Thigh High (10 page)

K
at's doorbell rang as she bit into her peanut buttered toast. It wasn't as burnt as the smell made it seem, so she figured this was supper. She'd wasted too much time talking with Celia and now she was running late.

She should ignore the chime of the bell and hide in the kitchen until whomever it was gave up, but she peeked around the corner and saw Taye in the front door window.

With the stupid bet still fresh in her mind, she figured she shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. If Taye was standing at her front door, she wanted to talk with him. Hell, she'd want to talk to him even without the bet.

She waved away the smell of burnt toast as she headed for the door. Taye saw her and smiled as she approached. The man had a great smile, wide, straight. His eyes crinkled at the corners in that way good-looking people had that said they'd look good at eighty.

The man was hotter than hot, and her engines revved just looking at him. She tossed the rest of the piece of toast onto the kitchen counter, then swiped her hand across the butt of her shorts. She ignored a flicker of guilt at the way she'd agreed to pursue the man as if he had no free choice.

Of course he had choice. There was a line of single women right in this complex for him to choose from. Just because Celia had stepped up the game was no reason to scurry and hide.

The peanut butter and the burnt toast smell refused to go away but she was dead out of time. If she wanted to get to work, she had to see what Taye wanted, deal with it and do her best to flirt all at the same time.

She kicked away a pair of shoes from in front of the door and opened it.

“Hi!” she said briskly, and spied the box he'd been juggling earlier. Maybe he wanted to share the cookies his mom sent.

Or not.

He looked nervous as he swiped his fingers through his damp hair. Nervous and fabulously clean and tidy, while she stunk up the place.

Life wasn't fair sometimes. Here he was, the object of her desire, looking all good and sexy while she had a hard day of school behind her, the dregs of this morning's makeup on and her hallway stunk. Peanut butter and burnt toast notwithstanding, she pasted a welcoming smile on her face.

She straightened and patted at her hair. “Sorry I'm such a mess, I was just about to get ready for work.” Something yucky caught at her hair as she pulled at a couple of strands. Peanut butter. She smoothed it, then tucked the hair behind her ear.

Unless the man had a peanut butter fetish the whole flirting idea was hopeless.

He blinked and let his gaze travel down her body. His lips lifted into a slow grin that made her wonder if she had the only peanut butter fetishist in the world living next door.

“You look great,” he said, holding up the package. “Turns out this came to my place by mistake,” he explained. “I, um, opened it before I read the label.”

He held it out to her as if it scorched his fingers. His eyes held a feverish glint. “Sorry.”

She accepted the box, brushing her fingers across his in the process. His eyes glowed at her touch while delicious flares of awareness danced through her belly. “It's for me?” She gave it a shake. Couldn't weigh more than a pound. “It's light.”

She flipped it over to read the delivery label. “Oh! Now I see,” she said, only vaguely aware that he shuffled his feet as she looked at the label. “They're testing a new courier company for deliveries. This should have been here yesterday.”

The label was smudged in a couple places, but the guy must've been in a hurry. “My usual courier would never make a mistake like this. He's aware my livelihood depends on regular deliveries, so he takes special care of me.”

She looked up at him again and caught an odd look of surprise in his eyes.

Taye nodded, then nodded again. His expression hardened and focused in a way that reminded her of the watering can incident from last week. Another shot of awareness zinged around inside.

Oh my, the man was hot.

Celia's challenge to get him naked didn't seem like a long shot now. It looked more and more like a sure thing. She forgot about the peanut butter in her hair and the wafting scent of burnt toast. “I wish I had time to invite you in and thank you properly. But—” She bit off the words.

Taye glanced back down at the package again. “You're running late,” he said, his voice a deep purr of male interest. But he stared at the package as if it contained dynamite.

She tried to keep her gaze on his face, but it was impossible to miss the way his slacks filled out.

“The warehouse dispatcher said he'd tracked this down as delivered, but when I swore I didn't have it, he put a trace on it,” she babbled, realized she babbled and ended with, “Thanks a ton, I really need it.”

He blanched. Ran a shaky hand through his trying-to-curl hair. “Oh yes, well, I guess you do. I mean, need it, that is. We all do.” His throat worked on the last words, then he swallowed hard and looked as if something was caught by his Adam's apple.

The awareness she'd been enjoying dropped like a stone into dark, anxious dread.
Oh no.
“Wait, you said you opened it?”

A sick feeling rose from her belly and she suddenly realized why he looked pale. A couple of lesbians had ordered…and he thought…and she said she needed…

“Oh my God! It isn't mine, I mean, I ordered it, of course, but it isn't for me. Honest. Well, the stockings are, but not the um, the um, other thing.” Now it was her turn to run her fingers through her hair. Heat rose from her chest to her ears. The sound of rushing blood filled her head.

