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Chapter Four
“Here.”Polly thrust a miniscule lacy bra at Alice. “Wait—this one’s gorgeous too. Try both.”
They’d only been in the lingerie department at Myer for five minutes and already Alice was almost buried under scraps of lace and silk held together with wire and annoying little hooks that would take her forever to do up.
Polly had the look of a kid in a candy store as she zigzagged between the rows of bras and panties, her fingers flicking gleefully through the garments.
Considering Alice normally went to Target and grabbed cotton T-shirt bras, the same ones she’d been buying since she’d finally made it to a B cup at seventeen, this was all completely new and, frankly, daunting territory.
“Okay, start with these, and if they don’t work, we’ll progress.”
“How long is this going to take?” Alice glanced nervously at her watch over the pile in her arms and a couple of bras slithered to the floor. “I’ve put the back-in-ten-minutes sign up. Mum would hate it.”
Polly gave her an exasperated look as she picked up the bras. “Your mum is on the other side of the world and you’re worried she’ll notice if you close the shop on a Monday when there’s never any customers? Think of me, I’ve got to help our occupational therapist run a macramé group on the ward this afternoon.”
Alice brightened. She would love to try her hand at macramé. All those lovely hanging plant holders that cost so much in posh interior design shops. “Lucky you. Can you teach me later?”
Polly glowered. “Not on your life, you know I hate craft. Unless you call applying nail polish a craft. Call me when you’ve decided on the top three, I’ll be looking at the Spanx. I need to get something to hold back the tummy tide.”
Alice rolled her eyes. Polly’s curves were beautiful. Not that she’d always felt this way. When Polly came to work at the Book Genie when they were teenagers, Alice had been terrified of this beautiful, gum-chewing creature squeezed into jeans and midriff-baring tops, with her red lips and purple nails. She was like all the popular girls at school who ignored Alice. Which was why when Polly actually talked to her, let alone seemed to want to spend time with her, it had seemed weird. At first she’d resisted the friendship, pretending she wasn’t jealous when she caught guys covertly glancing at Polly from behind their copies ofThe Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. They all bypassed Alice, even though she knew so much more about books than Polly, just to ask Polly where the business section was (despite the fact it was staring at them in big bold letters because Alice had spent hours re-doing the signs). But of course, none of them actuallywantedbooks on assets and mergers, they just wanted to gawk at Polly’s assets.
In her cubicle, Alice undid her shirt buttons one by one and stared at her own modest assets neatly encased in white cotton. How was she going to make these stand out? They were so unspectacular. She undid her bra and slipped it off. Hesitantly, she ran the palms of both hands over her nipples. They peaked into two hard little pebbles. She shivered as an image of Aaron’s hand cupping one of her breasts, his thumb pad rolling over one tip, sprang into her head.
Blushing wildly, she grabbed the first bra. It was a gorgeous shade of deep blue with a tiny pearl-studded rose between the cups. She struggled with the clasp but finally, surveying herself in the mirror, marvelled at how her breasts seemed suddenly so rounded and, well…lush.Something stirred inside her. That treacly warm sensation that had been a rather constant companion since Sunday at the art gallery with Aaron.
They’d got over the embarrassing flirting discussion at dinner and had moved on to drama series as they walked back to her house. They always had robust discussions over whether the English made the best shows. Aaron was heavily into Nordic noire. Alice liked period dramas, was onto her second re-run ofDownton Abbey, and would likely watch an episode or two to take her mind off Aaron later. They both agreed that the English had the advantage when it came to black comedy—something about their ability to combine humour with just the right dose of pathos. By the time they’d reached the steps up to her veranda, Alice was relieved they seemed to have got back into the swing of their usual banter. She’d flicked the light switch before realising the porch lamp had broken, and there ensued an awkward minute or two while she scrabbled in her bag for her keys and their breathing seemed to be amplified. Eventually Aaron suggested her coat pocket and sure enough, the big plastic key fob in the shape of a Rubik’s Cube was in there. She’d smiled ruefully up at him and in the semi-dark, the glint in his eyes had made her heart do a crazy flip.
After that, she’d scurried inside, purposefully not asking him in for a hot chocolate, saying she was “dead beat” with a big yawn and had an early start, to which Aaron replied he’d be pumping iron at the gym at 6 a.m. so wouldn’t have stayed anyhow.
She’d had to rapidly shut down the image of Aaron in T-shirt and shorts, all sweaty and panting, to avoid any more hot flushes.
“Have you decided?” Polly’s voice jogged her back to the present.
“I’ve only had time to try the blue one.”
“There’s five others.”
“I like the blue one.” Alice gave her reflection another admiring glance. “I could buy two like this.”
Polly groaned. “Try the red and black one.”
“Oh god, I’d look like a harlot.”
“Harlot is very in at the moment, I’ve heard.”
Alice stuck her head out from behind the curtain. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Your weird Victorian vernacular? Possibly.” Polly stood back with her hands on her hips. “If you want an opinion, I do need to see more than your face.”
Alice drew the curtain back a smidge. Polly gave a tug. Alice stopped her shoulders from drooping, a habit from too much reading combined with an abject lack of self-confidence. Nevertheless, she couldn’t stop her hands from clasping in front of her belly to preserve some sense of modesty.
“Very pretty.” Polly nodded approvingly. “I think that’s a definite seduction starter.”
“Won’t it show through if I wear light colours?”
“Yep, hopefully. We’ll find something silky in a lighter blue and with this underneath it’s bound to ‘pop’ enough to tantalise Aaron’s tastebuds.”
“I can’t wear something see-through to drinks with Aaron’s bosses!”
