“Makes sense, I guess.” He turned to the novelty items stacked behind him, picking up a plastic-lined box holding what looked like a hair curler. “What the hell is this?”
Samantha went redder than the nylon lingerie she was clipping to a rack. “It’s a vibrator, of course,” she said.
“It looks like it could clear out a clog.”
“Or grind coffee?” she added with a nervous laugh.
He studied the thing. Clear latex, with a gold plastic base and gold ball-bearings set for rotation. A segment shaped like a bunny’s head with two ears probably worked the hot spot. “Modern engineering.” He tilted the box, examining it.
He could tell Samantha wished he’d stop staring at it like he wanted to try it out, but she said, “Some men feel threatened by vibrators,” challenging him.
“Why would they?”
“Because they make a man superfluous.”
“Superfluous, huh?” He examined it again. “Hell, if it works, go for it.” He handed her the box.
“I don’t want it.” Her eyes went wide. “I mean I have one…but not like this. Mine is…simpler.”
“What the hell. You can always use it to whip up dessert.”
He watched his words register in her face.
“Couples use vibrators, too,” she said softly. “To enhance the pleasure.”
“Seems to me a man should find out what his lady likes and give it to her. Batteries not required.” What the hell was coming out of his mouth? Of course, sitting in a sea of lingerie holding a sex toy had to take its toll on his sense.
“I like how you think,” Samantha breathed. Heat spiked between them and Rick’s belt felt way too tight.
“You want that, keep it,” Val said, breezing by, nodding at the mix-master he held. “I owe you two dinner for the help. Anything else you’d like, just grab.” She waved her arm to indicate the room full of girlie clothes.
Samantha smiled. “Anything here interest you?” she asked. “Maybe those?” She pointed at the men’s rack, where some black bikini jobs had a hole for the cock to stick out.
“I don’t think so,” he said, aware it was his turn to go red.
“You probably need a custom fit,” she teased. “Something in an extra-large?” Her eyes gleamed in triumph that she’d managed to embarrass him. She was something else. A live wire. A handful. A prize. If only…
“Look at the time!” Valerie’s voice made him jump. “Lindsay will kill me. Can you two manage the windows without me, Sammi?”
Before either of them could reply, Valerie thrust a shoe box at Rick, then piled on some red filmy items followed by a black leather corset covered with zippers and grommets. “For the small window,” she said. “Think Donna Dominatrix.”
“Donna what?” he said.
But Val had turned to Samantha and had plopped a load of pale silk stuff and a long strip of feathers into her arms. “Velma Virgin and the Pastel Posse in the big display.” Val looked from one to the other. “I owe you two big. Make a list of what you want. I’m serious. Or charge me more for the catalog, Sammi. I’ll do the finishing touches in the morning. You’re angels. Kisses.”
And she was gone, leaving them blinking at each other in the empty underwear store. “I hope you know what goes where,” he said, looking down at his armload of lace, leather, zippers and boots.
“You mean you’ve never outfitted a dominatrix before?”
“This will be my first. Be gentle with me.” The joke came out so easily. Samantha made him feel the way he had before his brother had died, as if life were a blast and a good laugh was worth everything.
“We’ll just have to learn together,” she said. She tucked her items under an arm and picked up the dangerous-looking corset on top of his pile.
“That’s gotta hurt to wear,” he said.
“I know.” Samantha traced her finger along the curve of the thing, giving him a different kind of pain—sweet and hungry. “Women cut off their circulation, choke off their breathing, pinch their toes and make their arches ache just to please men.” She lifted her gaze to him. “Does it work? Do these clothes turn you on?”
He didn’t need a thing past her for that. “I think women are sexy enough just as they are,” he managed to say.
Her mouth stretched into a slow smile. “But don’t clothes add to the effect?” She dropped the torture vest back in his arms and shifted the pile of soft things from under her arms to the front. She fingered the feather strip. “I don’t like being cramped or pinched, but I like soft things. Silk and velvet and feathers.” She ran the feathers between her fingers until he wanted to rip the thing away with his teeth.