“The stockings?” His voice sounded hoarse. “Are yours?”

“Yes.”

His eyes glazed with heat at her answer.

Then it hit her. Taye Connors felt the same way about her as she did about him.

Oh wow.
And there was nothing,
nothing
she could do about it right now.

Her body had other ideas. Her nipples rose and points appeared under her shirt. He saw them, swallowed, but didn't speak. From the look on his face, he wasn't capable of talking.

But she had to be sure. She tightened her forearms. The resultant jut of her nipples had him widening his eyes.

“I shouldn't hold you up,” he said, backing away. “You're on your way to work soon.” All kinds of sorry flashed through his expression.

She felt the same way. “You can hold me up anytime.” Up against a wall, door, even a car, and she'd let him do whatever he wanted with her.

The hall clock ticked away the seconds toward the time she had to leave. She glanced at the clock face, willing the hands to stop.

“When I get home late, I hope I don't disturb you,” she said, desperate for something to say to let him know how much she wanted to see him. “But sometimes your kitchen light's on. I guess you're not always asleep when I'm out here fumbling with my keys in the dark.” She was so out of practice with flirting, her words sounded awkward and tight. Her chest felt awkward and tight too.

“You need to fix the light over your door,” he said, just as tightly. “So you don't have to fumble in the dark.” His face lit up, and her heart stopped at the sheer male beauty of his smile. “Or you could knock on my door and I could help you.”

“Help me fumble?” She grinned and imagined the two of them fumbling and wrestling and finally rolling around on the front walk so hot for each other they wouldn't care that they hadn't made it inside.

“There wouldn't be any fumbling, Kat. I'd get you inside.”

She let out a shattered breath. Tried to remember that time was moving on and she had a living to make.

“I don't have a stepladder, so I can't reach.” She pointed to her dead overhead light. Some security-conscious builder had set the lights high enough that a burglar couldn't reach the bulbs, but it was a pain for the tenant.

“I'll do it for you,” he offered. “But tonight, you could ring my bell. I'll wait up for you.”

“Thanks!” She smiled and looked at him steadily while her thoughts raced straight upstairs to the bedroom. “I'll see you later.”

“You bet.” There was a feverishly sweet light in his eyes as he stepped around the rosebush that separated their front stoops.

“I appreciate it. And you,” she said. “You're a good neighbor.” She took a deep breath and held it while he tried like hell not to be seen checking out her still-jutting nipples. The nipples that tingled and weighed heavily under her tee.

She closed the door before she did something stupid like drag him into her house by the collar.

She had a party to go to. College wouldn't pay for itself.

The evening stretched before her like a silvery thread that led straight back to Taye.

She smiled and headed upstairs to shower and change. She had peanut butter to wash out of her hair. Shampooing quickly, she decided to take another five minutes to shave her legs. There was no time to wax her pubes into her favored landing strip, so she hoped he didn't mind bush.

In her room, she swapped out her sheets with fresh as quickly as she could while taking a mental inventory of her sexiest underwear. Somewhere in her drawers was a shiny silver-colored thong. One her ex-husband had never seen.

It tickled her that Taye Connors would be the first man to see her in it.

“S
o it buzzes against your clit while this other bit is inserted?” The fevered eyes of the woman sitting next to her amused Kat. They were at a dining room table, order forms in a neat stack, catalog open, toys littering the tabletop.

The demonstration had gone well, moved along by Kat's urgency to get back to Taye. With a hot man waiting, she didn't feel much like working.

She leaned in close and raised her eyebrows, not because of the woman's question but because when she moved, her silvery thong rubbed deliciously against her clit. She wondered why she'd never worn it before. “It'll rock your world,” she said in response to the question about the vibrator. She added a salacious chuckle to cement the sale.

“Ooh.” The mother of two squirmed. “Some nights I'm too tired to think, let alone get it on.” She pouted. “Don't get me wrong, I love my husband, but I'm exhausted most of the time.”

“Nap time could be fun,” Kat commented in a low, evocative tone. She'd perfected the art of the soft sell. But then, it wasn't difficult to sell orgasms. Everyone wanted them.

Her customer's eyes lit up. “They nap between two and three every afternoon.”

“Five minutes, tops,” Kat said, reaching for her pen. She grinned. Her own thighs were sodden from thoughts of Taye, so she probably looked and sounded as turned on as all her customers. But tonight was different because she wouldn't have to go home to an empty bed.

She encouraged the woman to slide her thumb across the on/off switch to demonstrate the easy use. The hummer buzzed to life, the sound quiet and unobtrusive. “It's an excellent rush and takes you where you want to go faster than any man.”

