CHAPTER SEVEN — STEPHANIE
Oh my God, I can't believe I'm doing this.
My hands tremble as I push down my skimpy light pink thong.
My legs wobble, and I have to reach out my right hand, resting against the cool bathroom stall door, as I shimmy the flimsy material down my sweaty legs.
I wobble as I step one high-heeled foot out of the underwear, then the other. Oh my God.
I sit down on the toilet, my bare skin hitting the white porcelain.
My green dress is hiked up above my hips, pink thong balled up in my hand.
What does Philip have up his sleeve? For some reason, I feel like this isn't just another kinky idea of his.
I feel like he's scheming, which makes me nervous and excited.
I remember what he said about five minutes, though, so I quickly stand up, shimmy down my dress — not that it goes that much lower anyway, given how short it is — and exit the stall door.
I go to wash my hands and stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes look wide. But also, I'll admit, I look hot. My light brown hair is tousled. I curled it earlier, and the curls have now fallen into sexy waves.
There's a slight sheen on my skin, and I look somewhere between glowing and like a woman who just finished a SoulCycle class. My cheeks are flushed, and my eyes are sparkling.
I stuff the pink thong into the top of my dress, then turn on the faucet and lather my hands. I grab a paper towel and thoroughly dry them, regulating my breathing.
I don't know what's about to happen next, but I'm excited. I toss the paper towel in the trash bin, turn on one of my four-inch heels, and leave.