Page 91 of Bronx

Bronx leans down and kisses me, slapping my bare butt for good measure.

“Let’s go.”

***

Bronx drives us to a super Target located about ten minutes from his house, and for me it feels like a kid in the candy store once he tells me what he wants me to do.

“Buy whatever you want,” he demands. “Only catch is that you have to be done in thirty minutes.”

“So, this is a timed shopping spree?” I ask excitedly, clapping my hands like a goofball.

“Do you think your sore little pussy can take it?”

“It definitely can.”

Thirty minutes is plenty of time for me to shop. I’m not going to pick up any housewares or food, because I don’t have a place to freakin’ live, but I’m going to go crazy in the clothing section, especially the underwear. This is my chance to buy a few decent bras and not worry about the cost for once.

“Are you timing me?” I ask.

“Hell yeah, I’m not trying to be in here all day. I’ll be sitting over in the Starbucks answering some emails and you’ll need to be in line in thirty. I’ll meet you at the cashier and give you the card.”

I kiss him on the cheek.

“Got it.”

I attack my mission with a plan. Five minutes in jeans, five in tops and dresses, ten in shoes and ten in underwear. The time flew by faster than I thought it would and I realize that I must spend way more time in box stores than I thought, even when I’m just looking.

I’m satisfied with the clothes in my basket when Bronx saunters over, catching the attention of every soccer mom in the store. You can’t help but stare at him. He fills every room he enters with his presence.

I have to admit, I can’t help but revel in the Pretty Woman moment of this trip. All eyes are on me as Bronx checks the cart and hands me his magical black card again.

“What’s this?” He lifts a bra out of the cart.

“Obviously a bra.”

“But you don’t wear them.”

“Because I don’t own any. Now I do.”

“Uh, no you don’t.”

“What?”

“I like you au naturale. Tits swinging in the air underneath whatever you put on.”

A woman in the next lane over can hear him and her eyes widen with surprise.

“Bronx!” I try whispering. “Be quiet.”

“I like what I like and this is my treat. I’m not going to buy anything that’s not going to get any use, though. If you try putting this tit sling on, I’ll just rip it off of you with my bare teeth.”

The gawks at me in wonderment. She must be asking herself whether my hoohah is made of solid gold. I’m starting to think it is.

“But I’ve been wanting some new ones for so long,” I say with a sad puppy face.

“Fine, a deal is a deal. I guess I didn’t give you any restrictions on what you could buy. All I’m saying is that if you wear ‘em around me, don’t get mad if they end up in the Red Cross giveaway pile.”

I laugh heartily.