Page 33 of Stroked Long
“Here.” She stands up and hands me a pink cloth.
“What’s this?”
In that cheery voice that is starting to become engrained in my brain, she answers, “It’s a smock, of course. You don’t want to get paint all over those nice monotone clothes, now do you? Heaven forbid you put a little color in your wardrobe.” The wink she adds lets me know she’s teasing.
“But it’s pink.”
“Yeah, well I don’t have fire truck smocks big enough for you so you’re going to have to settle for what I use. Go ahead, don’t be shy.” She nods at the smock, encouraging me to put it on.
“What makes you think I’m going to fit in your smock? I’m much larger than you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Bodi, we are all aware of the muscles you have under that shirt of yours, no need to rub it in.”
“I wasn’t—”
She holds up her hand, a smile gracing her face. “Save it for the jury, muscle man. I wear an extra-large smock in men’s.”
A crease in my brow forms. “You’re not an extra-large.”
“Awe, look at you being all sweet. Yes, I’m aware I’m not an extra-large, I just like to swim in my smocks. It’s comfortable, especially when I wear nothing underneath.” She bends over and fixes the drape on the floor, acting as if her last statement should have no reaction and was just casual conversation.
She wears nothing under this smock?Fucking hell, the thought of her naked in this smock has my dick hardening. Where the fuck did that come from? Well, I know where it came from, but fuck! I can’t get hard around Ruby.
“Well, are you going to put it on or risk getting paint all over those pristine grey jeans of yours?”
Pulling my mind away from dirty thoughts, I put the smock on and roll up the sleeves.
“Oh, you look so pretty.” She claps her hands.
“Not the look I was going for.”
“Oh yeah? What kind of look were you going for? I wasn’t aware you were Mr. Fashionable.”
“I know some fashion,” I say quietly, adjusting the sleeves.
“Enlighten me.” Her smile is so damn big, I can’t help but engage in this conversation and feel somewhat . . . normal.
Leaning against the exterior of her apartment, I say, “Eva was always into fashion when we were growing up and I remember her distinctively saying ‘black and brown make her frown’ and to never pair them together.”
She nods, understanding the rule I still apply today. “A good concept but so out of date. Black and brown actually can be a good combination when done in the right way.”
“What?”
“Yeah, you can pair black and brown together. I actually saw your sister in black skinny jeans the other day with brown suede pumps. She’s misled you, Bodi. Black and brown is in now, especially with all the leopard-print trends. Although, you can really wear leopard print with anything. I have these cute leopard print flats that I love pairing with bright dresses. Do you have any leopard print?”
“Can’t say that I do.” I chuckle, shaking my head.
From the corner of my eye, I can see her head tilt to the side and a long sigh eases out of her lungs. I catch a glimpse of what seems like . . . lust in her eyes.
Is that lust? I have no fucking clue. It seems like it.
Clearing her throat and straightening, she says, “Okay, let’s get a move on. Are you ready to paint?”
“I guess so.”
“Do you need to warm up or anything? I don’t want you pulling something and then you can’t go to the Olympics because of me. Oh God, that would be devastating. I can’t have that hanging over my head.”
“I’m fine.”
