THURSDAY
Sam awoke the next morning in his little apartment. He rolled out of bed and stretched; he was pleasantly surprised how well rested and relaxed he felt. On a whim, he threw on a pair of sneakers and went for a jog.
When he got home he headed straight to the shower. He washed off the sweat, saliva and any cum Miranda hadn't tongued off of him in the car last night; after dropping her off at the condo, he'd stumbled straight to his bed once he got home. He sighed contentedly as the hot water soaked his skin.
He was in no rush; Barnes had got someone to take over most of his work in Metro so he could devote his time to his story about Luc Mane for the investigative team. That meant his schedule could be much more irregular, and since he was ostensibly working late last night nobody would raise an eyebrow if he didn't come in until the afternoon.
It was a good thing too, because he sorely needed to go shopping. He was not going to go to work in the same outfit twice, and besides, that outfit was ill-fitting and rather uncomfortable. He had some room on his credit card, and his wardrobe could probably use some updating anyway. Viv would be pleased, no doubt; she was always on him about staying within at least two years of the current style.
He thought about his little red Irish fireball and smiled. He'd call her after he went shopping and apologize for ... something ... and work himself back into his good graces. He'd make it up to her with a lavish home-cooked meal and then lavish makeup sex.
He imagined her pert little breasts and her big pale pink nipples, remembered the taste of her tight little pussy and the sound of her ecstatic moans. He felt himself start to swell and lightly fondled his own balls, getting a jolt of pleasure that widened his smile even further. Today was going to be a good day, he knew it.
**
Sam pulled open the door to the clothing boutique he'd always really liked but rarely ever purchased from; it hadn't ever been in his budget. He stepped in and took a quick look around.
The first thing that drew his eye was a cute girl with purple hair and a beautiful full-length tattoo on her left arm of flowering vines with menacing thorns. She was dancing along to the loud rock music filling the store, folding pants over at the counter, her tall athletic body swaying. Sam knew it was her job to dress well and look cool, but she was doing a hell of a job doing it; she wore a sleeveless top and a chic skirt that swished as she danced, both black. He strode right up to her and looked down at her nametag.
"Hi, Lauren?" he said. When she looked up at him, still bopping along to the music, he gave her a big smile. "I love your style. Can you help me work on mine?"
Lauren looked him up and down and smiled; Sam felt a little shiver when she met his eyes again.
"We'll see, won't we," she said, stepping and dipping with the music. She snatched up the pile of pants in rhythm, spun, and looked back over her shoulder at him with a grin and a fluttering of heavily done-up eye lashes. "Follow me."
Sam returned her grin and set out after her. She strutted along to a shelf where she deposited the pants, spun again and struck a pose just as the song ended. Sam's grin deepened and he clapped politely for her.
"Thank you, thank you," Lauren said, with a bow. "Now, what's your name, sailor?"
"Sam," he said, holding his out to shake hers.
She took his hand with mock coquettishness and gazed at him from under her long dark lashes like an early cinema femme fatale. She let go and put her hands on her hips, Wonder Woman style.
"Okay Sam, stand up straight and let me get a look at you," she said.
Sam followed her orders, and she took a slow circuit around him. Standing behind him, she brushed off the shoulders of his dress shirt and ran her hands down to his biceps, giving them a light squeeze. She put her hands under his arms and patted them, and he held his arms up. She ran her hands down his sides, feeling his strong frame, and then tugged down on the sides of his ill-fitting shirt, letting slip an dramatically unimpressed groan.
She walked back around in front of him, and then stepped in close. Sam could smell her skin; she smelled like a rose. She reached down and snaked a finger through each belt loop and tugged side-to-side. Sam stood his ground but his pants swiveled, the hem of his pants leg travelling half way up his calf.
"I see," she said, flatly.
She took a step back and struck a classic thinking pose, hips thrust to one side. She tapped a finger on her lips, which were pursed in intense concentration, round and plump. She looked him up and down again.
"Yes, just as I suspected," she said. She straightened and looked him in the eye.
"You're very fortunate, Sam," she said sternly. "If you had waited one day longer, you might have been beyond saving. But today is your lucky day, because I think we caught it just in time. There is hope for you yet."
She winked a him, and he laughed. He let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.
"Oh thank god," Sam said. "I'll do anything you say, Nurse Lauren, just get me well."
"You'll be back on your feet in no time," she said, reaching up to tap him on the nose. "I've got just the cure: clothes made this decade."
With that she set off across the store, hips again swaying so her skirt fluttered. Sam watched her go and his pulse quickened.
'She'd be a lot of fun,' he thought.
"Well are you coming?" she said without turning around.
"Not yet, Nurse Lauren, I'm saving it for the sponge bath," he said without thinking. He tightened a bit internally when he heard himself, but didn't let it touch the smile on his face. Uh oh, that was waaaay too forward, he thought.
Lauren turned, flipped her purple hair and looked back at him, hands on hips.
