Page 35 of Property of Bull
“Welcome to…” The lady behind the counter calls out before abruptly stopping. “Oh, you’re The King, I mean, Bull. I’m sorry. We haven’t met but I’ve been to some parties out at your clubhouse. Most of the girls call you The King, you know, like King of the Kings of…”
“My Ol’ Lady needs some bra and panty sets,” I say cutting her off and giving her the hint to shut the fuck up. “Some nighties too, please.”
“Of course. What colors do you like?” she asks me.
“He likes what I like,” Margo states without missing a beat and that’s when the clerk finally looks at her.
“Oh, okay. Um, what are you a 38C?” the woman asks, pointing Margo toward a far corner of the store.
With those two out of my hair, I hunt around for butt plugs, lube, and a few other items; determined to teach Margo everything.
“Your body’s great,” I hear the clerk say as they walk back to the counter some time later. “Now, we also have fake lashes if you want to accentuate your eyes. I just can’t believe you went out without makeup last night, you’re so brave.”
Catching the tail end of their conversation, I notice that Margo’s cheeks are decidedly redder than they were when we walked in.
Reaching out, I place a finger under her chin to direct her gaze up to me as I scan her face. “Why the hell would you need makeup?”
“I wear eyeliner, but my skin doesn’t react well to it, so I never got into the habit,” she tells me with a shrug.
“Are you upset?” I ask, trying to figure out why she looks like a tomato. She quickly shakes her head, so I’m left thinking she’s just embarrassed.
“Oh! I see you found some other toys!” the clerk squeaks, holding up a dildo.
“I’ll meet you at the truck,” Margo says but is gone before I can toss her the keys, so I unlock it from where I’m waiting at the register.
I’m not sure what’s going on, but I stand there glaring at the woman until she’s wrapped everything up and given me my change.
Getting in, I turn to check on Margo, but she waves her hand at the steering column. “Let’s go, let’s go!”
When I pull into traffic, the woman beside me lets out a sigh of relief.
“Now are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“I got you this,” she says as I’m stopping at a red light.
Turning to look at her, she holds up what I assume to be Rudolph the Red-Nose reindeer. Except it’s a men’s thong, complete with antlers sticking up above the red string, and Rudolph’s face printed on the sack meant to hold my dick.
“Did you steal that?” I ask, choking on my laughter. A blare of a horn gets my attention and swerving away from the dividing line, I continue driving back toward Clear Creek.
“Of course I stole it! There’s no way I was going to letChatty Cathyback there have the opportunity to tell everyone what you’re going to wear on Christmas Eve.”
“Are you still drunk? There’s no way in hell that I’m going to wear that.”
“Please? For me.”
“No.”
“Stryker, it’s that or the dildo. Take your pick.”
I snort at her tone, shooting her a glance I see her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes hardening.Oh, fuck me.
“What size did yousteal?”
“Extra-large,” she smugly replies.
“Thief,” I label her.
“Takes one to know one,” she shoots right back.