She said the last loud enough to discourage the hostess's husband from coming into the dining room from the kitchen. He assumed Kat didn't know he was there, lurking and listening to the women chatting about the party plan, the products and
SEX
. The vibrator thrummed and hummed in the other woman's hand. This part of the evening was private, and she didn't want a man ruining the mood.

“Hold the end to the tip of your nose,” she suggested. “That will give you the closest sensation of what you'll feel on your clitoris.”

“Wow, that's quite a buzz!” The woman's cheeks flushed.

Kat held up a bottle of a warming lubricant, one of her best sellers. “It goes well with our Hot Pants Lube.”

“Okay, I'll take both,” the woman said, reaching for her purse. Her hands actually trembled as she pulled out her wallet.

Kat took her order form and filled it out.

This was the most fun part of the evening. The demonstrations were over and she could sit quietly with each buyer and discuss their individual needs. She loved to coax the women into exploring their sexual needs honestly in a safe setting. For many of her customers this was a first.

Most times she set aside her own sexuality and focused on her customers, but not tonight. She was ready to go home, grab Taye Connors and show him her wild side. A side she'd never even shown her ex-husband.

A side she'd never suspected existed until she'd reluctantly taken this job. Normally straitlaced women full of sex-related questions, hearts pounding, cheeks flush, eyes glazed as possibilities bloomed for them was not the area of sales she'd thought to explore. But, wow, did it pay the bills.

A shadow at the kitchen doorway crossed her peripheral vision as she said good-bye to the woman. She ignored the lurker and smiled an encouraging welcome to the next customer.

Like a lot of uptight men who smirked at women showing a healthy interest in sex, the hostess's husband was probably turned on by the idea of women talking about sex. Like it was something dirty or only created for men. Guys like him were the most fun to shock, so she made it a point to imply she was into every one of the sex toys she offered for sale. After all, if she didn't use them, why would any other woman?

A heavy-chested redhead settled across from her, opened the catalog to the back pages and pointed. “Size XXL.”

“Ooh,” Kat crooned. “Rubber.” She loved this kind of customer. They were fast, decisive and didn't quibble about prices. They knew what they wanted and were willing to pay for it.

“My man's into it,” the woman said. “Lucky for me that's literal.”

“How so?”

“He's the one who puts it on. I just get sweaty in the stuff, so I told him to try it one night. Turns him wild now.”

Kat grinned. “Great.”

“Me, I like girl-on-girl porn.”

A choked sound came from the shadow lurking in the kitchen. The redhead winked at Kat. She winked back.

“I've been telling my area manager to pass it up the chain that DVDs would sell. Maybe in the next catalog.”

The customer laughed. “Yeah, that's right, Chucky,” she called to the hiding husband, “me and Benny are into good times.”

Kat suppressed a snicker and they shared a high five.

The shadow disappeared as Chuck finally took the hint and left.

Wine flowed and the talk got more raunchy and outrageous, with the single women trying to outdo the married ones with stories of their sexual exploits.

Kat took it all with a grain of salt. If half these women did what they said they did, there would be people getting laid all over the transit system, in libraries and every other public place in the city.

Most people liked their sex behind closed doors, she thought while she completed her last order form of the night. Amid the hubbub of feminine giggles and wine-induced sexual confessions, she collected her inventory. The commission from tonight would pay for her next month's utility bills and groceries. Not bad.

Many times she'd fantasized about climbing from her bedroom window into Taye's. Usually the fantasy began at a party just like this one where uninhibited talk got her revved. She often wondered if any of the women she spoke with had similar fantasies of being the dark faceless stranger rather than submitting to one.

Climbing in Taye's window would be a fabulous way to end a night. He'd be asleep, barely stirring under the covers as she silently lifted the sheet at his feet. She could start at his toes and work her way up his legs, over his knees to his groin. Oh! The fun they'd have pretending he was being ravaged in the silent dark. By the time she reached his cock, it would be straining and full. Ready for her mouth to carry him into ecstasy. She wondered what he tasted like…

She blinked and forced her thoughts back to reality. The hostess had asked her a question and looked at her with amusement.

“Care for some wine? You've been talking all night, you must be dry.”

Dry? Hardly. “No, thanks, I don't drink at work. Not good for you. The more I focus on booking new parties, the better for you.” The easy line was a gentle way to refuse her hostess's hospitality without offense.

Besides, if she and Taye ended up in bed together, she wanted a clear head. She replayed their conversation in her mind, trying not to embellish the heat she'd seen in his gaze or the throaty way he'd said her name.

Clearly he'd been hinting at waiting for her so they could have sex. She wasn't that far removed from the man–woman push–pull thing that happened between adults that she could get his signals wrong. Surely not.

