The Panty Dropper (Valentine's Love in the City Short) (2 page)

BOOK: The Panty Dropper (Valentine's Love in the City Short)
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“Thanks,” I reply after the flowers are safely in my hand. “I appreciate you bringing them down to me.”

“No problem,” he says as he moves away from the wall and toward the door. “Guess I better head back upstairs.”

I want to scream, DON’T GO! Instead, I start to follow his movements as he approaches the door.

“Thanks again.” I throw out a couple of words to keep the conversation going, hoping that maybe he’ll stay a few seconds longer. His fingers cover the doorknob and he starts to turn it.

Damn, he’s leaving. I feel my face turning into a full blown pout.
Attractive, no doubt.

He pulls the door open in a super slow manner. So slow it has to be deliberate. My heart nearly skips a beat as it hopes...

Then his movement stops and he turns around to face me. There’s a slight smirk on his lips.

Oh please, oh please, I silently plead. Ask me anything.

“I’m not sure what you have planned tonight.” He pauses as his eyes scan over my clothes likely assessing what I’m wearing or not wearing. Definitely not “going out” threads.

“Well,” he continues. “I bought some food to cook on the way home.
Nothing fancy. Just pasta. Would you like to come up for dinner in about an hour? I need to get the place presentable.”

And there it is.
Plain as the nose on my face. I’m sporting an earsplitting grin and have to lock my knees to keep from jumping up and down. There’s no way I can answer him and look cool at this point, so I just go with it. Here comes the real me...

“Oh yes, I’d love to join you.”
Love
and
you
in the same sentence don’t seem to scare him. In fact he appears relieved. Guess even Panty Droppers have insecurities. Good to know.

“Great.” His enthusiasm can’t be missed and we now have matching grins.
Just too damn cute. “I’ll head up and start on the  presentable part.”

“I’ll do the same.” At his questioning look, I explain, “The presentable part.” I laugh as I tug at my five sizes too big t-shirt.

“You’re fine and look comfortable.” He has to be kidding, but I don’t think he is.

“I’ll upgrade my comfortable though,” I say.

“Okay. See you in a few.” And he winks at me. Winks and smirks, then closes the door. I fall against it and slide down to the floor. I think my move is called a supported swoon.

But I can’t rest on my laurels for long, I have one hour to turn from sweatpants girl into a snappy, casual
hottie.

I get up, still a bit shaky, possibly from adrenaline and hormones. Both seem to be on overdrive. Reaching for my phone on the entry table, I pick it up and touch the black screen. I need to see the time. I have to pace myself. But instead of the time, I see my call with Monica never ended... Holy shit, she heard the entire exchange I had with The Panty Dropper.

“Oh my God, Monica. I’m so...” She doesn’t let me continue.

“Don’t say another word,
Em. I’ll be right up.” And the call goes dead.

 

 

Ready, Set, Go

 

While I’m waiting for Monica to arrive, my vocabulary has consisted of three words. Oh. My.
God. Spoken repeatedly as I walk around in circles by the door and occasionally glance at myself in the mirror. Which doesn’t help at all.

Finally, she knocks and I swing the door open to see her arms loaded down with clothes, shoes and a couple of makeup bags. She walks right past me, not even stopping to say hello.

“Em, follow me,” she says over her shoulder. I’m stunned but shut the door and follow.

“Yes, mistress.”
I giggle.

“Oh, you have no idea. You will do everything I say,
capiche
?” she laughs but I can sense she’s not to be trifled with right now.

“Can you believe it?” I ask as we enter my bedroom. “He invited me up to his apartment.”

“He invited you,” she stops and assesses my attire, “looking like that?”

“Do I look that bad?”

“Yes, but all the more reason to think he really likes you for you.” She speaks while placing everything in her arms on my bed. The spread takes over the entire thing.

After she’s finished and her arms are empty, she turns to me and points to my master bath.
“Into the shower. Exfoliate and shave... everything.”

“Everything?”
I think I know what she means, but, really, I’ve never had sex on a first date. No matter how much I’ve had to drink. Surely, she doesn't think I might drop my panties for him in spite of his nickname.

