Cover Me. Stephanie Bond
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record time, then squirted perfume on my wrists. The hives were itching like crazy, but I knew scratching would only make them worse.
I pulled my haphazard hair back into a twist and secured it with the only clasp I could find in my purse—a banker’s clip. It would have to do until I could grab something from the prop room at work. Then I sorted through the clothes with dread in my stomach. If I showed up wearing the same clothes I’d worn yesterday, I might as well wear a sign that read I Got Laid Last Night. I opted not to wear the same pair of panties, reckoning that my pantyhose would be enough of a barrier between me and my slacks for decency’s sake. But my blouse was stained with makeup from yanking it over my head last night, and I hadn’t worn a jacket.
I eyed the closet next to the shower and peeked inside to find a beautiful tan-colored suit, white dress shirt, and geometric tie hanging under plastic. I was surprised because Sam didn’t seem like the suit type—he’d told me he was a doctor visiting from out of town, but hadn’t Jacki said to assume he was lying? I had certainly lied, as instructed, including telling him my last name was Moore.
With murmured apologies, I slid the dress shirt from the plastic, shrugged into it, rolled up the sleeves, secured it wrap-style, and tucked it inside my navy slacks. I used the geometric tie as a belt, then glanced into the mirror. Not bad for a ten-minute session—as long as no one looked too closely.
I stuffed my makeup bag, blouse and panties into my bag and prepared to dash out the door when I remembered the “cast.” Since I’d never see Sam again, I was definitely taking that souvenir with me. But when I hefted the cardboard cylinder that held the hardened cast, I realized it was too heavy to lug around and would take up too much room in my bag. So I slipped my fingers under the mound of silicone at the base of the cast, and after a couple of tugs, pulled out the dildo with a pop.
I gasped. Granted, the kit had said the dildo would be lifelike, but…damn. It was indeed an exact replica of Sam’s finest physical asset. A splendid springy, firm, flesh-colored replica that brought tingly memories flooding back to various parts of my body. I had lucked out when I’d chosen Sam as the “caster.” This baby was going on display in my china cabinet.
After a couple of appreciative strokes, I shoved the homemade dildo into my bag, flipped off the light, and opened the door as quietly as I could. In the semidarkness, Sam was still snuggled up to the pillow. I conceded a stab of desire just looking at his long lean body in the twisted sheets. The chemistry between us had been magical, but I knew that the intensity of our lovemaking had more to do with the fact that we’d never see each other again than with any kind of kismet. Besides, the unbearable itching on my chest was proof enough that my body would be in a constant state of chaos if I spent any time at all with the man.
Still…the romantic in me wanted to believe that our one-night stand was better than any one-night stand in history. I had the overwhelming urge to push the hair off his forehead and kiss him goodbye, but gave myself a mental shake. I did, however, recall what Jacki said about leaving a memento. I needed my earrings to look halfway put together, my bra didn’t have an embroidered flower, and I didn’t own a garter belt.
But in my bag I had a pair of pink imported French panties that had held Sam’s attention for quite a while before he’d removed them with his teeth. The expensive un-dies seemed like a fair trade for the dress shirt.
I dropped the panties on the side of the bed I’d slept on, glanced around to make sure I had my belongings, and walked to the door as soundlessly as I could. I looked back at Sam’s sleeping form and experienced a twinge of regret that I hadn’t shared enough information about myself or found out enough about him for us ever to connect again. And even though it was probably against the rules, I blew him a wistful kiss.
I wasn’t very good at this one-night-stand business.
And I was late for work. I took the elevator to the lobby and dashed through it with my head down, sure that everyone knew what I’d done. I walked faster and faster, which only brought into play more and more muscles that I’d overworked last night and aggravated my booming headache. And apparently Sam liked heavy starch—the collar of his shirt chafed my neck, and the fabric was wreaking havoc on my hives. Some part of me, though, felt as if I deserved to be miserable after what I’d done. Mind you, I’m not a virginal prude, but deep down I still wanted to believe that sex was a special, intimate experience with emotional fallout. To realize that I had so enjoyed the purely physical encounter left me questioning what I knew to be true about myself.
I hailed a cab and slid into the lobby of the Woolworth Building a mere fifteen minutes late, but I felt as though the day had started without me. My nerves clanged and I wondered what Helena had manufactured for me to do today to make up for the fact that I’d left early yesterday. Fridays were notoriously busy so that those who would be working over the weekend could get the assignments that they had to complete for Monday morning. I wasn’t surprised when I walked into my closet-office to the tune of my phone ringing.
I set my bag on my desk and yanked up the receiver. “Kenzie Mansfield.”
“Well?” Jacki asked.
One side of my mouth slid back. “Well, what?”
“Well, how was the Eagle Scout?”
“I knew I shouldn’t have left you that message.”
“It was the safe thing to do. Did you spend the night?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“And how was it?”
“Great,” I admitted.
“You don’t sound too excited. Did he refuse to be cast?”
I glanced toward my bag where the lifelike dildo resided. “Uh, no, he was…up for the job.”
“And?”
“And it worked perfectly.”
“I’m going to order a kit for me and Ted as soon as I hang up.” She paused. “Why are you so glum—was he…petite?”
I laughed and dropped into my chair. “No, he was not petite. I’m just feeling out of sorts. My head is hammering, I woke up too late to go back to my apartment, I had to wear his shirt to the office—”
“You weren’t supposed to talk to him this morning!”
“I didn’t.”
“You stole the guy’s shirt?”
I mourned my pink Lejaby panties. “More like traded for it. Anyway…I don’t know, Jacki, it was really weird to sleep with this guy and just get up and leave, knowing I’ll never see him again.”
“Maybe you will run into him again.”
“He said he’s from out of town.”
“He probably lied. For all you know, he could work in the mailroom of your building.”
“Running into him would be even worse. How awkward would that be?”
“Pretty awkward if he has you arrested for stealing his shirt. Wait a minute—do you have feelings for this guy?”
I blinked. “No—unless itchy feelings count. I have hives.”
“That sounds attractive.”
“Let’s just say I don’t think I’ll be having any more one-night stands.” I fiddled with one of the buttons on Sam’s shirt. “I guess I want what you have with Ted.”
“And you’ll find it,” Jacki said. “Last night was just an exercise to jumpstart your social life.”
“I hope you’re right,” I mumbled.
“And look on the bright side—you have the guy’s silicone portrait to remember him by.”
I was minutely cheered. “I have to admit it’s one beautiful dildo.”
A shadow darkened my door and I looked up to see Helena standing there,