is the bathroom – use it to scrub down or anything else you feel you need to do after having been touched this intimately by a stranger. And on the other side of it, is a closet for you to find something new to wear.”
“Is anything in there actually gonna fit? Tyra Banks and I may be the same height, but we are far from the same size.”
“Clothes range from zero to thirty, so something should work. Women’s clothes are on the left. Men’s clothes on the right.”
“And why can’t I just wear what I was wearing?”
“Assuming your undergarments are fine-”
“Which they should be. No one has been that close to my panties in almost a year.”
Another possessive grumble is unconsciously spewed.
Dios mío.
I’ve gotta get my shit together.
“Assuming those are fine, you can put them back on. Everything else gets swapped for safety reasons. You were spotted in very particular attire, which means that’s most likely what whoever is looking for you will continue to be looking for you in.”
Blake hums her understanding, yet I don’t hear her feet moving.
“You can head that way now.”
Cheyenne’s encouragement is met by a firm tone. “As soon as you’re done scanning my bra. I already told you, that drive does not leave my sight, and while I am unaware of what your exact memory span is, observation leads me to believe it is at least that of the average individual, meaning you should recall my previously declared relationship with that piece of technology.”
After a minute or two, our host informs her that she’s good to go, prompting Blake to grab her undergarment and disappear into the other room.
I prepare to head that direction too when my target’s voice chomps, “Don’t follow me in here! I’m still naked!”
My gaze has barely latched onto the side of Cheyenne’s smirking face when she quietly commands, “Relax, Bradford. It’s secure according to the company’s standards. Now, get over here and strip.”
A small grunt of acknowledgment is all she’s given prior to me joining her side to begin the scrubbing process for myself.
Being naked in front of Cheyenne doesn’t even warrant a second thought. It registers the same way it does with any other employee. Between the different branches of private protection, I’ve worked out being in your birthday suit in front of others is just another day on the job. No one is concerned with your dick size when there are hundreds of thousands of dollars on the line or a small army creeping outside your window. Hell, even in situations like this, the laundry agent has a ticking clock of their own on getting you in and out. They don’t have time to care if you’re balls are extra droopy or if your cock is shaven down to the bare wood. Which mine is. But that’s a personal preference I only have to explain to women right before they experience the benefits of my decision. While being completely nude for a fellow enterprise member is nothing to stress over, having my dick just out and about for the mouth-watering woman in the next room to randomly take a gander at absolutely is.
What if she starts breaking it down the same way she does everything else?
Am I gonna have to just stand here and listen to her tell me it’s obvious I haven’t been laid in months due to some weird angle my left nut is taking?
Is she gonna tell me the length of my dick compared to that of the average male or something worse like how it relates to the last one she saw?
“How long has she been yours?” Cheyenne casually questions during the scanning of Blake’s black pencil skirt.
“She’s been mine since…”
Forever.
No.
That’s uh…that’s not the correct end of that statement.
My mouth moves to finish answering the question when a single word from it blares around my brain at fucking fog-horn levels.
Mine.
Ella es Mia.
I shake away the instinctual response and attempt to complete my reply. “Since um…this morning.”
Cheyenne glances up from where her tool has just finished searching Blake’s shirt. “This morning?”
A nod is given in tandem with me tossing the last of my clothes on the mattress.
“You’ve only been protecting her since this morning, and you’re already this,” she waves the device around at my chest, “invested?”
“It’s my job to be invested.”
“It’s your job to keep her safe, not lose your shit when you’re away from her for thirty seconds or get a fucking hard-on thinking about her naked.”
Her statement has me cutting a