Chapter 20 #3
“Because these things are not that big.” Nala shrugged. She was in the presence of women who didn’t wish to leer at her breasts. No big deal… or so she thought. The helper tugged on the loose tape and wrote something down on a pad. Robin peeked through two fingers.
“I could never get away with that. My boobs are too big to feel comfortable. I even sleep in one… how do you manage?”
“It doesn’t bother me.”
“Well,” the helper interrupted. “Let’s start you at a 34C. I think you’ll find it’s more comfortable.”
“That’s cool.”
Nala supposed her breasts could have grown since she was last measured at a lingerie shop years ago.
After all, she had been seventeen then. Now she was twenty-one and with a womanlier body.
When the helper brought a plain black sampler to try on, Nala shrugged into it, surprised to find it fit.
The helper pulled on the snaps and announced they may want to try a 32 next after all.
“I don’t like wearing bras…” Nala said.
“Gale, honey…” Robin put a kind hand on her friend’s shoulder before sidling close and whispering into her ear.
“This isn’t your run-of-the-mill lingerie shop. I mean, you could wear some of these things on the daily, but it’s more about… you know…”
She faked a cough. “Being sexy. For your confidence, and to put your Mistress’s lady bits in a fun place. You know. For your benefit. Ahem.”
Did she say Mistress’s lady bits? Robin was a fucking trip.
Nala would have to be caught dead with psychedelics strewn around her corpse to say something like that.
“I see. Thanks for the perspective.” Good to know Varen sent her here to get sexy undies.
Sure, she’d tell her they were for The Aviary, but Nala knew the truth.
She wants to see me in lingerie. Lace. Silk.
Satin. Rioting colors and soft pastels. Panties with holes in them and bras that came apart in the front.
Nala was ready to leave. Nightingale, however, was deeply intrigued.
I wonder how horny this could get a woman like that. It could be a game. Get Varen aroused, make her endure a striptease with underwear like this as a treat…
Nala hurried to get her blouse back on and rushed into the gallery, where racks upon racks of lingerie awaited. Robin hustled to keep up, and the helper followed as well, asking if she could get Nala started with anything.
Yes. I need five bras, ten pairs of panties, and whatever these corset things are. I need to be on fire. A woman is paying me to dress up like the classiest escort she’s ever had the pleasure of purchasing the services of, and I intend to deliver for my sugar mommy!
Robin attempted to help Nala shop for lingerie, but someone was a tornado of grabbing, trying on, rejecting, or accepting, and furiously asking a million questions about style, color, and materials.
Would this make her itch? Would this shrink in the wash?
How should she wash this stuff, anyway? If the panties were thirty a piece, did that mean she could ask for more on the sexy black market?
Girl had to think long-term past Varen’s weekly payments.
“Hey, guess what,” she texted Varen while waiting for her purchases to be rang up.
“What?”
“You bought me fifty pairs of underwear.”
The fact it took her so long to reply – when they were in an elevator with Robin on the phone and asking her driver to meet them up front – made Nala wonder if Varen were this busy after five or having a moment to herself.
Robin talked about lingerie giving her confidence, but Nala was pretty sure mentioning underwear to a woman and getting her to take it to the corner was better.
Or at least for someone like her it was.
“I couldn’t have you tramping around in used panties, now could I?”
Nala was surprised she remembered that. “I don’t have room for this stuff at my place. Can I dump most of it at yours?”
“I’ll be home at six. Anytime after that is fine.”
What was Nala supposed to do until then? It was barely after five.
As if Robin read her mind, she said in the elevator, “Let’s get dinner. Lucian won’t be home until late. We haven’t had time for a real chat, anyway.”
“Sure. You pick.” Nala plucked the black card out of Robin’s hand. “I’ll take this over for now. I’m sure my Mistress won’t mind.” Besides, she could give it back to Varen later.
Robin took them toward Burnside, to a restaurant sitting atop a historical building and boasting some of the “best seafood” around.
What is it with rich people and seafood?
Was it a Portland transplant thing? Even when Nala moved back from the desert, she had no desire to try the local fresh-caught salmon. Or the factory-farmed, for that matter.
They had their own corner in the half-empty restaurant. Robin claimed a booth while Nala sat in a wooden chair across from her. The waitress hadn’t come by with water and taken away their orders when Robin opened her big, gossiping mouth.
“So, Gale, tell me everything,” she said, teeth bared. “How good is Ms. Lake in bed?”
The glass Nala held was dumped on the table. Water spilled everywhere, including on Robin’s lap.
And that was how Nala responded to the least invasive question that night.