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Placing it on the counter, I turned to her as she dug in her fridge for the milk.
Her ass was swaying back and forth, as she dug for the half gallon that she’d buried earlier when she was looking for something to make for dinner.
The outline of her thong, in her tight gray shorts, was drawing my eyes and making my imagination take off. Was she wearing those cute little black panties with the tiny pink bow on the top, or the red ones with the black lip imprints all over them?
I was so distracted while I was thinking that I missed her question.
“Hey!” She snapped.
My eyes finally focused on her face, and I blinked, bringing her back into focus.
“Did you hear what I said?” She asked with concern.
Bringing my hand up to my face, I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and pointer finger. “Sorry,” I said. “What did you ask?”
“Chocolate or vanilla?” She repeated.
Her hair was still in its ponytail, but now the sweat on her face had dried, making the stray locks surrounding her head curl.
“Is your hair curly?” I blurted.
She grimaced. “When it wants to be. Most of the time it’s frizzy with a side of curl. That’s why I keep it in a ponytail most of the time.”
Then she shook the chocolate syrup at me in question.
I shook my head in answer. “I’m a vanilla kind of guy. I don’t do artificial additives. If you do it right, vanilla’s all you need.”
I hadn’t meant it to sound so...sexual, but it most assuredly came out that way, and if the look in her eyes was any indication, I’d made a point, and I hadn’t even meant to.
“Jesus, it’s those fucking shorts. Why are they so goddamned tight?” I burst out.
She giggled, making my heart thaw slightly after the shit day I’d had.
“They have to be tight. That way they stay in place when I run, keeping my thighs from chafing,” she laughed.
I stayed far away from the whole ‘chafing’ part, sensing the trap that was inevitable.
“Alright, what do you need me to do?” I asked.
***
An hour later, Channing was dressed in her simple black scrubs, ready to go to work, and eating a bowl of ice cream.
“Where do you work?” I asked. “Why did I think you did hair?”
No hairdresser I knew of worked this late at night. Nor did any wear scrubs.
“I do dead people.”
I let that hang there in the air for a minute, and then laughed until I saw that she was serious.
“Say what?” I asked skeptically.
She smiled cryptically and then took a long slow lick of her ice cream. “You want to come with me tonight?”
Chapter 10
I need a prince on the streets, and a beast between the sheets.
