saw a flash of something in her blue eyes before she turned and walked out the door. He’s mine. She wanted me to know that Colt was off-limits. Were Colt and Jessa together? Was that why she had been so rude to me earlier?
“Here you go, Princess,” Colt held the bag out to me. “Try it on.”
I took it. “Where should I change?”
“Here.”
“In front of you?”
He shrugged, like it was no big deal.
I hesitated, and he rolled his eyes. “You can change over there, behind the screen.” He pointed to the corner of the room, where there was a room divider set up. It was cream-colored, with a red and blue abstract design printed on it.
I took a deep breath and slid behind it, then pulled the plastic bag off the uniform and studied it. It was a short pleated black skirt with a black push-up bustier with spaghetti straps. There was a tiny black thong to wear underneath it. It was revealing, but not anything worse than you’d see out in a club.
I slid out of the clothes Colt had given me and into the uniform. Even without a mirror, I could tell it was way too small. The waist was fine, but the skirt was so short that bottom of my ass was hanging out. My breasts were pushed together and practically falling out of the top. There was a cut out in the top of the bustier, and it tied in the middle, holding your breasts together.
“Colt?” I called. “My uniform is too small.”
“Let me see.”
“No.”
“Let. Me. See.”
“No.”
But he appeared a second later, sticking his head around the side of the partition, taking me in. I tried to cross my arms over my chest, but that only served to push my breasts together more.
“Jesus,” he said when he saw me.
“I told you it was too small.”
“No,” he said. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s not. My chest can’t fit in the top and the skirt is way too short.”
Colt reached out and slowly, deliberately, grabbed my arms and pulled my hands down from where I was covering my breasts so that he could see me. My breath hitched as he stood there, so tall he was almost towering over me, staring down at my tits.
I saw the desire searing in his eyes.
“You’re not wearing it right,” he said. “You need to tie it tight in the middle.” He reached up to undo the strips of material, but I grabbed his hands and stopped him.
“Don’t,” I said. “I can do it.”
But he just gave me that cocky grin again, then moved my hands from where they were grasping his and pulled them back down to my sides. “Don’t argue with your boss, Princess,” he said.
He let go of my hands and his fingers slid up my bare arms, leaving goose bumps all over me and sending a shiver up my spine. He caressed me all the way up to my shoulders, then slid his hands down over my chest and untied my uniform. For a terrifying, amazing, exhilarating moment I thought he was going to take the top off completely, untie the whole thing, giving him a full view of my breasts. But he didn’t.
Instead, he just untied the strips of fabric, then pulled them tight before tying them back together.
“Turn around,” he demanded.
I turned around, and felt his hands on my hips, adjusting my skirt, pulling it down just a tiny bit on my hip bones. With it pulled down like that, the skirt covered my ass cheeks a bit more, but I still felt exposed, especially in the tiny thong. And with the way he’d tied my shirt, it hitched up a bit, leaving a strip of my stomach bare.
“I can’t wear this,” I said. “I can’t… I mean, I wouldn’t…” I wanted to tell him there was no way I could ever be seen in public in something like this. I was stupid to ever think I could be a stripper, stupid to think I could ever be sexy. I thought it would be easy, that I could just disconnect from my body and not have to worry about the men staring at me. What I didn’t stop to think about was how I would feel about myself, how I would feel about showing my body, about being arrogant enough to think that anyone would want to see it.
“Come here,” Colt said, taking me by the shoulders. He marched me over to the door and shut it. There was