‘I
bet you want me in itty bitty thongs, don’t you?’ I
giggled.
‘Nope. I don’t
have a thing for
string.’ He turned slightly so that his back was to the
counter and anyone
watching, and lowered his voice to a warm murmur. ‘What I like is
those ones with the full
panel of lace at the front, all sweet and pretty, and then you turn
around and
at the back they’re cut high so that your beautiful round bum
cheeks peek out
from beneath the lace band, almost bared.’ He was starting to
sound a little
throaty. ‘It’s like the curtain going up on the
stage at the theatre. Oh god,
Nikki, that just drives me crazy.’
‘Everything drives you
crazy,’ I
countered as he brushed up against me, gentle but very deliberate.
'Everything
about you, anyway.’ He
took my hand – the one not laden with hangers full of
frillies – and pressed it
reverently to the front of his jeans. He had a semi on already
– a hard curve
of flesh that surged up against the fabric and against my fingers. He
wanted me
but bad, I had to admit, and that eagerness was arousing in the most
primal
way. I licked my
lips. I wanted to rub
him harder, but a department store wasn’t exactly the right
place.
Plot: Non-supernatural. A new couple, Nikki and Oliver, are out shopping before Valentine's day. Oliver takes her into a lingerie shop and, promising to show her what the symbolism of the Valentine heart really means, drags her into a changing cubicle...
Sexual Themes: straight
Notes: This one had a very definable source. I was going to a fancy dress party and I needed some underwear - specifially one of those fifties-style wide suspender belts that covers your whole tum. So I trawled round every lingerie shop in town - expensive boutiques, cheap-n-cheerful knicker shops, M&S, La Senza, Ann Summers .... all with no joy. But I did discover that the dull old department store in the middle of the high street - the one so old-fashioned that no one under fifty would dream of shopping there - the one that sold wigs and Wedgewood sets - had this amazing underwear department. All sorts of bras and control garments and lacy frilly things, with foreign labels, at eye-watering prices. Clearly the middle-aged and middle-class of the city had a good thing going on here. And it was nearly empty on a weekday afternoon, with no security around the changing cubicles. What a useful setting for a story, thought I! A week later, the excuse to write it showed up in my e-mail inbox.
:-)
Oliver and Nikki have a disagreement in this story about to whom it is appropriate to send a Valentine's card. This is based on a friend of mine. She was shocked that I didn't send my mother a card for Valentine's Day, because that was something everyone in her family did and she and her siblings would never get away with forgetting. On my side, I was amazed that you would send a Valentine's card to anyone without a declared sexual or romantic interest in them. Hey, every family has its own rules.
This was my first story for Xcite, and was done on request. It's also my first "shopping and fucking" story - a genre I do not normally appreciate. Shopping for clothes is my idea of mild torture (shopping for shoes is severe torture. Did I ever claim to be like other women?) Though if I had a guy like Oliver to do it with, I might be more enthusiastic.
