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"Right. But I'm feeling…I'm feeling like if you turn this into a joke—"
"It's not a joke, Becca," he said, reaching for my hands. "It's serious for me too. Maybe the most serious thing I've ever done with a girl before. I've gone to a lot of trouble to prove something to you and to myself, so you can trust me."
I did. I really did trust him. Even with something this big. Something I wouldn't have trusted anybody else with. Which was a really strangely erotic feeling. My whole body was atingle following him to the motel room, watching him fiddle with the keys.
I think he was nervous—maybe as nervous as I was—but he was doing a good job of hiding it. And I needed him to.
Once inside, I took off my coat and Ben blinked. Then he blinked again. "Wow. You look…"
I glanced down at myself in the green retro-dress I'd pulled out of the back of my closet—the one that had pleats of chiffon but was in no way revealing. I guess I'd chosen the outfit defensively. An outfit as at odds with what we'd come here to do as possible. As if my inner good-girl, if she existed, was screaming out her last hurrah. "Like a virgin?"
Ben dug his hands into his pockets. "I was going to say that you take my breath away."
"Oh." I trailed off, ridiculously pleased. "You think I should wear it for…"
"No," Ben said, his soulful eyes glittering. "I think you wore this dress for me. Wear the one in the box for him…"
"Righ
t," I said, because that somehow made sense. And because if I said anything else, I'd have to think about this mysterious him that was allegedly coming to have sex with me. "How long before he gets here?"
"About twenty minutes. You can change in the bathroom," Ben said, gentlemanly to the last.
I wanted to just strip right in front of him and tackle him down onto the rickety little bed. But he'd asked me to do whatever he said for the next few hours and I felt like I wanted to honor that. Besides, it was a huge turn on.
I slipped into the shabby bathroom with the box of slutty clothes and slipped into the leather, which actually fit like a glove. The shoes were too small and pinched my toes, but I didn't expect that I'd be wearing them long.
Then I took a look in the chipped mirror.
The mini-dress hugged the bottom of my ass, but stopped short enough to show off the tops of my black thigh-high stockings. I looked like…well…I looked like a hooker. Which was exactly the idea. And to make sure that I looked as hot as I felt, I took my make-up out of my bag and added a little more. Red lipsticks for my smirky lips. Black kohl for under my eyes. Then I pulled my straight black hair up into a sassy pony tail.
I looked like sex on a stick; I knew I did. So I tottered out of the bathroom on the too-tight too-tall lucite stilettos, and posed in the doorway. "Hey, Soldier. What do you think?"
Ben had been at the window, looking out over the snow-covered parking lot. Turning to glance my way, he flushed, redness crawling up his neck to his ears. "I think—I think I'm having a heart attack. Jesus, Christ, I'd better sit down before my knees give out."
His reaction turned my personal thermostat all the way up. "So which do you like better? The good girl outfit or the bad girl outfit?"
"Why do I have to choose?" Ben lowered to the edge of the bed as if his knees really were wobbly. He didn't bother to hide that he was hard beneath his jeans—his cock straining against the denim. "Especially since what I really want is to undress you…"
That made me curious. "So why'd you pick the leather dress?"
"I wanted to see something tight and smooth on your sweet ass…"
"And the thigh highs?"
His eyes traveled to the length of my stockinged leg. "Because the peeks of the lace just below your skirt—that's just where I want to nibble your inner thigh. And lingerie drives me a little crazy."
"Good to know," I said, tucking it away for my mental file. "What about the shoes?"
"I got them because they're slutty."
I grinned. "They really are. Is that what you're into, Ben? Slutty girls?"
"Just one," Ben said, mischief in his eyes. "C'mere."
"I dunno if I can."
His face fell. "Why not?"
