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“Hey,” I grunted. “I need a robe.”
The blonde winked slyly.
“I have just the thing, Mr. McGrath,” Amelia purred again. “Let me show you.”
The young woman led me to a rack in back filled with lace fripperies, silky things that were barely two inches long and three inches wide. What the fuck? Even crazier, this shit cost five hundred bucks. Were they kidding me? Hell, I should go into the lingerie business because this was clearly a high margin industry.
Amelia pulled a silky robe off its hanger, and then another one. She pulled quite a few items actually: a pink thing, then a purple one, the array dizzying, all sorts of colors with lace and embroidery in tasteful patterns.
But this was a delivery and the customer could be a sixty year old crone for all I knew. So I picked one that was middle of the pack, decently long, pink satin with a tie at the waist.
“I’ll take it,” I grunted and Amelia cooed.
“Excellent choice, Mr. McGrath. I’ll ring it up for you. Should I gift wrap it?” she asked, fluttering her lashes. I shook my head tiredly.
“Not this time, thanks,” I said and Amelia was off, her fingers flying at the register, her long nails click-clacking on the keyboard. Finally, she folded the silk into a tiny square and deposited it in a fancy bag.
“Here you go!” she chirped. “And here’s your receipt,” she said, handing me a slip of paper with a wink.
I grabbed it, crumpling it in my hand. But once outside, I took a glance as bile rose in my throat. It wasn’t the purchase price that was shocking. It was the fact that the salesgirl had drawn a heart on the receipt and added her name and phone number. What the fuck? Even worse, this wasn’t the first time. Amelia did this last time too, and I’d ignored it, grinding my teeth at the come-on. She was absolutely not my type with her skinny blonde frame and the nails like Cruella de Ville. Clearly, this chick couldn’t get a clue, and I was ready to barrel right back in there and chew her out.
But fuck. There was no time because I needed to make my delivery. Jaw set with frustration, I got back on the bike, strapping the stuff to the back. What the fuck was wrong with females in this city? They threw themselves at me right and left, and you know what? I was over it. I was looking for curvy and round, with heft and some real weight. I wanted creamy flesh to grab and hold, not to mention big tits and wide hips that swung. In this city of skinny minnies, it was fucking hard to find too. Can you believe it? In this city of fifteen million, I couldn’t find a sassy, curvy girl to meet my needs.
3
Tucker
Ipulled up in front of a dilapidated tenement building, the kind of thing that hadn’t been renovated in seventy years. The window frames sagged, and the interior hallway was dirty and ragged with years of caked-on dirt. A sad row of metal mailboxes lined up against the side, their locks more often busted than not.
Seeing that the lingerie and soaps had cost a pretty penny, I was surprised to be dropping them off at such a down-and-out location. But then again, New Yorkers are a weird bunch. It’s such an expensive city that people splurge on the little things to make life more bearable – expensive shampoo, smokes for a deep drag, shit, even cocaine sometimes. That’s the beauty and yet also the downfall of the city.
But it wasn’t my place to judge because I’m just the delivery guy. So I bolted up the five flights, stopping at a run-down landing which showcased three doors. Looking at the address, I knocked on 5A, the one furthest to the left. The paint on the door was peeling, and there were multiple long scratches on the wall. It looked like someone dragged their refrigerator against the wall, scraping the paint off.
I was expecting some middle-aged lady to materialize. But instead, the girl who answered the door took my breath away because she was delicious. The door cracked open and a pair of big brown eyes peeped out, topped by a mass of curls swept in a messy topknot.
“Hi,” came a breathy voice as an arm extended awkwardly around the door. “Can you just hand it to me?”
“Sure,” I said, my senses on alert. If I wasn’t mistaken, the girl’s awkward attempts to hide herself were because she was nude. I could see that the arm was attached to a bare shoulder, and the way she cowered behind the wooden slab was pretty telling body language in and of itself.
“But ma’am,” I said wryly. “I’m going to need your signature.”
The girl sighed, a gusty exasperated breath.
“Can you just forge my signature for me?” she asked. “Please?”
I shook my head, almost laughing. Honestly, if she’d said, “Could you sign for me?” or “Please draw an X on my behalf,” I would have been happy to. Sometimes people aren’t in a position where they can sign because of a medical disorder, and I’ve signed for customers more than once. But the way Ms. Holmes had phrased it, “Can you forge my signature?” basically made it impossible. Nah, I didn’t want to go to jail and besides, I was curious.
So I shook my head, getting my electronic pad out.
“Sorry ma’am,” I growled. “No can do.”
There was some shuffling from behind the door as well as another exasperated sigh. This time, it an exhale of Titanic proportions.
“Okay okay, I’ll do it then,” came the voice and the girl appeared from behind the door … butt naked except for a pair of jeans wrapped around her middle. My mouth dropped open because she was the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. Curvy with huge boobs, a fat ass and wide, swinging hips. The denim did nothing to hide her generous proportions because she was Venus de Milo come to life. My cock punched out immediately, my staff rock hard at the miles of creamy flesh before me, barely covered, side boob, under boob, top boob, all on display coupled with a tiny bit of pussy hair right where the denim stopped, the material unable to hide much.
“Sorry,” she muttered, looking down, trying to shake her hair forward to hide her face while biting her lip. “I just moved and can’t find anything,” she gestured to a mountain of boxes within the apartment. But that movement caused everything to go awry. The jeans slipped despite the girl’s effort to keep them clutched under her armpits, falling to the ground in a crumpled pile and suddenly she was slickly nude before me, everything showing: cunt, tits, ass, everything. There were miles of creamy flesh trembling and jiggling.
I did what any red-blooded man would have done if his girl was naked in public. I stepped into the apartment, slamming the door behind me, protecting her from the eyes of inquisitive neighbors or anyone else who might stumble by. Because she was mine. This little brunette with the pink nips and beautifully flushed pussy was mine,allmine.
