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When he opened it, a digital picture frame stared back at him. Milton removed it from the box and underneath there was a blue card, like the one that had been taped to the front of the box. His instructions.
In thick black marker he read:
Choose one. Text me the description. Pick me up tonight at ten sharp. A
Choose one? Milton sat the digital frame on the desk and clicked the power button. When it powered up a slideshow began. A slideshow of Amie, clad in nothing but lingerie. Picture after picture of promiscuous poses and sexy outfits stared back at him. Amie in a black teddy, complete with garters and stockings. Amie in a light blue see-through material, only a tiny g-string underneath. Amie in a pale pink, frilly bustier with ruffled panties, a lollipop in her mouth. And his favorite by far, Amie in a leather bustier and leather short shorts, a black fedora on top of her straight blond hair.
Milton grabbed at his cock. He knew exactly what outfit he wanted to see in the flesh. But first, before he texted his decision, it was his turn for release.
Chapter 10
Amie directed Milton to turn left into a parking lot. He had to blink, once, twice, to make sure he wasn’t imagining the sign that stared back at him. Bright neon lights flickered in the night air, calling out to all men within a five kilometer radius. Solid Gold. The outline of a naked woman, first upright, then bent in half, then bent all the way over exposing her bottom, glowed beside the name.
“A strip club? We’re going to a strip club for our date.”
“Yep.”
“I haven’t been to a strip club since University. I think the last time Aleks…never mind.”
“Good call.”
Milton parked the car and turned off the engine. Removing the keys from the ignition he asked, “Are you serious? Is this some sort of test?”
“Test?”
“Don’t girls hate strip clubs? Are you expecting me to say ‘no, I don’t need to go in there, you’re enough for me’ or something?”
Amie snickered. “Don’t be so dramatic. We’re here to have a little fun.”
Milton took in the sight of the beautiful woman sitting beside him. “You look different tonight.” Beautiful, but different. Her eyes were darker, or the makeup around her eyes was darker, more intense. Red tinged her cheeks and the usual clear shine to her lips had been replaced with lipstick, a red matte finish.
“You don’t like it?” For a split second the confident woman that never apologized for her brazen attitude was replaced by an uncertain look.
“I love it,” he answered. “You look sexy and mysterious, and I don’t think I want to take you into that club knowing how good you look.”
She snickered, and the uncertain look disappeared. “I thought you like making other men jealous with a beautiful woman on your arm?”
That he did. Or he did with any woman but Amie. “You’re right.”
“Come on, handsome.” Amie placed her hand on the door latch. “Get ready to feel the jealousy.”
Milton followed her across the parking lot. She was even dressed differently tonight. Thigh-high boots encased her trim legs, and she covered her body with a black jacket tied tightly around her waist. It was a major detour from the t-shirts, yoga pants and jeans she could usually be found in.
They walked into the dark club. Milton nodded at the bouncer who allowed them immediate entry. The bass of the music pumped, reverberating off the walls, settling as a thump in his chest. He smelled sweat and sex and…Amie. Her scent wafted behind her, filling his nostrils, turning a dingy hole in the wall strip club into a sensory heaven.
A waitress called out, “Amie!” and motioned for them to take a seat.
Small round tables were scattered throughout the room, flanking a large stage where a brunette twisted and twirled on the pole. The waitress removed a tent card from the table where she had reserved their spot. Was Amie a regular? M
aybe she was a little more wild than he anticipated. Did she like women too?
“Hi, honey. Everything’s ready for you.”
“Thanks, Ginger. This is Milton. Milton, this is my friend Ginger.”
She held out her hand and shook his with a good grip. He couldn’t help but notice her breasts that spilled out of her tight corset and the matching thong that bared an attractive ass. And of course, if it wasn’t her occupation that gave away her name, it was the color of her hair, fire engine red.
“Nice to meet you, Ginger.”
