What I Did for Love

Chapter 13

The small shop with its rich, mustard yellow exterior reminded Georgie of an old-fashioned British haberdashery. Above the door, an art nouveau figure of a woman curled around the glossy black letters that spelled out the shop’s name. provocative. The two os formed her breasts.

Georgie had heard about the upscale sex shop from April, but she’d never visited. “Excellent idea,” she said.

“And here I expected you to go all prudish on me.” Bram’s hand settled in the small of her back.

“I haven’t done prudish in years.”

“You could have fooled me.” He held the door open for her, and they stepped inside the store’s perfumed interior accompanied by the shouts of the photographers and the deafening click of shutters. Trespassing laws would keep the paps outside, and they scrambled for position, trying to get a shot through the window.

The Edwardian interior featured subtle mustard yellow walls and warm wooden moldings. A painted spray of peacock feathers encircled the chandelier, and erotic Aubrey Beardsley drawings mounted in gold frames decorated the walls. She and Bram were the only customers, although she suspected that would change as word of their presence spread.

The shop was a buffet of sexual fantasy. Bram zeroed in on the erotic lingerie collection, while Georgie couldn’t pull her eyes away from an artistically arranged display of dildos in front of an antique mirror. She knew she’d stared too long when Bram’s lips brushed her ear. “I’ll be happy to lend you mine.”

Georgie’s stomach took a tiny dip.

The clerk, a middle-aged woman with long brunette hair, a tastefully shrink-wrapped top, and a gauzy skirt, snapped to attention as she recognized them. Her peep-toe stilettos sank into the carpet. “Welcome to Provocative.”

“Thanks,” Bram replied. “Interesting place.”

Breathless from the excitement of having two such notorious celebrities in her store, the clerk began listing the shop’s special features. “We have a fabulous bondage center through that arch-way. Lovely whips, paddles, nipple clamps, and some really luxurious restraints. You’ll be surprised how comfortable they are. All our toys are high quality. As you can see, we have a wide variety of dildos, vibrators, some jade cock rings, and”-she gestured toward a glass case-“a really beautiful set of pearl anal beads.”

Georgie winced. She’d heard of anal beads, but she’d never quite figured out how or why anyone would use them.

As the clerk turned away to survey the shelves, Bram whispered, “Been there, done that. Although not with you.”

Her stomach took another dip.

The clerk addressed Georgie. “I just finished unpacking a new shipment of jeweled merkins. Have you ever worn a merkin?”

“Give me a hint.”

With a prim smile, the saleswoman clasped her hands at her waist like an art museum docent. “Merkins were originally pubic wigs worn by prostitutes to conceal either thinning pubic hair or syphilis. The modern versions are much sexier, and with so many women going bare, they’ve become quite popular.”

Georgie was both erotically and philosophically opposed to ripping out all her pubic hair. The idea of completely giving up something so womanly to look like a prepubescent girl smacked too much of kiddie porn. But the salesclerk had already opened a display case and taken out a jeweled, triangular piece set with sparkling purple, blue, and crimson crystals. Georgie examined the object and saw a small V-shaped indenture at the bottom point of the triangle, obviously put there to showcase the cleft beyond. “Naturally, all our merkins come with adhesive.”

Bram picked up the merkin to examine it, then returned it to the clerk. “I think we’ll pass. Some things don’t need extra decoration.”

“I understand,” the woman said, “although this one does have matching jeweled nipple covers.”

“They’d just get in my way.”

Georgie’s flush told her she was in big trouble.

“We have amazing lingerie,” the clerk said to him. “Our three-petal bras are very popular. Your wife can wear them with all of the petals up, or just the side ones fastened. Or she can peel them all down.”

Georgie’s breasts tingled.

“Very efficient.” Bram slipped his hand under her hair and touched the back of her neck. Her skin pebbled.

“Have you heard about our VIP dressing room?”

It all came back to her from a conversation with April. She tried to look thoughtful. “I, uh, think a friend might have mentioned something.”

“It has a peephole in the back wall,” the clerk said. “You can open it if you like. There’s a smaller dressing room behind for your husband.”

Bram laughed, one of his few genuine laughs since the balcony photos had appeared. “If more men knew about this place, they’d stop saying they hate to shop.”

