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Ignoring my body's response, I hightail it to the bedroom and grab a short floral dress I usually pair with dark leggings. Fall has been warmer than usual this year, but it's nearly the end of October and there's a nip in the air despite the bright blue sky.
The dress hits me a few inches above the knee but I don't put on my usual leggings. Instead, I toss a pair of thigh-highs on the bed beside the dress. They have elastic at the top to hold them in place and I won't have to wear a garter belt.
The scooped bodice of the dress shows off my cleavage while the stretchy fabric clings to my curves. The a-line skirt drapes flatteringly over my ample bottom and hips.
I would normally wear yoga pants and a sweater to run errands. After leaving Detroit, I stopped dressing up to leave the house. I'm no longer a capo's daughter-in-law, constantly under scrutiny.
Here, I am simply me. A woman who doesn't have to impress anybody when I'm out and about. That doesn't mean I'm wearing my yoga pants to hang out with Atlas though. I guess I still have some vanity.
I put my long hair up so it won't get wet, before stepping into the shower. Washing quickly, but thoroughly, I'm finished and drying off less than fifteen minutes later.
While I'd love to luxuriate in my own body right now, I'd rather be with the man who made me feel so decadent to begin with.
Besides there really is no luxuriating in my small shower cubicle.
That doesn't mean I rush through getting ready.
Apparently, my inner sex kitten wants to look her best for the man who gives such copious and amazing orgasms.
Chapter 4
LUCIA
Atlas offers to drive and I let him. I'd planned to run my errands using the MAX and taking a rideshare home once I picked up the boxes.
He presses the button on his key fob to unlock the doors on a shiny black metallic BMW X7.
Opening the door for me, he gives me a hand up so I can slide into the leather passenger seat of an SUV nicer than the don's. I'm surprised Atlas felt comfortable leaving this vehicle parked in the unsecure lot overnight.
Put the luxury SUV together with Atlas's designer clothes and shoes, and that spells serious money. His own? Or his family's?
It doesn't matter to me. I'm not looking for a sugar-daddy. Or even a boyfriend. Heck, until last night, I didn't think I was looking for a sex partner either. I might change my mind about the boyfriend thing. We'll see how this goes. For the first time in years, I have breathing room and can consider the possibility.
The fact that I want to? I blame on my ovaries.
Maybe a little on his amazing sex skills too.
Pulling into traffic, he says, "Tell me about your house."
"It's a ranch style house built in 1957, but the kitchen is fully updated."
"What about the wiring and plumbing?"
"Oh, that too, but it still has its original charm. The carpet someone used to cover the floors in the 1970s has been pulled up and it has hardwood throughout. There's an extra half bath and a laundry room."
I have a stackable washer and dryer in my place, but it's in a closet with no space to hang things up when I pull them out of the dryer. It's funny the things you learn to miss that you've taken for granted your whole life.
I don't miss having a maid, or bodyguards, but a place to bake? That I can't wait to have again.
"The garage has been converted into a family room too."
"Where will you park your car?" he asks, like he doesn't see that as a bonus.
"Well, if I had one, I could park it in the driveway."
"You don't have a car?"
"No."
