hand. “I thought this guy was a terminal bachelor. Nice to see he’s calming down in his old age. So what can I help you with?”
“Well, Rachael has terrible taste in furniture—what little of it she has.”
I roll my eyes. What little furniture I have was all I could afford—and I worked really hard at figuring out the instructions and putting it all together with a tiny Allen wrench by myself, thank you very much. I may have spent a total of two-hundred dollars on my furniture in my apartment. These homemade beauties are definitely not in my price range.
I look up at Paul, frowning. “What are you doing?”
“I’m buying you furniture.”
I know he can afford it, but why? Because we had sex? It feels like a strange gift.
“She seems to like the drift wood pieces best,” Paul tells his friend.
“Good choice. I think I can help with that,” the man says.
Paul is relentless. I keep telling him no, it’s too much, but he’s not having any of it. He refuses to leave the store without buying me an entire bedroom set including headboard, bedside tables and lamps, and a dresser. He tries not to let me see the price tag, but I sneak a peek at the receipt while he’s helping to load it in the back of the delivery truck and it’s in the thousands.
I want to tell him he doesn’t have to buy my affection, or whatever else he’s getting from me, but we are having such a good time and I love being around him. I’m afraid that bringing up money will put a damper on things.
I thank him profusely and we head back toward home. I thought we were going back to my apartment but he’s not done spoiling me yet. We have a couple hours to kill before the delivery truck makes it to my apartment, and he’s dragging me around to clothing stores to fill up my new dresser. He’s so stubborn, and I’m kind of having a Pretty Woman moment in the store trying on all these clothes while he waits outside of the dressing room to give his opinion. Thankfully he manages not to make me feel like a call girl. Instead, I just feel special. It comes as no surprise that he likes the skimpy items best. Honestly, I do too.
While we’re out he insists on buying me proper school supplies rather than all the crumpled notebooks and chewed up pens and pencils he saw on my kitchen counter the first time he was over. It really is too much. I tell him so several times, but he pretends to be old and hard of hearing. Eventually, I just go with it because it’s easier than arguing with him.
“I think that’s everything unless you can think of anything else you need,” he says when we’re back on the road.
“Well … there is one more thing,” I say.
He pulls over and gets out of the truck. “You drive. I’ll go wherever you want.”
I get behind the wheel and have to pull the seat all the way forward and adjust his mirrors. Not having a vehicle has left me slightly uncomfortable behind the wheel, especially driving such a big truck. Once I get my bearings, learning where the turn signals and lights are, we’re on our way.
He’s looking curiously around, trying to figure out where we’re going. “Oh, yeah, I should’ve known we were heading to Chuck E. Cheese,” he says when the big smiling mouse billboard comes into view.
I laugh. “Maybe I’m dropping you off at the Sizzler for the early bird special. Do you get senior discounts yet, ‘cause you might be handy to have around.”
“If you’re not careful, I’ll bend you over my knee.”
I remember the brief spanking I’d received in the pool at my party and in bed and I feel a jolt of excitement between my legs. “Don’t make promises unless you plan to keep them.”
He chuckles and pats me on the leg, leaving his hand there. His thumb caresses my knee while I drive.
My destination is near my apartment, about two blocks away down a narrow alley away from the public eye. When he realizes where I’m going, he laughs and says, “Oh yeah, definitely better than
“Well, Rachael has terrible taste in furniture—what little of it she has.”
I roll my eyes. What little furniture I have was all I could afford—and I worked really hard at figuring out the instructions and putting it all together with a tiny Allen wrench by myself, thank you very much. I may have spent a total of two-hundred dollars on my furniture in my apartment. These homemade beauties are definitely not in my price range.
I look up at Paul, frowning. “What are you doing?”
“I’m buying you furniture.”
I know he can afford it, but why? Because we had sex? It feels like a strange gift.
“She seems to like the drift wood pieces best,” Paul tells his friend.
“Good choice. I think I can help with that,” the man says.
Paul is relentless. I keep telling him no, it’s too much, but he’s not having any of it. He refuses to leave the store without buying me an entire bedroom set including headboard, bedside tables and lamps, and a dresser. He tries not to let me see the price tag, but I sneak a peek at the receipt while he’s helping to load it in the back of the delivery truck and it’s in the thousands.
I want to tell him he doesn’t have to buy my affection, or whatever else he’s getting from me, but we are having such a good time and I love being around him. I’m afraid that bringing up money will put a damper on things.
I thank him profusely and we head back toward home. I thought we were going back to my apartment but he’s not done spoiling me yet. We have a couple hours to kill before the delivery truck makes it to my apartment, and he’s dragging me around to clothing stores to fill up my new dresser. He’s so stubborn, and I’m kind of having a Pretty Woman moment in the store trying on all these clothes while he waits outside of the dressing room to give his opinion. Thankfully he manages not to make me feel like a call girl. Instead, I just feel special. It comes as no surprise that he likes the skimpy items best. Honestly, I do too.
While we’re out he insists on buying me proper school supplies rather than all the crumpled notebooks and chewed up pens and pencils he saw on my kitchen counter the first time he was over. It really is too much. I tell him so several times, but he pretends to be old and hard of hearing. Eventually, I just go with it because it’s easier than arguing with him.
“I think that’s everything unless you can think of anything else you need,” he says when we’re back on the road.
“Well … there is one more thing,” I say.
He pulls over and gets out of the truck. “You drive. I’ll go wherever you want.”
I get behind the wheel and have to pull the seat all the way forward and adjust his mirrors. Not having a vehicle has left me slightly uncomfortable behind the wheel, especially driving such a big truck. Once I get my bearings, learning where the turn signals and lights are, we’re on our way.
He’s looking curiously around, trying to figure out where we’re going. “Oh, yeah, I should’ve known we were heading to Chuck E. Cheese,” he says when the big smiling mouse billboard comes into view.
I laugh. “Maybe I’m dropping you off at the Sizzler for the early bird special. Do you get senior discounts yet, ‘cause you might be handy to have around.”
“If you’re not careful, I’ll bend you over my knee.”
I remember the brief spanking I’d received in the pool at my party and in bed and I feel a jolt of excitement between my legs. “Don’t make promises unless you plan to keep them.”
He chuckles and pats me on the leg, leaving his hand there. His thumb caresses my knee while I drive.
My destination is near my apartment, about two blocks away down a narrow alley away from the public eye. When he realizes where I’m going, he laughs and says, “Oh yeah, definitely better than
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