Page 41 of Love Undecided
“Um, hell to the yeah!”
“I know, right?! Oh Kat, I’m so in love with this right now!” She lifts her glass and smells it again. “I’m so in love with myself for making this!”
Remi, my other bestie, arrives and strolls down the aisle in the barrel room. “Ugh, I always forget how cold it is in here!” She shivers delicately.
“Hey, babe!” I yell down to her.
“Hey, beautiful girl,” Lexie yells. “Grab a jacket and join us!”
Remi looks up at us, both straddling barrels, fifteen feet in the air, with near full wine glasses in our hands. Then she looks down at herself, and back up the racks.
“That’s not going to happen,” she responds drily.
Lexie takes a closer look at Remi.
“Whoa, Nelly, did you wear that to work?” she asks.
Remi looks incredible, as usual, even if her outfit is a little Daisy Duke meets Rosie the Riveter. Red bandana tied in her hair, short sleeved fitted plaid shirt, high waisted jean short shorts, and the most adorable pair of patent leather, platform, peep-toe Mary Janes I’d ever seen.
Remi is the epitome of a pin-up girl centerfold from the 1950s. And Lexie and I both agree Remi would make the perfect spokesmodel forLovestone,but she won't agree to it.
“I did. And before you say anything you should know that I have been getting total sexist shit from the guys in QA about my designs and prototypes.”
“Like, sexist, sexist?” Lexie asks.
“Total. Sexist. Shit. As in saying that I cannot possibly put together a plausible prototype because I am a woman, an attractive woman, who did not graduate from an Ivy League school.”
“Seriously?” I ask.
“They try to pass it off as joking, but they do it all the time and it is really starting to make me angry. So since the sexist fucking company policy only includes a dress code for men, I have been wearing my skimpiest outfits all week. If they are going to ‘accuse’ me of being an attractive woman, then I am going to fucking show them an attractive woman.”
“I love you,” I tell her, smiling.
“Oh my! New shoes?” Lexie asks.
“Thank you for noticing and, yes, they are new and not even resale. Ladies, meet my first pair of Christian Louboutins.” Remi holds her foot up daintily.
“Ohmigosh! Ohmigosh! Lemme see!” Lexie scrambles for the ladder and pretty much throws herself to the floor to get to the shoes. Even though Lexie’s daily footwear consisted of Chucks or Doc Martens, she can still appreciate a beautiful shoe when she saw it.
“Oh, they are so pretty,” Lexie croons. “I just want to pet them like a puppy.” And she proceeds to do just that.
I carefully make my way down the ladder so I too can admire the shoes. They truly are a thing of beauty. Just like everything in Remi’s wardrobe.
Before leaving my law practice, I owned a wardrobe consisting primarily of conservative power suits. So, I had recently been converting to tight jeans, slutty tops, and every single pair of ‘fuck me’ shoes, boots, and heels I could find.
“These go in the share pile, right?” I ask Remi. She and I wear the same size eight shoe and size M top. Anything that I can borrow from her, I do. Even though I have four inches on Remi's height, I’m mostly legs and ass to Remi's voluptuous curves. But, since I also have the tits, I can borrow anything of Remi's from the waist up or the knees down.
Lexie, however, is the epitome ofpetite, three inches shorter than even Remi, with a respectable B-Cup, tiny waist, and little size six feet. Which unfortunately means she would drown in anything Remi or I, with our D-Cups, might lend to her by way of tops, and wouldn’t even be able to hold up any of our pants or skirts. So, she never gets to partake in the share pile.
“With a security deposit, sure,” Remi quips.
“Ok, so what’re the haps for dinner?” Lexie asks, “I’m hungry!” Lexie, always being in motion, is also always hungry. I envy her metabolism.
We decide on delivery, and then settle down in the separate lounge area of her tasting room, since the tasting room is closed we have the place to ourselves.
