pull them off the bed and see that they’ve never been worn.
“Monica, I can’t wear these. The tag is still attached.” I hand them back to her and watch her gently pull the tag from the jeans.
“There. Put them on. I want to see how they fit.”
I obey and drop the robe to the floor and jump as she lets out a gasp.
“What the hell are you wearing? A tank and black cotton briefs?” She holds up some sexy panties. “I found these in the back of your drawer.”
“I can’t and won’t wear them, because he’s not going to see them. I’ve never slept with anyone on my first date.” I look her dead in the eyes. “Never.”
“Is this a hard and fast rule of yours?” she asks. “Because I overheard your exchange together. Remember? I could feel the chemistry between you through the line.”
I giggle and tilt my head. “I know. There definitely was something...”
“Well, your old yoga pants didn’t scare him away so keep what you have on, but don’t forget to bring a condom just in case.”
She thrusts the jeans at me again and I take them for good this time. I squeeze myself into the legs and with a few little jumps the jeans make it over my hips. I hope they give a little after wearing them. They seem too tight, but after sucking in my stomach I get them buttoned.
“Tell me they stretch,” I say. “Because I can only hold my stomach in so long.”
“Quit whining. You look great.” She takes me by the arm. “Now, hair and makeup before the shirt goes on.”
I’m being lead into the bathroom. “Sit on the toilet, lid down.” I start to laugh and she joins me.
“Thanks so much for helping me tonight. I feel bad that I’m ditching you.” I place my hand on her forearm. “You’re a great friend. You know that, right?”
“Same to you, Em. We’ve been through a lot together these last couple of years.” She stops for a second and smiles. “Here’s how you can make up for tonight. Have something naughty to tell me tomorrow.”
She just doesn’t give up. We laugh and she gets busy with the blow dryer, tugging my head in every which direction. It’ll be a miracle if there’s any hair left when she’s finished.
After finishing my makeover, she finally allows me to look into the mirror. It’s amazing. She’s made my frizzy hair look shiny and bouncy. Those two words have never been used to describe my hair.
“Wow. How did you get my hair to do this?”
“It’s the serum I used. My stylist swears by it and I have to agree. I’ve never seen your hair so tamed.” She smiles big, proud of her creation: me.
“I’m going to buy a vat of this stuff,” I remark while touching my hair. “And my eyes look smoky but not porno. Perfect.”
“You look great if I do say so myself. But we aren’t through. Next is the top and shoes.”
“Okay, Personal Shopper. Finish me.”
We walk back to the bed and I see the shirt set out for the evening. It’s a black chiffon blouse with sleeves gathered at the wrist. The hem is longer in the back giving it a flowing look. It’s feminine and not over-the-top sexy or dressy. “I love this top,” I murmur as she helps me get the blouse on so my hair stays in place.
“Now the shoes.” She has a pair of red pumps dangling from her fingers. I know these shoes, but I’ve not seen them in ages. They’re her “one-night stand” pumps.
“Not happening. I know what you’re up to.” I back a few feet away. “I can hear my panties dropping on the ground just by looking at those evil things.”
“What are you talking about? It’s Valentine’s Day. Red works.” She’s approaching me with the shoes and I curse the fact that we wear the same size.
“True, but those shoes are dangerous. Every time you’ve worn them out they end up on the floor of an unknown man’s apartment.”
I hear her muttering but can’t make out what she’s saying. She kneels to the ground and has me lift my leg. I acquiesce and put the shoes on. Damn if
“Monica, I can’t wear these. The tag is still attached.” I hand them back to her and watch her gently pull the tag from the jeans.
“There. Put them on. I want to see how they fit.”
I obey and drop the robe to the floor and jump as she lets out a gasp.
“What the hell are you wearing? A tank and black cotton briefs?” She holds up some sexy panties. “I found these in the back of your drawer.”
“I can’t and won’t wear them, because he’s not going to see them. I’ve never slept with anyone on my first date.” I look her dead in the eyes. “Never.”
“Is this a hard and fast rule of yours?” she asks. “Because I overheard your exchange together. Remember? I could feel the chemistry between you through the line.”
I giggle and tilt my head. “I know. There definitely was something...”
“Well, your old yoga pants didn’t scare him away so keep what you have on, but don’t forget to bring a condom just in case.”
She thrusts the jeans at me again and I take them for good this time. I squeeze myself into the legs and with a few little jumps the jeans make it over my hips. I hope they give a little after wearing them. They seem too tight, but after sucking in my stomach I get them buttoned.
“Tell me they stretch,” I say. “Because I can only hold my stomach in so long.”
“Quit whining. You look great.” She takes me by the arm. “Now, hair and makeup before the shirt goes on.”
I’m being lead into the bathroom. “Sit on the toilet, lid down.” I start to laugh and she joins me.
“Thanks so much for helping me tonight. I feel bad that I’m ditching you.” I place my hand on her forearm. “You’re a great friend. You know that, right?”
“Same to you, Em. We’ve been through a lot together these last couple of years.” She stops for a second and smiles. “Here’s how you can make up for tonight. Have something naughty to tell me tomorrow.”
She just doesn’t give up. We laugh and she gets busy with the blow dryer, tugging my head in every which direction. It’ll be a miracle if there’s any hair left when she’s finished.
After finishing my makeover, she finally allows me to look into the mirror. It’s amazing. She’s made my frizzy hair look shiny and bouncy. Those two words have never been used to describe my hair.
“Wow. How did you get my hair to do this?”
“It’s the serum I used. My stylist swears by it and I have to agree. I’ve never seen your hair so tamed.” She smiles big, proud of her creation: me.
“I’m going to buy a vat of this stuff,” I remark while touching my hair. “And my eyes look smoky but not porno. Perfect.”
“You look great if I do say so myself. But we aren’t through. Next is the top and shoes.”
“Okay, Personal Shopper. Finish me.”
We walk back to the bed and I see the shirt set out for the evening. It’s a black chiffon blouse with sleeves gathered at the wrist. The hem is longer in the back giving it a flowing look. It’s feminine and not over-the-top sexy or dressy. “I love this top,” I murmur as she helps me get the blouse on so my hair stays in place.
“Now the shoes.” She has a pair of red pumps dangling from her fingers. I know these shoes, but I’ve not seen them in ages. They’re her “one-night stand” pumps.
“Not happening. I know what you’re up to.” I back a few feet away. “I can hear my panties dropping on the ground just by looking at those evil things.”
“What are you talking about? It’s Valentine’s Day. Red works.” She’s approaching me with the shoes and I curse the fact that we wear the same size.
“True, but those shoes are dangerous. Every time you’ve worn them out they end up on the floor of an unknown man’s apartment.”
I hear her muttering but can’t make out what she’s saying. She kneels to the ground and has me lift my leg. I acquiesce and put the shoes on. Damn if
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