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The door caught as he stopped it with his palm, peered over his shoulder. She raised an innocent brow. "Just wanting to know how firm you are on that. The terms of tonight's date, that is."
His lips twitched at the double entendre. "You wanted to take it slow. We're taking it slow."
"And you never change your mind about a session, once the parameters are set at the beginning."
"No. I don't. You have a good memory."
"Okay. Just checking." His speculative look almost made her laugh. Then he nodded past her. "UPS, with a late afternoon delivery. You'll want to get that. Be sure you open it first thing when you get home." He turned and disappeared back into his own store.
She watched the truck trundle up. Clarence disembarked with a flat dress box from her regular costumer supplier. She hadn't remembered placing a new order, though she needed to do so, since she was starting to know which outfits turned over more frequently than others.
"All good today, Ms. Fine?"
"Yes, Clarence." She'd told him he didn't need to call her Ms. Fine, but she suspected he'd called Alice that. Maybe it reminded him of her, to keep doing it.
He smiled at her when she took the package and told him she'd have chocolate chip cookies next week. Those were his favorites. Maybe she should expand, buy the empty storefront across the street, hire some help and run a bakery. She and Logan could take over the whole block, their own little empire.
She chuckled at the thought and went to her car, opening it up and putting her keys and purse in the front seat. Laying the box on the hood, she slit it open with her pen knife, too curious to wait to see what it was.
On top of the folded tissue paper was a typewritten note.
Wear this tonight.--L
Pulling back the tissue paper, she saw he'd ordered a replacement for the Catholic schoolgirl uniform Sam had bought, only this one was in her size. Or at least as much as size was relevant for two scraps of cloth; a white shirt that tied between the breasts and a plaid skirt the width of a curtain topper. He'd gone all-out on the accessories, though, including the long white stockings, black patent shoes and a white cotton thong, which he apparently preferred to the frilly panties.
The day he'd helped stabilize the shelf, he'd been wearing a gray T-shirt that molded to his upper body. With his size, it had to be an X-Large. That night, she'd lain in bed and imagined herself in the cotton thong panties he preferred and that shirt, surrounded by his scent and body heat, the cotton fabric slightly damp from his sweat so it would cling to her skin.
Even as far back as grade school, she couldn't remember having a crush this strong and fast. It was terrifying. She thought of Sam in the Catholic schoolgirl outfit, Chris on his knees, kissing his way up the inside of those long legs. Geoff "discovering" their transgression and devising a punishment that resulted in all three of them together in bed, sweaty and replete, limbs twined together.
Except for the Bohemian outfit she'd worn that first day, most of her clothes had come from the shop. It was a good sales approach, but part of it was avoiding digging deeper in Wonderland. However, on the dresser in Wonderland was a cameo on a black silk ribbon. It would tie snugly around the throat and be a nice addition to the schoolgirl outfit. There was also a black garter with satin ribbon clips she could use to hold up the white stockings.
She fingered the fabric. Was it rid
iculous, a woman in her thirties wearing something a girl Sam's age could pull off so much better?
Apparently Logan didn't think so.
The thought gave her self-confidence a boost, brought the doubts down to a quiet roar. If she wore this, she might test his resolve about the no sex thing. A lot. She liked that idea.
*
She got dressed at seven o'clock. He hadn't provided a bra, though she had several very sexy ones in Wonderland. Alice had obviously added some things since they'd last "played" in there. Madison even found a latex catsuit. Holding it up in front of the mirror, she thought, with her long brown hair, she might look a little bit like Catwoman. She remembered playing Batman and Catwoman when she was little, wanting Batman to come rescue her. She'd liked how "bad" Catwoman was, and how stern Batman was with her.
She snorted at herself. If she searched the Internet, she was sure she'd find fan fiction where Catwoman received that spanking she'd deserved from her nemesis. The web was a wealth of such dark yearnings.
She decided against the bra, concluding Logan's omission was intentional. The shirt was thin enough that her nipples were displayed prominently. After donning the cotton thong, she added the garter belt with black ribbon straps, clipping the ends to the long stockings which came up to midthigh. She also tied the cameo around her throat, feeling the rapid beat of her pulse beneath it. She closed her eyes as she tightened the ribbon, imagining Logan doing it.
She'd planned to make him crazy, but by the time she'd added the last piece, the panel of the thong pressed against her noticeably wet crotch. Turning, she verified that yes, the lower curves of her ass cheeks were visible right beneath the pleated hem.
He'd said firmly, adamantly, no sex. Yet he'd dressed her as if she had one purpose in life, and that was to be fucked.
He was a sadist.
She went downstairs to the kitchen. She'd set out clippers, scissors and cape to cut his hair, and she had beer and wine in the fridge. Alice had a movie popcorn popper, and she had that loaded in case he wanted to share a bowl during the movie. She wondered what he would bring for them to watch.
As she drew a bowl out from the lower cabinet, the cool air of the kitchen caressed her ass, making the damp cotton against her pussy more noticeable. Her reaction to that forced her to steady herself against the counter. It was no use. No matter how she tried to distract herself, every movement of her body reminded her of what she was wearing, how she looked . . . how aroused she was.
When the doorbell rang, she struggled to compose herself. She wanted to torture him. Surely she could have enough self-control to do that, given how much satisfaction it would give her to see him unbalanced. She sauntered down the hallway with a lot of hip action. Though she knew he could see through the window panel of the front door, she didn't look through it, not brave enough to make eye contact.