The salesclerk gave Georgie a knowing smile. “We have an exotic collection of men’s briefs, and the peephole works two ways.” She couldn’t hold back any longer. “I just have to say that I loved you both in Skip and Scooter. Everybody’s so excited about you getting married, and don’t let all those stupid stories bother you.” She had to break off as more customers entered the store. “I’ll be right back if you need anything.”

Georgie gazed after her. “A list of whatever we buy is going to be all over the Internet by dinnertime. Massage oil would be safe.”

“Oh, I think we can be a little more exciting than that.”

“No whips and paddles. I’m so over S and M. At first it was fun, but making all those grown men cry got boring after a while.”

He smiled. “No dildos, either, even though I know how much you want one. Which is no surprise, since-”

“Will you get over it?”

“Over it…Under it…” He touched the bow of her top lip. “Inside it…”

A bolt of heat zipped through her body. She was going to melt.

He nudged her toward the lingerie collection, where softly lit shadow boxes displayed kinky bra-and-panty sets, garter belts, and skimpy teddies with front ties and see-through panels. All the lingerie was beautifully made and ultraexpensive. Bram held up a bra with a silky drawstring across the top of each cup. “You’re what? About a-?”

“Thirty-four double D,” she said.

He lifted a dark eyebrow and snagged a 34 B, which was exactly right, not surprising considering his knowledge of female anatomy. Several more customers entered the store, but for now, everybody was giving them space.

“Just so you know,” she whispered, as much to herself as him. “This isn’t a date, and the peephole door is staying shut.”

“This is definitely a date.” He examined a one-piece bondage body wrap made of black mesh. “Great workmanship.” He fingered the satin ties. “A lot softer than leather.”

“I love leather.” She snatched up a pair of low-cut leather briefs constructed with a man-pouch in front.

“Not in a million years,” he retorted.

She stole the bondage wrap from him. “Too bad.”

They had a stare-down. He broke first. “Okay, you win. I’ll trade you.”

“Deal.”

They exchanged garments, as if this were for real instead of two actors playing a skillful game of pretend. Bram added several cupless bras to her pile and some panties missing their crotches. She picked up a few more items for him in leather, but when she found an interesting pair of chaps, he looked so pained she put them back. He returned the favor by abandoning a torturous-looking corset. Finally, they exchanged garments, and the clerk led them to the back corner of the shop and the VIP dressing room. She unlocked a paneled wooden door with an old-fashioned skeleton key and hung Georgie’s garments on a curly brass hook before taking Bram away to his dressing room.

Georgie stood surrounded by antique rose walls; a full-length, gilded mirror; a tufted footstool; and wall sconces with fringed, rose-colored shades that gave the space a soft, flattering glow. The room’s most intriguing feature sat at eye level in the back wall, a door about one foot by one foot with a tiny knob shaped, not so subtly, like a partially opened clamshell with a pearl at its tip.

Enough was enough. Game over. Definitely over. Except…

No. Absolutely not.

A tap sounded on the wall. “Open up.”

She tugged on the “clamshell” and opened the door. Bram’s face peered back at her through the black iron grillwork. Hardly a peephole. The antique rose walls framing his face should have feminized his face but only made him appear more masculine. He rubbed his jaw. “I’m embarrassed to admit it, but this place has seriously turned me on.”

He wasn’t one bit embarrassed, and the store’s over-the-top atmosphere had seriously turned her on, too. She twisted her fake wedding ring. Melrose Avenue might be only a few blocks away, but this erotic emporium made her feel as though they’d stepped into another world. An oddly safe world where an untrustworthy man could look but not touch. A world where everything was about sex and where heartache wasn’t a possibility.

“I wish we’d taken a look at that bondage equipment,” he said.

She couldn’t resist playing with fire. “Just out of curiosity…Which one of us did you want tied up?”

“Starting off? You.” His voice took on a low, husky note. “But once you demonstrated proper submission, we could trade off. Now what do you say you try on that black mesh thing for me?”

The lure of romping with the devil in this sexual playground was nearly irresistible. “What do I get in return?”

“What do you want?”

She thought for a moment. “Step back.” When he did, she put her face to the grille and saw that his smaller dressing room had dark gold walls and oversize iron bolts to hold the garments she’d chosen for him. “Those black leather briefs.”

“No way.”

“Too bad.” She shut the door.

“Hey!”

