Page 87 of My So-Called Perfect Life

I smirk before opening the car door and getting out. “I know.”

As we head up to Ryan’s place, I can feel the heat of his eyes as they stare at my ass. I can hear his brain working overtime, trying to figure out what awaits him.

Nerves flutter in my stomach as we head inside Ryan’s apartment.

“You wait here,” I tell him and make my way to the bathroom.

I give it only ten minutes before he starts to get antsy and comes knocking, looking for answers.

Dropping my bag on the counter, I open and start pulling out my outfit, laying it on the counter. Finding the most important part, I grab my pouch with my razor and shaving cream, needing to get that taken care of first. I take off my panties and spread the shaving cream where I need it before grabbing my razor.

When I go to remove the plastic cover, I see my mistake.

No! No, no, no!

It’s the wrong razor. Somehow, I accidentally grabbed the older razor instead of the new one. I had them both on the counter, and I grabbed the gunked-up one instead of the brand-new one I pulled out from my cabinet.

There is no way I can use this nasty old razor. It’s filled with hair and soap, and it has a bit of rust in the corner, thanks to my shower.

Flinging open the doors to Ryan’s vanity, I find extra toilet paper, cleaning supplies, and some soap. Shit, this is the guest bathroom. He wouldn’t keep his razors in here. Does he even use razors, or does he use one of those electric shavers? I have no idea.

I’m standing in Ryan’s bathroom, coochie covered in shaving cream, with no clue how to fix this. I glance down at my watch. I’ve already been in here for close to five minutes.

Left with no other options, I grab one of the hand towels and wipe the shaving cream off, resigned to have to go through with this with my incomplete wax job.

It’s fine, Danielle. I doubt he’ll even care.

Sucking up the mishap in my plans, I pull on my big-girl panties—literally—and get a move on. The gray wool skirt hugs my hips, accentuating my curves. I slip my arms into the white button-up shirt that is purposely a size too small. After buttoning it up, just to the bust, I tuck it into the skirt and check myself in the mirror.

My red bra is visible through the shirt, and the exposed lace gives it a nice touch.

Flipping my head over, I gather my hair on top of my head and set on getting my bun done.

I slip my feet back into my heels, fix up my lipstick, and add the final librarian piece: my glasses.

Giving myself one more check in the mirror, I take a deep breath to try to calm the tsunami of anxiety and nerves wreaking havoc on my insides.

Here goes nothing!

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ryan

Danielle has been in the bathroom for close to ten minutes, and it’s been the longest ten minutes ever. The only thing I know about what she has planned is that it involves her and me and some bodily contact. Not that it particularly matters to me how that contact is achieved, but clearly, Danielle has something up her sleeve.

Standing from the couch, I pace around the living room, waiting. I’m typically a patient man, but my imagination is running wild at the moment.

The creak of the bathroom door opening fills the room with the intensity of a bomb exploding. A hundred percent of my attention is focused on the hallway as I wait for Danielle to emerge.

My cock goes full mast the second she steps one of her long legs into the empty hallway.

She looks like the most fuckable librarian I’ve ever seen.

I don’t know where to look first. Every single part of her is a fantasy come to life. Her skirt draws my eyes up her legs to the curve of her hips. Her white shirt leaves nothing to the imagination, as her red bra shows through, and the top few buttons have no doubt been purposely left open. Her breasts are pushed up in an invitation to feast on them.

Her glasses sit perched on the end of her nose, and her eyes dance with naughtiness as she bites her bright red bottom lip.

“You’re so damn sexy,” I growl as I approach her.