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“Yeah, well, I lied. Laurel was my first blow job.” He pulled his feet off the table and braced his forearms against his thighs. “But my point is that I lost my virginity and fell in fucking love, dude. I thought that was it. No one could ever be as hot or perfect as her. I mean, she wore thongs and garters and shit. No girl in high school was going to top that.”
Foster sniffed, having trouble picturing Pike with hearts in his eyes.
“But of course all that rush of feeling wasn’t real. It was just me being young and stupid and horny as shit. We fooled around a few more times, but the novelty eventually wore off and we moved on.”
“Man, that’s kind of fucked up. She was a grown woman, and no offense, but you were a pretty screwed-up kid back then. She shouldn’t have messed with you.”
He shrugged. “Fucking a beautiful older woman was the least of my potentially psychologically damaging experiences back then. And hell, if I was with her, at least I didn’t have to go home to sleep.”
Foster sighed and leaned back against the couch, Pike’s warning echoing his own worries. “For the record, you’re not telling me something I’m not already worried about. I know I’m a novelty to Cela right now, and that on some level, I represent all the bad in her good-girl world. But it feels like more, Pike. When we’re together, there’s this sense of . . . rightness. Like she’s supposed to be mine. And she chose to stay here. But, don’t worry, I’m keeping myself in check about it.”
“Sure you are.” Pike shook his head, but there was a smile there. “You’re so fucked, my friend.”
Monty barked, as if seconding that remark.
“No, I’m serious. I’m not letting myself get too deep yet. I’m just seeing how it goes.”
“Uh-huh,” Pike said, obviously unconvinced. “Just be careful.”
There was a loud knock at the door and a shout of, “Delivery!”
Pike glanced toward the sound as Monty scrambled toward it in full guard-dog mode. “What’s that about?”
Foster pushed off the couch. “You don’t want to know.”
But Pike was already hopping up from his chair and beating Foster to the door. He swung it open. The guy on the other side handed Pike a clipboard. “Delivery for Ian Foster. We wanted to make sure you were home before we brought it up.”
Pike looked down at the paperwork, obviously scanning it to see what was being delivered. He turned to Foster with his jaw slack. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“Shut up.” He grabbed the clipboard from him and signed.
Pike laughed and put a hand on his shoulder. “So. Fucked.”
TWENTY-FIVE
I walked up the stairs to my apartment Tuesday afternoon with butterflies the size of mutant bats in my belly. Foster had emailed me informing me that we’d be going out tonight, and that he’d left instructions for me in an envelope he’d slipped under my door.
When I unlocked my door and saw the innocuous white rectangle lying atop the rug I’d knelt on the last time I’d seen him, a frizzle of anxiety went through me. I picked it up and brought it into the kitchen to set down the rest of my stuff. But that was about all I could manage before tearing it open. Inside were a note and a key.
I unfolded the letter.
Cela,
Thank you for emailing me your hard and soft limits. Tonight you will accompany me to dinner to further work out the details of our arrangement. I’ve selected what I’d like you to wear. It’s hanging in the entryway closet in my apartment. Use this key to retrieve it. Only wear what I’ve provided. Nothing else. Wear your hair down.
Do not drink any alcohol beforehand. I need you clearheaded and totally focused tonight.
I will pick you up at seven. Be ready.
—F
My breath whooshed out of me, the curt instructions waking something inside me. And so it would begin. Deep end of the pool, here I come.
—
After a long shower, a detailed grooming session, and a blowout, I slipped into the strapless dark magenta dress Foster had picked out for me. The luxurious material slid over my bare skin like a soft caress, inspiring images of Foster’s fingers gliding over me. Warmth gathered between my thighs. Hell, if I was already getting worked up, it was going to be a long dinner. I’d managed to obey his instructions not to get off, but reading through all the information over the weekend, and even talking about some of it with Bailey, had wound me tight enough to feel constantly on edge.
I took a calming breath and reached for the panties he’d included—a little triangle of satin that barely covered anything. I was surprised he’d even given them to me. I figured any guy, given the chance, would have a girl wear nothing at all beneath her dress. But after I slipped them on and headed to the other side of my bedroom to get the black belt and heels he’d provided, I realized exactly why he’d chosen the panties. The fabric instantly molded to my freshly shaven skin and the wetness that seemed to be ever present since I’d gotten home, making me that much more aware of my arousal. I groaned and ventured a glance toward my bedside drawer, where my handy-dandy vibrator was stored.
