the garage door opener and start the Jeep up once the door is clear. Backing out, I get on my
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