“It’s barely seventy-three.”
“So, like a sauna.” I step back and wipe a hand across my forehead.
“It’s not a sauna, you big baby. Saunas are in the hundreds. I only turned the heat up a little because I couldn’t get ready wearing this dress. I didn’t want makeup to get on it.”
“You walked around your house with just that thing on? You don’t even have shades on any of the windows on the first floor!” Jesus, Son of Mary, she trotted around in this piece of bone and lace that sucked in her waist and pushed her boobs up high enough to spill out the top of her dress. My knees feel like jelly.
“No one cares,” she says crossly.
“Your neighbor, Frank, is a dirty old man. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“He’s half blind. That’s why he’s always squinting. Besides, if he really was a danger, you wouldn’t have let me move in here. I know you ran a background check on everyone on this street. Now zip. My back is getting cold.” She wiggles again.
I’ve done some hard things in my life. I was in the Army, for fuck’s sake. I survived on gross MREs in the desert carrying around a rucksack that weighed twice my body weight. But zipping Daphne into this bridesmaid’s dress is going to be my undoing. I can feel it. My fingers are trembling. I’m sweating like I’ve run ten miles. There’s a rock in my throat, blocking most of my oxygen and all my blood is pooling in my dick. I back up slightly so the damn thing doesn’t poke her in the ass.
How many times do I have to remind you that Daphne is a friend, I mentally yell at my dick. He just pulses in excitement at being so close to Daphne’s body decked out in the sexiest piece of lingerie that has ever been constructed.
I’d seen one of these before. Anderson, the guy who’s out on paternity leave, has a collection of Instagram models he follows and he’s not shy about sharing his faves with you. There are plenty of women wearing this type of underwear but none that look like Daphne. She’s full of curves and valleys. Her nipped-in waist is begging for my hand. The delicate line of her spine invites my tongue. The dress gapes open just enough that I can see a shadow of her ass below the frilly hem of the corset.
Dude, you’re an Army vet. You stared down the barrels of insurgent guns. You can zip this damned dress up.
“Is your sister making all the bridesmaids wear this shit or just you?” I reach for the zipper pull and tug it upwards. It slides easily on the metal teeth., but because I like pain, I go slow, savoring the heat of Daphne’s body near my fingers. My knuckles brush against the lace, buckling my knees and taking the breath from my lungs. I close my eyes to collect my marbles. It isn’t easy. They’re scattered all over. One’s in the right corner of my head, peeling this dress off with my teeth. Another is in the left corner, getting down on the floor and pushing her legs open wide so I can get a good taste. Still another is pushing her face down onto the mattress and flipping her skirt over her head.
“All of us. Wendy wanted us all to look alike, down to our underwear, otherwise I’d never be wearing this uncomfortable thing. I feel like it’s cutting off all my circulation. I can’t wait to get out of it.”
Me either. An unhappy thought drops. If she needs my help getting into the dress, who is helping her out of it? I’ve been to a few weddings and the bride and groom are always trying to set up their single friends. I’ve had to fend off a few overly friendly bridesmaids who have treated me like a wedding favor. My eyes narrow.
“Who’s the guy who is walking with you down the aisle?” Is he the one you’re going to be asking to take you out of this dress?
“Trevor somebody. I can’t remember his last name. He’s one of Greg’s college buddies.”
“So a douchebag.” Greg, Daphne’s soon-to-be brother-in-law, is one of guys who still talks about his frat even though they all graduated over a decade ago.
“Yeah, pretty much. The good thing about this awful dress is that it basically serves as a deterrent to the opposite sex. It’s as good as putting a stop sign on our chest.”
The idea of another man taking this dress off of Daphne turns me cold. I finish zipping the dress. “When you’re ready to get out of it, call me. I’ll do it,” I inform her.
She meets my eyes in the mirror and frowns when she sees my glare. “I’m sure there will be someone around who can do it.”