it."
She didn't mention where we'd go, a fact Claudia seized on. She was convinced Trista would take us to some crazy-exotic sex shop filled with weird paraphernalia. Every time we spoke, Claude tortured me with more bizarre details of the imagined den of iniquity, and there was no way I was going to be able to handle the outing without turning bright red and hyperventilating over the idea that someone might see me. I didn't even want to think about what I'd do if I had to use my credit card.
"What," Claudia said, "you don't think Karl would be cool with a charge from Priscilla's Passion Pit?"
"Stop."
"How about Lolita's Love Loft?"
"That's it. I'm not going."
"Sexistentialism?"
"No. There's no ... Okay, if it was actually called Sexisten-tialism I might have to go inside."
As it turned out, I didn't have to worry. Trista took us back to Victoria's Secret, a place I could enter without a qualm and which would look totally acceptable on a credit card statement. I did feel weird going to the "sexy" section of the store, flipping through filmy, lacy things that required far more confidence and cup size than I actually had.
I couldn't even begin to choose anything to try on, but luckily I didn't have to—what Trista pulled for me was perfect. It was more like a slip than anything hard-core, with thin shoulder straps, a lacy top, and a mesh skirt that came down to the tops of my thighs. It was red, so the mesh was a little see-through, but not so much that it would be embarrassing. It was tasteful and cute—I actually thought I looked pretty in it. Trista and Kristie picked out beautiful and tasteful things as well. Ree-Ree's ... I saw it on the hanger and wondered if they were selling it to wear or to use for cat's cradle. For Ree-Ree it was perfect.
On Valentine's night, we made the guys wait outside until we were ready to reveal our presents. We actually made them wait an extra ten minutes after that. I thought that was a little mean given the freezing weather, but Trista said it built "delicious anticipation."
Finally, Trista had me unlock the door, but I didn't open it. I ducked into the bathroom with the other girls, and then Trista yelled for the guys to come in. Only when they'd shut the door and taken seats did Trista hit the remote to turn on music so we could strut our lingerie-clad selves into the room.
The guys loved it. They hooted and catcalled like wild, Eddie as loud as any of them. The whole night, it seemed as if Eddie couldn't take his eyes or hands off me. He stared at me, whatever I did. When I sat in his lap while we all played drinking games, he kept running his hands up and down my little slip.
The attention made me feel beautiful and sexy ... but also a little scared. Eddie and I had been pretty tame in our makeout sessions so far. I knew even Kristie was doing a lot more. I wondered if he'd take the lingerie fashion show as an invitation to go a little further. Not that a little further was a problem, but a lot further might be. Eddie and I hadn't talked about whether or not he was a virgin. Things might be on the table for him that weren't at all for me.
When we eventually made it out to our chaise and started kissing, it kept nagging at me. Part of me wanted to say something, but stopping a perfectly wonderful makeout session to define things that might not even need defining seemed like the worst turnoff in the world. I did not want to turn Eddie off. But wouldn't stopping things when we were actually getting close to doing something I didn't want to do be even more of a turnoff?
"Eddie," I finally said between kisses.
"What's up?"
"I just want to make sure ... I mean, I don't know how ... how far you wanted to go, but..."
Ugh. I looked away. Was it possible to be any lamer? I didn't think so. I was sure I'd turned as red as my slip.
Yet as my mind raced through ways to convince Eddie not to break up with me, he put his fingers under my chin and tilted my face to his. "Hey ... it's okay. I like you. For real. That's why I want to go nice and slow, okay?"
Relief flooded through