Naughty Bits 2 (14 page)

We head straight for Vincent's and the front door swings open. Usually I have to ring the bell to gain entrance. I heard they had to install that and start taking appointments after one too many run-ins between mistresses and wives. But today,
Brianna, the stunning beauty who works the front desk, is waiting for me.

“Good morning, Ms. Martin,” Brianna says and she motions for me to come in.

“I'm sorry I'm late.”

“My fault,” Leon apologizes. To my surprise, he steps into the shop. “I hope I didn't cause you any inconvenience.”

I don't know what's going through his head. I know Leon doesn't care one way or the other if he causes a hiccup in their schedule. Nothing is more important than his own time. But Brianna smiles and lets him know that it isn't any trouble at all.

For a brief moment I feel a spurt of insecurity. Is Leon checking out Brianna? She is younger than me and her exotic looks make me feel pale and boring in comparison. I have no idea if she would indulge a lover's fetishes, but Brianna oozes sex appeal.

I'm actually feeling envious of her kimono-inspired dress when Leon reaches for one of the expensive black bustiers in the store window and strokes the lace. “This is nice.”

I can hear the burr in his voice and I want to breathe a sigh of relief. He didn't notice Brianna—he has plans for the bustier.

“Excuse me for one moment,” Brianna says, casting a curious glance at Leon. “I'll let Vincent know you're here.”

She hurries away, her stiletto heels clacking on the floor. Leon reaches for the sash of my raincoat and pulls me close to him. I can feel his cock pressing into my stomach. He's already aroused from imagining me in the bustier. I know I would look good in it, especially with my black heels, seamed stockings and garter belt.

Leon brushes his mouth against my ear. “Meet me in my office in one hour.”

An hour? I can't do that! Vincent is going to have a fit. “But I—”

“Wear the bustier under your raincoat.”

There's an edge of warning in his voice. Who would I rather displease, my lover or my lingerie designer? I hate to admit that I hesitated. I give a reluctant nod as Vincent hurries out. “Amaris! So good to see you again.”

Vincent is exactly what I think a designer should look like, from his bald head to the gold signet ring on his little finger. Today he wears a long-sleeved pink shirt with a burgundy scarf tucked in the collar. The tailored gray pants and polished shoes show his attention to detail and love of fashion.

I give him a kiss on both his wrinkled cheeks, inhaling his familiar scent of eucalyptus and mint. I turn to introduce him to Leon, but apparently they already know each other. I catch Vincent's wince as he shakes Leon's hand. Glancing down at his fingers, I notice the designer's knuckles are swollen and red.

“I won't take up any more of your time,” Leon says as he goes for the door. He pauses and gives me a hot, smoky look. “I'll see you in an hour.”

Vincent turns and looks at me in horror. “An hour? We have too much to do!” He tosses his hands up in the air. “I need you fitted for the negligees you ordered.”

“I can come back again later in the day,” I promise and I glance at the appointment book on Brianna's desk. Apparently, I am the only client today. Now I don't feel so guilty.

But Vincent seems to think this is reason enough to carry on. “You can't give genius a time limit!” he continues as he takes me into the fitting room. “I can't be held responsible for the results.”

I see his assistant, Denise, getting everything ready for my fitting as Mary, the seamstress, waits for me by the raised dais. They greet me warmly and Vincent immediately gets to work.

As Denise and Vincent discuss the selection for me, I notice that the assistant looks more pulled together today. Usually she's frazzled and messy, too busy handling a million things for Vincent. But today her blond hair is styled in a smooth blunt
cut. Her business pantsuit is a bright shade of blue and shows off her athletic figure. She looks sexy, which can only mean one thing. She has a new man in her life.

The first thing I try on is a champagne-colored negligee. It fits me like a glove and I can't help but preen in front of the mirror.

When I step out of the dressing room, the seamstress is the only person waiting for me. I don't hear Denise or Vincent, and the cup of hot tea on a side table is the only sign that Brianna has been here.

“Where is everyone else?” I ask Mary as I step onto the raised dais.

