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“Keep it up,” she said, “and you’re about to be demoted to calling a Lyft. Come on, let’s go.”

Becca walked around to the driver’s side. Before she opened the driver’s door, she opened the back door and removed her uniform blazer and peaked cap, tossing them on the backseat.

“So what now?” Krissy asked once Becca was behind the steering wheel. “Are you going to drop me off and then go home and shut out the world?”

“Actually,” Becca began, “do you have plans?”

Like, another one of your “dates?”

“Nope.”

“I kind of feel like the beach,” Becca told her.

Lying out in the sun, listening to the surf, occasionally doing a back float in the Pacific…All of that sounded heavenly right now.

“I’m in,” Krissy said, nodding.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s do it.”

Becca started the engine.

Chapter 10

Krissy needed to come.

Her heartrate was elevated, her nerves were feeling jangly, her nipples were rocks and her center was still wet from all the lascivious thoughts she’d been having ever since Becca returned to her house earlier wearing that fucking uniform.

In all the time they’d been close friends, Krissy had never seen Becca in her dress uniform, and when she finally had today, Krissy’s imagination had gone into overdrive.

In the uniform, Becca looked like a military commander: a navy blue blazer with some gold bands on the cuffs and medals pinned to the lapel, a white blouse and a tie! A fucking tie! That feature alone had made Krissy lick her lips because women in ties were…yummy.

Becca had told her that the women’s uniform had two options: a skirt or slacks. Becca had chosen the skirt, which meant she also had to wear pantyhose, as per regulations. Her shoes were nothing spectacular—again, regulations prescribed sensible black pumps. But on Becca, this whole ensemble just made Krissy wish there really was a secret planet of Amazonian women who had chosen now to invade, with Becca as their Eisenhower…ready to conquer Earth and take captives.

And Krissy wanted to be Becca’s personal captive. Hand-picked by the general to service her.

During the press conference, part of Krissy’s mind was paying attention to Becca’s answers to the questions, sure. She especially liked Becca’s wisecracks about the Kardashians. However, another part of her mind was imagining General Becca in her bedroom tonight, towering over her as she knelt on the floor, awaiting her commands. Becca would be nude except for that really cool cap with the shiny black visor, and, of course, the tie, which would hang down between those lovely breasts which Krissy already knew so well from seeing Becca topless countless times.

That image alone—of the tie between those boobs—had made Krissy cross her legs as she sat in the back of the press conference room, questioning her choice of underwear today.

Thongs and hyperarousal do not go together.

But she hadn’t been able to stop herself. Her imagination had been a runaway train. Watching Becca up at the front of the room, so poised, confident and even smart-alecky, all Krissy wanted was for Becca to take her home and make her do whatever…Becca…wanted.

It wouldn’t matter what, either. Krissy would be the perfect submissive to the general. She’d call her “ma’am,” obey her commands and accept punishment when she wasn’t quick enough doing so. She’d let Becca deny her for as long as Becca wanted. She’d happily beg for it.

Please, for fuck’s sake, ma’am, let me come!

The result was that during most of that press conference, Krissy had been watching the goings-on with a center that was well and truly wet, and a clit that was pulsing like a miniature heartbeat.

Then, the script got flipped.

After the press conference, when Becca finally emerged from City Hall and was walking toward her in the parking lot, all Krissy could think about was taking that gorgeous woman—dressed so imperiously, looking as if the world belonged to her—and showing her who is really the boss.

That uniform would be destroyed. Krissy knew she wouldn’t be gentle with it. She’d attack it, ripping and tearing it to get to what she wanted. But she wouldn’t remove it completely. She’d want some tattered remnants of it to remain on Becca, as a display of her own dominance and savagery.

Krissy blinked. Did she just hear her name?