11. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Emery

I empty my pockets of my phone, the cash, and a lip balm, and place them all on the chair. Then I toe off my worn sneakers and strip down to my underwear, leaving a pile of frayed and threadbare fabric on the floor.

My reflection stares back at me. I return the stare candidly, trying to see myself as though it's for the first time. Probably thinner than I should be, but at least it makes my tits stand out. I've always had a decent handful, with dusky pink nipples surrounded by creamy flesh. My ribcage dips into a thin waist and my hip bones protrude a little.

Nothing a few days of eating like Oakley won't cure.

Reaching for the hanger, I very gently untangle the straps and the little extra ribbon things that make the lingerie hang prettily. Gathering it into my hands, I marvel at how the lace is even more delicate than it looks, before I lift one foot and slide the fabric up my leg.

I do the same with the other leg, and as carefully as possible, I work it up and around my body. The lace feels like a second skin; Lisa evidently picked my size perfectly. Once I have the straps in place, I go about straightening everything and, can I just say, having nothing but a thick piece of black satin protecting your tits from the air conditioning is fucking weird.

The satin is slightly too loose, so I undo the bow and, yep, there are my nipples. I do my best to replicate the pretty bow, but it turns out lopsided.

"How are we doing in here?"

I roll my eyes at the use of the royal we . "Ah, good, I think. But I ruined the bow."

"Mind if I pop in and take a look?"

"Sure."

The red velvet is scooped to the side, and then I am not so alone in the fitting room. "Oh, that looks amazing on you!"

If I hadn't seen her eyebrows pop up in the reflection, I would have assumed that it was salespeople one-oh-one coming out of her mouth. But, no, I think she really means it. "Ah, thanks."

Lisa smiles and nods before raising her hands in front of her, eyes darting down to the ribbon and then back up to my face. "May I?"

I give consent by turning to face her.

"If you could put your hands on your hips . . ."

She trails off as I do as asked, my attention firmly focused on one of the little gold hooks attached to the wall behind her head. The black satin loosens, but she only undoes the bunny-rabbit ears, leaving the under knot in place.

Her fingers brush against my skin, and I do my absolute best not to think about it.

"So, special occasion or . . .?"

"Ah." I reply with a drag on the syllable, because fuck, what am I supposed to say?

Oh yeah, totally a special occasion. I'm going to let four old dudes fuck my brains out for a few hours, then they are going to shower me in cash. Yep.

No. So, I go with yet another lie.

Because what's one more?

"No special occasion, just wanted to get something cute to surprise my boyfriend with."

She smirks at me, with that knowing look only a woman can give. "He's not going to know what hit him."

Because I know she is expecting it, I grin and nod. "Right?"

Turning back to the mirror, I assess myself critically—tugging at the fabric here, fixing the strap there. Yeah, I can see my underwear through the lace, and when I turn around to look at the back, the thong nestles between my ass cheeks but doesn't actually slip in.

"We actually have a sale running today. Buy one piece, get the second half off," Lisa offers casually. "If you like, I can go and see if I can find a few other things that might look good on you. I think a dark purple or a red would work well with your skin tone. You said you wanted some negligees?"

I hum in response, fishing out the price tag. Before I take a look, I steel myself for a number that is going to be obscene for how little fabric I am wearing.

And, oh, yep. I was right.

One hundred and sixty-four dollars, plus tax.

Jesus fucking H Christ.

But, it's okay. I have the five hundred from Oakley and there will be enough left over to get a teddy bear or something. And in twenty-four hours, I'll have 10K in my account. I release a heavy breath. Yes to more pieces. And this way, if I want or need to do this whole thing all over again, I'll already have the right wardrobe for it.

"Ah, yes, please," I finally answer, agreeing to whatever. Lisa obviously knows what she's doing, and rather than looking like an idiot floundering around out there, I'll just wait and get her to do all the work for me.

She disappears from the room, and I'm left standing there, staring at myself mostly naked, and I have to suppress the urge to laugh. How is this my fucking life right now?