“You heard me. Use the razor everywhere!” She’s looking at me and seems annoyed.

I back into the bathroom, afraid to say anymore. She returns to the bed and searches through the items on it.

“I don’t think this will work.” I watch her toss a couple pairs of jeans onto the floor as she talks to herself. “These skinny jeans are perfect, though.”

She moves to the other side of the bed and sees me standing by the bath’s door. Her disapproving glare makes me scurry toward the shower.

“I’m going,” I yell, grabbing a towel and new razor.

 

Freshly showered and shaved, I’m standing beside Monica in my bathrobe. She displays the outfit that I’m wearing tonight. There isn’t room to question her. The thought of even doing so scares me, to be honest.

She’s chosen a pair of dark jeans with a little subtle acid wash over the front. I 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 they don’t fit great.

“Alright, I’ll wear them, but I’m breaking their bad reputation tonight,” I state.

“Whatever.” She hands me a tube of lipstick. “Wear this one tonight. It’s the perfect red for you.”

“I don’t wear red.”

“How many Panty Droppers have asked you out in your life?” I look at her defeated. “Exactly, so pucker up and go with it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this bossy before.” I’m standing in front of the mirror over my dresser applying the lipstick. She’s right, the color looks great.

“I’m your biggest cheerleader tonight and don’t mean to come across bossy. But an opportunity like this doesn’t come knocking at your door every day.” We both catch the irony and burst out laughing.

“So true.”
I stand up and face her, placing my hands out to the side. “What do you think?”

“You look great,” she approves. “There’s something about you tonight. I bet he can’t keep his hands off you.”

“It’s strange. I feel different too.” I’m nervous in an excited way, not the usual
I wonder if he likes me
mood. It’s pretty clear he does. The connection was there earlier.

“One more thing.”
Monica reaches into her bag of tricks and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. “Show me to your shot glasses.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I warn.

“Just one. It’ll loosen you up. Besides you never get sick when you mix alcohol. You old rock gut.”

I place two shot glasses on the counter and watch the amber liquid pour from the bottle. We pick them up and tap them against each other.

“Here’s to Valentine’s Day. Who knows? It may become the best day of your life.”

“Yeah, who knows? Cheers.” I place the glass to my lips and slam the whiskey back. “Wow. I forgot how wicked that stuff is. I’ll need a breath mint for sure now.”

Monica digs around in her purse and hands me some mints. “We can’t have you reeking of booze.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. I need to spray on some perfume.” Before the whole word perfume is out of my mouth, I see Monica holding her cherished Chanel No. 5. “Jeez, you’re quick.”

She has me hold out my arms like she’s spraying me with bug repellent. I’m afraid that she’s overdoing it, but her movements are quick and few. It’s like I’ve been spritzed not doused, so hopefully, I won’t overwhelm him.

Him.
Ethan, The Panty Dropper. I can’t believe my luck.

Glancing at the clock on the microwave I see that I need to leave now or I’ll be late.

“Well, this is it,” I tell Monica bending down to grab my tote. “Wish me luck.”

“I hope you both get lucky.” Monica can’t quit the push for us to have sex and I give her the stink eye. “Hey, I’m living vicariously through you tonight.”

“I know.”  After giving her a hug, I head to the door. “Thanks for everything. I mean it. And if I’m never heard from again, his name is Ethan Murphy, apartment 814.”

“Got it,” she says with a smile. “I’ll stay and clean off your bed, though I hope you don’t sleep in it tonight.”

Funny, but something inside of me just might be fine with that too.

 

Dinner is served

 

I take the elevator up to his floor. It’s just two flights via the stairs, but I can’t risk twisting my ankle in these heels. As the elevator carries me up, I get almost giddy. The door opens and I walk out into the hall taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down.

There are fewer apartments on his floor than on mine. Since it’s the top of the building, I’m imagining they’re more spacious, penthouse style. The thought makes me wonder what he does to afford such a place. He seems fairly young, around thirty or so.

BOOK: The Panty Dropper (Valentine's Love in the City Short)
10.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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