Just the thought of Danielle in her bra and panties made my cock swell.
I fidgeted.
"Lies."
She shook her head. "Truth."
"Fine. I'll wear my Batman boxers for you."
She clapped, excitedly. "Yay! Just like old times."
Part of me shared her notion, but another part of me didn't. Sure, I wanted to rehash old times, especially the fun ones, but I also wanted new times. Fun times. Sex times.
"Okay. Go get your PJ's on while I take off my dress."
Shit! She's fucking serious.
"You're joking, right?"
She shook her head.
Jumping up like a teenager who was ready for his first handjob, I ran my fingers through my hair before turning full circle, a little lost as to where I was headed.
"Wait! Can you unhook me first, please?" Danielle lifted her hair from her neck and leaned forward, baring her shoulders to me.
"Sure." I sat on the arm of the sofa and reached for the back of her dress, carefully unhooking the clasp and gently guiding the zip down, my hands shaking as more and more of her skin was exposed.
She flinched just slightly and closed her eyes, swaying toward me, as if she was unable to stop herself. Fuck, I was torn, not knowing whether to peel the lace and satin from her and carry her to my room, or to get up and walk away in the hope that, soon enough, I'd know for certain that taking things further was what she really wanted, because, right now, I had no fucking idea. And I couldn't risk showing her my true feelings if it meant she would run away.
Been there, done that.
And I wasn't going to do it again.
His touch was unlike anything I'd ever felt. Hot. Cold. Tortuous. Exquisite. It sent my nerve endings waltzing across the surface of my skin, their message a cha-cha-cha to my brain.
"Is that enough?" he asked, his tone deep and gravelly.
The delicious sound fuelled every sensation I was feeling, but it was the cracked trepidation in his voice that provided a friendly reminder of where I was and what I should and shouldn't be doing. And allowing his hands to remain on my back any longer was definitely something I shouldn't be doing.
I held my dress up at the front and shuffled back along the sofa. "Yes, thank you."
Elliot stood up and ran his hand through his hair. "Are you going to be okay? I mean … will your foot hamper the removal of your dress? I mean … do you need help getting out of it?"
I couldn't help but laugh at his awkwardness. "I'll be fine, Lots."
"Right. Of course you will. Okay, I'll be back."
He hurried off, and a wave of guilt hit me. Danielle, what are you doing? I was sending mixed signals. I knew I was. One second, I was "We're not fucking, Elliot", and next I was "Can you unzip me, Elliot?"
Ugh! I'd never known a man to have the ability to change my mind as often and as easily as he could. And fuck all the shits, his hands were magic. It's his goddamn fault.
By the time he'd returned, wearing a pair of Batman boxer shorts, I hadn't moved. I was still seated on the sofa with the front of my dress bunched in my hands and secured to my chest.
"You did need help," he sighed, reaching out to, what I assumed, assist me with the undressing process.
I held my hand out. "No! Keep those magic hands away from me."
"What?" He laughed, but it was one of those 'you're crazy' laughs.
"I mean it. Your hands really are magic. They nearly tricked me into wanting to get naked. I wasn't planning on getting naked, Elliot, just semi-naked … as in Spanx naked."
He stepped back, his hand finding his chin, which was when I nearly gave birth to my ovaries. OhmyfuckingGod! Elliot was the near naked one, not me; standing there in all his trim, toned, muscular glory. My jaw dropped and I gulped, clenched, squirmed, blinked … had a freakin' cardiac arrest.
"Danielle, I don't think I've ever been this confused in my life."
"You and me both," I practically slurred, unable to remove my eyes from him.
"Firstly, what is a naked Spanx? Secondly, can you please start making sense now?"
Still unable to look anywhere other than the V muscle disappearing behind the Batmobile, I blindly felt for the straps of my dress and slid them over my shoulders, awkwardly shimming out of it to reveal my nude coloured Spanx undergarment.
"This," I said, continuing to wrestle the dress past my knees while slouched on the sofa. "This is Spanx. It's my underwear. This is what I meant."
"That's what you meant by wearing your underwear?"