The cock’s only in your mind, honey. It’s not real. Do you really think that’s enough?
Oh, if pussies could talk. Fuck that would be awkward.
I rinse my hair slowly, scrub off the mask, and rub lots of soft cream on my face. I like to walk around naked when drying off. It’s really good for the skin.
Once I start to feel cool, I rub honey moisturizer onto my whole body, taking time with small, circular strokes.
When your body is your money maker, you find all sorts of ways to optimize it.
I had hoped to distract myself, but if anything, I’m more frustrated than ever. My clit is throbbing, just lightly, but enough to be really fucking annoying.
If I think about my pussy at all, it immediately starts to get wet. I don’t want to think about how long it’s been since I had sex.
I don’t want to think about Derek.
But I can’t help it. I’m thinking about Derek.
I go to the closet and think about what to wear. Maybe I should just walk downstairs naked.
Then, I realize…I’ve practically already decided to try and meet him in the foyer.
That’s what this whole beauty routine was all about.
But what exactly am I going to do? He won’t notice me. He’ll be running, two steps at a time, his focus on his phone.
If I go down naked, maybe I’ll get a glance. Or maybe not.
But my bod is all ready for action now. It needs a fine garment to set it off. I rifle through all my clothes, not sure what to pick.
Grey dress with pleated skirt? Gold silk sheath? White peasant dress?
With a little gasp, I pull out an old beauty from the back of the rack. It’s a short shirt dress that buttons up the front.
Almost the same kind I imagine Derek’s future wife would wear. Except it’s not pastel; it’s black with br
ight red poppies.
I slip into it and button up the front. I like feeling naked under it, knowing only one small, fragile line of buttons stands between me and total nudity.
The bell rings, and I hurry to answer it.
It’s my hamper arriving. The delivery boy is too young to interest me, even though he looks me over appreciatively. Maybe even expectantly.
Who knows what tasty bits delivery boys get into? But I’m not even slightly enticed.
Some other day, punk. I’m not in the mood to break a greenhorn today.
I want a man. A real man. One who’s big in every way and knows how to fuck.
I pour some champagne and bite into a strawberry. I demolish half the box of fine chocolates with three more glasses in between eating strawberries.
Lucky the hamper came with two bottles of Moet. It seems one’s not enough.
The roses are beautiful. Dark and red. The exquisite perfume only enhances the feeling that there’s something special about today.
Today’s the day. But for what?
With shock, I realize it’s getting dark. Time has been flying by while I stuffed my face and got drunk.