Page 22 of The Bad Girl
She waggles her brow, and I feel my chest tightening.
I downcast my gaze, trying to make my expression into a poker face. Over the last forty-eight hours, Nadine has been taking up more of my headspace, or rather, she’s become my every waking thought. I had believed, erroneously, that when I figured out why she was wearing that ill-fitting getup, the mystery would be solved, and I’d be back to normal.
I was wrong.
And now, seeing her in skin-tight clothing with her newly uncovered cleavage taking orders from Stacey, I’m practically beguiled.
“You’re right, she’s a pretty woman.”
“You sure are taking a lot of interest in her.”
“If by interest you mean helping her land the man she’s been lusting for since she was a teen, yes, I am.”
“Oh come on, you know this doesn’t have a chance of working.”
“Do I?”
“Tom’s gonna fuck her. What sane man wouldn’t? She’s that sitcom mom boys jerk off to when they’re fifteen and can’t figure out how to get porn. Well, nowadays, I suppose it’s a lot easier for them.”
“Sitcom mom? She’s twenty-four.”
“That girl was born with an old soul.”
The door opens, and in walks Nadine in the lilac dress, clutching her breasts.
“Honey, that ain’t bad girl,” Stacey says, eyeing Nadine pointedly.
She releases her breasts.
Wow!
I’ve seen Nadine enter a room at least a thousand times, but never like this. It’s not so much that she’s edgy, or even innocent, it’s just that she’s real and vulnerable. I can’t pry my eyes away.
“The freakin’ bra you have me in damn near adds three cups!”
It’s not an exaggeration. Nadine already has a rack that’s hard to miss even though she covers it. With the bra Stacey’s put her in, it has her somewhere in the G cup range.
“Alright, I may have been a little ambitious with that detail.”
Nadine’s arms twist towards her back to undo the fasten, and in a flash, she’s snaking her arms through the straps and tugging the cups from her breasts until finally, she throws the bra it to the floor.
Groan.
She’s stunning, and it’s not just her magnificent tits that are so captivating. It’s the curve of her hips; her blonde, upswept hair; the way she bites her lip when she’s nervous. She’s perfect.
The dress is full-length, with two long slits extending up the side. Through the slits, I see a hint of the black thigh-high boots she’s wearing.
It’s the perfect blend of innocent and sexy, a way she can look professional while sprinkling in a splash of mystery. The outfit says, “There’s more to me than what meets the eye, not that you’ll ever get a chance to find out,” and it has me entranced.
At the same time I say, “It’s perfect,” Stacey says, “It’s too much.”
We look to each other, Stacey’s green eyes glaring a challenge.
“Nadine’s the girl next door, and every guy wants their girl next door to have a naughty side,” I say.
“I don’t know,” Stacey looks back at Nadine, “it gives me a ‘try-hard’ vibe.”
“Well, it’s either this or nothing because there’s no way I’m changing again,” Nadine states matter-of-factly.
Stacey rolls her eyes and puts up a dismissive hand. “Fine.”
