I’ll admit, I was horny. It had been much too long since I had felt sweet release in the arms of a woman. So when I saw the perky, auburn-haired goddess flipping casually through the intimates at Target, I was instantly hard.
She wore little make-up, relying on her naturally roughish cheeks and long lashes for comeliness. Her hair was in a ponytail which bounced in a loose curl against the back of her slender neck. She wore a bright salmon-colored tank top that sheathed her narrow waist and gripped a pair of cantaloup breasts. Black yoga pants with a matching salmon stripe down the legs framed little, round buns that I couldn’t take my eyes off.
She seemed to be deciding between a see-through pink teddy and a crisscross of black satin lace. I crossed the aisle from the Men's Department and tried to appear casual.
"I like the pink," I said.
She turned toward me. Her eyes were a lively green and her lips looked delicious. She looked me over, lingering on my broad shoulders. She held up the teddy to her torso. "You think?"
I didn't look at the teddy. I locked eyes with her and took a step closer. "Absolutely. Although there's only one way to be sure."
"And what's that?" she smiled, already knowing the answer.
"I would have to see them on you."
She dropped the pink one into her basket and closed the remaining distance between us. She put a hand on my shoulder and stood on her tiptoes so that she could whisper in my ear. She smelled terrific and her light, feminine touch sent a shock wave straight to my balls. "Thank you for your interest, handsome. You just made my day. But I'm buying these for someone else."
Then she turned and sashayed away.
Dejected and limp, I headed toward the beer aisle. I was going to go home and drown my sorrows. Maybe watch some pity porn.
At the checkout, she was two lines over, facing away from me, talking on the phone. It seemed to be an important conversation, or at least a secretive one. She kept cupping her hand over the phone.
I paid for the beer and walked to my car. Opening the driver's door, I heard a voice behind me.
"I bought them both."
My stomach tightened. I turned to face her and my cock returned to attention.
"I'm Claire."
"Rick."
“Look, Rick. I talked to my, um, my lover, and got permission for you to give fashion advice. I would love for you to help me choose which nighty would be best for my sex life. Can you follow me home?”
“I— Yes— Absolutely. Will he be there?”
"Who?"
"Your boyfriend."
She flashed the most devilish smile. “No.”
Her apartment was a trendy studio loft with a curtain that separated the bedroom from the rest of the space. The curtain was open. The bed wasn’t made. The sheets were satin.
She put her shopping bag on the kitchen counter and I tried to make small talk. “Nice place. Lived here long?”
She answered politely but kept smiling at me as if I was asking all the wrong questions. She pulled the negligee out of the bag, stepped around the kitchen island, and held them up to her front one at a time.
“So hard to tell,” I said. “I mean, those aren’t meant to be worn over yoga pants.”
“You’re the expert,” she winked. “Go in there and I’ll be in in a minute.” She motioned toward the bed. “Which one first?”
“Black,” I said over my shoulder, walking toward the satin sheets.
I decided to keep my clothes on. After all, she had only officially asked for my advice, not for my cock. I was sitting on the bed when she appeared between the curtains.
She was stunning. The ponytail was gone and her rust-colored hair coiled over her shoulders in beautiful open spools. Her eyes shone with mischief and her cheeks were flush. I was smitten before I even looked below her neck, but when I did I thought I would split my pants with the erection it gave me.
Six thin, silky ribbons descended from her shoulders, spreading out beneath her luscious hair and fanning across her bosom. They formed a frame for her nipples, pink and erect. Her tits posed atop a torso that swum to the left because of the way she stood there, hips pushed out to one side. I traced the curves of her fit tummy down to a matrix of more crisscrossed ribbon that swaddled her hips. Between the diagonal grid of black stripes, a tiny wrinkle of pussy peaked out, inviting me into her. I realized I had stopped breathing.
