“Worried about Bella?” he offered, and she willingly took the excuse. Only it wasn’t completely an excuse. Her arms ached to hold her tiny daughter. She gave herself a mental shake, thinking she’d obviously jumped the gun with this night out.
“This is the first time I’ve been away from her for the evening.” In truth, it had been harder than she’d expected but she could at least be honest with herself about why she was leaving earlier than expected. It had more to do with raw emotions and unexpected revelations.
“And she’s doing okay? Progressing all right?”
“Oh, yes,” Jessica said with a nod, actually quite proud of how well Bella was progressing.
Tank seemed relieved for some reason and smiled. She only saw understanding in his eyes, accepting her excuse for leaving without argument. “Well, be safe. And hey, don’t be a stranger,” he said as he held the car door open for her. “I’m—we’re glad to see you getting out a little bit. Next time we’re at the Dancing Pony will you save us a dance?”
The dance Charity Connors had shared with her men came to mind even though she knew that wasn’t the kind of dance he meant. She averted her eyes under the guise of putting the key in the ignition and then tried to smile at him. “Maybe so?” she replied, unsure why she voiced it as a question. Did she want that? Could she handle it?
He closed her car door and at the very last second, leaned in and gently kissed her cheek. “Good night, Jess. Drive safe.”
Her cheek tingled all the way home.
Chapter Nineteen
Mid-May…
Charity stood in the living room of the expansive lakeside cabin they’d stayed in a few months before, when their journey as a ménage had begun. She’d made the trip there by herself after work, as Justin had requested when he’d called her earlier that day. Of course the hours until she could leave work had inched along at a snail’s pace. Beau was staying with Noah that weekend and Justine was spending time with her grandparents.
The dwindling rays of the sunlight reflected off of the water through the large windows at the rear of the house, bathing the room with a warm glow.
She lifted the flaps of the box with her name emblazoned on the outside and peeked inside. Justin had explained that a box would be waiting for her when she got to the cabin, and to follow the instructions inside, and to wait for them.
Tearing into the first bag, she discovered a tiered, cotton skirt. She held it up to look at it and smiled when she realized she could see out the back windows through the lightweight ivory fabric. Then she saw the label at the waist.
“Hips and Curves! Awesome!”
Giddy with excitement, she grabbed the packing slip from the box and realized she was holding a—
“Petticoat?”
The next package contained a sexy ivory lace underwire bra that was soft as a whisper and would go well with the petticoat. As she held it up to the light and noted its sheerness, the redolent fragrance of leather wafted from the box.
“Oh, my lovers. What this?”
Lifting the last package, she sighed happily as she removed the tan leather underbust corset she’d had on her wish list at Hips & Curves for forever. After carrying the box to the bedroom she laid the pieces out on the bed. Tapping her index finger against her lip, she wondered what their plan was.
Glancing in the box, she spied a small notecard.
Put on the costume. Good serving wenches don’t need panties. You’ll know what to do when the time is right.
Love, Justin
“Serving wench?” A gasp exploded from her, followed by a happy squeal. “Oh, hell-fucking-yes!” She danced up on her toes and then ran for the bathroom clutching the garments and the note.
She stopped in front of the mirror and smiled at the note taped there.
Take your time, babe. When you’re ready, turn off the front porch light.
She rummaged through her overnight bag and found everything she needed. Glancing at the note, she chuckled quietly.
“A good serving wench doesn’t need panties, eh?”
With the scissors from her little sewing kit, she went to work on the petticoat, part of her cringing at cutting on such a beautifully sewn garment but also knowing how hot it would be for her men to rip it off of her a piece at a time. Considering she hadn’t had any forewarning about this evening, she thought she’d done a pretty good job of looking the part when she stood in front of the mirror.
It was a good thing she was adept at getting into a corset on her own. She tugged the laces one last time and tied them off, did up the row of buckles and straps that accented the front of the corset, and then admired her handiwork in the mirror. The underbust design displayed her breasts generously, offering them up for her men’s’ hands to touch—if they caught her.