She took her time opening it again. “Have you reconsidered?”

“If you go first.”

“Right. Like I’m going to fall for that.”

They had another stare-down. She kept her eyes steady even though her heart was beating like crazy.

“Come on, Georgie. I’ve had a bad week. Trying on some clothes for me is the least you can do.”

“I’ve had a bad week, too, and these aren’t clothes. They’re sex aids. If you want this so badly, you go first.”

“How about we do it together?”

“Deal.” She shut the door again. Her hands were shaking. She stepped out of her navy and white polka-dot ballet flats.

Several minutes passed before he knocked from the other side. “Are you ready yet?”

“No. I feel stupid.”

“You feel stupid. This thing has a frickin’ codpiece.”

“I know. I chose it, remember? And I’m the one who should be complaining. These corset straps are arranged so they don’t hide anything.”

“Open the door. Now.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“On the count of three,” he said.

“You have to step back so I can see.”

“All right. I’m stepping back. One…two…three.”

She opened the door and looked through.

Bram looked back.

Both of them were fully clothed.

Bram shook his head. “You have serious trust issues.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “At least I took off my shoes. You didn’t even do that.”

“New deal,” he said. “The door stays open. You take off one thing. I’ll take off one thing. I’ll even go first.” He pulled his shirt over his head.

She already knew he had a great chest. She’d spent enough time sneaking peeks at it. The muscles were defined but not so overdeveloped that he lost I.Q. points, because, really, how sexy could a man be who had nothing better to do all day than work out?

“I’m waiting,” he said.

A quick calculation told her she was wearing more clothes. Was she really going to do this? Having sex with Bram offered no guarantee that he still wouldn’t cheat, but he also wasn’t stupid. He knew the kind of microscope they were under and how difficult it would be for him to get away with anything. Besides, Bram always took the easy way out, and in this case, that would be her.

She slipped her hand behind her neck and removed her silver necklace.

“No fair.”

Her trip to the devil’s playground demanded at least a few swings from the monkey bars. “Drop your jeans. You have a codpiece waiting.”

“I still have my shoes on, remember?” He stepped back so she could watch him kick off a single sneaker.

“That’s cheating.” She pulled away and slipped a small diamond stud from her earlobe.

“Talk about cheats.” Another sneaker came off.

“I’ve never cheated in my life.” She removed the remaining diamond stud.

“I don’t believe you.” One sock.

“Maybe at Pictionary.” Her wedding ring.

As they removed each new item, they took turns stepping back from the grille so the other could see. Up and back…up and back…a sensual dance of reveal and conceal.

His second sock hit the carpet. “Did a man ever dribble honey down your belly and lick it off?”

“Dozens of times.” She toyed with the top button on her blouse, playing for time, still not certain how far she’d go with this private peep show. “How long since your last lover?”

“Too long.” He slipped his thumb inside the snap at the top of his waistband.

“When?” She squeezed the red plastic button between her fingers.

“Could we talk about this another time?” He popped the snap.

“I don’t think so.” Bringing up past lovers should be diminishing her desire, but that wasn’t happening.

“Later. I promise.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“If I welsh, you can walk across my bare back in stilettos.”

“If you welsh”-her top button seemed to open of its own accord-“you’ll never see these again.” She unfastened her blouse button by button, then let it slide off her arms. She wore a lacy white La Perla bra with matching panties he didn’t yet know about.

His hand went to his wrist. Slowly, he slipped off his watch-she’d forgotten about his stupid watch-leaving him only in jeans with-what?-beneath. She couldn’t catch a deep breath. She moved back and unfastened her navy slacks. Looking him squarely in the eye, she tugged them down.

Her legs had always been her best feature-long, slender, and strong-a dancer’s legs, and his gaze lingered. Endless seconds ticked by before he stepped back and pulled off his slacks. He wore a pair of gray knit End Zone boxer briefs that molded to a sizable erection. She stared at it.

“Now your panties,” he said, approaching the grille again.

She’d never been so aroused, and they hadn’t exchanged a single touch. She unfastened her bra. The straps slipped down her shoulders, but she curled her hands over the lacy cups to keep them in place and moved back to the grille. “Work for it,” she whispered.

His voice grew husky. “I’m going to have to trust you on this one.”

He tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his End Zones, worked them down, and stood in front of her magnificently naked. She grazed him with her eyes, the wide tanned shoulders, the muscular chest, the narrow hips a few shades paler than the rest of him. She barely felt her bra drifting through her fingers.

“Step back,” he said on a gruff whisper.

He was using her, and she was using him, and she didn’t care. She moved into the center of the dressing room and drew off her fragile nylon panties. He gazed at her with such intensity her skin prickled. He’d been with women far more beautiful, but she experienced none of the grinding insecurity she’d suffered with Lance. This was Bram. She didn’t care about his opinion. She only cared about his body. She tilted her head. “Stand back so I can look at you again.”

But his patience had ended. “The game’s over. We’re getting out of here. Now.”

She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay in this sensual fantasy world forever. She pulled the ice-blue petal bra from its hook. “I wonder how this will look.”

“You’re putting clothes on?”

“I need to check the fit.” She turned her naked bottom to him and donned the bra. Each cup was made up of three silky petals. She faced him again and, without a word, unfastened each petal, the sides first, and then the center. Taking forever.

His eyes glittered through the grille. “You’re killing me.”

“I know.” She snagged the matching panties from their hook and stood back so he could watch her slip them on. They were open at the crotch. “These fit well, don’t you think?”

“I can’t think. Come here.”

She took her time approaching the peephole. When she got there, he whispered, “Closer.”

They pressed their faces to the grille, and their mouths met through the whirls of black metal. Only their mouths.

And then the earth moved.

Really moved.

Or at least the wall. Her eyes flew open. She gave a startled gasp as the last obstruction between them swung inward. She should have known a shop as inventive as Provocative wouldn’t overlook something like this. Her feeling of safety dissolved.

Bram ducked and came through. “Not everyone gets told about the door.”

She’d never had sex without love, and Bram offered only dirty thrills. She knew exactly how duplicitous he was, how undependable. She had no illusions. Her eyes were wide open. Exactly the way she wanted it. “This is only our first date.”

“One hell of a date.”

He secured the door behind him and looked down at her naked breasts, showcased by the open-cup bra. “Lady, I do love your underwear.” The back of his knuckles brushed her nipple. He took one of the gauzy petals, drew it up, and fastened it. Then he suckled her through the frail barrier.

Her legs grew weak. He pulled her down on the big tufted ottoman so that she straddled his thighs. They kissed. He suckled. She sank her fingers into his hair and bit her lips to keep from crying out. His thighs had pushed her own far apart. She still wore the panties that had no crotch. He separated the nylon fabric, reached into her silk, and played until she was trembling with desire.

When she couldn’t tolerate it any longer, she braced her knees on the ottoman, lifted herself upon him, and slowly took him into her body.

His breath came in ragged gasps, but he didn’t try to push himself into her. Instead, he gave her all the time she needed to accept him. And she took advantage. Wicked advantage. As soon as she gained a hard-earned inch, she gave it up and started all over again. His shoulders grew slick with sweat. She didn’t care about his need-about whether she was pleasing him. She didn’t care about his feelings, his fantasies, his ego. All she cared about was what he could do for her. And if he didn’t satisfy her-if, at the end, he turned out to be a dud-she wouldn’t make up excuses for him as she had with Lance. Instead, she’d complain loud and long until he got it right. Although it didn’t seem as though that would be necessary.

“You’re going to pay for this,” he said through gritted teeth. But still he let her do as she wanted until she became so mindless that she had to give up the game. Only then did he dig his fingers into her bottom and pull her down hard upon him.

They couldn’t make any noise. Only a thin wall shielded them from exposure. He buried his face in her breasts and rubbed her where their bodies joined. She arched against his hand, threw back her head, clutched his shoulders, and joined him on a wild, silent ride.

Not loving him. Only using him.

He shuddered. She flung back her head.

Release…

The practicalities didn’t hit her until afterward. The mess. The used lingerie they hadn’t paid for. The inconvenient husband. As they disengaged, her sanity returned. She had to make sure he understood this hadn’t changed anything. “Well done, Skipper.” She stretched out the kinks in her legs. “You’re no George Clooney, but you definitely show promise.”

He moved toward the hidden door, then surveyed her body, as if he were marking his territory. “At least this answers one question.”

“What’s that?”

He gave her a lazy smile. “I finally remember what happened that night in Vegas.”