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I know I sure in hell do.I looked at my plate, which was empty. “I don’t think I’ll need to eat for the rest of the day,” I joked. She smiled and I waved for the waitress to come over with the check.
As the waitress approached, PJ must have decided she wanted to help the woman, because she picked up her plate. I reached out and touched her hand. I only meant for her to put the dish back down, but instead, I clipped the side of the plate and it flipped in PJ’s direction. My reflexes weren’t as sharp as usual with all the carbs I’d just piled in, and instead of grabbing it, I accidentally pushed the plate against PJ’s chest.
When she pulled it away, there was a little bit of everything on her, and a whole lot of syrup.
“Damn. I’m sorry. I was…” I stammered, “trying to help.”
PJ looked down at her chest and started to pluck the remnants of food off her shirt. “I think you can safely cross busboy off your list of skills, too,” she stated.
The waitress just shook her head and said, “I’d offer to bring you more napkins, but I think that is beyond what we can clean up here.”
“I think you’re right. I need to change,” PJ said. I paid the bill, and on the way back to her hotel, I apologized profusely. When I parked the Jeep, she looked at me and said, “This might take a bit. You might as well come up and wait.”
I followed her to her room, and once again, sat in the only chair. This time I heard the shower turn on. There was no question that syrup had made its way into her hair as well. I never do anything half-ass. Even when I fuck up, I go all the way.
I’d never been good at sitting still, and if she was in the shower, I might be waiting a long time. I pulled out my cell phone and answered a few emails, but didn’t get a chance to do anything more than that.
The bathroom door opened and PJ popped her head out. “Clark, I have an issue and need your help.”
I think I’ve done enough damage.
“Anything. What do you need?” I asked.
She grinned and said, “You might not want to be so agreeable until you hear my request.”
“Since you’re in this predicament because of me, I think it’s safe to say, I owe you,” I stated. With any luck, all she needs is my help washing her back.
She stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. Holding out her bra she said, “It wasn’t just my t-shirt that got soaked with syrup. This thing is so sticky, it’s going to take a lot more than washing it out in the sink.”
“I can see that. Do you need me to get you your other one?” I asked, not sure what else she could need me to do.
“That’s my problem. I don’t have one. I was only supposed to be here for a few days.”
“I’m sorry. What exactly would you like me to do?” I asked.
She held the bra out to me and said, “Go to the store and pick one up for me. I can’t go out like this.”
I didn’t reach out for the bra and instead replied, “I wouldn’t suggest you do. A towel is a bit…underdressed.”
She shook her head and added, “It’s still better than a t-shirt. That won’t leave much to anyone’s imagination. Especially in the cool morning air.”
I could picture her perky nipples being pressed against the thin fabric, and how good they’d feel against my bare chest, too. Fuck. Don’t go there. At this rate, she wasn’t the only one who would need a shower.
“You’re asking me to go…shopping for a bra for you?” I asked, still hoping I was hearing things.
She nodded. “I wear a 34 DD. I don’t care what color. I’ll make do with whatever you pick out.”
There had to be another option. I’ve never gone into the ladies’ department to shop for anything, not even a gift. “Are you sure you can’t? Maybe, cross your arms so no one notices you don’t have a bra on?”
PJ chuckled. “One minute.”
She walked over to her suitcase, opened it up and pulled out another t-shirt. Then she turned around so her back was to me. I held my breath as she let the towel drop to the floor and slipped the shirt over her head. When she turned around to face me, she was right, those lovely big breasts of hers weren’t going anywhere without a bra. At least, not if I could help it.
In a husky tone I said, “Thirty-four DD.” She nodded. “You shower and I’ll be back.”
I left the room without taking her bra with me. There were options, like I could call any one of the ladies back at the camp for help. But the less they knew the better. I headed for the one store I knew would be open. It sold sporting goods. She said she didn’t care about color. Let’s hope she also doesn’t care about style.
An hour later I was back at her hotel with a sports bra with a camo pattern. She held it up, wrinkled her nose as though she wasn’t so sure about it. She shrugged and said, “Well, at least it’s the right size.” Before she headed back into the bathroom to finish getting dressed, she said jokingly, “By the way, you can add shopping to that list of yours, too.”