I reach for my phone and decide that a little teasing is in order. Holding up my phone, I snap a picture of the empty coat hanger, and then I sit on the chair and stretch my legs out in front of me, angling my knees a little. When I take the second picture, the angle of the camera makes it look like I'm naked.

Perfect.

I quickly open the app and send the two pictures.

I put the phone on the cushion behind me and glance down at myself. Should I be taking this off right now? Will Lisa care if I'm naked? Well, topless. Probably not, right? She's probably seen more tits than a regular at a strip club.

Careful not to jostle the ribbon, I get the bodysuit off and carefully put it back on the hanger.

Then I just stand there with nothing but my reflection to distract me.

Just as I start to feel uncomfortable, there is a tap on the side of my cubicle. "Can I come in?"

I cross my arms and cover my nipples from her view. "Yeah."

Neither of us make eye contact as she hangs up three new outfits for me. "Put one of these on and then call out. I'll be waiting just outside."

As soon as the curtain flutters back into place, I reach up for the deep purple see-through dress thingy. A negligee? Is that what she called it? All I know is that it's super cute.

Thin shoulder straps, cute light purple flowers where my cleavage will point down to, and then flowing purple fabric that makes a shushing noise when I rub it together.

I pull it on over my head and then get busy adjusting it enough that all my bits are appropriately covered, even if the straps are too loose. "Ready."

Lisa eyes me a moment before a smile spreads. "Yes, I knew this color would work for you."

She sets about adjusting the shoulder straps before locking eyes with me in the mirror. "Lean forward and lift your breasts so that they sit more in the underwire."

Not even the least bit self-conscious, I do as she requests, and as soon as I straighten up, I can see the results. Damn, I look like I have a boob-shelf.

Lisa smirks. "Perfect. Shall we put this in the yes pile?"

I turn sideways and assess the look. "Yes. But ah, what do I wear underneath?"

"I thought you might ask that, so I pulled you a few options, one moment." Lisa lifts the curtain a little and reaches out to grab something. Her hand returns with a deep purple string-thin G-string that has the smallest triangle of fabric at the front and a lace pair of boy shorts. "These two work best. Or you could go nude."

As sexy as the G-string looks, I think I am going to go with the boy shorts. I'm supposed to be looking cute, not slutty, right? Wait, are G-strings slutty? Would my daddies like a G-string? Or completely nude?

My stomach tenses at the indecision, but I opt to go for the thing that makes me more comfortable. If they have a preference, they should have told me.

I point at the boy shorts and Lisa nods. "Perfect. Okay, next outfit."

Lisa disappears again, but I sense she hasn't gone far. Knowing that she has a big sale on this side of the curtain probably has something to do with that.

My phone vibrates and I almost jump on it.

Brat4Us: Teasing us?

I can't help the silly smile on my lips as I type out my reply.

SugarBB_Emmy: Are you saying you don't like the pictures? Should I not send any more?

The bubbles that appear immediately on my screen are paired with a bubbly feeling inside my chest.

Brat4Us: Bratting for us already? *evil smirking face*

I huff out a laugh.

SugarBB_Emmy: *angel face* Not at all. I just don't want to keep sending pics if you don't like them.

Brat4Us: Keep sending them.

For some reason, that last reply reads like a growl in my head, which sends a line of fire down to my pussy. I clench; my thighs, my core, my ass. What the fuck was that? How am I getting turned on from fucking text messages?

Clutching my phone, I raise it to the mirror, bend forward at the waist, tuck my elbows into my ribs to push my boobs up, and take a photo of the dark purple and overflowing cleavage. If the cup moves slightly and there is a shadowy hint of a nipple, who am I to point that out?

"Everything okay?" Lisa calls out, and I jolt out of the bubble I'm in.

"Ah, yeah. Sorry, got distracted by my phone." I hit send and drop the phone onto the chair.

My heart is lodged in my throat, but I still take as much care as possible with the delicate outfit, removing it and putting it back on its own hook.

Lisa and I repeat this process with several more lingerie sets, and I take as many teasing pictures as possible. I don't get any replies, which leaves me with a cramped stomach.

Did they not like the images?

Did I make them too sexy? Was it supposed to be more subtle?

Oh shit.

Were they not sexy enough?