"Wacky is right," Shelby muttered, as she tottered alongside her friend wishing she was still wearing her comfortable pumps and her familiar linen blend suit with the skirt that hit just below the knee. But no. She was about to walk into a sex shop wearing Fuck Me pumps and a skin-tight little black dress she'd borrowed from Hannah with a slit that extended from the knee-length hem all the way up to mid-thigh. They were the same height, but whereas Hannah was trim and athletic, Shelby had definite curves, which the lycra-cotton blend was clinging to like plastic wrap.
She was also wearing thong panties in defense against panty lines, and her legs were bare. Which, considering that Shelby was used to pantyhose, was a rather disconcerting experience, as she was feeling a definite breeze in places where there usually wasn't one.
Seriously, why had she listened to Hannah? Because now Shelby was about to walk into a sex toy shop dressed like she was there to buy professional supplies.
"You owe me big time," she said to Hannah.
"Fair enough. Now come on. It's already almost seven and we have to get back downtown to meet the girls at eight."
The bachelorette party was for Celia James, one of the secretaries at Brandywine Finance & Consulting, the firm where Shelby worked as a financial advisor and where Hannah served as in-house counsel. It was a low-key, mid-week affair, as Celia's college friends had taken her to Cancun for her official party. When Shelby had pointed that out to Hannah in support of the argument that work clothes--or even jeans and a blazer--would be perfectly fine, Hannah had pulled out her best friend veto power.
"Fine," Shelby said now. "But I'm still not staying late. I have to work tomorrow."
"We all have to work tomorrow," Hannah retorted, then held the glass door open. "Come on."
With a sigh, Shelby did as she was told, her eyes widening as she stood in the center of the cavernous room scoping out the displays. Walls of vibrators and dildoes. Cases of lube. Sections with handcuffs and blindfolds and other restraints. And leather. Lots of leather.
A woman with a friendly smile greeted them, asking if they needed help, but Hannah assured her they were fine. Shelby said nothing, although she may have made a small squeaking noise. It wasn't that she was a prude. She'd had sex--and not only in the missionary position, either.
But all of this was so very public.
At first, she stuck close to Hannah. But when her friend called the clerk over to explain the pros and cons of various vibrators, Shelby drifted away, finding herself near a glass case with leather handcuffs, a fur blindfold, and a roll of something that looked like electrical tape.
She bit her lower lip as her gaze skimmed over the display. A pleasant tingle started below her belly button, and she tried to imagine being naked in bed, the mask over her eyes, and her arms taped to the headboard.
She could almost feel the pressure of a man's hands on her, rough and strong as he roamed down her skin to cup her at the waist, and then the heat of his mouth on her breasts as he--
"Can I answer any questions?"
Shelby actually yelped, then teetered on her heels as she tried to steady herself. "I--um--no. I'm just waiting for my friend."
"Feel free to look around," the saleswoman said. "And if you need any help, just let me know."
"Oh. Sure. Absolutely."
The woman started to turn away, and Shelby surprised herself by saying, "Actually, what is this?" She was pointing to the roll of electrical tape. "Wouldn't that, like, hurt?"
The woman shook her head, her expression kind and professional. "It only sticks to itself. So it won't pull on your skin or leave a residue," she said. "Much more portable than handcuffs, and infinitely more versatile."
"Ohhhh!" Hannah said, coming up behind them. "Toss a roll in for me, would you?" She winked at Shelby. "We're going to make sure Celia has the best honeymoon ever. And then I think that'll do it," she told the saleswoman.
"Wonderful. Just meet me at the register when you're ready."
Hannah nodded, then nudged Shelby. "Looking for a little something for yourself? I mean, there's always Alan, right..."
Shelby frowned, thinking about Alan Lowe, the assistant professor she'd been dating ever since her mother had introduced them three months ago, assuring her that the two of them would be perfect together. And they were. Alan was sweet and polite and thoughtful. And the two times they'd slept together had been perfectly fine. But--
She shook her head. "I don't think bondage tape is Alan's thing."
Hannah's lips thinned as she very obviously held back a laugh.
"What?"
"I just find your word choice interesting. Not Alan's thing? Does that mean it is yours?"
Shelby rolled her eyes. "Oh, please," she said. "Go pay, and let's get out of here."
Hannah glanced at her watch. "Shit. We really do need to get going." As she hurried toward the checkout, Shelby glanced one more time at the cuffs and tape.