The conversations she overheard were enough to make a girl's head spin, wine or no wine. She wondered what Taye would think of them. Maybe he'd like to hear some. If they cranked her up, there was no telling what he would think.

Creative scenarios played out as a lively discussion broke out over the virtues of oral sex with a tongue piercing versus without. The conversation swirled through her head, conjuring images of Taye's head between her legs, her hands twining in his barely there curls. Needing to get home, fast, she quickly shoved the last of the toys into her sample case.

Moisture pearled into Kat's panties as she hurried her goodbyes.

Behind the wheel, her nerves screamed at each red light and stop sign. Every shift of the clutch made her pussy pulse with achy need.

Ten minutes later it started.

The doubt, the second-guessing. She groaned aloud as a chastising inner voice told her she shouldn't assume Taye wanted her on nothing more than a couple of steamy looks. All he'd done was promise to fix a lightbulb.

The fact that it was a much smaller, tighter bulb that needed screwing didn't matter. She was foolish to pin her hopes on a brief conversation where she'd all but thrown herself at him.

She hadn't given him a chance to escape, blabbing about her deliveries and whining about the dead lightbulb.

The poor man had only been placating her. Taye was kind, that's all. She was foolish to go to his door.

The clock on the dash said 11:15. Too late for the good-neighbor routine.

But if she didn't take this slim chance, she would have to listen to Celia's smug comments for weeks. She would have to wonder every day if Celia and Taye—

She couldn't go there.

She told her inner whiner to shut the hell up and stepped on the gas.

Twenty minutes later, she pulled her car into her garage and shut off the engine. With one hand on the wheel and the other on the gearshift knob she gathered her courage.

Whatever happened she would hold her head up.

She tried to conjure some of the images that had tempted and teased her all night but had no luck. The only thing she could pull into her mind was Taye's quiet smile and the way he'd gone red when he handed over the package. He'd let her know that he knew about the dong, that it was okay for her to have needs.

What she wanted, needed, craved was Taye.

Unadorned, unadulterated sex with Taye.

Taye, with his serious eyes and gentle smile. Her belly dropped with low, heavy need.

She climbed out of the car and wrestled her sample case from the backseat.

Outside, light shone from Taye's kitchen window brightening a square patch of his walkway. Juggling her purse and sample case, she was reminded of Taye trying to pick up her package from his front step with his briefcase, keys and mug in his hands.

She bet her ass didn't look nearly as good as his.

How pathetic was that?

His kitchen light spilled in a square of bright that made her own front door seem darker. She took a quick look through his mini-blinds and her heart stalled.

Holy Hannah! He was in his underwear. And nothing else.

He opened his refrigerator and leaned in, giving her another perfect view of his butt. Spectacular, she saw. He pulled out a bottle of water, turned to lean on the kitchen counter, giving her a perfect view of his chest. He drank the whole bottle at once.

Again, his hair looked damp. How many showers did the man need in a day?

And how delicious could a man look? His chest, lightly sprinkled with hair, narrowed down to a taut waist. His package swayed heavily in his boxer briefs.

He tossed the empty water bottle in the trash and glanced at the window. She stepped back quickly, with a gasp that sounded loud enough to be heard inside.

Shame took flight around her chest but she couldn't look away. Pathetic didn't begin to tell the tale, because nothing more than curly chest hair had turned her into a dry-mouthed Peeping Tom.

Suddenly he reached for the wand to turn the mini-blinds closed.

Frozen, unable to move for fear he'd catch her peeping him, her panties moistened, knees weakened and nipples thrummed to life. His gaze went sharp, as if he'd caught sight of a movement, and she sucked in her breath, hoping against hope he wouldn't see her watching from the shadows like a pervert. The fantasy of climbing in through his bedroom window was much more fun than the reality of being caught out here.

Obviously she'd have to wait a couple minutes to ring his doorbell. Hiding her voyeuristic tendencies seemed important. If he thought she was weird or kinky, he'd be put off.

And she was tired of living like a nun. Sick and tired of being alone in her bed. Alone in her body.

She closed her eyes and began to count off the time until she could safely ring his bell. With a little luck Taye might scoop her into his arms and press her against the wall, holding her wrists up over her head while he feasted on her lips, neck, sipping from the hollow between her collarbone, sliding down, open mouthed to one nipple then the other.

A gush of moisture in her channel woke her from the imagery long enough to set down her sample case. With a heavy breath, she set her finger to his buzzer.

And pressed.

“Sorry,” she heard from inside the door. “I went for a run and had a shower. Let me get my jeans on.”

The words
don't bother
threatened to explode out of her mouth, but the sound of Taye dashing upstairs forestalled them.

In another dash, he was down again and opening the door for her. She smiled. “Hi.”