She shrugs. “They are fighting over creative differences.” Mary studies my appearance with an intensity that borders on scowling.

I turn and look at the three-way full-length mirror. Why does Mary disapprove of my nightgown?

“It doesn't fit,” she announces.

“Are you kidding? It fits perfectly!” What does she know about fit? Sure, she's a seamstress, but her gray uniform is baggy and does nothing to show off her petite figure. I bet she's a size two just like me, although you would never know it.

She purses her lips. “Your hips are wider.”

My mouth drops open. “I beg your pardon?” I flatten my hands on my hip bones as if I can hide them from her.

Mary glares at me. “Have you gained weight since the last time we measured? I hope not. That makes more work for me.”

Oh, yes. I want to ruin my figure for the sole purpose of giving Mary extra work. It's been my evil plan all along. I look around for Vincent, ready to hear some soothing words about how wonderful I look.

“And the hem is all wrong,” Mary decides. “It's supposed to be beveled.”

I frown at her through the reflection.

“That means the front is supposed to be shorter and slope down to the back.”

“I know what beveled means.” Sort of. Mary reaches for the hem and I take a step away before she does something drastic. “Shouldn't we wait for Vincent to decide that?”

“He trusts my instincts,” she says with a smug smile. “Turn toward me and I'll pin it up.”

I don't want to. I want Vincent's opinion first. That's why I'm paying him the big bucks. But he's nowhere to be found. I slowly turn and face Mary. She kneels down in front of me and measures the hem.

Looking around the fitting room, I wonder where Vincent went. Is he still mad at me for being late? I wouldn't put it past him to have a hissy fit.

Did he leave completely? I hope not. I glance in the direction of his office and notice that the door isn't fully closed. I see something move in that room. It must be Vincent.

Correction! It's Vincent and Denise. He is leaning against his messy desk and she is standing close to him. Really close. I squint, trying to see what's going on.

Vincent is holding something that looks like a letter, only it has a pale blue paper backing. I wonder what it is because it's making Denise really happy. She is smiling as she links her hands around his neck and gives him a deep kiss.

My mouth drops open. No. Way. Denise and Vincent have hooked up? When? More importantly, why? I glance down at Mary, who is measuring my hemline with her usual methodical approach. Does she know about her coworker and her boss? I'm dying to ask, but I don't think that's a good idea.

I look back in the room and see Vincent pushing Denise's shoulders, the paper in his hand brushing against her hair. I squint harder, and realize he's not pushing her away. He's motioning her to go down on her knees.

Denise willingly kneels down in front of her boss and palms his cock through his gray pants. I don't have to squint hard to see he has a big erection. Wow. And all this time I pegged Vincent as gay.

I know I should look away. I'm already getting aroused. My breasts feel heavy and full and my clit is beginning to swell. But I can't ignore what's going on in the next room. I have to watch.

Denise has already pushed Vincent's clothes past his knees. She grasps the root of his cock with both hands and starts to lick him with the tip of her tongue. A low, insistent throb gathers deep in my belly and I shift my legs. I immediately stop, surprised Mary didn't reprimand me for moving. Is she watching, too? I glance down and see she's pinning the hem with her legendary focus.

I tense up when I hear a groan from Vincent's office. I can't help but glance in that direction. Vincent looks like he's either in pain or in ecstasy. His hand crumples against the paper. He bucks against the desk before he plunges into Denise's mouth.

The wooden desk is squeaking and Vincent is not being quiet about his pleasure. Denise is slurping loudly against his cock. Am I the only who hears this?

“Try on the next one.”

I jump and give a startled look at Mary, who is still kneeling down in front of me. My heart is racing and I feel flushed. I'm aroused and I wonder if she can tell.

“I'm sorry?” I ask weakly.

Mary makes a face and it's clear she's fed up with me. “Go put on the next negligee.”

I gesture at the nightgown I'm wearing. “Vincent hasn't seen me in this.”

She gives me this look, and I know I'm pushing my luck with her. I want to hold my ground, but Vincent may be a while. Since I still have to meet with Leon within the hour, I decide to surrender gracefully.

