Page 77 of S is for SEX

I chuckled. “You know where it is.”

While she walked away, I admired the dress I purchased. Jess always looked good, but she was going to look great wearing everything I had picked out for her. As she walked back into the room I acted disinterested in the clothes and sat down.

She plopped down on the couch and chuckled. “Okay. Where we left off. I want a big one. How ironic is that?”

“Stop it,” I said.

She let out a sigh. “Okay,” she said innocently.

“So, when it comes to diamonds, there are a few things that are important. The four C’s. Color, cut, clarity, and carat weight. Color is just that, the color of the diamond. They range from black to colorless. Cut is the manner in which the stone is cut. The depth, width, how the facets align with everything. How it reflects light. Clarity is how clear the diamond is of flaws. It could be a great color, and have specs of carbon in it, making its clarity a poor grade. And carat weight is the size. Following me so far?”

“Color, cut, clarity, carat weight,” she said.

“Impressive.”

“I’m a good listener.”

“If you go in this place and ask for exactly what I’m looking for, it’s going to look pretty obvious. What I had was a flawless ten carat round colorless stone. You’re going to say yours was a six-carat cushion cut, which is a square cut with the corners cut off. And you know your husband told you it was flawless and he got it in Houston, not here. If you say he bought it here, he’ll ask too many questions.”

“I can do this.”

“I know you can. We’ll go over it some more, just so you’re comfortable. Hopefully, if you press him hard enough, he’ll offer the other stone up for sale. Just remember, price is no object.”

“Okay.”

“Now, the clothes. I bought a dress, shoes, and I have some jewelry for you to wear. And when you go, you’ll take the Maserati.”

“What’s a Maserati?”

I laughed. “It’s a car. An expensive car.”

“Did you get the bra? The Bombshell?”

“Actually, I got a few of them. I wasn’t sure about which color to get.”

“Sweet.”

I stood up and motioned toward the clothes. “So, you’re going to need to take this stuff and try it on.”

“I’ll just try them on here,” she said.

She stood and quickly pulled her tee shirt over her head. After tossing her shoes to the side, she pushed her shorts down her tanned legs and kicked them to the side. Now standing in front of me in her bra and panties, she looked remarkably young and innocent.

Yet she was neither.

She reached back, unclasped her bra, and allowed it to fall down along her arms. As it dropped to the floor, I felt myself growing stiff.

“We haven’t got time for this,” I said. “You need to be there no later than 6:00. It’s 5:30 now.”

She pressed her thumbs under the sides of her panties. “No time for what?”

I pushed the heel of my palm against my cock, attempting to situate it in my slacks. “For you fucking with me.”

She pushed her panties down along her thighs, making eye contact with me the entire time.

Her little charade worked. I was pitching a tent in my slacks. “We haven’t got time, Jess,” I said sternly.

She lifted her panties with her toe, extended her leg to the side, and flicked them on top of the pile of clothes. “Okay.”

---