“Oh, but I suppose the female ones are okay, though,” I argue.
“Well, yes, nothing wrong with the females.” His smile is back now. “Besides, if it’s a lap dance you’re after, I’d be happy to give you a private one when we get home.” He winks.
“Oh, you sleazy bastard!” Sasha exclaims in horror. “Stop perving on my friend.”
“Lana loves it when I perve on her,” he replies, giving me a confident wink.
The store assistant looks completely exasperated at this point. “Sir, might I suggest the black Armani?”
“Yes, I did like that one. I think I might go black on black on black tonight. What do you say, girls?”
“You might end up looking like the devil,” Sasha tells him.
“Or Johnny Cash,” Robert counters.
“Or a rugby player from New Zealand,” I add.
“Or a Goth,” says Sasha.
“Or a self-serious fashion designer,” I say with a giggle.
“Or a beatnik,” Sasha counters.
“Okay, okay, I get it. You’re not changing my mind,” says Robert, turning to the assistant. “I’ll go for the black one. Could you bring me some black shirts and ties to look at?”
“Of course,” says the blond man before rushing off to fulfil the task.
Sasha gets a bored look on her face. “Right, I need to go send some emails. Be back in a minute.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket before walking to the front of the shop where there’s better internet reception.
When I glance at Robert, he’s checking out how the suit jacket looks on him in the mirror.
“Ugh, you’re so used to this,” I say, cringing.
“What do you mean?”
“Having an assistant to help you shop. I hate it even in the cheap stores when the girls come and ask if you need anything.”
“That’s because you’re a scared little mouse who doesn’t want to interact.”
“It’s not that. It’s just that shop girls intimidate me, and I always do stuff to make things awkward.”
“Like what?”
“Like staring at their hair to avoid eye contact. Or laughing to cover up silences when nothing funny was said.”
“Huh, I hadn’t noticed you do that with me. Then again, I’m not a shop girl, and it’s probably because we’re always too busy eye-fucking each other for you to be paying any attention to my hair.”
“Robert!”
He laughs, all low and gravelly. “What? You know it’s true.”
“I do not. And that term…I don’t like it.”
He turns around and walks toward me, slipping off the jacket. “What term, Lana?” he whispers, before kneeling down and pressing his hands into the arms of the chair on either side of me. He leans in, bringing his lips to my earlobe, and sucks it gently into his mouth. I think I might spontaneously combust. Then, with his voice even softer now, he says, “Eye fucking?”
He puts an extra emphasis on the “F” that makes my throat get dry. I squirm in my seat. “Yes,” I whisper, and I can’t tell if I mean yes, eye fucking or yes, keep doing that. I think he gets the message, though, because with his eyes trained on the door of the dressing room to make sure the assistant isn’t on his way back, he sucks even harder and runs his hand up the inside of my thigh. My legs fall open involuntarily. I breathe out a long stream of breath as he presses his fingers down gently and starts rubbing between my legs over the fabric of my shorts.
“Oh, God,” I whisper, my body going limp. I let my face fall to the warm hollow of his neck.
His answering chuckle vibrates right through me.
The heel of his palm presses harder, and his fingers move faster. He seems to know the exact spot to touch, and before I know it my cheeks have grown hot and I’m experiencing my first ever non-self-inflicted orgasm. Robert’s tongue flicks along my ear, and his breathing quickens as I shake against him.
“Oh, wow, you should see yourself right now,” he whispers, eyes consuming me.
I take several shuddering gasps of air.
He moves his hand from between my legs and cups my face. Next, he lays a quick kiss on my lips before rising to stand just as the assistant returns with the shirts and ties. I stay sitting there, unable to move, as I realise that yes, that did just happen. Robert stands facing the mirror as he examines several ties. His eyes aren’t on the ties, though; his eyes are on me, and they’re scorching hot. I look away and try to steady my breathing.
“This one is charcoal,” says the assistant, “and this one here is ebony. We also have ash, onyx, and liquorice if you’d like to try those on, too.”
Robert gives him a wry smile. “Oh, no, but I had my heart set on obsidian.”
“Well…” says the guy, a bit flustered, “we could always order some in.”
Robert starts to laugh now, and I can’t help giving a small giggle myself.
“Oh, you’re joking with me,” says the assistant, sobering. “Very well. I’ll leave you to decide yourself.” And with that he turns on his heel and goes to attend another customer.
“That was mean,” I say as Robert expertly folds a tie around his neck.
“Come on, he was asking for it. Look at them — they’re all black.”
“Yeah, I guess they are.”
“So,” says Robert, turning back around from the mirror to face me. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Shut up,” I reply, shifting my eyes away, my cheeks flaming red.
“You came really quickly,” he continues with a grin. “I might be mistaken, but I think you must like me, Lana. I think you must really like me.”
His voice caresses my name, and I can’t take it. “I’m going to check on Sasha.”
His laughter follows me out the door.
Eleven
Sasha’s standing just outside the shop, tapping away on her phone. She glances at me sideways, still keeping one eye on the screen. “What’s wrong?”
I let out a sigh. “Nothing. Your brother just takes forever to decide on an outfit. He’s worse than half the girls I know.”
Sasha pauses typing to look at me now. “You seem flushed. Are you feeling sick?”