“It’s all I want now already,” she said.

He turned her around and devoured her lips, as he unhooked her bra, slid off the peach panties, and then told her he’d meet her at the front of the store.

He left the dressing room, but before the door closed, he pushed it open wider. “Oh, and Michelle?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t touch yourself right now. I know you want to, but just don’t.”

She nodded. “I won’t.”

“Don’t when you go home to change either,” he told her, his voice firm. “Promise me you won’t.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t when you put on the gift I left for you with your doorman.”

Her eyes widened. “You left a gift for me?”

“Yes. Wear it tonight.”

15

Misbehave

The car waited at the curb outside her building.

In a crisp black suit and a matching cap, the driver held open the door. She slid into the backseat alone. The car was cool, the air-conditioning whirring softly. She needed the chill because of the warm September evening, and because she was sure she’d be burning up soon enough. Good thing she was meeting Jack at Lincoln Center. If he were in the car with her right now, she’d surely be pushing the partition button, rolling it up, and causing all sorts of trouble.

As delicious as that sounded, she wanted to arrive calm and still put together, rather than already in a fevered frenzy. Especially given what she was wearing. Under her cranberry-red dress, a silky number that hugged her curves, she wore the peach lingerie and Jack’s gift.

When she’d opened the pretty black shopping bag at her apartment she wasn’t surprised to find a white box with the silver J embossed on it. Still, the possibilities of what it might be thrilled her. She’d held the bag close in the elevator, holding onto her naughty secret, then tighter still as she walked down her hall until she reached 7E, where she lived. Once inside, she’d opened it with eager fingers, so damn curious and admittedly, already turned on, to see what he’d given her.

After showering, blow-drying her hair, and applying make-up, she’d put on the gift underneath her panties.

She’d never felt so sexy in her life, knowing he wanted her to wear it on their date.

Now, anticipation threaded through her, like a plume of smoke from a genie’s lamp. A promise of wishes coming true. Of pleasure enveloping her. The driver pulled up at Lincoln Center and her gaze landed on the gorgeous fountain in the middle of the plaza, water shooting up in arcs, lit up like fireworks as the sprays cascaded. She’d been here many times for shows and events, but the fountain always awed her with its beauty.

The driver opened her door, and she grabbed her clutch purse, then she thanked him before he drove off. She gathered a bit of fabric from the dress in her hand so she could walk up the steps more easily, even as the toy rubbed against her from inside her panties. Her Louboutins clicked against the stones as she joined the sea of art lovers—men in tuxes and suits, women in formal dresses and gowns, milling about on a warm evening, waiting to see the ballet, to watch a play, to listen to the New York Philharmonic play a Brahms symphony.