Page 71 of Blush

Amanda

After Michael kicked my ass for an hour, he asked if he could see me again, not as a trainer.

I said yes.

I said yes because Jack and I are never going to happen. I said yes because I need to get on with my life.

I said yes because it was empowering.

Michael is the first magnificently good-looking man who has ever shown any kind of interest in me. I’m not going to screw it up. He didn’t make a date with me yet, so I’m back at my place, and the workout has left me oddly euphoric. Oh, I’m going to feel it tomorrow, but tonight? I need to do something.

My gaze falls on my laptop sitting on the counter.

Lustr…

I want to go back to that club.

Of course, the chance of me meeting someone who will take me down there is in the one percent range, but why not try?

First, I need some better clothes. I was just at Macy’s with Frankie this morning, but they don’t carry the kind of garments I’m after. In fact, I have no idea where to get leather and lace and whatever else. But this is what the internet is for. Two clicks later, I find a store—a lingerie shop, actually, but they also stock leather goods.

Treasure’s Chest. An interesting name. Two subway stops away, and I’m there. It’s a tiny hole-in-the-wall that looks rather unassuming from the outside.

Inside, though? I feel like I just walked into a mannequin dungeon.

A smiling clerk with pretty auburn hair walks toward me. “Good afternoon.”

“Hi.”

“Are you looking for anything specific today?”

My cheeks are on fire. I’m sure my blush is candy-apple red. She’s here to help, so I should just tell her what I want.

Except I’m not exactly sure what I want. Some of the women at the club were wearing pretty normal clothes. Others…not so much.

“I think I’ll just look for a while,” I say.

“Absolutely,” she says. “If you need any help, my name is Mary.”

Mary. I can’t help a subtle smile. Mary is working in a lingerie and leather store. Mary—the most innocent and sweet name on the planet.

Mary, however, is dressed in leather pants and an emerald-green lace corset that has her boobs squeezed nearly up to her neck. She totally doesnotlook like a Mary. Felicia, maybe. Samantha or Jessica. Definitely not Mary.

I wander through the store and stop at the lingerie section. Boy, this stuff is beautiful. And not even remotely inexpensive.

Still, wouldn’t it be lovely to have a bra and panties that actually match? I’m drawn to a lacy set. It comes in all colors, and they have my bra size.

I grab a bra and boy shorts in both black and light pink.

I’m not sure why those two colors appeal to me. Maybe it’s the contrariness of them. Pink for sweet and innocent. Black for naughty and not so innocent.

Naughty and nice. I feel like I’m making a list for Santa Claus.

Felicia—er, Mary—is right on my heels. “Can I take those up to the counter for you?”

“Sure.” I hand the items to her. “I’m still looking.”

“Absolutely no hurry. Let me know if you need any assistance.”