The phone rings in the fitting room and Mary gives an impatient sigh. She rises from her position and heads for the phone that is on the desk next to my dressing room. I step into my room and firmly close the door.

I'm so horny right now, but I can't do anything about it. I try to focus on anything else.

The first thing I wonder is how long does it take for a man as old as Vincent to reach an orgasm. I decide that I have no envy for Denise. One day I might have a lover as old as Vincent, but what kind of setup did she agree to? If I was sleeping with the boss, the first thing I would do is cut my hours. I'm sure Denise gets amazing fringe benefits, but what's the point of doing someone if you also have to work for him?

I slide on the next negligee, this one shorter and the color of coffee. When I step out of my dressing room, the designer and his assistant both are out of his office and acting as if nothing unusual just happened.

It's hard not to miss Vincent's smile. It's a little bit naughty and carefree. I see that look on men all the time. Vincent's complexion is rosy and he's rubbing his hands as if he's coming up with a devious plan.

“Amaris, you look very sexy,” Vincent says in a booming voice. His hands flutter around me as he takes in my appearance. “My creation is going to be ripped right off your luscious body.”

I smile, but I see Denise flinch. She needs to work on that. Sure, it's never easy to have a man show appreciation to another woman right after you had his cock in your mouth, but Denise should be used to it.

As Denise picks up a notepad and pen, Vincent gives a few suggestions, all the time describing my body as “scrumptious” and “delightful” and “made for sin.” I feel like a goddess. And not once does he mention I gained weight. I glare at Mary, who doesn't try to share her opinions this time. She keeps her head down as she takes in the lace bodice.

Brianna comes in to see if I needed my drink refreshed. I glance at the clock, noticing that I'm cutting it close to meet with Leon. “Brianna? I need to wear one of the bustiers from the window display. Can you get one for me? I need it right away.”

“Of course!” Brianna says with a smile. She doesn't question the urgency and hurries out of the room.

Vincent and Denise are still coming up with ideas on how my negligee can look better when Brianna rushes in, clipping the sales tag off the bustier with a pair of scissors. She puts it in my dressing room and I glance at the clock again. I can't hold it off anymore.

I turn to the designer and brace myself. “Vincent, I'm sorry, but I need to take a break. I have to meet Leon.”

“But we've just started!” Vincent clutches the top of his bald head with both hands and gives an outraged huff.

That's not my fault, but I barely hold my tongue. “I'll come back. This is unavoidable.”

He tosses his hands in the air. “We have so much to do if you want the last Vincent original!”

That stops me in my tracks. “What do you mean the last?”

He waves away my question with the flick of his wrist and abruptly stops. “I haven't announced it yet,” he says quietly, almost sadly, “but I'm retiring.”

“
Retiring!
” The word hits me like a punch in the stomach. I look at the other women in the room for verification, but they look as stunned as I feel.

This will not do. Vincent can't quit. The man is my secret weapon. I can't go back to buying chain-store lingerie.

“Don't worry, my dear.” He gives me a pat on my bare shoulder. “I'm staying on in an advisory capacity.”

Relief crashes through me and I feel so much better. What Vincent is proposing is essentially what he does now, whether he knows it or not. He tosses his arms around and makes declarations, but I have never seen him work up a sweat.

I hurry back into the dressing room and grab the bustier. As I carefully remove my negligee, I hear a harsh whisper outside my room. I press my ear to the wall, wondering if they're talking about me.

“Why didn't you tell me you're retiring, Vincent?” Brianna asks, her voice shaking with anger. “I'm your heir.”

Heir? My fingers still on the hooks of my bustier. Is she his daughter? Why haven't they mentioned that? Maybe Vincent doesn't want people to know he had a grown daughter.

“I never decided that,” Vincent says.

“I may only be your niece, but you told my mom you wanted to keep the business in the family. I'm the only one who's showed an interest in it.”

I'm adjusting the bustier as I hear Vincent say, “You still have a lot to learn.”

“Bullshit!” she whispers fiercely. “You've been using me. You got cheap labor and dangled the possibility of me owning this business.”